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thevoidstaredback · 25 days

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Be Thou For The People

A contradictory void of suffocating black and empty white was the last thing Edward wanted to see at any given time. Sure, there was the exception of when he was going to get his and Al's bodies back, but that wasn't now. He was sure he hadn't done anything against explicitly against any Alchemical Laws, nor had he stumbled into any Human Transmutation arrays, so why was he here?

The familiar not-presence of a not-being filled his mind when it spoke to him. "Using your own soul as a Philosopher's Stone to save your life? What a cheat."

"Hey!" Ed protested, barely keeping himself from moving from his spot. Fighting this not-being would only be a waste of the infinitely miniscule amount of time in the void. "It's not cheating. I didn't break any rules. Besides, Alkahestry works kind of like that."

The Truth laughed heartily. "You must take the time to understand that which you do not. Using Alchemy on yourself is a form of Human Transmutation. You're molding your life to go against the flow, however small the alteration might have been. Unless you are not human?"

"Of course I'm human!" Ed shrunk in on himself slightly. Of course he didn't understand Alkahestry, the research for it hadn't been readily accessible to him like his Alchemy resources! And, yes, maybe he knew, in the back of his mind, that transmuting himself was still technically an Alchemical Taboo, but he had thought The Truth would have let him off because he was using his own life as the price! Evidently, that wasn't the case. In his defense, it was either shave off a few years or die via impalement. Neither was a good case, but he'd rather live to keep his promise to his brother than to die in a mineshaft because of a bastard like Kimblee.

"What am I even doing here?" he asked with a huff. It couldn't be anything good.

The Truth's ever present grin fell ever so slightly. "I'd like to cash in a favor with you."

"Excuse me?" he blinked.

The not-being continued, "A favor. You do something for me, I'll do something for you. That kind of deal."

"Hold on," Ed said, uncrossing his arms, "Why do You want me for this? Why not pull some other poor bastard to do Your dirty work?" For that's what this had to be, dirty work. There was nothing else it could be.

This time, The Truth's smile fell noticeably. "Because very few have survived coming into my realm once, let alone several times thereafter."

Another huff. "What's the parameters of this 'favor'?"

It grinned again. "Someone has decided to go and try to cheat Death. I want you to go get him and bring him to face the Gate."

"What do I get out of this?"

"A free pass. You'll be able to recover your brother's body with no repercussions on your end, though I would still like an answer."

Speechless for a moment, Ed recovered soon enough to ask, "What answer?"

"Nothing you need to worry about right now, little alchemist." The Truth's grin split It's face unnaturally in a smile, "What do you say, poor bastard?"

With a long, drawn out, resigned sigh, Edward sat down in front of his Gate. Honestly, he'd brought that taunt upon himself. Also, could he even refuse this? "Alright, fine. What do I gotta do?" It was too good to be true, but he might as well take the chance.

"That's the spirit, little alchemist!" The Truth relaxed, outstretching the leg It'd stolen from Ed and resting Ed's arm on It's other knee, leaving the hand and wrist limp. "I'll be sending you to the other side of the Gate. A world where technology thrived and alchemy died. A world of hidden societies. It is within one of those hidden societies that I want you to be. The man who has tried to defy Death runs as the 'villain', you could say."

When The Truth paused, Edward took that moment to think before speaking. "So, You want me to find this guy on the other side of the Gate and bring him to You?" It was a miracle he wasn't freaking out. Then again, that wouldn't get him anywhere. There's a time and a place, but this was not it. "How long do I have?"

"As long as it takes you. When you're done, you'll end up right where and when I pulled you from."

'Right where...' The sudden realisation of what had happened before he found himself in The Truth's realm was near painful. Quickly, he placed his flesh hand over where he knew he'd been impaled. The last thing he was doing before coming here was healing the wound and trying to stay alive. Pulling his hand away, he found no blood and only a slight numbness in place of pain. "What?"

"Pain doesn't exist here, little alchemist, I thought you would have remembered this fact?" It was true. When he had committed the Taboo, he'd not felt any pain until he was back in his father's study with one less leg. Though, the screaming was mostly shock and panic.

"If I do this," Ed started, "What rules do I have to follow?"

"I'm not sure I quite know what you mean?" It's grin and tone said otherwise.

"I'm not gonna let you throw me into a world knowing jack shit about it or the Laws in place." He knew all too well that he wouldn't actually be able to stop The Truth from doing anything. It was actually pretty generous of it to ask him instead of just dumping him somewhere in the first place. "Knowing my luck, I'd end up breaking one and end up right back here."

The Truth chuckled. "Knowing your luck, little alchemist, you'd knowingly break them even if you did know them." Ed resisted the urge to launch at the not-being. "However, I will tell you. The world follows the same basic Laws of yours. The society you'll be in have some additional ones. All the information you need will be given to you when you go Through." It put It's chin on Edwards right palm, the elbow resting on Its knee. "I would advise you keep your alchemy hidden from a very specific certain people. I'd also advise you to trust very few."

That's not good. The Truth is actually telling him to avoid people? "I don't suppose You'll tell me who to avoid." The grin he was given was answer enough.

"You will know who you can trust," It said.

After a few more moments, Ed nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll do this stupid favor for You, but You have to hold up Your end!"

The Truth's grin was more frightening than it had been before, matching up perfectly with the one It had showed him when he was a child. "Of course I will, poor bastard." The Gate behind Ed opened swiftly and the black arms of the Gatekeepers pulled him back, "Good luck, little alchemist."

Edward knew better than to struggle. Unlike in The Truth's realm, he could feel pain in here. The pain of the Knowledge of another world was unbearable and certainly would have killed him if he hadn't been Through the Gate before. Though, the Knowledge pouring into him was significantly more than the Knowledge that he had paid for before. He couldn't stop the scream that ripped from his throat.

***

The Truth watched as Edward Elric's Gate closed. It had presented the deal as though it were Equivalent, but It knew that wasn't the case. In order for Its end of this little deal to measure up with what the Little Alchemist was doing for it, The Truth would have to give him more knowledge as well as his little brother's body and his arm and leg. The knowledge and memories Edward would acquire on the other side of the Gate would fill out the rest of the Equivalence. If Edward answered The Truth's question correctly then it might be so inclined to add something to the growing stack of Equivalence.

The Truth smiled again. "I wonder how this will play out."

***

Edward didn't know how to feel when he opened his eyes again. On one hand, he was no longer in pain from the Gate, nor was he bleeding out from his most recent injury. He still felt a small twinge of pain when he moved wrong, though. On the other hand, he wasn't in the mineshaft, so that meant his meeting with The Truth hadn't been a dream and he really did have the complete Knowledge of another world in his head. Of course, now was the time to freak out about the entire situation.

Taking deep breaths, he kept his eyes open and focused on what was in front of him. It was a red cushioned bench. Was he on a train? Maybe. "Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron," he muttered slowly, "Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine," It was slow going, but he was calming down. "Neon, Sodium, Magnesium," He tapped the middle finger and thumb on his right hand together. "Aluminum, Silicon," Breath in through the nose, "Phosphorus," He coughed a bit, "Why the hell does it smell like cider? Better question, why the hell does it taste like cider?"

Now calmer, Edward took a better look around the compartment. And wasn't that weird. Trains didn't usually have compartments unless you got first class seating. And, judging on the muffled noise outside the door, he was in common class seating. Odd, but not overly so. On the rack above his head, he found a trunk with his name on it. Pulling it down, setting it on the seat next to him, and opening it it, he found a note on top of a black cloth.

Little Alchemist, Along with the Knowledge you got when you went Through, I've also given you everything you'll need while there. Money is in the leather pouch, your wand is in your pocket with your watch, and your books and other school supplies are all in your trunk with extra clothes and robes. Anything else, you'll have to buy yourself. Have fun as a third year, poor bastard, you'll be surrounded by thirteen year olds.

"How nice of It." Ed folded the note and tucked it away. Then, he ripped it open to re-read it. "The hell does it mean 'school supplies?!" Ed hadn't been to a proper school since before his mom died, so why the hell did The Truth think it was a good idea to send him to one? On top of that, why is he with the thirteen year olds?! He takes it back. The Truth isn't nice at all. Not in the slightest. "If this is You calling me short..." he threatened loosely.

Unfortunately, Ed knew there wasn't really anything he could do aside from take it in stride. He was good at that. So, putting the note away for good, he searched his pockets for his watch and wand. He didn't get far, though, because he finally realised what he was wearing. He still had on his black leather pants, his black elevator boots, and his cropped black jacket, but he was now wearing a white undershirt, a yellow tie, and black dress thing - a robe, his mind supplied - with gold trimming. What the hell? A look into his trunk confirmed the existence of more of these robes, one of which had been directly under the note. At least they were black. Quickly, Ed took off the robe he was wearing, but left the tie. A glance at the emblem - a UK badger - had his mind telling him that it was for the Hufflepuff House, whatever that was.

In his left pocket, he found his State Alchemist watch and his wand with a leather holster and another note. He fastened the holster under his sleeve and to his left forearm and stowed the wand there. Next, he read the note.

Little Alchemist, Your wand is 13 inches, yew wood, with a core of Thestral Hair. Yew wands are said to give their wielder more power over life and death than other wand woods and is more attracted to the Dark Arts. The Thestral Hair core is unstable at best and will only work for those who have accepted death.

'Great,' he scowled, shoving the note into his trunk with the other one, 'Another constant reminder of my mistakes.' Even in a completely different world, his greatest mistake haunts him.

Accepting it with a huff, he shoved the robes he'd woken up in into the trunk and pulled out a book - quickly checking for his own journal and sighing when he found it in the inner pocket of his cropped jacket - and opened it to read. He stopped short at the new language that was registering in his brain. "What the fuck?" The new language - English - had probably been forced into his mind while coming Through. Making a conscious effort, Edward spoke in Amestiran, "Was soll der Scheiß?" Again, the passing Knowledge that this world's equivalent to his home language was called German jumped to the front of his mind. "That's going to take some getting used to." Pushing everything else aside, he opened the book and began to read Spellman's Syllabary.

***

Three books later, Edward forced himself pulled back into reality. The textbooks he read were strange. The first was a study of this worlds Runes, some of which he had studied as a kid in alchemy books. The next was about Potions, he had a feeling that he was going to like that class; The third was about the Wizarding World's history, it was interesting to compare the Knowledge he'd gotten coming Through to what was being taught; The last was about Transfiguration, and he decided then and there that he would not be attending that class at all, no matter the consequences.

Blinking as he closed the book, he found he was no longer alone in the compartment. "Who the hell are you?" were the first words he said to anyone since his arrival.

The boy across from him shifted nervously in his seat, not meeting Ed's eye as he seemed to shrink in on himself. "I-I'm sorry. It's just, everywhere else was-was full, and-and-" he stopped only to restart a different sentence, "I asked if-if I could sit here- Everywhere else is full and the train started moving and- I'm really sorry!"

"Hold on," Edward cut the kid off from speaking anymore, "It's fine. I get caught up in my own little world when I'm reading."

The brown haired boy took a deep breath, still not looking away from his hands, and pressing himself as far away from Ed as he could. His robes were crimson and ruby red where Ed's were yellow and gold. "I'm sorry." he squeaked again.

"You have nothing to apologise for."

"Yes I do. We-we don't know each other. Why would you ever let me sit here?" He stood and reached for his own trunk, "I-I'll just go sit somewhere else-"

"Stop." Ed ordered, his tone leaving no room for discussion, "Sit your ass back down. I'm fine with you being in here. I really don't care."

"But-but, I'm a Gryffindor and you're a Hufflepuff."

"So?"

"'So'?"

"Yeah, 'So?'. Why should I care about that? You're just sitting here."

"But-!"

"I'm Edward. Call me Ed."

The boy seemed like he wanted to say something, but he allowed the conversation to turn were Ed led it. "Neville Longbottom, though you probably already knew that." He did know that, but not for any reason Neville could come up with. "You're really okay with me staying?"

"Yes."

He slowly sat back down. "I don't remember seeing you around school before. Are you new?"

This question made Ed pause for a second. Nothing was telling him this kid was untrustworthy, but that didn't mean he'd tell him anything. Though, an ally would do him good. "Yeah, I'm new." Now, he was relying on what the Gate had given him. "I was sorted only a bit ago, so I don't really care about the Houses or whatever. I'm thinking about not telling anyone I'm new, though, see if I can trick everyone, y'know?"

Neville gave a small smile. Maybe there was a chance of befriending this kid? "That'd be funny."

Edward smiled, too, "You'll help me?"

"Of course!" He didn't know why, but Neville found this kid - Edward - easy to be around. He hadn't stuttered much this whole conversation and Ed was even asking him to help prank the whole school! But, that wouldn't last long. Once Ed found out how terrible at everything he is, he'll leave like everyone else.

"Hey," Ed asked, "What's wrong?"

"I just don't want to get my hopes up," Neville said shyly, "Once you realise how stupid I am, you'll not want to be around me."

Ed frowned. "Don't talk like that."

"Huh?"

"Self deprecation will get you nowhere. We're friends now, so I'm gonna help you work on that, okay?" Having a friend sounded nice. Besides, this kid is really easy to relax around. He was only ever able to relax like this around Al, but this kid was so similar to his brother that it was honestly a little scary.

"Friends? Are we really..?" A look from the blond made the brunet smile again. He didn't have friends. Acquaintances, sure, but not friends. "What're you reading?"

"The textbooks." Was the answer, "I didn't have time to read them over the summer, so I figured I'd read them now."

Neville nodded, agreeing to the logic, "Have you read the Herbology one yet?"

"No, but I can?" he offered.

A grin. "I want you're thoughts on this year's course when you're done." he sat back, "I'll wait."

Chuckling, Edward muttered, "Yes, sir," with a two fingered salute and a smirk as he began reading. It wasn't going to take him long to finish it, he knew, but his interest in whatever Neville had to say on the subject made him read slightly faster than normal.

***

The discussion on Herbology lasted from the third hour of the train ride - two o'clock in the afternoon - up until an hour before the sunset at seven o'clock. The train had come to a screeching and quick halt, cutting off any and all cheerful conversations and replacing them with collective confusion. The stop had also jolted everyone on the train, throwing most from or against their seats.

"What do you think is going on?" Neville asked his blond friend.

"I don't know," Edward stood from his seat, "But I'm going to-"

A sudden chill made itself known to the two boys. Their warm breaths became visible in the cold air and the glass of the windows quickly frosted over. Edward was thankful that he had winter automail on because he did not want to deal with frostbite, thank you. All sounds, muffled or otherwise, were muted over by a loud silence. Even their own breathing made little to no noise. Then, Neville started to tremble.

"Neville?" The boy in question had his hands loosely covering his ears and his eyes were wide and unfocused, seeing something Ed could not. He fell to his knees as tears started to fall from his eyes "Neville!" Edward recognised a flashback when he saw one. He'd seen some of the older soldiers have flashbacks to the Ishvalan War and was glad the fighting and war efforts hadn't reached Resembol outside of Winry's parents leaving and refugees joining the town.

A boney, charred black hand made itself known on the glass window of the door with a quiet tap, the window around the hand turning white with the cold, but the handprint stayed clear with an illusion of warmth. Slowly, the door opened and the owner of the hand was in full visibility, despite the cold seeming to fog everything else over with a thick mist. It was covered in a black cloak that hung so far and so loose that Ed couldn't tell if the thing was floating or standing. The hood covered where it's face should be and the sleeves seemed to be it's arms, falling over the things hands.

'A Dementor.' The Knowledge the Gate had forced into his head supplied, 'You're wand is protecting you.' Yew wood had power over life and death, so it was therefore able to protect against beings such as this one. The thestral hair core only seemed to amplify this. The words Expecto Patronum entered his mind.

Ed hadn't ever seen anything like this before, let alone faced something like it, so he was having a hard time overcoming his shock. When he did, though, he pulled Neville into a hug without turning his back on the creature. His wand fell from it's holster and into his left hand and he whispered the spell he was told. "Expecto Patronum!" His given Knowledge about the spell let him know that it was incredibly difficult to produce. It uses the castor's happiest memory as fuel to fend off Dementors, who feed off of misery. The happier the memory, the stronger the spell. The surprise Ed felt when a fully corporeal Patronus came into existence to push the Dementor out and away was immense. When the dark creature was gone, Ed watched as the glowing tiger made of silvery light approached and laid itself around him and Neville. A sense of calm overtook the train compartment and Ed found he could breathe easier. The room started to warm up with the Dementor now gone.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked Neville quietly once the boy had stopped trembling.

"I-I" he gulped, "I think so." He pulled away from Edward slightly, not noticing the tiger wrapped around him yet. "What was that thing?"

"A Dementor." Ed found a small bit of amusement that his companion hadn't noticed the silver magic yet.

Confused at why the blond was smiling, Neville started to ask why, but stopped short when he noticed the glowing tiger that he was somehow leaning against. It had wrapped itself around the two, it's tail going behind Edward and its head beside Neville. "What-"

"My Patronus, apparently," The tiger acknowledged the two with a nod - as if satisfied that they were now alright - before disappearing.

"You can cast the Patronus Charm?!" Neville had seen it mentioned in passing in a few books he's read, but, as far as he knew, it was a NEWT level spell! They wouldn't be learning that until Sixth Year!

"Apparently. That was my first time doing it." And using magic. Edward patted himself on the back for a job well done on the first try. Neville didn't need to know that part, though.

"You know what the tiger means, right?"

"It means something?"

"Of course it does!" Neville shook Ed by the shoulders, "The tiger means strength and cunning and majesty and independance and immortality. How did you not know that?"

Ed's brain short circuited. There was several things to unpack there, but the one he was focused on was the whole 'immortality' thing. What the fuck?

"You good?" Neville's voice pulled him back from his mind.

"Am I alright? I should be asking you that!" He lowered his voice. "You had a flashback."

Neville shook his head. "I don't really wanna talk about it." That made sense. He wasn't going to push. "Well, should we go see what's going on?" Edward smiled and nodded, helping the brunet up after standing himself.

There was a knock on the door. "Everything okay in here?" a man's voice called from the other side of the door.

Ed opened it, "Yeah, we're good."

"Who're you?" Neville asked from over Ed's shoulder. He was a whole four inches taller than the blond, much to the latter's irritation.

The man pulled chocolate out of his jacket pocket and handed a bar to the boys. "That was a Dementor." Then, he paused for a second and looked around the compartment. "Did either of you cast the Patronus Charm?"

Edward crossed his arms. "Who are you?"

The man seemed to size the two up for a second. "I'm Remus Lupin, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year."

"Cool. Never heard of you." Neville gasped and backed up a few steps, obviously surprised at Ed's gall.

Remus laughed, "No, I suppose you haven't. Now, did you two cast a Patronus?"

"Yeah?" Ed raised an eyebrow, "How did you know?"

"Good job," he sent a quick glance to Ed's tie, "Ten points to Hufflepuff. The Patronus Charm leaves a kind of residue in the air. Lingering happiness, you could say."

"Huh. Cool."

"Anyway, I need to go check on the rest of the students. Be sure to change into your robes before we get to the school." Then, he walked away.

Ed closed the door and snickered.

"What're you laughing at?" Neville asked, a weak glare in his eyes. Edward had some audacity talking to a teacher like that! Though, Neville supposed it was a nice change. He wasn't gonna admit that out loud, though.

"His name." Ed moved away from the door and sat back in his seat.

Neville sat across from him again. "What about his name?"

"It means," he started to laugh again. "It means 'Wolf Wolf'." The Knowledge he'd gotten had included the myths of this world. The one he was thinking of was of Remus and Romulus of Rome. They had been raised by the wolf Lupa. "If that man has nothing to do with wolves, I'll eat my boots."

Neville giggled, "I'd pay ten galleons to see that."

"Oh, you're on!" The two shook hands as the train began moving again.

***

When Edward read 'school' on the note The Truth had left for him, he was expecting something closer to the ones back home, like a building no taller than three floors. Not a whole ass village. When he expressed this to Neville, the boy told him the the village - Hogsmeade - was not the school, before leading him over to the carriages. Most students, Ed noticed, were ignoring the horses altogether. The few that saw them gave them a wide berth. He wasn't about that. He walked right up to one, dragging Neville with him, and patted it's side.

"What is it?" Neville asked.

"A thestral." he answered.

Tentatively, Neville reached out to pet the horse as well. "It's beautiful." The two soon had to leave the thestrals and jumped into the carriage. They didn't say much as they waited to arrive at the school, though they were joined by a blond in royal and sapphire blue robes before they started moving.

Again, Edward's first image of a school was maybe three floors in a very rectangular building. Not a damn castle. He barely refrained from expressing his excitement in front of his extra companion. Though, he did have the information Given to him come to the forefront of his mind for a moment, just long enough to skim through the history of the building. It was a lot and it would be sorted through later.

"You don't have to hold back," the girl said, "I know you're new here."

"Are you sure I'm new?" Edward asked her, "There's a lot of kids here, you could have just overlooked me before."

"Quite sure." she nodded, "The wrackspurts that like to stay at the school haven't gotten to you yet." Her ice blue eyes gleamed for a moment. "My name's Luna Lovegood."

"Edward, but you can call me Ed."

"Nice to meet you, Ed. Neville."

The brunet squeaked. "Um, hi."

Luna giggled, "We haven't met before, but your reputation proceeds you, as does mine."

Neville blink dumbly before saying, "Loony?"

She smiled, "Yes,"

"Oh, my god!" Neville covered his mouth in mild horror, "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay." She didn't seem to mind.

While the two students who weren't on their first day of school conversed, Edward had let himself openly - but quietly - gawk at the castle that was apparently a school. At first, he had to do a double take. Why would they be going to a bunch old ruins? But then the focus of the world seemed to shift and he couldn't help himself. He'd never seen a castle in person but this was a fantastic first impression on him. Now he could hold bragging rights over Mustang! Though, he wasn't sure if the tingling in his ports was natural. He couldn't very well ask the two because they obviously had all their limbs. The closer he got to the castle, he noticed, the more alarm bells started to go off in his head. Then, the tingling got worse.

"Ed?" Neville called, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah.." was his distracted answer. He rubbed his right shoulder port with his left hand, "..yeah."

"Are you sure?" Luna asked, her eyes on his right hand.

Before he could answer, his head erupted into a splitting headache and he doubled over, gripping his head in his left hand. 'What the hell is happening?!' He wondered. There was a quiet voice screaming at him to get out and leave, trying to force excuses into his head. The tingling in his ports turned to a stabbing pain, rendering his right arm and left leg useless

"This is a violent reaction to the wards," Luna said, though Ed couldn't be sure he really heard her.

Neville was chewing on his bottom lip, "Why, though? He was perfectly fine on the train."

"Is he a muggle or a squib?"

"No. He performed magic on the train when the Dementor entered the cart."

"Hmm. This is a problem."

Ed came back into focus about then, the pain in his head down to a tolerable hum and his automail ports only feeling slightly heavier than normal. He methodically moved all the joints in his automail that he could, just ot make sure everything was in working order, not that he could actually move them again. "What...the hell was that?"

Luna sat back in her seat, though she was no less concerned than before. "The wards. I don't think the castle likes you very much."

"Why wouldn't the castle like him?" Neville was wondering several things she could have ment, but he was going to try and stay on track for now. He could ask more questions later.

She humed. "Hogwarts doesn't like muggles. Squibs like Mr. Filch are tolerable, though. She must really dislike you for some reason."

"I'm sorry," Ed said, "'She'?"

"The castle."

"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, okay." Maybe he has lost it. He got hit in the head and he's lost his mind. That's the only explanation for whatever was going on. Apparently sentient castles were a thing now? Great. Fantastic.

"Either way," Neville chimed in, leaving the matter of the Hogwarts' apparent sentience for a later date, "Do you think you'll be okay for the Welcome Feast?" Then, he backtracked to when his first conversation with the blond. "Actually, what year are you?"

Ed's eyebrow twitched. He's fifteen years old, damn it, so why is he being but with people two years younger?! He huffed quietly. "Third year."

Neville brightened up. "That's my year!" Then, he deflated, "But we're not in the same House."

"So?" he still couldn't wrap his mind around the whole 'House Rivalry' thing going on despite the reasons having been shoved straight into his head. "What House we're in shouldn't matter."

"You want to make the whole school thing you're on your third year here, yes?" Luna asked, though neither boy was sure how she found out about that little plan, "Then just play into that. Don't go out of your way to interact with each other, and no one will suspect a thing."

"Nah," Ed turned down. He didn't like the idea of shoving Neville aside to keep up appearances. "I'll just play into the Hufflepuff House Traits." Yes, he knew enough about those to recite them in his sleep. "Justice, loyalty, patience, and propensity for hard word. We're friends now. I don't leave people behind."

Luna smiled, "Well, I don't know how much help I'll be, but-"

Ed cut her off. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, we're friends now, too. Besides, you seem interesting."

"Thank you. You're interesting as well."

Neville was going to stop questioning anything now. Though, he had to admit that they made a pretty fun group, despite only having just met each other. Friends. What a weird concept.

"Now," Ed said as the carriage came to a stop near the castle, "let's go back to the reputation thing. You both have proceeding reputations? I'll have to step up my game. I've been here for two years and people are only just noticing me?" He clicked his tongue and shook his head, "A damn shame."

The two laughed, fully intent on playing along with this endeavor of tricking the whole school. Luna still hadn't told them how she found out about that. "Anther time, Ed. You know which table you're going to?"

"The yellow one, right?"

"That's the one!"

"Okay. I'll see you two later?"

"Of course."

Now alone, Ed took a second to look around at the flood of students heading up to the castle. They'd pretty much all sectioned themselves off into four main groups. Red, yellow, blue, and green. The red and green groups were all sneering at each other and were being separated by the yellow and blue kids. And, based on everything he'd been Given when he came Through the Gate, he was going to have to tread carefully. Politics. Ew. Despite all reservations, he joined the yellow group and followed them into the castle.

The Entry Hall was just has grand as the rest of the castle, and very sparsely decorated. The doors in front of him were tall and opened on their own to let the flood of students into the Grand Hall. It was beautifully decorated, but Ed wasn't quite sure he liked the ceiling. It was amazing, nonetheless. The five tables were arranged in a way that basically promoted against Inter-House relationships. The teacher's table was fine, but the four House Tables were all separated quite obviously, and the banners above them only amplified this. With a huff, Ed sat down at the end of the yellow table. The Hufflepuffs around him didn't seem to take notice of him. Good. All the better for gaslighting the staff and student body.

A few minutes after everyone had sat down, a stool was placed in front of the teacher's table. An old pile of cloth sat on top of it. Then, the doors to the Great Hall opened once again and a stern looking teacher - Professor McGonagall, Ed's mind supplied - walked in, a gaggle of obviously nervous kids following after her. That was how the Sorting Ceremony started.

***

It took an hour, but every single one of the first years had been sorted between the four Houses. It was off-putting for Ed to see the absolute disgust or rage or other negative emotions on the students' faces when someone was sorted into a House that wasn't their own. Seriously, why are they all getting so upset about a kid being placed where they'd fit in best? He didn't outtwordly react, though.

All the House tables had ranging reactions to each placement, but Hufflepuff had the least negative out of all of them. The Slytherins sneered at everyone who wasn't with them, especially if they were sorted into Gryffindor. The Gryffindors returned the favor. The Ravenclaws weren't nearly as bad as the other two, but they did avoid watching anyone walk to their table. They didn't make a sound when anyone was sorted into Hufflepuff, though. The Hufflepuffs, clapped politely for everyone, but there were a few that they didn't clap for. They were mostly Ravenclaws.

According to the Gate, it was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws got along, while the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs got along. None of them actually went out of their way to interact, but classes styled like that were normally more productive than a Gryffindor and Slytherin class.

Ed was gonna change that. Maybe. It was on his list now that he'd met Luna and Neville, but it wasn't a priority. More of, if it happens, it happens.

"I welcome you all, whether you are returning for another year or you are only just coming in, to Hogwarts for another year or learning." the old man in the middle of the staff table said. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, he knew from the Gate, was wearing obnoxious pink robes with his beard tucked into the blue belt. "I only have one thing to say to you all, now that you've been seated: Tuck in!"

Upon his command, dishes and food and drink appeared on all the tables, covering the wood to the point it could hardly be seen. Everyone started to serve themselves as conversation erupted throughout the room, engulfing it into a cacophony of sound and movement that was, in all honesty, overwhelming Ed.

"Hey," someone said from next to him, their voice quiet against everything else, making it stand out ot his ear more, "Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

Ed pushed an answer out of his throat in a voice equally as quiet. "Yeah," he lied, "This is my third year and I'm still not used to this much noise."

The kid, Cedric, he recognised from the Gate, nodded, "Yeah, I get that. When we get back to the dorms, we can put a silencing charm over your bed curtains."

"Isn't there already a silencing charm on them?"

"Yeah, but that's just to muffle the sound going in or out. I'll put one on that'll completely silence the noise going in."

That didn't sound to bad. "Edward Elric," he introduced himself as he finally began to get himself food. Despite what Mustang believed, he did have manners. He just doesn't use them around the bastard because he sees no reason to.

Cedric also began eating. "Cedric Diggory." They let the conversation sit for a second, the fifth year student was making sure to be quiet. It didn't to a lot in the grand scheme of the room, but the sentiment was appreciated. "Forgive me, but I don't recognise you. Are you a visiting student?"

Ed shook his head, the lie coming easy to him, "No, I've been here, since year one. I just don't like to draw attention usually."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Really? You don't seem the type."

"Huh?"

"You're," he gestured vaguely at Ed, "vibe, I guess. It basically screams for attention." Ed didn't say anything. Cedric flinched. "Right, sorry, that was rude of me." he cleared his throat, "Are you going to hide yourself in the background again this year, or are you going to try and make friends?"

Ed pretended to think for a moment before answering, "I made some friends on the train earlier."

"Oh? That's good."

"Yeah. If we ever want to spend time outside of classes, though, it's inevitable we'll draw attention to ourselves."

"Oh?" he said again, "And why's that?"

"We're all in different Houses."

"Ah. Yeah, I can see where the problem lies."

Before their conversation could continue, the food and drinks and dishes were taken from the table. "House elves." Ed muttered under his breath.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood from his seat again and cleared his throat, calling everyone's attention to him. Once every student was looking at the old man, he smiled with a twinkle in his eye as his gaze moved from student to student. Ed made sure to not meet the man's eyes. "As always, a wonderful feast." he began, "Before I send you off to your beds, there a a few things to be announced and reminded. The Forbidden Forest is, to those who do not wish to die a most gruesome death, forbidden. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that a list of prohibited objects ha been posted to his office door on the second floor." He turned slightly to the left side of the staff table. "I would like to introduce you all to this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Remus Lupin." Ed was giggling behind his hand while everyone clapped. The man stood, waved a bit, then sat back down. Dumbledore continued, "Classes begin tomorrow at eight in the morning. I wish you all a good night."

Again, the room became very loud very quickly. Cedric shot Ed an apologizing look. "I'll met you in the common room, okay?" Ed nodded as the brunet stood and called for the first years to follow him.

Ed Knew where he was going, but he didn't really know. So, he followed everyone else as they left the Great Hall. He made sure to make himself seem small - because he was not small - as he walked in the middle of the crowd. Cedric and someone else had taken the first years on a different route, so he resigned himself to being surrounded by people he's never met before in his life. Which ones are his dorm-mates, he wonders. He doesn't really care to know at the moment.

The group of students wearing yellow accented robes wandered down to the basement - a floor above the dungeons - and to the kitchens. At least, near the kitchens. One of the boys at the head of the group tapped the barrel two from the bottom of the stack twice, then thrice, muttering 'Helga Hufflepuff' as he did so. The passage opened up and the Hufflepuffs all filed into the common room.

The room was very cozy and smelled like freshly cut grass and rain and burning firewood and freshly baked bread. Overall, it felt like home did. The earthy tones to the room only amplified this fact. The ceiling was white marble, the floor was off-white tile with a dark green mosaic in the middle, and the walls were off-white and light grey bricks. Wooden supports pillared up in a few places, even scattered about, and were connected at the top by arches. The room itself was round and very big. There were two wooden staircases leading up to the second floor landings, separating the male and female dorms. Alcloves took up the walls of the room, filled with bookshelves and couches and matching chairs and darker area rugs. A large fireplace took up the wall directly opposite the door, the space in front occupied by several more armchairs and couches. There was an area with only bean-bag chairs and Ed decided that he needed to get one of those in his own world. Aside from pictures that had been hung up, the bulletin board by the door, and the furniture, plants took up every available space. Round windows lining the top of the walls and warm lanterns hanging from the rafters completed the room.

Everyone settled into the common room nicely. No one went to their rooms yet, so it was a bit crowded. Not overly so, though. For Hogwarts being the only magic school in Britain, there weren't a lot of students.

About ten minutes later, the two House Prefects for Hufflepuff brought the First Years in. Everyone was very friendly to them, and they all quickly warmed up to each other and their Housemates. Eventually, though, the older years started to taper off into their rooms. Ed followed Cedric into the Third Year boys' dorms.

"So," Cedric said, "I see the common room wasn't too loud for you?"

Ed shook his head "Nope. It was a manageable level. Besides, it feels like I've come home after a long trip." Well, the common room felt like how he imagines it would be like when he and Al went back to Resembool after they get their bodies back.

Cedric frowned slightly, but ultimately didn't say anything. He quickly finished the charms on Ed's bed curtains before turning back to the blond with a smile. "Well, if you need anything, feel free to ask me or your roommates or anyone else in the House. Professor Sprout is also more than happy to talk to her students."

Ed smiled softly at the older boy, "You act like it's my first day," It was, but he wasn't going to tell Cedric that. Not now, at least. Maybe a different time.

"Of course," the brunet smiled back, "Right." he went to the door, "Well, I'll let ya get some sleep. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah," the blond nodded, "See ya then."

The door closed and Ed found himself alone in the room. It was hexagonal in shape, the floor was off-white tile, the walls off-white and light grey bricks, and the ceiling was white brick. The wall trim was carved wood, matching the rafters and corner beams and door, and climbed two feet up the wall. The beds were all four-posted with soft yellow blankets, white sheets and pillowcases, and had black and gold bed curtains. To the right of each bed was a wooden nightstand with three drawers. On the left was a dresser with five drawers. Trunks sat at the end of each bed, and a yellow rug with the Hufflepuff coat of arms on it covered most of the floor.

Ed easily found his trunk and bed, closing the curtains around him before he let himself get comfortable. It was weird, laying in this bed. It seemed to solidify the fact in his mind that this was real. He's in a new world, far away from anything familiar and safe. Magic is everywhere, and all laws of Equivalence are ignored! He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, so he grabbed a book from his trunk and started to read, mumbling to himself the whole while.

***

He must've fallen asleep at some point because his pocket watch was now telling him that it was now five in the morning. Ed sighed and dragged a hand down his face before taking his hair from the braid he'd slept in. It was still early, so he'd have the bathroom to himself for a while. Good, because he hadn't had a shower in days and he was feeling dirty. His hair was also getting oily and it was not a pleasant feeling.

#fma #harry potter #fanfiction #crossover #fma x hp #I started this on WattPad #now I write on Ao3 and haven't posted this anywhere #I'm very proud of this one and it will be going on Ao3 at some point #just not right now #this is all you're getting btw #have fun #hope you like it #There is an audience for this #I swear

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sidekick-hero · 2 months

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Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 17 #Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost #my writing

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Bonds in Bondage

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, BDSM, wrists tied up, fingering, cunnilingus, praise, horny Charlie

Word count: 1.9k

Ao3

A/N: This needed to happen after that BDSM club scene. Let them be kinky too!

What a day it was today but now finally, finally Charlie and Vaggie could have some time to themselves.

"I'm really proud of you for today Vaggie." Charlie kissed her girlfriend on the cheek as they got into bed side by side.

"Still don't feel like I did that much. I probably should have stuck around and-" Her lips were met with Charlie's finger against them, "Hm?"

Charlie's smile alone could do away with any of Vaggie's worries. How did she do that again? Some hidden power. "I told you they're already getting alone better... in their own way. You can't argue with results." The smooth finger pressed further against her lips, "And you should know I appreciate all of your hard work." Ah, this. Of course Charlie couldn't go to sleep without addressing it.

"I-I know that, babe. It's just... in my own head." Vaggie spoke softly against Charlie's finger. She really didn't want to make Charlie upset again. If she started letting her own insecurities out now she wouldn't be able to protect Charlie or the Hotel. "Do you want to go to sleep or..." She sensed there was more to this judging by the excited look in Charlie's eyes.

That look meant another big idea or a night with very little to no sleep. Or in some cases both one after the other.

Charlie leaned in for a long kiss. The second option then. In their kiss Vaggie pulled the princess into her lap, her hands tangling with Charlie's hair, "I love when you let your hair down."

"Mmm, yeah?"

"Mhm. It's really hot. Kinda like the rest of you." Her hands unbuttoned Charlie's pajamas bit by little bit until she could press her face against the warm flesh. "What do you want me to do for you tonight hermosa?"

"Actually... I have something I want to try. Something new." Charlie spoke in a low tone, slipping out of bed and fetching something from the closet.

New? Oh Vaggie had to see this.

"That BDSM club we were at, I went back with Angel and Husk. But don't worry, I kept them in line!" Vaggie frowned in worry. Those two being in line wasn't exactly what she was worried about. "It wasn't that bad once they weren't trying to get me in on it. They were very insistent for some reason."

"Probably cause you were the hottest person in there." Vaggie whispered to herself while she watched Charlie open the gift. The princess held the item up in front of her. "A ribbon?"

"A bondage ribbon. It looked pretty, reminded me of the ribbon you wear in your hair." Charlie ran her fingers over the silk material. "I know this kinda stuff isn't usually my thing but what Angel said about bonds and bondage got me thinking."

Of course Charlie would find a way to make kinky stuff romantic. Vaggie let out a small chuckle at the cuteness of her girlfriend. "Hon, it's okay to want to try things. You want me to tie you up? Fine, as long as you're happy."

"No, I... I don't want to be the tied up one." Again Charlie put the ribbon in front of Vaggie, closer this time. Vaggie cringed and looked from the ribbon back to Charlie. "If you don't want to then I'll do it first. But Vaggie I... I had no idea your trust in people was, and I'm saying this with all the love that I can, learned in a really fucked up way."

"Charlie..."

"I want you to trust me. You know I trust you, you could tie me up and I still know you won't do anything I don't want you to. When I saw you talk about how you were taught I couldn't help but imagine the pain you felt. Why not learn trust in a different way? I promise I won't do anything you'd hate." Charlie was serious about this, not treating it like a game like she sometimes did with Angel Dust and Pentious. It made this more scary. Why couldn't she think of a fun game to get Vaggie to open up?

"I do trust you Charlie, I trust you with my life, my very being." Trust and honesty were very different things though. For most they went hand in hand but not for Vaggie. "How do you want me Princess?" She put a bit more raspiness into her tone. She knew it always made Charlie's mind run wild.

"With... your hands above your head?" No matter how assertive she tried to be she still came of as incredibly gentle. Vaggie loved that about her.

Naturally she indulged her lovers wishes when she asked so cutely. She put one hand up against the bed and waited. Charlie gulped, her pale face now fully pink. Moving up she took Vaggie's wrist, careful not to grip it hard.

Focused on the task at hand she didn't notice Vaggie's head moving closer until she felt lips on her nipple. "Vaggie! I'm supposed to be making you feel good."

"I feel very good right now." Her tongue flicked over Charlie's nipple at the same time as her finger. "You got these right in my face and you expect me not to go for them?" Vaggie smiled against the side of Charlie's breast. "When I'm with you, I don't believe I'm in Hell. You're better then those assholes back up in Heaven too."

Her words escaped her before she caught them. She still hasn't... told Charlie everything. Good thing pretty much everyone in Hell was of the opinion Heaven is full of jerks.

"Y-You're sweet but..." Charlie gasped when Vaggie pushed her pants down and her middle finger all the way into her pussy with great ease. "That's cheating. How do you expect me to... tie your hands when you're... fingering me?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out babe."

Vaggie hooked her finger forward, urging Charlie to roll her hips along with her. Charlie's vision was blurry as she tried to tie the first knot around Vaggie's wrist. But damn, it was difficult when she kept getting fingerfucked. It was one slow loop after another, missing, bucking her hips, getting distracted by the finger holding still and then starting again.

After a few failed attempts she stopped trying and focused on Vaggie herself. Vaggie glanced up at her girlfriend as she pressed the heel of her hand fully against Charlie's pussy. Her finger sliding fully inside she felt Charlie's inner walls pulsing around her finger as she came and held onto Vaggie's shoulders for balance.

Her horns peaked through her blond hair slightly before she took in deep breaths to calm herself. "You're so unfair."

"You love it baby." Vaggie grinned and pushed the heel of her hand against Charlie's clit every time thee Princess rocked her hips down. "Still think I'm unfair?"

Vaggie just asked her something but Charlie didn't hear it over the sound of her own moans and the repeated squelching. "Yes... fuck... please... so close!" She pushed Vaggie's hand down with her hips when she felt that finger curl inside her again. Her body shivered as her pussy walls clenched and pulsed around the long digit, leaving Vaggie's hand soaked.

"You doing good sweetie?" Vaggie's lips pressed against Charlie's shoulder, soothing her trembling.

"Give me a minute." She needed to catch her breath because holy shit, the room was spinning right now. "How are you the one tied up but I'm the one who got fucked?"

"Talent?" And a lot of imagination. And... maybe a few things she read and saw. But mostly talent. She eased her finger out, feeling how Charlie's walls clenched around her, slowly relaxing around the last knuckle. "Want to clean-?! Holy fuck!"

Charlie tucked her hair behind her ear immediately and sucked on Vaggie's finger with gusto. "You're not the only talented one here." While Vaggie was mesmerized Charlie tied her hand with the other one, finally getting the knot secured around the bedframe. "I've been told I have a really talented mouth on me."

Vaggie gulped and smirked in anticipation as Charlie lowered herself between her legs. "And who told you that?"

"A really beautiful woman. She seems to like it when I do things like this with my mouth." Charlie pressed her lips against the wet entrance and pushed her tongue in. It was slightly longer in her demon form which meant that she could reach deeper, she could reach Vaggie g-spot and curl her tongue against it.

Vaggie pulled at the rope around her wrists, enjoying the little sting against the pleasure Charlie was giving her between her legs. Her thighs locked around Charlie's head, mindful of the pointy horns and fangs.

The sharp edges that Charlie chose to reveal at certain times reminded Vaggie of how dangerous she could be. It also made Vaggie realize she might have a bit of a kink for that.

"So hot in here, you're dripping all over our sheets." Charlie pressed her fangs over Vaggie's thigh, making her shiver. Vaggie didn't shiver from fear, she knew that her girlfriend wouldn't hurt her. She was safe with Charlie, and she will keep Charlie safe, always, no matter what it takes.

Her thighs pressed tighter around Charlie's head as the princess dragged her long tongue to Vaggie's clit. The tongue moved in slow patterns over the small bud of nerves, Vaggie's hips rising, breath hitching in her throat when she realized Charlie spelled her name on her. She was Charlie's, she could never even imagine otherwise.

"Come for me beautiful, I'll take care of you." Those soft, talented lips wrapped around Vaggie's clit and her hands dug into her thighs, keeping them spread open instead of closed. With every suck Vaggie's legs went more slack under Charlie's fingers.

"Charlie! Don't stop, don't, just, don't stop now, I'm-!" She almost felt like she was floating again with Charlie being the only thing that held her down. Her hips rolled into Charlie's mouth, having a mind of their own.

"I've got you Vaggie. I got you. I love you Vaggie." Her wet lips let go of Vaggie's clit with an audible pop, slowly dragging from one side of Vaggie's inner thigh to the other.

"I... I know you do. I love you too Charlie, I always will, please believe that."

Charlie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "Of course I know that. You show it all the time." Vaggie hopped all the time was enough. It would have to be enough. "Oh! I sure hope these didn't bruise!" She quickly untied Vaggie's wrists and sighed in relief, "Good. Only a bit of rope burn." Her lips, still damp, dragged over Vaggie's wrists. "There. All better now right?"

"Of course they are sweetie. Come." Charlie chuckled, "Not like... ugh... I'm gonna kill Angel Dust, he's making you like him."

"Don't you like this side of me?"

"I like all sides of you. Even this kinky one. Especially this kinky one. Just be careful when Angel Dust drags you to places." Obviously she can't be there all the time but Charlie could take care of herself for the most part. She was very awkward about it though.

Charlie would be fine. Even if one day Vaggie wasn't here, Charlie would be fine. But for as long as Charlie wants her Vaggie will stay by her side.

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut

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saintvainglorious · 3 months

Text

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

#bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #my books #black sails #silverflint #fanfiction #bsanniversary #10yearsblacksails #10bsfest

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mooncalf87 · 2 months

Note

Do you have headcanons for Alastor and his mother?

YES I'm so sorry this took me so long to anwser

Also I cant think of a proper name for Alastors mama so we are just referring to her as "alastors mama" in this

Inspiration for a few of these come from the appleradio fic "Permission to Touch" on Ao3 by Nyou! Its an amazing fic, you all should go and read it :3

Alastor and his Mama hcs <3

Alastor got sick a lot as a child, and some of his best memorys were his mama taking care of him

She didn't pass away until after Alastor was killed

Alastor never moved out because he never saw a real reason to, and his mama was just fine with that.

She was a cook in life

There was almost CONSTANTLY music playing in their home

Alastors mama helped him start his radio broadcast in life! Without her he would've never been able to accomplish everything he did

Mimzy and Alastors mom got along great!! Mimzy was one of Alastors only friends so she hung around their house a lot

After Heaven and Hell start working together in peace, Alastor gets to see his mama again (who is an angel)

She is not proud of alastor for all the terrible things he has done, but he is still her baby, and she has all the love for him in the world.

Alastor brings his mama to Cannibal Town! No one trys to eat her because "any family of Al, is a friend of ours." Alastor introduces his mama to Rosie, who immediately hit it off and become friends. Alastors mama shares all the embarrassing Alastor storys to Rosie <3

Alastors mama LOVES everyone at the hotel. Especially Charlie! She reminds her of herself when she was young

They can't spend more then 24 hours in a realm that they weren't assigned to at death, but Alastor and his mama visit each other a lot

In heaven, Alastors mom has a close friend group that consists of Emily, Molly, and Sir Pentious! She's shocked when she finds out Molly and Pents relations to the hotel/hotel members

In heaven Alastors mama owns a restaurant <3

Alastors mama doesn't know many of the other overlords very well (other then rosie), but she likes Carmilla Carmine and her daughters a lot

Alastor doesn't come to heaven as much as his mama comes to hell to visit him, people up there are still not as welcoming as Hell can be

His mama loves Lucifer. So much. Thinks he's the sweetest little guy

Her form is a sheep! She's just about as tall as Alastor, maybe just a few inches shorter.

Alastors mama LOVES to draw! She is an amazing artist

(These next ones include appleradio, so if you arnt a fan of that ship, you've read all I've got to offer! :)

Alastor and Lucifer don't tell als mama about their relationship for a little while! She is originally apprehensive about Luci due to the fact that he is the literal DEVIL, but they tell her once she starts warming up to him

She is very excited about their relationship!! She can see how much they care for each other in their little actions (like covering another with a blanket if they're cold, little sweet stuff like that)

Once alastors mama realizes that Luci isn't this big scary guy like he's said to be in heaven, she warms right up to him. They love gossiping together

I take HC requests!!

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waywardstation · 3 months

Text

I'm Glad You're Here

It is Akari's sixteenth birthday, and a surprise party is thrown for her. She isn't able to appreciate it as much as she wants to though, and Ingo can tell. Emmet also struggles with facing his first birthday without Ingo, but Elesa is there for him.

HAPPY (VERY LATE) SECOND ANNIVERSARY PLA!! What a wonderful game that has given me many friends and creatively compelled me for more than two years!! I tried to get this out on the date, but lots of things made it very hard to. So now it's out on valentine's day instead, so I'll just excuse it with saying this is my love letter to PLA haha, and it fits with palentine's day, as it contains a lot of appreciating friendships and found family.

I wrote this including three prompts that I had gotten, such as requesting something about Akari or Ingo dealing with their birthdays in Hisui, Ingo and Akari acknowledging the found family dynamic I write them with, and Akari talking a little more about her own family.

OR read it here on AO3!

Enjoy! —————

“Goodnight, Akari!”

“Hope you had fun at your party, Akari!”

“Happy birthday, Akari!”

Standing by the Galaxy Hall’s doors with Ember at her feet, said teen thanked partygoers and bid them goodbye as they trickled out into the chilly autumn night. Protecting themselves from the ongoing rain as best they could, they were quick to make their way down the steps and back to their village homes.

“Oh, Professor! Rei!” Turning away from bidding goodbye to Darego and thanking him for the photos he took, she saw Laventon and Rei were next to leave. “You’re heading out now too?”

“Unfortunately so,” Laventon seemed a bit sheepish, as if apologetic for leaving despite the event having already ended. “Early mornings filled with paperwork are not the most forgiving of late night festivities. Otherwise we’d stay and properly take care of that whole disaster upstairs!”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Akari waved him off with her hand. “I already said Ingo and I would take care of it! Honestly he’s probably already done by now, so it’s fine, you guys can go home! You both already did so much for me tonight with this whole party, anyways; I don’t know how you did it!”

Laventon returned the smile she gave them both with one that was twice as big, seeming very proud with the compliment. “Well it was quite a delight to finally reveal all this, I’ll say; having to keep all of it hidden from you for the last few weeks was by far the hardest part!”

“You did a good job, I had no idea until everyone shouted ‘surprise!’ , honestly.” Akari shrugged her shoulders, giving a little laugh about it. “Thank you for all of this, Professor.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear girl!” Laventon held her in a tight embrace when she stepped forward to give him a farewell hug. “Once again, happy birthday!”

“And Rei, you too; thank you so much for the party,” She next reached out to grab her friend’s arm and pull him into a hug when Laventon stepped aside.

“Well of course-!” He choked out with some strain, crushed in her sturdy grip but doing his best to return the embrace. “You deserved it!”

As the two moved out the door to head back for the night, Laventon gave one last look back, shielding his eyes from the rainfall with one hand. “I hope you have a very good night, we’ll be seeing you tomorrow!”

“Yes, goodnight Akari, happy birthday!” Rei added on, following behind.

“Goodnight, guys!” Akari made a show of waving and bidding them both goodbye, but as Laventon made his way down the steps first, she reached forward and grasped the end of Rei’s scarf, tugging him back.

“Rei, wait!” She whispered, pulling her confused colleague back to her. “Real quick-”

Before he could even protest, Akari reached around behind the Galaxy Hall’s door, and handed him a small woven basket. Holding it out, she waited for him to take it.

“Here, take these. I know the Professor would say no if I tried to give it to him. But it’s for you both, as thanks for putting this whole party together for me.”

Rei studied the basket for a moment. Quickly picking up the sweet smell coming from inside, he put his hands up. “Akari, thank you but we couldn’t take that, those are yours!”

“I know, but please; I love Radisa’s cakes, but I also have a ton of dango from Beni, and Cyllene got me all those imported pastries from the Ginko Guild, and Floaro made me a whole box of muffins…” Akari explained, numbering all the confectioneries with the fingers on one of her hands. “There’s no way I can eat all of them by myself, and I’d rather someone gets to enjoy them rather than let them be wasted!”

“Rei!” Amongst the rain, the professor’s voice called out from down by the units; he’d finally noticed he was gone. “Are you coming?”

Looking back over his shoulder at the call of his name, Akari took the chance to shove the basket into Rei’s hands, to his surprise. “Hey!”

“Uh-oh, yours now!” Akari put her hands behind her back and took a step away from him, a mischievous grin on her face — Rei was now entirely stuck with them. “Guess you gotta take them now!”

“You can’t just- that’s not fair!” Rei seemed stuck between amusement and exasperation as he looked between her and the professor’s direction, caught in the middle of two different options and no proper time to consider them. He shook his head.

“Agh, fine! Thank you for these, Akari, really-” With a free arm, Rei pulled Akari into another quick hug, before whipping around to rush down the steps, protecting the basket as best he could from the rainfall. “Coming, Professor!”

As her colleague made his way down the steps and into the rain, Akari waved him off until he disappeared. Once he was out of sight, the teen’s big smile waned into a more neutral line, and she turned to go back inside the hall. With Ember quick to follow behind as she headed for the staircase, the door closed behind her.

The drizzle continued on.

—————

“Did we miss another spot?”

Ingo glanced over his shoulder from where he stood up on a chair. Akari had entered the otherwise-vacant room, Ember at her heels while she pushed stray paper streamers aside from where they dangled.

“It appears we overlooked the ceiling,” The warden returned to the task at hand, stretching an arm back up to scrub as Akari came near to watch him. “And I’ve overestimated how stubbornly bean paste clings to surfaces once it’s dried. Would you mind holding that bucket up for a moment?”

“Even up there? Man, Beugene really did get it everywhere, didn’t he?” Akari laughed as she retrieved the bucket from the table and held it up to him – she could already hear Beuregard profusely apologizing again to her tomorrow for letting his wurmple get into (then burst out of) her cake. He really could stand to keep a better eye on Beugene, seeing as Miki’s staravia almost flew off with it the other day, but she truely hadn’t been upset at the incident. It had honestly been too impressive seeing just how much cake and paste the little Pokémon had managed to splatter all over the walls, carpet, and guests to feel mad about it.

“Thank you,” Ingo dunked his paste-covered rag into the bucket, wringing the soapy water out generously before going back to work on one last spot. A couple thorough scrapes, and the last of the cake seemed to finally be gone.

Ingo handed the rag back to Akari as she reached out to take it, having already placed the bucket back on the table. She set it aside as the warden took one last look around the room from atop the chair, a final scan. “There. While I wouldn’t be surprised if a Galaxy Team member somehow finds another spot somewhere tomorrow, that should be the last of it.”

“Ok, now get down,” Akari gestured to the floor with one hand while she held the chair with the other. “Don’t want you hurting your old man back.”

“I’m not that old,” Ingo played along with her teasing as he always did. But regardless, he began to step down with a soft grunt that did suggest some tightness, at the very least.

Normally, Akari would have pursued it with more of her usual teasing, like asking how old he really was then — he always came up with something funny when she asked that. But she knew he didn’t really remember his age. And yes, he always said it didn’t bother him in the grand scheme of things. But reminding him he didn’t have that right after they had finished celebrating her sixteenth birthday felt uncomfortable, especially considering he didn’t remember his own birth date either. So she left it there this time, watching him get down.

“Well, exploding cake and its messy aftermath aside, I’d say your party was quite a success; what an array of festivities we had tonight!” With his feet back on the ground, Ingo sang his praises as he set the chair back where it belonged against the wall. “I’m glad to see the sudden rain didn’t dampen the mood; it’s good the professor had opted for an indoor celebration! I do hope you had a good time and enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah,” Akari began to pick the few remaining scraps of colorful paper out of the carpet, though with a contradictory tone. “I did! It was really nice tonight.”

Ingo’s frown tugged slightly. He pulled down a bundle of streamers and crumpled them together, but he kept a careful eye on her. “…It was all alright, wasn’t it? Because I can understand if the whole, well, cake incident is still upsetting, what with no one actually being able to have any.”

“No, no-” Akari waved it off and turned away from him as Ember handed her a mouthful of paper she had picked up herself, though it also felt avoidant in nature. “Sorry, no, it’s not that. Really, that didn’t bother me! I’m just tired, I guess. It was a really late party!”

Ingo didn’t quite buy it with the way his features held tight. “Well then, that makes two of us I suppose.”

A couple times tonight near the party’s end, he had wondered if something was bothering her. It surely seemed so, but asking unobtrusive questions and gently inquiring if certain things were ok had come up with nothing but reassurances. But still, something felt wrong. As the evening went on, Ingo had been suspecting it went a little deeper.

And when the teen asked if he could possibly stay back and help her clean up, he was afraid it went even deeper than he initially suspected. Like, displaced-person-problems deep. Something he would come the closest to understanding out of everyone here. It was her birthday today after all, being spent in a time period she didn’t belong to. He could easily see it being a day of conflicting emotions, if that was the problem.

But Ingo didn’t know if Akari was simply seeking company from him, or conversation. And if it was as personal as he thought it was, he would never ask about it before she was ready. So for now, he would stick to the former, but he was prepared for the latter if she asked for it.

“Ok, I think that’s all of it.” cramming the last of the colorful paper scraps into a wad, Akari dropped the last of it into a bucket they’d been using for trash. Besides a table standing a little crooked, and a few chairs a little out of line against the wall, it seemed they had restored it to its previously-clean, empty state. “Thanks for staying after to help out, Ingo.”

“I was happy I could be of service,” Picking up the scraps-filled bucket and stuffing the streamers into it, Ingo went for the doorway and stood at the exit. “Before I dispose of this and depart, is there anything else you’d like any assistance with?”

Another chance for her to get out what was clearly weighing on her. But only if she wanted to. Grey eyes patiently watched her as she looked off to the side, clearly considering what to say.

“Um. I’ve got like, a ton of gifts downstairs.” Akari pointed down, in general reference to the floor below. “Would you be able to help me take them back to my unit? Normally I wouldn’t mind a couple trips, but the rain…”

Ingo gave her a flat-lined smile. “Not a problem at all. I’d be happy to help you carry the extra cargo.”

–––––

The drizzle was there to greet them all when Ingo pushed one of the Galaxy Hall’s doors open with his back, holding it open as Akari and Ember hurried out. Carefully going down the slippery steps, they hurried down the empty street to the teen’s unit, burdened with various birthday presents.

“Quiw!” Ember reached the door first, and eager to get out of the rain, squeezed through the moment Akari opened it by a crack. To the teen’s dismay, her Pokémon began shaking the freezing rain out of her fur with a vicious full-body shake.

“Ember, no! You’re supposed to do that outside!” Akari scolded the quilava as she opened the door the rest of the way, but she already seemed resigned to the fact she’d have to dry the floor and walls off later. She opened up her damp blue hanten, now bulging considerably with boxy shapes, to quickly remove the gifts she had sheltered inside it. At least they were still dry.

Ingo stepped into the doorway after her, holding his own similarly-bulging coat closed around the rest of the gifts. Akari retrieved a towel and began to chase after a protesting Ember with it as the warden placed her presents down near the door, but he then stepped back out to wait under the unit’s eave. He wanted to minimize how much rain he tracked inside – he wouldn’t add to the trails of puddles that Akari and Ember were currently leaving all across the floor.

“Ember! You’re dripping everywhere!”

“Qwill!”

Akari was completely absorbed in catching her Pokémon, Ingo could see. He supposed part of him had been curious if she had wanted him to come with her so she could share what had been bothering her – maybe she just hadn’t wanted to say anything at the party, which was understandable.

But now he supposed not, and that was ok. Maybe she’d share another day. Or maybe not at all. But regardless, he had given enough openings for it, so it was now entirely up to her on if she wanted to share or not.

“Well,” Ingo cleared his throat, “I suppose I should get going then, and leave you two to enjoy the rest of your night.” He pulled his cap down further over his eyes in anticipation of going back out into the rainfall. “But I’d like to say that I had a wonderful time at the party tonight, and thoroughly enjoyed being a part of it. I hope today’s celebrations made for a fulfilling and memorable day with those close to you, and I wish for even better ones in the future. Once again, happy birthday Miss Akari, and goodnight.”

“Wait! Ingo, wait-” Akari abandoned the chase. Throwing the towel at Ember (who was subsequently swallowed up by it in an instant), she came back to him. Arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed tightly as she hugged him. “Thank you. For being at the party, and for helping me after. And for the really nice birthday wishes too.”

“You’re very welcome.” Ingo returned the hug as best he could. “Sixteen is a special milestone, after all.”

The restraint that was Akari’s arms only tightened instead of loosening. She stood against him, turning her face into his tunic and let out a long sigh. She didn’t say anything immediately. Ingo wondered for a moment if he had said something wrong amongst those ten short words.

“...Sorry, I know you’re tired and you have stuff you gotta do tomorrow, and you’re trying to leave,” She finally looked up at him. “But, would you mind sticking around for a second? It won’t take that long. But, um, I can make us some tea.”

So she did want to talk to him.

Ingo’s frown once again pulled into a neutral line, his eyes indicating a reassuring smile behind the shade of his hat’s brim. He would certainly be tired tomorrow, but he found that didn’t bother him much in this moment. “Of course.”

—————

“I… don’t believe I follow. What do you mean it didn’t count?”

“I mean it didn’t count, because today can’t actually be my birthday. Like I didn’t actually turn sixteen today.”

With one hand absentmindedly stroking alongside Ember’s back as she curled further into his lap, Ingo watched Akari take the steaming tea kettle from off the irori. The warmth from the pit was a welcome heater against the cold breeze of the cracked-open window behind him — he would have preferred it closed, but Akari liked to listen to the rain. “But today is the date of your birthday, correct? Did we get it wrong? Oh dear, I… I apologize profusely if we did!”

Firsthand embarrassment crept close. No one ever liked to have the date of their birthday forgotten, or gotten wrong. Secondhand embarrassment trailed behind. He knew Akari would never have the heart to tell everyone they got the wrong day after everything they had planned. It must have been so awkward to know the whole time and not say anything for everyone else's sake; no wonder Akari seemed so bothered today.

“Woah, no, it’s nothing like that!” Akari briefly stopped pouring the tea, surprised at how flustered Ingo seemed to get. “Sorry! No, you guys didn’t get it wrong! And I mean technically, today is my birthday. But it's also… not?”

“...While that is certainly a relief, I’m afraid I am still in the dark.” Ingo insisted.

She had told him once that some things felt wrong, like her name. It hadn’t seemed wrong and she certainly felt it as her own, but for all she could remember, she could never recall the name ever leaving the mouth of her friends or family during moments with them. Not even her mother.

She had considered when she was put here, some personal information had been messed with in her memory to ‘protect’ things. She said it would make sense if her name was one of those things. She also said maybe she was entirely wrong and had watched too many time-travel sci-fi movies, a concept he could only dimly recall once re-explained at length.

Ingo couldn’t tell her if she was right or wrong about that. But he was aware of her thoughts on this by now, and he wondered if she had begun to suspect if her birth date was one of those altered things as well.

Setting the kettle back over the irori and getting up with the two cups of tea, Akari handed one to Ingo as she sat down next to him against the wall. Ember, who had previously been comfortable in Ingo’s lap, immediately abandoned him for Akari’s instead. “Um, ok. Let me try and think of how to explain this… Oh, wait- I have stuff I’ve written-”

Leaning over Ember, Akari reached into her satchel, now placed near her bed. She pulled out her Pokédex and set it across her quilava’s back. Ingo, both intrigued and surprised, sat forward to get a better look. She had written things down about this? He watched her flip through the back pages until she reached the sections she had been looking for.

Notes. Dates. Scribbled out nothings. Timelines of the year by its months. Arrows, jumping backwards and forwards on said timelines. Numerous question marks etched deep and dark with frustration.

Page after page. Attempt after attempt trying to understand.

Ingo blinked, keeping down a reflexive mouthful of questions. Whatever this was, it had been bothering her for a long time, clearly. And she had been trying to figure it out by herself the whole time, because this was the first he had heard or seen anything about it.

“Ok, so I remember that before I was put here, when I was still at home, it was almost spring. It was at the beginning of the year, nowhere close to my birthday! But after I got here, and I first showed up on Prelude Beach,” Akari held up the Pokédex, tapping at the page. “I learned that here, it was almost fall. And only a few weeks after my birthday!”

She was tapping at one of the many timelines she had made that took up two pages, surrounded by notes and question marks, and overall seeming to be one of the simpler ones. All of the months of the year, in chronological order. There was a blue dot on March, and on August, a red dot — an arrow connected the former to the latter.

“I skipped like, five months ahead into the year when I was brought here. Kind of. I went back in time, but like, that doesn’t affect my age, does it? So looking at it that way, I really just kind of lost five months, if I went straight from March to August?” The notes lost Akari’s gaze as she blinked up at Ingo, as if wondering if she was even making any sense to him. “Right?”

“Uhm,” while the diagram she had written out certainly helped visualize the jumble somewhat, this was still a lot for Ingo to process. He sat back, scratching under his hat with one hand. “I might require another run-through or two to fully comprehend it, but I believe I’ve grasped the gist of it. That seems probable.”

Perhaps it was because he himself had no birthday, year, date, or even season of his own to compare with as a reference point anyways, but he’d never really given much thought to something like this. It made sense though, he thought. Just because someone went back in time on a certain day, doesn’t mean they’d show up in the past on that exact same day, down to the second. Akari certainly could have showed up here, with the year five months ahead from when she left her own time.

Not that it even mattered much, but maybe something like that had happened to him as well.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I know all of this sounds so confusing, and all these scribbles probably aren’t helping. It was hard trying to figure this out with nothing but books to use as reference.” Akari seemed to become self-conscious of her rant; she closed her Pokédex and set it down at her side, replacing it with her cup of tea. “But I know dates aren’t the same. It was technically my birth-day today, yes, but not my birthday . It hasn’t been an actual year since my last birthday. I honestly don’t count myself as turning sixteen for another five months.”

“Well, I can understand the conflicting emotions with the celebrations now.” Ingo swallowed down a long sip of tea in order to verbalize his sentiments. He did not understand, though. Not entirely. When he listened to her talk, he heard confusion, and perhaps a little self-directed frustration. He didn’t exactly hear the well-hidden sadness he saw at the party.

This didn’t feel like it was all of it. But he was beginning to suspect he knew what the rest of it was, and he would not broach it himself.

“It was entirely unintended, I’m sure you understand, but all the same, I’m sorry to hear that the party brought up unwanted reminders.” He added on another statement to address it as best he could, more genuine to his true thoughts. “I’m sure the others would be too, if they were aware.”

“I know, I know… and I feel bad about that.” Akari confessed. “But they didn’t know. And I don’t want them to.” She looked down into her tea. “It wasn’t like, obvious that I was bothered at the party, was it Ingo?”

“Not particularly,” He half-lied. It certainly hadn’t been obvious, but it had been enough for him to suspect something, at the very least. He couldn’t speak for anyone else though, and he doubted anybody would ever be able to guess the reason if they did notice anything. “I don’t believe anyone would suspect themselves as the cause of your troubles.”

“You were asking me a lot tonight if I was ok.”

“An exploding birthday cake can be quite a distressing matter.”

The dry humor got a little laugh out of Akari. “…Yeah, ok. But. It’s just…”

Ingo waited.

“I don’t know,” she stumbled, though Ingo could see she very clearly knew. “The party wasn’t really the problem. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate everything they did, because I really did! I know it took a lot of work! But… I dunno.” She stumbled again. “You saw the party tonight. It was huge! And it’s not like it wasn’t super fun, because it was, or that it was too much for me or anything, because it wasn’t , but I kind of just…”

Akari shrugged, looking off to the side. Ingo watched her, patient as she set her cup down on the windowsill behind them and began fidgeting with her scarf.

“I don’t know, I guess I wished my mom had been here to celebrate it too.” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Even though I know that’s impossible right now. I just didn’t want her to miss it. Or more like do it without her, I guess. She would always talk about how turning sixteen was so big and so important, and it was going to be a special milestone. Just like what you said earlier.”

Oh. So it was something he had said.

“I think my mom was looking forward to this birthday more than I was!” Akari continued. “SO I felt bad that I did it without her. And I really miss her a lot, all the time. And I know she doesn’t know what happened to me. And I’m worried about that, and I just… Yeah. I didn’t want her to miss it.”

Ingo bit the inside of his cheek; it was what he suspected it to be – missing her family. Her mother.

But despite all the growing suspicion he let build up inside him over the course of the night, shamefully, he still wasn’t quite sure what to say. Akari’s mother was rarely the topic of their discussions, on account of the teen’s own emotional distress over it. Ingo never tried to bring it up on his own, and treated it with caution the few times she would bring it up herself, but it meant words always came slowly and with much difficulty when they would turn to it.

“That’s why today just can’t be my birthday. I want to be back with my mom by the time it actually is.” Akari kept handling the fabric of her scarf. “Because tonight I just kept thinking about how she was missing it. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever have something like that again. And I’m afraid that she thinks that too.”

“Oh, Miss Akari,” Ingo set down his own cup as she looked back up at him, sniffing with newly-misted eyes that threatened to well up. The sign that that was all she was going to say on the matter, and she was done. He opened his arm when she leaned closer to him, and she slumped into his side at the invitation, rubbing at her eyes to catch anything before it could fall. “I’m so sorry, I know you miss her dearly.”

A child separated from their mother. A mother who doesn’t know what happened to their child, or if their child is dead or alive, and is only more inclined to assume the former as time goes on. Except the child is not, and has no way to reassure the mother, or comfort her — no way to tell her she’s still alive, and that she hopes she doesn’t somehow suspect it’s her fault, and that she’s thinking of her every day while trying to find a way back to her.

It should not be this way.

But it is.

Ingo’s heart hurt; did he leave behind some terrible situation like this as well? Broken hearts and unanswered questions? It was easier for him to forget possibilities like this sometimes, when memories were not there to remind him of them.

“I do.” The teen settled more comfortably, rubbing at her eyes again when Ember reached up to lick at any stray tears. Her voice was shaky, but not uncontrolled — she took a deep breath to regain it. “It is really hard.”

Gears were turning in Ingo’s head, trying to figure something out. What could he say to this? She had been upset to the point of tears, and he wanted to comfort her. But he could not offer a promise to her, telling her she’d get back to her own time, see her mother again, and celebrate with her the way she wanted. Because as much as he wanted it to happen for her, he just did not know if it would. And Akari knew he did not know. Telling her something like that would just be empty, and maybe even painful. And he felt that lamenting the ghosts within white-out memories was a different kind of heartache compared to the vivid grieving over separation from one’s mother. Or maybe it was. But he didn’t know if in trying to console her with relatability, he would end up referencing too much loss, or not enough. What could he possibly-

“But it’s been easier. With you around.”

All the overworked lines speeding through Ingo’s mind halted. “...Oh?”

“I mean, you’re like the only other person in this entire world that can understand this whole thing right now. Like, really understand it. Even though I know they’ll listen, I don’t really know how to bring this stuff up to other people sometimes, because these aren’t things that anyone can really help.” Akari went on, seemingly not even noticing that he had mentally stalled. “Like I obviously couldn’t tell Rei or the Professor the party made me feel like this after all the time they spent putting it together for me, that would be terrible. And I don’t know how obvious it was, but I kind of took a long time working myself up to even tell you tonight. Even though to me, you’re like my, um…”

A very heavy pause as she mulled over her words.

“...I don’t know, my time-travel buddy here.”

Akari pet Ember as she talked, who by now had settled back into her lap, seeing as there were no more tears. Ingo found some appropriate humor in the title she gave him, but was otherwise quiet. She wasn’t finishing her sentences with a tone that suggested she was really done; it seemed like she kept wanting to say more but was cutting herself short.

“So… thank you for listening to all that. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to that really understands what I’m talking about.” Was all that came out instead, all that summarized her feelings on the matter. “I just wanna say I’m glad you’re here too, so I don’t feel so out of place, or lost, here.”

Ingo took in a breath, ready to thank her for such kind words and add in a reassurance that yes, he was there for her, but it seemed the moment of silence had led to quick reflection, then overthinking; Akari became noticeably flustered, suddenly leaning off of his shoulder to sit up straight.

“I mean, wait, no-” She stumbled. “I’m… I’m not saying I’m like, happy you ended up here just to make me feel more comfortable or anything, of course not! It’s terrible that it happened, especially the way it did! Obviously! I’m just-”

A pause to gather her thoughts.

“I’m… thankful I have someone else who can understand my situation, and helps me. And I’m not alone in this. Is what I’m trying to say. If that makes sense.” Akari finally killed her choppy ramble by taking a hasty sip of her tea.

“I understand,” Ingo tried to reassure the flush of embarrassment on the teen’s face; it hadn’t come across like that at all. “And as long as we’re being honest, I must admit I hold similar sentiments.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. Staring at the square of dim moonlight stretched across the floor from the window behind them, he watched the shadows that the rainfall projected as it came down outside. She told him she appreciated that he listened and talked through these things with her, but he hadn’t said much of anything yet. Well, now it was time to do that.

“I hope I’ve been transparent enough about just how much your arrival has changed my tracks for the better.” He started slowly, idly turning his cup of tea in his fingers. “From when I first arrived here until our routes crossed, I felt… entirely derailed. You know that. I’m even sure you can recall that disposition from when our tracks first crossed.”

“Yes,” Akari slowly allowed herself to settle back against his shoulder. She didn’t really give their first meeting much thought these days. Looking back, it felt polarizing to compare him to the man she had first been introduced to, now paling as distant and directionless in comparison to how he was now.

“But I’ve regained an amount of myself that I thought was indefinitely lost due to your assistance. I know that I lived in a time period comparable to yours, if not the very same — wouldn’t that be something?”

It had to be the very same, Akari just knew it was.

“I also know that I conducted many exciting battles alongside someone who enjoyed them just as much as I did, if not more. And I know that this someone was similar to me in many ways, and very dear to me. Perhaps family, from what I’ve gathered at this point. And while the identities and locations are still quite blurred, I’ve recovered many fragments that indicate I was fortunate enough to be loved by friends and family, seemingly up until my sudden derailment.”

Akari recalled the times when Ingo first remembered these things. When she first helped him recover shards of these cracked but significant recollections, whether purposely or accidentally.

He always cried.

Whether that was uncontrollably in the moment with her, or later in the evenings when he had resigned himself to the privacy of Lady Sneasler’s den, there were always tears.

She knew it hurt him to recall such loving, warm, comforting memories when all his situation did was serve as a reminder that it was out of reach, had been for a long time, and may still be for much longer. Questioning if it would ever be felt again by the same people who extended so much love to him, and he couldn’t even do them the decency of remembering their faces. Weaponized grief accusing him that it had all been taken for granted – that it hadn’t been appreciated enough back then.

Akari knew, because she would cry over similar things when she was alone at night, sometimes.

But she could do that. She was a teenager. Teenagers could cry.

Ingo was an adult. Adults could cry too, but it always felt harder to deal with when it was them. Especially when it was Ingo. Ingo, someone who always comforted her. Ingo, who didn’t cry.

At least, he didn’t before he started regaining these memories that she’d helped recover.

“But, it…” Akari looked down into her cup of tea, conflicted. In a way, she felt like Ingo was thanking her for simultaneously helping and hurting him. “I mean, it feels like-” She didn’t know how she wanted to phrase it. “-I know it hurts a lot sometimes, to remember. Would you… knowing what you know now, would you rather not have, um…”

It seemed Akari was becoming disheartened with the question, probably beginning to find it an insensitive question to ask. Ingo understood what she was getting at, and she realized that.

“Nevermind,” she finally ended the struggle and cut herself off. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” Ingo reassured her. “It can be quite hard, yes, to know what I’ve been removed from. It weighs heavy on my heart when I stop to reflect on it. But I know I have something to return to now. And while it can be painful at times, it is, to me, a welcome change from the plaguing hollowness of loss and confusion. I would not have, well… myself without you, and for that I am immensely grateful.”

It was heartening to see his words put her at ease, but he realized he was getting off track from what he was trying to express.

“ Ahem, all of this is to say; likewise, Miss Akari, if I had any say in the matter, I would not wish for you to be displaced here either. Yet you are. And as unfortunate as it might feel sometimes, all one can do is make the best of their situation. And there was nothing either of us could have done about our destination, but your presence at this station is a pleasant one, both in company and agency.” Ingo cleared his throat. “I am thankful for our friendship.”

“Me too…” Akari sounded almost choked up again, her voice quiet. “ See, you always know what to say. Thank you.”

The ambience of the rainfall against the unit’s eave became prevalent as conversation died. They sat like that for a while. Whether listening to the rain or replaying the conversation in her head, Ingo didn’t know what it was that Akari was doing. But the relative darkness in the room, the internal warmth of the tea, and the relaxing pattering of rain against the roof outside was a very dangerous combination for him. His eyes were already growing heavy, he should probably get going before he falls aslee-

“Hey Ingo,” The warden started when he felt a bony elbow suddenly nudge him in the side. “When we both get back, I’m gonna have another birthday party, one on my actual sixteenth birthday, with my mom there so that she doesn’t miss anything this time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ingo yawned, sitting forward to help rouse himself from the weakening grip of sleep. She was treating an ‘if’ like a ‘when’, and he sometimes warned her about doing that, but he found that right now especially, he couldn’t not indulge her a little.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna have tons of balloons, streamers and confetti everywhere.” Akari leaned her head against his shoulder to look back at him. “Like so much, even five days after the party, you’ll sneeze and confetti will still come out.”

“Every proper birthday party needs that.” Ingo couldn’t help but huff a laugh through his nose at the visual she’d constructed. “What colors for the theme?”

“Everything’s gonna be blue, of course!” She knew that he knew her favorite color would be the only choice. “You know that! Oh, and also, one birthday cake that’s the size of two! To make up for the one that exploded today!”

“What flavor?”

“Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. So everyone can have a flavor they like. And-” Akari sat up and fully turned to him, like this next part was serious. “I'm gonna have every single one of my friends and family come. So that means you’re going to be invited too! And anyone else you wanna bring! I’ll get to introduce you to everyone there!”

Ingo smiled. Because it did sound nice, truely. But the small smile quickly dulled. Indulgence aside, he didn’t want to encourage setting herself up for hurt. “You know I would love to. And if I can, I certainly will. However… Miss Akari, I truly hate to bring it up, but please be mindful of what we’ve talked about. I wouldn’t want there to be… any hurt. In case our tracks do not run as close as expected.”

Hopeful prospects built upon skewed expectations are terribly vicious if time reveals those expectations are wrong. It would leave deep wounds if they did go back to their own times, only to be separated by a gate of decades that stretched so far, they’d only ever be able to assume that’s what had happened, and never know for sure. But it would hurt more if they had convinced themselves that would not happen and took that as fact.

And so Ingo did not.

And while Akari had said over and over that she did not either, he could tell that really, deep down, she did.

And all of this wasn’t even considering the very real possibility that Ingo might not have a ticket back home like she did. She had told him time and time again that she’d drag him back by the arm if she had to, and stop anything that tried to keep her from doing so, but… what was a teenager against the Unknown?

“I know, I know.” Akari said it with concerning brevity. “But we have to come from the same time. How could we not? You also know what Pokémon gyms are, and contests! And you actually know what double battles are, too. And you know what cellphones are, and pizza, and video games!”

“It is… convincing.” Even though it was more vague than anything that narrowed things down to decades, not a single year, Ingo decided to just leave it there for now. This was not something to talk about at length tonight. Not after all she had just told him.

“So you’re gonna need to come! I really want to introduce you to my mom. I know she’d wanna meet you after all you’ve done for me! Knowing her, she’d probably try and repay you with tons of home-baked things, and I need to warn you she’s going to hug you with the strength of an ursaring trap.”

“Ah, well now I know where you get that from.”

A quick, simple sentence said without much of a tone, but Akari caught the humor of it. She laughed into her tea. “No, hers are like three times as strong as mine!”

With her leaning into her cup, Ingo did not see the playful look she gave him in the stretch of silence.

“And, just thought you’d like to know, she’s single too…”

“O-oh-” Ingo found himself sitting forward suddenly, his ears steaming hot with sudden embarrassment at the implication. Arceus, of all the ways for her to confirm his suspicions that a father probably wasn’t present. Surely not- “I- no no, with all due respect Miss Akari, I don’t think that would-!”

“Kidding, kidding, I’m kidding!” The teen shouted in between laughs, pushing his shoulder playfully and giving him a big, stupid smile. “Geez, you’re always so easy! I know! That wouldn’t work anyways, you’re like… the weird, distant uncle I didn’t find out about until like a year ago, if anything.”

“Weird uncle?” Ingo snorted at the notion, perhaps a bit too loudly — he hadn’t been expecting that, but it was certainly less heart attack-inducing than the former proposition.

“Yes!” Taking his laughter as disagreement more than surprise, Akari shoved his arm again. “I mean, you let me do a lot of things that I don’t think responsible parents would let kids do-”

“Because I’m- I’m not your parent,” Ingo hastily tried to correct her, still somewhat processing the topic. “And I’m not letting you, I’m simply ensuring you’re performing the proper safety checks when doing them!”

One would have much more success trying to properly equip her with tools and knowledge than to try and stop her from doing anything she was set on doing. Anyone who knew Akari well enough would know that.

“Yeah, well, I know my mom would kill me if she knew of all the dangerous things I was doing, and you don’t. There.” The teen poked him several times to drive her point home. “That’s what uncles do. And, you respond to my jokes with more jokes, and you like all my pranks-”

“I wouldn’t say all of them,” Ingo squeezed in, shaking his head but allowing himself to laugh a little.

“-and you let me hang around you like every time I come by, and you listen to my problems, and you help me when I need it-”

“You make it out to be a chore, I assure you it’s not-”

“-and! And! I don’t know how you do it, but you can fall asleep anywhere within like, thirty seconds.” Akari started snickering, looking back at him to see his reaction. “You were doing it like two minutes ago! I’ve only ever seen three types of people do that.” She began numbering off with her fingers, “Dads, uncles, and grandpas. You kind of best qualify for the latter in that area because you’re like, super super old, but…”

“Hey!” Now it was Ingo’s turn to nudge her with his arm – she was already joking with him again. She laughed more freely this time, quickly settling back against his shoulder.

“Point is, you’re um, kind of what I wished my actual uncle would have been like when I was growing up… if that’s not too forward to say. You’re the weird, distant uncle. Except the weird is a good weird, and the distant part wasn’t your fault. I appreciate that you um, basically look out for me here. It helps with missing my mom.” She finished, ending it by returning to her cup for another long sip of tea.

What a confession.

Ingo had known she had grown very attached to him over the months, and he could not deny he had done the same. She had made it very easy, he supposed; her frequent company filled time that had previously been spent alone, and those times were much happier now. And while he had grown to feel some sense of responsibility over her – she did often follow advice or guidance from him anymore, so logically there was some responsibility there – but he hadn’t thought much past it. He never felt like he had to.

However, she basically just admitted she felt like his ward, if he could compare it to anything. He had not known she had grown to see him like that, exactly – he wasn't sure he even saw himself like that – or when that had even first begun.

But it was comforting, in a way. Whether he had a spouse or children before Hisui, he did not know – he very much doubted it, but realistically, he didn’t know for sure. And siblings? Or parents? The scratched-out faces and names that haunted his cracked memories never made it clear. Those people could have been family, but they could have also been just close friends, and while that was certainly family in its own way, it was… hard, not really knowing.

And although he certainly did consider the Pearl Clan his family in Hisui, eternally indebted to Irida and the rest of the clan for their kindness to him, the circumstances of his acceptance had unfortunately felt purely obligatory or pitiful by some. It felt... different. And he didn't know if that would ever change.

So it was nice to hear someone call him family.

Akari had never said that phrase explicitly, but basically confessing of her own volition that she saw him as a member of hers was, in all honesty, painfully consoling and cathartic.

Ingo realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He turned to address the teen; she was sipping the last of her tea, but her cheeks were pink now, eyes down as she pet Ember with her other hand – she had grown self-conscious of her vulnerability in his silent processing, perhaps thinking he didn’t reciprocate the proposed connection. Or worse, he thought she was clingy for it.

She had confessed everything to him that she’d held back earlier, hadn’t she?

“Well, I am glad to know I live up to the expectations then, Miss Akari.” He made sure to give her a smile, still turned down in the corners but clearly, genuinely happy with his eyes. “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

Very few words, but relieving and emotional all the same. Arms reached around his shoulders to give another steel trap hug. “Thank you. For that. And for talking with me tonight. I know I said it would be quick, but…”

“It’s quite alright. I’m glad we could talk as well.” Ingo picked it up when she trailed off, squeezing her back with an arm in a side hug.

Weird uncle.

Yeah, he supposed he could get used to that.

“Ok then, you’re definitely going to need to come to my real birthday party now, no way you can’t.” Akari finally let go of him. Ember leapt off her lap and onto the floor as she moved to stand up and collect both of their tea cups, now empty. “And you’re gonna have to start showing up to family barbecues too! And your own family’s gotta come too, so you can introduce them to mine, and we can get even more get-togethers!””

She was joking, but he could tell she also was not. Another pang of future uncertainty dampened the sentiments, but Ingo looked past it as he made his own move to get back to his feet, and help her put everything away. “I can certainly try my best to do so.”

Hmm. His own family too.

His heart ached. He did wish he could remember them. He found himself wanting to meet them just as much as Akari did, if not more. (Surely though, he did.)

A part of him once again wondered if they missed him the way he missed them. Or the way Akari missed her mother.

—————

“Thank you, Elesa. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Please, don’t even mention it! You know I’d never pass up another opportunity to drag you around with me.”

Emmet pulled his cap down over his eyes as he stepped out of his apartment to join his friend. After he locked the door, the two of them began to make their way down the stairs to the street below. “Though I’m happy to go with you, I'm sorry to hear about Skyla. That was very unfortunate timing.”

“It really was; she said she’s already feeling better, though! She just told me to tell you to enjoy the premiere for her.” Elesa hooked her arm around Emmet’s as they continued down the steps.

It genuinely had been unfortunate timing for Skyla to catch a cold only a few days before the premiere of Pokéstar Studios’ newest movie that Elesa had a part in. But even if she hadn’t, herself and Elesa had long before agreed that they were going to come up with an excuse to take Emmet in her place anyways.

His birthday was not until tomorrow, and while many things had been planned with friends and family to occupy the day with good times and love, Elesa did not want him confining himself to his dark apartment tonight. Things were often just as painful the day before, as well.

“Skyla’s name is on the ticket.” Emmet absentmindedly observed as she handed the decorated slip to him. The dozen pokeballs within his coat weighed heavy for a moment. “And all of my Pokémon will be there, not Skyla’s. Will I have to show them ID or something?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it when we get there.” She reassured him. “Again, last-minute stuff, but I can work that out pretty easily.”

“Mmm,” Emmet hummed. That seemed like it would be his only response. But as he continued to scrutinize the name on the ticket, he spoke up again. “It’s ok, Elesa. I know that this was not last minute.”

While she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, Elesa also couldn’t say this wasn’t unexpected. Emmet had always been very good at picking up on things.

She just didn’t want him to think this was being done out of pity or anything.

Which maybe part of it was, how could it not be? But moreso, Emmet was her friend. And she wanted him to have something to think about other than grief tonight.

“I’ve been saying it’s last-minute too much, haven’t I?” She asked, seeming a little rueful.

“Yes, you have.” Emmet sounded almost amused as they continued down the steps. If he was bothered, he certainly wasn’t showing it. “But you also have not said a thing to me about my birthday all week. That is verrry unlike you.”

Harassing himself and Ingo with silly cards, gaudy gifts, and at least one big activity the week of their birthdays. Making Ingo and Emmets’ birthdays a week-long, inescapable reminder of the big day they shared was Elesa’s style of celebration. Not this.

But to be fair, just like how this year was… a first for Emmet, it was a first for her too. It was a first for everyone. Emmet understood why she was walking on eggshells – their birthdays had very much been an Ingo-and-Emmet thing. One was not without the other, ever.

Except this year, it was.

It was understandable why people would be nervous to bring it up to him in all the ways they had before. They were afraid it would serve as a reminder that someone was not there anymore to celebrate it with him. And they were right, it would. But while Emmet appreciated the sensitivity, he didn’t want a careful birthday where everyone was afraid of how to handle him. It wasn’t intended, but it would be demeaning.

“I’m sorry, Emmet. I just didn’t really… know how to do it this year.” Elesa confessed what he had already known. They were practically at the bottom of the stairs now. “And I didn’t want to say or do anything that would be- I didn’t want you to be alone, or thinking of anything that’ll hurt right now. I just want you to feel as loved and appreciated as you are, not sad. Not on your birthday.”

“I do feel loved.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs and stepping onto the sidewalk, Emmet stopped so that they could talk face-to-face for a moment. “Tonight I was invited to an event that was very much not planned last-minute, with my dear friend, to see a movie that she is in. And tomorrow, I will get to spend the entire day with friends and family. And even after that, when I am back in my apartment, I have all of my Pokémon, who need me as well. You all do a verrry good job of making me feel loved. It is a good birthday already.”

“Oh Emmet,” Elesa let go of his arm to reach out for him. She settled into his shoulder as she gently hugged around his neck. Emmet reciprocated, arms secured around her back.

Emmet knew tomorrow was going to be different. Difficult, certainly. For the first time, only half of him would be there. The reminders were still daily and constant, but tomorrow they were going to be a little sharper, a little more poignant. He couldn’t avoid that. But he did not want to try and bury it – he had already slipped into that once before, and learned how destructive and painful it was. And he certainly didn’t want others to feel like they needed to as well for his sake. He was hurting, and a part of him always would regardless, but he was not fragile.

“And it is ok to talk about Ingo.” Emmet spoke into Elesa’s shoulder. “It will be his birthday tomorrow too. And even if he is not right here at this moment, I would not want him to be excluded from it.”

“Alright,” There was relief in the way she sighed, squeezing him a little harder.

“Thank you, Elesa.” Separating from the hug, Emmet gave her a reassuring smile, though it was not without a hint of melancholy. “You are a very good friend.”

At the edge of the sidewalk, a sleek black car pulled up to them and stopped, engine thrumming quietly.

“Oh, that’s for us,” Sniffing, Elesa carefully wiped at her eye and cleared her throat. “You know, Emmet, I’m really…” She stopped, seeming to think better of it. No more apologies or condolences for tonight, she was supposed to be cheering him up. “...I’m glad you could come with me tonight.”

“I am too, very much.” Emmet seemed doubly grateful for the lighter change of topic. He followed her as she led him over to the car, and opened the backseat door for her. “I have not gone with you to one of these in a while! Last time was several years ago when you took Ingo and me with you to see that terribly cheesy rom-com you had a cameo in.”

“Well, funny you should bring that up,” A bit of Elesa’s playfulness slowly began to show itself again, a smile brightening her features as she scooted across the seat to make room for him. “Because lucky for you, tonight’s movie is also a romantic comedy!”

“Blech!” Emmet made an exaggerated gagging sound as he stepped into the car after her, which sent Elesa into a fit of laughing while he closed the door. “I will be watching this for you, not for the romance!”

131 notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 5 months

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🗑️ Creep Johnny this, creep Johnny that. What I want is a creepy Simon. Like he just walks up to Johnny and is like "I think you buy a new couch" and soaps like wtf are you talking about? And when he's on leave he gets home and sure enough his couch has a broken spring.

Simon sends him the exact amount of money he needs to purchase the couch he was JUST looking at on his laptop- since when did simon get his personal address? Or his bank info????

Then Simon just starts. Saying the weirdest shit. Like "the freckles on your taint are cute." Like what??? Not even going to pretend to NOT be looking? And sometimes he'll comment about Johnny wearing less boxer briefs on missions (how does he know it's not like Johnny strips to his underwear and shows off to his l.t. so how does the man know?) Or how he doesn't like Johnny's shower curtains.

And then Simon sends him a selfie (mask on ofc) of himself half naked in Johnny's home bathroom while the man himself is still on base.

And then shit just gets downright strange. He'll come home from base, and find that half his clothes are stuffed into one side of his closet, the other half filled with shit too large for him to wear, smelling like his lieutenant. There's extra toothbrushes, trinkets lying around, food he doesn't usually like in his fridge.

And then the next day Simon walks in with his duffle bag filled with his stuff and acts like they've been living together forever??? His name is somehow also on their lease??

He tries to talk to his family about it but they're all like "Oh, Simon? That nice fellow who visited us while you were deployed? He mentioned being your boyfriend, he was such a nice fellow."

And Johnny just has to live with it. Because he suddenly got saddled with a giant buff boyfriend who he kinda had a crush on so is it really THAT bad?? In the grand scheme of things, Simon could have been A LOT worse, knowing that freak of nature.🗑️

ghost harassing and violating soap will ALWAYS be famous

there have GOT to be a million fics with this general plot and trashy i would LOVE to recommend them to you but unfortunately i am woefully naive to the ghoap fanfictions of ao3. someone send recs

i love ALL OF THIS & im going to add some of my own thoughts but i'm not like. changing your idea lol (btw i love when you said "then it gets strange" as if the first part wasnt strange lmao)

i looove the idea of everyone else on base being super uncomfortable around ghost but not helping johnny out at all with his very obvious obsession because they're just like "better you than me buddy". they're in a large meeting and ghost literally lifts johnny off of his own chair and sets him in his lap, tucks a hand up under his shirt and gropes his pec, and literally everyone is just like "doo doo doo... nothing happening over there..."

im also obsessed with the idea of ghost not even TRYING to act like he's not stalking soap. he's loud and proud about using johnny's toothbrush after him for just a TASTE of his boy. he's jacking off in soap's shampoo and will mention it in front of other people. ghost will look soap dead in the eyes and say "washed your laundry yet? don't. i want your boxers for tonight" and just WALK AWAY

alssososooooooooo ghost moving into soap's house without asking!??!?!? are you insane!?!??!?!!? just absolutely refuses to leave, doesn't understand why soap's so angry, refuses to acknowledge his discomfort. will kick johnny out of his own bed when he starts being too bad :/ starts changing things to his own preference, just scoffs and rolls his eyes when johnny complains

#asks and answers #🗑️ anon #ghoap

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mayajadewrites · 30 days

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Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Ten: Falling

The next morning you and Levi find yourself at the breakfast buffet, the warmth of the sun kissing your tanned skin. You have 3 more days in paradise and you're soaking up all the warmth while you can.

Since last night, Levi has been a bit softer with you. You woke up wrapped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against your chest. You almost didn't want to get out of bed because of how peaceful he looked. You studied the dark circles under his eyes, thinking about how he probably doesn't sleep much. If he does, it's short lived.

"What did you want to do today?" Levi took a sip of his tea. You eyes scan down to his upper body - his chest dressed with a linen white shirt with two buttons undone.

"Hm..." You tap your chin with your index finger. "Can we look at the shops? I saw some cute trinkets there that I think my sister would love."

Levi nods as he dabs his lips with his napkin. "Tell me more about your sister."

"What about her do you want to know?" You tilt your head to the right. Levi has never really shown that much interest in your personal life, besides things that he already knew.

"Anything."

"Well, she's 18 and very independent." You take a sip of water. "She's always been rambunctious and causing trouble, but I'm always there to pick up the pieces. I've been taking care of her since she was 6."

"6? So that means you were 16?"

"Yeah. I... left my parents and took her with me."

"That must've been a lot for you."

"Some days I don't remember how we even survived, if I'm being honest. My only goal was to get Alexis a stable home. I finished high school and took college courses through computers at our library. We stayed at a shelter until I could find us a cheap apartment."

Levi is absorbing all of this information. His eyes never leave yours, making sure you know he's listening. "You're very strong." He paused and looked towards the water, the ocean air invading his nostrils. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Nothing to be sorry about." You smile at Levi before pressing your lip gloss wand to your lips. Levi watches as you lather the clear, glittery substance on your pouty lips. His eyes wander to your curvy figure - your black sundress caressing every dip and curve on your body. "Did you enjoy breakfast?" You break his stare.

"It was... average. The tea could've been better."

"Is there a place that always makes your tea right?"

"Yeah. It's in Japan."

"Of course it is.

_________________________

"Levi, look at this!" You walk into one of the shops in the hotel. This hotel has a fucking mall inside of it, something you never thought you would've ever experienced. "They have vintage teacups!"

Levi put his hands in his pockets as he browsed the teacups, taking in all of the detail. You've never seen him so focused on something, so you're proud of yourself for bringing him in here. You watch him, feeling your heart beat a bit faster.

None of this is real.

This is a transaction.

Snap out of it.

"Do you see any that you want?" You bring yourself next to Levi. He glances down at you.

"I do. I'm having them sent to the house." Levi handed the cashier his black AMEX card. "I've only seen them in Japan."

"That's amazing." You smile at him. Your gazes catch each other and the both of you can feel your hearts skip a beat.

Levi clears his throat to break the tension that you're both feeling.

"Where to next?"

"I saw some cute bags over there." You point at a store across the way. You know Levi enjoys the luxuries of life, so why not indulge a little?

As you walk in the shop, Levi's large hand presses to the small of your break.

No affection outside of the bedroom, You remember him saying. You decide to test the limits- wrapping your arm around his bicep. His arms are a weakness of yours - the muscles look like they were carved by Greek Gods. Levi didn't move you, nor say anything.

"Aren't you two a beautiful couple?" The saleswoman said. "Are you looking for anything specific?"

"I like that bag." You point to a small, soft green structured bag thats in a display case. It was gold hardware, simple but so elegant. Levi nods in approval.

"We'll like that."

"We do free monogramming/engraving, did you want to do that?"

"Yes." Levi answered for you.

You raise your eyebrows as Levi walked toward the register. "You stay here."

As you wait, you watch Levi again. You feel your heartbeat quickening as his mouth moves when he speaks. You don't hear any words but you're engulfed in... him.

The slight tan in his skin, the way his shirt bellows over his muscles, the way his eyes are drawn to yours every other minute.

Is this what falling in love feels like?

Levi brings the bag over to you, smiling to himself.

"Why are you smiling?! What did you do!" You peek into the bag.

"Open it and see for yourself." Levi shoves his hands in his pockets.

You gently take the bag out of the bag, looking at the engraving that was done on the bag.

You see a simple L in the center below the straps. "L for Levi?" You smile at him.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." You press the bag to your chest, unsure if this a moment where you should hug him.

"I'm glad." He nods. You put the bag back in it's bag, gazing into his eyes. You're both almost hypnotized by each other as your bodies get closer.

"Levi," You breath, almost feeling his nose on yours.

"Mm?" He whispers as he presses his hand to your hip.

"I thought you said no affection outside of the bedroom." Your big, doe eyes land on his.

"Today we can ignore that rule." He gently takes the bag from you as he pulls your body into his. His hand trails to your ass, giving it a squeeze as his face leans into yours.

Your lips touch and it feels like a fire has been lit inside of you. This isn't a frenzied kiss, nor is it a peck. Levi moves his lips with purpose, taking care of every inch of your mouth. He squeezes your ass again, massaging it gently after. You wrap your arms around his neck, fully letting yourself fall into him. He pulls away gently, kissing your lips, nose, cheek, and forehead before turning to be on your side.

You still feel the ghost of his kiss on your lips and you know you want, no need to feel that sensation again. Your core is already feeling needy as he takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

Levi leans down to your ear, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear. "You knew what you were doing with that sundress, hm?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You giggle, pressing your hand to his forearm.

"If we weren't in public I would be-"

"Would be what?" You turn to him, pulling a hair behind your other ear. "Tell me what you want to do to me." You whisper, letting your lips hover against his as you turn to him.

"New rule." Levi pulled your hand as he started walking. "No dirty talk in public." He cleared his throat.

"Why?" You pick up your face as you look down and see exactly why that new rule has been enacted.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #ceo levi ackerman

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steddieunderdogfics · 1 month

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's wednesday #writers on tumblr #steddie writers #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 months

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Good Luck Charm - Chapter 27

Summary: Negan and Y/N finish up with their supply run before something happens that leads to an explosion of emotions between the two of them.

Characters: Negan, Y/N/reader (OC), Evie, Nathan, Laura, Simon, etc.

Warnings: Swearing, Severe Angst, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39423063/chapters/136254793

Notes: I'm sorry. There are still a handful of chapters after this one. But yeah. Thank you to those that still read this.

“I can’t believe we found a stash of twinkies in that office,” Negan spoke with a mouthful of the sweet treat that he had shoved into his mouth before starting to carry the supplies they found in the bar together to the car. “These things literally taste exactly the same no matter when you have them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good thing,” Y/N suggested, putting what she had grabbed into the car while Negan struggled to carry what he had. Helping him out, she let out an amused sound at the sight of the cream that Negan had over his face. “It’s all over your face.”

“Funny, I could have said the same thing to you a few minutes ago,” Negan snorted, a groan releasing from his throat when she hit him in the center of the chest. “What?”

“You’re not funny,” she swept her thumb in over his bottom lip and Negan grabbed a tight hold of her wrist. Bringing her hand up, he took her finger between his lips to suck off the remainder of the twinkie that was there. “You’re going to be upset when you have a stomachache later from all the twinkies you ate.”

“See, this is where I could make a joke about my cum in your belly, but…” Negan joked when she shoved him away from her. An amused rumble of laughter fell from his throat when she rolled her eyes. “Hey, I appreciated you keeping it as close to our first time as possible. As much as I love filling your pussy with my cum, I still enjoy coming down your throat on occasion at times.”

“Enough,” she begged of him, her face turning red and her laughter faint. “I get it.”

“I don’t know what you’re embarrassed about. It’s not like anyone is here,” Negan responded, throwing his hands up in the air to point around the small town around them. “This place was abandoned a very long time ago.”

“One day you are going to talk like this in front of our children,” she suggested and Negan threw his hands up in the air.

“How many times did Evie almost walk in on the two of us having sex when we were younger?” Negan countered and she huffed out loudly. Stepping forward, he hooked his arms around her and she gave him a glare. “Oh come on. Sex is a perfectly natural thing between two people.”

“That’s really not something to be proud of with Evie,” she smirked, her head resting against the center of Negan’s chest when he pulled her closer to him. “Our kids have had to grow up so fast, we should still allow them the chance to be children for as long as possible.”

“Yes mama. Now let’s go see if we can find some toys,” Negan grumbled under his breath, pressing a long kiss at her temple before pulling back. Grabbing Lucille from the car, Negan returned and held his hand out to Y/N waiting for her to accept it. Giving her a cheesy smile had her smirking and shaking her head. Taking his hand, she felt his fingers curling tightly around hers before he led her in the direction of the store. Once they got there, he observed the store closely and sighed. Pushing open the doors, a disgusted breath fell from Negan’s throat at the smell. Waving his hand in the air after releasing her hand, he moved further in to hear the faint sounds of growling. Stopping Y/N from walking in, he motioned her to wait at the front by the doors. It wasn’t a big store. It was a split-level store and it wasn’t hard to move from one end to another. Approaching the back of the store, he noticed a door that led to the storage area and there was a window where you could look into the back room. Inside he could see a group of walkers. It wasn’t a surprise really. They had been lucky so far on this trip, it was only a matter of time before they found some. Moving quietly, Negan headed toward the door noticing that there was a lock on it. Tugging on it, he made sure that it was on there tightly so they would be safe. Part of him was glad it was locked because there looked to be a lot of them in there. Someone had to have gathered them up and got them in there somehow. A loud boom was heard behind him and Negan immediately spun on his heel raising Lucille up. Shaking his head, Negan saw Y/N giving an apologetic look behind him and she frowned. “You’re really good at listening.”

“I don’t like the idea of standing in the doorway,” she responded with a sigh when she moved over toward the window area to look inside. “I think you found the source of the smell.”

“Maybe some of it,” Negan lifted his head to look at the roof of the store. There was a hole in the ceiling and he noticed the water damage that was done to some of the areas. “I think it’s a mix of them and the wood rotting from water damage.”

A rattling sound made Y/N jump and Negan caught her when she almost stumbled over one of the shelves. It was the walkers taking notice of them being in the store, hitting at the door that was locked. There was a sense of worry in her eyes and Negan helped her stand up straight on her feet, “Don’t worry. They are locked tightly in there. I made sure.”

“Are you positive?” she spoke up and Negan gave her a nod. Wiggling his fingers at her, Negan grabbed her hand when she made her way around the store with him. Stopping, Negan lifted his head to stare up at the second level. Moving over toward the stairs, Negan let out an uncomfortable sound and shook his head. “What is it?”

“You can just see the water damage has done a number on this side of the building. Let’s focus on the stuff over here. I think I would break my ass if I even tried to climb those stairs,” Negan nodded over toward the other part of the store for them to go look at things, but she stopped him before they could. “What?”

Motioning him to wait, she headed toward the back of the store where there were multiple windows to look outside, “God, that’s beautiful.”

“I see something much more beautiful standing right beside me,” Negan flirted with an arrogant bob of his head. When he went to steal a kiss from her, she grabbed a firm hold of his jaw and forced him to look out the window. Through the fogged window Negan knew immediately what she was attracted to about the sight. Behind the store was a hill that overlooked the water. They were both always drawn to big bodies of water. Things were overgrown, but you could still see a nice sight of the water from the window. “Yes, that’s very, very beautiful. But I still think you are much prettier.”

“I’m not having sex with you in here with the walkers,” she informed him and he scoffed. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not asking for more sex. The beast needs his rest anyways. I need to get rehydrated when we get back to The Sanctuary,” Negan tugged at her hand having her follow him throughout the store. Picking up random things for their children, Negan realized that this store had more left in it likely because toys weren’t exactly that important during an apocalypse. A lot of the time, he saw Y/N gazing up at the second floor of the store, but Negan had stressed multiple times that he was uncomfortable. They agreed that the first floor was the safest both for them and for their children. At the store Negan realized he was going full on dad-mode wanting to pick up everything and anything that he thought Nathan and Evie would like. When he piled something else in his arms, it made Y/N snicker. “I think it’s important we get more interactive toys for Nathan. We need to get that boy talking more.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Y/N gazed over the pile of toys that were in Negan’s arms. “I think you think there is something wrong with him, but there isn’t. He’s just very quiet and he observes a lot of things.”

“Yeah, but Evie was talking so much more at his age,” Negan thought back on his daughter letting out a loud sigh. “I worry that maybe he’s not had a lot of time getting to be social or work on learning things. I just want him to be able to express himself better and learn.”

“Well, if it helps you thinking about things, we are going to be living on the farm together. That means you are going to have all the time in the world to work on things with him,” she reminded Negan, grabbing a hold of his arm when she almost tipped over. They probably drank way too much at the bar together, her more than him, but they were still managing. Leaning up, she pressed a loving kiss over Negan’s cheek and he leaned into it. “The difference between Evie and Nathan is that Evie was surrounded by so many people from the start. The two of us and Lucille were always playing with her. We never put her down. And we had your family to help us. Nathan has just really had me and Evie. I’ve done my best, but when we go to the farm, I’m sure with you helping he will start to open himself up further.”

“I hope so,” Negan confessed, biting down on his bottom lip. Adjusting the toys in his arms, he could see that Y/N was gazing over him and he snickered. “What?”

“Why don’t you go put that in the car?” she suggested, realizing that his arms were full and he was struggling. “I’ll just look for some more things for Evie. We have a lot of younger toys for Nathan, but she’s going to be needing some things for her.”

“I can do that, but I did grab some stuff for her,” Negan reminded her, dropping his head down knowing that they were in the mix of things somewhere. “Are you going to be okay alone?”

“I was alone for three years without you,” she countered with an amused expression over her face and Negan grunted. “I’m just saying. I managed those three years, I’ll be fine.”

“And you have the gun that I gave you?” Negan double checked with her. It led to her patting her side where she had the holster attached to her pants and he smiled. “Just be careful. I’ll be really quick.”

“Quick like a bunny,” she smacked his ass as he walked by leaving him to gasp and almost drop some of the items.

“Mama, you are drunk as hell,” Negan looked back at her over his shoulder seeing her smile. “I think you had too much of a good time at that bar.”

“I am not drunk. I’m perfectly fine,” she refused, throwing her hands up in the air to deflect the comment. “You want sex all the time and it’s fine, I smack your cute little ass and I’m drunk?”

“Uh huh,” Negan snorted, his nose wrinkling in amusement. “I’ll be back.”

Snickering to himself, Negan headed toward the front of the store. Nudging the door open with his side, he made his way over to the car and put all of the toys carefully away. If there was anything else in this town, he was going to have to send his Saviors back because the car was getting pretty full.

The sound of shuffling made Negan lift his head up and he half expected to see Y/N returning. When he saw nothing, he let out a grumble and closed the trunk. Looking around the area, everything seemed abandoned and he was starting to think it might have just been the wind knocking something about around him.

Making his way back to the store, Negan let out a tense sound when he realized that Y/N wasn’t where he had left her. Moving through the aisles, he felt his heart begin to race when he realized she wasn’t there, “Y/N! Where the fuck are you?”

“Daddy, calm down,” her voice beckoned him from above. Tipping his head back, Negan saw her looking over the side of the upper part of the split level. It had a lump growing in his throat realizing that she was amused with him getting upset. Her fingers were curled around the railing that was there and she threw her hand up to place her finger over her mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing up there?” Negan went to head over to the stairs, grumbling to himself when he stepped on the first one and heard it crumble beneath his feet. He managed to stop himself from falling, but he could feel his blood starting to boil. “Get back down here. You shouldn’t go anywhere I haven’t checked.”

“No one is up here Negan,” she assured him, leaning back to look both ways on the level she was on. “I was very careful making my way up here. I just saw that golden retriever stuffed animal over there and it reminded me of Darwin. After everything that Evie has been through, I thought I would just grab it for her. Maybe it would make her happy.”

“She has her Flounder at The Sanctuary,” Negan waved his fingers at her trying to beckon her to come back to him. With a huff, Negan managed to work his way up the steps and he could see that she was moving over toward the shelves that had the large stuffed animals on them. Once he reached the top, Negan’s foot went through one of the steps and he growled out. “Do you have a death wish? We both agreed that we weren’t going to come up here. I don’t know how you didn’t fall on your ass getting up these stairs. You could get really hurt. I told you the wood was rotted.”

“I just want our daughter happy. Flounder is her special stuffed animal with you,” she looked back at Negan who managed to pull himself up to his feet, his glare locking with her. “I want her to have something special from me.”

“She’s going to have Darwin’s collar when we get back to the farm,” Negan suggested moving a few steps further only to hear the sound of cracking beneath him. With big eyes, Negan looked beneath him to see that the floor was giving out. Before he could react, the sound of the wood splintering beneath his feet was heard. Trying to reach for anything, Negan failed horribly and felt the world sliding out from beneath him. Sinking through the floor that broke, Negan hit the first floor. With how hard he fell, it made a long gust of air fall from his lungs, but at the same time his luck just happened to be incredible. In the fall, he landed into a pile of bean bag chairs so while falling through the floor hurt, the actual landing wasn’t so bad. Groaning out, Negan dropped back his head from where he was into the bean bag chair beneath him. Through the hole that was in the floor, he could see that Y/N was looking down at him through it to make sure that he was okay. “If this isn’t a fucking sign to tell you to come back downstairs, I don’t know what is. As you can see, I’m fucking skinny and I just went right through the fucking floor.”

“I’m fine,” she declared, her hands resting on her knees when she let out a small laugh. “That was really dumb luck that you fell like that.”

“I still got cut,” Negan winced looking to his arm that had managed to get snagged underneath his jacket. There was blood at his wrist and he hissed out. Lucille had fallen beside him and he grabbed her. “This shit hurts Y/N. Just fucking come back down before you get hurt. If you weren’t drunk, I think you would have never made this stupid fucking decision to begin with. It’s dumb bravery.”

“I’m not drunk,” she bickered with him, standing up straight with her face scrunching up. “You’re the one that fell. Not me.”

The sounds of knocking grew louder, drawing Negan’s attention to the walkers that were locked up in the back room of the store. Brushing himself off, Negan groaned out at the tension he was feeling in his back when he stood. Moving back, he observed the area that the stuffed animal she was intent on getting was.

“Y/N, come on,” Negan tried to persuade her back down the stairs as he brushed the wood and the splinters from his body. “I’m not comfortable with this. The stuffed animal is over the back room where the walkers are. I’m not okay with this.”

“I’ll be quick,” she insisted drawing Negan to let out a tense breath when he watched from where he was standing. Walking around certain areas, Y/N stood before the shelf that she wanted. There was a struggle to grab the stuffed animal since she was a little too short. Stepping up on the bottom shelf, she managed to get up higher and grabbed the leg of the giant stuffed animal. “Evie is going to love this. Darwin used to always sleep with her at night. So it will be like having Darwin with her again. It looks just like him too.”

“Great. Wonderful. Grab the stuffed animal and let’s go,” Negan suggested, waving his hand about in attempt to get her moving. “I want to head home.”

“I’m coming,” she announced holding out the stuffed animal to show Negan that she managed to get it. “See, I’m not like you. I’m not about to fall through a floor because I put fifty extra pounds on my body with that leather jacket that you…”

The sound of cracking was heard and Negan felt his heart skip a beat. The shelf that Y/N had been holding onto snapped. Managing to grab another one just in time, Y/N’s face went pale when she nodded her head about.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m coming down right now,” she announced going to move her foot only for a cracking sound to echo throughout the store. The shelves she was balancing her weight on splintered beneath her weight. Falling backwards, Y/N tried to reach for the other shelves that were before her, but they managed to snap off the wall when she grabbed them.

“Y/N!” Negan yelled out hearing the same crashing sound he did earlier when he fell through the floor. A loud thud echoed and through the window that looked into the back room, Negan saw that she had hit the cement floor hard. From the sound she made when she hit the floor, Negan didn’t know if she was unconscious or incredibly hurt, but he knew that she was locked in there with the walkers. Scrambling forward Negan could tell that her fall had started to attract the walkers. “Y/N!”

She wasn’t answering. Hell, she wasn’t moving. Punching out the window, Negan didn’t care if he got cut. He was doing everything to try to pull his body through that small window, but he realized that no matter how hard he tried he wasn’t going to make it through. Cussing out, he felt his panic start to flare up with the walkers starting to make their way over to her. Roaring out, Negan grabbed his gun and aimed at the walkers shooting over and over again. Unloading his gun, Negan managed to kill only a few of them.

“Fuck!” Negan ran around toward the door that was locked. Trying to pull at the lock, Negan let out a groan of frustration when he heard shuffling in the back room. “Y/N!”

“Negan!” she called out to him and he heard gun shots starting to go off. Over and over again, Negan slammed his shoulder into the door trying to break it down. With each hit he could feel the wood from the door giving away. Starting to kick at the door had the wood splintering until he was able to kick a big enough hole for him to fit through. Once he made it in the room, Negan used Lucille on the remainder of the walkers that were in his way. Stumbling through them, Negan’s attention was brought to a door that led outside that had been forced open. Blood was all over the floor, but he knew that a lot of it was from the walkers that were fresher. Y/N had killed quite a few on her own.

“Y/N!” Negan screamed out once he got outside finding a few of the walkers with gunshot wounds to their heads laying face first in the grass. There was no sight of Y/N and he felt his heart start to hammer inside of his chest. Panic began to eat away at him as he called out to her again with no response. In the distance he heard movement and saw a walker that looked like it had its legs shot out. Moving up to it, Negan brought the bat down over its head hearing the squashing sound that came with it. “Y/N!”

Looking ahead of him, Negan saw at the top of the hill it looked like Y/N was sitting on the edge of it. Scrambling up, Negan felt like the world was spinning around him.

“Fuck Y/N! You scared the shit outta me,” Negan announced when he saw her sitting on the hill that overlooked the water. The stuffed animal that she had gone for was sitting at her left side and her arm was wrapped around it. Her gun was in her right hand with her just staring out at the water. “Why the fuck didn’t you respond? I was scared shitless that something fucking happened to you.”

Once again, she didn’t say a thing and Negan cleared his throat. Instead, she just lowered her head and Negan gazed her over. Noticing that there was blood on her right hand, Negan lowered down and tipped his head to the side. Setting the gun down beside her, Y/N grabbed the stuffed animal in her arms and squeezed it in closer to her. Seeing her hug the stuffed animal like that confused him. Once she set it aside, Negan looked to her hand realizing that the blood was likely from her killing the walkers.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have fucking gone for that stuffed animal,” Negan lowered down beside her, his body moving in next to hers so he could join her sitting near the area that overlooked the water below. “That had to knock the fucking wind out of you. You hit the ground hard.”

Sighing loudly, Y/N tipped her head back with her eyes slamming shut. There was a cut at her temple and Negan reached out to swipe his finger over it, “You probably have a concussion with that fall. And some fucking splinters. We should get you back to The Sanctuary to get you looked at.”

Gradually Y/N’s eyes open and she unhurriedly turned her head to stare out at him. The way she was looking at him made him feel uncomfortable. Reaching out, he placed his hand in over hers and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Y/N?” Negan repeated her name, his eyes narrowing in uncertainty with his eyebrows bouncing up. “What’s going on?”

“Just be quiet. For a minute,” she begged of him looking toward the water again. Eyeing her over, Negan didn’t know how to respond as she took time to stare out at the nature before her.

“What are you doing?” Negan questioned, his thick eyebrows furrowing as he tried to determine what was going on. “You shouldn’t have taken off like you did. You’re lucky something worse didn’t happen to you. I told you that going up there was stupid,” Negan continued to lecture her and it seemed to just fall upon deaf ears. “Y/N?”

“I was just thinking about things,” she disclosed, turning her head back to look at him. This time it made a breath catch in his throat when he saw that she had tears in her eyes.

“About what?” Negan stammered, shrugging his shoulders. Instead of waiting here, they should have been moving, but she was insistent upon sitting there. “Is your leg hurt? Do you need me to carry you back? Is it your back?”

“I can still walk Negan,” she frowned, reaching up with her clean hand to wipe at her face with the back of her hand. “I was thinking about my life again. The what ifs.”

“Why are you doing that again?” Negan scoffed, his chest tightening when she brought up the very same thing she had done in the bar. “I thought we had talked about that in the bar. Why think about that shit when there is nothing you can do to change things? We should really talk about this when we get back to The Sanctuary because the sun is going to start setting soon and…”

“I was wondering what life would have been like if I would have just said thank you instead of inviting you back into the bar,” she spoke louder than him, causing his words to come to an immediate halt. It made his jaw flex and the vein at the side of his neck bulge. A broken breath fell from her throat when she tipped her head side to side and looked back at the water again. “Would my life have been better if I would have never brought you into it? What if I would have just thanked you and sent you on your way?”

“Why the fuck are you thinking like that?” Negan choked out, stumbling through his words when anxiety flooded his veins. That was a really weird thing to hear her say after they had just gotten married and they had their previous talk. “I think no matter what, the two of us would have gotten together. I think we were soul mates. Destiny would have brought us together no matter what.”

“Would we? Because I was planning on leaving this fucking place,” she snapped at Negan, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. “I hate it here so much. It was nothing but painful memories and loneliness. Maybe if I would have just thanked you and we parted ways, I could have finished school and gone to London. Things could have probably been so much better there. I could have made it to the top of the business like I planned on. I could have had an incredible apartment in the city. Fuck, I had money, but if I would have taken that path I could have been insanely rich. That’s what I had been being built up for. I could have been an incredibly powerful woman. I probably could have had enough fucking money to live in that apartment forever with all the resources I could have.”

“I don’t understand,” Negan responded, his fingers hooking with hers again to give them a tight squeeze. “Why are you talking like that? I thought all you ever wanted was to be married to me. We’re finally married. We have two beautiful children…”

“We do,” she agreed with Negan, nodding slowly when she let out a shuddering breath. There was a single tear sliding down her face when she looked to him again. “I should have never forced you to marry me. I know it was something you never truly wanted.”

“That’s fucking silly. Of course I wanted to be married to you,” Negan leaned forward to press a loving kiss against the side of her face. “That’s why we’re married Y/N. It’s what we’ve wanted this whole time.”

“We both know you have always preferred Lucille,” she let out a tremoring breath showing that the sadness had flooded her features again. “I know that given the chance, you would switch Lucille with me in an instant. If you could hit a button, you would have picked for me to die and Lucille be in my place.”

“I wouldn’t,” Negan denied with her tugging her hand out of his and he let out a frustrated sound. “I always loved both you and Lucille.”

“But you loved Lucille more,” she reminded him with an overwhelmed breath. Outstretching her arm, she reached for the stuffed animal she had grabbed for Evie. Taking a final look at it, she held it out to Negan who tipped his head to the side. He didn’t know what to do with her giving him the stuffed animal. “Take it Negan.”

Accepting the stuffed animal, he set it beside him and reached out to pinch at the bridge of his nose, “I think we need to go home Y/N. Let’s get this stupid dog back into the car and at The Sanctuary we can talk about whatever the hell you want. We can go over the same things we have talked about so many times before if it makes you feel better,” Negan reached for her hand to try to get her to move, but she refused. “Listen, okay? I know I’ve upset you. But whatever I did in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore because right now we have two children waiting for us back at The Sanctuary. Yes, I loved Lucille, but I always loved you Y/N. I did. I do. And you mean everything to me. I’m giving up this life for you because I love you. We’re going to start over.”

Silence. Nothing was said. Except he heard her start to cry.

“We can talk about whatever you want when we get back Y/N,” Negan tried to offer a weak smile, his voice softening. “We just have to get back home to our babies before the sun falls. Come on.”

Reaching his left hand out, his fingers hooked with hers and he felt them squeezing tightly to his. Going to urge her to get up, Negan felt her tense when he tried to get her to stand up with him, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going anywhere Negan,” she informed him, letting out a shuddering breath with him tipping his head to the side. Standing up, Negan tried to pull her to him but she remained still with her fingers hooked firmly around his.

“Come on,” Negan shook his head watching her tearful eyes connect with his. Reaching up with her free hand, she tugged at her shirt to reveal the wound that was over her shoulder near her neck. A frightened gasp fell from Negan’s throat when he released her hand, stumbling back. “Y/N…”

“My luck was bound to stop at some point,” she announced with a broken tone as Negan lowered down to his knees. His eyes were tearing over as she shook her head and let out a nervous laugh. “I should have just listened to you and left the damn stuffed animal. But I wanted to make Evie happy. I wanted her to have something special from me.”

Refusing to believe that she was actually bitten, Negan crawled forward toward her. Hooking his fingers into her shirt, he pulled the material down to observe the wound. Looking closely, he tried to make out the shape of it and he felt his throat tensing up. Shaking his head, his breathing became uneven when he traced his finger over the wound, “It doesn’t look like a bite. It looks like it could have happened in the fall. You didn’t get bit…”

“Negan,” she spoke quietly, her eyes full of remorse. “Come on.”

“No, no. It’s not a fucking bite,” Negan snapped at her, trying to get a better look at it, but she pushed him away from her with a grunt. Pushing the sleeve up on his jacket, Negan showed her the wound that he got from falling through the floor. “Look at my arm from falling through the floor. You fell back, shoulders first. It could be a wound that you got from the broken wood Y/N. You don’t know if that’s a fucking bite.”

“Negan, stop it!” she demanded noticing that the color completely drained from his face. “We both know I’m not going back to The Sanctuary. You and I both know that’s a bite. They took a good chunk out of me, but it’s a bite.”

“No. We’ll take you back. I’ll have the doctor look you over. There is something that he has to be able to do even if it is a bite,” Negan reasoned with her trying to reach out to grab her arm, but she refused to move when he let out a pained noise. “You need to get up Y/N. The quicker we get you there, the better it is. We’ll get you seen and…”

“Negan! I’m not going!” she yelled at him hearing a whimper falling from his throat. “I’m not going to allow you to take me back there and turn. I’m not going to put Evie and Nathan’s lives on the line just because the two of us can’t come to fucking terms with what is going on here.”

“This can’t be happening,” Negan dropped back on his knees, his whole body shaking. Y/N lowered her head and he dragged his hands down over the front of his face. “This isn’t fair. We just got married. Everything was going right. That’s not…it’s not fucking fair.”

“Life isn’t fair Negan,” she half laughed, a disappointed breath falling from her throat. “No one understands that more than me.”

“No. No, please,” Negan refused to let this go on when he tried to get her to look at him. “Come on. We’ll go back to The Sanctuary. Put someone on the door just in case, but I know you will realize that this was just something that happened with the fall. You can’t just give up and accept that this is how it is going to be.”

A saddened exhale fell from his throat when Y/N reached for the gun that she had set aside and he placed his hand over hers to keep her from bringing the gun up, “I don’t remember the exact timeline of infection rate. But if I remember correctly, a bite on the shoulder is anywhere from two to six hours. It’s also incredibly close to my neck, so I imagine it’s going to be even less than that.”

“Even if you are infected, your children deserve to say goodbye,” Negan stressed, getting her to set the gun down for now and she let out a tremoring whimper. “Please get up. Let’s go home. Evie and Nathan will want to see you.”

“Negan, there is a chance if I go back to The Sanctuary with you, I’ll turn,” she explained through her tears leaving Negan with an incredible ache at the center of his chest. “I can turn on the drive back and I could bite you. If that happens, there is a chance that our children lose both of their parents and they are left with strangers who are not capable of taking care of them because they don’t love them. Maybe I make it back to The Sanctuary, I do get to say goodbye, but what if I turn when I hug them? What if I bite one of our children? I can’t live with the idea of that Negan. I can’t.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” Negan was devastated and at a complete loss. “I’ll sit here with you. We can wait out the two hours together. I’ll stay for the six. We can do that. I’ll stay with you.”

“I want you to go back to The Sanctuary,” she stressed to Negan, her voice raspy from her crying. Immediately Negan shook his head and she let out a frustrated sound. “Goddamn it Negan, just listen to me.”

“No, I won’t leave you here alone,” Negan insisted with an angered breath. “I can’t do that.”

“Can you really stand to see me turn into one of them?” she questioned, her words hard to get out through her crying. “Do you really want to sit here and watch me turn into one of them like you did Lucille? It still destroys you to this day Negan what you had to see with Lucille. I don’t…I don’t want that to be the last thing you think of when you are with me. I want you to picture me smiling.”

��I’m not going to abandon you like I did last time,” Negan asserted himself, his arms throwing down at his sides in defeat.

“If you love me Negan,” she began and he immediately cut her off by throwing his hands up in the air.

“I do love you which is why I’m saying this,” he fought with her hearing her cries continue when he threw his hand back toward the car. “I’m not giving up on you Y/N. I abandoned you when you needed me the most. We’re going to start our life together. That’s what we said. At the end of this week, we’re going to the farm and…”

“You have to let go of that Negan,” she shook her head, her hand placing in over the center of her chest. “I want you to go to that farm. Take Nathan and Evie. Be their father like you were always meant to be. Still go to the farm and show those kids the love they were meant to have. With you. I just…I won’t be part of that dream anymore.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Negan shook his head, biting down on his lip trying not to have an absolute meltdown right now. “It was all of us.”

“Promise me you will take the children to the farm,” she begged of him and Negan immediately shook his head. “Goddamn it Negan, I’m fucking dying. Just do this last thing for me. It’s my dying fucking wish so stop being so fucking stubborn. If you don’t want to let me down, you take your son and your daughter to that farm. You get away from The Sanctuary because that is no place for them to be raised. You be their dad. You take care of them. You raise them right and you make them happy. I’m begging you. Please.”

Sobs were falling from Negan, his head burying in his hands when he just completely started to break down before her, “Please Negan. I need to know that you will do this for me. Promise me.”

“I can’t,” Negan whimpered with her tugging at his wrist to try to get him to look at her, but his body was rocking back and forth. When she managed to get one of his hands away from his face, his face was red and tear stained. “Please just get up.”

“If you ever really loved me Negan, I want you to promise me that you will take care of those kids and give them the life that they deserve,” she stressed to Negan, wiping at her own face to try to swipe her tears away. “Please.”

“I…” Negan felt her grabbing a firm hold of his arms to get him to look at her. “I promise.”

“Good, now you need to get up and you need to go to them,” she instructed him with a nod of her head looking to the gun that she had set down. Staring down at it, she let out a tremoring breath and shook her head. “I really don’t want to become one of those things.”

“Just let me sit here with you,” Negan pled of her, cupping her face in his hands while she cried. Negan was shaking and she reached her hand up to place it over his.

“I don’t think I have it in me to kill myself,” she informed him with a nervous breath looking down at the gun. After a minute, she raised her head and it took her breath away. She’d never seen Negan cry like this before. “And I doubt you have it in you to kill me.”

“Stop, just stop,” Negan begged going to reach for the gun, but she pulled it back away from him. “You’re not going to kill yourself. You can’t do that.”

“I don’t feel good Negan,” she informed him looking to her shoulder to see that the blood was seeping into her shirt. “I don’t want to turn into one of those things. I could hurt someone. I could hurt a child. I could hurt you and I love you.”

Looking toward the water again, Y/N placed the gun up to her temple and Negan held his hands out, “Please. Please don’t do that. Don’t…”

“It’s a beautiful view Negan. At least it would be something good to go out to,” she reasoned with him hearing his cries continue. “You’re not going to leave and you need a reason to. I also don’t want to be one of those monsters either. I can’t let myself turn.”

A stressed sound fell from Y/N’s throat when her finger hovered over the trigger. Desperately Negan thought of the first thing that popped into his head before yelling it out, “I think about you every time I get a headache!”

Confusion flooded Y/N’s features when she lowered the gun and looked to Negan, “Whenever I had a headache, I would always think about you. You would always take me in your arms and you would rub at my temples. It would either put me to sleep or relieve the tension because every fucking time you did it the headache would go away. And then I would wake up in your arms and know that the person that I loved was taking care of me. When I was with Lucille, I refused to take pain medicine for it when I’d have a headache because I wanted to torture myself for the things I did to you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she half laughed her head shaking when Negan threw his hands up in the air. At least it drew the gun away from her head as he continued to speak to her. “Why did you tell me that?”

“Because we were talking about things that made us happy. That always made me happy,” Negan explained, his voice breaking the further he continued to recall their past together. “One of my fondest memories that makes me happy every single time is when you and I took Evie to the aquarium together. With us just sitting on the bench with one another with her running back and forth. God, with those adorable little fucking feet. You laid your head on my shoulder and that was when life felt like it should have. I loved Lucille. I loved Lucille so fucking much, but when I think back on my life and the times where I felt like everything was as it should be…it was always when I was with you and Evie. When our daughter was just cuddled up between the two of us.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she pointed out, her words coming out sad with her bottom lip trembling as Negan continued to ramble.

“You want more confessions? I wish I never covered up the compass,” Negan pointed to his arm where he knew the tattoo that he had covered up in the past was. “The day I got it covered, I went outside and I cried all night long. I was so angry at myself for covering it up, but the only reason I covered it up was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought I would stop loving you so fucking much if I just covered the thing, but it didn’t work. It shattered my heart into a million fucking pieces.”

Outstretching his hand, Negan placed his hand in over hers hearing her faint cries falling from her throat, “And if I could relive one single moment in my life over and over again, it would be the day that you told me you were pregnant with Evie. Fuck, I can picture it perfectly in my head right now. What you were dressed in, the way that you looked…”

Grabbing the gun from Y/N’s hand, Negan slid in closer to her feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt flooding his body. This was his fault that she got hurt. If he wouldn’t have turned the damn car around they would have never been in this fucking position to begin with.

“It’s the last thing I’d want to picture if I knew that my life was coming to an end,” Negan allowed her to fall into his arms while he held onto her. “What would yours be?”

“The day Evie was born,” she wasted no time in answering, her head resting against the center of his chest hearing his heartbeat hammering beneath her head. “The moment that they placed her in my arms and she smiled at me…”

“Close your eyes,” Negan whimpered, adjusting his positioning as he grabbed a better hold of the gun. Using his free hand, he tipped her head back and brought her lips to his. The taste of their tears lingered over their lips when Negan parted from her. Placing the gun below her chin Negan heard her let out a long exhale. “I want you to picture that. Okay?”

“Okay,” her eyes slammed shut tightly with Negan’s breathing growing louder.

“I love you,” Negan felt her hand lifting up to press over his wrist in almost a supportive fashion. Hovering his finger over the trigger, Negan felt his body tremoring. Loud sobs were falling from his throat with his arm tensing up. With a roar, Negan pulled his arm back with the sound of the gun shot echoing around them. Dropping forward, Negan buried his head into the ground with his cries stronger than they were before. Hitting at the ground over and over again, Negan cussed out to himself only to feel the warmth of Y/N’s arms hugging him tightly. “I can’t fucking do it. I can’t. I’m so sorry. I’m…”

“It’s okay,” she hushed him doing her best to calm him down while he cried in her arms. Nuzzling her nose in against the back of his neck, she pressed a faint kiss there and kept him in her arms until he calmed down. “Look at me.”

“I can’t do this Y/N. I can’t watch you sit here and kill yourself. You are the strongest person I’ve ever known and I can’t watch you do this,” Negan’s face was on fire with his head aching. His crying was hard when she brushed her fingers through his damp hair.

“You don’t have to. I won’t make you,” she hushed him with a kiss that lingered over his lips before he pulled away with a whimper. Leaning back, she reached for the wedding ring that Negan had given her and it made him let out a shuddering breath. “Give this to Evie, okay? I’d give her the bracelet, but I think I need it. I need you and her with me during this.”

“Please,” Negan begged, shaking his head refusing to believe this was how things were going to end. Y/N’s fingers were tracing over the bracelet that Negan had given her on her birthday all those years ago that had his initials and Evie’s on it. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. And you will. Those children love you and you’re going to do a great job with them,” she sounded weaker with her eyes staring out into his. “I have the absolute most faith in you Negan. Don’t prove me wrong.”

Curling Negan’s fingers around the ring, she pushed the stuffed animal close to Negan and pointed back toward the car, “I need you to take those back to The Sanctuary. I want you to tell Evie that I love her. I will always love her. That she was the best thing in this life that I ever did and I never regretted a moment I spent with her. No matter how much the two of us fought.”

“You should be the one telling her this,” Negan reasoned with her and she let out a hurt breath. “Y/N?”

“When Nathan is old enough to understand, I want you to tell him he was my little miracle baby. The one that made it through with all the obstacles trying to stop him from coming into this world,” she hooked her fingers with Negan’s squeezing them tightly. “Don’t let either of them forget that I loved them. Okay?” Negan didn’t respond. His cries just grew louder and she let out a frustrated whine. “Negan? I need to hear you say okay.”

“Okay,” Negan tremored, his eyes aching from how hard he had been crying.

“And I want you to know, regardless of the what ifs,” she whispered pressing faint kisses over Negan’s face. “As stupid as I am, I wouldn’t change bringing you into my life. The moment you stepped into my life, you had a hold of my heart Negan. I have loved you from the first moment I met you and I will love you until my very last breath. As much as things hurt, nothing ever felt as good as it did when I truly, genuinely felt loved by you. I love you.”

“I love you so much,” Negan whispered against her lips when he kissed her again. “It’s not fair. It should be me. I would do anything for us to switch positions. This shouldn’t be you.”

“But we can’t change that now,” she stroked her thumb in over his bottom lip, the sadness of her eyes locking with his. “If there is such a thing as the afterlife, I’m pretty sure Lucille is going to be there waiting for me. And she’s going to take care of me. So you don’t have to worry, okay?”

“Fuck,” Negan’s heart broke hearing that while Y/N continued to speak.

“And we’re going to watch over you and the kids. I promise,” she stroked her hands down over the sides of Negan’s face hearing his cries growing louder. “I’ll let her know how much you loved her. How much you miss her and how sorry you are.”

Lowering his head, Negan could tell that she was putting on a brave face when she gave him a firm nod with her trying to comfort him, “I’m going to need you to get up. Grab that stuffed animal and Lucille. I need you to get in the car and I need you to drive to The Sanctuary. Once you leave, don’t turn back Negan. Don’t come back here. Do you understand?”

“This is wrong,” Negan breathlessly stammered with his words broken by his cries.

“But you have to be strong for me and the children,” she instructed him with one final kiss, urging him to get up. “I’m just going to sit here and wait for the sunset. Okay?”

Stumbling to his feet, Negan did what she asked of him grabbing Lucille and the stuffed animal she had grabbed for Evie, “Let her know that it was from me. Tell her the stuffed animal is named Darwin and that if she keeps that with her both Darwin and I will be with her forever. Can you do that for me?”

Nodding his head, Negan was having an incredibly hard time going the other way. Once he finally turned away from her to head back toward the car, he heard her calling out to him, “I love you Negan.”

“I love you too,” Negan whispered with a lump developing in his throat. “More than you will ever fucking know. I’ve always loved you.”

With that, Negan headed back toward the car like she asked of him. Starting to put away the things, Negan closed the trunk of the car and lowered his upper half over it counting to himself. Considering his options, he knew that he didn’t want to leave her there.

“Fuck this,” Negan started to move back toward the trees only for the sound of a gunshot to boom throughout the air. Falling to his knees, Negan felt his heart pounding in his chest now realizing why she told him to never come back. Everything went numb with his sobs growing louder at the thought of what just happened. Screaming out, Negan curled up and covered his head with his arms.

Who knows how long he stayed there until he finally pulled himself back up to his feet. Stumbling over toward the car, Negan dropped down into the driver’s seat and looked to the ring that was still between his fingers. Reaching for the necklace that he wore that had his and Lucille’s wedding ring on it, Negan added the ring to it before placing it back around his neck. Looking to his ring finger, Negan saw that his hands were shaking and he kept his eyes locked on the wedding band he had gotten for himself. With another roar, Negan started hitting the wheel of the car over and over again. Honk after honk filled the air until he finally gathered himself and started the car up just like he had promised Y/N he would do.

It felt like he was dead on the inside when he made his way back to The Sanctuary. When he did pull up, he drove into one of the loading docks and when he got out he could see that Simon was with Laura waiting for him.

“Where’s the wife?” Simon questioned, stepping forward to place his hand over Negan’s shoulder to draw his attention. Shoving firmly into Simon had him stumbling back and hitting the ground hard. Moving to the car, Negan pulled out Lucille and started his way back. “Listen, I don’t know…”

The sound of things shattering was heard when Negan started beating into the items that were lined up in the loading dock. Screaming through his anger and his pain, Negan was destroying everything in his sight leaving nothing but mayhem behind him.

“Boss man,” Simon tried to get up to move toward him, but Laura stopped him with a firm shake of her head and her hand pressed into Simon’s chest.

“He needs this,” she suggested with them standing there until finally Negan threw Lucille aside, the bat shattering a window in the car when he dropped down onto his knees. Another roar of a scream fell from his lips when Laura cautiously moved over to lower down beside Negan who started sobbing. Wrapping her arms around Negan it sounded like he was hyperventilating while he was breaking down. “It’s okay.”

“She’s gone,” Negan dropped onto his side, his face red and tear stained while his body rocked. “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

There was really no comforting Negan, but Laura was doing her best to help with him having an absolute break down before her. They had to let it run its course and it was a while before Negan stopped crying along with talking to himself. His back was pressed against the wall with his arms resting on his legs. Beside him Negan had thrown up with how hard he had been crying, but he looked severely broken.

“Negan,” Laura approached him with the large stuffed animal that she had gotten out of the car in her arms. “What do you want me to do with this.”

Staring up at Laura, Negan didn’t say a thing as he stood from the ground and grabbed the toy. Keeping the stuffed animal loosely hooked under his arm, Negan walked off into The Sanctuary. There were people staring at him from either hearing about his break down or learning through others about it, but no one dared to speak to him or fuck with him right now.

Making it up the steps, Negan walked to the room that he knew the children would be in. Stopping at the door, he closed his eyes and let out a long exhale. Pushing the door open, Negan stared out at the bed seeing that Evie was playing with Nathan and the nanny. Once Evie noticed that it was Negan that was there, she immediately got up from the bed and ran over to wrap her arms around him. Instead of hugging her back, Negan’s body was tense and he was just standing there.

“Daddy,” Nathan smiled clapping his hands together when he saw Negan.

“I’m gonna need you to take Nathan to my room and stay there with him, okay?” Negan asked of the woman he had watching his children. Evie’s arms were still locked around his waist with her head tipped back staring up at him confused.

“What’s this?” Evie asked when the woman made her way around Negan and into the hallway with Nathan who seemed like he wanted to be grabbed by Negan, but Negan didn’t take him. Realizing that she was looking to the stuffed dog, Negan lifted it up and held it toward her. Accepting the stuffed animal, Evie gave him a strange look. “Dad?”

“It’s for you,” Negan responded, dropping the dog down and moving into the room further. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Negan’s fingers dug into the comforter as he wrapped them around the edge of the bed. “Your mother got it for you. She thought it looked like Darwin and said his name was Darwin.”

“Why do you look like that?” she asked squeezing the stuffed dog in closer to her as she walked before Negan on the bed. Negan’s eyes were swollen and she could pick up on the fact that he was crying. “Why didn’t mom just give him to me herself?”

“Because she’s gone,” Negan responded noticing the half smile that pressed in over Evie’s features. It wasn’t a smile of happiness. No it was an uncomfortable smile where she didn’t get what he was saying.

“What do you mean gone?” Evie repeated what he said, her arm squeezing tighter around the stuffed animal. Reaching out, she tried to hook her fingers around Negan’s, but he didn’t return the gesture. “Daddy? Where is mommy?”

“Gone,” Negan stressed, his jaw locking up when the color started to drain from Evie’s young features. “She’s not coming back Evie.”

“What do you mean she’s not coming back?” she dropped her hand at her side noticing that Negan was almost emotionless as he sat before her. “What did you do to her? Where is she?”

“I left her,” Negan explained with a broken breath, his eyes slowly locking with hers when they started to burn over again. “I left her because she’s not…,” Negan went to speak up, his words getting caught up when he felt the warmth of his tears sliding down his face again. “Your mother is gone Evie and she’s not coming back.”

“Do you mean dead?” she dropped the stuffed animal that Negan had handed her hearing Negan’s cries starting to fill the air. “This isn’t funny dad. It’s not a good joke. I know you’ve wanted me to be better to her, but this isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry Evie,” Negan apologized, his bottom lip trembling when he could see that her face was turning red. “Your mom got bit.”

“No, no. That wouldn’t happen,” Evie insisted with a shake of her head, her eyes starting to tear over with Negan sitting before her. “Mom has never gotten bit. Mom knows better than to be put in a position where she could get bit.”

“It was an accident,” Negan’s voice was broken and sounded completely different while he tried to explain what happened to his daughter in the best way that he could. “She got you that stuffed animal and she wanted me to tell you that his name was Darwin. That if you have it with you, you will always have her and Darwin watching over you. She wanted me to tell you that she loved you. That you were the best thing that ever happened to her. She wanted you to know that she never regretted a moment that she spent with you and that she would always love you.”

“Stop,” she ordered of Negan in a demanding tone through her cries now finding a hard time believing what he was telling her. “Mom wouldn’t make you do that, she would do it herself. Where is she? Dad! Where is she?”

Dropping his head into his hands, Negan continued to cry hearing Evie’s breathing growing rapid. A grunt fell from his throat when Evie hit him in the shoulder and he lifted his head to stare out at his daughter, “Answer me! Where is she?”

“She asked me to leave her,” Negan was honest, his words stammering when he watched Evie start to sob. “So I did. Where she was bit…there was no coming back from it. She was scared if I brought her here that she would turn and hurt you. That she would hurt Nathan.”

“So you didn’t see her die,” she suggested with Negan biting down into his bottom lip while she shoved at him to try to get him to answer her. “You didn’t see her dead! That means she could still be alive. You have to go after her. You have to get her!”

“She’s gone Evie,” Negan insisted between cries feeling Evie hit him in the chest and he let her. “She’s not here anymore. I know she’s not here.”

“Why did you leave her?” Evie yelled at Negan while hitting him repeatedly. This was what he honestly deserved. Hell, he fucking deserved worse. “You have to go back! You have to get her. You can’t just leave her there.”

“It was her last wish Evie,” Negan reasoned with her finally having her collapse into his arms after he wrapped her up in them. The warmth of her tears stained at his shirt while she sobbed in his arms. “She wanted me to go and not look back.”

“You can’t just let her rot out there,” Evie begged of Negan, pulling her head back while she stared up at him with her hazel eyes. “You have to go back out there and…”

“I promised her,” Negan stressed and she immediately shook her head, hitting at Negan’s chest again.

“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t go back there and bring her home,” Evie snapped at Negan behind tears herself, her voice breaking with how hard she was yelling at him. “Go get her!”

Lowering his head, Negan felt her hitting him over and over again until he wrapped her up in his arms again, burying his head against the side of her neck. Between both of their cries, Negan could feel her shaking in his arms, “She can’t be gone. I never said I was sorry. I didn’t…”

“She wasn’t upset with you baby,” Negan whispered, stroking his fingers through Evie’s hair in attempt to calm her. “She loved you so much, that’s why she got the dog for you. She just wanted you happy. That’s all she ever wanted.”

“Please daddy,” she begged of him behind tears. “You have to go back. You have to find her. She can’t be gone.”

Holding Evie in his arms for a few more minutes, Negan thought about Y/N and Lucille. He walked away from both of them. He couldn’t put them down. Now was his chance to finally give one of the women that he loved a grave. A place for his children to find her. Evie was right. He couldn’t leave her body out there to rot away.

Getting up, Negan instructed Laura to stay with Evie and grabbed another car. Instead of telling anyone, he just got in that car and drove after grabbing a flashlight. Faster than he should have since it was dark. By the time he returned to the town, he had Lucille in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Every part of him dreaded making it up that hill as he approached it, afraid of what he would find.

When he finally made it to the top, he let out a shuddering breath when all he saw was the gun that she had sitting on top of the hill. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill herself. Driving back here, Negan was almost certain that he was going to find her body after he thought she had killed herself. That’s why he left. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to see her dead so that’s probably why she made it seem like she shot herself. Gazing around the area, Negan felt his heart hammering inside of his chest.

“Y/N?” Negan screamed out her name knowing that it was long past the four hour mark at this point. There was no way she would have made it. That meant one thing. She had turned and wandered off. And he was going to have to do everything in his power to find her so he could bring her home and give her the proper grave that she rightfully deserved.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @felicity291 @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @neganswoman @ravenrose18 @xojdmasf

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #Negan fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #Negan x you #Negan Smith #negan x reader

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farfromstrange · 3 months

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER SEVEN: Downward Spiral

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After agreeing to go on a date with Matt, you start realizing the weight of your decision, and your thoughts begin spiraling. In a moment of need, you turn to the only close friend you have in Hell's Kitchen, hoping she can pull you away from the edge of the very steep cliff your trauma is trying to throw you into.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST (the caps feel appropriate here), mentions of domestic violence, suicidal thoughts, allusions to a suicide attempt, allusions to sexual assault, mentions of being taken advantage of by a superior, (I guess you could say) mentions of hypersexuality, self-loathing, PTSD, some foreshadowing, mental breakdown, alcohol, Season 1 related plot (spoilers)

Word Count: 6.4k

A/n: Surprise! I'm posting early because I'm going to see my family this weekend, and after I had an epiphany at two in the morning and spent 3 days writing this, I got it done, and I'm actually quite proud of this (or maybe it's the caffeine). Anyway, heed the warnings because the topics of conversation in this are pretty dark. That's why I highlighted the angst. And if you haven't watched past episode 1 of Season 1, this might spoil some things for you. (Also, I have no idea how this turned into a beast with a word count over 6k. Sorry in advance.)

Read Chapter 7: Downward Spiral here on AO3

You don’t know what came over you.

You typed in Matt’s number in a moment of weakness, and once you heard his voice through the line, you gave up on being careful. You gave up on denying yourself what you’re so desperately craving, and you abandoned all rational thought.

For him.

You promised not to get attached to someone ever again—let alone a man. You started a new life in Hell’s Kitchen to find your way back to normalcy. You took all the necessary precautions, and even though you look back at the shreds of your old life every day, you are never going back.

Two years. That is the longest you have managed to stay in one place ever since you left California. But you still haven’t found your way back into the real world.

You have been guarding yourself, afraid of having your heart broken, afraid of losing this chance at a new life, and afraid of the man who ruined you.

Every time you close your eyes, you see his face. You hear his voice in the back of your mind. He’s everywhere, even when you don’t want him to be.

It’s easier to put a wall between yourself and everyone else. A wall no one can break through, not even yourself. You trapped your soul for the sole purpose of keeping yourself alive after you made the hardest decision of your life. When you ran, you believed your life was over, but you have always been too much of a coward to end your misery. God knows you’ve tried, but even a trained doctor can’t fully understand death, and some things just don’t work out the way we want them to.

Drunken one-night stands can’t possibly compare to a meaningful emotional connection, but they satisfy the need for physical intimacy. At least for a little while. It killed you; slowly, almost pathetically, but sleeping with strangers in dirty motel rooms did a better job than you ever could.

For the longest time, you used sex as a coping mechanism. You let strange men use you because that is the only way you know how to be with someone else. You let them hurt you to feel something, anything because pain is better than feeling nothing at all. But when you finally got settled in Hell’s Kitchen, thanks to Claire, you stopped.

You locked up your heart and threw away the key. You started to shield your body the same way you have shielded your soul. You retreated into a shell of restlessness and constant fear of every little sliver of hope you feel being taken away from you.

You have nowhere else to run, which is why keeping a low profile is so important to you, but after two years, don’t you deserve to finally live?

We don’t exist to just survive; we exist to live the life we were given. You are Olivia Clarke now, not the broken girl you left behind, but every time you think about it, his voice returns and backs you into a corner that you can’t escape from.

Every time you see the scars on your body, all you want to do is rip the skin off your bones and feed it to the dogs.

The men you slept with while you were running from your past saw you as a mere object, and you are used to being seen that way, but it was isolating nonetheless. They didn’t care about your scars, they only cared about what you could give them. They treated you like he did without lifting a finger.

Even though you don’t do that anymore, it still weighs heavy on your wounded soul.

Matt treats you like a person. He can’t physically see, but he still sees you. He sees you in a way no one has ever seen you before. And he is gentle, and patient, and—

You scream into your pillow. Your nose still hurts, but it is nothing compared to how fast your heart is beating.

To you, Matt is perfect. You know that no one can be perfect, and you should be careful, but he makes you feel things you have long denied yourself. He makes you feel wanted. Desired. Like you can be yourself around him and still be worthy of his attention. Like you matter. And he has a certain way of being around you that makes you feel protected, almost.

You don’t need protection. You have made it this far without a bodyguard by your side. You know how to fight your own battles better than most, but you can’t deny that you wouldn’t mind being saved by him.

You wouldn’t mind those hands he always wraps around his cane to wrap around you instead. He can’t see your scars, but he can feel them, and as terrifying as that thought sounds, it also excites you.

You’re treading dangerous territory, but God, he won’t leave you alone, not even when you’re trying to sleep. He could offer you a sense of normal that you have long missed. He could teach you how to be a person again. And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself be cared for by him.

You roll back onto your back when you need to breathe, one of your hairs getting stuck to your lip. You let out an annoyed huff. There won’t be much sleeping tonight, you’re sure. Not when you keep thinking about tomorrow.

“You’re not fifteen anymore,” you mutter to yourself. “What is wrong with you? God!”

It’s almost too surreal to believe that this magnetic force of a man managed to retrieve some of your long-lost hope, and he only had to call you beautiful once for you to be completely smitten.

When he allowed you to take care of his injuries on the first day you met, you didn’t think a person could be this guarded yet so vulnerable at the same time. He’s breaking under an invisible weight that must have been on his shoulders for years, maybe even decades. You’re painfully aware of other people’s feelings, and it wasn’t hard to tell that Matt carries a lot of unresolved pain with him. Always. He reminds you so much of yourself, it’s like staring into a mirror. Two broken halves of a whole.

Your thoughts won’t stand still, no matter how hard you try. You’re stuck inside an invisible hourglass. Not even heaven knows what will happen once time runs out. You don’t understand why you’re overthinking this while, at the same time, knowing exactly why. And you hate it.

There is a part of you that you can never get back. A little girl who grew up too fast. A girl who didn’t know any better. A broken teenager who wanted nothing more than to escape and live a better life than her parents could ever give her, and when she did manage to escape one hell, she found herself in a new quarter of purgatory built just for you.

You used to think that maybe you just bring the worst out in people, but after seeing the worst of humanity outside of your broken relationships, too, you’re not so sure about that anymore.

The fact that you don’t understand why you can’t stop your usually so intelligent brain from spinning out of control makes you want to claw at the walls of your apartment that threaten to cave in on you.

Part of you wants nothing more than to run and never look back, but you can’t run forever. This time, you wouldn’t be running from the Devil; you would be running from a fear of your own feelings. Human feelings. Feelings that have a high likelihood of recurring, and then you will have to run again.

You can’t run from reality forever. It’s a different reality now, but it’s a better reality. That is a rational thought, but being rational currently has no place in your mind, so you’re spiraling, and all because a nice guy asked you out for coffee.

You find yourself in a cab a few minutes later, wearing a pair of sweatpants, and an oversized shirt, with an untouched bottle of wine in your bag. Your worn-down sneakers are not the appropriate footwear for today’s weather, but you couldn’t be bothered to pick another pair.

You’re aware that it’s late and maybe you should have texted, but you’re already here, and Claire told you that you could always come to her, even if it happens to be the middle of the night. If the rule still stands after she suddenly decided to stay at your co-worker’s place without a proper explanation, you’re not quite sure though.

You knock. At first, no response. You knock again. The floorboards creak on the other side of the door.

“Claire, it’s Liv,” you call out.

You can hear the exact moment the person inside the apartment starts to panic. The floorboards creak again, more frequent this time, and it sounds almost as if Claire is turning the room upside down. You raise your eyebrows.

Before you can knock again, the lock finally clicks, and she opens the door. She’s more of a mess than you are, and that is put lightly.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Claire greets you. “What are you doing here?”

You blink a few times. “Hello to you too?”

She sighs. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night.”

“I can see that,” you answer. “Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She looks you up and down. “What happened to your nose?”

“It’s a long story.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah. Can I, uh, come in?”

She hesitates before stepping aside to let you in. “Sure.”

You take a quick look around the apartment. Nothing seems out of place. A bowl of cat food stands in the corner by the kitchen. The window in the living room is open, but it seems intentional.

The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air. You’re not sure if your nose is betraying you as you breathe in, but the smell is familiar. Bandages, disinfectant, and salve. You don’t want to question it, but you can’t help it.

“Did you hurt yourself?” you ask.

Claire blows her nose behind you. If you didn’t know better, you would think she was actually sick. She shakes her head upon hearing your question, but there is a faint blush on her cheeks.

“What makes you think that?” she retorts.

“Oh, no particular reason. It just smells very… hospital-y. That’s why I asked.”

“I, uh, I had to put a bandage on my leg earlier ‘cause this stupid cat decided to scratch me after peeing everywhere.” She sniffs. “Had to clean the wound, that thing—“ she nods toward the cat sitting in the cat tree, “and then the apartment. Maybe that’s why.”

You follow her gaze toward the little furball resting on his cat tree. You approach him, but Claire seems less pleased at the prospect.

“Be careful. He’s pissed.”

“At you,” you correct her. “Also, you’re having an allergic reaction, and—if he really, honest-to-God scratched you—very probably an infection. Why are you even staying here?”

Your voice rises in pitch when you reach the sleeping cat. “Hello, you.” You stroke his fur. He only opens one eye to sniff you, but once he recognizes you, he starts purring. For a moment, you forget the reason why you even came here.

Claire exhales loudly. She scratches her neck, her skin threatening to break out into hives. “It’s a long story,” she says.

You glare at her over your shoulder, your hand still stroking up and down the cat’s back as he settles back into a deep sleep. “I’m worried about you."

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine.”

“You called out of work and told Shelly you were sick.” You straighten up and turn back to face her. “You’re not sick, Claire.”

She sniffs as if to prove her point.

“Your immune system is overreacting by producing Immunoglobulin E. The antibodies are traveling to the cells responsible for releasing chemicals into your body, causing you to get a stuffy nose and break out into hives. You’re not sick. You’re allergic to cats and sharing an apartment with one. There’s a big difference,” you state. “Look, I know it’s none of my business, but you have to admit that, from where I’m standing, your behavior looks a little suspicious.”

“I’m going through some shit, alright?” she says. “And it’s a lot easier to deal with them here than back at my place. That’s why I called in sick.”

You don’t know what to make of her answer. It’s vague. You don’t like vague answers because they often indicate a bigger problem. It is one thing for you to deal with your demons on your own and refuse to talk about it with your best friend; it’s another thing entirely to keep a dangerous truth from the person you’re closest with, one that could potentially lead to worse consequences. If Claire were a naturally secretive person, maybe you would understand, but she isn’t like that. She isn’t you.

She’s the only person who knows your entire story. She saved your life. You can’t imagine her keeping secrets from you that might end up hurting her.

You dare to ask, “Are you in danger?”

She shakes her head a little too fast. “I’m fine, Liv. Really.”

“I’m sorry, but I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s…personal.”

“Personal? Oh, my. Are you sleeping with Luke again?”

Claire stammers. The look on her face suggests that she didn’t expect you to jump to that conclusion. “What? How did you even–”

“Are you?” you repeat your question.

The last time she slept with Luke Cage, she lied to you about it. She knew you would worry. It’s only natural for you to come to that conclusion now. Except that Luke is in prison, serving his sentence, and it doesn’t make sense.

“How would I sleep with an incarcerated man?” Claire deadpans.

“I’m sure you have your ways,” you say.

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“That’s… true, but it’s coming from a place of love.”

She responds with a sigh. “I don’t wanna fight.”

You join in. You exhale, slowly lowering yourself down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Just tell me you’re okay, please.”

She offers you a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” she says.

“Thank you.”

You choose to believe her. For the time being, at least.

The silence tugs at your brain cells. You obsessed over Claire’s situation because you didn’t want to face your own, but now that your thoughts have regained the freedom to roam and cause irreversible destruction, you start spiraling again.

You reach into your bag.

“You brought wine,” Claire points out.

“Yep,” you say. The bottle weighs heavily in your hand.

“You need a glass?”

You unscrew the top. “No.”

She doesn’t listen. Claire makes her way into the kitchen, reaching for the wine glasses in the cupboard. “Does this have anything to do with why your nose is all blue and swollen?”

You shake your head at her question. “That was a patient I tried to sedate. No, I, uh… I have a date,” your voice falls flat.

The wine glasses move back into the cupboard. Claire turns around, her eyebrows moving up to her hairline. “Come again?”

“I have a date.”

Saying it out loud makes it real. Something so surreal cannot be real, but it is. You have a date with Matt Murdock. Your heart begins racing again, and you feel the same desperate urge to scream into the nearest pillow again.

You take a sip of wine straight from the bottle. You have a date with a nice man who, for the first time in two years, made you see some resemblance of light at the end of this endless tunnel of despair, and the thought alone is terrifying. Because how are you supposed to live after just existing for the longest time? After you dedicated your life to the act of survival?

Claire steps out of the kitchen and in front of you. “Liv, that’s… that’s amazing!” she says. She sounds like a proud mother. Maybe she is.

You want to shake your head, but you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than put the bottle back against your lips and take another sip. The alcohol burns down your esophagus into your stomach, spreading a warm feeling through your fragile body, and into your broken soul.

“Or not,” she corrects herself upon seeing the expression you’re carrying. Your eyes are empty. “I’m confused,” She pauses, “Are we not happy about the fact that you’ve finally got a date after two years of being miserable?”

If she puts it like that, you feel even more miserable. Another sip of wine finds its way down your throat.

“Okay, maybe you should put the bottle down. I’m sorry if I said something wrong–”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” You put the bottle down.

Claire sits down next to you, but you get up before she can take your hand and look at you with that caring look she always gives you when she’s worried. You’re not even mad that she played your concerns down when you expressed them and now she is expressing concerns about you; you’re mad at yourself.

She watches you. “You have a date. That’s a good thing. It means you allowed yourself to finally say yes to someone interested in you, right?”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You’re pacing over the creaky floorboards. “The last time I went on a date with someone was after my intern year.”

Her gaze softens. “You told me that,” she murmurs.

“He took me to a restaurant,” you tell her. Your lip quivers as you speak, and your nails dig into your palms until they draw blood. You can barely feel it. His face is right in front of you. “It was a nice restaurant. He paid for me, even offered me his jacket while we were walking home. It was the best date I ever had. And then he kissed me on the doorstep before wishing me a good night.”

“I know. You told me all of that before. But you couldn’t have known that he would turn out to be who he turned out to be. He was your boss. He had no right—”

“That is precisely the problem, Claire!” your voice breaks. “The guy I met, he’s… his name is Matthew. He’s… he is so nice to me. He cares. He treats me like a human being. He… he’s respectful. He called me beautiful. I don’t even know how he knows that. He just… he was so nice to me, and I feel so comfortable around him. I haven’t felt this comfortable around a man in so long. I… I wanted to go out with him. I flirted with him, for fuck’s sake! And when I’m with him, I finally feel wanted again.”

“But you know who else was nice to me when I first met him?” you say. “Who was respectful? Who said I was the only real thing in this world, the only important thing in his life, and that he loved me? You know who made me feel safe and wanted, and who said he cared about me? John said that I was the most beautiful woman on this planet, and I fell for it because he was nice to me. He–”

“But that guy isn’t John,” Claire cuts you off. She raises her voice only slightly—only enough to make you stop and stare at her, tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re miserable. You’re a mess. It is truly embarrassing. But she doesn’t look at you any differently.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you snap back.

“Liv–”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I’m 32, and I can’t sleep without a nightlight most nights because I wake up in a cold sweat. I can’t drop a glass without going into shock. I can’t look in the mirror without feeling his hands on me. Without feeling disgusting and worthless, and…” You can feel the shiver traveling up your spine from the thought alone. “I can’t exist without feeling like he should have killed me when he got the chance.”

“Liv, I know you’re upset, but please, don’t say that,” Claire says, her voice gentle yet assertive.

“Why? It’s true. I wish he would’ve killed me. He took four years of my life that I can never get back. At least if he’d killed me I wouldn’t have to suffer now.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you saying things like that.”

“You don’t get it,” you say. “Every time I look in the mirror, I want to vomit because I see what he made of me. I can’t even meet a nice guy and allow myself to like him without seeing his face and hearing his stupid voice in my ear, telling me—telling me that no one will ever love me, that he tainted me, and that I will never be free of him because I can’t exist without him.” You break into a sob.

“And he was right, you know,” you cry. “I ran from him. I made the hardest decision of my life after years of living in his shadow, and I almost died. Because of him, I can’t trust a kind and respectful man who treats me like a person to actually be kind, and I recoil at the thought of someone being gentle with me. Something is seriously broken inside of me, Claire. Very, very broken.”

Claire opens her mouth, but all she can do is bear your tirade. She knows that if she speaks now, you will find another reason to shut her down. This is your pain talking. It’s a powerful avalanche set out to cause destruction on a global scale.

“With Matt, I—” you exhale. “I was myself around him for the first time since I ran away, and he didn’t shy away. I had hope, Claire. I felt like I could finally step into normal life again after settling down here, and I thought I’d have a chance,” you say. “But I just have to close my eyes, and John is right there to ruin everything for me. He is always right there, and I can’t fucking escape him. That’s the problem. That’s why I can’t be happy about this date because I’m fucking terrified. I can’t go through this again. I—I can’t give myself to someone again because there is hardly anything left of me. He took everything, including my ability to love another man ever again, and that thought is fucking with my head.”

You fall silent. The tears continue running down your cheeks, and you bury your face in your hands. Your knees are so weak. You don’t have it in you to hold yourself up any longer. You drop to the carpet, crying into your hands, but you don’t sob. You stay silent because your pain is so great, you don’t know whether to scream or shut down, so you scream internally and shut down from the world around you because you can’t face it. You can’t face Claire.

The couch creaks. Her feet brush against the carpet. “He abused you,” her voice borders above a whisper.

She kneels beside you, her hand reaching out—but not touching you. She knows what lines to cross and which to better leave untouched.

“What he did to you wasn’t your fault. He’s a cruel man with cruel intentions.” When you don’t shy away from her proximity, she finally places her hand on your shoulder. “You did the impossible. You survived. You’re here now because you chose to save yourself, and that is so admirable,” she says. “It’s been two years. You’re safe here, you’re not alone anymore, and I know it hurts and it is terrifying, but it’s a good sign that you want to feel more of what this guy made you feel.”

“But I can’t,” you choke out.

“I know, and I wish I could help you, but I’m not a professional. The truth is, John may have made you feel like there is nothing left of you, but you’re not Olivia Clarke. You’re still you. You’re still…” Claire takes a deep breath before she utters your name. Your real name. The one you were given when you were born.

The mention of your name makes you shiver. “She’s gone,” you say. “He killed her, but he left her body alive.”

“She’s not gone, she’s just buried very fucking deep. I mean, you said it yourself. You could be yourself around this other guy, and he took you for who you are. That isn’t Olivia, that’s you. And it’s such a good sign that you want to go out with him. That you like him. John hurt you, but he didn’t break you beyond repair. Please, you have to remember that.”

Your tears slowly subside. Her words finally manage to reach your rebelling mind through your ears. Even though everything feels like it has been wrapped in cotton, she manages to get through to you like no one else. It was a subconscious decision to come to her, but perhaps your soul knew something that you didn’t, and you can’t say that opening up didn’t help.

The mess slowly subsides. Left behind is nothing but hot air, and the words Claire decided to share with you.

You look up to meet her eyes. She smiles down at you. “I just… I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whisper.

“That’s why I think you should go on that date,” she tells you.

“Yeah, but who wants to sign up for a mess like me?”

“Seems like he does. And if he’s a good guy, he’ll like you regardless of your mess.”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

She shrugs. “I hate to break it to you, but you can’t pretend it never happened. And you can’t give John the satisfaction of putting your life on hold because of him. That’s just giving him what he wants.”

“I don’t want to give him what he wants,” you’re quick to answer.

Claire hands you a tissue, and you take it gratefully, wiping your runny nose and the salty tears stuck to your dry skin.

Her words stir something within you; even though you don’t want her to be right, she is. Matt may not deserve a mess like you, but if he’s truly a good guy, it can’t hurt to see if it would work between you. And when your past comes out eventually, there is a chance that he won’t abandon you. A slight chance, but a chance nonetheless. That’s a positive outlook you still have to learn how to adapt.

“C’mon.” Claire helps you off the floor and onto the couch.

You reach for the bottle of wine instantly, but she takes it away from you. She screws the top back on and places it aside, far out of your desperate reach.

“This is not the answer,” she says, “talking is.”

“Can’t we talk and have wine?” you counter.

“Not when you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

You sniff, wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks with the tissue.

“We need to take care of you, and alcohol won’t fix your problems.”

Once again, she isn’t wrong. You let out a defeated sigh before dropping your head in her lap.

A long time ago, you used to be an affectionate person. The fear of being hurt again, of someone raising their hand against you, took that away from you. With Claire though, it’s different. You know she won’t hurt you. She’s not that kind of person, and you can say that with complete certainty.

Claire Temple is not a violent human being, except for when the people she loves are in danger, but only then.

She gently brushes the hair out of your face and crumbles it into a messy bun at the back of your head. She wipes at your nose and the last of your tears before they can dry out your skin more than it already is. The past couple of days have taken an emotional and physical toll on you.

You wince slightly when you notice how sore your nose is. It isn’t broken, but you still got hit. You’re not quite healed yet. A shiver rolls down your spine.

Shaking her head, Claire gently removes her hand. “You always get yourself in trouble when I’m not around,” she mutters.

You scoff softly. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

“A sign for you to be more careful, yeah,” she says.

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” You try to joke, but your voice falls flat with the weight of your exhaustion.

Claire offers you a chuckle, but it’s more of a pity laugh than anything else.

You sigh. You know that you’re not an example when it comes to the significance of making the right decisions. Not at all.

“Did I ever thank you for saving my life?” you ask her then, breaking the silence between you in two.

She leans back against the cushions. “Once or twice.”

“Not nearly enough then.”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, if you hadn’t come into Metro General with your hand in a man’s chest cavity, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to help you. You chose to stay.”

“Well, I had my hand on his vena cava, so, letting go would have been unfortunate for the poor guy.”

“That’s true.”

“But if you hadn’t disobeyed protocol, risking your job by putting your trust in me, I wouldn’t have had a reason to stay.”

Claire looks down at you, and you meet her eyes. “That sounded a lot like a love confession,” she nudges you.

You roll your eyes playfully. “You wish.”

“Hey, I’d understand it if you were in love with me. I’m hot.”

She never fails to make you laugh, even when you feel like a truck has rolled you over and broken every bone in your body. That is one of the many qualities you value about her. She’s a good person with a good heart, and she is the kind of person you could trust with your life and she would always make sure that you come out on the other side unharmed, mentally and physically.

If she hadn’t taken you under her wing, you’re not sure where you would be, but it surely wouldn’t be where you are now.

When your laughter quiets down, you nod. “I can’t argue with that. You are hot. If you weren’t my friend,” you say, “I’d ask you out.”

“And if I were into women, I’d say yes,” she says.

“I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of dates though–” She stops when you sigh a little too loudly. Claire shoots you a stern glare before she continues, “Promise me you won’t cancel.”

It’s not a question, it’s a statement. She wants you to mean it. You won’t lie; canceling your plans with Matt did cross your mind, but after Claire worked her magic on you, you can see a little clearer. The fog that kept your mind clouded has started to lift slowly but steadily. You��re no longer spiraling as fast as you have before.

If you could wash your hands and wash him off of you, it wouldn’t be as much of a problem as it is, but you’ve tried. You have tried washing all memory of him off of your body, out of your mind, but he’s a resilient son of a bitch. John will always try to drive a wedge between you and a normal, happy life, the question is just if you will allow him to do so without even being near you, or if you will finally allow yourself to crawl out of the dark hole he tossed you into.

You can’t do it alone, and asking for help is terrifying. You have spent the past two years trying to push through. Unfortunately, your healthy coping mechanisms won’t work forever.

You sigh again, a little quieter. “I won’t cancel,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, yet still so very certain. As certain as you can be, anyway.

“Thank you.” Claire reaches for the wine bottle next to the couch. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Hm,” you can only murmur.

“What?”

“What are you doing with the bottle?” you ask.

“Drinking,” she says.

“Now I feel betrayed.”

“You should celebrate the fact that you found a Matt, or whatever his name is, and not another Mike.”

You promptly sit up. “Hold up. Pause. Rewind. Mike, like your ex?”

Claire takes a sip of the bottle. A storm rages behind her hazel eyes. You have never seen her that conflicted before.

“Is he the personal reason why you’re subjecting yourself to a constant allergic reaction by staying here?” you ask.

The pieces slowly start falling into place. She nods. “Not Mike Mike, but yeah. It’s always the Mike’s.”

Your jaw drops. “I feel like you skipped some chapters there. You met a guy and you didn’t tell me? What–”

“He met me,” she corrects you. “I didn’t tell you because we’re not a thing. Let’s just say there’s a reason his name is Mike. That’s why I’m here.”

Claire takes another sip. You watch her closely, trying to catch her in a lie, but it seems like she’s telling the truth—or a version of the actual truth, but that still makes it true. She’s giving you as much as she can after you cried your eyes out to her.

You clear your throat, lowering your voice. “But you’re not in danger?” you ask to clarify.

She shakes her head. “I just have shitty taste in men, even if it's platonic, apparently. It’s like… I’m trying to exist, and then I find a stray cat in a dumpster, but the stray cat has been stabbed and needs medical attention.”

“But you’re allergic to cats and you’re not a vet?” you try to make sense of her analogy.

When she lets out a sigh and nods, you figure you came as close as possible. It still doesn’t make sense to you, but when does anything? At least when it comes to romance and people’s love lives.

You decide to push a little more, “Did you actually find an injured guy in a dumpster?”

She shakes her head. The reaction comes a little fast, but you don’t question it. “No, that–that was just an analogy,” Claire says.

“And Mike is the stray cat in that analogy? But not your Mike, another Mike?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, you’re frying my brain cells.”

“The single one you still have, or did you buy new ones?”

You try not to laugh, trying to look like you are genuinely offended, but your lips still curl up into a smile. “Shut up,” you mutter. You reach for the bottle, against better judgment, and take a sip.

Claire shakes her head. “What I’m trying to tell you is that, if he’s a good guy, you can’t let him slip away. You can’t let a good thing slip away and possibly end up with a–a Mike kinda guy for the rest of your life.”

“I know.” You look down at your hands, your broken fingernails, and sore knuckles from the constant scrubbing. “I just wish I could understand what he’s doing to me without questioning my entire existence.”

“Some people are just that enigmatic,” and she sounds as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about.

You wonder about Mike. Not her ex-boyfriend but the one she mentioned. He sounds like he has no sense of self-preservation, and he may not even be a good influence. He reminds you of yourself, and that’s creepy—you don’t even know him.

And then there is Matt, who is also so eerily similar to you, but in different ways. It’s more of an emotional connection. His heart is in the right place. And unlike the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, he doesn’t have a savior complex.

Why did he even come to your mind? His existence should not be playing into the equation. You brush the picture of his chiseled chest in that tight shirt away, or the way he looked even more dangerous with that smirk below the the mask.

You hand the wine bottle back to Claire. If you don’t cut yourself off now, you will melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

Your focus should be on Matt and Matt alone. You have to try. Claire was right. You can’t sacrifice your happiness because you’re scared—you can’t give the man who dedicated his life to breaking you and your confidence down the satisfaction of cowering in fear every time a man shows an interest in you. A good man. A man who could make you happier than he ever had.

You won’t run this time. You will face the situation head-on. You owe that much to the little girl who dreamed of a life beyond the hell she grew up in, the same girl who was obsessed with finding her soulmate and still believed in true love. Above everyone, you owe it to yourself. No one else matters quite as much as you do.

And for the sake of seeing what could be instead of wondering what could have been, you have to try.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #reader insert #charlie cox #doctor!reader #do no harm

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kiwiana-writes · 11 days

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Fic Pride Friday

Thank you to the fabulous @rmd-writes for the tag! As always, though, with 239 fanworks on AO3, this is a beast of a task lmfao.

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

This got long (and I'm like... actively trying not to Feel Bad™️ about that), so four fandoms' worth of snippets under the cut!

Tagging: @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise

@dumbpeachjuice @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged

And, of course, an open tag to whoever wants to play!

Red White & Royal Blue

What a beautiful tone aka introspective rimming:

Henry has touched Alex in a thousand different ways since he shook the hand of a beautiful boy with a yellow ipê-amarelo in his pocket and fell in love, so he doesn’t quite understand why he’s trembling as he rolls them both until Alex is on his back, hair spread out on the pillow, lips parted slightly and eyes filled with trust as Henry settles on top of him. With his arms bracketing Alex’s shoulders, Henry places a hand on Alex’s jaw and pours all the love and pride that’s been coursing through his veins since Alex delivered his speech into a deep kiss, his tongue running along Alex’s bottom lip, coaxing it further open. The noise Alex makes in response is devastating. He’s a live wire, arching up into Henry’s touch in a way that is somehow both entirely nonsexual and an unbelievable turn on. Alex moves like he’s trying to crawl inside Henry’s skin, letting out soft moans and shivering gasps that burrow their way between Henry’s fourth and fifth ribs and carve out a place for themselves there, somewhere only Alex has ever reached.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, the coffee shop 5+1 where Alex is so hot it very literally makes Henry stupid:

“How can I do you today?” Bollocksing, buggering fuck. Henry’s going to have to migrate to Tristan Da Cunha. Actually, while that’s the most remote place he knows of, he’s also fairly certain they’re a British Overseas Territory and therefore speak English, which isn’t particularly helpful in his current predicament. He’ll brainstorm, though he expects that the long and sordid history of global British colonisation is really not going to be his friend here. Walking Wet Dream blinks slowly—once, twice—before his face splits into a wide grin. “Tempting fucking offer, sweetheart.” A tongue peeks out to wet a pair of plump lips, which only provides Henry with some extremely vivid ideas for what else might look good between those same lips, and oh Christ, if he actually gets hard underneath this hideous apron he’ll have to lock himself in his own basement. The fact that he doesn’t have a basement is immaterial, really.

A Practical Arrangement, the arranged marriage AU -- tbh I'm proud of ALL of Alex's internal narration about Henry in chapter one but this is a particular favourite:

“I thought Windsor valued courtly manners?” Alex grins widely, tampering down a smirk at the way Henry’s ridiculously chiselled jaw twitches, obviously displeased at the way Alex is going off-script. “As your betrothed, surely you should be showering me with compliments as you greet me?” Henry raises an eyebrow, and looks at Alex in a way that makes him suddenly, viscerally aware of the four inches of height Henry has on him. It’s a height difference that has always put Alex on edge; it never used to be the case, Alex is pretty sure from the vague memories he has of them in their younger years, but between one meeting and the next, suddenly Henry was no longer at his eye level. “As soon as I find something to compliment, I assure you I shall do so.” Alex almost laughs; that was funny. Rude and untrue, but funny. It’s a shocking amount of personality for Henry to display. “Back in Texas, they extol my many virtues, Your Royal Highness,” he drawls, pointedly ignoring June’s scoff. “Do you need me to give you a list?” “I’m sure they do,” Henry says gravely, but there’s a flicker of something at the corner of his mouth that could almost be a smirk. There’s a long pause before he adds: “…in Texas.” Alex’s jaw drops before he can stop it. That absolute fucker.

Kinda think that I might be his type, the Alex and Bea fake dating fic that blew up in a way I wasn't expecting but am forever grateful for; I'm proud of this whole damn fic but this line made me get up and walk away from my computer after writing it lmao:

“Don’t worry, though.” He winks at Bea, tampering down a grin at the way she bites her lip as she realises whatever he’s about to say is at serious risk of making her laugh. “We’re not going to wait until I’m out of school to start popping out great-grandbabies for you. I wanna be papi for real, not just to my little honeypot here, if you know what I mean.” The sharp clatter of Mary’s teacup against her saucer thankfully drowns out the choked wheezing sound from Bea’s throat; Alex only risks glancing at Bea for a moment, just enough to realise she’s fighting for her life not to burst out laughing. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up before he sounds like he’s reading lines from a terribly scripted and vaguely racist porno.

Puck It, the college hockey AU with my favourite analogy I've ever written:

Alex is aware that he might be bisexual in the same way he’s aware that he might be allergic to cats; there have been a few brief interactions to make him think it’s probably true, but so far it hasn’t had any impact on his life, so he hasn’t really had a reason to look into it and find out for sure. Now, faced with Henry’s clavicle and the sudden, vivid mental image of sinking his teeth into it, he’s not sure how theoretical it is anymore.

Handprints in wet cement, the 5+1 celebration of Henry's Oxford Slut Phase that is just so important to me:

“It’s not.” Alex’s fingers flex a little, digging into Henry’s skin. “It’s— you had all these experiences, and sometimes I can’t believe you want to share them all with me. That you’ll just tell me about them, and if it’s something we’re both into, we can just… go for it. It means a lot. You know that, right?” Henry blinks at him. If he’s honest, he’s never really understood Alex’s eagerness to hear about Henry’s uni hookups; Henry himself, while not bothered by Alex’s own past, has never felt any particular need to seek out stories about it either. He’d just assumed it was another facet of Alex’s insatiable need to understand things; he hadn’t realised it was important.

I've carried this song in my mind, the Arthur-from-beyond-the-grave fic, have one of the many MANY passages that made me cry to write lmfao:

You don’t need to find Orion, Arthur wants to tell him. I’m in every constellation, in your heart, in your soul. I’m here. I’m always here. But Henry can’t hear him.

Schitt's Creek

Wander Where They Will, aka the swans fic:

It felt like only a moment later that something woke him, though the pitch-black room made it obvious it had been several hours since he dozed off. It had been so long since he was in such close proximity to other people that David didn’t realise what he was hearing, at first. The gasp that rang out in the silence made his eyes snap open and his body tense up, and there was a thump and a high-pitched, muffled moan before the realisation slammed into him. He shifted in the bed, trying to block out the sounds out of a sense of… privacy, he supposed, or decorum. That must be why his stomach was clenching, so tight he could barely breathe. Patrick, it seemed, approached lovemaking the way David has seen him approach everything else—quiet, determined, methodical. All the noises coming from their corner of the cottage seemed to be Rachel’s; only a rhythmic panting betrayed Patrick’s part in the process. Even at the end, he barely made a sound. David couldn’t help thinking, as silence filled the cottage and pulled him backwards into sleep, that it was a terrible shame; that everyone deserved the kind of pleasure that rushed through them, untamed and uncontrollable.

Femslash February 2021, where I decided one entry needed to not only be a drabble (100 words exactly) like every other day's prompt, but ALSO a sonnet:

A princess resides in a castle fair Who Stevie beholds when sneaking ashore— With aquamarine eyes and golden hair, She’s all that Stevie is so longing for. If she had legs, or the princess a tail, Perhaps Stevie could be part of her world— But fate's harsh currents their union assails, Separating them with an eddy's whirl. So Stevie lingers, and watches, and dreams About a union between sea and land, Wishing it weren't as complex as it seems For them to lie together on the sand. But unbeknownst, a princess dreams, too— Of a raven-haired mermaid, pure and true.

And all the rest's illusion, the fic where Patrick works through his feelings about the word queer and every single comment made me cry:

And that’s really the crux of the issue, because it’s not that he’s uncomfortable in his sexuality. If he was, that would be easier to explain — right from the start, David never put a label onto him. Patrick was the one who’d whispered I’m gay into the sliver of space between them that night at Stevie’s, and David had just given him the same easy smile and nod that Patrick’s sure he would have received if instead his declaration had been I’m bi or I’m pan or I don’t know right now. His discomfort is more of a nagging, deep-seated fear that he’s not entitled to queer; that because he’s never been called a slur or worried about whether or not it was safe to kiss his partner in public or even come out to his parents, the word isn’t his to reclaim.

I haven't met the new me yet, the fic where I just dragged everyone onto the Jake/Rachel train with me by force, no I don't care that they never met in canon:

Despite herself, her eyes keep finding her way back to one of the pool players. He’s tall and well-built, with a close-cropped beard; he carries himself easily, joking with his friend, the flannel shirt stretching across his back as he lines up his next shot. When he stands up after sinking the ball easily, he turns around too quickly for Rachel to pretend she was looking elsewhere and their eyes meet. The smile he gives her isn’t quite cocky, though it’s close; it’s just confident, and confidence has always done something for her. She smiles back before picking up her beer, draining the last of it and trying not to grin around the neck of the bottle when his eyes drop to her throat as she does. She’d forgotten how good it can feel, to flirt with a stranger across a… okay, this isn’t exactly a crowded room, but still. Across a room. She doesn’t make any secret of watching as the guy and his friend finish up the game, the one she’s watching sinking the black easily with several of the stripes still on the table, and he hands his cue to his friend before striding over to the bar and leaning over to get the bartender’s attention.

Meet me out at the end of my rope, aka angstapalooza. The outline @ships-to-sail gave me for the end of chapter three just read "David leaves after possibly the most tender but heart wrenching kiss they’ve ever had, that’s ever been written, ever, in the history of written kissing" and then I had to... write that???

Patrick puts the box down gently before he holds his hand out. When David places the key in his palm Patrick wraps his fingers around David’s, their palms pressed together. Despite everything, it still feels like coming home; before he quite realises what he’s doing he presses Patrick back into the doorframe, his free hand wrapping around Patrick’s neck as he pours all the emotion swirling around inside him into one final kiss. Patrick, for his part, tugs David in close, his fingers winding through David’s hair as he shakes under David’s touch. When David finally pulls away he can see Patrick’s cheeks are wet with tears, and he knows his are too. He doesn’t know if they’re his own or Patrick’s or both. Patrick stares at him, his tone helpless. “You’re the love of my life, David Rose.” David closes his eyes as his resolve almost breaks. When he opens them again, Patrick’s face is blurry and indistinct in front of him as he tries not to let more tears fall. “No one is ever going to love me the way you did.” The words are choked out, but when Patrick opens his mouth to reply David shakes his head to stop him. “But no one ever lied to me like you did, either.”

How much love will you happily take -- I apparently awakened a humiliation kink in multiple people with this one and I will never not be proud of that 🤣

“No, that’s not— it’s not for lack of trying.” David being so kind about this is making it ten times harder to spit the words out and he drops his gaze, picking at Stevie’s faded bedspread so he doesn’t have to see the look in David’s eyes. He can feel the all-too-familiar crackle of humiliation crawling up his spine, knows his embarrassment is clear on his face, and it makes his throat tighten and his stomach clench and his cock twitch and he hates it, loves it, wants to poke at it like a bruise until it consumes him. “It’s been, um, a size issue?” There’s a beat, and then David is placing a gentle finger under his chin and turning Patrick to face him. His face is warm and open and Patrick likes him so much it’s kind of terrifying; he desperately needs this night not to end up another disaster. “That,” David says, voice soft, “is only an issue if we make it an issue. And I don’t plan on making it an issue.”

Wearing glass slippers, I got my Chucks, the Stevie/Alexis tattoo/flower shop AU my beloved:

“Did people send you flowers when your aunt passed away?” Alexis asks pointedly. “Yeah.” She doesn’t say, It was a huge pain in the ass, actually, because I had to throw them all out when they died, but from the look Alexis is giving her at least some of that must show on her face. “Congratulations and commiserations,” she says slowly. “That’s when everyone wants to give flowers: births, deaths, weddings, anniversaries. It’s like, human nature or whatever. There’s something…” she takes a deep breath. “It’s a sign of trust, I think. To be a tiny part of someone’s biggest moments like that. Even if just from the sidelines.” Stevie has tattooed children’s names and wedding bands, handprints and pawprints and important dates. She’s never thought about it quite like that before. “I get that,” she murmurs.

Great Acoustics, aka the cast did a Zoom thing in-character during Covid and had a throwaway line to justify David and Patrick not being in the same room and I just entered a fugue state and wrote porn about it in like an hour:

They make it ten days before their first noise complaint, which is frankly about nine days longer than David expected. They’ve been worse than usual, to be fair, with something as simple as a lockable door apparently now an aphrodisiac to both of them. Patrick goes about twelve shades of red when the official notice is pushed under their door, and then the pillow makes a reappearance. It’s all very fucking hot, actually, seeing buttoned-up, in-control Patrick reduced to a whimpering, begging, uncontrollable mess. Eventually, David manages to convince him that if something must go in his mouth during sex, there are several better options. No, not that. Well, obviously, sometimes that.

A focused moment made, kinkverse part one that I very much intended to be a oneshot lmfao RIP

For a few moments, the only sound is their combined harsh breathing as they recover. Almost before David realises what’s happening he’s being pulled gently to his feet, and then Patrick is framing David’s face in his hands and kissing him soundly. And David’s been kissed a lot during a scene, and a few times before one, but never once has someone kissed him in a sex club after they’ve already come. He lets out a startled but not unhappy yelp and Patrick takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue into David’s now-open mouth, chasing the taste of himself, making them both groan. Finally Patrick releases him with one last, almost chaste, kiss. He drops one hand but leaves the other on David’s cheek, gazing carefully at him, his face soft and open. “I’ve never done that before, with a guy,” Patrick confesses after a moment of silence. David raises an eyebrow, quirks a lip. “The flogging or the blowjob?” “Uh,” Patrick scratches the back of his head as he flushes slightly. “Both? But also, um.” His eyes flicker down to David’s lips and back up, and David gives a soft little Oh of understanding. “Baby dom and baby gay, huh?”

Your heart is keeping time with me, the 50 First Dates AU that I think has the best ending I've ever written? So, uh, spoilers-ish, I guess:

This isn’t a romantic comedy. There will be no miraculous, medically impossible recovery. Every morning for the rest of his life, David will wake up and have to be told that he has a husband he doesn’t recognise; a husband who loves him. But after he’s been told, Patrick will set out to prove it to him, with laughter and music and patient understanding. And because love is so much more than conscious memory, David will go to sleep each night in Patrick’s arms, safe and secure and content. Even though it’s not a film or a fairytale, they will still live happily ever after.

Other

We always walked a very thin line, aka the fic I furiously spite-wrote in three hours after watching Happiest Season lmfao:

When they were little, they were convinced if they practised enough they could develop some sort of psychic link; talk to each other over long distances without tying up the phone lines their dads always used for important business calls. They gave up eventually, but Riley finds herself desperately wishing for the talent now. Come on, Harper. Be braver for her than you were for me. “She’s lying!” The words burst hysterically out of Harper’s mouth, and Riley’s heart sinks.

We knew we were the fortunate ones, because obviously I watched episode 3 of The Last Of Us and immediately started writing, what do you take me for?

He knows that the last four years have been kinder to him than to almost anyone else; he also knows that he doesn’t look like those men in the magazines, the ones he used to drive thirty miles out of his way to buy, shoulders hunched and not making eye contact with the store clerk in case he found himself subjected to judgement — or worse, conversation.

#fic pride friday #kiwiana-writes

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cottoncandyafterdark · 6 days

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Parenting Heacanons - Chuuya, Atsushi

Character(s): Chuuya Nakahara; Atsushi Nakajima (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Tags: SFW, fluff, familial, headcanons

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy

Notes: AFAB reader; originally posted on ao3 here; this is old and I'm not caught up with the manga now so sorry if anything seems strange

Chuuya

I'm not going to lie, Chuuya's initial response to finding out his partner is pregnant is not going to be very positive. He's not angry or anything, but he didn't really want kids and doesn't feel the slightest bit ready to be a father. He isn't going to run away, though; he knows it's sorta his fault you're in this situation to begin with so he's going to swallow his pride and stick around for your sake.

He spends the whole pregnancy low-key dreading having to take care of a baby. Mostly because he's got no clue how to do that. That's not to say he isn't trying to find out how; if you check his browser history at this point, it'll probably be a lot of parenting articles.

He'll say he wants to leave naming the baby to you but if you come up with name ideas and ask him for his thoughts on them Oh Boy will he have some opinions for you.

As soon as the baby is born and he gets to hold it, it's like all his apprehension just vanishes into thin air, he is immediately in love. Like, he looks this tiny, helpless human he helped make in the eyes and immediately knows he would kill and die for them.

I think that it would be a more interesting dynamic if he had a daughter; he'd still be a good father to a son, but with a daughter, he would truly be wrapped around her little finger. That little girl will be SO spoiled, she'll be the one all her classmates want to be friends with because she has all the newest video games and the best dolls.

Lord have mercy on anyone who tries to bully his daughter, not just because he'll be more than willing to beat them up but if she's inherited any of her dad's personality, so will she. If she gets in trouble at school for fighting back against a bully, she will get high fives and ice cream from Chuuya.

When she's old enough, he'll teach her to fight for real. He knows he won't always be there to protect her, so he wants her to be able to keep herself safe.

Once she's old enough to start dating, Chuuya will do the entire protective dad routine to any boys she might bring home. He will all but do a full interrogation about what they're planning, make it known that he knows how to hide a body, and if they bring her home even a minute late he is going to lose it.

Word will get around about this. It is not going to be easy for Chuuya's daughter to find a prom date.

Atsushi

In the early stages of pregnancy Atsushi is going to feel sicker than you.

This poor boy is straight-up terrified to be a parent at first because of what his own childhood was like. It isn't that he doesn't want to have children, exactly, he just doesn't want to end up continuing the cycle of abuse. Of course, the fact that he's worried about that at all is enough to tell you that he'll be a fine father, but good luck convincing him of that.

Once his child is born, all his worries are going to lead him to go so far in the opposite direction, he's probably never going to so much as raise his voice at the kid. He is a major pushover of a parent, Atsushi's child could get away with murder.

He's also going to have a hard time denying them anything they want. This is going to be another spoiled child for sure. The kid's probably going to end up as a bit of a brat because of this, and Atsushi can't even get mad because he knows it's no one's fault but his own.

On the positive side of things he's going to be such a supportive dad as well. He'll be in the front row of any recitals, plays, spelling bees, anything like that his child participates in and he is going to clap the loudest because he's so proud of them!!!

He'll try to help them with their math homework at some point, but quickly realize that he doesn't really know how to do math either. Much frantic googling will ensue as Atsushi tries to quickly learn long division for his child's sake.

When they get old enough to start hanging out with friends on their own, Atsushi is going to be so worried if they stay out later than they said they would, even if it's just by a few minutes. He'll also want to know exactly who they're with and where they're going. He isn't trying to be overbearing, he just has anxiety.

Voted most likely to cry when his child moves out. Empty nest syndrome is gonna hit him so hard. His child is probably going to get daily texts from their honorary aunts and uncles at the Agency reminding them to call their dad.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #atsushi nakajima #bsd chuuya #bsd atsushi #bsd headcanons #old fic

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 10 months

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Shades of Red - Chapter III | 5k

chapter one | chapter two ao3 | masterlist

✦ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you’ll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won’t. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn; ✦ Chapter TW: trauma mentions as always, slight mention of obsessive behavior just again! bit of stalker!ghost

A/N: Hi girlies! I'm proud to say the story is finally about to begin for real and I'm hoping for some feedback on pacing, how you guys thing it's going so far and any tips on how to get better if there's any. Thank you for reading me and I love y'all ♥

taglist: @simpinginthecorner; @ghostlythots; @fine141; @dmitriene; @maviee

Chapter 03 - Foolish Girl

“Can you handle more, fecker? I’m pretty sure he can.” a voice asked, and he felt another kick hit his head; there was blood everywhere, he could barely feel his own mouth but the taste of metal that kept dripping through his teeth, the open wounds on his lips.

He didn’t answer. Not a single word came out of his mouth, not a single whimper; it was like he was made of iron: he would flinch, but his sole skin seemed quite tough, hard; made of something other than human matter. It was impossible, they thought. Doesn’t this guy suffer? Is he dead?

No, he wasn’t dead. There were still heartbeats, he was still breathing. How was he breathing?

“Drown him.” the same voice ordered and they made a move around, three guys carrying him. He could think of nothing at all. How do you survive torture?

There’s a moment your body reaches complete numbness. You stop feeling pain, you stop feeling anything at all; it’s like it just awaits for you to give in. If a rookie asked Ghost how he manages to be unbeatable, to be beaten up fourteen times in a row and keep himself awake, he’d simply answer: refuse to give in.

When his body reaches complete numbness, he absorbs it. He does nothing. He resists, doesn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t deny he wanted, so badly, so many times to give up - but it wasn’t under his jurisdiction, to give up.

It had been days. Eight, to be more precise.

Eight days since you last saw or heard anything about Ghost or his squad. And also eight days since you finally decided to put some effort in yourself.

Just throwing aside all of your insecurities, your fears and the emptiness that overcame you ever since the incident wasn’t the most clever decision, you knew it very well; but the government assigned a team of health professionals to look after you: a psychiatrist, a therapist and of course, Doris, the nurse - your most recent friend.

Things were starting to catch. You started talking a little more and now you could get out of bed with a wheelchair. Your leg was still looking like jelly - but that didn’t stop you from getting dressed up that day, tuck yourself in the wheelchair and all on your own for the very first time, ride through the hospital hall. There was someone you needed to talk to; didn’t know exactly how that would go: it had been time since you last saw this man. The situation wasn’t the very best on your side, too much trauma, too many memories, and now, facing something you avoided from day one.

You stopped in front of his office door. Getting the elevators without your legs wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, and there you were: your destination. Didn’t take you twenty minutes; that was good.

You took a deep breath and reached for the dark wooden door, big, beautiful: the type of office belonging to a very high pattern person. You knocked.

In not more than twenty seconds, the man’s form showed up in front of you; grey-ish hair, his white coat seeming to be perfectly cut and sewed to be his and his stethoscope hanging from his neck. A yellow smile awkwardly showed up on your face.

“Doctor Miller.” It was a mutter, almost inaudible. He seemed tired, sad, depressed. It’s how you expected him to be, if to be honest, and even so he had that tiny gentle smile printed on his lips.

“Well hello, little miss. I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” He admitted, before gesturing his hand towards you; you took it in a handshake. “I’m glad to see you’re getting better. Come in, please.”

“I’m trying.” You said, grabbing onto the wheelchair’s wheels and pushing yourself inside his office as he opened some space for you. The door was closed behind you, and your face gyrated, noticing the motion.

“I can imagine it’s not going to be so easy, right? I’ve been doing all efforts I can to push the media away from you, getting the best doctors I can involved in your treatment, et cetera.” He motioned with his hands as his hips laid back onto his wooden desk - same wood as the door - and crossed his arms. “Are they being nice to you?”

“Yes- god, yes. They are, I have nothing to complain about…” You responded quickly, feeling somewhat like a burden for hearing those words. “They’re great, yes.”

He nodded with his head, fixing his glasses from the tip of his nose and let out a sigh, finally. His eyes went down to the floor. “I’m glad then, missy. I’m glad.”

Silence fell over the two of you like the big elephant living in the room was taking over all the space that should belong to your air. The air you had to breathe - it was caught up in your throat. You felt your heart sinking and your body tensing up a little, and closed your eyes.

“I’m here for another reason, as you can possibly imagine.” You muttered.

Anthony interrupted you, “Please.” he closed his eyes, and his words got caught up in his throat. A lump there, you knew he was struggling to even think of a less painful way of doing this. “If you’re going to blame yourself then you should know that-”

“Anthony.” You said, your lips already trembling with the tears that formed in your eyes. “I’m really sorry.” You said simply and bluntly, not being able to hold back those painful grieving tears of yours.

He kept silent, and his face turned aside, the stern look on it never leaving but you knew it: in his deepest mind, he could not possibly blame you, but in his heart, seeing you was seeing the only remaining thing of the incident that killed his only child, his daughter - your best friend. And sometimes you couldn’t blame yourself either. For the past eight days, you’ve been avoiding thinking about Amelie. She, who gave off all the opportunities you needed to succeed in med school. One of the best people you ever met, now, had her name written as one of the first ones in a list of 102 victims of a fatal terrorist attack.

To his gut wrenching silence, you spoke again. “She didn’t deserve this.” you muttered, but didn’t dare talking about your own position on all this.

Nobody would like to hear someone else saying they should have died in place of your own child. Especially with this short spend of time - his grief was fresh as a recent stab in the heart.

“None of them did.” He said, and his voice was nothing but a wind whisper on a cold night. “It was a fatality. It’s nobody’s fault but those bastards who did this.” He kept on, swallowing dry and you could almost catch in the air the moment his feelings gravitated from sadness and sorrow to anger and hate, to pain; the glow in his eye changed and he didn’t dare to look at you. “So don’t blame yourself.”

You chewed in false, bite your tongue in an attempt to stop yourself from crying and speaking out everything in your mind.

Silence.

“I’d like to go to the memorial today.” You raised your face to him now, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’ll drop it, Anthony. I just want to see her face again, say goodbye, and then I’ll vanish. I’m promising, I’ll vanish, I-” you tried to keep up, but Anthony turned to you abruptly and a gesture with his hand stopped your talking instantly.

“Drop it? No.” He shook his head, and his tone grew even more stern by the time he spoke. “Are you going insane, lass? Have you lost your senses, no! You won’t drop college because my daughter died.” He said in such a harsh tone it made you flinch a little. You didn’t expect such crude sincerity. “She would want you to continue.”

You shut your eyes tight, shook your head, trying to hold back the painful cry you had stuck in your throat, but this time no - you couldn’t.

“But it is not fair. It’s not fair.” You stuck your face between your hands and started gasping. It was impossible to hold back. The grief he felt was obviously stronger, harder than yours - of course losing a daughter wasn’t the same as losing a best friend.

Amelie had done for you more than anyone else in your life, but still, she was only a dear friend of yours. You didn’t have the right to cry this much, did you?

He lost his daughter. You survived the attack, she was supposed to have gone buying those donuts that day. You offered to go in her place.

It was your fault, wasn’t it?

Only survivor. The only survivor.

Anthony hugged you, tears streaming down his face as he almost lifted you from the wheelchair just to be able to hold you a little tighter in his arms, a fatherly embrace, like he had the opportunity of hugging his own daughter one last time before seeing her slip through his hands like water, dying in such a cruel, vile way. You never had a father, he’d occupy this spot for you ever since you arrived for the first time in this damn country.

He missed a daughter now; that was something else the two of you had in common now: grieving for Amelie.

━ ⟡ ━

There were way too many people there - more than he could ever count. Lots of pictures spread across the beautiful grass in the cemetery, the media recording every single movementation. The UK Intelligence leader was speaking, a speech - a coordinated, very planned and wisely written speech; one made to cause commotion, to stop spreading panic and to slightly criticize the media’s insistent attempts to make the population desperate.

Ghost took a look around, his eyes gleaming through the mask and scanning the surroundings of the immense park-cemetery. Wasn’t too hard finding you, standing with the help of two crutches in front of your wheelchair, siding with the podium in which the man spoke fluidly to the public. Your eyes were lost in the pictures by the floor, surrounded by flowers and candles, preaches for the peace of those who perished.

You were wearing a long white dress, covering your legs - he couldn’t tell the size of the scar but given the fact that you were standing, Ghost supposed it was getting better quickly. Good.

“I’ll walk a bit.” He stated, before giving his back to Gaz and starting to walk away. It was not that a man wearing military gear was precisely discrete among a big crowd of normally dressed civilians, but he for one was a very silent, smooth operator. He kept his distance from the inner part of the crowd, started walking through the surroundings. A slow walk, he kept looking at you, drinking in your emotions.

You were crying - nothing but silent tears, but substantial ones he could notice by the way the light moved and gleamed across your face. Thought to himself if that was only because of the awful colloquy, or if anything else happened in those eight days.

Well, a person in your situation didn’t need a precise reason to cry.

You wouldn’t notice, and in fact nobody else would - but the SWAT team designed to keep the area safe, that there was a man behind you. In distance, in long distance yes - but behind you .

He wore full dark clothes, a hoodie, his face was almost invisible from the distance the people in front of you were. And from even further behind them, Ghost noticed.

His posture changed by the moment he locked his breath on his lungs and tensed up; for a moment, he stopped listening to everyone around. The sounds went quiet, almost mute; the man in the podium had his mouth moving, but no sound coming out of it. Nothing.

In nature, a good predator approaches its prey from the blindspot. From the opposite direction where the cameras are, and if he further knows better - distant from the other animals as well. In the army, you get to learn that position, agility and attitude are three vital points to be considered before attempting an attack. Learning the enemy’s position and with a good aim, before he even tried to do any harm, Ghost could’ve had him on the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead and a crowd of horrified people around the man’s dead body.

Come on. You won’t get closer to her, will you, mate?

He was walking towards you.

You won’t try something. Won’t give me a reason to cancel your bloody name.

Was he grabbing something from his shirt? Something from the pocket of his hoodie, a little something?

Look at me.

He did.

His eyes catched up with Ghost’s, and almost like he could read his own future or in simple lack of courage, he took a step back. And then another. And another, and within seconds, he had his hands stuck in his hoodie pockets again, a straight up posture and nothing on his face anymore. Seemed to be enjoying the ceremony.

Ghost didn’t buy it. He glanced over at the other squad members, trying to see if anyone else but him had noticed the movementation - apparently, not.

He thought of reaching for the man in the crowd; they’d have a interesting chat if he got to lay hands on that cheap looking disguise of his. But when his eyes got back to the place where he was, the man had vanished like thin air.

━ ⟡ ━

Doris held up your wheelchair, folded, around one of her arms. You were walking towards the cemetery, and although you could simply let her push you around, you were enjoying walking by yourself with some help of your crutches.

“At least there was a ceremony. They could have let that pass, like they do to thousands of attacks around the world.” Doris mentioned, while you were concentrating all your energy in your own walking.

“You’d be a fool if you thought they’d let that pass, Doris. Look at where we are.” You argued, conscient of the fact that if you weren’t in such a favored country, perhaps things would be different now. Perhaps you wouldn’t be receiving so much help and attention from the media, or from the government itself. Proof of their selective worry.

“You’re right.” She nodded in a sigh, and looked over at you. “Are you sure you don’t need any help, dear? I can hold your arm at least-”

“No. Thank you, I’m doing well here.” You replied quite fast, without opening space for her to insist much. Even so, you expected to hear her voice in a grumpy complainment about your stubbornness, but instead, a deep charged voice came out and startled you.

“Girl.” He said, looking at you. His stature so tall it startled Doris off a little, too, although she seemed a little less surprised than you for seeing him. “May we talk for a bit?” He looked at Doris, like he was asking for her to excuse the two of you.

You kept two seconds of silence looking into the masked man that now towered over you, before Doris spoke out.

“I’ll be waiting back there in the car, okay, dear?” She asked, and in a nod the woman walked away leaving you with Ghost.

He offered an arm to you, which you eyed and promptly refused, waving your clutches.

“I’m fine with those.”

“Alright.” He nodded and walked a bit, standing by your side and keeping pace with your slow walking.

It wasn’t weird that he was in that place; it was a big event, being televised nationally. A ceremony to the dead, a mere way the government found to redeem themselves for being unable to keep harm from its citizens. Ghost was involved in all that, he of course would be there - but you didn’t expect this conversation to happen.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. Ever, actually.” You admitted, while your eyes seemed focused on your feet while you walked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” He replied, simply.

“That’s not what I said.” You quickly redeemed yourself, looking at him and stopping the walk. Ghost was looking at you too. “I just meant to say I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

“We’ll hope you never need to see me again, won’t we, miss?” He reasoned, and you raised your eyebrows in agreement.

“Don’t think your company is entertaining?” You gave some other suffered steps through the dirt path between the cemetery’s tombstones, and so did he.

“That’s not what I said.”

You smiled.

“Gotcha. So, should I suppose you have a reason to be here then?” you turned to him once again, holding your hair from flying away with the violent wind that took over the place in a matter of seconds. The clouds were moving - it seemed like it was about to rain.

“I’m here for the same reason as everyone else. The ceremony.” Ghost calmly replied. It seemed weird for you to not be able to read his reactions from the mask, but for some reason, you felt like he was being considerably less stern this particular day.

Maybe he felt bad for you.

“I mean talking to me, Simon. Not here in this place.”

You feared he’d correct you from calling him Simon. He didn’t.

“I know what you meant. Your answer is yes, girl, I have a reason.” He finally said, bluntly, and you kept silent waiting for the next sentences. “Did you receive any visits recently?”

“No one but you a week ago, and the doctors. Why?”

He didn’t answer your question, he simply placed his hands behind his back and straightened his posture. Then, silence.

“Simon?”

“No one. Are you sure?” He insisted.

You frowned your eyebrows slightly and stopped walking once again, putting yourself in front of him this time. You used your healthy leg as a support on the ground to pivot around yourself, and one of the clutches as the other support so you’d stand.

Something in this very calculated and conscient motion failed and you felt your feet step in false; the leg that shouldn’t be carrying weight did, for a second, fast enough for you to feel yourself almost collapse.

Ghost’s hands were quick in grabbing your arms and supporting you against his chest as you almost fell against him, with a small ‘ba-dump’ sound, and your hands now palming the big waistcoat of his tactic gear. You cursed under your breath.

“I’m sorry. And yes, I am sure, why.” You asked a little less patiently this time. His eyes were looking down at you, his hands still swallowing your thin arms like he feared you could fall from the least movement now.

You looked up at him only to meet his dark eyes through the mask and the black eyeshadow that surrounded his face around the eyes and nose, glaring at you.

It occurred to you that if you could possibly live under Ghost’s watch, then you wouldn’t be scared of anything in the world. But it was a quick though that left with the wind that moved your hair and shivered your arms.

“You can let go now.” You murmured, assuring him that you wouldn’t fall now that you had the clutch's support. He did.

“You received suspicious calls, no? Nothing weird that comes to mind?” He kept with his questions that seemed to be turning into a small interrogation.

“Why are you asking me those things?” You finally asked, with a confused shook of your head. “Should I be worried?”

“No. No, you shouldn’t.” He closed his eyes in a sigh, and took your arm around his. Before you could complain, he predicted you. “Don’t complain, I’m doing a courtesy here.”

“I don’t need help, I’m doing well with the-”

“Stubborn girl, aren’t you?” He said, and you could sense a smirk from his voice.

“Well you’re very stubborn yourself, gentleman.” You grumbled, using his help to walk a bit faster now.

You couldn’t see the expression in his face and how amused he seemed to be by watching your movements, and how funny he actually found it that you were slightly mad at him for the time being. You wouldn’t notice the little sign of a laugh on his face, and you’d never suspect there was one - you thought the last thing you’d see him doing in the world was smiling.

After giving you silence as a response, you kept quiet, silently accepting his help through the way. Your eyes scanned the surroundings for a bit like you were looking for a particular tombstone.

“Who do you want to visit?” He risked asking, quietly.

Silence, as you stopped in front of it. There she was. You found it.

The candles were still burning and her face was happily smiling in the picture they chose to put over her gravestone; there were countless flowers, while you held one sole rose in your hand. Doris bought it for you earlier, as you asked.

“My roommate.”

Silence. He was keeping himself a little behind you, his eyes drove from the gravestone to your back. The way the wind started blowing your hair and that white dress fell over your curves perfectly made you look like an angel.

“The one you asked for, what was her name again? Amelie.” He muttered. You gave him a nod.

“Amelie.” You said, as you bend your body as much as you could just so you could reach the top of the beautiful granite that now, layed over her body, and deposit your only flower at the top of all the others already there.

Ghost didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to say anything, but before that could turn into overthinking for him, you spoke.

“She was my only friend in this place. The only true one.” You explained, even if unsolicited. Somehow, you felt like talking to Ghost was therapy to you; he would almost never answer, and hear it - truly hear it. Maybe you were being delusional to think with this level of detail about him, but so far, you haven’t spoken to someone who made you feel heard quite like him, so it was a win. “I only moved here because her family offered to pay for my expenses. She was in med school too, you know?” You glanced at him, as if he was supposed to know that already.

And he did. He knew every detail that was spoken about you on television. He knew you were in med school; he knew you were originally American, from a very poor family that basically got you living by yourself at a tender age and that you were here for a scholarship you achieved with merit, studying to become a doctor. To become a person, one very much better than him.

You were here to save people.

He had been killing people for quite his lifetime now.

How ironic.

“Do you feel guilty?” He asked.

You thought he was some sort of fortune teller. There it was - the fear. The fear of that man, of his gazing eyes, of his capacity of reading through you like a good book; one he had read before, and he did. He did in his tender age, when he’d suffer at the hands of his father; furthermore, when he got into the army; once again, when he was caught…

Can he take more? I’m sure he can.

Ghost knew guilt like his very own hands. At this point he could feel it no more - he only knew he was doing his job as he could, saving the lives he could and taking the others he needed. Choices have consequences.

“Everyday.” Your voice came out as a blow.

He closed his eyes.

“Do you relate? Looks like you do.” You continued, your eyes locked on his now.

“If I were in your place,” he started, walking a bit closer to you. “I’d make the most of it. I won’t bullshit you with the ‘be grateful for being alive’ rubbish. But want it or not, you’re alive, aren’t you?” He looked over at you, and met your gaze once again.

“Simon’s pep talk… Another surprise for today’s day.” You raised an eyebrow jokingly trying to enlighten the mood even the slightest you could.

“All I’m saying is, foolish girl, that you deserve no less than her to be alive. It’s not a matter of deserving. It’s a matter of luck, you were lucky and she was not.” He turned himself to you, and you felt his eyes burning through your side although you weren’t looking back at him. “There’s no such thing as deserving. If anything, I’d deserve to be bombed twice as much as you.”

“Isn’t that such a cruel thing to say?” You asked with a sole, weak smile on your lips, knowing damn well he was right about every word and every positioning right now. Even though it hurts.

“The world is a cruel place, and although many think, God doesn’t have his favorites… You were lucky. Do not feel guilty about something that didn’t depend on you.” He stated, sternly this time like his advice was a life rule to himself.

For the rest of the way back to the car where Doris waited patiently for the two of you, you kept yourself silent. You wanted to ask more about him, about Simon. About that man you saw such a small flash, a little piece, today; unlike Ghost, Simon was an entirely different person and an entirely different idea to you. Somehow, the two of them seemed to be too attached for you to seek precise duality, and it went as far as to your feelings too: curiosity upon the mystery, fear of what you could learn from the unknown.

“Oh, there you are, finally.” Doris celebrated while opening the car door to you, and rushing fast to help you in. Simon kept himself on the back, watching the whole operation to get you inside the car, amused by how annoyed you got to the excessive help being offered to you.

“I can do things on my own.” You said in gritting teeth.

“I know, dear, but why do things on your own when you can have help” She argued, after tucking you in the car, and turning herself to Ghost. “Thank you for the help, sir.”

“It’s no problem.” He said gently, before nodding his head to you and closing the backdoor for both of you as Doris got in. The car started moving, and you started trailing your way back to the hospital.

In a sigh, you closed your eyes and rested a bit.

━ ⟡ ━

He pushed the mask off, threw it aside. The toned muscles of his back were pumped to the extreme, blood flowing through his veins as he stood, shirtless with a towel around his shoulders, hands by the sink sides, curved only enough so he could reach the mirror and stare at his face. One of his fingers ran through a big scar, almost a crack across his own cheek. Many stab scars ripping his back off, his belly, his stomach, his chest. There were scars everywhere.

He pulled the towel off and poorly dried his hay blonde hair, threw the towel aside in the laundry basket, and fixed the one hanging around his waist; a few drops of the hot shower water still glowing through his body.

He sat on his bed, and took a quick look at the notebook screen. The U.K intelligence system was open, of course he had access to it.

A part of himself was cursing under his name for doing this. The other one knew it was for the greater good; somewhat, deep inside, he knew that wasn’t all. There was more to it. Something almost personal, maybe something growing slowly inside of him.

He didn’t get this sense of need from someone. It's been so long, it’s even weird for him now. No, he didn’t want to awake this monster, give it space, feed it, no.

But he needed to. Because if someone was after you, then he’d hunt it, and he’d put it down.

He put on the password and typed; slowly, the screen started showing off your name, your files, your information, pictures. You.

And he started hunting.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod fic

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