#then they have to stop him from bashing a guy’s skull in with a rock | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viscerax · 1 year

Text

Don't wanna love you anymore, but I can't help it

Memories were blurry. Tim doesn't remember a time in his life where his brain wasn't totally fucked, but it seemed to be getting worse ever since he showed up. He shoved his little camera in his face, spinning some intricate lie about trying to continue Marble Hornets, that stupid fucking film project he got dragged into by Brian. Tim knew something about it was suspicious, the way he never stopped recording. The whole situation gave Tim a bad pit in his stomach. But he gave the man a chance.

Oh, how stupid he was. How stupid it was of Tim to think that anyone around him could possibly have good intentions. How stupid of him to think that things could possibly get better.

The fucker put his medical records on the internet. For the whole world to see. When Tim saw that video, hearing his name read out and snippets of his confidential information being sprawled out for the world to see, he wanted to vomit. How did he even get ahold of those?

Tim wasn't one to pull punches. And he sure as hell didn't when he finally confronted the lying bastard who fucked him over. The feeling of his fist connecting with the man's face, sending him into the concrete of the parking lot, left a satisfied buzzing in Tim's mind. Therapists were bullshit. Sometimes, violence did help.

But that satisfaction didn't last long. Because now he was here, stuck in the car with the same fucker who betrayed him. Sometimes he wished his spells of memory loss and consciousness would kick in while he sat in the passenger seat, across from Jay, listening to whatever "rock hard music" the shitty radio station decided to play, which mostly consisted with of Queen.

Tim was sure he wouldn't mind coming into consciousness, leaving Jay on the side of the road and driving off. He was angry, and when he got angry, violence tended to creep up into his mind, even if he didn't want it to be there. It almost felt like someone cracked open his skull, the soft buzzing giving him a headache, and implanted the idea of bashing Jay's head into the steering wheel into his mind.

As angry as he was, part of him understood the man's voyeuristic tendencies, his heedless courses of actions. The man was acting out of fear, instinct, a true survivalist. He'd seen the videos of him chasing after the poor guy. He was surprised Jay lasted so long. Tim being clad in that typical porcelain mask that sent shivers down his own spine when he saw it, a reminder of his inevitable succumbing to the other side of him.

To keep himself from blowing up on Jay, taking his camera and breaking it over the poor boys head, he instead opted for giving him the cold shoulder, turning the scratchy radio up loud and chainsmoking, letting out a rattling cough every now and then.

"Smoking kills, you know?" Jay let out a half-hearted chuckle, it was obvious he was trying to ease the tension. Tim's eyes shifted, shooting the man a glare. As he did, he caught sight of the way the golden sun crowned Jay's head in a halo of soft light.

Tim internally kicked himself. This man was nothing like an angel.

"So does being nosey." He snarkily commented, taking another drag, turning to Jay and blowing a cloud of smoke in his direction. Jay let out a few coughs, waving the smoke away.

"Would be nice if you didn't blow that in my face... at least not while I'm driving." Jay let out an annoyed huff, eyes shifting to glare at Tim, although there was a bit of lighthearted-ness to his gaze, much less stern and upsetting than Tim's.

"Yeah... whatever..." Tim grumbled, obviously done with the conversation.

Jay let out a sigh, catching Tim's attention for just a moment. "This is fucked. Ya'know."

Tim just stared, he wasn't sure if he should respond, if Jay wanted gim to respond. So instead, he quirked and eyebrow, urging Jay to continue.

"This whole... ordeal. Everything. You, me, Alex. It all fucking sucks." Tim could tell Jay needed some kind of outlet, so he didn't stop the boy as he continued rambling. "You don't deserve this, Tim. You.... you're a good man. God, a kid shouldn't have had to deal with... with that fucker." Tim recalled briefly telling Jay og how Tim saw "that fucker" long before Marble Hornets was a thing. How he could feel the buzzing in his skill for as long as he could remember, ever present and only getting worse as the years went on. For a long time, Tim was convinced it was all just another hallucination, the schizophrenia nipping him in the bud. But everything seemed to align so horribly perfect. Seeing the stark image of him on those tapes only further confirmed his suspicions.

Tim stared kind of dumbfoundedly at Jay. He wasn't sure what to say. The topic of his childhood, of "that fucker" always made him uneasy, but another part of him felt like the exposure therapy made it easier to cope with, to know that in some twisted sense, he and Jay were in the same boat, both of them clinging to eavhother to keep the other from going overboard.

"You just... I just.... God I hate this, Tim. I should have never gotten involved with this shit. I shouldn't have dragged you back into this, I-I'n so- fuck- I'm so sorry." The dam inside of Jay was broken. He seemed to be spilling every thought he had, tears clouding his vision as he did. His hands shook as he clutched the steering wheel, and Tim worried about the logistics of driving safely while crying.

"Pull over." Tim muttered. Jay, unsure of what Tim planned to do, but seeming to have an inkling of trust in Tim, obliged. He slowly pulled the car off the side of the road, putting it in park and staring down at the wheel as he seemed to have a death grip on it.

Jay sniffled, eyes still brimming and spilling with tears. He refused to look up, he just let his hot tears stream down his face, slowly gliding down his chin, his neck, and soaking into the neck of his shirt.

After a few moments of awkward silence, only broken by Jay's slowly quieting sobs, Tim silently reached over, placing a hand on Jay's shoulder. His grip was firm, but not aggressive. It was a silent reassurance. A way of saying "I'm here. You can cry" without Tim having to actually say it.

After a few moments, Jay finally looked up, over at Tim. Tim's eyes locked with the tear ridden boy, and he gave him a weak half-smile. It was the most vulnerable he had ever managed to be.

Suddenly, Jay's gaze shifted, and his eyes filled with horror as he stared at something just past Tim. Tim quickly shot his head around, searching for any kind of warning signs. There was nothing. Nothing except for the distant line of trees. Tim looked back to Jay, who had began to shake. Jay's breathing quickened, and his eyes were wide, stray mumbling escaping his lips.

"H-he's out there... isn't he. H-he's coming for us a-a-and he-"

Jay let out another sob. The shaking, the state of frozen shock,, the hyperventilating, the mindless mumbling, Tim had a vague idea of what was going on. He figured Jay was having some sort of panic attack, induced by the paranoia that "It" was out there, watching them.

Tim has had his fair share of these. He knew how to pull someone out of this state. He have Jay a soft gaze before unbuckling his seatbelt, turning and opening the door. He got out, turning to Jay. "I'm coming over there." He let Jay know he wasn't leaving him, reassuring him that his presence would return. He walked over to the drivers side of the car, popping the door open. He reached over Jay, and unbuckled his seat belt, reaching out a hand for Jay to grab. "We're going to go to the back seat. You'll have more space, you can lay down. You won't feel as cramped." Tim explained, his usual gruff tone replaced by a tender and cautious one.

Jay, barely processing his surroundings, only nodded before grabbing onto Tim's hand. Tim steadied Jay, the poor guys legs shaking from the shock and fear. He steadied him, opening the back door and allowing Jay to climb in, Tim following suit as Jay crawled into the middle seat, his breathing still quick and shaky.

Tim kept a firm grip on Jay's hand, trying to comfort him, reassure him.

"Jay... hey, listen. Its okay. Alex, The opera-"

"Dont say its name-" Jay quickly interjected, eyes wide with fear as he stared at Tim.

Tim nodded, continuing on. "-it is not there. You're okay, Jay. You're here. You're in the backseat for your car." Tim grounded him the best he could, a soft tone edging into his voice. He looked at Jay, a gaze that once only held contempt towards him, now only laced with concern and care. He was like him. He was scared.

Jay seemed to subconsciously lean into Tim's presence, the only constant in his boggled mind. This didn't go unnoticed by Tim, him being the ever observant man he was.

"How about you lay down. C'mon." Tim mumbled, awkwardly taking a hand and placing it behind Jay's head, leading him so that he could lay down. Jay didn't complain, and in fact seemed welcoming to the touch. He gingerly rested his head in Tim's lap, seeming hesitant at first, before the exhaustion of his slowly calming panic attack took over. "Good... now, breathe with me, kay?"

Jay didn't audibly respond, simply nodding. Tim gave him a half-smile, taking that as a yes, and he took a deep inhale for 4 seconds, holding for 8, and exhaling for 7. Jay followed suit, inhale, hold, exhale. The cycle repeated a few times until Jay's breathing became steadier, and he wasn't shaking with fear. Jay's eyes rested upon Tim's stark features. He found an odd sense of calm in the mind. To him, Tim was possibly the strongest person on the planet. If Tim could do it, then so could he.

The staring didn't go unnoticed by Tim. He gazed down at the man in his lap, eyes soft. Absent-mindedly, Tim's hand that rested behind Jay's head had began to carefully play with his hair, curling his fingers into it and releasing. When the action was noticed, Tim began to pull his hand away, unsure if the touch were bothering Jay. Before he could, Jay grabbed Tim's wrist, and he pushed his head back towards his hand. Almost like a cat.

Cute.

Tim chuckled, returning to curling and unfurling his fingers around Jay's locks. The feeling seemed to calm Tim as well, the repeated action calming his ever-raving mind.

After a few moments, Jay's eyes seemed to be slowly drifting shut. Tim let out a hum, glancing up at the front seat. "We gotta get going, Jay." Tim mumbled, glancing up to the front seat. Jay let out a defiant groan, shaking his head, bring his hands up, placing them against his chest and dragging them down in a semi-circle motion.

Tired.

Tim was aware of Jay's tendency to go non-verbal. He often experienced the same thing. He nodded softly. "It's okay, I'll drive." Tim hummed. "You wanna stay back here so you can spread out?"

Jay quickly shook his head. Tim didn't blame him. The dark and dim backseat didn't seem like avery comforting spot at the moment. "Alright, come on, I gotcha." Tim popped open his door, allowing Jay to sit up before he slid out, Jay following him in the process. Jay sleepily stumbled next to Tim, Tim keeping a tight grip on him as he opened the passenger door and helped Jay sit down.

For a few minutes the car ride was silent, the only sound being the soft sound of the radio, turned down so that it wouldn't disturb or overwhelm Jay.

Tim felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked over, finding Jay leaning closer to him. Jay watched him for a moment before signing.

Talk to me.

Tim looked back to the road for a moment before his gaze returned to Jay. "Talk to you? 'Bout what?"

Anything.

Tim nodded, thinking for a moment.

"I used to hate you." Wow, harsh opening. He looked over, seeing a panicked yet understanding look upon Jay's face. "I was... angry. And my mind was fucked and I just. Raged. Not saying that you publishing my medical files online for all to see is okay, but what I'm saying is... I understand. You.... you're scared. You never intended to get dragged into this and you are just trying to help. I honestly think it's a bit admirable." Tim let out a short chuckle. "I wanted to have something to hate. Someone to blame and take my anger out on other than myself. And you were right there and I just- I shouldn't have punched you. I'm sorry, about that. Hope I didn't mess up your cute face too bad." Voicing his concern had always been an issue for him. It still was an issue, but it was obvious that Jay wanted some sort of reassurance. Tim was willing to give it.

You think my face is cute?

Jay cheekily grinned, and Tim just stared, sputtering for a moment. "Thats not- no- i-"

Jay chuckled, the noises catching Tim's attention, embarrassment of being caught in the act of complimenting someone written all over his face.

I think your face is cute too.

☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆

Part of Tim wanted to hate Jay. He wanted to despise him. But he couldn't. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop liking him.

#jam #marble hornets #jay x tim #theyre so important to me #gay gay homosexual gay #idk what this is. just me rambling.

21 notes · View notes

kokomochi · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐑𝐚𝐧

"𝙨𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙖𝙝?"

suffering from a terminal illness- l/n y/n takes it upon herself to complete her little list before her time runs out. what she thought was a journey for one, turned into an adventure with roppongi's haitani ran

12. iron fists MASTERLIST

it's been weeks since haitani ran was able to freely taste the adrenaline coursing through his veins as his fists connected with heads- not bothering whether or not he got blood on his uniform.

the male was hanging out with y/n before he received a call from his younger brother saying that there was a gang wanting to confront the infamous haitani brother's of roppongi.

and who was he to turn down the opportunity to bring them to their deathbeds?

only fools who live under rocks wouldn't know about the notorious delinquents ruling over the city, and only mere shit heads would be stupid enough to even challenge them to take their place.

(e/c) eyes were trained on him and only him- not caring if his face had splatters of blood on them or the disgusting sounds of their skulls being bashed onto the pavement below them, she didn't care one bit as long as he wasn't in their places.

the older of the haitani brother's made sure to take her with him, promising that they'd continue on with their little adventure after stopping for a detour at a sketchy alleyway where rindou was waiting.

of course, the youngest brother was tasked to protect her from viewing such ghastly sight- but the girl herself chose to watch the one-sided fight that was happening right in front of her.

it wasn't the first time that she had seen him beat up other people til they're not recognizable, remembering the second time that they met when he almost killed those nasty pigs that society calls 'men'.

you'd expect her to be scared of him, wanting to be nowhere near him or be related to him in any shape or form- but that's where you're wrong.

because l/n y/n wanted to be beside him even if he's covered in blood that's clearly isn't his- guys who can fight can surely protect her from harm, and that's one thing that she had fallen for him.

any normal beings would be wary or even terrified of haitani ran once they saw what he's capable with- but she wanted to see him in action more, wanting to see just how far he can get to those who defy him and his brother.

with a final punch to the face, the dual hair colored male stood up, looking down at the unconscious bodies that he had created with pride.

"that's what you get for trying to mess with the king's." he gave them a lazy yet malicious grin, knowing that they wouldn't be able to walk around the streets acting like they own the place anymore.

the male looked to the side, purple eyes meeting with ones that held a look of amusement- kind off shocked that she was watching all this time.

well, he should've expected that since he did take her with him in the first place.

"you were looking?"

now don't get him wrong, haitani ran loves it when he's got people's attention whenever he's beating someone's ass into shape- loving the scared murmurs that the crowd is having and that's all because of him.

but right now, it's his first time being scared on what other's think of him- especially a specific girl with (h/c) hair.

the thought never crossed his mind even when they've been hanging out for almost a month, so it's safe to say that he's in the middle of being scared and just anxious....

is she scared of him now?

he knows that this wasn't the first time that she had seen him in action, but the first time that she had actually seen him beating up some lowlife's was when he saved her from her assaulters- do that wasn't much of an issue since he was helping her.

but in this scenario, he was seen beating up people for no reason at all except for him and his brother to maintain their reputation and spot as the top delinquents in the entirety of roppongi.

and he's painfully aware of what people think of him whenever he's seen doing just that- terrified.

is she going to avoid him because of this?

he should've had thought about it more before he had mindlessly allowed her to follow him around- knowing the risks and overall danger that would've happened if there was a sudden accident that ensued.

is she-

purple eyes looked down when he felt warm hands cupping the sides of his face- meeting with concerned ones that stared up at him in sincerity.

"are you alright? you didn't hit your head now did you?"

y/n tried her best to snap him out of his trance, noticing how his fists clench and unclench with what ever thoughts he had plaguing his mind- immediately leaving the younger brothers side to console him.

ran looked down on her with a mix of guilt and shock, hands wrapping around her wrists and basked on the warmth of her mere hands- finding solace and comfort in them that he had never felt before.

it was so uncharacteristic of the male to do it, but can you blame him?

all he wanted was for the girl that he likes to not disappear from him just because of some honest mistake- and receiving her touch alone was an indicator that she wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"hey-"

(e/c) eyes widened when she felt him lean down, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he let out a short yet shaky sigh.

the two of them didn't know what was going on- y/n being confused because he wasn't the type to get all sappy with her, especially in public. and ran confused because he didn't know why he felt that way.

it's obvious that he has feelings for her and he knows it- but he just couldn't explain why his heart felt like it was about to burst the moment he leaned into her touch.

rindou left the scene as soon as his brother showed that simple sign of affection. and as much as he wanted to stay and watch the whole thing unfold like he was watching his regular drama movies- he knew that the two of them needed space.

hands immediately went up to his head, caressing them with gentle affection in each touch as his eyes closed to bask in her warmth.

(e/c) looked at him with a small smile on her face, knowing better than to comment any teasing remarks since she felt his sincere and genuine fright from whatever was on his mind- thankful that it either left or he had managed to forget about it.

"thank you..."

"i've got you you big baby." she chuckled, embracing his lean figure as ran regained his thoughts and breathing.

embarrassment replaced his feeling of fright, slowly pulling away from her with a small blush coating on the apples of his cheeks as he tried his best to look at anything but her.

y/n was more than happy that he was back, and although the girl was curious as to what led him to be suddenly affectionate- she respects his privacy and is more than willing to act as his emotional support.

after all, he is helping her out with her little list- it's the least that she could do to repay him.

she chuckled at his awkward expression, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulders to get his attention. thankfully, he had swallowed enough of his pride and managed to look her in the eyes.

"let's go get some ramen alright?"

ran had a gentle look in his eyes, thankful that he had someone as understanding as her- excluding rindou because... reasons yeah?

he wasn't a religious guy- growing up with no knowledge about what's written in the bible due to his parent's not believing in them as well.

but, maybe he'll make today an exception and give a quick prayer to the gods, thanking them for sending him someone that he can put his trust onto.

the dual hair colored male grinned, letting her lead the way as a smile etched itself on her face- fingers immediately circling his wrist to drag him out of the sketchy place.

"let's go raid another convenience store!"

"y/n, no."

#haitani ran #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #ran haitani #haitani ran x you #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #angst

33 notes · View notes

notsamsfanaccount · 7 months

Text

it’s been hours and im still losing my mind over ed’s purgatory scenes and revival

he ABSOLUTELY deserved to get his fuckin skull bashed in btw

before this, i didn’t like izzy at all. he was the guy i only liked because i hated his guts and wanted to see more shenanigans involving no one else take him seriously. he was a mean little punching bag bastard who ruined his own fuckin life over and over. he made me unbelievably annoyed, but everything he did was also hilarious to me.

now?? i almost like him. driving me batshit. jim and archie are about to kill each other and suddenly i said OUT LOUD “get him izzy” because someone needed to rock blackbeard’s shit. unimaginable before this moment.

ANYWAY. my point is the purgatory shit. it breaks down ed to his absolute fundamentals. his captain was a piece of shit and somehow he’s managed to be worse than him by now. he still remembers felix and what happened to him, and he’s inflicted similar pain on his own crew.

said captain talks down to him and he can’t be stopped with brute force like everyone else in ed’s life. he’s renounced his big scary pirate name, going by ben, and is living on his own as a normal guy. he makes shoes and has a pet pig. it’s what ed wants for himself. safe vulnerability, domestic life, hobbies, and no name or reputation to follow him.

ed presenting himself as jeff is (from my perspective) the version of himself in his mind that hasn’t done anything bad. someone who stede would’ve associated with even if he hadn’t run off to be a pirate. jeff is invited to events and is adored by everyone in attendance. jeff owns an inn for weary travelers who are grateful for his help. it’s presented as comedic, and it is to some extent, but he’s not feared, he’s not loathed, and he hasn’t killed anyone.

the one con for ed living being “no one would be waiting for him” was fucking shattering. he did it to himself, and it’s what would’ve doomed him. if he hadn’t pushed izzy too far, he would’ve still had his loyalty to return to. he said it himself that he loved izzy. his own selfish self destructive nature has taken down everyone around him, and that’s what would’ve kept him dead. and he would’ve deserved it. his greatest fear is being unlovable, and now he’s gone and made it certain that no one loves him.

ben being a projection of himself hit me like a fuckin train. (i’m insulted as a viewer that apparently calico jack would’ve beaten me to the revelation, but whatever.) ben is who he feared, who he’s become, and who he wants to be in retirement. the thing causing ed to be so destructive is his own self loathing. i mean, that’s obvious, but when he figured it out along with all the other purgatory shit, it felt like a gut punch.

i thought the whole thinking spot thing was gonna be “HA gotcha!! if you didn’t wanna live you wouldn’t have followed me here to the top of a mountain! now go on and have a pulse again you violent bastard” but NO. he gets chucked into the ocean of death. cool. and then???? stede?????? fucking shows up?????? to talk to his corpse??????????? oh my god. i’m sobbing at this point because now, everything might just be okay. the second he hears stede’s voice, the rock around his waist comes untied. jesus christ. INSANE.

there is someone waiting for him. he isn’t unlovable. he can still have the life that we wanted with the person he wanted. mermaid stede was SO fucking stupid but i was crying too hard to care. as someone who has attempted before, someone who was left by someone i thought loved me, and someone who just really likes this stupid pirate show, i’m never gonna be the same.

#ofmd season 2

1 note · View note

natromanxoff · 2 years

Text

Daily Mirror - September 2, 2006

Credits to Louise Belle and Queencuttings.com

The rise of Mercury

By JULIE McCAFFREY

WHO would have thought that the shy, toothy, 10-year-old sitting proudly behind his sports trophy would grow up to be one of the world's most flamboyant superstars?

Yet it wasn't for his athletic prowess that Farrokh Bulsara was to find fame, but as Freddie Mercury, the legendary frontman of rock band Queen.

Freddie was only 45 when he died of pneumonia brought on by Aids 15 years ago. Had he lived, he would be celebrating his 60th birthday on Tuesday.

To mark this milestone, Freddie's relatives have opened up their album for a special TV tribute to the star.

Their snapshots include photos of him as a wispy-haired baby in a flowered dress on his mother's hip, wearing the flower garland and skull cap of the Zoroastrian religion aged four, as a gangly seven-year-old with his little sister, as a young lad out for a bike ride with his mates, and as the fledgling rocker giving his mum a cuddle.

Together, the pictures give a fascinating insight into Freddie's early upbringing in Africa and India -- parts of his life he kept private from his fans and refused to discuss with his friends. The iconic showman believed his exotic background and family's Zoroastrian beliefs didn't exactly fit in with his wild rock'n'roll image.

Born on September 5, 1946. and christened Farraokh by his diplomat father Bomi Bulsara and mother Jer, he and his younger sister Kashmira spent their first years on the Tanzanian island of Zanzibar.

In 1955, at the age of nine, he was sent to St Peters private boarding school in Panchgani near Bombay where he got the nickname Freddie. He won trophies for sport, excelled at art and stood out as an accomplished pianist. Yet his schooldays were marred by homsickness and the stress of hiding a secret from his classmates.

Fellow pupil Zahid Abrar recalls: "Freddie felt very lonely and would sometimes cry in a quiet corner. He was homesick. At the time, I didn't know Freddie was a gay guy. I still wonder what was going on in his mind when we were chasing girls."

But his shyness and unhappiness didn't stop him shining onstage. By the age of 12, Freddie had played to his schoolmates in his first band, The Hectics. Music was already a big part of his life. In his early teens he and his schoolmates were obsessed with rock'n'roll and trying to perfect their Elvis-style quiffs.

In 1964, two years after Freddie finished his schooling, political unrest in Zanzibar forced the Bulsaras to look for a new home. He persuaded his parents to move to England and the family settled in Feltham, South London.

He spent the next 10 years at art school, doing part-time jobs and trying to establish himself as a musician. He formed Queen in 1970 with his friends Roger Taylor, Brian May and John Deacon. They found worlwide fame five years later with Bohemian Rhapsody and went on to sell 150 million albums.

As his fame grew, so did his notoriety. Freddie's wildly hedonistic parties became the stuff of his showbiz legend. He once flew a jumbo jet full of guests to Munich for a black and white ball and hired naked and mud wrestlers for a London bash. But despite the scandals he was always the consummate performer.

Mum Jer, who was there for his Live Aid performance in 1985, says: "I couldn't take my eyes off him. I thought, 'What have you done? You have proved yourself'."

But by 1987, his life of excess had caught up with him. His sister Kashmira Cooke, 55, says: "I did suspect he had Aids. But I didn't want to ask a dying man that question so I waited to see if he wanted to tell me. One day I saw that his foot was very badly scarred. He chose that moment to say, "Look, my dear, you must know that I am dying'."

Freddie's death on November 25, 1991, left his family and legions of fans devastated.

Kashmira says: "It didn't register until I saw the newspaper articles. I can remember now, reading with my dad, his tears and my tears dropping on to the article. I will think of him every day. Every single day."

Jer adds: "When I hear him on the radio, I realise that people still love him, people still remember him. That keeps me going."

• FREDDIE Mercury: A Kind Of Magic is on ITV1 on Tuesday, September 12, at 9.45pm

[Photo caption: MUMMY’S BOY: Jer holds her baby son Freddie]

[Photo caption: SHOWMAN: Freddie the rock legend]

#queen #queen band #freddie mercury #queen scans #daily mirror september 2006 #queencuttings.com #kashmira cooke #kashmira bulsara #jer bulsara #bomi bulsara

12 notes · View notes

sophie-i-guess13 · 1 year

Note

To your Dallas and Johnny moment, I shall raise you... The Plastered Epiphany of a Yankee: ((forewarning, implying the haze of the devil's lettuce 🍃 and spicy juice 🍾))

The air was black around him, but colors shriveled and danced around his body. They seemed to morph him, for his body swayed from side to side as he tried to focus on his footsteps. Icy fingers and sticky hands gripped his arms, his chest, his hair, in the mist as shrill cries and the beating of some sucked up symphony echoed in the corridor. The aroma of lust and cheap perfume suffocated him. The beating of heels pounded at his head.

He didn't know where everything was coming from. He really wanted to tell everything to fuck off and let him walk in peace. For that seems to be something he can never get in his life.

He suddenly heard footsteps slowly creaking on every step of the stairs. Where were the fuck were they coming from? He isn't near the stairs. He shook his head to try and clear the noise. Turns out, he was on the stairs. How did he get here? What kind of fuckery put him here?

His hair stood on end, shivers racing down his spine as he touched and tasted every thing that felt like it had a pulse along the staircase. God, it was exhilarating. Liberating. Torturing. Intoxicating. He felt as if he has been on a verge of a high, and with every taste of desire he had found on his tongue, it was there, and gone again. He chased it. He needed it. He wanted it.

After all, anything Dallas fucking Winston wanted, he got. He surely succeeded in doing that. Didn't he?

Oh shut the fuck up... He heard a sound, coming from his mouth, say. Whoever on his tongue slipped away, once again, ruining his appetite. Whatever... I didn't need you anyway, a grumble slipped out.

He needed those voices to go away. Go away, and stop coming back. But, they were the only company he seemed to get at times. The only ones that seemed to stay, and not slip away. More. He needed more. Whatever has had, he needed more. The stash. He needed.

The stash... Yeah, he knows where it is. The stash.

He dragged himself away from his new flavor, and shifted from wall to wall for support going up. It's a lot different than having two people carrying you upstairs. At least they cared if your head almost got bashed into a hall light. No one cared for him now, so it seemed.

The noise started to fade away into a peaceful bliss behind him. Hell's Paradise, that should be the name of it. This is his happy place. This has to be... His happy.. Place.

Either his hands, or someone else's, trailed up and down his body. They were searching, feeling for something to unlock the door and exploit his riches. His hands got to it first, the jingling of the tiny metal pieces piercing his skull. He was tempted to throw them away and bust the door down himself. That would be fun.

He wrestled with the keys. Which one... Which one... What did it look like.. God, it was easier fighting with a guy downstairs than it was to fight with these damn keys. For fuck sake, which one?!

The haze of putrid smoke and the trickles of liquor both still on his throat soothed his frustration. They're his only friends. He saw colors again, light but dark hues of.. Colors. His world was rocking back and forth. Was he soothing himself.. Or was it the haze doing it for him? Whatever it was, he just needed it to wait until he got into the fucking room. Then the fun can start.

A blow came down on his back and sent him flying into oblivion, right through the fucking door. Or did it swing open for him? He toppled down to the floor of the musty, probably already occupied, room. Should he cuss anyone who dared make a move on Dallas fucking Winston. However, he couldn't move. He was paralyzed. He landed on his back, staring up into the darkness lurking above him. But he began to see colors there's too. How funny.. he chuckled.

He didn't know how long he laid there. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years. He didn't give a damn. He was having the time of his life - or so the haze was telling him so.

Through the mist of his mind, something came into view above him. Something familiar. A different aroma filled his senses: fresh grass.. with a hint of vanilla. What the fuck.. Is this?... Was this part of the affect? This wasn't part of the deal, but it was pretty damn good. But why does he know it so well? Alarms starting going off in his head, well, at least tried to.

The image was getting clearer now. It was only a head, with inky black on top, and dark brown beneath. And.. an echo. An echo went with the image. It was ringing in his ears now. Maybe a jukebox was skipping. He was hearing things.

He tried to lift his head to look closer, but it only came crashing down with a thump. That seemed to do the trick, because the image above him became clearer. It's a person. Someone.. he knows. They look all too familiar. The inky black in top became shaggy bangs, the dark brown skin was muddled with tiny scars on a face, and matching brown eyes set them.

Nah.. No fucking way this was happening. It's only a dream. But this dream was saying..

"Come on, Dal.. Get up, now.. This ain't your kinda dig."

"Johnny..," a whisper tumbled from his chapped lips. Johnny.

It always comes back to Tulsa.

Fucking Tulsa.

“Go home,” Johnny — if he could even call that hallucination his friend’s name — had nagged. Even when the room spun, sweat, beer, and vomit staining the front of his shirt, that’s all the voice screeched. The voice was Johnny’s, the face was his, too. Always lingering in his peripheral, just out of focus.

Hunger gnaws at his stomach, angry claws racking across his empty stomach as his foot falls heavy against the gas. Who’s car is this? Does that even matter? He had the keys, after all. Was it his? When did he get this? Dread curls down his spine like spring runoff. Too distracted by the faltering silhouette in the backseat, Dallas blows right past the sign welcoming him — for a lack of better words — home.

Welcome to Tulsa!

Population 330,350

#soapie’s stuff #asks!#in the heights!#I LOVE YOU

2 notes · View notes

mochiimiiki · 3 years

Text

| Icy greetings |

[Kaeya x F!reader]

summary: You and Kaeya have been on frosty terms ever since a rocky paired mission. How will being trapped go down?

warnings: uhhh unedited writing, nothing else?

A bitterness creeped up from your lungs and laced your words in a cool venom. “Kaeya. I can’t believe we got stuck because of you.”

The two of you had once again (reluctantly so) been assigned on a mission together. Your goal was to track some weasel down and arrest him. However, as Kaeya had insisted you pursue him into the cavern, the entrance collapsed behind you two.

Now, you unfortunately found yourself trapped in an unfamiliar cavern with a criminal on the loose.

Kaeya grinned lazily. You wanted to slap the smile of his face. He wore a smirk in all the worst situations. “Relax, sugar.” He cooed. “The rookie and the others weren’t far behind us~ they’ll catch up~”

You scowled. “They better, and for the record Amber isn’t a rookie! She’s an outrider.” You defended your friends name. While there was nothing wrong with being a rookie you were well aware the extent the nickname boiled your friend’s blood. Frankly, you wouldn’t allow anyone, especially not the cavalry captain, to bash her good name.

Kaeya watched you with a wary eye. He shrugged indifferently. It didn’t matter to him what her status was, she was simply a subordinate.

Kaeya watched as your facial expression contorted and you let out a sneeze. The sneeze was so pathetic and small he could’ve sworn it sounded like a kitten.

Embarrassed you opened your mouth to excuse yourself only for your words to die on your tongue. For kaeya let out the most hearty laugh you had ever heard.

It was pure, sincere and honest. A rare sight to behold from the devilish cavalry captain. Enamoured with his laughter you found yourself subconsciously chuckling alongside him.

As your laughters subsided you felt the icy greeting you had first exchanged begin to melt away. Leaving behind a small blossoming flower.

Kaeya closed the distance between you two. Towering over you. You squeaked at the sudden approach. Not expecting the blue haired male to approach you so suddenly.

“K-Kaeya?” You murmured, voice catching in the back of your throat. He smiled softly at you and cupped the side of your face. You made no move to leave. Frozen in place.

“You...” He began. “Sounded like a complete dork.”

“Kaeya!” You whined pushing against his bear chest. He had ruined a perfectly sweet moment. The two of you stared into one another’s eyes before bursting into a fit of laughter.

You may have been waiting out a criminal but who said it couldn’t be fun? After all there was only one way out of the cavern.

Your laughter came to a stop when you realised you were chuckling alone. Glancing upwards Kaeya wore the same soft smile on his lips. Cool breath, as a result of his cryo vision, gently caressed your face.

For a brief moment your eyes wandered lower. Momentarily stopping on his lips, fantasising how it would be if he were to kiss you. NO. You shook your head.

Kaeya and you were strictly friends. Besides he irritated you beyond belief almost all of the time. Why were you pondering such a scandalous idea?

Kaeya watched your eyes flutter downwards. Nothing could get past his eagle eyed gaze (despite the eyepatch). Kaeya brought his hand to your cheek, once again.

You hesitated staring up at him. “Kaeya if you’re going to call me a dork again...” You groaners, tired of his antics.

However, he hushed you. “Let me try something... just tell me stop...” He whispered into your ear.

As he pulled away he brushed his nose alongside the other cheek. Gently grazing you. You eyes widened in disbelief. Was he toying with you again?

However, your answer to the question was when he pressed his lips to your own.

At first he moved slow, waiting for you to respond. As he was about to pull away you entangled your own hands in his hair. Leaning upwards to kiss him.

Now it was his turn to be shocked. However, he missed no beat in returning your passionate kiss. His cool lips moulded easily with your lush, plump lips.

He moved his hand to the lower back of your head, cradling your skull.

The both of you pulled away, reluctantly for air. You remained in his embrace. Eyes filled with adoration.

Kaeya leaned his forehead against your own and then gently kissed it. You smiled softly.

“Y/N.” Kaeya breathed. “You’re still a dork...” You hit him and pushed him away. He chuckled in response.

“And you’re still a jerk.” You glowered to which he let out another hearty laugh. The two of your allowed a comfortable silence to fall upon the cavern.

“I love you...”

- - - - - -

Bonus:

“GUYS WE FINALLY FOUN-”

“GAH AMBER!” You squealed jumping backwards out of Kaeya’s embrace.

Amber stood gawking at the two of you. Lifting her hand and pointing while mumbling a stream of incoherent sentences.

Lisa appeared around the corner of the rocks that Amber had blown up with her pyro vision. She smiled softly. “My~ my~.” She cooed. “Looks like you two really hit it off.”

You giggled nervously. Your eyes travelled over to Kaeya. He wore a bashful smile and you could make out a faint blush covering his cheeks. cute.

#genshin diluc #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin traveler #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #design #genshin childe #genshin impact xiao #anime #kaeya icons #kaeya headcanons #kaeya x traveler #kaeya smut #childe x kaeya #diluc headcanons #diluc x traveler

223 notes · View notes

fandomficsnstuff · 3 years

Text

Guardian Angel - Part 3

Daryl Dixon x Reader

(Warnings: some gore and time skips and character deaths, but other than that, I don’t think so)

-Alright ya'll, I'm thinking smut in the next one, not sure how much, but it's gonna be there!-

You let out a grunt as you climbed over a big log, you had somehow ended up in a clearing, one you didn't exactly recognize, and it was getting dark, fast. You looked around the clearing from your new vantage point, trying to take in anything that might seem familiar, and you were about to give up when you saw the faintest line of smoke in the distance, without really thinking you jumped down off the log, letting out a small whine as you landed wrong on your foot, but you didn’t have time to think about that, you bolted in the direction of the smoke and finally, finally, you arrived at camp, panting heavily as you saw the familiar head of Glenn, and he was the first to see you, his smile fading as he got up and rushed over to you, hugging you tightly, babbling on about how worried he had been when you hadn’t returned from the hunt with Daryl, you could barely understand him, but you were just glad to be back, hugging him as tightly as you could before letting him lead you to the fire.

You winced as you sat down, you felt like your ankle was burning, but no one noticed in the darkness that had overtaken your little camp. You glanced at a new guy who sat with Lori and Carl, and he met your gaze, giving you a soft smile “hey there, I’m Rick Grimes” you smiled and gave a little awkward wave “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)” you greeted, your eyes flickering between Lori and Rick, they sat so close together, cuddling up to each other like a couple, but you thought… Lori and Shane? Maybe you thought wrong. You shrugged off the thought as Dale patted you on the shoulder, letting you know it was good that you were back. You couldn’t help but look around, usually Merle would’ve commented on where you’d been and what you’d been doing, but there was nothing, and you couldn’t really find Daryl either, leading you to look at Andrea who had a sullom look on her face.

“Andrea, not that he’s missed but where’s Merle?” you frowned as you saw the sad look she gave you, making you let out a silent ‘oh’ as you leaned back in your seat on a log, staring at the ground.

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

You couldn’t help but scream as a walker grabbed your arm, your knife immediately finding it’s way into it’s skull through it’s eye, but you couldn’t get it out, leaving you with no weapon as you quickly moved away from the now dead walker, running as fast as you could with your injured ankle over to Sophia and picking her up and out of the way as a walker tumbled after you, Sophia screaming and crying in your arms as you continued moving away from the approaching walker, your ankle burning as you limped as fast as you could. You let out a scream again as a shot rang out and you saw Rick with his revolver raised, smoking, and the walker dropping dead as you moved to Rick, putting down Sophia but still holding her hand as you spotted Carol, quickly moving over to her so Sophia would be more safe.

You hugged Carol briefly as she cried, thanking you endlessly for saving Sophia, but you didn’t really pay attention, seeing Daryl kill a walker, another approaching fast behind him. You quickly picked up a shovel, limping over and wacking it over the head, inches away from Daryl who quickly turned around, wide eyes staring at you in shock as you kept bashing the walker’s head in, slamming the shovel down on it several times until it’s face and head was more puddle than solid, after which you looked up at him, you were still angry about him leaving you, so once you made eye contact you just turned around and went back to Carol, shovel still in your hands with walker blood and brains on it.

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

You let out a short cry as you watched Andrea sit on the ground with Amy, this couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t happening. You limped closer, seeing Andrea clutch Amy in her arms as she cried and screamed. You felt your eyes burn as you watched her, it was almost daylight now, you could see the sun peeking over the horizon, bathing you all in a golden light, it was almost ironic, this golden, almost heavenly light, bathing bloodsoaked people in it as they were surrounded by death, makeshift weapons and guns in hand, like the world was playing a joke on you all. On any other day you would have felt at peace, being bathed in the colorful light, the chirping of birds and frogs quaking down in the quarry, maybe some of the fires would still be burning, kindling, but not today, not now, not here.

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

You helped load as many supplies into the cars as possible, wincing once again as you put too much pressure on your foot. You were so lost in thought, trying to make everything fit, that when you felt a tap on your shoulder you flinched, barely still standing as you spun around, a part of the night still lingering in you, how close the walker had been to biting your arm before you stabbed it, the pain you felt in your ankle as you carried Sophia, how you killed that walker with a shovel, everything in your head was running a thousand miles, spinning out of control, adrenalin still pumping through your veins, making you ready to fight again as you turned around, but all you were met with was his eyes, though downcast and shy. You snapped yourself out of it, sighing as you looked away from him “what is it?” you didn’t see how he cringed ever so slightly at your hostile tone, but he guessed he deserved that. When you didn’t get a response right away you looked back at him “what?” he nodded towards your ankle “ya alright?” you scoffed at his question, turning around to continue pushing the supplies into the car “I’m busy right now, you wanna leave someone in the woods, go find somebody else” you snapped, about to turn away from him when he gripped your arm, it didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t gentle either “sit” he nodded to a rock, making you frown but you still did as he told you.

You watched as he kneeled down and took off your shoe and your sock, he was surprisingly gentle, his fingers moved in such a soft manner that you had never even thought was possible for him, how he carefully slid off your shoe, how his fingers barely touched you as he pulled off your sock to look at your ankle. You winched again as the sock was finally off, seeing your ankle red and swollen surprised you, you hadn’t even looked at it yourself. Daryl sighed as he gently turned your foot, making sure not to hurt you too much as he did, checking all around your ankle to see how bad it was.

“ ‘tis alright, ‘s just swollen and bruised, take it easy and it’ll be alright in a day or two” he carefully helped you put your sock and shoe back on, and you couldn’t help but blush, he was so gentle, so careful, it was unbelievable. Afterwards he helped you get up, pretty much picking up all your work by packing the cars from then on, which made you smile even just a bit. You got ready to get in the car with T-Dog when he stopped you, gently pulling you aside from the others, his eyes downcast again and shy as he stared at the ground “so uh… if you wanna you could ride with me on my bike…” your eyes widened just the slightest, watching him pick his gaze back up to look at you, clearly regretting it as soon as he saw your face “or whatever” he were about to leave you when you grabbed his arm gently “sure, my ankle could use not being packed into a van” he nodded and gave you the faintest smile before going back to his bike, Lori approaching you from behind as she carried a box “Daryl and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…” she began making you turn around and slap her arm “it’s not like that!” the two of you laughed as you continued to pack the cars, Lori nudging your shoulder a few times, every time Daryl glanced at you, and every time you looked back up at him and gave him a small smile, he still had to make up for leaving you in the forest, knowing full well you couldn’t find your way back, but he was well on his way, you thought.

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

You kept your eyes downcast as you swung your leg over his bike, settling in behind him as your arms wrapped around his midsection, you didn’t want to leave Jim behind, but it was his choice, a choice you could respect, even if you didn’t understand it. You pressed your cheek to Daryl’s back, his leather jacket digging into your skin, but in a comforting way, and just as he were about to start his bike, you heard the faintest voice say ‘I ain’t gonna let that happen to you, I promise’ coming from the man in front of you, which just made your arms around him tighten, which he didn’t mind, a hand coming up to gently stroke your arm around him before he started up his bike again, the engine roaring to life was enough to clear your head, if only for a moment, and you decided to instead try to focus on the things around you, not behind you. You didn’t want to think about Jim, you didn’t want to think about how sick he looked, how pale and fragile he was, you wanted to focus on the words Daryl whispered, on how it felt to wrap your arms around him, of the wind howling in your ears as you clung to Daryl, how his leather jacket felt against your cheek, that’s what you wanted to focus on.

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

You held your knife like Daryl had shown you as more walkers came pouring from - well - everywhere. They seemed to pop out of nowhere, and it was getting dark, Rick was shouting at a broken camera like someone could see you, Shane wanted to go and you stayed with Daryl, his crossbow raised as his target shifted from one walker to another, keeping eyes on as many as possible. You had already taken one walker down, your group, your friends, retreating as much back as possible, you were getting cornered, and for a brief moment, just a moment, you lowered your knife and hugged Daryl from behind, which clearly surprised him, and you quickly let go, raising your knife again, but you kept your eyes on him, a few tears in your eyes as you smiled “I didn’t want to die without doing that first” you whispered, his eyes widening and his eyes went back and forth between the walkers and you, your eyes still on him, and after what felt like eternity, but was probably more like 15 seconds, he swung his crossbow around his shoulder and got out his knife instead, his hand intertwined with yours, fingers locking, still ready to fight but not leaving your side either.

You let a tear fall down your cheek as you clutched his hand tighter, when suddenly the closed off entryway into the CDC opened, your eyes widening as everyone hesitated, but eventually Daryl all but dragged you inside, moving as fast as he could, not letting go of your hand for one second, your ankle still burned, but adrenalin made it hard for you to notice.

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

You let out a giggle as Daryl challenged Glenn, and you had to admit, you were curious yourself as to how much he could drink. You laughed even harder at something Glenn said while drunk, unintentionally leaning into Daryl as you leaned back, doing a full on Chris Evans laugh. Daryl’s eyes stayed on you as he smiled, watching you like you were the most beautiful person in the world, and to him, you were. Your smile, your eyes, god, your beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes, and your hair, you were beautiful, perfect, which was why he felt bad feeling like this, you didn’t deserve him, you deserve someone who treated you like the beautiful woman you were, you deserve someone who can take care of you, love you the way you’re meant to be loved, someone who wouldn’t leave you in the woods because they got flustered and scared of showing how much they care. Your smile faded as Daryl leaned away from you, your hands had previously been interlocked but he slid his hand out of yours, avoiding your gaze as you looked at him confused, but eventually you leaned away from him as well, taking a sip of your wine as you stared at the table, your good mood suddenly dampened, which felt like a punch to Daryl’s stomach, maybe he should’ve just stayed by your side, it made you so happy, but it was too late now, Shane ruining the potential for a good mood returning and soon you all left the table, being shown to your rooms.

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x Reader #TWD FanFic

43 notes · View notes

jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 3 years

Text

THE BASTERDS’S ANGELS

Somewhere in a safe place in the French countryside, a group of armed men prepared themselves for the mission they were sent for: killing Nazis and sending fear through the ranks of the Wehrmacht based in France.

And until now, they managed to accomplish their work, as the German soldiers only knew them as The Basterds.

Led by Lieutenant Aldo Raine, those volunteers took pleasure in killing and terrifying their foes, as many of the Basterds were Jewish.

Looking at his men, Aldo smirked: he could not wait to hunt down new Nazis.

"I know that look. Looking for new scalps, darling?"

Smiling, he turned and saw the woman he cherished the most.

"You know me too well, honey."

"That's why we're husband and wife!"

"Ya damn right, Winona."

The woman named Winona was, indeed, Aldo's wife. Born in the Cherokee tribe, this woman was the embodiment of the Native American female warrior: athletic, wise, loyal, and brave.

Moreover, she was the only woman in this group. Some people would think that a woman had nothing to do in the U.S. Army.

But quoteth Donny, "She kills more nazis in one day than I kill in three days."

The Cherokee woman has already won the respect of her peers since the first day in France. Besides, she gained a gruesome reputation among the Nazis based in France. They called her "The Cherokee Amazon."

The Apache and the Cherokee: a match made in heaven who took their enemies in hell...

Aldo put his arm around her shoulders:

"Can ya believe it, honey? You and I, in France, killing fascists... How pleasant it is!"

"I agree."

"It's like our honeymoon!"

Winona laughed at this statement.

"Well, a very blood-thirsty honeymoon. But honestly, I would never imagine killing Nazis without you, Aldo!"

"Aw, sweetie! Ya know how to talk to me!" he grinned before kissing her.

A sweet moment interrupted by the booming voice of Donny Donowitz, aka "The Bear Jew."

"Aw, look at those lovebirds!"

"Damn ya, Donny! I was enjoying this moment!"

"We have noticed!" smirked Wicki.

Raine rolled his eyes but smirked. His men are the best among the best, especially when it comes to killing Nazis.

They all came from different backgrounds, had various faiths, but for sure, they were more than ready to wipe out the Third Reich.

Of course, among his men, there was Donny Donowitz, a sturdy chap from Boston and the other leader of the group. This man gained the nickname of "Bear Jew" after he bashed the skull of dozens of Nazis with his prized baseball bat.

Then, you have Wilhelm Wicki, who fled his native Austria after the Anchlüss. Probably one of the oldest members of this group, his remarkable marksmanship made him a feared sniper.

Sitting next to Wicki was Hugo Stiglitz, a former German soldier. He hated the regime to the core, and he managed to kill 13 Gestapo officers. The Basterds get him out of his jail, and now, Hugo became one of them. More silent than some of his teammates, he easily scared people around him.

Near them, a young man was quietly reading a book, enjoying this peaceful moment. This young man was Smithson Utivich, another Jewish-American soldier. Like his friends, he enrolled in this group to save the remaining European Jews from Nazism's clutches. Even if he was not the most impressive, he excelled at killing Nazis.

The one next to Utivich, who was taking a small rest, was Omar Ulmer, his best friend. A remarkable soldier, Private Ulmer often works along with Smithson and Donny during his missions. Fast and efficient, the Nazis did not stand a chance against him.

Not far from Omar, his friend Gerold Hirschberg was laughing with his comrades. Hirschberg was considered a loyal and cheerful friend by his fellow Basterds. However, his hot-tempered character made him the official trouble seeker of the group, as he often found himself in danger.

The other man talking with Hirshcberg was named Michael Zimmermann. He has the two roles of driver and explosives expert. The Germans muttered that he was a crazy man who escaped from an asylum. But the truth was that Michael only became mad when he saw a swastika. But for the Basterds, he was a pleasant companion and a joyful friend.

Sitting at his right, his best friend named Simon Sakowitz was tidying his medical stuff. Before the war, he was a brilliant medicine student, but he decided to put his studies on hiatus to enroll in the army. Simon was a skilled and efficient doctor in his group and also an appreciated friend.

Smoking a cigarette, Andy Kagan smirked while looking at his teammates. The young Mister Kagan came from a wealthy family and started a promising acting career in Hollywood until he decided to rescue his people in Europe. He was the spy of the group, a master of manipulation and charm.

Leaning against a tree, Archie Hicox looked at his allies with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement. This British officer was the last addition to the group. In the beginning, the MI5 spy did not get along with the Basterds, as he saw them as a bunch of crazy rednecks while the others considered him as a snobbish man. But the more they worked together, the most they trusted each other, and mutual respect started to settle between them.

All those men were here in France for one reason: killing Nazis.

Something they excelled, as they did earlier, as they exterminated an entire patrol an hour ago.

Now, they enjoyed a moment of calm to relax before reaching another town.

Suddenly, Aldo gently stroke Winona's cheek and said:

"Get ready, my lady. We're gonna move!"

"At your orders, Mr. Raine!" smirked the woman as she started to pick up her belongings.

Smiling, the Lieutenant turned to his men and exclaimed:

"Get up, boys! We move!"

"Uh? What? What's going? Are we attacked?" asked Omar, startled.

"Nah, Omar. The Lieutenant just said we're moving. Get up now!" explained Donny.

"Where are we going?" asked Simon.

"Probably somewhere near Fontainebleau. At least, we have to get closer to Paris," replied Utivich.

"Exactly, Smitty! I hope I will have time to pay my debt off once we got there!" sighed Zimmermann as he finished packing up his stuff.

As he picked his backpack, Hirschberg noticed Hugo, who trimmed his knife in his bag. Smirking, the young Basterd came nearer to his comrade. A little game that Andy and Wicki had noticed.

"Oh my Lord! Here we go again! Will Hirschberg never learn his lessons?" sighed the Austrian.

"I wonder how it will end this time: will Hirschberg have a kicked butt or a broken nose?" smirked the American.

Meanwhile, Gerold was close to Hugo and said with an authoritative tone:

"C'mon, Stiglitz! Hurry up! We have to go!"

The German deserter turned and glared at his teammate:

"Lass mich in Ruhe, Hirschberg." (Leave me alone, Hirschberg).

"Why do I fear the worst?" sighed Simon as he pinched the bridge of the nose.

He counted how many times he healed the bruises on Hirschberg after the latter tried to pick up on someone stronger than him.

At the same time, Hirschberg teased Hugo while the latter tried to contain his anger. But his patience was running thin...

"Ich werde es dir nicht zwei mal sagen." (I won't tell you twice).

"Aw, come on! Don't look at me like that! I am trying to tell you that you're a bit slow!"

"Stop that, Gerold! You're going to regret it!" smirked Andy.

Indeed, Hugo was pissed off by Gerold. Fuming, he took his knife and put it on Hirschberg's throat.

"Leave me alone. Now!" growled the German man.

Gulping, the young Basterd raised his hands in defeat.

"O-OK, Stiglitz. I stop. Can you lower your knife, please?"

Growling, Hugo put his knife back in his vest while Gerold ran away.

"We told you that you're going to have trouble, Geri!" snickered Michael.

As for Wicki, he turned to Hugo and asked:

"War es notwendig, Hirschberg einen Schrecken einzujagen, Hugo?" (Was it necessary to scare Hirschberg, Hugo?)

"Er ist eine Nervensäge." (He is a pain in the ass.) snarled Hugo as he walked towards Donny and Omar.

Wilhelm rolled his eyes and muttered:

"Ich schwöre bei Gott, die würden mich wahnsinnig machen!" (I swear to God, they would drive me crazy!)

"C'MON, BOYS! WE HAVE A LONG ROAD!" yelled Aldo as he led the march along with Winona.

Soon, all the commando started their long road across the French countryside. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to make an encounter that would change their lives for a long time...

Meanwhile, Maddie and Ada wandered through the forest, looking for shelter.

A little earlier, they had almost been spotted by a German patrol, which had scared them.

Now, their priority was to find a safe place while they waited for help.

As they walked through the woods, Maddie saw a cave:

"Look, aunty! A shelter!"

"Well done, Maddie! Let's go!"

They rushed to the hiding place and checked that nothing was inside.

Once assured that they were alone, Ada ordered her niece:

"Listen to me, Maddie: you're going to stay here and make no noise, okay?"

"What about you? What are you going to do?" asked the little girl.

"I'll try to find something to eat. Keep quiet, do you understand?"

Maddie nodded. Smiling, Ada stroked her head:

"I'll be back soon, I promise!"

Then, she walked away while Maddie hid behind a rock.

The young girl hated being alone. Of course, she knew that it was necessary. But the truth was that she was scared.

She was afraid to be alone, at the mercy of the Germans. After all, what could a seven-year-old girl do when faced with armed soldiers?

And then, who knew what could happen to her aunt?

Well, the little girl knew that Ada was capable of defending herself. But if anything happened to her, she would not be able to survive.

Suddenly, she heard voices and footsteps approaching the cave. Covering her mouth and trying to be as hidden as possible, Maddie tried to figure out who had just arrived.

She kept her ears open and listened to the conversation:

"Great, guys! We can stop here!"

"Finally, it's about time! We must have been walking for hours, and my legs are killing me!"

"Stop complaining, Gerold!"

"Oh no! You're not going to start bickering again!"

Maddie was intrigued: these people seemed to be speaking in English. Well, at least she wasn't dealing with Nazis, which was good news.

But what were these people doing here?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear anyone enter the cave until a man's voice asked:

"What on earth are you doing here?"

Horrified, she looked up and saw a medium-sized man staring at her with a surprised look.

As for Omar, he did not expect to find a child alone in a place like this.

He called his boss:

"Lieutenant, come and see!"

"What?" asked Aldo, who arrived in his turn and saw the little girl.

"Look at that! It's quite funny!"

"What's going on?" asked Wicki.

For all answers, the two men came out of the cave, escorting Maddie. The little girl was looking at the rest of the group with a frightened look.

"It seems that our hideout already had an occupant!" declared Hicox.

"But who's crazy enough to leave a kid all alone in the wild?" exclaimed Michael.

"I don't know," muttered Andy.

Simon, in his role as a doctor, walked over to the girl:

"I need to check her out. Who knows, maybe she needs treatment?"

"Do your job, doc!"

Sakowitz kneeled in front of Maddie and asked her:

"Do you speak English?"

She hesitantly replied with a small voice:

"Y-Yes, doctor!"

"Aw, ain't she cute?" smiled Donny.

"Low your voice, Don. She is scared!" said Winona while looking at the young girl.

Meanwhile, Simon carefully examined Maddie. He realized that she might suffer from malnutrition.

"Oh God, look how thin she is!"

He turned to Aldo.

"Lieutenant, do we have some food to give her?"

"For sure! Omar, gimme some bread, would ya?"

"Right now, sir!" replied Ulmer as he threw a piece of bread.

Raine caught it and handed the bread to Maddie.

"Here, ya can have some!"

Hesitantly, the little girl took the bread and muttered:

"Thank you!"

"Cute and polite: you must be a lovely little person!" smirked Archie.

Maddie took a bite and ate slowly, enjoying the taste of the bread.

"Poor little thing! She must not have eaten for days!" declared Wicki.

Winona came nearer and asked:

"What's your name, little one?"

Once she finished her mouthful, the little girl replied:

"Maddie Mandelbaum!"

"Okay, Maddie. Now, tell me: what are you doing here, all alone?"

Looking around, Maddie replied:

"It's because I flee!"

"What do you flee?"

For an answer, Maddie picked her necklace and showed a silver Star of David.

That's all it took for the Basterds to understand what Maddie was trying to escape.

"I see... You're a Jew, right?"

The little girl nodded.

"I see... But what are you doing by yourself?"

"I'm not alone: my auntie went to get food."

"Well, okay. And what's your auntie's name?" asked Smithson.

A female voice answered:

"Why don't you ask me?"

Everyone turned to Ada, who was holding a bag over her shoulder.

The young woman looked suspiciously at this troop. Even though they were not wearing Wehrmacht uniforms, she did not want to take the risk of crossing paths with Gestapo soldiers.

"Well, I guess you're the famous aunt?" asked Omar.

"Indeed. I am Adela Mandelbaum. And you?"

"We are American... with a German deserter, an American-Austrian soldier, and a British officer," replied Andy.

Sighing with relief, Ada put down her bag.

"At least there's some good news in this mess!"

Maddie rushed to her aunt and said:

"Ce sont des gens bien, tata. Ils m’ont donné du pain!" (They're good people, Auntie. They gave me bread!)

Aldo walked over to Ada and introduced himself:

"Lieutenant Aldo Raine, nice to meet ya. So like this, you're the one who manages survival?"

"Yes, indeed."

"I see. And how long have ya been alone?"

"I don't know. I'm more concerned about escaping the Germans than counting the days."

Aldo nodded before replying:

"And I suppose you're hiding because you're Jewish, Imma right?"

Ada sighed.

"Exactly."

Donny spoke up:

"Lieutenant, we can't leave them alone. They'll get caught by the Krauts!"

"But they're civilians: we can't afford to have potential targets with us!" grumbled Hirschberg.

Hugo glared at him:

"Put yourself in the kid's shoes: would you like to be left at the mercy of those sickos? I don't think so."

Simon added:

"Besides, if they stay with us, they'll be safe. What do you think, Lieutenant?"

Raine massaged the back of his neck, doubtful.

"It's true that having two civilians with us can be a problem..."

He met his wife's gaze as she stared at him pleadingly. And if there was one person who could make Aldo Raine give in, it was Winona.

He sketched a smile:

"But as ya seem to me two brave women, it seems logical to me that ya stay with us!

This decision was greeted with enthusiasm by the rest of the team.

"I thank you for your help."

"No worries. After all, several of my guys are Jewish."

The young woman asked:

"Before I forget, Lieutenant Raine..."

"Yes, Miss?"

"What is your mission here?"

At these moments, she saw all the Basterds sketch a toothy grin. And the Lieutenant's answer did not hide their intentions:

"We parachuted into France for one mission and one mission only: to kill Nazis!"

Hugo asked:

"Doesn't that cause you problems?"

At these words, he saw a gleam in Ada's eye that he knew all too well. He could see the sorrow and hatred for the Nazis in her brown orbs.

And the determined tone of her voice confirmed his impression:

"On the contrary, it pleases me to hear that my people are being avenged. Hitler's foot soldiers stole my life and threatened my niece. I lost my family, and I don't know if they are alive or if those Gestapo goons shot them!"

She turned to Aldo and declared:

"Lieutenant, I know I look like a simple damsel in distress, but I want revenge. I want to make them pay for the evil they've done."

Impressed by this sudden determination, Aldo asked:

"What can ya do?"

"I'm an excellent shot, and I can fight."

"That's not so ladylike, coming from a young woman!"

Ada smiled:

"Who said I was ladylike?"

"My aunt is the best in the world... right after Mom!" pointed Maddie.

Aldo smirked and held out his hand.

"In that case, welcome to the team, Ada! Just so you know, if you join this commando, you owe me 100 Nazi scalps!"

Without hesitation, Ada grasped the outstretched hand and shook it in agreement.

"I will settle that debt, Lieutenant. And I will die trying if I have to!"

"That's what I like to hear!"

"But I want you to promise to look out for Maddie, no matter what!"

"PROMISED!" exclaimed the Basterds.

At that moment, Maddie's face lit up with an adorable smile that seemed to shine through the dim light of the Fontainebleau woods. Now she had nothing to fear from the Germans because now she had found guardian angels armed with guns and baseball bats.

As for Ada, it was a new life for her that began. She was not a prey anymore. Now, she was the predator.

The Germans better start running because she won't have mercy. And Ada Mandelbaum always kept her words...

Thanks for the reading!

Stay tuned for the next chapter!

@sergeant-donny-donowitz @marilynmonroefanfics @velvet-waltz @ocfairygodmother @redrosewritingsstuff @empress-writes @jokersqueenofchaos (whom I thank for the German translation) @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321 @knives-out17 @multific @cherryplasmids @askthebasterds @nataschalena2

#inglourious basterds #fanfiction #the basterds's angels

14 notes · View notes

whywasdumbbitchjuicealreadytaken · 4 years

Text

The Ballad Of [Y/N] Berry

(Bad guy sanses x female!reader)

Ooooohhh~

Down on your knees before the queen~

You walk down the halls, clinging onto your boyfriend's- G sans's- arm as your "friends" followed not to far from you

Ooooohhh~

Down on your knees before the queen~

The bad guys had gone to [Universe] to check out a shape-able glitch. Since she hadn't been in any other universes, all she needed was a little shove to set her on the right path...

"[Y/N] Berry was a popular bitch. Hot bod, hot boy, cheer captain, plus she was rich~" Nightmare was reading what he knew about the glitch off to the bad sanses

That girl had everything, till hiccup and hitched; Julie Jenkins lost a leg in a crash (Am-pu-ta-ted)

Horror, raspberry, and dust were the first to observe you. Killer was supposed to be here but he was was still healing up after the initial crash that he had caused. Raspberry's eyes examined your body, he elbowed dust and pointed you out to him. He didn't bother with horror, seeing as he was already staring..

The nominations for prom royalty came,

You smirked to yourself, you knew you were going to win just like every other year

Our [Y/N]'s senior year, and queen was her claim...

You felt someone tap your shoulders. You spun around to see, it was fell and cross from your biology class. "don't worry sweetheart we'll vote for ya." Fell wink, cross energetically nadded as an agreement and the two walked away. "Uh.. thanks i guess?" You muttered.

Till gossip stirred, the student body would name Julie Jenkins, queen of prom. (Pi-ty-Vote)

You blinked in shock as you saw the votes and what people were saying. An arm around your waist pulled you into a taller figure

"[Y/N]," G sans said "Life is like a prom, i know you wont disappoint me and mom..?".

With that, he walked away. Your mother died in an accident when you were 6 and whenever you fail, you always felt as if you were disappointing her..

"You taste the silver [Y/N]? You taste the crown?" Your desk neighbor, Bill, asked you. You simply ignored him. You heard someone tap you desk and you look up to see Alisans(alistor sans..?)

"You thirst for blood from the roses in hand." He told you. You stood up. "May i be excused??". The teacher nodded and you left the class.

You spoil for stash and scepter, music to dance, as they crown you queen of highschool land~

CHECK [Y/N]

CHOOSE [Y/N]

VOTE, FOR [Y/N] BERRY

Your eyes widened to see red X's on your vote for [Y/N] posters

CHECK [Y/N]

CHOOSE [Y/N]

VOTE FOR [Y/N] BERRY

You reported it to the principal then went about your day. Everything was normal until..

So obsessed our [Y/N] near lost her mind. To life Un-prom related, [Y/N] was blind.

Prom was getting to you. The pressure you were getting from G sans, your friends, and the constant feeling of someone watching you was driving you insane. Was worse, is it seems G was paying more attention to Julie then you..

She shoved her squad, her clique and boyfriend behind, Still one-leg Julie held to the lead. (Poor, poor Julie)

You sighed and ran your hand through your hair.

Soon [Y/N]'s sanity was hung by a thread, Her B.F.F.'s proclaimed her socially dead.

Your eyes narrowed 'fine. I don't need them!' You huffed and sat in your seat next to cross in chemistry. Atleast you still had G. You saw your boyfriend looking at you. You smile at G, but it quickly faltered when he turned away and began talking to Julie. You felt your phone buzz

Till then, at last, her boyfriend texted and said: "I'm taking Julie to the senior Prom." (Love, love Julie)

Your heart dropped and you decided to confront him after class. "G," you said calmly "what the hell? Why are you taking julie??".

"[Y/N]" G said "why be so calm, theres just no future for a Princess of prom."

You sat at home, on the evening of prom, shakily putting on your eyeliner and black lipstick/ lip gloss. You tried to hold your smiled but you couldn't keep a smiled and hold back tears at the same time..

You taste the Silver [Y/N]! You taste the crown.

You watch as your tears, accompanied by long black tears slowly fell down your face

You thirst for blood from the roses in handYou spoil for sash and scepter, music to dance, As they crown you Queen of High School Land.

You're smile faltered and you realize what must be done in order to be queen. You put on your blue flowy dress, it was off shoulder and had a slit in the left side.

Ooooh~

You walked downstairs and opened the front door to see Alisans, he handed you a hammer and kissed your hand then caressed your cheek. He handed you a rose and took you to G'S house.

Down on your knees before the queen~

You arrived at G's house found him walking towards his car, her ran up behind him and smashed a hole in the back if his skull.

Ooooooh~

You mercilessly stomped his head in and watched him turn to dust. But you weren't done.

Get on your knees before the queen~

You walked in front of the school and felt a hand grab your own. You looked up to see Bill, he winked and you smiled. He handed you a white rose and led you inside.

"$0m£ g!r|$ @r€ r@t!0^@| bUt [Y/N] ₩@$ ^0t"[translation: some gurks are rational, but [Y/N] was not]

Error told Nightmare with a smirk as the two watched. You had gone inside the bathroom.

She stared in mirrors thinking one single thought: There's seven reasons this crown's not good as got. And so the night of Prom, mercy! Thus went her plot;

Bill had gave you rat poisoning, you dumped it in one of your "friend's" punch, her blood had gotten on your rose.

"P" is for Patricia, drinking poisoned punch

Fell had came up next to you and snaked an arm around your waist. He took you outside and gave you a rock, while you were scanning the area you spotted Raquel.

"R" is for Raquel, dashed on a rock (crunch)

Fell handed you a blood cover rose. Cross grabbed your hand and brought you out back. Anne was busy getting high. You picked up a nearby brick and bashed her brains in.

"O" is what Anne said when Sara bludgeoned her brains

Cross kissed your cheek and handed you a blood rose like fell did. You went back inside where horror greeted you. You both went to a classroom, where you found Marianna. Horror showed you how to chop her up just right

And "M" is Marianna's marinated remains.

Horror pulled you into himself. He wrapped one arm around your waist and the other rested on your lower back. He swayed side to side in a sort of dancing motion. You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder with your hands on his chest.

But!But!

Dust cleared his throat. Horror scoffed and stopped swaying, he handed you a blood covered rose and winked at you. You went over to dust and held his arm. He led you to the school pool you spotted another friend and you made you work quick.

"Q" is for Quiara, quiet, drowned in the pool.

Dust gave you a bloody rose and took you to the kitched. In there, you helped raspberry chop up the body of Eunice.

"U" is for Eunice's pieces spread round the school

Raspberry gave you a rose and you left to find Julie..

But "E's" are for the easy way in five minutes tops. A one-legg'd girl can bring an "N" for end by calling the cops.(what a bitch)

You got your silver [Y/N], you got your crown

Nightmare placed a crown on your head

You got their blood on your roses in hand

Error gave you the roses using his strings

You donned the sash and scepter, doing a dance,

The bad sanses all took turns dancing with you on stage

As you crowned you Queen of High School Land!

You watched them leave with a smile on your face, this is all you've ever wanted. This is all you could of ever hoped.

Woah-oh-oh-oh, Oh, Oh!

God save the Queen...

Down on your knees before the Queen.

God save the Queen.

After about 30 minutes, you see flashing blue and red lights outside. You walk out, ready to accept your fate.

Woah-oh-oh-oh, Oh, Oh!

The Queen of High School Land.

Down on your knees before the Queen.

The Queen of High School Land.

They wrapped your wrists in silver, they took your crown

Your eyes widened as you watched them put the crown into an evidence bag "WAIT NO! STOP!" You cried as your dreams began to be taken away from you.

As they washed your bloody fingers and hands.

You weren't ready to go, you bit and scratched to the people who tried to wash you. They ended sedating you.

Into a tight straitjacket, small padded cell, As you screamed,

"I'm the queen of highschool land!!" You screeched and ran into the door repeatedly. The doctors came back in and sedated you again. The next thing you knew, you were in the arms of nightmare

At least in your head, you're Queen of High School Land.....

It had been several years, but you found julie. The boys[and Sunny] have been very affectionate and protective of you, Even error! Yeah I'll let that soak in.

Pity the dead! You're Queen of High School Land.

You began walking through the halls every sans you'd pass would sinister-ly grin.

CHECK [Y/N]

CHOOSE [Y/N]

VOTE FOR [Y/N] BERRY

Everyone gathered in the throne room as you approached it, you were dragging a crying,screaming,pleading, and begging Julie behind you by her hair.

CHECK [Y/N]

CHOOSE [Y/N]

VOTE FOR [Y/N] BERRY

You walked in and error shut the doors. A series of screams,applause,and laughter were heard from the throne room not long after.

#the ballad of sara berry #songfic #sans x reader #bad guy sans #error x reader #spotify #horror x reader #nightmare x reader #dust x reader #cross x reader #raspberry x reader #bill sans x reader #fell x reader #alastor sans x reader #[y/n]#Sunny sans #g sans

86 notes · View notes

imreallyloveleee · 3 years

Text

thoughts on 4x09

- flash poll: do we think they chose “tangerine” as the trigger word just because it’s also the name of a movie and they (almost) always name the episodes after movies?

- this episode is all over the place, and it moves fast, and frankly none of it is very interesting except maybe Jughead discovering that his grandpa lives in that old abandoned bus the Black Hood tried to kill him and Ethel in last season (I stg that is the same set)

- but even then, there really is not much to say here? (she said, and then proceeded to type out another 1,000 words) the first scene is confusing because Jughead sounds like he’s reading the very end of a book but he was only supposed to write the first chapter. and Dupont is immediately like

and just gives him the contract out of nowhere. is this.........................part of the “kill Jughead” ploy? i genuinely can’t remember. you don’t need to answer this. i will find out eventually. or not, because riverdale drops plot points like it will need a trail of them to find its way back through the forest someday. moving on,

- maybe my brain is poisoned by capitalism (just kidding, it definitely is) but $5k to buy the rights to the Baxter Brothers in...let’s just say 1970? that’s about $35k today, and NOT BAD for a YA mystery novel written by a teenager. nobody knew it would go on to make millions. just like his useless son, I have zero sympathy for FP Jones I.

- speaking of his useless son, oh my god, how useless is FP Jones II??????? let me count the ways.

1. Archie says everyone is “too scared to call you, or the cops”, which, uh, FP is the cops, Archie. how sad is it that when Archie’s in need of a father figure, he goes to THIS guy, when Tom Keller is standing right over there looking dejected with a pair of boxing gloves slung around his veiny neck.

2. FP has camera footage of vigilante Archie punching bad guys in the alley next to his rec center, because these bad guys? Never go anywhere except the alley next to his rec center. Never. Not once. I think they literally live there. And yet FP and his cop force...can’t track them down. Too hard. Nay, impossible!

3. FP decides the solution is for him to join Archie in beating up a couple of bad guys in said alley, which accomplishes absolutely nothing, because DUH.

Look, almost EVERY problem in Archie’s life this season is because of FP Jones II’s incompetent law enforcement. The end.

- back to Jughead for a sec: the secret society initiation scene at the end is fun! they do a little fakeout with Bret holding the rock, like maybe this is the moment they’ve been flash-forwarding to. instead Jughead gets to use it to bash open a skull (parallels!). you just know that lil drama boi is eating that shit up.

- Pop tells Veronica the speakeasy lost its liquor license. When did the speakeasy get a liquor license?

- Veronica’s recruiter for Columbia comes to the speakeasy. Veronica is like, can’t talk, gotta sing this tepid rendition of an Elton John banger in front of a room full of adults who hang out in bars run by high school students, and give Casey Cott a chance to earn his paycheck this week

- Bettybettybettybettybettybetty. I don’t know. I just don’t know. This storyline sinks deeper and deeper into absurdity until the moment when Charles tells her she can kill Dark Betty before she was born, if only Good Betty can go back in her memory and stop Child Betty from braining her dying cat with a rock. it’s at that moment when this storyline becomes so deeply stupid that it actually transcends all earthly matters and achieves the sublime.

- finally, Cheryl. this girl needs to hook me up with her air purifier because one second she is filling her entire enormous living room with multiple bug bombs, and the next everything is a-okay. I would feel very safe hanging out indoors at Cheryl’s house in Covid times.

- Penelope says she punk’d Cheryl with Julian the doll because Cheryl was living in such happiness with the dead corpse of Jason, and Penelope was jealous. I am just going to set this down, and leave it there.

- Jasons’ viking funeral is incredible. Who set that blazing fire? it is NOT easy to build and start a fire like that. I bet it was Betty. you just know there’s some poor sap downstream taking his kid fishing for the day who’s going to stumble upon Jason’s half-burnt, half-rotted corpse in a little boat. this is like the first scene in a horror remake of A River Runs Through It.

- is there a more iconic duo than “Betty and Archie” and “never appearing onscreen together ever, because they have nothing to do with one another’s lives”? go ahead, i’ll wait

#loveleee rewatches riverdale season 4 #will i finish by january 20?#yeah i probably will #because i'm def not watching ep 17 or 18 lol #riverdale

35 notes · View notes

aband0ned-s0uls · 3 years

Text

A like V - Part 1

-SPOILERS FOR ENDING-

This is my first time writing a fic, and I’m so excited/nervous to share it with you guys! V gets a ‘lil birthday surprise.

Also please excuse the dreadful formatting, I’m not a Tumblr pro.

---------

V swirled the dregs of her drink around her glass as she leaned half against the bar of the Red Dirt, her head resting on her hand, letting the vibrations from the music flow through the cool metal of the worktop and into her body as she waited for the bartender to pour her next one.

After spending months cooped up in her apartment, watching shitty movies, eating cold burritos and recovering from having her own engram re-write the chip, V had been more than surprised when Kerry had called her on the holo and told her – not asked – that he had organised a birthday bash at the Red Dirt for her and her attendance was required. I mean sure, she'd had visitors, and Kerry had been a lifeline in enabling her to get drunk, release her built up frustration by smashing the shit out of everything in true Eurodyne style and reminisce about Johnny, but she never thought in a million years that Kerry Eurodyne would be organising a birthday party for her.

What might have been weirder was the fact that he had also invited her closest friends. Maybe she just wasn't used to people doing things out of the kindness of their hearts, but it all felt a little surreal.

She was lost in her thoughts as she studied the soft red and purple glow illuminating the edges of her glass, musing on how it reminded her of many an exhausted night of stumbling into her apartment, heading straight for her bed after a job and falling asleep to the sounds of Night City. The soft glow of the neon street lights from her window dancing underneath her eyelids as she drifted off. Of many a night listening to Johnny chastise her for falling asleep fully clothed, dinner neglected, asking her for at least one fuckin' cigarette before she passed out. She would launch a pillow at him and tell him to shut the fuck up, he would chuckle and call her a cunt as it sailed through his engram and hit the wall with a soft thud, and she would drift off with a small smile on her face.

Johnny. The thought of him, his absence, she felt it like a punch in the gut. Her fingers tightened around her glass. She'd made it out of Mikoshi alive, the chip re-written by Alt to contain her own engram. She was whole again, but she didn't feel like it.

The music from the band onstage, the animated voices from the people in the bar, strangers, acquaintances and friends alike washed over and around her, but she still felt so alone, and that made her equals parts sad and angry. She'd never really felt alone before – hell, she'd even enjoyed her alone time, but Johnny not being around was like missing a hole in her fuckin' head.

Why should I miss the ghost of a fuckin' asshole?

But V already knew the answer to that question. He wasn't just any asshole, he was her asshole. Johnny, who would tell her she looked shit warmed up and made sure she ate something when she'd forgotten to all day in the same breath. Johnny, who would cover her back and alert her to enemies she hadn't spotted so she didn't get another bullet lodged in her fuckin' skull, but would let her gladly stay unaware of an object at her feet when she stumbled into her apartment drunk, just so he could laugh as she tripped and face planted the back of her couch.

Johnny who had been given a second shot at life, Johnny who was the most inherently selfish motherfucker she'd ever met had turned around and traded it for hers.

Johnny, who had brushed her hair behind her ear in cyberspace, and with more emotion in his voice than she'd ever thought possible, had said his only regret in this life was that they'd never get a happy ending.

She'd relived that memory, over and over again. She'd thought he'd meant as two chooms, riding through Night City, shooting the shit after another relentless job, like her and Jackie. But when she'd looked in his eyes, she knew he'd meant more. They'd both shared thoughts and emotions, and the closer they'd got on their journey to Mikoshi, the more their feelings for each other had become intertwined. Never needing to – or at least willingly – be spoken out loud.

Until the end. The look on his face as she turned around one last time before she crossed the bridge. The thought of more, and the implications of what could have been, was what kept her awake at night.

She was torn away from her melancholy thoughts when the bartender slid her fresh vodka lemonade over to her. V looked up and forced a smile. V's vision blurred slightly, and she told herself it was the four drinks she'd already had, but as she blinked rapidly she knew that wasn't the whole truth. Fuck it, she thought. If this was going to be the tone of the evening, a little extra alcohol could only help. Besides, it was her birthday, and V decided if there was ever an appropriate time to get shit-faced, now was definitely it.

“Two shots of tequila too please, choom.”

“Coming right up, chica.”

The bartender came back quickly with her shots.

One for Jackie, and one for Johnny.

V threw them back, one after another. Her eyes watered after the second, and a warm flush enveloped her from her head to her toes. She was buzzed, and the alcohol felt like an emotional safety blanket. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, but at least after 6 drinks it hurt a little less.

As the bartender took away her empties, V felt a familiar presence close in.

“Those are on me.”

V turned to see the one person who always managed to lift her spirits, Panam.

“Happy Birthday, V.”

V smiled, a genuine smile this time, and wrapped an arm around Panam's shoulder. V was relieved that was Panam was here. She was like the sister V had never had, and V held her memories with Pan laying awake, shit-faced and laughing underneath the stars in the Badlands as close to her heart as she did with her memories of Jackie. True friendship was hard to find, and Panam was truly an angel.

A hot-tempered angel with a love for cold beer and fast cars, but an angel never the less.

“Pan! I didn't think you'd make it, 's good to see you.”

Panam laughed, her brown eyes sparkling with warmth, and V earned herself a nudge in her side from Panam's elbow. V chuckled.

“V, I hope you are joking. It's your birthday, of course I'd be here, you're family.”

Panam took a swig of the Brosephs she had in hand and gave V a sly smile as she leaned her back against the bar.

“We managed to finish our... business, right on time.”

V's arched a brow at Panam's choice of words, and was about to question why she looked like the cat who got the cream when she saw, to her utter surprise, Mitch and Kerry walking through the bar towards them. They were talking in serious tones, glancing every now and again at V, but the noise in the bar was too loud for V to hear them.

Now this should be interesting, V thought as she removed her arm from around Panam and reached for her vodka lemonade, taking a sip, her curiosity piqued. Since when the fuck were Mitch and Kerry chooms?

Both of the men broke out into shit-eating grins when they locked eyes on V. Kerry sauntered right over to V, clapping her on the shoulder.

“V! Kid, glad you made it.”

He beamed at her, and shouted to the barman for another round of drinks. Him and Panam shared a knowing look as V readjusted her position, leaning so that her back was against the bar so that she could look at both of them.

“So, now that you're here, I have a preem birthday surprise for you, V. It's gonna blow your fucking socks off, I'm tellin' ya.”

Kerry settled beside her, taking a drink from the freshly poured round on the bar. He winked before downing it in one go, as her face turned to look of confusion.

V looked between all three of them, taking another sip of her drink.

“I'm guessin' all of you were involved in this surprise then, huh?”

Panam and Mitch smiled brightly, Mitch chuckling through a freshly lit cigarette. Before they could answer, Kerry banged down his now empty glass onto the bar, and clapped his hands together, looking at the stage. V followed his gaze and noticed that the music had stopped, and a group of stage hands were moving equipment around. Her eyes went wide as she noticed Nancy setting up her keyboard on the stage, followed shortly by Denny.

“Ker, what the fuck...” She looked at him. “You guys are playin' me a birthday gig?”

Ker laughed, clapping her on the shoulder again as he started walking backwards away into the crowd, heading towards backstage.

“You'll see V, like I said, it's gonna be FUCKIN' preem!”

With another wink and a finger pointed at her, he was gone.

V shook her head, smiling, feeling flattered and happy. She guessed she'd had a bigger impact on the people in her life than she previously thought. Hearing some of Samurai's music live on her birthday? It was going to be bittersweet.

Still, she didn't understand Mitch's and Panam's involvement in this... V fidgeted with her leather skirt and twisted a strand of her long dark hair pensively whilst she waited for the show to start.

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

Kerry practically skipped backstage, slamming the doors wide open.

“Everythin' ready to go?” He asked, as he jumped in place, rolling his shoulders and wrists.

“Ready to rock and fuckin' roll.”

Ker looked over to the man sat in the corner, who outwardly appeared cocky and relaxed, cigarette in hand and legs up and resting on an amp.

But Ker knew better, far better. The nervous strum of metal fingers along the sideboard that hadn't ceased since they arrived and the empty pack of cigarettes laying on the floor told Kerry all he needed to know.

He gave his old friend a wide smile and smacked him on the shoulder.

“She's gonna fuckin' love it, Johnny. Now stop brooding, lets' go knock her dead.”

#spoilers #cyberpunk2077 #JohnnySilverhand #Female V #Johnny Silverhand / Female V #Canon? I don't know her #a liiiiitle bit of angst #Panam is the best damn friend and I love her so much #fic #eventual smut - you have been warned

24 notes · View notes

kareofbears · 4 years

Text

desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

#fic tag #akiryu #pegoryu #fanfic #writing #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #mine #desperate as that sounds #and yeah man thats a jon bellion song #fic

39 notes · View notes

ericsonclan · 4 years

Text

His Miracle

Summary: After getting separated from Clementine and A.J. at the bridge, Louis tries to return to find them again, praying they're still alive.

Read on A03:

Louis felt like he was going to be sick. His legs were shaky underneath him as he made his way through the forest, hoping by the time he reached Ericson Clementine and A.J. would already be there. How could he be so stupid, jumping that fence and getting himself separated from them? Now Clementine was limping through the woods on an injured leg with a whole herd of walkers scattered throughout the forest. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had to focus on making it past the walkers and back to the school so that if Clementine wasn’t there he could turn right around, hopefully with help, and bring her and A.J. back.

It was a long, convoluted route home to the school. With James’ herd and the sound of the Delta ship’s explosion drawing even more walkers, the forest was infested on a level that Louis had never seen before. He had no weapons. Chairles and his dagger had been confiscated when the Delta forced him and A.J. into that cell. Both were now probably at the bottom of the river with the rest of the wreckage. With nothing to defend himself but a rock he’d picked up along the way, Louis skirted round most walkers, kicking out knees and bashing skulls only when absolutely necessary. The fleeting thought to cover himself in walker guts again appeared but was quickly dismissed. Even if he smelled like them, Louis was sure the walkers would notice one that they’d assumed to be their own sprinting through the woods.

After a long, arduous trek back, Louis reached the gates of Ericson. Willy was on guard duty, standing watch. He waved excitedly when he saw Louis. “Ruby, Aasim! Louis made it back!” He leapt down from his perch, opening the gate for Louis.

Aasim was immediately before him, his expression tense. “Louis, you made it! Where are the others: Clem, A.J., Tenn?”

Tenn. The name left a bitter taste of bile upon Louis’ tongue as he thought of the boy he’d seen torn to shreds before his very eyes. He couldn’t tell Aasim yet. If he thought on it too long, he might fall apart. He needed to be strong now. Louis shook his head. “I got separated from Clem and A.J. back at the bridge. They haven’t made it back yet?”

Aasim shook his head. “No, we haven’t seen them. Willy’s been on watch this whole time.

“Then I’m going back out there. I need a weapon. Are there any spare knives I can borrow?”

“Louis, it’s getting dark out. You won’t be able to see anything-”

“Then I’ll take a torch!” Louis snapped, his voice tight. “Clem’s hurt! She and A.J won’t make it out there alone! I have to go, so somebody give me a knife or something I can use to defend myself.

I have to go!” Louis felt a hand tugging his arm. He looked over to see Willy holding up a hunting knife.

“Here. It was Mitch’s. He’d want you to use it,” Willy’s eyes were downcast, the emotion still thick in his voice.

Taking the knife, Louis wrapped an arm around Willy, pulling him in to place a quick kiss on the top of his head. They weren’t losing any more kids today. He would make sure of that.

“I’ll come too,” Aasim said, his gaze steady. “Just let me tell Ruby and then we can be on our way,”

“Thank you,”

“Of course,” With that Aasim made his way back toward the dorms. Louis wondered if he should go with him so he could check on how Omar and Violet were doing. Seeing Violet’s eyes though… Louis wasn’t sure if he could take that right now. Ruby had told him Vi’s eyes weren’t infected. That was all he needed to know right now. Aasim returned with a torch and his bow and arrows and they were off. Night had fallen and the light cast by the torch Louis carried only illuminated the path a few feet in front of them. They walked in silence, both keeping their eyes and ears out for walkers.

“We should head to the bridge by the shortest route possible,” Aasim spoke softly. “If we don’t find them by the time we reach the bridge, then we double back and cover a wider area until we do,”

Louis nodded.

“Clem and A.J. are smart. They’ve survived outside our walls far better than we ever could,”

Louis nodded again, silent.

Aasim paused before speaking again. “When you said you got separated from Clem and A.J., you didn’t mention Tenn. Is he…?”

Their eyes met, telling Aasim all he needed to know.

They turned away from each other, facing forward. Aasim roughly cleared his throat. “We’ll find them, even if it takes us all night,”

Louis glanced over, seeing the glassiness of Aasim’s eyes. He was barely holding it together either. But he was here. He wasn’t giving up. There was still hope.

As they made their way through the forest, Louis’ thoughts turned to Clementine. She’d walked into his life at one of its darkest points. Finding out the truth of what Marlon had done to the twins and realizing how his own indifference had helped lead to his best friend’s despair were truths that haunted Louis. And the way he had lashed out at Clem and A.J. for what A.J. had done, kicking them out of the school and almost getting both of them killed… but Clementine had forgiven him. After all the mistakes he’d made, she stood by him and accepted his apology.

Then their relationship had become something more, full of a feeling Louis thought he’d never get to experience once the world came to an end. He loved Clementine. He loved everything she was and everything she believed he could be. He wanted to be by her side for as long as she would let him. He wouldn’t lose her now, not after everything they had been through. He’d bring her home, no matter what.

During the walk to the bridge, both boys watched and hoped for Clementine and A.J. to appear at any moment. Instead all they came across were walkers. They avoided as many as they could, only drawing their weapons when all other alternatives had left them. They didn’t want the sounds of a scuffle to bring a herd down upon them or to do the same to Clementine and A.J. if they were nearby. As they got closer and closer to the bridge, Louis’ heart tightened. The tension settled deep within his gut, an immovable knot. By the time they reached the point where they’d been separated, Louis felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Clem and A.J. hadn’t made it back to the school. They weren’t on the trail either. Then where were they? Aasim noticed Louis’ state. He placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. “Breathe, Louis. We’ve only started our search. Now you said you got separated when you hopped over that fence. Where was the last place you saw Clem and A.J. heading?”

“They…” Louis shook his head, struggling to clear it. “They had to fall back. The road ahead was swarmed with walkers and the bridge wasn’t any better,”

“They must have climbed then,” Aasim scanned the nearby cliffs. “Come on. We’ll see if we can find any trail they might have left. They combed the rocks at the base of the cliff, searching for some sort of confirmation of Aasim’s theory.

“There!” Louis pointed to a small trail of blood leading up the rocks. The boys quickly scaled the cliff, finding more blood when they got to the top. Louis could feel his hand quivering, but he couldn’t stop it. That cut Minnie gave Clem had been so deep. What if she hadn’t been able to walk any further? Had she found someplace to hide? Was A.J. still with her or had she sent him on ahead?

“This is a good sign,” Aasim’s voice was steady. “We know they made it up here, away from all those walkers. And they kept moving. Now we just need to catch up,” Louis gestured to some indentations in the sandy dirt beside the blood spatter. “Clem had Minnie’s axe with her. Maybe she was using it as some sort of crutch,” The markings went a few feet out from the blood spatter, towards the woods.

“It’s our best bet. We’ll keep our search wide to make sure we don’t miss them,” Venturing into the forest together, the boys kept their senses sharp, hoping for any sort of sign. The flickering torchlight gave the lowest branches of the trees an eerie glow. They walked in silence, the only sounds being those made by the forest life. It took Louis a few minutes to realize why that was odd.

“Aasim,”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no walkers up here. The entire way down to the bridge we were practically swarmed by them. Why is this area so quiet?”

Aasim shrugged. “Could be they’ve cleared out, headed somewhere else,”

Louis shook his head. “Walkers don’t move that fast, not unless they have something guiding them. I don’t know if that guy James even made it out alive though,”

“I guess we’ll just have to count it as a blessing,”

Louis felt unsure. If Clementine and A.J. were nearby, there should be walkers too. The trail of Clementine’s blood alone should be drawing them in for the hunt. Unless there was nothing left to hunt. Images flashed through Louis’ mind: the kids they’d lost when the walkers first attacked the school, Brody’s corpse they’d had to pull up from the basement, Tenn’s boots, the only thing visible as walkers descended upon him… what if Clem and A.J. really were gone? Louis could feel his heart racing. He forced down the lump in his throat roughly, trying to breathe steadily. He didn’t know that for sure. It wasn’t true, not until he saw it.

After a few minutes more they found themselves approaching a clearing where a derelict barn stood. Even in the faint light cast by the moon, they could see walker corpses scattered around it. Louis ran forward, Aasim close behind. Maybe Clementine and A.J. had been able to hide in there. The barn doors were open though. Rushing in, his knife drawn, Louis looked round the barn. There were more dead walkers inside. All the stalls along the sides of the barn had been shut and a small fire had been made in the center of the room, trails of smoke still wisping up in the air from the smoldering remains. That was when Louis saw it. A bloody leg lying in a pile of blood beside the hay bales. That was Clementine’s boot. It was Clem’s leg. An unnatural wail left Louis’ mouth. His legs gave out from under him, his shoulders heaving as he vomited, collapsing against the ground.

“Holy fuck,” Aasim whispered, his voice wavering as he stepped toward the leg. Cautiously he knelt beside it, peeling back the badly mangled boot. “She was bitten,”

The worst had happened. Louis had left Clementine alone and the thing he feared most had befallen her. Louis’ head pounded painfully as he felt his shoulders tighten again, vomiting once more. She’d been in here with A.J., injured, afraid, her life fading before her very eyes. Louis’ eyes ventured toward the leg once more. There was so much blood. The barn reeked of it, the dirt soaking it up beneath them.

Aasim walked over, picking up the torch from where it had fallen out of Louis’ grasp onto the ground. His eyes scanned their surroundings. “Neither of them are here anymore. They must have left,” He looked down to Louis, grabbing his arm. “Louis, do you hear me? They left. Clementine must have survived the amputation,”

He was right. There wasn’t a body here. A.J. was nowhere to be seen. He must have gotten Clementine out. They were still trying to get back to the school. But how could they possibly have kept moving? Did Clementine stay awake as her leg was hewed off? There was no way A.J. could have carried her. Looking back toward the hay bales, Louis noticed something. Forcing himself to his feet, he hurried over to where the leg lay in the pool of blood. There was another trail here. Something had been pushed through the blood, leaving faint streaks along the ground. A.J. must have found something he could push Clementine along in. They could still find them. Grabbing the torch from Aasim, Louis hurried out of the building and back into the night.

“Louis, what-”

“I found a trail! They made it out of here!” Louis stopped short as the trail did, barely outside of the barn. There was no more blood. Where had they gone? They had to find them; Clementine didn’t have much time. If that amputation had worked, if it had stopped the bite from taking over, she still needed medical aid. They needed to get her back to Ruby. Looking round the open yard, Louis’ head turned in the direction of the school. They didn’t have time to waste searching the entire perimeter. He had to hope that A.J. had headed off in the right direction. Louis ran.

He could hear the sound of Aasim’s breathing close behind him. Hopefully whatever little luck they’d been given would hold and there were no walkers nearby. Their steps were barely illuminated by the torchlight as they ran, dodging roots and debris along the way. Louis’ could feel his throat burning from his vomit. His head was still pounding, feeling thick and woozy. None of that mattered. He just had to hold out long enough to find Clementine and A.J. and bring them home safe.

That was when they spotted them. A small figure wobbled as he walked, unsteadily pushing a large wheelbarrow in front of him. A single leg dangled from the wheelbarrow.

“A.J.!” Louis’ tone was a whispered hiss as he ran forward.

The boy turned round in surprise, his eyes widening. “Louis!” His face immediately fell as he looked back towards the wheelbarrow. “Clem got bit. We need to get her back to the school,”

Louis circled the wheelbarrow, his heart breaking at the sight before him. Clementine lay crumpled within the wheelbarrow, the place where her left leg had been now nothing but a bloody stump below the knee. Her skin was a sickly grey shade, paler than Louis had ever seen her. Immediately he handed the torch off to A.J. and lifted Clementine into his arms, cradling her close. A small whimper came from Clementine though she didn’t stir.

“Clem, can you hear me? It’s Louis. I’ve got you. A.J.’s here too and Aasim. We’re safe. And we’re going to get you home safe too,” Louis’ voice shook as he spoke despite his best efforts. “Just hold on, OK? Stay with us. We’re going home,” He turned to look back at Aasim. “We have to keep running. We can’t slow down,”

Aasim nodded, looking down at A.J. “You’re going to have to get onto my back. Then I’ll hand you the torch. Louis can’t hold it while he’s carrying Clementine and I need both my hands for my bow and arrows. Can you hold it steady while we run?”

A.J. nodded, determination in his eyes. “You can count on me,”

After a few moments to get themselves sorted out they were off once more, running through the forest in the dead of night. Clementine moaned faintly in Louis’ arms. He prayed for her sake she stayed asleep. He couldn’t imagine how much pain she must be in. Holding her close to his chest, he kept his steps as steady as possible, his breathing heavy. Aasim and A.J. were directly in front of him, lighting the way. They were still a few kilometers from the school. Clementine just needed to hold out till then. Then everything would be OK. She had to be OK.

Louis could feel a wetness spreading against him. Clementine’s leg was still bleeding. The acrid tang of burnt flesh told him what the fire in the barn had been for. A.J. must have attempted to cauterize Clementine’s leg. It hadn’t completely closed the wound though. Would the smell draw more walkers to them? Then they’d kill them all. He’d rip them apart with his bare hands if he needed to.

Their luck didn’t hold out for very long. Three walkers suddenly emerged from the forest and the group was forced to stop dead in their tracks. Aasim was their only defense. Silently, he drew his bow and let an arrow fly. His shot was true. That was one. Repositioning himself as quietly as possible, he took out the other. The third seemed to catch on to his location, approaching them quickly. Dropping his bow, Aasim drew a knife and brained the walker after a quick struggle. A.J. jumped down, helping Aasim collect his arrows, then returned to his back and they were off once more. The journey continued like this: running whenever possible, avoiding and circling as many walkers as they could and relying on Aasim’s bow as a last resort. Every minute was agonizing to Louis. He could feel Clementine stirring in his arms and worried she’d wake before they reached Ericson gates. He couldn’t run with her writhing in agony. She needed to stay asleep. Frantically, he hummed a few notes under his breath, hoping the tune would calm her. He chose the first song that came to mind: the song he had written for her. Clementine’s eyes remained shut. That was all Louis could ask for.

When they finally reached the school, they could see Ruby and Willy waiting worriedly by the gate. Willy opened the gate as soon as he saw them. They ran through quickly, all breathing heavily. Ruby’s eyes were large as she saw Clementine. “What in God’s name happened out there?”

“She was bit,” Aasim answered quickly. “A.J. performed the amputation,”

“You can save her, right?” A.J. asked, his voice quivering. “You saved us before after the car crash,”

Ruby’s eyes softened. “I’ll try my very best,” She looked up to Louis. “Bring her inside. We’ll put her in her room. Aasim, I’ll need your help gathering the necessary medical supplies.

Aasim nodded, hurrying off with Ruby without another word.

Louis could feel his adrenaline flagging. All that had been keeping him going was the thought of getting Clementine behind Ericson’s walls. Being here now and realizing how much was yet to be done… Louis shook his head. C’mon, you can do this. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. He could still run. He’d run as far as Clem needed to keep her safe.

By the time he reached the room, the door was already open. Omar was waiting inside, lighting candles upon the dresser. For a moment Louis thought to Omar’s own injury, wondering how he was holding up. Should he be walking on that leg? Setting those thoughts aside for now, Louis laid Clementine down gently upon her bed. Heavy breathing beside him caused Louis to look down at A.J. He must have had to sprint to keep up.

There was a sound of tape ripping. Omar had taken one of Clementine’s wrist and was taping it to the bed post.

“What are you doing?” Louis asked, his voice wavering.

“It’s just a precaution. Same thing we did after the car crash. We-” Omar’s words were cut short as the duct tape clattered to the ground. He looked to Louis in surprise, noticing how heavily he was breathing.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Clem’s going to be fine. She just needs Ruby’s help,”

“Louis, I-”

“No!” Louis cried, kicking the duct tape across the room. “She’s not going to turn! She hasn’t yet! I got her back! She’s home!”

Omar stayed silent, looking sadly at Louis. A.J. stood by Clementine’s bedside, holding onto her hand.

Louis kept shaking his head, his eyes trained on the floor. “She’s home. I got her back. She won’t… I brought her home,”

“Alright, y’all clear out! I need the room,” Ruby marched in, her arms full of medical supplies. “Omar, take Louis and A.J. out of here. Then go find Willy and holler at him that he don’t need to be outside on watch anymore. He’ll be more useful up here. We need all hands on deck. Only Aasim and I are allowed in this room,”

Omar nodded, gently placing a hand on A.J.’s shoulder. “We’ll be back. But right now the best thing we can do for Clementine is let Ruby help her,”

A.J. looked over to Ruby in uncertainty. Something he saw within her eyes must have been enough to convince him. Walking over to Louis, the child took his hand. “Clem told me once that she has magic. At least she said she might. I bet if she does, she’ll use it now to stay safe,”

Louis’ grip on A.J.’s hand tightened. Clementine was strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be. If anyone could survive this, it was her. As Omar gently guided the pair out of the room, Louis looked back one last time to get a glimpse of Clementine’s face. He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her, deathly pale, brow furrowed in pain. The door closed behind them. Louis felt his heart break.

“You two can rest in my room,” Omar offered, motioning down the hallway.

Louis noticed he was walking with a limp. Would that be permanent? They’d all already lost so much. Couldn’t one goddamn thing go right? They passed Violet’s room and Louis glanced at the door for a second before looking away. He hoped she was asleep. The burns on her face had been so severe and that milky eye… would she ever see again?

Omar’s door creaked as it opened. Omar escorted them in before moving back toward the door himself. “Sleep if you like. I’ll be back as soon as I find Willy,” He looked like he might want to say something more, but he didn’t speak another word. The room was silent once he had left.

Slowly, Louis made his way over to the right bunk, his feet feeling like lead. He sat down upon it heavily, the springs in the mattress squeaking before adjusting to the weight. A.J. had hopped onto the opposite bed, kicking his legs with nervous energy. Louis wished he had something comforting to tell him, but he had nothing. All he could think about now was the pounding in his head and the sour taste of vomit in his mouth. How long had it been since he’d thrown up? It felt like days ago. Louis let his head fall upon the pillow, closing his eyes wearily This whole time he’d felt like he was on the verge of tears, but now he felt nothing, only emptiness and bone deep exhaustion.

“Louis?” A.J.’s voice was small.

“Yeah?”

“If you’re gonna sleep, can I sit by you? It’ll help me guard you better,”

Even now, that’s what he’s thinking about? What a funny kid. Louis patted the spot in front of him, his eyes still closed. “Sure. Hop up, little man,” He heard A.J. hop down from the bed and then hop onto his with a little grunt, leaning back against him. The room was quiet save for their breathing. Louis could feel himself drifting off, his mind a bleary haze.

“We ran out of bullets,”

“What?”

“In the barn. We ran out of bullets so I…” A.J. paused. “I-” He was cut short when he felt Louis’ hand on his.

“Try to sleep, OK, kiddo? We need to be ready for when Clem wakes up,”

That seemed to calm him. Slowly, A.J. lay down as well. Louis scooted back to give him more space though he could still feel A.J.’s afro lightly tickling his nose. Though Louis’ mind was still racing, his body was shutting down. He found himself slipping into a deep, fretful sleep, one from which he couldn’t escape.

He woke with a start, the whisper of a nightmare still drifting through his mind. His eyes felt swollen. That was when the first coherent thought hit Louis’ mind. Clem got bit. It still didn’t feel real. None of that hellish night before did. His first human kill, Violet crawling onto the beach with those burns on her face, Minnie’s screams as she was eaten alive by the herd she had drawn in… there were enough nightmares in that one night to haunt Louis for the rest of his life.

Careful not to wake A.J., Louis got up from the bed. From the light drifting through Omar’s window, it looked like he had at least gotten a few hours sleep. Before he could think further, the door opened and Omar walked in, holding two bowls within his hands.

“Good, you’re up. Then you can eat this while it’s hot,”

“I don’t-”

“You’re not leaving this room until you do,”

Louis met Omar’s level gaze. He was fairly sure he could take his friend in a fight, but they both knew he wouldn’t. Silently, Louis took the bowl and raised it to his lips. Omar had made some sort of light broth. It was tasty. Some part of Louis hated that he could appreciate it. There were more important things right now. He needed to see Clementine, make sure she had made it through the night. Then he would visit Violet. Hopefully she was willing to take visitors. He knew how much she shut down when she was in pain.

“Clementine’s alive,”

Louis’ eyes shot up at Omar’s words.

Omar nodded. “You heard me right. You can ask Ruby about it later. She’s sleeping now,”

Louis briefly wondered if Omar had been able to get any sleep at all. He’d have to check in on that later. He moved to stride forward, but once more Omar blocked his path.

“One more thing. Give me your coat. It needs to be washed,”

Louis looked down at the side of his coat. It was caked in blood, stiff and dry. Clementine’s blood. Louis felt sick at the thought. Not wanting to waste another second, he shrugged off his coat and let it fall to the floor. Then he strode out of Omar’s room and down to Clementine’s. He opened her door softly, afraid he might disturb her. She was still so pale. Clementine lay upon the bed, her wrist taped to the bedpost. She looked so tiny. She’d always been small, but she’d always had the presence to fill a room, at least in Louis’ eyes. Now, looking at her lying broken and frail, she looked smaller than ever. Slowly Louis walked to her bedside, taking the chair that had been pulled up beside it. Ruby must have stayed awake for as long as she could after the surgery, watching for complications. In all truth, it was a miracle Clementine had made it this long. Surviving a rushed amputation by a 6 six year old in a barn… how was she still breathing?

But she is. She’s still here, Louis reached out to brush a stray hair back from Clementine’s face. She moaned in her sleep, stirring for a moment before falling still. That brought the tears back to Louis’ eyes. His own part done, he could finally weep. Louis felt his shoulders shaking as he hunched over, his sobs loud and rough. “I’m sorry, Clem,” he whispered, choking on his own tears. “I never should have jumped that fence. I’m such a fucking idiot,” Unable to hold her closest hand, he reached for the further one, striving to stroke some circulation back into her pale flesh. “I’m never leaving you again. I swear. Not for the rest of our lives,” He pressed her hand to his lips, remembering the last kiss they shared on the beach. He wished he kissed her again when they reunited in the woods. He wanted to kiss her so many more times.

The door opened and Willy stepped in, holding a pitcher of water. He looked at Louis with uncertainty and sadness. “Omar told me to bring by this water in case you needed any. Or for Clem when she wakes up,”

“Thanks,” Louis whispered. He watched Willy in silence as he walked over to the dresser and placed the pitcher down. “Hey, do you know… is Violet up yet?”

Willy shook his head. “No, not yet. She was screaming a lot last night when Ruby cleaned her eyes. I think it wore her out,” His eyes widened as he realized he might have shared too much. “I mean-”

“It’s OK. Could you tell me when she wakes?”

Willy nodded.

“Thanks, buddy. For everything,”

Willy gave a small smile before hurrying out of the room.

Unsure what to do with himself but wait, Louis settled in. He’d sit here as long as he needed to. He’d be here when Clementine woke up.

The day wore on slowly. Morning turned to afternoon. The water in the pitcher stood untouched until Omar came by and forced Louis to drink some. He also told Louis that Violet was awake. Leaving Clementine temporarily in Omar’s care, Louis hurried to his friend’s side. They didn’t say much. Violet was unwilling to talk. Louis didn’t press her. However, when he turned to leave, she grabbed the corner of his shirt roughly, clinging onto him. She needed him to stay, even if she couldn’t stay it. So Louis did. He sat beside her, his hand gently holding hers until the pain and weariness caused Violet to fall asleep once more. Louis hoped her dreams were peaceful.

Returning to Clementine, Louis found A.J. awake and beside her, determined to keep watch. Louis went to find another chair. They would keep watch together. On his way back, he had another idea. With one final trip, he came back to the room, rolling in the gramophone from the music room.

A.J.’s eyes were large. “Are we gonna have a hootenanny right now?”

“Not quite, little man. We’re going to play some more calming music for now. I figure Clem might enjoy it even if she’s asleep,”

“People can hear stuff if they’re asleep?” A.J. asked in confusion.

“I like to think so,” Louis pulled out one of his favorite records, a piano piece called Liebestraum. He’d found a German-English dictionary a few years back amongst the library books since he was curious to know what the name meant. It translated to Love Dream. Louis had always found it to be a beautiful title. He hoped now that it would serve its purpose, reaching Clementine’s dreams and showing her all the things he couldn’t tell her now. It would be his voice until she was awake.

Afternoon turned into evening. Ruby had dropped by a few times, checking on Clementine before bustling off to care for Violet or Omar. Each time she was done, she told them the same thing: Clementine was stable, but it would likely be a while still before she woke. Louis and A.J. simply nodded and continued their vigil. They’d wait as long as need be. Food was delivered to them and absent-mindedly consumed. Aasim dropped off Louis’ coat which Omar had cleaned and dried. Louis shrugged it back on. It was good to have something familiar back. He still missed Chairles. Never mind that, he could make another. He was pretty sure he still knew where the table leg he got the first Chairles from was. Night came round, and after a time, Louis realized it would be best if he could convince A.J. to go to bed. It’s what Clementine would want.

A.J. was incredulous. “What if I’m asleep and Clem wakes up? She needs me! I’m not leaving!”

Louis motioned toward the bed on the opposite side of the room. “You’ll sleep in here tonight. You’ll be ten feet away from Clem. If she so much as sneezes, you’ll know. Trust me,”

A.J. looked over at his bed uncertainly then back at Louis. “Are you gonna be over there too?”

Louis was surprised at the request, though a part of him felt touched. “Sure, little dude. If that’s what you want,” He followed A.J. over to the bed, sitting on the corner of it as A.J. crawled on top.

The kid looked so tiny when he was curled up on top of his covers, his head resting upon the pillow. He was looking up at Louis with questioning eyes, still clearly wondering if he’d made the right choice. “Do you think Clementine is having good dreams?”

Louis nodded. “I do, buddy. She’s got us right here and some lovely ambient music playing in the background. I bet she’s just waiting till she’s all rested up so she can help out as much as possible when she wakes up,” He could tell A.J.’s mind was still too worried to rest. “Hey, how about I tell you a story?”

“What about?”

“Ever hear of Jack and the beanstalk?”

“What’s a beanstalk?”

“I’ll explain in the story,” Louis cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack who had a cow who he loved very much…”

The story went on for some time. Louis really got into the story, making all the voices, mimicking some of the events and delivering every line with great aplomb. He wasn’t sure where the energy was coming from. Perhaps the simple act of escaping somewhere within his mind was cathartic in itself. A.J. enjoyed the story, listening animatedly as Jack climbed the beanstalk and met the giants. Eventually his eyes grew heavy though and yawns began to overtake him. He fell asleep in the midst of the chase down the beanstalk. Louis paused with a smile, glad to see the story had worked. It seemed to have calmed his mind as well. After looking over one more time to see that Clementine was still breathing, he let his head rest against the bedpost and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Louis woke with the dawn, his heart bursting with hope that Clementine might already be awake. It took only a moment to see that she wasn’t. No matter, he’d wait once more. After choosing a record to play, Louis settled on one of the chairs beside her bed, ready to wait the whole day out if need be. It didn’t take long for A.J. to wake as well, scrambling into the chair beside him.

The day began to take on a similar rhythm to the last. Ruby dropped by to check on Clementine, and Willy brought food and water again. Aasim and Omar came by as well to see how things were going. Realizing how absent he’d been these last two days, Louis offered that he could help if something needed doing, but they immediately dismissed the offer. They’d worry about that once Clementine was awake. When, not if. She was going to wake up.

Violet dropped by as well. Louis was glad to see her up and moving about. She couldn’t make out much, but she stood beside Clementine’s bedside, asking questions and nodding along to the answers before wishing them a good night and slipping away. Louis was glad to hear her concern. The fight she and Clementine had within that cell had sounded brutal. They’d both suffered enough. He hoped Violet’s visit meant any remaining ill will had been set aside. They all needed each other, now more than ever.

Another night had come, and Clementine still hadn’t woken. Louis settled down with A.J. on the opposite bunk, hoping to distract the kid with more bedtime stories. After A.J. heard the last part of Jack and the beanstalk he’d missed, Louis started in on the Three Billy Goats Gruff. A.J. seemed to enjoy all the voices Louis made for the story, especially the mean old troll’s. He fell asleep gradually, just as the story was wrapping up. This time, once Louis knew he was asleep, he slipped away from A.J.’s side. Going back to Clementine, he sat down beside her once more, taking her hand in his. Hoping that some human contact might bring her back. Please, Clementine… please. I need you. We all do. Louis fell asleep with his head on the dresser, still holding her hand.

He was awoken by the sound of birds twittering outside the window. Groggily, Louis stirred, immediately feeling the crick in his neck from sleeping at such an odd angle. Something was brushing against his hand too. What was he touching?...

Clementine! Louis’ eyes flew open, searching her face. She was moving! Her fingers wriggled in his hand and he could see her eyelashes fluttering. Was she going to open her eyes? Louis watched Clementine’s face, breathless, waiting.

She opened them slowly, as though no longer used to sunlight. Clementine looked up in confusion, blinking. “Louis?” Her voice came out hoarsely.

“Clem! Oh, thank God!” Louis surged forward, capturing her lips in a quick kiss, clinging to her shoulders as his own began to shake with emotion. “You’re back. I knew you’d come back,”

Clementine’s hand came up slowly, circling Louis’ back. “I’m not dead?”

“No! You’re alive!” Louis realized her wrist was still duct taped to the bed post and quickly moved to free it. “You’re here and so is A.J. and-”

“A.J.!” Clementine exclaimed, bolting upright in bed. Her eyes shot over to the opposite side of the room, seeing him still sleeping peacefully. Her shoulders immediately relaxed. “We made it?”

Louis nodded. “You both did. A.J. saved your life. He…” He paused, realizing Clementine’s legs were still covered by the blankets. Would telling Clementine her leg was gone somehow trigger the pain her surprise seemed to be holding at bay?

“He cut it off, didn’t he? My leg,” Clementine looked at Louis, her gaze steady.

Louis weakly nodded.

“I remember the first hit, when the ax fell. Not much after that. I must have blacked out,”

“He rolled you out of there in a wheelbarrow, all by himself! That kid is astounding,”

“All the way back? We were still so far away!”

“Well, Aasim and I found the two of you part of the way back. Then I carried you. It was faster that way,”

“You carried me?” Clementine’s voice was soft.

Louis shyly smiled, feeling his face heat up. That was the first time he’d held Clementine. Not that the circumstances were in any way what he had wanted, but… “I did,”

“My hero,” Clementine murmured. Her hand reached out the smallest distance, intertwining her fingers with his.

Louis wasn’t sure if another kiss was appropriate right now, but damnit, he was going to go for it. Leaning forward, his lips met Clementine’s, his heart doing a flip when the tiniest moan left her. As he pulled back, Louis’ face fell though. “Back at the bridge when I jumped the fence, I never should have done that. It was stupid, and-”

“Louis, no,” Clementine’s other hand came to rest atop his. “You got help. You came back. You saved us. I owe you my life,” She glanced over at A.J. with a warm smile. “You and that little goofball over there,”

Louis’ smile was warm, driving back the tears that were still stinging his eyes. He should tell the others, let them know the good news. But he wanted just one moment more with Clementine, one second where it was just the two of them.

“Clem?” Never mind that. A.J. was awake. “Clem!” A.J. immediately launched himself onto Clementine’s bed, thankfully avoiding her injured leg as he wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Clementine hugged him back as tightly as she could, her eyes misting up. “Hi there, goofball,”

Louis smiled at the two of them chatting animatedly before his eyes widened in shock as Clementine pulled on his arm, drawing him out of the chair so he’d sit beside them on the bed. He quickly got pulled into the discussion, joking and laughing as his mind raced to take it all in. Clementine was alive. She hadn’t died. She hadn’t turned. She was here and the Delta was gone. They were safe and she was home. Louis watched Clementine, smiling as that same stray curl came to rest against her cheek. Clementine was here to stay. Against all odds, she’d made it.

She truly was his miracle.

#twdg #fanfic #clouis #twdg louis #twdg aj #angst #twdg clementine #twdg violet #twdg aasim #twdg omar #angst with a happy ending

37 notes · View notes

lifebeginsbyleaving · 4 years

Text

Accidental Amnesia Amnesty

Hello, this is for sterek bingo 2020. I have so many other ideas planned and a few other prompts written so I’m excited to finally be posting them!!! I used the tags mistaken identity and full shift werewolves.(I also used fake relationship, but forgot to say.) So this fic changes some of canon, but everything before the cop car scene and everything after the end of the third episode is canon. I tried to make it fit as well as I could, but this is my first time sticking to canon so closely so I might've missed something. Thanks for reading!!!

All he had to do was not run into Melissa. Easy as pie.

"Stiles?"

Shit.

He spun around with a grin as his jacket flapped in his hand. "Hey Mels bells!"

She squinted in confusion at him. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles scratched his arm and scrambled for an answer. "Well as you know, Scott and I are very close. Arguably the closest. Best friends and all. I was just wondering if you've seen him around?"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "You came here, to my work, to ask where Scott is?"

Stiles took a moment to consider. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, absolutely."

"And you didn't think to, I don't know, call first? Or check the house where Scott would most likely be? And last I knew, usually always is right about now?"

"You know, I should've. I guess it just slipped my mind." Stiles tried to look not guilty as he discreetly hid his bloodied hands and jacket behind himself.

She looked at him for a moment. "Right. Okay, you are going to stay right here and I'm going to call your dad."

Stiles startled. "Oh that's not-"

"Save it mister. I don't know what you're up to, but I have patients to deal with so I can't figure it out. Sit down."

Fuck. Stiles went and sat down to await his doom.

His dad was going to be so pissed. Lately Stiles had been butting into cases a lot. Every time he mentioned something he figured out he saw how much stress he was causing his father by him not staying out of it, but there was this buzzing. This feeling that never left him, not even in sleep, that something was coming. Something big and changing. Something that would hurt the ones he loved if he didn't figure it out. With his very recently widened world view to involve the supernatural, it added even more weight to the feeling. It was this indescribable itch at the back of his mind that only seemed scratched when he was figuring out his father's cases before he could get hurt. But he couldn't explain any of that to his father, so he just played it off as the nosey kid.

His father tried multiple times to keep him away from it, and it worked once his father had been reported. Some jackass told his superiors that Stiles was poking around some old files and now he had a lady from the FBI questioning his every move.

Stiles knew he should just let it go, let it all blow over, but there was something about this. This case. This week. This feeling.

This feeling wasn't just him fearing for his life. This feeling wasn't him wondering if he'd make it through his high school years. This feeling wasn't him worrying about his dad getting shot stopping some punk knocking over a liquor store. This feeling he had didn't even go away once Scott was bit, it wasn't that simple. This feeling wasn't just about his best friend suddenly becoming a creature of the night. This feeling wasn't just one simple thing. This feeling was everything.

This feeling told him that everything before now was what was leading up to something, and everything after would never be the same again. This was Scott and werewolves and there was something about Derek. Something he couldn't figure out. This feeling told him that it was important, it was all important. This feeling told him no matter what, he had to figure it out.

Stiles didn't like not knowing, not being able to trust what he saw.

Looking down at his hands and the blood caked on them he wasn't sure he could trust what he just saw. He didn't know if he could trust the memory because everything just happened so fast.

One moment he was in trouble with his father because he found yet another crime scene, the other half of the body, and the next his father's boss was questioning both of them. Soon enough he slipped away and into the unobserved police car to speak with Derek Hale, well more like accuse. Then he was being pulled back out by his father and getting yelled at while the sheriff looked nervously over at the woman raising an eyebrow and looking more and more sure. His father told Scott to stay so he could talk to him, most likely express disappointment.

He heard chatter as he walked back to his car about how they had a more nailed down date of death, it had been a day earlier than they thought.

Soon enough, he was starting Roscoe and watching the patrol car taking Derek away, along with all the answers. The buzzing, the feeling, was back. The next second he was shifting into gear and following behind the car.

The next hour happened in the blink of an eye.

He was thinking about how the girl/wolf was buried then, there was a big, snarling blur and the patrol car was shoved off the passing bridge.

Stiles swerved to the shoulder before the bridge.

By the time he was looking down to the bottom of the stream, Derek was dragged from the car.

By- by something Stiles couldn't believe. Scott being a werewolf was one thing. That- that hulking scarred beast with hollow red eyes was another.

Stiles stood frozen in the flash of movements as the monster bashed Derek's head against a rock and raked his claws down him as he fought. His hands trembled as the monster's claws dug into the back of Derek's neck and Derek's arms went slack, he stopped grappling with the beast's terrible paws.

It's giant jaws cracked open and it spoke, horrifying Stiles further.

"Forget or you will die like her. You will die like your sister."

Stiles' mind raced to the bat in his Jeep.

He scrambled to get it and in doing so he brushed the string of flowers he had taken from around the body.

A truly stupid idea flashed in his mind as he remembered an article about wolfsbane.

He saw the flower wrapped rock sail and for once his aim was good enough.

It landed with a similar thud as the stone in Stiles' belly as the beast looked down at it then directly into his eyes.

It tilted it's head and sniffed the air, and still he knew this fear, this pants pissing fear, wasn't the feeling he was dreading.

In the blink of an eye he couldn't see the glowing red anymore, but he could still see the stare even as he clamped his eyelids shut.

When he opened them again he saw red, trembling red. The overhead system called out for a doctor of some sort, but all he heard was the sickening crack of skull against rock.

Over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Cra-

Stiles bolted up and ran.

He threw open the bathroom door and began scrubbing at the blood coloring the swirling cold water. No matter how hard he cleaned his hands it seemed more blood kept pouring onto them.

Two men walked in while talking.

"-Hale is in stable condition."

Stiles was brought out of his thoughts and cycle of seeing himself fail at holding the blood inside Derek's body.

"I don't know how he made it. That kid is a miracle. Some of the injuries weren't as bad as originally thought. Gave the EMTs a real scare with all the blood, I heard. And he's not even in the ER any more, he's in 309. You should see th-"

Stiles was out the door in an instant.

He knew exactly where the room was.

As he went by Melissa, thankfully distracted by an urgent patient, he hid until he could dart around the corner.

He tried to as calmly as possible, run to the room.

Once outside he barged right in. His father wouldn't be here yet, but there wasn't any time to waste. He would be soon.

Looking at the pale man in front of him, everything stood at a stand still. He stared at him and thought for what felt like hours.

What if he woke up? What was he supposed to say? 'Hey, you know I hope you don't hold it against me that I accused you of murder.'

Oh God. Stiles had a fear inducing idea.

If the murdered woman was a werewolf, what if she was murdered by that beast? And Derek was a werewolf too, did that mean- the murdered lady was Derek's sister, and the one the beast was talking about? Stiles accused him of murdering his sister?!

Holy shit.

He so didn't kill his sister. He wasn't the alpha. He wasn't the threat. Or maybe he was. If he was a werewolf he could still be a threat.

Stiles studied him.

Right then he didn't look like a threat. He didn't look scary. Hell, he didn't even look like a werewolf. He looked- broken. And scared, and hurt. And my god Stiles had never seen someone look so sad in the peacefulness of sleep.

It made him wonder if he laid his hand over his if it would comfort him, if he was the type of sad that meant he was just lonely. He looked at Derek and remembered the papers and stories.

His own face twisted in sorrow.

He looked at his prone healing form and knew.

Derek was the type of sad that knew loss. He knew it better than he knew himself to the point that who he was might as well have been added to the body count of people lost to him.

Stiles ached for the man he, up until moments ago, thought and accused of murdering his own sister.

He came closer and stood next to his bed.

The feeling felt wrapped up with Derek some how. Like he was vital to figuring it all out.

He lifted a hand to offer comfort.

The monitors beeped faster and Stiles looked over at them.

When he went to check Derek's face his eyes were open, and glowing electric blue.

"Jesus!" Stiles ripped his hand back.

He looked confused, and alert. "Where am I?"

"Warn a guy!"

"Where am I?"

Stiles huffed. "Where do you think genius? The hospital."

"Why am I here?" He still looked confused, but more calm.

Stiles frowned. "You don't remember the accident? Or the-"

"I was in an accident? Were you there?" Derek's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "You were there right? You held my head and cried and cursed the ambulance for taking so long."

He paused.

"Who are you?"

Stiles was taken aback. He squinted. "Derek?"

Derek looked at him with a contemplative look, then looked at the tubes going into him with concern. "Who's Derek?"

Stiles didn't have time to process his shock as the door swung open and his father marched in.

"Stiles?!" His father looked furious. "Mieczysław Genim Stilinski!"

Derek's eyes went wide.

Stiles quickly grabbed his hands to cover his claws.

His father took a brief pause at the hand holding, but quickly schooled his face.

Stiles winced. "Hi Dad?" He felt Derek's claws retract.

His dad turned to the woman with him.

"Save it Sheriff. I see the complaints about your gross disregard for procedure by involving your son aren't unfounded. Pray, do tell me there is a reasonable explanation why your own son is in the room with a murder suspect? After the body, the second half that is, I only needed one more reason for your review. It seems now I have one."

Stiles' wide eyes quickly became hard with determination.

Derek looked at him and immediately knew what ever came out of his mouth was going not going to end well, despite knowing him for less than three minutes.

"I have a perfectly reasonable explanation."

His father covered his face with his hand and his shoulders raised to tense against the incoming response.

"Derek is my boyfriend."

Stiles' face was filled with conviction, but the the other three surrounding him went wide with shock.

The sheriff's hand fell from his face as he gaped at his son, but soon enough he turned to Derek. Gone from his gaze was the confusion, now all that was there was a murderous edge as he stared right into Derek's soul.

Derek swallowed and turned to Stiles. "We are?"

The confusion was back ten fold.

"Stiles if this is one of your tricks or schem-"

"Derek doesn't remember anything." Stiles blurted.

All eyes turned to Derek.

That wasn't true. He remembered waking to pain and someone holding him in their lap. Repeating over and over, 'You're going to be okay. We're okay.' He remembered shiny brown eyes and moles. He remembered the hammering of a heart that some how calmed his own as he faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered holding a hand as his body felt like it had been drained of too much to recover from. He remembered thinking he had to hold on, or maybe he was told that.

He remembered having an anchor to reach for.

He remembered all of that but he kept quiet.

The sheriff once again turned to him. "Is that right?"

Derek tried to clear his dry throat. "Which part, sir?"

He fixed him with a hard glare. "Both."

Derek looked to Stiles and considered. He didn't remember anything, so he didn't know if what he said was true. Stiles turned away from his father to look into his eyes and he gave him a very meaningful look as squeezed his hand. Like, 'Hey, agree with everything I say please!'

He looked at him and he couldn't muster up love. When he had looked at the sheriff he felt fear and respect, but looking at Stiles there was no love or even adoration. There was something there though, it felt like he trusted him. He didn't know if it was his face or his eyes, or maybe even that the only memories he had included him.

He turned back to answer honestly. "I don't remember anything before I woke up, and I don't know if we are together. I didn't even know my own name before he told it to me."

The woman spoke up. "I'm sorry wait a second, weren't you the one that found the body. Then you reported Mr. Hale? You reported your own boyfriend?"

Stiles looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Wouldn't you report your boyfriend if you thought he murdered a lady? I was raised by a cop, not a monster."

His dad came farther into the room and showed obvious unease and pointed looks towards where their hands were still intertwined. "So why are you here now? If Derek really did murder that lady-" He gave Stiles a firm, but consoling look. "I will find out. And he will go to prison."

Stiles felt Derek tense, so Stiles tightened his grip. "He didn't. He didn't kill her."

The FBI agent gave him a cutting look.

His father pushed out a breath as he shook his head. "Kid, you're killin me here. You just told me he did. We literally just came from the crime scene you found and told us he did it."

Stiles set his shoulders. "And now I'm untelling you. Some new information came to light."

Stiles saw the glint of light that every once and awhile reflected off of his father's badge and into his eyes. "New information? Who's your source?"

"I am."

His father gave him a dubious look. "We can hardly take the word of a teenager over evidence. You, yourself found the other half of the body on his property! Stiles you're not dumb, look at the evidence. You might think you care for him and want to protect him, but we can't disregard evidence on the word of a significant other." It looked like every time he had to refer to their relationship, it pained him. "Much less an easily manipulated teenager with an older boyfriend." He gave a pointed, murderous look to Derek. "Which will be dealt with."

Derek turned to Stiles and now that he was more focused he could see the obvious youth that the curiosity in his eyes had hid before.

Stiles stood considering for a moment, then he let go of Derek's hand to face his father. "I know he didn't do it because on the way out I heard Ella say the time of death was a day earlier than you thought."

His father once again looked disappointed. "Stiles what does tha-"

"And he was with me that day."

The FBI agent looked skeptical. "The entire day?"

Stiles addressed her. "I went to school that Thursday, but he saw me right away after. And the medical examiner, Ella, said she didn't die till later at night anyway."

His father once again looked harsh and his face darkened. "How late did he stay?"

Stiles closed his eyes and hoped he wasn't pulling Derek out of the frying pan and into the fire. He looked into his father's eyes. "I knew you'd get off at four, so he left at three. So there was no way he could've killed her."

Derek looked shocked at the new information.

Stiles nervously went to scratch at his head with his still shaking hands and in doing so, brought his flannel away from his body.

The homicidal look his father had melted instantly into one of worry. "Is that blood?!"

Stiles looked down to his t-shirt where a spot of drying blood was causing his shirt to stick to his body. Stiles quickly pulled his hand back down so his flannel would cover it once again.

His father rapidly approached him and ripped his flannel away to inspect the large stain.

Stiles pushed his hands away. "Dad I'm fine."

He quickly grabbed Stiles' hands and looked at the blood still wedged under his nails and he pulled the almost dripping jacket from him.

He looked up with wide frightened teary eyes. "Where? Where does it hurt son?" His voice was commanding despite how it shook.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head and grabbed Stiles' arm.

He looked at the FBI agent as he walked past. "Watch the suspect." He thought to himself, 'So I can murder him later.'

Stiles was protesting being drug behind, but his father simply yelled out a very loud, distraught, "Melissa!"

Stiles saw her look to them right before he was shoved into a different room.

"Sit."

"I'm f-"

His eyes were wild. "If you say you're fine one more God damn time, I'm gonna lose it Stiles! Why the hell are you covered in blood with shaking hands then?"

Melissa came in with a concerned look. "What is it John?"

John just pointed where Stiles was standing near the bed before speaking, "Fix him." He backed away to give her space.

"I'm alright, you don't have to worry."

She turned to Stiles with a puzzling look, but as she scanned him she caught sight of the blood and her eyes went wide just like his father's had. "Oh my god!"

"It's okay."

She ripped his shirt up and away and in her panic she smoothed her bare hand through the blood. She searched for a moment longer and then turned to John. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"I told you I wa-"

His father started to pace and gesture as he talked, "No. No, you fix him! You find what's wrong. He's lying, or hiding it. I don't care if you have to strip him naked like you used to for bath time with Scott! You find what's wrong with my boy! I don't know what's wrong. He hid it from me, I didn't know he was hurting!" He looked at her with a mixture of desperation and concern. "He's covered in blood and he needs to be okay. You need to take my boy and make him okay! My boy is hurt Melissa." His voice broke as he said the last sentence.

Stiles grabbed Melissa's arm and looked into her eyes. "Go back to work, I have to talk with him. I promise you I'm fine."

She nodded, already knowing he was, and left.

"Dad."

His father came near as the door closed and once again his shirt was pulled up.

Stiles placed a hand on top of his. "It's not my blood."

His father looked at him bewildered.

Stiles sighed. "I followed the police car. I was there when the accident happened." He hesitated for a moment. "I didn't see the driver or the truck's plate number, I just saw a big black blur hit the car off the bridge from the side." He took some solace in the fact that at least that part was true. "They drove away as soon as they realized they hit something."

His dad still had a crease of worry in his forehead.

Stiles thought quickly on his feet as he pieced together his story. "I heard Ella on the way out and figured out that it wasn't Derek. So I followed the car to get everything straightened out at the station. But then the accident happened. I went down to check on him and there was just so much. It's not my blood, it's- it's his. I tried- I got there as soon as I could." Stiles thought about the blood pouring and how the only reason Derek was even in that car was because of him and his eyes began to tear up. "There was so much blood dad. It was everywhere. I- I tried- I thought he would die-" His tears started to spill. "God I was so worried he would die in my arms- that he would die and it would be my fault."

His dad shook his head, but he just continued, "I turned him in for something he didn't do. I put him in that car. I-I - I would've been the reason he died." Stiles' words began to blur together as he spoke faster. "I would've been the one that killed him. His blood would've be- God the blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere. The blood." Stiles' ears started to ring as he looked down at his hands and felt the sticky warmth he had washed off. "The blood dad. The blood dad. The blood. The blood." Stiles couldn't breathe.

His father pulled him into his arms. "Calm down son. Breathe. In and out. He's fine. You hear me? Derek is fine. You're fine too, you're here. With me. It wasn't your fault. You're gonna be okay. Just breathe for me boy."

"I- I can't. T-T-the blood. The b-b-blood dad."

His father pulled back out of the tight hug and gripped his hands. "Look Stiles. Look at your hands. There's no more blood here."

Stiles tried to focus on his hands and his father kissed his knuckles with teary eyes. "There's no blood Stiles. He's okay."

Stiles focused on his father's hands entwined with his and he tried to calm his breaths.

A few moments passed as he struggled with his lungs.

He nodded to his father and they both exhaled loudly.

Stiles crumpled in exhaustion and his father guided him to the floor as he pulled him back into himself. The sheriff rested his back against the nightstand and Stiles settled in between his legs.

The sheriff hooked Stiles' head underneath his chin. "We're going to have to talk about you and Derek, but right now I just want to know you're safe and out of trouble."

His voice was a soft mumble, "You can't protect me forever. I know it's your job, but sometimes I'm going to do things you don't like. That you think are too risky, but it's just me living my life."

The sheriff closed his eyes and felt a bone deep sorrow. "God, your mom would know what to do, because all I want to do is go into that room and shoot him. FBI be damned, he- he touched my boy."

Stiles internally freaked out and shook his head. He couldn't get Derek off a murder charge by setting him up for sexual assault of a minor charge when he hadn't done either. "No. He never- we never- Derek would never do that. We kept in touch long distance and when he came here that night was the only night I was able to see him. We just played video games and talked. I've never even kissed him."

The sheriff let out a relieved breath. "That still doesn't change the fact that he is twenty-three and you are sixteen." He could tell Stiles was about to say something. He thought about how upset Stiles got when he mentioned Derek being hurt. "But, I can tell how much you care about him. I am in no way condoning this. I am not okay with you being together, at all. I want this relationship to stop immediately. But I do see your care, so I won't kill him."

He tried for a joke, but they both knew if he ever found out that anything had happened he wouldn't hesitate.

"Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment longer.

Stiles worried at his lip and curled his fingers into his uniform. "Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

He decided not to look up at him. "Do you care? I mean I know you've said- but like sometimes it's different when it happens you know?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked with fondness.

"Do you care that he's..."

The sheriff pulled him tighter to his chest. "No. Don't you ever think that. If Derek was a nice boy your age and not a murder suspect I'd be inviting him to Sunday dinner. I don't care what your sexuality is- hell me and Melissa have a bet going of when you and Scott will get married. I don't care if you date boys instead."

Stiles relaxed slightly. "And if I want to date girls too?"

"I love you Stiles. Who you love won't change that." His father kissed the top of his head.

"I love you too pops."

They both basked in the comfort of the other for a few more moments.

"Alright we should get up. You have a lacrosse game later and I'll have plenty of paperwork I'm sure. Plus we have to take your statement, I don't know if it will clear his name though. His amnesia complicates things. Besides my back is getting sore."

"Will you need help getting up old man?"

His father pinched his side. "Oh it's like that is it?"

"Sorry I couldn't hear you over the creaking of your bones."

Stiles jumped up and away as his father swatted at him. The sheriff held out a hand and Stiles helped him up with a smile.

Stiles went for the door.

"There's still something you're keeping from me."

His heart sank.

"I don't know if it has to do with Derek or his sister or what, but Stiles you don't have to lie to me. No matter how grown you get it will always be my job, and my highest priority to protect you. I could never lose you."

Stiles nodded his head. "Yeah I know that Dad. I could never lose you either."

Stiles turned the knob and they walked out.

With all the questions his father and the FBI agent had for him Stiles was only able to catch back up with Scott right before the game.

He had decided not to tell Scott anything so he could focus on the game more. He decided it was a problem for another time. Now he needed to make sure Scott didn't shift or kill anybody.

The game went smoothly, well as smoothly as it could've. Stiles was just glad everybody was alive and Mr. Argent hadn't shot Scott.

Everything was great till his father got a call. Ella determined that the cause of death for Derek's sister was an animal attack. Stiles was relieved he was let go, but he knew he had to let Scott know. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Stiles didn't have enough information, and he definitely didn't want to get Scott involved in something he didn't know enough about.

He only told Scott that Derek was let go and he tried to push it from his mind.

He felt bad not taking to Derek after he had lost all of his memories and Stiles had claimed to be in a relationship, but his father was serious. If he so much as heard Stiles and Derek were in the same room as each other he would arrest him.

It was as forgotten as it could be, until Scott had a dream about killing Allison.

Scott wondered about maybe having Derek teach him and with his current state Stiles had to shut it down.

It only worked until Scott saw the man from the bus. Stiles tried to convince him to keep on like normal, to not do anything drastic till they could find out more. He convinced him to not cancel his, now group date, with Allison and to act normal.

But Stiles knew his best friend. If there was a chance Scott would hurt Allison and that Derek could help him not, he would take it.

That's why Stiles was disobeying direct orders from his father and parking Roscoe on the abandoned Hale property. He exhaled heavily. Best to get this over with.

The Jeep door creaked and slammed behind himself.

Derek quickly came out of the front door with a small smile already on his face.

"Scott is going to be here after he gets off work and he can't find out that you don't know shit."

Derek's eyebrows fell, but his lips quirked into a small amused smile. "Are you always this blunt and blatantly disrespectful of social decorum?"

He didn't even stop to be offended or consider. "Yes. We need to make a plan. He can under no circumstances know."

Derek easily jumped on board. "What does that mean? What can't he know?"

"He can't know that you don't know stuff. We went over this, keep up. We don't have all night." Stiles fidgeted.

Derek nodded. "Okay." He opened his door more. "Then you better come in and explain some things. Like who Scott is."

Stiles looked distrustful and unease set his shoulders.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just you well, you you is way more grumpy usually."

Derek frowned. "I'm grumpy to my boyfriend?"

Stiles' eyes widened for a second. He had forgotten about that for a moment. "You're grumpy to pretty much everybody, dude." They walked inside the house and he shut the door behind them.

Derek took a second to think as Stiles checked out the house.

Stiles spoke suddenly, "Oh! Yeah, don't forget to do that with Scott. Be grumpy, slightly mean, and entirely intimidating. Like you eat infants for breakfast."

"I act like I eat infants for breakfast?" He looked displeased.

Stiles didn't think before answering consolingly, "But in a hot way."

Derek opened his mouth and then shut it. He avoided eye contact and Stiles swore his cheeks turned light pink.

Stiles realized what he had said and cursed internally for when Derek remembered everything. That reminded him. He should ask how he's been, but first he had to figure everything with Scott out.

He told him everything that had happened so far. The game, Derek trying to help Scott, them accusing him of murdering his sister, assuring him he didn't kill his sister, the hunters, about Allison and her father, why Scott couldn't know about them dating, and especially about Scott's dream. Everything he thought Scott might talk about he covered.

Stiles took a few deep breaths after his info dump. "Any questions?"

Derek looked uncertain. "What happened with the accident?"

Stiles had left that part out, he didn't know if he could talk about it. Derek smelled the fear, and anxiety.

"We don't have to talk about it if you can't."

Stiles took a deep breath. "Nah dude, it's fine. I was following the patrol car when it hit you. This big- well I still don't really know what it was, but it was terrifying. It dragged you out of the car and- and it hit your head." Stiles' face looked confused. "Then it dug it's claws into the back of your neck. It-it looked up at me and-"

As Derek watched Stiles talk he got a distant look in his eyes. Derek reached out a hand and held onto his shoulder.

Stiles' eyes immediately snapped to his and there was a flash of fear before it melted to appreciation. Stiles took in a few breaths and continued more steadily, "It looked up at me after I threw a rock wrapped in wolfsbane at it. It said, 'Forget or you'll die like your sister.' I think it took your memories somehow. Whatever that beast was took them for a reason. You must've known something that it didn't want you too. I think whatever it took will be important. And it will be important to keeping Scott safe, so I'll help you try to remember. I think it had something to do with your sister. I think that thing hurt her and doesn't want you to figure out why. But even that doesn't make complete sense, why not kill you?"

Stiles was looking at the other side of the room with searching eyes that Derek could almost look through to see the cogs moving. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in consideration and pulled Derek's focus with it.

He released his shiny red lip and Derek looked back to his eyes dazed. "And this thing with Scott. His dream. The person that attacked the bus driver wasn't Scott, no matter what happened to him I know he would never. Well, I hope. I don't think it was you, but I guess I don't know that for sure. However, this beast, the thing from the accident could've done it. It's the most likely suspect, but I still don't see the motive. Or why Scott is involved. Maybe this thing knew he was a werewolf and wanted something. There's just too many blanks right now. We need more evidence. We need to figure out what, or even more terrifying, who the beast is. We need to find out what it wants with your memories and wanted from your sister and what it wants with Scott. All the while keeping the police, namely my dad, oblivious. Also Scott and you both have to stay away from hunters and not provoke them in anyway until we can figure out more. And Allison. We can't let Scott hurt her. I know my best friend, he would never kill her, but he did attack me, so may-"

Derek looked alarmed. "He attacked you?!"

"Yeah. It was soon after he was bitten though. He's gotten a bit better. I don't think he would attack Allison, but I won't bet her life on it. You need to help him."

Derek furrowed his brows. "How? I don't remember anything, much less have any of the answers to things."

Stiles started to pace. "Okay. You have better control than Scott. Even now. How are you doing it? Scott said it's getting more difficult the closer it gets to the full moon so how are you doing it?"

Derek looked down at his fingers. He had noticed that he had been feeling the urge to shift more. "I don't know how to control it really. It just happens. When I feel my claws about to come out I just stop."

Stiles made a frustrated noise. "Yes, but how do you stop?"

Derek thought about it. In the time since the accident whenever he's felt pain or been stressed trying to remember he's felt the urge to lose control, but he didn't. Derek focused trying to figure out what it was. He didn't know it just happened. He would calm down. He looked up to Stiles and opened his mouth to tell him that, but he stopped.

Stiles.

He closed his mouth again. Whenever he was stressed about the accident he thought about Stiles holding him. Whenever he didn't know what to do he wondered about Stiles and what he was doing. Stiles was his anchor.

He didn't know where that word came from, but it was the only one that seemed right. Maybe he was remembering it.

Stiles let out a breath. "Nevermind, I'll try and figure it out. Let's focus on something else. How are you? Have you remembered anything else?"

Stiles was still pacing.

He had tried to remember. To remember about his sister, or who might have hurt her. He tried to remember anything about his life, but when he looked himself up he stared at the picture from the article about the fire and felt nothing personal looking at the happy large family. He felt sorry for them, he felt sad at the injustice of so many dying, but they didn't seem like his family. He couldn't remember any of their names or anything about them. He tried to remember about other things too. Like where he was before he came here. If he had a job that was wondering where he was. He had a phone, but he couldn't remember his password. Thankfully his computer was unlocked, but all he discovered from that was his porn taste and that he watched a sad amount of Netflix.

The more he found out about his past he wondered if he wanted to remember. If he wanted to remember all of that pain, the misery, the loss. Even his own boyfriend said he was grumpy. Maybe this was a chance to start over, to be better. The old Derek didn't seem like he was doing any good for anyone. Maybe he could. He could protect Stiles, he could help Scott.

"Not really. But would that even be so bad?" He tried to joke lightly, but Stiles whirled on him.

If Derek didn't remember he wouldn't be able to teach Scott and that couldn't happen. Not to mention if Derek didn't remember what the beast took it could kill all three of them and the hunters would have even more of a shot at it. Besides, it was Derek's life. He couldn't forget that. "Yes, Derek! Yes it would be! You are the only person that knows anything about this shit! There are multiple people and things out there trying to kill my best friend and I! Scott needs to learn control or he could hurt Allison and that would destroy him! We need you. We need you to remember."

Derek still didn't look convinced and Stiles already felt guilty for what he was about to do. "I need you." Stiles came closer and grabbed his hand. "I need you to come back to me so you can keep me safe. To keep Scott safe." Stiles stressed about using his emotions like this and about when Derek remembered.

Derek's face softened. "You're right. I'll try my best. You don't have to worry." Derek pulled him into his arms. "I'll keep you safe." Derek picked up on the panic from the man. "What's wrong?"

Stiles allowed himself one more moment to freak out before pulling himself together. "Nothing." He relaxed and practically slumped against Derek as strong arms held him. Stiles gripped the man back just as fiercely. He didn't know the last time anyone had hugged him, but Stiles wanted to at least give him this one.

When they finally pulled back Stiles got back on track. "I've been looking up memory information and I found some things we could try. If you're up for it."

"Yeah we can try it." Derek led them to a soot covered green couch, that despite it's ratty appearance, was quite comfortable.

They both sat and faced each other while they went through multiple exercises, but all he got was vague notions or feelings and that he liked vanilla ice cream.

"I don't think this is working." Derek was frustrated. He put a hand to his aching head.

Stiles caught the movement. "Are you still healing?"

"Yeah. Most of the bruising and broken bones from the crash healed, but there are still some slashes and the back of my neck still hurts."

Stiles frowned in concentration. "I'll look into that too. Do you want to try another exercise? We have time for one more before Scott gets off work and I have to leave."

Derek nodded.

Stiles pulled his lip into his mouth again and Derek was so distracted by the spit coated red he almost didn't realize it was moving.

"Oh! I've got one. I think this one might work, but you really have to concentrate."

Derek nodded distractedly.

"We can try and remember your family." Stiles looked around the room and amended. "From before, before everything happened. Focus on the house. On remembering what it looked like before. What it sounded like. It was probably pretty loud with so many people in one house. Maybe the floor boards creaked." Stiles took in his blank expression. "Close your eyes and remember it."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You really think that will work?"

Stiles looked exasperated.

"I'll look stupid just having my eyes closed."

Stiles rolled his before closing them. "There? Will that work?"

Derek closed his eyes. "Fine."

Stiles continued, "Picture a spring day, like now. The old leaves would've been dull crisp brown on the ground as new ones grew. You could hear the wind blowing through the trees."

Stiles was good at this. Derek could feel the wind on his face almost.

"People moving around in the house. Your mother maybe making something, your favorite cookies. You could feel the cool wooden floor underneath your feet. The house feels pleasantly warm. The sun peeking through the trees and streaming into the windows." Derek gripped the edge of the dirt covered velvety couch and tried to remember while listening to the sound of his voice. Stiles' heartbeat was another soothing sound as he tried to lead him through the scene. "You could smell the cookies baking along with the smell of your house, your home." Derek inhaled trying to get a whiff of it, but all he got was smoke and the enticing scent of Stiles. "Picture your family gathered around the table and eating all of your favorite foods. Tasting them all." Stiles swallowed and licked his lips before continuing. Derek wondered what he tasted like. "Everyone around the table. You're happy and surrounded by your family. Do you see it Derek?"

He didn't. He didn't see any of what Stiles described. He opened his eyes and looked at Stiles' face and closed eyes.

What was going on around him faded out and he got flashes of the woods. He was walking when he saw two people. Stiles. 'This is private property,' he heard his voice say. But that was all, he was already back in front of Stiles. "Yeah I see it."

Stiles' eyes snapped open immediately with glee in them. "Really?! You do? You remembered something?"

Derek nodded at him with a smile. "Thanks."

"Awesome!"

This was the first thing he had fully remembered and he wanted more. "Stiles, how did we meet?"

He was thrown for a second. "What? Why do you want to know that?"

"I just figured, might as well start with some memories that someone else knows."

This was a bad idea. Stiles didn't actually have any memories with him and lying could fuck up him remembering.

"The doc even said to listen to stories to help me remember, and I don't have anyone else that knows me."

Stiles' gut twisted in guilt. "I'm sorry."

Derek just shrugged. "Not your fault. I just want to hear something about myself, something about you. How did we meet?"

Stiles floundered for a moment. He didn't know what to do, but he supposed he better lie. He decided to try to stay close to the truth. "Your sister and you came home to visit. You found me on your property and basically told me to get lost. But I'm persistent and I don't really know, I guess we just kept bumping into each other. And when it was time for you to leave you gave me your phone number. We haven't been dating long. You didn't want to date someone so young, but I wore you down." Stiles winked at him and tried to seem confident.

"Oh." Derek sounded surprised.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just thought it would've been the other way around."

Stiles laughed. "You thought you would've been the one to chase me?"

Derek looked confused. "Yes?"

Stiles stopped laughing. "Wait, really? Why?"

Derek lifted an eyebrow. "I must've told you, you are exactly my type." He looked through his porn, sue him, and put two and two together and figured it was because he pictured Stiles. But then he found some with women and realized that was just what he liked.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. He was, sex on legs leather jacket wearing wet dream of a bad boy, Derek Hale's type?!

"Why do you look so surprised? We must've talked about it. The disheveled hair. The wide brown eyes. The moles. And fuck God, those lips." Derek stared down at his lips and Stiles licked them nervously. "You are beautiful."

Stiles swallowed and Derek lifted a hand to cup his cheek. He brushed a thumb along blushing cheeks. "I don't know how I didn't move back here immediately to be here. With you."

Stiles' heart was hammering. "Beacon Hills is quite boring. You'd get the man of your dreams, but at what cost? We don't even have a hot topic."

Derek laughed deeply and it made Stiles take a deep breath. "See, you're so funny. You're perfect. God, I could stare into your eyes for days."

Stiles tried to joke again. "What? I thought you said my lips were great. If you're so soon to forget all about them I won't believe you."

Derek smiled. He brushed his thumb along his bottom lip and Stiles held his breath. "Oh believe me, I could never forget these."

"Ironic considering you forgot ev-" Derek leaned in and Stiles cut his own words off before Derek even touched his lips.

Fuck. Derek was kissing him. He was kissing Derek. Derek couldn't remember anything and he was kissing him because he thought they were boyfriends. Stiles was kissing an amnesiac that he convinced was dating him. God, this was all so much like Overboard. Stiles tried to focus. Derek was kissing him, yup that was a thing that was still happening. He looked at Derek's face scrunched in concentration. He nipped at Stiles' lip and he realized he wanted him to kiss him back. God he didn't know what to do! It would hurt him if he didn't. But he didn't want to kiss him because he lied. Derek was insistent and as soon as his tongue swiped Stiles' bottom lip he made up his mind.

Stiles relaxed and closed his eyes. He cautiously started to kiss him back. Derek took that as encouragement. He pushed Stiles back to lean against a pillow and put his head on the armrest. The new angle was weird. Stiles lifted an arm to tangle his fingers in the hair on the back of Derek's head to adjust the angle. Stiles used his other hand to grip one of the arms Derek was using to brace himself over Stiles. Derek was kissing messy and clumsily. Stiles had the sudden thought that this was sort of Derek's first kiss. He was far from an expert himself, but this was Derek's first. Well, not really, but kind of. Stiles wanted to make it good for him. Stiles licked his bottom lip and Derek was eager for the change. Derek was one hell of a fast learner, or maybe he had enough muscle memory. Gripping onto his bicep Stiles thought, 'Yeah he sure has enough muscles for all sorts of memories.'

Stiles pulled back and gulped in greedy breaths of air. Derek was on his neck instantly. He licked and lightly nipped till he moved to his collarbones. Stiles felt a dull pain. "Are you leaving marks?"

He pulled his mouth back barely long enough to say, "No one will see."

Derek's hand crept up his shirt and Stiles gasped. Oh shit, this had to stop right now. "Derek."

He heard a hum before more kisses were left on his neck.

"Derek we have to stop."

Derek looked up at him confused. "What? Why?"

Stiles tried to get himself under control and breathing. "Because Scott will be here soon. He can't know about any of this, he has too much going on already. I also promised my dad I wouldn't see you. Hell, if he knew I was here he'd shoot both of us. And you're not you right now."

Derek's frown turned into a soft smile. He put and arm between Stiles and the couch and he pulled Stiles into a tight hug as he buried his head into his neck. "I'm so lucky I have you."

Stiles swallowed. "Why?"

Derek pulled back and stared at him with a look Scott sometimes got when talking about Allison. "Because, you're such a great friend. And you're a good son. You're even so loyal that you don't want anything to happen with me because I'm not the man you are dating. God you're amazing. You're the best thing in my life I can tell." Derek paused for a moment before looking appreciative and grateful. "The only good thing."

Stiles didn't know what to say back to that so he was glad when Derek pressed one final chaste kiss to his lips. "If not for everything else I don't know if I'd want to remember. Before you came, I was thinking of making a new life where I could forget all the pain. But I'll remember for you. Just for you Stiles."

Stiles smiled slightly. "I should go. He'll be off soon and it's not that far of a drive."

Derek nodded at him with happy eyes.

He walked him outside to his Jeep and even opened his door. "When can I see you again?"

He asked it so hopefully that the guilt twisted at Stiles' stomach once again. "I don't know. We'll see."

Derek reached through the open window to brush his wrist against Stiles' neck. "Don't let it be long. Please."

Stiles nodded with a tight smile. "Make sure Scott doesn't find out. Act mean remember." Stiles added something at the last second. "Oh and wear the jacket."

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"It's intimidating. And-" Stiles abruptly stopped.

Derek smirked. "And?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "And stupidly hot. But I don't think it will have that effect on Scott. Just wear the jacket."

While speaking with Scott Derek tried to do everything Stiles asked. When Scott wanted to know what happened Derek gave him Stiles' tip for remembering and hoped it would work. He didn't want to be so gruff towards his boyfriend's best friend, but Stiles said he had to act normal. And his normal was apparently being an asshole. He wanted to help Scott, but he also wanted to protect him and Stiles both, so if Stiles said this was best for them he would do it. Seeing Scott's defensive posture concerned him. Hopefully he could make that right. Scott needed to like him.

As soon as Stiles left he tried to figure out how to keep them safe. They needed to stick together. He'd read in one of the books in the house that pack was strongest when it was together and omegas were weak. He needed Scott to be in his pack to protect Stiles and himself.

But first he had to send Scott back to the bus. Scott couldn't hurt anyone or Stiles would be hurt. He needed to teach Scott how to control the shift, because Stiles said it was the best thing to do. He hoped Scott would remember something at the bus.

Stiles got home and let out a breath. He sped all the way back home feeling like the person that almost caught them at the bus was still behind him. He closed his bedroom door with a sigh.

Now Scott thought Derek killed the bus driver. Hell, maybe he did. How much did he really know about Derek? Not much. Maybe the amnesia was just some big ploy to get out of custody. But then why would he kiss Stiles? Why would he lie about that? It didn't feel like Derek would do something like that. Stiles still thought it was this beast thing. But if it was that, Stiles needed to explain that to Scott soon. He was keeping him from the worry and stress so he didn't shift before, but now he might not have a choice. Scott would be safer knowing what is after him. But for tonight Scott could go out on a date and enjoy being a teenager. Stiles would stay up and research everything to keep them safe.

Derek's jaw was set as he brushed the glass off his seat to drive his car over to the gas station vacuum cleaner. He almost lost it when the hunter mentioned his family. He didn't feel the love or know them, but that was a low blow. Derek wanted to punch him just on principle, but then he thought of Stiles and what he said about hunters. He had to think about Stiles' lips on his as the man smirked after smashing his window.

He had looked through some more books after Scott had left and found a notebook. It seemed like his sister, the one that came back, wrote it. I was research on hunters. It said something about trying to figure out what hunters started the fire. Derek wondered if the hunters were the ones that had killed his family, or if they had known. If they were the type to bring innocents into it. If they were the type to kill defenseless humans.

Derek put away the vacuum and sped to the hospital. The bus driver might have seen who it was that attacked him. Or at least have more information about what it was, but he just left with more questions.

Like why the bus driver knew his name.

Stiles stared at the picture on his computer screen in shock and fear. The beast was an alpha.

It was Scott's alpha.

Fuck. He had to talk about this with someone. Scott wasn't picking up, probably still on his date. It would be suspicious if Stiles just showed up and dragged him away.

Every time he would blink he'd see those red eyes. Every shadowy corner seemed to reach out with claws. He'd hear a noise outside and feel like it was coming for him. He needed to calm down, he needed to feel safe.

He crept out of the house careful not to wake his sleeping father.

As he was driving it felt like something was chasing after him through the woods beside him. By the time he pulled up in front of the Hale house he could barely breathe. The feeling of someone behind him just kept getting worse. He saw the Camaro with a busted in window and wondered if something happened to Derek. Just as he was opening the Jeep's door Derek came out still dressed despite the late hour even wearing his jacket.

"What? What is is?!"

Stiles got out of the Jeep and ran. He crashed into Derek's chest and tightly grabbed Derek's jacket.

"What is it? Is someone there? Are you hurt?" Derek's arms circled him and crushed him to his chest. Stiles shook his head against his chest and tried not to cry.

This was all so much. Fuck, his best friend was a werewolf now. The person that bit him wants to use him for power and to kill people. There are hunters after him. Scott made first line, but he didn't. Stiles made out with a guy for the first time. He didn't even like guys. Scott could kill Allison on accident. The alpha could show up and kill any of them at any moment.

Stiles could die. Scott could die. Allison could die. Derek could die. His dad could die. Every one he loves cou-

"Hey listen to me, you aren't breathing. You need to breathe. You need to calm down. I don't see anyone. You're safe. Breathe with me."

Stiles listened to Derek's heartbeat and tried to calm his own. "He was- it felt like- like he was there."

"He's not. I promise you he's not. But I am. I am here with you. And I'll protect you."

They stood there holding each other as Stiles slowed his breathing.

"Let's get you inside. It's a cold night."

Stiles smiled up at him. "Derek your house doesn't have heat. It barely has flooring."

Derek smiled. "Look at you, one moment you think you're dying, the next you're ribbing me. You bounce back fast."

"It's a gift. The panic response of a cat in a bathtub, but the elasticity of a rubber ball."

Derek laughed and guided him to the couch once again.

Derek sat down and leaned against the arm rest. He tried to pull Stiles to sit next to him, but he sat with distance between them.

Derek frowned. "Come here."

Stiles scratched the back of his head. "What happened last time, I don't want t-"

"That's okay. We don't have to do any of that now. Or even ever. I just want to touch you."

Stiles' mouth opened.

"Not like that. I just want to hold you. I can sense you are upset. I don't know there's just something that makes me need to make sure you're okay. To have you close."

Stiles nodded. He scooched closer and Derek moved his legs out of the way.

Stiles was hesitant. "Can I- can we, cuddle? I know it sounds stupid, but-"

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He tensed for being kicked out.

"Get your ass over here and cuddle me."

Stiles smiled and nestled in between his legs. He rested his head on Derek's shoulder and laid sideways. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles.

"You're good at this." Stiles sunk into the comfort of his warmth.

"What? Cuddling? Did you think I wouldn't be?"

"No. Well, yes. With the grr I wear leather and the general don't touch me attitude, also I thought the muscles wouldn't be the best pillow. But surprisingly, you're great at this."

"You're great at this too. You're warm and smell amazing."

For some reason that made Stiles blush. "Thanks big guy."

"Do you want to talk about it or to think about something else?"

Stiles did want to think about something else, but he had to talk about this. "The beast. It's a werewolf. That can do the full shift, which is very rare. That's the whole reason we don't know who it is. Werewolves that can do the full shift are more powerful, but can lose control and not shift back easier. I think it's an alpha. The alpha i-"

"Alpha?"

Stiles lifted his head up to look at Derek. "Yeah, why?"

"She, my sister, in her notebook wrote something about finding the alpha. It was very vague and I didn't understand until now, but that's what she came her for. To find the alpha. It's what got her killed."

Stiles smelled stressed again. "And now it wants Scott. No matter what he thinks, you didn't bite him. You're a beta, if what I read is right you couldn't have. The alpha did. And now it wants Scott in its pack." Stiles looked worriedly at Derek's eyes for a second, before thinking about Scott's safety instead.

Derek laced their fingers together after Stiles started to chew on his bottom lip in worry. "We'll deal with it. We'll make our own pack." Derek kissed his knuckles.

"Scott thinks you're a murderer. And that you bit him."

Derek smiled. "Something tells me you can be persuasive when you want to be. Besides, his best friend is the most important person in my life, he's got to come around some time."

Stiles squirmed and looked away. "Don't say stuff like that."

Derek smiled. "Why not? Does it make you uncomfortable? It doesn't for me. I know next to nothing, except how you make me feel. I woke up scared in the hospital with nothing but you. I had the memory of you holding me, taking care of me. I don't see any reason in not loving you with everything in me when there is so many things I'm unsure of, because you are definitely not one of those things."

Stiles looked at him with tears in his eyes. "No one except my family and Scott has ever spoken to me like that."

"Like what? Certain?"

"Like they could spend their whole life loving me and it would never be enough. Like I matter to them."

"It wouldn't." There was so much adoration in his eyes Stiles had to close his before a tear slipped out.

"Don't say that." The guilt and disgust at having lied to him tore at his insides.

Derek brushed the tear from his cheek. "Why? I told you I am not afraid."

"Because you don't mean it." Derek went to open his mouth, but Stiles continued, "You don't know enough to mean it. You hardly know anything about me. You don't know what our real relationship is like. You don't even know what you like to eat for breakfast. I'm taking advantage of you and I feel awful for it."

Derek shrugged. "I'm legally taking advantage of you."

Stiles scoffed. "Just because we're both doing it doesn't make it right."

Derek considered that. "That's true. This is what makes it right." Derek kissed him gently and Stiles was weak against it.

Stiles pulled back. "I should go. My dad could wake up."

"Or we could kiss some more and then you could go home."

That was a terrible idea. "That's a wonderful idea. Thank you for sharing. And like I always say sharing is caring. We should all be more caring. The world re-" Derek cut him off with a press of lips.

"Oh I'm sorry were you saying something?"

Stiles gripped his shirt and pulled him upwards toward himself. He kissed him in a way that made Derek feel like his brain melted while running his hands through his hair.

Stiles pulled back and admired the view. Derek's best look was definitely dazed and disheveled. "We'll have to figure out the Scott thing later. And the alpha thing. And the hunter thing, I'm assuming that's who smashed you window? How rude." Stiles kissed him again.

"And probably have to keep my dad out of it at some point."

Derek vigorously nodded. "Oh definitely, but not right now." Derek kissed him again.

Stiles got lost in it and soon enough he had a hand up Derek's shirt. He ran his hand up and down his muscles before remembering to be careful for the slashes. The ones he couldn't find. Had Derek healed? Stiles moved his other hand down from Derek's hair to brush along the back of his neck. Derek brushed his thumb along Stiles' hip right as Stiles felt the claw marks heal under his fingertips.

Derek pulled back and Stiles knew instantly from looking into his wide unsure eyes.

Derek remembered everything.

He pushed Stiles back harshly and stood up. "Wh-what. We're not- no. We're not." He furrowed his eyebrows at Stiles. "You lied."

"Derek please, just let me explain!" Stiles scrambled to get up and in the motion his shirt moved to show a mark. A mark Derek had left.

Derek's eyes went wide. "I- I kissed you." Flashes of a convincing woman and feelings of uncertainty but gratitude filled him.

Stiles was hurt by his tone. "Please, sound more horrified if you could."

"You need to leave."

Stiles took a step to get closer, but Derek took one back. He could tell he wasn't going to leave without a reason.

"Stiles this isn't some childish game. You tricked me, you lied."

Stiles looked down. "I know and I'm so fucking sorry for that, but I had to. I had to protect my dad. Then I had to make sure you protected Scott, but then I let it go too far. I'm sorry."

This was all wrong. Stiles wasn't the one who did something wrong. Derek was. "You need to leave and I don't ever want to see you again, unless it has to do with Scott." Derek set a look of certainty and anger he didn't feel into his eyes.

Stiles shook his head and reached for his hand. "I can fix this. Scott needs you, I need y-"

Derek couldn't hold back. "You need to leave! You needed to never come here. You needed to have never met me."

"You're not the bad guy here Derek."

Derek needed to push him away to keep him safe. Because if he was with Derek he would get hurt. Everyone Derek cares about gets hurt. "You're right. You are. You're the pathetic little bastard that tricked me into caring about you because it's the only way anyone ever would. I take back what I said, I take it all back. You aren't a good son. You got your father in trouble because you can't keep your nosey ass out of things too big for you. You are the one that got Scott bit. You took him out to those woods. If the alpha kills him, it'll be on your hands."

Derek was grateful he could hold out until he heard the Jeep rattle away before emptying his stomach outside. There had been screaming and tears, but mostly it was the choking sent of Stiles' hurt that Derek would remember. But after he slammed the Jeep door, gone was everything except the emptiness. He just felt hollow and disgusted at himself. Right before he hurled he thought about how now he was just like her.

Stiles drove home through tears. He was just coming up the stairs as his dad came out of his room.

Shit. Now he had to deal with this.

"What are you doing? I put out a curfew, damn it Stiles! Where were you?"

Stiles thought fast and hoped it was too dark and late for his dad to notice his puffy eyes. "Scott had his first date with Allison. He didn't want to wait to tell me tomorrow."

His dad's face softened. "Kid, one of these days you'll be the death of me. Did it go well?"

"Yeah, they're thinkin a spring wedding and six kids will be enough."

"He's that gone on her?" His dad chuckled.

"Worse." Stiles noticed his father's uniform. "Wait, why are you dressed?"

His dad opened his mouth, but Stiles cut him off. "You know I'll just find out."

His father sighed. "The bus driver. He's dead."

"Someone got into the hospital?"

"No. He succumbed to his wounds."

Stiles nodded. "So you have to go in."

His father kissed his forehead on the way out. "Sleep well kid."

He heard his father's patrol car leave and he waited a few moments before rushing to Scott's.

---

They never talked about Derek losing his memory. Derek went back to his asshole self and Stiles tried not to be hurt by it. All the while Derek felt guilty for being like Kate and Stiles was hurt from Derek's harsh words that he tried to remember weren't true. But for some god damn reason they never stopped trusting each other. He helped him with the bullet without talking about it. He held him up in the pool. Derek protected him from Issac. They even helped each other when they figured out it was his uncle, and that it was the reason he had tried to take Derek's memory. So Peter wouldn't have to kill his nephew. Derek was there for the nogitsune. Stiles saved him from Mexico. There were so many things they made it through together, and yet they could never get over it.

Sometimes he would look at Derek and feel like they were just a moment away from taking about it, but then it would pass and they would forget all over again.

Almost like amnesia.

A.N. So thanks for reading!!! It means a lot and I appreciate it. I don't know if I'm too happy with the end right now, but it is completed. I might do a part two idk yet. Have a great day/night!!!

Carter😊

75 notes · View notes