#I knew him well by season 2 and he wasn’t even dead or gone and I missed my mother so bad

[allegoryofthebeast]

I know Daniel in s2 remarking that he had to meet Lestat had Armand hemorrhaging because not only has Armand had to hear his husband of 70+ years recall his and Lestat’s entire relationship, reveal he was deeply hallucinating Lestat after the fact, AND now the first person to spark any passion in Louis in years is more interested in MEMORIES of Lestat than 500 year old Vampire Armand who’s been there the whole time

[anyalovesu]

𝓗ome race winner

 Ferrari f1driver!jake x fem!writer!reader

—wherein your f1 driver boyfriend accidentally exposes your private relationship after he wins his first home grand prix. (or… jake is so whipped he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to reveal to everyone and their mom that you were more than friends)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

genre : fluff ( slightly suggestive ending lmao )

pairings : jake x fem!reader

wc : 4.7k+ words

cw :

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ oc is mentioned ( yunhee )

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ non-idol!au ; ferrari f1 driver!jake , writer!reader

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ jake is smitted as fuck and his friends can't say anything about it

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ riki and the reader are siblings!

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ( ft. beomgyu from txt ; keeho from p1h ; heeseung and riki from en- )

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ featured idols are mentioned to have wags who are fem or fem-bodied

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ not proofread ( yet )

song : the alchemy - taylor swift ( the tortured poets department , 2024 )

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You sit quietly in your hotel bed typing away on your laptop, trying to make as much progress in your book as you could before the weekend becomes too hectic for you and Jake as he prepares to drive for his home race. Jake has been constantly getting podium wins, scoring just enough points for him to be a good competitor for the WDC this season. While Jake generally does keep an optimistic aura around him whenever he does or does not win, you knew that not being to bag this race for his team would greatly disappoint him, considering that if does win his home race, he would have enough points to surpass the Choi Beomgyu, who is currently at the top spot of the driver’s championship.

You frequently went to Jake’s races, you usually came with some of your common friends from your highschool, which then successfully hid from the media the fact that you two have been dating for the past 4 years, before he even debuted in Formula 1. It wasn’t like you guys were keeping it a secret, if you weren’t such an introvert with crippling anxiety, you would’ve gone on your own and everyone would’ve figured it out right off the bat that you and Jake were together. However, with the frequent presence of yours and Jake’s best friends, Sunoo and Jay, and sometimes your own brother, Riki, whom Jake has been close with ever since, everyone just assumed you were his best friend as well.

Honestly, some fans have speculated it already that some were just in denial of the fact that Jake was in a relationship that’s why they chose to just assume that you guys were just best friends—after all, despite the popularity that Jake has been gaining since his F1 debut 2 years ago, no one ever confirmed that you were together. Even your friends have done a great job keeping hush about it as for both your and Jake’s request in order to preserve the peace that your relationship had from being away from the media’s knowledge. After all, romance is not dead if you keep it just yours, right?

“Bubs, what time do you think you’ll be done writing?” Jake hums, walking over to you, Layla following him behind, who seemed to be still relentlessly excited since being home the past 2 days. She’s dealt with the jetlag better than you ever will because that woman slept through the entire day and woke up the next morning feeling more energetic than ever after the excruciating 16-hour private flight you had to get into with his teammate, Heeseung, and his partner along with some members of their media team. “The other guys have been wanting to hit the beach before media day tomorrow, do you want to come?”

“Just a few more lines and I’ll be good for the day I think,” you reply to him as he sits on the empty side of the bed next to you and glances at the screen in front of you. “What do you think about it?”

“I think your brain is beautiful and everything it writes is written with pink glitter gel pen,” he chuckles, before turning to give you a kiss. “You have such a beautiful mind, bubba.”

In perspective, no one actually expected that you and Jake would be dating. If it weren’t for that fortunate/unfortunate day that your boarding school’s publication assigned your last project with them to be an interview with Jake just when Jake got promoted to Formula 2, you two wouldn’t have met. You still have very mixed feelings about that day because you have always been shy and messaging a rising Formula 2 star for an interview was definitely beyond your limits of comfort—you can bet your bottom dollar that you had a panic attack before that interview because you’ve always been used to the behind-the-scenes productions of your publications. Let’s just say Jake never left you alone after that. 

He’s always been so enamored by the way you think and how gentle words come out of your mouth whenever you speak. He often wondered how much time it took whoever god out there that made you to delicately craft how your mind worked, how your intentions would come to be and how you would act upon it. Jake couldn’t fathom how beautiful you were on the inside and your pretty face was only the cherry on top of all of it. He was certain that even if he was interviewed with his eyes closed, he still would’ve fallen in love with you.

Smitten idiot, Heeseung would always call him.

“I’ve been stuck on this for days now,” you rolled your eyes at him, playfully pushing his face away before huffing in frustration. Your first book did so well two years ago, it came along the same time Jake was promoted to Formula 1, which then gave you both insurmountable pride and joy that you both were doing so well in your careers. “At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to finish this on my target date.”

“Then aim for the next target date,” he chuckled. “Baby. You always say, if I don’t win WDC this year, maybe it’s still too early or maybe the next one will be it. If you don’t finish this on the deadline, maybe your deadline is too early or maybe the next target date will be your actual deadline.”

“How dare you quote me against myself,” you pouted at him, moving your laptop from your lap to the bedside table before climbing up to his lap to look at him. “I taught you better than that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, grinning so widely as he admired the way your eyes twinkled in the warm Melbourne sun shining through the glass doors of your huge hotel room. “You look so beautiful, bubs.”

“So are you,” you chuckled at him before planting a soft kiss on his lips, to which he gladly returned. You moved away before the kiss got too heated, you were well aware that your little brother, who had only started his Formula 3 journey this season, was staying in the room next door. You would very much like to not traumatize him just before his race as well.

“We should bring Riki along,” you tell him, as you hopped off his lap, moving towards the cabinet where you had already unpacked both of your clothes. “That kid needs to get off Roblox when he’s not training or racing.”

“He’s gonna have to remind you that you’re not your mom when he hears that.” he joked. 

“Yeah, I’m the one feeding and keeping him alive when he’s all over the world driving in funny circles, am I not?” you retort.

“That kid fears you more than his own mother,” Jake shrugged. Riki is driving for the same team that he had driven for during his Formula 2 and 3 days, the fact that he's also driving under the development programme of the current team that he is really did made the two bond like no other. It was a given fact that from the moment you had brought Jake home to meet your family, your little brother had found the older brother that he never had in him. The kid looked up to him since then.

“As he should,” you said as you rummage through the clothes to find a good swimsuit to wear for the beach trip. “Is this good or is it too revealing?”

“If it makes you feel nice, just wear it. Riki and I can fight.” He smiled standing up from the bed and walking over to you to press yet another kiss on your face. Seemed like he really couldn't keep himself away from you for that long.

Frankly, Jake absolutely despised the fact that you were always so anxious of what people thought of you. Were you dressed appropriately? Were you saying the right things? Were you being a good person? You’ve always been the type to do whatever pleases the people around you which led to the decision that it was best to keep your relationship private for the sake of letting you have your peace with the people’s eyes being diverted away from you. Most importantly, just as you try as you might to give him less things to worry about before a race, he tries just as much to give you less things to stress about that might hinder your progress in writing your book.

“I love you, have I told you that already?” you smile at him fondly, taking it to heart the effort he makes to make sure you are comfortable despite your aversion to being in the public eye. 

“Not enough if you have to ask,” he teased. Of course, you’ve already told him that and him the same to you. You’ve always been great with words, Jake figured that while his actions mattered just as much, you dearly appreciate feelings being put into words. So despite not being the very best in words, after being with you for long enough, he made sure that he also knew how to word out his love. It may not have been as good as how you do it, but he tries. 

You chuckle at him, walking over to pepper his face with kisses, mumbling i love you’s over and over after each kiss. 

“Noona! Ikeu! They’re asking if you guys want to come to the beach with us!” Riki blares, while simultaneously banging on the door. “You better not be doing the deed in there because I will vomit and stay inside and play Roblox instead.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of Jake’s way as he walked over to open the door for Riki. 

“Why do you even have that damn iPad, Riki?” You raised a brow at your little brother, hands on your hips as you eye the iPad that he was holding. “You’re literally going to the beach!”

“For pictures!”

“You have a phone, Riki!” you both went back and forth about the iPad while Jake stayed out of the conversation by preparing Layla for the trip, making sure she was leashed and ready to go after you change your clothes. After all, he knows better than to stay out of the sibling argument out of fear of also being on the receiving end of your nagging.

“Okay fine I’ll leave it here!” Riki huffed, placing the iPad on the coffee table in your hotel room before moving over to lie down on the sofa with Layla.

The yacht was most definitely fancy. Most of the people in there were just the same people in the grid and their partners, some of Riki’s friends from Formula 2, that you were acquainted with over the few times that you went to Jake’s races. It was usually their partners that you spoke with but every now and then you were on the receiving end of the teases that were only supposed to be directed to Jake. It’s only shits and giggles, you’ve grown comfortable over that since most of them were actually fun people to be with when they’re not driving and trying to push the other driver off the track.

You were helping the other wags take their sunset pictures when Jake approached you, offering your usual pink gin.

“Need something, bubba?” You asked as you felt him clinging on to you, arms snaking around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder as he tried to seem interested in how you took the other driver’s partner’s pictures. 

“Nothing, just missed you a bit. You’ve been with the girls for too long.”

“Jesus Christ, Jaeyun, no one is going to steal Y/N away from you!” Heeseung’s partner rolled their eyes at him, trying to push him away.

“No actually, I will steal Y/N out of spite if you don’t leave us alone,” Beomgyu’s partner jokes before pulling you away from him. “We haven’t seen her in a while, I think you should leave the wags alone here.”

“I will push your boyfriend off the track if you do that,” Jake playfully argues with her before moving over to kiss the side of your head and going back to the other drivers and leaving you to do your own thing.

“Your partners have successfully stolen my girlfriend,” Jake shrugged as he sat next to Heeseung who seemed to be having a great time playing hands with Layla.

“Because you were hogging her the entire time, Jaeyun,” he laughed at him. “The girls have been dying to get her to join them since she had to stay back for uni and you’re hogging their friend all to yourself.”

“Yeah, man. I haven’t congratulated Y/N on graduating recently!” Beomgyu cheered from the bar where he stood waiting for his drink to be made. “Y/N is cool for doing that with a book in-progress.”

“She is,” he hums softly. Watching you interact with the other wags really makes his heart swell in joy. 

You've always had a small social circle. For someone who worked with a publication before and just recently graduated from your film program, you sure did hate being around unfamiliar people. It always took you longer than the other to warm up to new people and consider them your friends. You just never were type for small talk. Whenever you spoke, you always said words that were meaningful and left a lasting memory on everyone who heard it. He remembers you telling him one time that you wished you had more friends because the only friends you ever considered were him, Sunoo and Jake's best friend Jay. Now, seeing you be so close with the entire grid’s wags really makes him proud of how far you’ve come from being too afraid to speak to them to her being immensely missed for not being present after she had to stay back for school.

“You are so whipped, it’s disgustingly cute, man,” Beomgyu shrugged at him, playfully hitting the back of his head. Jake doesn’t mind being teased for being whipped. He is. There’s nothing to deny about that—besides, it’s you. What’s to not be smitten about you? Even the guys’ partners agree with his sentiments.

“I won’t be surprised you become so whipped you accidentally tell everyone and their mom that you two are dating,” Keeho laughed at him. 

“It’s not like we’re keeping it a secret though. We just let everyone assume what they want. We never exclusively said we were just friends though?” Jake explained to him. “Plus the media is harsh as fuck. I really don’t want her going through whatever bullshit they told your partners when they were introduced.”

“Yunhee had to turn off her comments once because of how bad the hate got,” Heeseung sighed, recalling the faint memory of his partner getting blasted with hate comments when they started going out. Looking back at it, he really wished he approached the unavoidable media portion of their relationship the same way as Jake did.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Anyone in the paddock was shocked to see you with just Yunhee when the weekend came along. Which then resulted in social media having  literal outbreak with the rising suspicions that the Ferrari superstar was in fact out of the market and very much taken by you. There were mixed reactions, as Yunhee told you. You had your social media, but you rarely opened them to check. It didn't help that your work accounts were held by your manager and your socials were private. So Yunhee's input were the only words you could rely on in terms of what the people thought of you.

It made you anxious, to be honest, but after Jake finished a P3, a P2 and a P4 in three free practices, you couldn’t help but divert your attention to that, out of worry that your boyfriend might beat himself for not getting P1 just yet.  It was his home race, you knew getting those finishes might set him back a little so you preferred to just shake it off you instead of giving Jake another thing to think about than winning.

P2. He's starting from P2. Oh God. You were more nervous than ever for both Ferrari drivers as they sat one in front of the other, cars revving as they waited for the lights to go off

“He can do this,” Yunhee assured you, which to be honest was a little bit weird because her boyfriend was still technically competing with yours. Nonetheless, you appreciate her attempts to help you calm down. Only a fool would deny that you were more nervous than the driver with the way you refused to take your usual morning coffee or any heavy food in general—Yunhee would normally tease you if she didn't have a clear understanding how important this is to you as much as it is to Jake.

Your eyes never left the screen as you both sat in the garage, hands clasped tightly together, barely noticing how clammy each other's hands were. 

The last few laps were rolling more and more intensely as it passed by. Both Ferrari drivers were leading the race with Heeseung holding pole position is a millisecond of a gap from your boyfriend. I hated that you were going to beat yourself up for hoping Heeseung falters ever for a split second during one of the turns just so Jake could pass, especially when his girlfriend, whom you are very close with is rooting for him as well.

“And there goes Jake Sim finally overtaking his teammate Heeseung Lee, taking pole position in this home grand prix! Will he hold this position in the last 4 laps? Will Jake Sim win his home grand prix and take the lead in the driver's championships?”

“Keep your pace, Jake,” his engineer reminds him on his radio. “Heeseung is right behind you blocking Beomgyu.”

“I'm giving him a tow next race, please tell him that,” he happily chuckles as his grip on his steering wheel tightens, locking up as he and his teammate trails the last lap.

“Holy shit! Y/N? Is Y/N watching? I'm winning my home race!” He yells over his radio happily, euphoria consuming his body as he laughs freely. “Is my bubba watching?”

“Yes, Jake. Y/N is watching,” his engineer chuckles to him.

You could not believe it. Jake is finally winning his home race. After three years of finishing 2nd in Australia, he’s finally surpassed Heeseung and Beomgyu in his home race. Your Jake won.

Your face was wet with tears, thank the gods up above for waterproof makeup because she’d be doomed if not for it. Yunhee was dragging her down to the pitlane, just in front of the parc ferme to wait for Jake to cross the checkered flag. 

“Lee successfully blocks off Choi from overtaking, defending his and his teammates' position! Jake Sim! Jake Sim pushes for the very last time towards the end of the Australian Grand Prix and there he goes with one of the most brilliant drives of the 2024 Formula 1 season! 6th grand prix win of his career since he started racing for Ferrari when he was only 20 years old! At 22, Sim finally takes his first home race!”

 “Mon bebe, Jake won!” Yunhee happily claps hugging you tight as you bawl your eyes out once you see Jake cross the line and approach parc ferme. You were speechless to say the least. For the first time in your life, you were rendered unable to describe how you were feeling. Jake’s human dictionary—finally out of words to describe things out of pure happiness that was overflowing from her body. 

Jake wasn’t any better than you were. He just won his home race, right before his family and most especially the love of his life—and all he can think of is how he’s going to get out of his car and helmet as soon as he can so he can finally hold you and celebrate his most important win yet. 

He pulled himself up the car and stood on it, basking in the glory of his win as the crowd cheered for him. He was over the moon as he stepped down, scanning the crowd properly to see a glimpse of where you might be as soon as his helmet and gloves were off.

And there you were, with tears in your eyes as Yunhee and his mom tried their best to comfort your crying figure. And before he could rethink his impending decision, his eyes tunnel vision to you among the sea of men clad in red as he runs up to you, pouncing as he holds your face and pressing the most passion-filled kiss he’s ever given you. And you kiss back, drawing in all the excitement, pride and love that were shared from the very beginning as he holds every single dream he’s ever had since he was a kid, driving in go karts in Brisbane. He’s finally here, a thousand miles from where he used to be 8 years old driving in his first karting competition, now holding the love of his life, in his first home race win, in front of all of his family and the people who supported him from the moment he flew to the UK to race for F4. 

“Oh bubba,” you cried, kissing his forehead over and over. “You did so well. You are so loved. I am so proud of you.”

On the side, Yunhee did not know whether she was to be scared of the media now that you’re doing this in front of everyone and their mom after you’ve sworn you would keep your relationship private—but she chooses to bask in happiness as well as Heeseung approaches her to give her a soft kiss as well. 

The team celebrates just as well as soon as he moves over to the side. They all pat his back, chanting as he jumps over them to hug them all at the same time. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You could not help but feel the tears running down once again as you watched him take his trophy up on the podium. Yunhee still held you very tightly as his mom tried to videotape the entire program on her phone. While it still hasn’t sunk in to you that Jake had just exposed your relationship to the media proudly, and you are completely doing nothing about it, you couldn’t help but not care at the moment. You were sure your PR Manager was going to blast you as soon as you get back in your hotel but fuck it, it couldn’t be more important than Jake getting sprayed with champagne and him getting his revenge on Beomgyu for spraying the champagne right into his eyes. It was appalling at best and disgusting at worst that they’re wasting expensive champagne making them all sticky and gross, but you did not have it in you to show your dislike for the decades old way of celebration. 

Jake’s eyes scan the crowd once again after he gulped down some of the champagne, looking for a glimpse of you. And there you were, in all of your glory, smiling at him, tears staining your eyes once again. He couldn’t help but give you a little wave, which you returned, even blowing him a kiss as you looked up to where he stood from the podium.

His mom managed to give you a hug after the awarding ceremony, returning to the hospitality to wait and watch for the post-race press conference. Sure enough, as soon as Jake sat on the couch, still buzzing from excitement from what just happened, it was the first thing that was asked, making Heeseung and Beomgyu cackle on both his sides.

“Have you guys been aware of this all along?” the interviewer asked, curiously.

Heeseung nodded. “Since F2. It’s unbelievable.”

“Since F2?!” Everyone in the press room seemed to have turned their heads to Jake in shock after finding out how long he had been hiding it from the media.

“She’s very shy and introverted. We also enjoy our privacy very much, so that’s been under wraps for four years already. I sort of blacked out earlier and just forgot that I wasn’t supposed to expose it like that, but yeah. I owe that win to her as much as I owe it to Ferrari. She’s always been supportive. I know you’ve seen her in the past races before and it’s the first time that she didn’t go with a friend from home, so this was an experience for her as much as it is for me.” Everyone could not help but stare in awe with how gentle and fond Jake spoke about you. And it wasn’t like it was something that you’ve never witnessed before, his language could be crude whenever he was around his mates and other friends—but rarely with you. He once said, it made him feel like he was staining your good integrity as a writer for him to speak so crudely whenever you are around.

“You are also now in the lead for the Driver’s Championship. What does that feel like, Mr. Jake Sim?”

“Great, actually. I’ve been a menace to both my family and Y/N about how important this race is to me because it is both my home race and the race that will push me closer to my goal. So I’m glad Y/N has been able to endure my yapping while she’s writing her book because my family called me out about it.” He chuckled. “I am actually still buzzing. I can’t believe that just happened. Very big thanks to Heeseung for helping me get there and to my engineers whom I had to argue with let me finish the race without boxing for the second time. That’s some big trust in me and I’m glad I was able to see it through?”

“Do you think you still would’ve won that without Heeseung defending your win?”

“Hey man,” Heeseung leered from Jake’s side. “I defended that win because I also did not want to be behind Beomgyu. Jake still would’ve won with that quarter of a second gap.”

“My tires are dead at that point,” Beomgyu snorted. “I was going to crash if I pushed harder to surpass Jake.”

You can’t help but smile at both drivers, proudly defending their friend’s win despite being questioned of its integrity. You take a mental note to send them gifts before you leave to go home in a few days. 

“I drove pretty well. The commentators agree that it is one of the most brilliant drives I’ve ever done in my career. So, yeah. The team has done great with that 1-2 for Ferrari.” Jake smiles at the reporter politely. 

Soon enough every media duty was over and he was finally back in the arms of the love of his life. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” you hum against his neck, as you squeezed hs tighter. “You did so fucking well, bubba.”

“I’m sorry I got too happy on the radio, bubs. And for kissing you in front of everyone,” he pouted, pulling you away to see the expression on your face but it did not change. Your face was just as happy as it had been before you went up to hug him.

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “At least they know now who’s the one to beat next to get to you.”

“You know my heart is always reserved for you, Y/N. There’s no chance of beating you in something only you know how to do.”

“You cheesy motherfucker.” You laughed at him, trying to hide the blush on your face before Yunhee notices it and teases you about it. “But I’m letting that slide. You won today after all.”

“Care to celebrate with me then? Before the party?” The smug look on his face says it all and he already knows that you could never say no to that. After all, he did look absolutely hot winning his home race with a decent gap from his opponents. 

“I thought you’d never ask, Mr. Sim.”

—end.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

masterlist

a/n : hi hello i've been listening to the alchemy for more than i should and it's race week again ! it took me a good while to write this bc i personally feel like i don't write fluff well as i haven't been with anyone for years now ( lol ) and i'm not sure if that's how in love people do it sooooo there's that . your notes and feedback are so appreciatedddd !

tnx for making it this far <33

xo, anya ୨୧

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

It felt so real.

What - Yearning. Daryl misses you and your family so badly that it seems his imagination is dreaming you up to keep him from going crazy

When - big time jump to when Daryl finds himself in France (spinoff season 1, episode 2)

Where - the school in France

Pronouns - she/her (howdy, wife reader!)

TWs - language, reference to child loss, self-loathing, sappiness (it's fanfiction, y'all XD ) and Daryl gets a little...'excited' (mild instance of sexual arousal between a married couple)

Perspective - Daryl 3rd person POV

References - some are yet unpublished because this is a significant time skip, which means a few little surprises. Others can be found throughout the series!

Series? - the Slowpoke Series! It's a fun, slow time that sticks to canon to help maintain immersion (as much as you can with adding an oc lol) ;)

Can I read this chapter if I haven't started any part of the Slowpoke Series yet? - definitely

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“It's so good to hold you again, sugar.”

Those words, that voice, made him relax into the bed. She was there again! He’d last imagined her when he was being tended to by those nuns, so it was only, what, a handful of days ago?

Wasn’t enough for him, he missed her so much.

“Dare, I want them all. Full stop, every last one.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I knew you’d say that.”

“As if you aren’t wantin’ to take at least a handful. All those kids with just an old woman to care for them…well, now she’s dead, but…” She sighed and held him tighter. “Lou reminds me of Enid. Don’t you think they look similar? M’sorry her name had to be Lou. A lot of things over here are making you homesick, ain’t they? And that poor boy in Maine, named TJ, too.”

He pulled her closer, doing his best to not wake himself up so Y/N would stay with him. He wished that kid, with same name as his oldest, has just gone back to his girlfriend like he'd told him to.

“Our own Louise lights a candle with me for you every day. Those nuns would be proud.”

He swore to himself that whenever these dreams happen, there’s got to be some way it isn’t just all in his head. It was way too real.

It felt so, so real.

But that Louise was lighting candles for him, he knew because Carol told him when she spoke to him briefly over the radio in Maine...

“Did Carol also mention that Lydia’s been drawing you? Or did I write part that in the letter?”

“The letter. Carol and I didn't have much time to say anything.” Y/N wrote him a long, long letter. One part mentioned how both Lydia and Glenn took to getting nightmares again after he left. At Maggie’s suggestion, Lydia had been drawing his picture. Apparently it helps her feel safer.

RJ had been 'retreating more than usual,' also. Adam was acting out, too, so she wrote. If Daryl was figuring it right, the boys losing another father figure probably hadn’t helped.

“Dare, he’s three. Three-year-olds don’t only act out with foster parents, Adam would be doin’ the same with Alden. And RJ is without Michonne right now. That's the greater culprit.”

His wife also wrote how Coco just started calling her ‘mama,’ and correcting her to say ‘auntie’ wasn’t working yet. She chalked it up to her being a motherly figure and the baby assuming all caring ladies were ‘mama.’ He wondered if Gabe knew yet. Ain’t like Y/N hasn’t been a mama to that little girl since Rosita died. Actually, nah, Gabe obviously knew; Y/N would’ve (legit) run to him immediately and told him what was up.

The faces of all their kids ran through his mind over and over, Lydia and Judith and RJ included. Then his wife’s face. Carl. Adam. Hershel. Gracie. Coco. Carol. Ezekiel. Maggie. Rosita. Aaron. Jesus. Jerry. Rick. Merle. T-Dog.

“Oo, I want to be here when T-Dog visits. Has he ever visited?” Y/N chirped.

He wished. “Once. I just think about him a lot.”

“Bummer. He must have been so thrilled when we actually did name our first after him, without you even tellin’ me nothing about how he’d teased you on it! Say, what about Uncle Jesse? Does he visit? He must’ve been happy TJ’s middle name is for him!”

He shook his head. You even visited me before I was smart enough to fall for you. When I fell down the ridge. It was you and Merle.

A sneezing from one of the kids in another part of the building resounded four times. It woke him briefly.

He closed his eyes, focused…

It was okay, Y/N was there. Daryl breathed a sigh of relief.

“I am a mite surprised you didn’t take the floor anyway,” Y/N admitted, peeking over his side to look at where the nun Isabelle was laying down next to him. “Or share with Laurent so the two sisters could share.”

“Neither of them trust me enough for me to share a room with the boy. And she sounded like she didn’t want me on the floor. Must be that I’m gettin’ too old." All I feel these days is tired and sore. "Hell, I don’t think I could get up if I slept on the floor.”

Angel, I ain’t the same without you, I’m a fucking mess. Look at the shit show that I’ve made of things.

His wife whispered, “Hey. You know I can hear that, I’m from your imagination.”

“Y/N, I miss you so fucking much.” Baby, I’m so goddamned far from you all and I don’t know how I’m gonna get out this time.

“No cusses in front of the kids, Daryl,” She cupped her belly, the one he was imagining she might have again. Carol, when she spoke to him, used what little time there was to mention how Y/N was avoiding taking a test because she missed him too much. Y/N didn’t say nothing about it in her letter she'd packed in there during one of his home visits.

How’s that for a reason to hate yourself?

“You should,” shot back another familiar voice. “Leaving your own kin, leaving your woman. Ain’t you learned nothing, boy? Didn’t think you was that much of a deadbeat but here’s proof the apple didn’t fall far from the tree."

Merle.

Damn, it’d been ages!

"Yup. Nanu nanu," his brother mocked, waving his metal stump and glaring. "Here you are, in the white flag capital of the world, surrounded by Euro kooks instead of your own blood.”

“Oh, Daryl, don’t imagine him as cruel again!" Y/N cooed. "Let us both love you if you’re gonna go about having us here.”

Daryl breathed slowly so he wouldn’t wake up. When he felt level enough, he answered, “I don’t have much control over what y’all say.”

“I thought you had some control over it.” Y/N gently pushed his hair off his face. He loved it when she did that. Delicately, she examined the new scar gracing his forehead.

“I blame that old coot what you let whup you on the head as to why you’re seeing things,” his brother crooned.

His wife nodded. “Another concussion, you poor man. But this isn’t a hallucination, it’s just a dream. It’s that good kind of dream where you’re not fully awake but not fully asleep.” She trailed her hand along his forearm.

“Y/N, you’re too good for this sad sack.”

She fired back faster than Daryl knew his imagination could go. “Merle. You love your brother to death and you’re happy he got hisself a wife and family.” Y/N had pushed herself up to sitting in order to scold him. “Tell me you don’t swell with pride seein’ him be a good father and good husband. The cycle stopped with him, and you’re proud of it.”

Daryl, a hand protectively around his wife’s side, was busy trying to figure out what Merle was even doing, whittling?

Ah, he was eating an peach with the knife attached to his metal stump.

Weird, he thought ghosts didn’t eat.

“Maybe I ain’t a real ghost, retard,” was a blunt comeback. “Maybe I’m just a poor copy you conjured up in that concussed little head of yours.” Merle then turned to Y/N. “As for you, kitten, he left you and your brats! Left you when you was up the duff, left you when you don’t even got all your legs no more! How’s he supposed to protect you when he’s out here?”

“Merle William Dixon! I ain’t ‘kitten’ and those ‘brats’ are your nieces and nephews, dick. Noah’s middle name is even for you, so you best watch your mouth, hear?”

Merle smirked and sliced off another wedge from the peach. “There’s my sister-in-law. I had to make sure your square self at least still had that fire in ya.” He offered her a slice, but she crossed her arms.

The expression on her face was so disappointed it made Daryl’s chest tug.

His brother duly inclined his head in apology and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, ma’am. Y’all are doing a good job on them brats. And this sumbitch ain’t nothing like our old man, so there’s something.” Merle chopped another piece of fruit. “And it’s always a pleasure to roll with a fellow amputee, Y/N. Not many can relate to how trippy the phantom limb bullshit can get.”

She tilted her head in agreement, rubbed the spot above her prosthetic calf, and settled back down next to her husband with a big sigh. “I do wish Daryl imagined you in a kinder light, Merle, but, either way, I’m happy he watched Mork & Mindy because it got him thinkin’ about you — and now you’re here for him!” Her hand grazed along her bump. “And, you meant to say to him that I was possibly pregnant.”

“Dunno about that, sister, you’ve always seem to know when you been knocked up.”

“That ain’t incorrect,” she confessed, curling in on herself. “Even if I was, it’s possible we had a loss again, Merle. Whether early or late this time.”

“Another reason he shouldn’t be screwin’ around out here.” Merle next words sliced him as if his heart were the peach in his hands. “I'm angry for your own good, lady. What if you had to handle another kid's death, this time on your own?”

The bad memories crashed down like waves threatening to drown him in grief and guilt. He wanted to pummel his brother in the hopes Merle would best him and make him pay for leaving her.

But Merle wasn't actually there. Neither was Y/N. It was pretend. Daryl was just beating himself up in his head, and failing even at that.

Y/N said the words as Daryl thought them: “Why are you twisting the knife?” She swallowed and covered her face with her hands. “Maybe, this mission is w-worth the sacrifice of, of us not havin’ him here right now.”

No. It’s not.

I know you said that before I left to make it hurt less, but it’s not. Listen to your stutter, you know it ain’t.

I should be back there with you, not constantly leaving for weeks at a time. I'm supposed to be home now. I'd told Carol when I reached her on the radio back in Maine that I'd be there in a about a week, which is what she would've told you. This whole thing is horseshit!

“Darlin’, think on happier things or you’ll upset yourself awake or into another nightmare,” Y/N soothed. "You almost woke from anger at Merle just there, which is really just anger at yourself." Her fingers laced into his where his hand rested on her belly. His wish was that his dream would include feeling the baby move. He loved that feeling. Except, he must’ve been waking up because his dream wasn’t letting him feel her hand or her belly very much when he tried. Still, it felt real enough. He’d take what he could get.

“Might could be fun to think back on how beautiful it was making them, if indeed we made another one.” She walked two fingers along his bicep. “Would’ve happened on or around the last night before you left. Or,” she mused, then started to giggle. At that moment, he could even imagine the vibrations of her laughter as if she were really, actually laying beside him. It felt so real! “I wouldn’t be surprised if made them on the day itself, that was soo — oh man, hold up!” She pulled away from him and eyed his crotch in suspicion. “No sex dreams allowed, there’s a bride of Christ in the room! Keep that thing down, deal?”

He almost laughed out loud, and possibly in real life. So long as he didn’t wake up, he didn’t care if he laughed in his sleep. The reactions, the tone, it was all just like his Y/N. And he could hope they had another kid. He’d take as many as came along.

Aw, shit, how far would she even be along, if this one made it? How long had he been away?

“Goddamn, y’all, is this some kinda kink you got?” Merle cut in. “Me and the penguin are still here, you perverts.”

“Oh hush, neither of us are actually here. Him and me aren’t doing nothin’, he just got a little aroused,” Y/N countered. “And to answer your question about another baby, Daryl, I reckon you’ll find out when you come back.” She shrugged. “Unless you reach us on a radio? Eugene is diligent about it, especially now.”

That was another thing she wrote in her letter. Eugene and his radio.

The helplessness crashed back down on him. “I’m tryin’ babe.” He didn’t want to start crying. The nun was next to him and he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop crying once he started.

Merle jeered, “Try harder, Darylina.”

He was right, Daryl needed to. He needed to try harder! What kind of washed out fuck-up was he?

“Sweetheart,” his wife called softly. Her hand caressed his cheek. It felt so, so real. “Margaret — a woman who knows the pain of losing a husband — trusted this to you because you survive. And I trusted you to go, because you’ve got the brains, the balls, and the grit. You don’t die or get bit, Daryl, no. You always come home.”

Bullshit. Not this time.

“Not bullshit. Yes, this time.” She looked to the window. “Merle, back me up.”

“Based on your track record, she’s right, little brother.”

“You may not believe you can or will,” she lifted herself up on her hands and leaned forward to kiss him. It had to have been real. It felt so, so real. But he was not about to open his eyes to see if by some miracle it was. “Despite how you feel right now, my bet is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

Shit, he was about to break down. “Y/N, maybe I don’t deserve that. You saw the shit-show what got me here.” And there came the tears. “I left you, that’s all there is to this. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh, that word.” Y/N wasn’t a fan of the word ‘deserve.’ “On that topic, what an honest prayer you said to bless the food! So many times you used ‘deserve,’ ugh, but,” she paused, “God loves honesty like that. Very, very much.”

She kissed his eyelids where the tears were starting to slip out, kissed the scar that never seemed to fade, then settled back against the side of his chest and curled one leg around him. With her hand, she rubbed comforting circles along his torso. “And He don’t punish or withhold, that’s just our fallen world. His hand is always out for you,” she murmured. “Say, how long do you think you can keep up with imaginin’ my theology?”

“Angel, I’m already at my limit. That’s why part of me thinks you’ve gotta be here somehow, some parts of this feel so real. Smart stuff like this ain’t in my head.”

“TJ and Georgia would call out your self-hate if they could hear you. You’d owe them a lot of quarters. Hm, and euros, seeing as you're here.”

His chest tugged at their names. “How are they?”

TJ, their oldest besides Lydia, had long hair like the little French kid here. Just one other thing that ripped at Daryl’s heartstrings to make him ache so bad for home it shocked him that he wasn’t bleeding out.

“They’re as good as gold and better. Just like their father.” That phrase he knew was from his memory because she’d said it before. “All of us miss you like crazy. Postal level.”

You shouldn’t.

“Daryl.” Her hand gripped his. There’s no way it wasn’t real. It felt so real. “When I was broken after Carl's death, and I claimed the same stuff — that you should leave me and TJ, that you needed someone better, that your life would be better if we weren’t a part of it — how much did it rip you up? ’Cause even if I hadn’t told you this before, you would have to understand how it’s tearing my insides to shreds hearin’ you think the same.”

Calm. He had to stay calm or he’d be alone again.

“I’m right,” he whispered.

“I have to disagree.”

“I —” his voice went up. He switched tactics and spoke to his brother. “Merle, talk some sense into her. I failed. This is it, this is—”

“—You did screw shit up like a royal turd, but your lady would rip my danglers off if I went along with your pretty little pity party.”

Believe it or not, the tough love helped. Felt genuine, as if Merle really was shouting some sense into him. It felt so real.

He caught his wife giving Merle an air high-five. “Thank you, Merle.”

In hindsight, Daryl figured it must’ve be because Merle, in Daryl’s imagination, had to raise his metal arm to return the five. He taunted Y/N, “You’re welcome, peg-leg.”

Dream or not, Daryl was fixing to bark, but his wife playfully kicked her own prosthetic and taunted back, “Love you, gimpy.”

His brother was smug. “Square.”

As if Y/N hadn’t heard that before.“Trailer trash.”

As if Merle hadn’t heard that before. “Goody-two shoes.”

“Two shoes? Ahem,” Y/N drawled as prim and proper as a southern belle. “Did we not just establish how I only require but one shoe these days?”

Merle slapped his thigh and cackled like a hyena and Daryl couldn’t help but do the same. Y/N joked about her missing calf like she got paid for it, pirate jokes to no end.

Daryl hadn’t felt this light in months, not even close to it since leaving home.

…And to think, it was all a lie.

All fake.

They weren’t really there. Not his wife, not his dead brother. It was all in his head.

“Oh, my sweet mangy hick. Enough moping and angst, enjoy the moment! Merle and I really did a fair job on our banter just there. And you never know, Merle could really be here, seein’ as he’s dead.”

“Y/N, I even miss bickering with ya, goddamn,” he breathed.

“It is one of our love languages. That reminds me — you’re doing great with the French, Dare!”

She can’t be serious. Or, rather, he himself can’t be serious. “Babe, I ain’t spoken a word of it. The letters don’t matter half the time. I swear, these people sound drunk.”

Merle snickered, “Hell, even I speak better French than him. Voulez vous coucher av—”

“—Well, I meant like when you used the dictionary to translate that conjugated verb.” Her voice had gone down when she said this and it sounded, well…how it usually sounded when she was turned on. “If I were there, the part where I’d push your suspenders off your shoulders would drive me wild…”

Stay calm or you’ll wake up, Daryl.

And you realllly don’t want to start a sex dream with some other chick in the room. A nun!

“Get a room, horndogs. The word was ‘conjugated,’ not ‘conjugal,’” Merle spat. “This is why you got all them kids.”

His wife made one of her signature huffs, but didn’t say nothing back to Merle. Into Daryl’s ear, she sympathized, “Being horny is so annoyin’.”

Ha. Blushing even in his dreams. Part of him wondered if he was cracking up in his sleep, too, but either way, it felt good. Felt real. It felt so, so real. “I don’t even know what ‘conjugated’ means, Y/N.”

“Yes you do, otherwise I wouldn’t say it. I’m a figment of your imagination, remember?” Aw man, why’d she have to nuzzle him in the crook of his neck? He loved it when she did that. Mmm, hot damn it felt so real… “And you know that you doin’ something like conjugating a verb in another language would be sexy to me.”

“I told y’all jackrabbits to keep your britches on. Now, Daryl: ‘conjugate’ is when you make the verb agree grammatically with the subject. You’ve heard that word before,” Merle explained. Seemed out of character. And the room looked strange, there was—it was another room now?

Daryl’s thoughts turned to when Y/N and Rosita would speak Spanish. Listening as Judith helped TJ and RJ with phonics. Watching Georgia sing to baby Louise that song Siddiq had taught her in, what language was it?

“Hey. Dummy,” Merle scoffed. “You’re driftin’ off, sweet boy. Gotta stay a teensy bit lucid if you want us here.”

So that’s why the room had just looked different. He’d been slipping.

“I still don’t get how this happens, which is why I think you’re actually here,” Daryl said to both of them. “Merle, you’re probably in…somewhere in-between.”

“What, I don’t get to be in heaven yet? Y/N, you hearin’ this uppity sumbitch?”

“He still has trouble believing in such things, Merle, especially lately. I prayed for your soul, so I got hope.”

“Thank you, sister.”

“Anytime.” Y/N looked up at Daryl and smiled. “Then what about me, dude? I ain’t dead, pinky promise. So, how is it that I come to be here?”

Yeah, he’ll be as sappy as he wants with his wife of ten years. “Maybe you’re dreamin’ about me, too.”

Merle’s kissy noises were interrupted by Daryl firmly telling him to get out after which Y/N smooched him harder than she’d had in his imagination since he’d left America. The smell of her, the sounds she made, the way she would lift her head so he could bury his face in her neck, it all felt so real.

It was when she ran her hand lower down his abdomen and almost reached his you-know-what that it all stopped cold. “Sorry! Aw, shoot — Merle! Get back in here, quick, we got carried away! Well, t-technically it was all you, Dare, but — just, please don’t get a stiffy with a nun in the room!”

“Someone should put that on a shirt,” his brother called.

“Ew, no, Merle! Good Moses, maybe I really should ought to be there if you’re startin’ to imagine messed up t-shirt slogans.” She was only teasing. “Ooh, but if I were really there I could meet little Sister Sylvie! So far, I like her.”

“I knew you would.” Daryl grinned. “The way she is with the boy, she reminds me of you.”

If only you were really here, angel.

Wait, no, I don’t want you here because you wouldn’t be safe. I need you safe.

She brought his hand to her lips. “I know what you meant, sugar.”

Unexpectedly, the nun shifted on the bed, nearly jolting him fully awake.

Slow breaths. Keep your eyes shut, do not open them!

He kept them shut tight and pictured where Y/N had been to try and keep her there.

“What am I, chopped pig’s feet?” Merle grunted.

Daryl relaxed. Merle was still there, and he got back the feeling of Y/N beside him.

“You know,” his wife considered. While she was still there, he was having trouble visualizing her. Was he still close to waking up? “That Sister Isabelle is willin’ to risk sharing a room with a strange American says a lot about how much she’ll give to protect the boy and the others here.”

“Still damn weird she didn’t just share a room, the three of ’em.”

“It is. It’s really weird.” Y/N rested her forehead on his chest. He felt the warmth of her breathing against him. If he focused really hard, he could just about imagine the feel her heartbeat, too. “Maybe she’s fixing to be the first line of defense, with all them other kids livin’ here.”

“Still weird,” he grunted. “Hey, where’d my—” He looked around in his imagination at the room. “Where’d my brother go?”

“Maybe he wanted another peach. Or, maybe you're too close to wakin’ up. Be careful, darling.”

He breathed slowly and kept his eyes locked shut. His frustration was growing. It had felt so real, why was it going away?

Calm. Stay calm so she’ll stay.

“It was also unusual,” Y/N thought, “how Sister Izzy—”

“—Sister Izzy?”

He imagined that her mouth would have twisted in embarrassment. “Yes, I’d probably definitely give her that nickname. You sure know how to portray me realistically.” She started again, “It’s unusual how she didn’t accommodate for your maybe-not-wantin’-to-be-seen-in-the-tub-by-a-nun. By anyone, for that matter. Although,” she reconsidered, “they were nurses who had to change your undies and cauterize your wound, weren’t they?” When he pictured her bottom lip beginning to tremble, he held her closer. “Oh, I hate that they all died but for two! What has this world come to? Why would those men kill them?”

That was something.

The dream got easier to maintain. He felt the curve of her waist. The rise and fall of her chest. It felt real again. It felt so, so real.

Relieved, he didn’t know what to say at first other than, “The water was cloudy enough.” When he was getting treated, bathed, doctored, how hard he wished it was Y/N doing it. Another thing that made him ache, watching them nuns give him medical attention when for the past 12 years it’d almost always been his wife.

He breathed out heavily. “Dunno, when she was in there, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

“The habit can have that effect on some. The crucifixes and religious artworks hopefully brought some peace, too.”

“Habit?”

“Nun outfit.”

He tried to hold her even tighter. The way it felt more real than before encouraged him, got him nearly falling off his seat with excitement that he got her back!

Except, the excitement turned into panic that he might lose this moment because he was so happy, as fake as it was.

And it sent him over the edge. Just like that, he was awake. Very awake. And alone. No Y/N, no Merle.

He blinked as the room came into focus.

None of it was real. He’d, he'd known that.

And now he was awake. Lying on some flat, shitty, tiny bed, an ocean away, in a country full of people he didn’t understand, that had walkers who burned you when they touched you, and soldiers who shot up a convent full of nuns who patched up strangers and were only trying to keep a little boy safe.

He didn’t even have his ring anymore. All he had was a snippet on a voice recorder that told the world his name and how badly he'd fucked up.

Daryl turned onto his side, the pain from his burned arm screaming at him, but he didn’t give one flying fuck. Y/N wasn’t there anymore because his stupid ass had woken up! He’d earned the pain, he needed it, he deserved it.

Quietly, he thought to hell with it and let himself weep. He was so fucking done with all this bullshit.

He wanted Y/N back. He wanted his kids back. The fuck kind of brainless jackass was he, leaving them for so long, so much? And for what?

To "see what's out there?"

As if he'd find people who had a cure?

To bring Rick and Mich home? If Rick is even alive, if Michonne is alive.

To transport some creepy French boy to a group of weirdos grasping at the hope of some imaginary friend in the sky who damns them if they don’t do all the rules in the world that He’d let go to shit as a punishment or test?

Really, was Daryl that much of a guilt-ridden jerk-off to still say yes to whatever Maggie asks him to do? It’s a hopeless fu—

“Daryl, I love you so much. Please don’t blaspheme.”

“Y/N?” I thought you was gone. No, you were gone, I woke up! “You’re back?” Holy shit, thank you. Thank you! Thank you, Whoever's up there.

That small, shy smile melted all the ice he’d just had in his heart. “Try not to wake all the way again?”

He didn’t waste any more time blubbering like an idiot, he reached for her and held on. It was still a dream, so he had to be careful to not get too excited or do anything too stimulating. And, don’t worry, he wasn’t about to willingly get a hard-on when there was a nun next to him.

He just needed to have Y/N in his arms again so he could make it through the next 5 minutes without going insane!

For 12 years, she’d been there, loving him in one way or another. For 10 years they’d been husband and wife. Without her, without their kids there, in that strange, foreign place, he was losing himself so quick it brought him to his knees with shame.

Her lips pulled away for a moment. “I wouldn’t agree that you’re losing yourself. I watched Shaney lose himself, it looked different. Daryl, I’m serious,” she insisted. “Listen: did you not save that dad and daughter even after they robbed you?”

Big whoop. “You know what those guerrilla shits would’ve done to her." The same thing that got done to you. "And those assholes would prolly have made the old man watch and killed me regardless.”

“Yeah, but you also went back to try and save that gaggle of nuns from those jar-head pieces of shit, that’s got to count for somethin’.” Wait, that was Merle’s voice. He was back, too?

Daryl looked over at the window to see his brother there once more. Merle winked. “My baby brother, the hero. Stay zen if you’re fixing to keep us here, now. Keep hittin’ that sweet spot between dreamland and the real world.”

Y/N beamed at Merle before turning back to Daryl. “And did you not help those children get the medicine, Dare? Heck, now they got access to that whole castle full of supplies and it’s so much more secure. Um, m-minus the moat full of dead ones.”

“I lied to those kids out my ass, Y/N. Lied and didn’t give a damn.”

“And you ensured none of them got hurt, then promptly admitted the lie with what I’d call purity of heart.”

“I cut that boy’s mule loose without a second thought. You see that? He loved that thing.”

“Better than to have failed to back up the cart in time, which would have happened and would have gotten all five of y’all eaten. And it was almost fast enough to escape by the looks of it. One dead mule to the benefit of four living souls is a good outcome.”

“What’d my sister-in-law say earlier?” Merle asked. “Brains, balls, and grit? Not to sound all mushy gushy, but she’s right.”

The memories of falling into that moat of walkers seized him, made him start to panic again. No brains, no balls, he almost died right in there—

“—Baby, shh,” Y/N hushed. Her arms tightly wrapped around him the way she would when his nightmares hit bad. “You survived. No bites. No burns. Not even a broken bone, I don’t know how you managed it again.” Her lips, her chest, her hands pressed against him. It felt so, so real. “But you always seem to.” She kissed him. “You’ve got brains.” Another kiss. “Balls.” A deeper kiss. “And grit. And you’re alive, sweetheart. There’s always hope as long as your heart is still beating.”

“How will I get out of this?”

“You’ll find a way,” she said with confidence. “You simply don’t know what the way is yet.”

“What do I do about the nuns?”

“Help them keep Laurent safe, of course — if you choose to do so.”

I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to,” she assured him.

I want to go home.

“And you will,” she assured him once again.

I don’t want to help them. I don’t want to. I don’t fucking want to!

…God damn it. “But I should.”

“You ain’t obligated,” Y/N responded, but with hesitation that time. “It is up to you.”

Merle was the one to point out, “It’s that conscience of yours, kid. Sometimes you just can’t help but help. I’ve been watchin’ you these past, what is it, 11 years since I got my crusty white ass killed?” He chuckled to himself as he shaved off the final bit of peach before flicking the pit away. “Can’t be too mad at it when it roped you a fine piece of ass to squeeze at night and how many kids because of it?”

“Merle,” Y/N warned.

Daryl could feel his anger rising.

“What, ain’t you relieved I can’t call you ��sweet little virgin’ no more, son?” Merle kept egging on.

“Daryl, this isn’t really him. Don’t get angry or we’ll both disapp—”

“—So, my thinking is, Daryl, that you just won’t be able to help yourself from bringing that little sissy boy to them nutjobs —”

“Shut up!” Daryl burst out — and opened his eyes in real time. Again? Is he that much of an idiot?

His pulse was pounding. Dread and self-loathing flooded his mind, how stupid could he be?

Immediately, he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate hope to get his wife and brother back. He focused, focused, focused, prayed, pretended, focused…

“Daryl,” came her voice.

He could hear Y/N, but not see her. It was clear that it was all him forcing the memory of her voice back. It was all in his head.

“Why bother caring that it’s in your head, sugar? Breathe slowly and focus on the feel of my body against yours. I don’t wanna leave you."

“Y/N, I need to get back,” he panted. “I can use their help to do that. Those religious people, the Union of Hope or whoever, Isabelle says they got a good radio. I need that to get back home.”

“Well, there you go! I trust you.”

He reached up to tangle his fingers where her hair would be. His imagination wasn’t letting it happen, so he focused with gratefulness that at least he could still hear her.

“Just don’t abuse their trust, and you’ll be alright,” she softly pleaded.

Don’t break their trust? “Angel, you don’t know what I did to end up in this mess.”

Of all the ways he could have daydreamed her reacting, it was that her laughter filled the room. “For the last time, my mangy hick, I am a figment of your imagination and quite literally know everythin’ inside that brain of yours. And I still love you despite that ‘shit-show’ what landed you here.”

He brought to mind the color of her eyes, wanting, wanting, begging for a miracle that would make her truly there with him so he could stare into them all night. “What would you say if I asked ‘that if I don’t find nothing, what good am I?’”

“Y/N, you can blame our raising for that shit right there,” his brother commented.

“You poor boys. Broken people sometimes make for broken kids.”

Gently, he started to perceive the way she would rub her cheek against his chest when she’d lay down with him. “Daryl? If I were here, I’d say things to try and make it stick in your head that your worth ain’t dependent on what you can offer.”

“What does it depend on, then?”

“Careful, you’re treading into religious waters now, and I ain’t sure you’ve got the bandwidth tonight. But God is involved,” she hinted.

This mess was hopeless, wasn’t it? No winning, no out, no happy ending.

“Angel, I can’t come home empty-handed.” He squeezed his eyes tighter and willed himself to not lose his cool yet again. “I can’t come home with no Rick or Michonne, no cure, no nothin’ but a burn, more nightmares, and more lives on my conscience.”

“You can,” she answered simply. “It ain’t all on you. No — please, don’t get any more upset or you’ll wake up again! Daryl, I’ve already slipped so far away!” He heard his wife begin to cry, but the sound went further and further from him. All he could see were the backs of his eyelids.

Still, he held on as best he could. “Please stay here, angel.”

“I-I would, sweetheart.”

“When I’m back, I won’t even want to leave the walls to hunt if it would mean not being next to you, d’you know that?”

“Let someone else hunt. You’ve done enough to last a lifetime.” Her voice was hoarse the way it had been when she’d said those same words to him about a year and a half ago. “More than enough. Oh Daryl, I’m so sorry we’re going.”

“Not yet, angel, please don’t!”

“Use all those things makin’ you homesick as reasons to hope. Do it for me, sugar. Get yourself home again. Don’t die, don’t get bit.”

“I won’t. I’ll get back to you. Tell the kids I love ’em?”

There was silence.

Stillness.

Daryl lay there, accepting that he couldn’t feel Y/N next to him anymore.

His throat tightened. “Angel?”

He doesn’t know why he bothered. She was gone, he knew it. He ran his finger where his ring should’ve been, if he hadn’t lost it.

“Angel,” he tried again.

Silence.

“Babe, please. Please.”

Silence.

“Y/N, please, one more time, angel.”

Silence.

The pain in him was hollow and cold.

Feeling small and helpless, he lifted his arms above his head and held back a wail of despair. He closed his eyes again and, in his head, he cried out in desperation, “Merle?”

At first, there was no answer. He hadn't expected one. Why should he?

But then he heard a quiet, low, “I’m still here.”

Merle spoke slowly and heavily, almost as if it hurt him to admit it. “I don’t think she’s gonna come back tonight, Daryl. You’ve already fallen out a few times. I ain’t gonna be here much longer, neither. You know that.”

Any strength he had left seeped out like a stab wound, leaving him crying like a child. “I can’t see you anymore.”

“I know, little brother.”

“It felt so real.”

“It sure as hell did. I think you needed it, even if it hurts like a bitch now.”

It had felt so, so real!

But it wasn’t. “I’m alone,” he choked out.

“Nothin’ you can’t handle.” For a moment Daryl could make out his brother’s face again. “You’re a tough sumbitch, so I’d advise you act like it. Quit blubberin’ like a baby and wipe the snot out your nose.”

Daryl sniffed and tried to get a grip.

“Good.” Merle’s voice began to echo. He was almost gone, too. “Now listen here: don’t die, don’t get bit. Get your ass back where you belong.”

The room came into view.

The echoing stopped.

The hollow, cold pain he’d felt at knowing they were gone there turned sharp and hot. Turns out, it was actually the throbbing in his arm. Daryl really had turned onto his side, which positioned his burned arm underneath him. He strained to get off it and flip onto his back.

You know what? The pain from his burned arm didn’t hold a candle to the ache in his chest.

Were those tears on his face, too? Guess he must’ve started crying for real in his sleep. Made sense considering how real it all felt. It all felt so real.

If only his pulse would stop racing, he felt sick.

He was getting damned old.

Instinctively, he tried to fiddle with his wedding band, which is when he recalled yet again how he’d lost it. Only a faint tan line remained.

He closed his eyes, exhausted, and chewed at his lip. Another tear or two escaped and ran hot down his cheek.

A strange part of him wished he hadn’t lied to Laurent about having a wife and family back home. At the time he said it so it wouldn't hurt as much, but…

“You deserve a happy ending, too,” the kid had told him. Just like his Judith had, when she saw how low and unworthy he begun to feel. She told her auntie Y/N, too, of course, not that his wife wasn’t unaware of how twisted his head had gotten into thinking he was no good. It didn’t feel twisted to him, it felt honest. He didn’t deserve them. They were too good.

His wife’s words to him played again in his mind. He may have just been making all that shit up in his brain, but he was only remembering a mix of real things that she’d told him before, over and over in the hopes his stupid ass would accept it one day.

“Despite how you feel right now, my vote is you will get that happy ending. It ain’t coincidence that Laurent said so just like our Judith did! How’s that for a reason to hope?”

He did need a reason. It was getting harder and harder to hold onto hope. Any hope.

So, maybe, a weird kid with long hair like TJ’s who drew a picture of some washed-up bum on a beach three weeks before Daryl showed up was reason enough to hope. He could grasp onto that.

If it would get him home, hell yeah, he could do that.

How the same weird kid told him what his niece had and what his wife had could be reason enough, too. He could grasp onto that as well, if it would get him home. He could do that for them.

Daryl ran his hand in slow, gentle circles along his stomach like Y/N would. Maybe he’d been doing this in his dream, which is why it felt so real.

It had all felt so, so real.

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

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[badkitty3000]

You Can't Go Home Again

Chapters 1 and 2

Link to Chapters 3 and Four

All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

An alternate season three rewrite for a request I received.

Warnings: None

More chapters will be posted as I continue writing this multi-chapter fic. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Other You

So much for being their ringer, Five thought bitterly as he stewed about the day’s earlier events. Lying there in his shitty bottom bunk bed like he was actually 13 years old, and waiting for Klaus to get back with his scotch, he tried to think of what to do next. Everyone was waiting on him, like he knew the answer to everything. It was damned if you do, damned if you don’t with this family, because no matter what Five said someone wasn’t happy with him. He sighed and flopped a pillow over his face, trying to drown out Diego and Luther’s arguing. At this point, he wished that Cobra Girl, or whatever the fuck her name was, would make him hallucinate he was on a tropical island with a fruity drink in one hand and Dolores in his other.

God damn it, he was tired.

Maybe this was for the best, though. Maybe they could just live here and be normal for once. After all, it didn’t seem all that bad. They just needed to avoid Dad’s merry band of Mega Assholes, but that should be easy enough. They could even keep the briefcase. He didn’t really need the reminder of that part of his life, anyway. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. This was just what they all needed to start over.

Wait, where are all the lobsters? Fuck.

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

“I swear there was a great vintage clothing store around here somewhere,” Klaus muttered to himself as he walked down the busy street, a few blocks from the hotel. He stopped and looked around, shading his eyes from the sun. He let out a frustrated groan. “The one time I could actually benefit from Ben being up my ass all the time. That jerk was like freaking Magellan.” He chuckled. “No wonder I’ve always been bad at directions. I usually just followed him.” Klaus caught the side-eye of a woman hurrying past him. “Aaaaand…now I’m talking to myself. Wonderful.”

As he stepped off the curb to try the other side of the street, he stopped dead in his tracks. Coming out of the café across the road, was an absolute dead ringer for Five. Well, an older version of him. But not like his real, 60 year-old version. More like the correct version, if the correct version had been allowed to age normally with the rest of his siblings.

It had to be him. Same dark hair swept to the side. Same lean build and sharp facial features. Same aggravated look on his face.

The one thing that was clearly wrong, besides the fact that he was roughly 30, was that he had two small children in tow, with one of them holding his hand. Then Klaus almost passed out when he saw a very pretty woman follow him out, putting her arm around his waist and kissing his cheek.

And Five just… smiled at her. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“What the…” Klaus started to wonder, before almost being run over by a delivery truck that came zooming down the street. “Shit!”

He stepped back onto the curb just in time, as the driver honked his horn and yelled obscenities at him as he drove past. But Klaus barely registered all of that. He couldn’t stop staring at his brother’s doppelganger, trying to figure out what to do about it. Would he even know Klaus? This was probably a completely different version that grew up here, in the Sparrow’s timeline and would have no idea that the Umbrella Academy even existed.

“Five!” Klaus yelled out, not even thinking.

The older version of his brother stopped and turned, looking for who might have called him.

“Fuck, it really is him,” Klaus muttered. “Five! Over here!” He waved his arms in the air, catching Five’s attention.

He watched as Five squinted across the street, then looked at the woman next to him, shrugging. The small girl holding his hand gave a sharp tug to get his attention, and Five let her pull him along down the sidewalk, taking one last confused look at Klaus over his shoulder.

“Fuck…now what?” Klaus said, one hand on his hip. “What would Ben say? He’d tell me I should not follow him and just go back to the hotel and tell Five. So…yeah, I’m going to follow him.”

Klaus stayed on the opposite side of the street, and hung back a little, but he followed Five and his family for a few blocks. As he paused behind a telephone pole, trying to hide for a few seconds to widen the gap between them, he was engulfed in a flash of blue light before being thrown against the side of a building, the front of his shirt clutched in someone’s hands, and a snarling voice speaking to him.

“Who are you and why are you following me?”

Klaus looked into the familiar green eyes of his brother, whose other version he had just recently been reunited with. There was no doubt it was Five now. Even without the spatial jump and the physical assault. When Klaus’s eyes dropped down to the fist that was clenching his shirt, he saw the tattoo that matched his own.

“Holy shit! Five, it’s really you!”

“How the fuck do you know my name? Who are you?” Five demanded again, pushing Klaus further into the brick wall.

“It’s me…Klaus! You know, your brother?”

Five paused, but didn’t loosen his grip at all. “What are you talking about?”

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, while also showing Five the inside of his left wrist. “See? It’s me! Numero Quatro. Remember?”

Five took a small step back, his eyes wide, but he still held tight. “Klaus?”

Klaus laughed. “Yeah! Hey buddy, how the hell are you?”

After a few more seconds of staring blankly at his brother, Five let him go and Klaus smoothed his shirt down. “I don’t understand. How are you here? This isn’t your timeline.”

“I know!” Klaus giggled. “It’s a LONG fucking story, one which my brother…well, you, actually, can explain much better than I can. But after a couple failed time travel attempts, here we are! And Dad was NOT thrilled to see us, let me tell you. Do you know he has a whole ass other family now? And Ben! He’s alive…or a version of him is alive. He seems like a real dick. But then there’s you, and look at you! All grown up and with a family? That’s so great! But how did you get here? How are you not a Sparrow?”

Five pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighed before smiling at his long-lost brother. “Klaus, it is really good to see you, but please, give me a minute here. I need to think.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“So, how did you time travel here? With what resource?”

“To this particular timeline? A magical briefcase. Before that, it was just you.”

“Ignoring whatever the hell a magical briefcase is, do you mean you used my powers to time travel?”

“Yes, but with varying success.”

“Ok. So, there’s a version of me with you now?”

Klaus nodded. “Yes. And you are ADORABLE.” He saw Five’s frown of confusion. “You’re thirteen. Well, not really. You’re actually 58, since you got stuck in an apocalypse for 45 years and then messed up your own time math on your return to 2019. So, yeah, you’re super cute but, wow, are you ornery.”

Five thought for a moment before quietly mumbling, “So you must be from an alternate Umbrella Academy timeline where I still time traveled at thirteen, but with a different outcome.”

Klaus nodded. “Sure, that sounds about right.” Then he tilted his head in confusion. “Hang on, if you’re here and the same age as me, and you still have the Umbrella tattoo, then how did you get here and how are there two of you?”

Five frowned. “Again, I’m going to speculate, because I can’t be entirely sure. But from what you’re saying, it sounds like there were at least two original timelines where the Umbrella Academy and us and the rest of our siblings existed. I decided to defy Reggie and jump to the future in both of those timelines, except that’s where things went differently. It sounds like in your timeline, that version of me got stuck in the future with no way back. In my particular case, I jumped and instead of going forward in time, I went sideways and got stuck.”

“Sideways?”

“Meaning, I jumped to a different, alternate universe with the Sparrows, but the time remained the same. So, I grew up here, in this timeline but without good old Dad to raise me.”

“Oh right…” Klaus said, nodding as if he completely understood. “So, you’re not the same Five that rubbed hot chili oil in my underwear in retaliation for stealing your sandwich when we were twelve?”

Five looked taken aback, but then he gave a short laugh. “No, but I did dare MY Klaus to touch his junk after cutting up a habanero pepper, then proceeded to take his picture when he started screaming and pouring milk down his underpants.”

“Man, you really are an asshole in every timeline!” Klaus laughed. “Poor me.”

With a grin, Five shook his head. “It really is good to see you, Klaus. The last time I saw any of my siblings I was thirteen. I’m glad to see you made it out and are doing well.”

“Well…I wouldn’t go that far, but I made it out anyway. And what about you? So, you landed here and then what? I didn’t see you with the other assholes who were beating the shit out of us in our own home.”

“Oh, the Sparrows? Yeah, they are a special brand of dickheads, that’s for sure. Even as teenagers, they sucked. Which is why—”

Just then, a pulsing wave of…something…washed over them and the entire city block, only for it to reverse itself and disappear the way it came. As Klaus and Five stood there in shock, a lady that had been walking on the other side of the street screamed loudly. When they looked over, they saw her holding up a dog leash attached to an empty collar. She pivoted in place, scanning all around her while she called out “Winston!” in a panic.

“Well, that’s probably not good,” Klaus observed; head tilted to the side.

���Yeah, no shit,” Five snapped. He glanced down the street, where his family was waiting for him on a bench. They appeared to be intact and he let out a sigh of relief. “Listen, I have to get back to my family. I don’t know what the hell that was, but if I had to bet, I’d say it had something to do with Reginald. So, as much as I’d love to sit here and catch up, I have to go.”

“Oh,” Klaus said sadly. “Yeah, ok. But don’t you want to come meet the rest of the gang? We’re all staying over the Hotel Obsidian, if you know where that is –”

“You’re staying there?” Five asked incredulously.

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s Dad’s place. He owns it. Didn’t you know that?”

Klaus shook his head. “No, I had no idea. Are you sure?”

Five rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been tracking Reggie since I was a kid. That place is basically his evil lair, and even if I haven’t been able to figure out what is going on in there, it’s a safe bet it’s in nobody’s best interest except his own.”

“Sounds about right, actually,” Klaus mused. “But, hey! He’s not there now, and our siblings would love to meet you, I’m sure. And OUR Five…he’s such a little shit gremlin, you should see him…you…well, you know what I mean. Don’t you want to meet your other self?”

“I’m sure there are terrible consequences to that, actually.”

“Oh, come on…just for a minute…”

“Klaus! A mysterious, dog-eating, energy wave from hell just passed over the city and you want to start planning a family reunion? They aren’t even my real family, anyway! So…while this has been fun, I have to go. Good luck with everything.”

In another flash of blue, Five was gone; reappearing at the other end of the street where his wife and kids were still waiting. Klaus watched in fascination as Five hugged them, and then continued down the street in a hurry, keeping them close to him for protection.

“Well, this is some weird-ass shit, even for us, right Benerino?” Klaus closed his eyes and sighed when he realized he was alone again. “Damn it. I keep forgetting.”

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

Five was helping himself to the large selection of booze the hotel bar had to offer, trying to find just the right single malt to drown his sorrows and help him forget the happenings of the day. He decided that things couldn’t really get worse, so he might as well get plastered. He rattled off the earlier events in his head as he tipped back a bottle of Japanese whiskey and swallowed down a large gulp.

Lila tried to kill me. BOTH fucking briefcases won’t work. Lila tried to kill me AGAIN. The Commission is dead and the world is soon to follow. My old, one-armed ass died in front of me without giving me one single piece of useful information except “don’t save the world.” Jesus, what an asshole. And now this kugelblitz shit. He took another swig, grimacing as it slipped down his throat and burned his stomach. Oh yeah, let’s not forget that I’m still stuck in this prepubescent body, which is all sorts of fun. Although I think I spied one single hair on my nuts this morning, so things are really starting to look up.

“Fuck,” he muttered before laughing sardonically at himself and taking another pull at the bottle. “I should have listened to you, Dolores. I should have waited until I was one-hundred-percent sure of the math, just like you said. But you know me, always impulsive. I’m glad you’re not here to witness this, my dear, because I really stepped in it this time.”

“Five! Holy shit, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!

Klaus came running up to the bar, out of breath and smiling. Five frowned before taking another sip of whiskey. “Well, I’m not sure where you’ve been looking because I’ve been right here for the last hour.”

“Well, yeah…I mean I just got here. But, still, I have big news!”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Five said dryly.

“I met you!”

“Excuse me?”

“You! Well, another you, but it was still you! But like, older, you know? But with the same Umbrella Academy tattoo and surly attitude. And let me tell you…I was right because you did grow up to be hot. So, never fear little bro, you are one smoking piece of ass once you get past this awkward phase.”

“Klaus,” Five said, running a tired hand down his face. “What in the fuck are you talking about?”

Klaus took a deep breath. “I was walking around, trying to find this store I used to like, when I saw you. Another version of you.”

Five set the whiskey bottle down with a hard “thunk.” He crossed his arms on the bar top and leaned in toward Klaus, his eyebrows drawing together. “Come again?”

“You, Fivey!” Klaus repeated, gesturing wildly to his confused, smaller brother. “And get this…you have a family! An adorable wife and two precious little children. You should have seen yourself in absolute domestic bliss.” Klaus put a hand to his chest. “Oh, it was precious.”

Five slow blinked a few times, trying to understand what his moronic brother was babbling about. The whiskey was slowing his processing speed and he needed to catch up. “Hang on,” he squinted, trying to keep things in focus. “You saw another version of me? And you talked to him?”

Klaus nodded. “Yes!”

“This is…” Five muttered, picking up the bottle, but then setting it back down again with a frown. “This is not good.”

“That’s what he said! Well, not those exact words, but pretty close. I tried to get him to come here and meet everyone but—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Five barked.

“What? I thought he’d like to see the other versions of us, since he comes from a different timeline, apparently. This you didn’t get stuck in an apocalypse, he just landed here instead. I don’t really understand everything and we didn’t have time to get into specifics before the scary energy tsunami killed the vibe.”

“Energy…what? Damn it, Klaus, I’m too drunk for this.” Five sighed heavily, dropping his head onto his arms before raising it again. He passed a hand through his hair, sweeping it out of his eyes. “Ok, listen carefully. Do NOT, under any circumstances, interact with my other self again. Understand?”

Klaus pouted. “Why? Aren’t you curious about this you?”

With a sorrowful look in his eyes, he shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not. What matters is keeping us safe. You and our siblings. We can’t worry about anyone else right now, and that includes any other versions of ourselves that may be walking around. We just don’t have that luxury.”

“But…your kids…”

“They are not MY kids, Klaus! They’re HIS!” Five snapped, much more harshly than he had intended. He backed down a little. “I’m sorry. There’s too much at stake. Not to mention I can’t be trusted if I’m around another version of myself.”

“Oh, right…the psychosis thing. Yeah, Luther mentioned you went a little..” Klaus made a cuckoo bird noise and circled a finger next to his head. “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t. It’s not exactly a great feeling to want to scratch your ball sack off while your doppelganger tries to murder you. You tend not to forget those things.”

“Point taken, mon frere.” Klaus grabbed a shot glass from behind the bar and poured himself some of Five’s whiskey. After throwing it back in one go, he looked around. “Alright, I have to go find everyone else and tell them the news. They aren’t going to believe this.”

As Klaus walked away, Five knew he should stop him. He needed to tell him about the kugelblitz, especially since it sounded like maybe he had already experienced a wave of it. But he had just been thrown some very heavy news and he needed time to think. It didn’t help that his brain was foggy with booze and he had already been in a maudlin mood even before Klaus had dumped this on him.

There was another version of himself walking around that city right now, not that far away. Another version that grew up in a normal world. That didn’t spend decades in a lifeless hellscape, scrounging to stay alive and slowly going insane. One that hadn’t fucked up his life, not once, but twice, with shaky math and a too-cocky attitude. And one that had a real family.

That was what Five kept circling back to. Klaus had seen him with a wife and two kids. Just the thought that there was an alternative life for him out there that included a real family nearly sucked the air right out of his lungs. A wife. A real wife that he presumably loved and that loved him in return. Children of his own.

It was too much. He couldn’t breathe and he furiously pulled at his necktie as if it were a noose tightening around his thin neck. Five pulled in loud gasps of air, but it still wasn’t enough. Grabbing the half-empty bottle of whiskey off the bar, he staggered towards the first bathroom he saw off the main floor. Panting with eyes wide, Five trudged to the old, grimy sink and stared into the mirror.

“Fuck you,” Five hissed to the skinny little shithead that was staring back at him. “You’re useless.”

He took a long swig from the bottle, his hand shaking on the way. As two small rivers of brown liquid seeped out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin, he lowered the bottle clumsily, hitting the side of the sink and smashing it into pieces. As shards of glass rained down onto the tiled floor, the pleasant tinkling sound echoing around him, Five laughed. It was a dangerous, demonic laugh that frightened even himself. He stopped abruptly, his hands clutching the sides of the sink, palms digging into the slivers of glass that had fallen there.

“You stupid asshole,” he snarled at the kid-version of himself. “You absolute piece of shit. Look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined everything.” He looked down sadly, then back up again. This time, instead of hate in his eyes there was only bottomless sorrow. “You don’t deserve that life. That’s why you ended up here, looking like this. Because you are the version that shouldn’t exist. You are the version that does not get happiness.”

Five’s cold eyes flitted down to the ground. There, lying next to his polished dress shoes that he had been so excited to complement his tailored suit, was a large piece of the broken bottle. The shard was long and tapered at the end to form a jagged dagger shape. Perfect for stabbing. Or slicing into a main artery so that someone, or yourself, would bleed out in a matter of seconds. Five stared at that piece of glass for far too long before slowly lifting his head again, facing himself in the mirror.

“I know. Don’t worry, Dolores…it was just a thought. Besides, that would be like drinking bleach while your car is flying off a cliff into a ravine. Why bother? Either way it ends the same.”

A few hours later, after cleaning the bathroom of any evidence, and composing himself back into a man in full control, Five found his siblings. It was clear that Klaus had filled them in on his discovery, and they all hushed as Five neared the group, although he noticed Klaus himself was missing. Pausing to grab himself a tumbler of scotch on the way, Five joined them. After stopping to take a casual drink, one hand in the pocket of his suit pants, Five gestured with his glass in hand.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I know Klaus told you, so let’s get this over with.”

“Five, you have a family! That’s wonderful!” Luther gushed.

“I guess I was wrong, maybe you do have a bit of domesticity in you,” Lila snorted.

Viktor shrugged with a smile and Allison rolled her eyes, neither of them saying a word.

Diego nonchalantly flipped a knife in his hand while eyeing Five up. “So now what? We have to deal with two of you? Because I can barely stand one of you.”

Five smiled his usual, acerbic smile. “Well, Diego, the feeling is mutual. But fear not; neither you nor I will be coming anywhere near my other self.”

“Why not? Klaus said the other you seemed perfectly nice after you stopped slamming him against a wall,” Luther said innocently.

Five sighed heavily, wishing for the umpteenth time that he didn’t have the sole responsibility of critical thinking skills in this family. “Because…” he began slowly, to make sure they were understanding, “Not only does it have the possibility of creating even more havoc to this timeline, there’s also the little matter of –”

“Oh!” Luther interrupted animatedly. “I remember! The paradox psychosis!” He turned to the rest of the family. “You guys missed it, but he kind of went a little…” He lowered his voice to a whisper even though Five could hear everything. “…psycho, if you know what I mean.”

“Jesus, Luther, I’m right here!” Five closed his eyes to try and regroup. “But, yes, paradox psychosis is the real deal. And there’s no way around that. So, let’s just focus on the task at hand, which is trying to get out of here before the world implodes with us in it.”

Five’s gaze landed on Lila, and he immediately knew she was up to something. “What the hell are you smirking at?”

She shrugged while sticking her hand up her short skirt and pulling out a small item. Five made a disgusted groaning noise. “God, please, whatever that is, I do not want it.”

“Oh, shut up, you little perv. Here,” she said with an eye roll, shoving the item into Five’s hand and forcing him to take it. “While you were having your little heart to heart with your freshly deceased corpse back at the Commission, I found this.”

Five peered down at his open hand. It was a syringe filled with a yellowish substance. On closer inspection, he could make out two words scrawled along the side, in what looked like his own handwriting. Paradox Juice.

“Paradox Juice?” he questioned out loud. He looked back up at Lila. “Is this what I think it is?”

She shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine. I assumed it was some sort of concoction to ward off psychosis should you ever have to meet with your doppelganger. The old, decrepit you probably made it during his time at the Commission.”

Five held the syringe up to the light and peered intently at the golden liquid inside. “Where did you find this?”

“On one of the tables in the bunker. When you so rudely had me leave during your existential crisis, I swiped them on the way out.”

“Them?”

“Oh yeah…” she reached up into her skirt again, revealing an identical syringe. “There were two.”

“How did you…where did you have those, because we just…I mean I’m pretty sure I would have found those when we were upstairs doing…what the hell?” Diego stammered; his dark eyes clouded with confusion.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Lila answered with a smile and a quick pat on his cheek. “Every girl has her secrets.”

“Well, regardless of this finding, there is no reason for me to make contact with my other self. I don’t see the benefit, and it could possibly do more harm, like speed the kugelblitz along,” Five explained while shoving both syringes into his inside suit coat pocket. He took another drink from his glass. “Let’s just forget it, ok?”

“Guys!” Klaus yelled as he rushed up to the group. “I have some bad news.”

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

Chapter Two: Homicidal Rage

As the seven of them trudged along the city streets, taking up the width of the sidewalk, and bumping into one another while grumbling and shoving each other in return, the sky began to darken. Another pulsing kugel wave washed over them and the surrounding buildings. They all watched in horror as every other living creature evaporated into ashes and blew away with the wind. In a matter of seconds, they were the only ones around.

“Fuck, this is not good,” Five groaned. “I really don’t see how finding my other self is going to help anything. Besides, for all we know, that wave right there just destroyed me.”

“We don’t know, but we have to try,” Viktor said. “Between the two of you, maybe you can figure out how to get the briefcase working again.”

Five looked dubiously down at the mangled black case in his hand. “I just don’t think my other self is going to welcome us into his home with open arms. I know I wouldn’t.”

“I’m telling you, Fivey, this you seemed much less ragey,” Klaus said. Five glared up at him. “See? That look right there, the one that means you want to rip my throat out? I didn’t get that from this other you.”

“Probably because that version is getting laid on a regular basis,” Diego murmured to Lila.

Ignoring his brothers, Five went back to his own thoughts as they continued down the street. When Klaus had told them Chet was kicking them out of the hotel due to “insufficient funds”, there was a moment of panic. They had no money and their only home was currently occupied by the world’s biggest assholes. Five glanced up at a giant billboard looming overhead featuring those same assholes, before looking back down at the ground. Fucking fuckers.

After a family meeting that involved more bickering and finger pointing, they had concluded that the only possibility, no matter how slim, of stopping the kugelblitz by returning to their correct timeline, was to track down the other Five and ask him for help.  Five had been the last hold-out in agreeing to the plan. He had no desire to find out what this other version was like. The one with the home and a wife and kids. Because he already knew the answer. He had everything and Five had nothing.

Allison, who had been leading the group, suddenly stopped, causing everyone behind her to cartoonishly crash into one another. She shoved Diego away from her with an irritated scowl, while continuing to look down at the piece of paper in her hand. She lifted her eyes to the building in front of them. It was a beautiful brownstone with magazine-worthy flowers and plants covering the front stoop; the gorgeous geraniums and petunias overflowing from their tasteful terracotta pots.

“I think this is it,” she noted.

“Damn, Five…nice digs. You must be doing well for yourself,” Diego commented after giving Allison a shove in return.

“Why do you assume Five is the breadwinner here? Maybe it’s his wife,” Viktor argued.

“I don’t. But Five is all smart and shit, I assume he’s probably some hot shot scientist or something.”

“Maybe his wife is a hot shot scientist,” Viktor shot back.

As the conversation quickly devolved into an argument among the entire group, Five remained silent. He peered up at the house in question. The one where the supposedly more successful version of himself resided. He stared at the flowers and the set of brick stairs that led to the front door with the cheerful looking wreath. He thought back on a time during the apocalypse when he and Dolores were scavenging for supplies. They had come across a destroyed row of brownstones just like this one, and he remembered finding broken shards of terracotta intermixed with the crumbling bricks. The odds that it had been this exact same house were pretty slim, but not impossible. Talk about fucking irony.

Five wiped the sweat from his brow and absent-mindedly scratched at his shoulder. Luther noticed and pointed his big meaty finger at Five.

“Dude! I saw that. You just scratched yourself.”

“Yeah, and you’re starting to sweat again,” Lila added, wrinkling her nose.

“I just walked several miles in a three-piece suit, of course I’m sweating. And people itch, Luther. Stop being dumb.”

“Denial,” Luther said, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding wisely. “Stage one.”

“God damn it! I am not…” Five started before scratching at his ass cheek, “…In denial, ok?”

“You do look a little weird,” Diego said, leaning in closer to Five in curiosity.

Five stuck his hand out, pushing his brother away with a palm to his face. “I do not look weird. Fuck, I need to take a piss.”

There were multiple grumblings around him, and Five was starting to suspect that maybe they had a point. He didn’t feel great. But…

“Hang on,” he said, glancing around and above him, looking crazier by the second. “This could be a trap.”

“How could it be a trap? He doesn’t even know we’re coming,” Allison reasoned.

Five whipped his head in her direction, eyes wide and manic. She took a small step backwards. “Because, dear sister…I am a fucking genius, remember?” He tapped his temple with his finger. “And I would anticipate our arrival. Probably set up some trip wires or something,” he mumbled, looking frantically around him.

“Ok, this is not going to get any better,” Luther told everyone.

Klaus nodded. “Yeah, Five, I think you need to take that shot of paradox juice.”

Remembering he had the two syringes in his jacket, Five took them out and held them up for everyone to see. “I’m not taking this, are you crazy? HE probably made these and poisoned them just to try and get rid of me,” he raged, pointing up at the house. “Paradox juice? You expect me to believe that I would come up with that lame ass name?” He turned to yell up at the windows facing the street. “I’m on to you, asshole!”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Lila groaned. Mimicking Five’s powers, she blinked over to him, catching him off guard as she grabbed the syringes out of his hands. As Five began to protest, she looked over at Luther. “Hold him still, big guy.”

No stranger to taking orders, Luther immediately complied. Holding Five in place by pinning his arms to his side, he tried to reason with his struggling, smaller brother that it was for his own good. But that was like trying to reason with a cocaine-fueled raccoon, and Five snarled and hissed while trying to get away.

“Get your giant ape hands off of me! You tried to kill me before, I know you’ll do it again! LET ME G—OW! SON OF A BITCH!”

Lila sunk the needle of the syringe directly into the side of Five’s neck, pushing the plunger down and smiling gleefully while he writhed in pain.

“FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK…” Five screamed as Luther continued to keep him trapped.

“How long do you think it takes to work?” Viktor asked worriedly.

Lila shook her head. “No idea. Might not even work at all. Or I just killed him. But, you win some, you lose some, am I right?”

Everyone watched in fascination as Five slowly started to relax in Luther’s grip. His jaw unclenched and he stopped swearing. After about two minutes, the crazed look in his eyes left and he gazed at the concerned faces around him like a man waking from a dream.

“I think…I think I’m ok now,” he said weakly.

Luther leaned down, studying his face up close. “Are you sure? Because if I let you go and you kick me in the balls again, I am not going to be happy.”

Five shook his head. “No, really. I think that shit actually worked.”

Luther looked around for confirmation, and receiving nods of approval from everyone else, he let go of Five’s arms. Stepping back, he shielded his crotch from any unexpected backlash.

Five took in a deep breath of air and wiped away the last few drops of sweat that had been trickling down the back of his neck. Then he ran a shaky hand through his hair before straightening his suit coat and tie with as much dignity as he could manage.

“Sorry about that,” he told everyone, trying to regain his composure again. “If I said anything rude, I apologize. I was clearly not in my right mind.”

“So, no different than any other day,” Diego muttered under his breath.

Five shot him an irritated look, but said nothing. He turned to Lila. “Even though it was entirely unnecessary to stab me directly in the neck, you lunatic, thank you.”

“Happy to do it,” Lila grinned, slapping him hard on the back.

“Alright, then,” Five stated, rolling his shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

As he took one step forward, the front door of the house swung wide open, revealing an older, and very sweaty and harried looking, version of himself. In his other self’s hands was a rifle that was trained directly at Five’s head.

“Don’t fucking move,” the other Five warned through gritted teeth.

Five paused, taking in the clearly psychotic version of himself before quipping. “Hey, asshole…the safety’s still on.”

As the alternate version lowered the weapon to check the safety, Five and Lila exchanged knowing glances with one another, before simultaneously blinking onto the porch. Appearing directly in front of himself, Five grabbed the rifle out of his doppelganger’s hands, while at the same time Lila stabbed the needle of the second syringe into his neck.

“AH! MOTHERFUCKER!” the other Five screamed, falling to his knees as he slapped a hand over the pinprick of blood that had started to seep out of the small puncture wound. “WHAT THE FUCK, YOU PSYCHO?”

Five threw the rifle down to Luther, who caught it in one hand, before turning to Lila. “Really? In the neck again? What is wrong with you?”

“I live for your pain.”

With a shake of his head, Five looked down at the panting, cursing version of himself. “Stop being a pussy. It’s not that bad.”

His alternate glared up at him. “Fuck you, Blue’s Clues.”

Lila laughed loudly. “Nice!” She held out her hand for a high five, but when she only received an icy glare from both men, she shrugged. “You’re too close to the situation, but trust me, that was hilarious.”

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

“You have a lovely home, ma’am,” Luther said with an awkward smile as he sat scrunched on the couch between Klaus and Viktor.

The seven siblings, plus the older looking, alternate Five and his wife were gathered in the small living room. Five’s wife, who was introduced as Marie, sat perched on the arm of her husband’s chair, rubbing his back while he stared down his younger looking self.

“Thank you, Luther, that’s very kind.”

There was more awkward silence until finally Allison spoke up.

“Ok, so we obviously did not come here just for a friendly visit, although it is lovely meeting you two. However, we have a big problem. Our being in this timeline has caused a rift, so to speak, in the universe and now it’s trying to kill us.” She looked over at her smaller brother, who was standing with his hands shoved in his pockets, glowering angrily at his other self. “Five? Care to explain?”

Snapping reluctantly out of his stupor, Five faced his sister. “Right.” Then he addressed the other Five and his wife again. “So, as I’m sure you’ve noticed there are large energy waves pulsing over the city, erasing dogs and lobsters and now people.”

“Yeah, I have noticed. And I also happened to notice they started when Klaus here decided to follow me.”

Klaus started to protest, but Diego bumped him with his elbow, telling him to shut up. Five continued.

“Well, you are right about that. But it’s not Klaus’s fault, at least not solely. It’s all of ours. I thought we’d be able to remain here, just keeping a low profile, and live out our lives here. But, it seems the universe has other plans. So, we have accidentally created a kugelblitz and in a few short days it will destroy the entire universe.”

“Like a prolapsing rectum,” Lila added helpfully.

Both Fives looked at her with a frown and then turned back toward one another. The alternate Five set his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and steepling his hands under his chin. “So, you’re telling me that you group of assholes are the reason my family is going to be wiped out?”

Five nodded, actually looking a little sad. “I’m afraid so.”

“And you just came here to let me know, why? Just to give me a heads up? Mighty kind of you, thanks.”

Five gritted his teeth. “No, jacka—” He stopped mid-insult when Luther cleared his throat and gave him a look that said “Behave”. “No, that’s not why we came. We came…” He pushed a hand through his hair and he saw Marie bite back a smile as she recognized the same mannerisms as her husband. “We came to ask for help.”

“How am I supposed to help you? In case you forgot, James Bond, Jr., I AM you!” Marie gave him a pinch under his arm and the older Five jumped before looking just a tiny bit guilty. “Sorry.”

Five turned to his siblings, throwing his hands in the air. “See? I told you coming here was useless.” He turned to his doppelganger, leaning in with a caustic glare. “And just to remind you, shithead, I’m 28 years older than you, so watch your mouth.”

“Ok!” Luther jumped in, trying to salvage the conversation. “The thing is, Five,” he said, addressing the older version that was currently looking like he was considering punching his smaller self in the mouth. “We really do need your help. And you need his help. The two of you together are the only chance we have to stop this thing and get back to our correct timeline. Then you and your family, and the rest of the world, will be safe.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” the other Five said, tearing his eyes away from himself and turning to Luther. “My time travel math is just as shaky as his. I’ve been studying it my whole life, so it’s gotten better, but I still wouldn’t trust it. I certainly wouldn’t trust it with my wife and kids’ lives in question.” He placed a hand on his wife’s knee and squeezed it gently.

“Well, luckily, we won’t have to rely on just our powers,” Five explained, picking the black briefcase off the floor and holding it up for the other version to see.

“What the hell is that?”

Klaus piped up. “Remember I told you about the magical briefcase?”

The alternate Five nodded. “Yeah, I remember. So, how does it work?”

“Well, currently it doesn’t. Which is why we need you,” Five said.

The other Five took a skeptical look at the battered case. “How am I supposed to help? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Five sighed. “As it turns out, another version of ourselves created it, using our powers as its basic design. It’s one-hundred-percent reliable, unlike our blinks. That is, when the universe isn’t collapsing. Now, it’s a hunk of junk. That’s where you come in.”

“What makes you think I know how to fix it?”

Five’s mouth turned up at the corner with a smug smile. “Because, I know us. And I am willing to bet that you work in some sort of scientific field.” When he received no denial, he continued. “I am also willing to bet you have some sort of lab right here in your home where you’ve been working on time travel over the years, trying to perfect it.”

Marie laughed. “Wow, you are dead on with that. He’s made it his life’s work figuring out how to accurately time travel. Even when he was a teen, his mom said he was constantly in their basement working on it. She showed me pictures of him slumped over his desk, looking just like you actually, having fallen asleep while running his numbers. It was very cute.”

Five paused, thrown for a second by that comment. “His mom?”

The other Five nodded. “I was adopted after I jumped here,” he explained offhandedly. “So, what you’re telling me is that if we can get this briefcase up and running again, you can return to your rightful timeline, the universe will correct itself, and my family will be safe?”

Still dwelling on the fact that his other self had been adopted by different people, Five nodded slowly before collecting himself again. “Theoretically.”

The alt Five turned to look at his wife. “What do you think, darling?”

“Five, they’re your family, even if they aren’t from your same timeline. You told me how much you’ve missed them over the years, and now here they are! They need your help, and I know you can give it to them.” She brushed a piece of hair out of his eye with a sweet smile. “This is what you’ve been working towards. To use your powers for something good and big.” She kissed him, placing a hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes for a moment. “You can do this.”

He nodded and then turned back toward the group. “Ok, I will do what I can to help.”

“Thank you,” Allison breathed out with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, so much.”

“Better go show him your lab,” Marie told her Five. “In the meantime, you must all be starving. The kids were just next door playing, but I’ll have them come back and I’ll make dinner. Sound good?”

“I know I could eat,” Luther said excitedly while Viktor rolled his eyes at him.

“That would be lovely, Marie, thank you. Can we help?” Viktor asked.

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

As the two Fives made their way down the basement steps, neither of them said a word. Five was still reeling from the brief bit of information he had just received about his 30 year-old self. This other Five had been adopted by someone other than Reginald. And from the sounds of it, they were nice, normal people. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to clear his head and focus on what he needed to do. But it was extremely difficult when all he kept thinking about was how this alternate version of himself had been given the chance for a normal life while he just kept getting shit on over and over again. It was maddening to think about, and if he let it fester in his mind, he was going to go crazy.

Fuck, he needed a drink.

As his other self flipped the light switch on at the end of the stairs, the overhead lights flickered on with a quiet hum. Five stopped on the bottom stair and took everything in. The space wasn’t huge, but every single usable square inch was filled with something. Long work tables scattered with tools and notebooks, empty coffee cups and paper plates filled with crumbs. The walls were lined with white boards; each one crammed with lines and lines of familiar equations and scribblings. It was surreal to see his own handwriting and obvious work in a place he’d never set foot in before.

As he scanned over the jam-packed computer desk against the far wall, his eyes fell to the framed picture sitting amongst the clutter. It was the other version of himself, with Marie and his two kids. It must not have been taken that long ago, because the two adults looked the same. The kids in the picture looked to be about four and six. A girl and a boy. The four of the them were on a beach somewhere, the sun shining down and making the water behind them sparkle. The girl was perched on her dad’s shoulders, a pink sunhat on her head. The boy was standing in front of Marie, grinning widely with a plastic bucket and shovel in his hand. The other him was smiling directly at the camera, while his pretty wife looked lovingly over at him. Five had never seen himself smile like that before. He had no idea that’s what he looked like when genuinely happy. It was off-putting, to say the least.

“You ok?” the other Five asked gruffly when he realized his older yet smaller self seemed frozen to the spot.

 Five cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. So what is all this stuff?”

“Well, I’m sure you recognize the equations and proofs,” he said, pointing to the white boards. He gestured to the tables. “I’ve been working on developing a type of time travel system, much like that briefcase. Some sort of object that could be programmed specifically to a certain date and time, so we don’t have to rely solely on our powers. Like—”

“A watch,” Five finished for him.

The other Five nodded. “Exactly.”

“I never did understand the briefcase,” Five mused. “It’s so bulky.”

“I assume it’s bulletproof, though?”

Five scoffed. “Don’t get me started.”

“Well, anyways, have a look around. Maybe something here can help, I don’t know. I’ve never really tried it in practical application before. It’s always been theoretical.”

“That’s ok,” Five said, setting the briefcase on top of one of the tables. “We have this as a guide. We can see if the inner workings of the case make sense in comparison to your work here. Then maybe we can piece things together to create a working timepiece.”

The alternate Five nodded thoughtfully again, studying his other self. “Hang on,” he said before striding over to the desk and opening the bottom drawer. He pulled out a bottle of single malt scotch and two glass tumblers. After filling each one halfway, he handed one over to Five.

“I recognize the need for a drink,” he explained with a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Five accepted the glass, trying to disguise the fact that he was practically salivating at the sight. Needing a drink was an understatement. He wanted the whole damn bottle. But he didn’t need to be getting drunk at a time like this. And he also didn’t need to be showcasing his shortcomings to this clearly sober, well-adjusted, life-is-just-peachy-keen version of him, either. The fact that he was a raging alcoholic with unhealthy coping mechanisms didn’t seem pertinent to the current situation. Instead, he lifted the glass in a toast and took as generous of a swallow as he dared. The whiskey was smooth and it tasted so fucking good, Five had to silently tell himself to not slug the whole thing back in one gulp. He watched as the other him took a leisurely sip from his own glass. He probably goes to church every Sunday, too. Fucking Mother Theresa over here.

“So, where do you work?” Five asked, trying to change the subject.

“Over at the university.”

“Physics department?”

“Naturally.”

Five nodded. “That’s where I always figured I’d end up, too. Just…didn’t work out for me.”

“Yeah, what happened? Klaus said something about a different apocalypse?”

Five paused, staring into his glass. “Let’s just get to work, ok?”

The other version shrugged. “Sure thing.”

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 10 || PRESTONPANS ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

The air in the cottage was warm and noisy with breathing; not the healthy racket of snoring men, but the shallow gasps of men for whom breathing hurts, and the moans of those who have found a temporary oblivion that frees them from the manly obligation of suffering in silence. The men in this cottage were those badly wounded, but in no immediate danger. I knew, though, that death walks at night in the aisles of a sick ward, searching for those whose defenses are lowered, who may stray unwittingly into its path through loneliness and fear. Some of the wounded had wives who slept next to them, to comfort them in the dark, but none in this cottage. They had me. If I could do little to heal them or stop their pain, I could at least let them know that they didn’t lie alone; that someone stood here, between them and the shadow. Beyond anything I could do, it was my job only to be there. I rose and made my way slowly once again through the pallets on the floor, stooping at each one, murmuring and touching, straightening a blanket, smoothing tangled hair, rubbing the knots that form in cramped limbs. A sip of water here, a change of dressing there, the reading of an attitude of tense embarrassment that meant a urinal was needed, and the matter-of-fact presentation that allowed the man to ease himself, the stone bottle growing warm and heavy in my hand. I stepped outdoors to empty one of these, and paused for a moment, gathering the cool, rainy night to myself, letting the soft moisture wipe away the touch of coarse, hairy skin and the smell of sweating men. “Ye dinna sleep much, Sassenach.” The soft Scottish voice came from the direction of the road. The other hospital cottages lay in that direction; the officers’ quarters, the other way, in the village manse. “You dinna sleep much, either,” I responded dryly. How long had he gone without sleep? I wondered. “I slept in the field last night, with the men.” “Oh, yes? Very restful,” I said, with an edge that made him laugh. Six hours’ sleep in a wet field, followed by a battle in which he’d been stepped on by a horse, wounded by a sword, and done God knows what else. Then he had gathered his men, collected the wounded, tended the hurt, mourned his dead, and served his Prince. And through none of it had I seen him pause for food, drink, or rest.

I didn’t bother scolding. It wasn’t even worth mentioning that he ought to have been among the patients on the floor. It was his job to be here, as well.

“There are other women, Sassenach,” he said gently. “Shall I have Archie Cameron send someone down?” It was a temptation, but one I pushed away before I could think about it too long, for fear that if I acknowledged my fatigue, I would never move again. I stretched, hands against the small of my back.

“No,” I said. “I’ll manage ’til the dawn. Then someone else can take over for a time.” Somehow I felt that I must get them through the night; at dawn they would be safe.

He didn’t scold, either; just laid a hand on my shoulder and drew me to lean against him for a moment. We shared what strength we had, unspeaking. “I’ll stay with ye, then,” he said, drawing away at last. “I canna sleep before light, myself.” “The other men from Lallybroch?” He moved his head toward the fields near the town where the army was camped. “Murtagh’s in charge.” “Oh, well, then. Nothing to worry about,” I said, and saw him smile in the light from the window. There was a bench outside the cottage, where the goodwife would sit on sunny days to clean fish or mend clothes. I drew him down to sit beside me, and he sagged back against the wall of the house with a sigh. His patent exhaustion reminded me of Fergus, and the boy’s expression of confused bewilderment after the battle. I reached to caress the back of Jamie’s neck, and he turned his head blindly toward me, resting his brow against my own. “How was it, Jamie?” I asked softly, fingers rubbing hard and slow over the tight-ridged muscles of his neck and shoulders. “What was it like? Tell me.” There was a short silence, then he sighed, and began to talk, haltingly at first, and then faster, as if wanting to get it out. “We had no fire, for Lord George thought we must move off the ridge before daylight, and wanted no hint of movement to be seen below. We sat in the dark for a time. Couldna even talk, for the sound would carry to the plain. So we sat. “Then I felt something grab my thigh in the dark, and near jumped out of my skin.” He inserted a finger in his mouth and rubbed gingerly. “Nearly bit my tongue off.” I felt the shift of his muscles as he smiled, though his face was hidden. “Fergus?” The ghost of a laugh floated through the dark.

“Aye, Fergus. Crawled through the grass on his belly, the little bastard, and I thought he was a snake, at that. He whispered to me about Anderson, and I crawled off after him and took Anderson to see Lord George.” His voice was slow and dreamy, talking under the spell of my touch. “And then the order came that we’d move, following Anderson’s trail. And the whole of the army got to its feet, and set off in the dark.” The night was clear black and moonless, without the usual cover of cloud that trapped starlight and diffused it toward the earth. As the Highland army made its way in silence down the narrow path behind Richard Anderson, each man could see no farther than the shuffling heels of the man before him, each step widening the trodden path through wet grass. The army moved almost without noise. Orders were relayed in murmurs from man to man, not shouted. Broadswords and axes were muffled in the folds of their plaids, powder flasks tucked inside shirts against fast-beating hearts. Once on sound footing, still in total silence, the Highlanders sat down, made themselves as comfortable as was possible without fire, ate what cold rations there were, and composed themselves to rest, wrapped in their plaids, in sight of the enemy’s campfires. “We could hear them talking,” Jamie said. His eyes were closed, hands clasped behind his head, as he leaned against the cottage wall. “Odd, to hear men laughing over a jest, or asking for a pinch of salt or a turn at the wineskin—and know that in a few hours, ye may kill them—or them you. Ye can’t help wondering, ye ken; what does the face behind that voice look like? Will you know the fellow if ye meet him in the morning?” Still, the tremors of anticipated battle were no match for sheer fatigue, and the “Black Frasers”—so called for the traces of charcoal that still adorned their features—and their chief had been awake for more than thirty-six hours by then. He had picked a sheaf of marrow-grass for a pillow, tucked the plaid around his shoulders, and lain down in the waving grass beside his men. During his time with the French army, years before, one of the sergeants had explained to the younger mercenaries the trick of falling asleep the night before a battle. “Make yourself comfortable, examine your conscience, and make a good Act of Contrition. Father Hugo says that in time of war, even if there is no priest to shrive you, your sins can be forgiven this way. Since you cannot commit sins while asleep—not even you, Simenon!—you will awake in a state of grace, ready to fall on the bastards. And with nothing to look forward to but victory or heaven—how can you be afraid?”

While privately noting a few flaws in this argument, Jamie had found it still good advice; freeing the conscience eased the soul, and the comforting repetition of prayer distracted the mind from fearful imaginings and lulled it toward sleep. He gazed upward into the black vault of the sky, and willed the tightness of neck and shoulders to relax into the ground’s hard embrace. The stars were faint and hazy tonight, no match for the nearby glow of the English fires. His mind reached out to the men around him, resting briefly on each, one by one. The stain of sin was small weight on his conscience, compared with these. Ross, McMurdo, Kincaid, Kent, McClure … he paused to give brief thanks that his wife and the boy Fergus at least were safe. His mind lingered on his wife, wanting to bask in the memory of her reassuring smile, the solid, wonderful warmth of her in his arms, pressed tight against him as he had kissed her goodbye that afternoon. Despite his own weariness and the waiting presence of Lord George outside, he had wanted to tumble her onto the waiting mattress right then and take her quickly, at once, without undressing. Strange how the imminence of fighting made him so ready, always. Even now … But he hadn’t yet finished his mental roster, and he felt his eyelids closing already, as tiredness sought to pull him under. He dismissed the faint tightening of his testicles that came at thought of her, and resumed his roll call, a shepherd treacherously lulled to sleep by counting the sheep he was leading to slaughter. But it wouldn’t be a slaughter, he tried to reassure himself. Light casualties for the Jacobite side. Thirty men killed. Out of two thousand, only a slim chance that some of the Lallybroch men would be among that number, surely? If she was right. He shuddered faintly under the plaid, and fought down the momentary doubt that wrenched his bowels. If. God, if. Still he had trouble believing it, though he had seen her by that cursed rock, face dissolving in terror around the panic-wide gold eyes, the very outlines of her body blurring as he, panicked also, had clutched at her, pulling her back, feeling little more than the frail double bone of her forearm under his hand. Perhaps he should have let her go, back to her own place. No, no perhaps. He knew that he should. But he had pulled her back. Given her the choice, but kept her with him by the sheer force of his wanting her. And so she had stayed. And given him the choice—to believe her, or not. To act, or to run. And the choice was made now, and no power on earth could stop the dawn from coming. His heart beat heavily, pulse echoing in wrists and groin and the pit of his stomach. He sought to calm it, resuming his count, one name to each heartbeat. Willie McNab, Bobby McNab, Geordie McNab … thank God, young Rabbie McNab was safe, left at home … Will Fraser, EwanFraser, Geoffrey McClure … McClure … had he touched on both George and Sorley? Shifted slightly, smiling faintly, feeling for the soreness left along his ribs. Murtagh. Aye, Murtagh, tough old boot … my mind is no troubled on your account, at least. William Murray, Rufus Murray, Geordie, Wallace, Simon … And at last, had closed his eyes, commended all of them to the care of the black sky above, and lost himself in the murmured words that came to him still most naturally in French—“Mon Dieu, je regrette …”[...]

Outside once more, I thought Jamie had fallen asleep. His face rested on his folded forearms, crossed on his knees. But he looked up at the sound of my step, and took my hand as I sat beside him. “I heard the cannon at dawn,” I said, thinking of the man inside, leg broken by a cannonball. “I was afraid for you.” He laughed softly. “So was I, Sassenach. So were we all.” Quiet as wisps of mist, the Highlanders advanced through the sea grass, one foot at a time. There was no sense of darkness lessening, but the feel of the night had changed. The wind had changed, that was it; it blew from the sea over the cold dawning land, and the faint thunder of waves on distant sand could be heard.

Despite his impression of continued dark, the light was coming.

36 PRESTONPANS~DRAGONFLY IN AMBER

[chillinglyadventurous]

Taking advantage of the fact that it's Halloween month >:D

Ford with a scientist friend who is very reserved, just work and friendship.

Then Bill Cipher arrives and his main plan was to have a deal with the Scientist!Reader , but the reader is not stupid, so it ends with Bill making the deal with Ford, Bill puts Ford in a complicated situation by making the Reader give in to the deal, but deep down the reader knows he has nothing to fear.

My idea is that the reader, having knowledge of the bizarre things of Gravity Falls, will have a very disturbed head, with the worst things (like the episode that goes into Stan's head but is terrifying) but what could be so terrifying to make Bill back down 🤨

Well give me your opinion on this 😋 have a nice day

So, I’ve had a kind of similar idea before! I just didn’t know how to write it. Still don’t, if I’m being honest.

So, I’m a Chilling Adventures of Sabrina fan. I think mid season 2, I started writing a little fanfiction that happened after the season was over and before season 3 came out. I won’t get into the details because that work has since been deleted along with the AO3 account it was published under.

Anyways, the basic premise was that my OC eventually had more powers than Lucifer, stemming from a deal with God. OC was basically a god herself. Couldn’t die. Died a couple times. Came back from the dead. Super messed up stuff.

Well, I think something similar would translate well into this request. So, basically, you would be this sort of all-powerful being, but you would just want a ‘normal’ life, basically. With the same intentions Bill had lied about having, you knew Ford was a great mind. You had sought him out to teach him the mysteries of the universe. You work well with Stanford. When he eventually brings Fiddleford around, you work well with him too.

You look human. Nothing about you seems odd. Even if you did do something odd, it was Gravity Falls. No one would have noticed.

After Ford made his deal, he didn’t tell you, but you knew. You could just tell it was Bill. There had been a prophecy, the same one Ford had found and used to summon Bill. You see, either the entire zodiac could defeat Bill or you could. Ford was the six fingered hand and you, being all powerful as you were, knew that. Not that it wasn’t obvious to begin with.

The only way he could beat you, destroy the prophecy, was if you made a deal with him. If you did that, he wouldn’t need the portal or the rift to take over dimension 46’/. His deal would give him his physical form, but you were too smart for that.

However, one night after Fiddleford had gone home/was asleep, Bill would come in, dressed in Ford’s skin. He would threaten to kill Ford, your now good friend. You would panic because Bill was more than capable. You wouldn’t let that happen. So, you shake his hand, but, somehow, the deal isn’t complete.

He enters your mind. At first, once he’s in there, it’s a bit darker than he had expected. Nothing seems too off and he thought it would be easy. He shuffles through your mind only to find what he thinks he’s looking for. Behind a door covered in chains, he sees it. You had orchestrated the whole thing. You were the one who had controlled him to make him destroy his own dimension in an attempt to weaken him.

The master of mind games had been manipulated. You were too powerful for him and, unlike Ford, you couldn’t be tricked so easy. You’d kill him. It was only a matter of time.

After all of this is where it could either become some sort of AU or keep with canon. If the story verged into AU territory, that could be it. There could be some grand showdown in the mindscape. Anything is possible, obviously.

On the flip side, it could keep with canon. The journals/Book of Bill which I still haven’t read because it’s been sold out where I am said Bill left for a while. Ford wondered where he was. Bill could have backed down for a little bit, hoping to keep off your radar. Does could still get sucked into the multiverse. Maybe it’s you who shows him the truth about Bill. The possibilities are endless.

All in all, I think this is an amazing idea! Apart from what I’ve gotten into here, there’s a million ways this could go. There’s a possibility of so many twists and turns!

[ineffable-dads]

Don't Wait Up

Ineffable Husbands, Ineffable Dads, Light Angst, Mentions of Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Crowley, Child!OC

Ineffable Dads Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!

Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!

Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.

Word Count: 1.9K

Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score. 

She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up.  The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.

His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.

He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.

It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.

That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.

With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so.  No point in pretending to read.  She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.

Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.

“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”

She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs.  The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.

“Dear, are you alright?”

Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing.  She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.

Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.

“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”

“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly.  “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.

“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”

He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.

“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”

“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.

“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk.  What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”

He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.

“Belle what have I told you about lying?”

“You do it all the time.”

He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”

“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”

“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame.  “Now that is completely off the subject.”

There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.

He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”

Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst.  He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good.  For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him. 

A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.

There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out.  He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.

“What happened,” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly.  “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”

The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”

“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear.  I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”

Crowley nodded.  “Right, best let me take the lead.”

“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.

“Tough love.”

He then turned his attention up the stairs.

“Izz! I’m coming up!”

It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered.  And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.

“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”

“No!”

“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”

He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.

Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.

“That’s not fair!” she shouted.

“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion.  Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”

“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human.  It’s a very human thing to do.  Now can’t I just cry?!”

It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one. 

Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her.  He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug.  “There, there, it will be alright.”

Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.

“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.

She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke.  I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”

“What joke was that?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Isabelle,” Crowley said.

That got both their attentions. 

Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.

It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.

The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.

“It was all a joke,” she said quietly.  “Thomas asking me out.  It was all a joke.”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.

“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did.  After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner.  So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”

She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.

“They just thought it was really funny.  I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”

The tears were flowing freely now.

“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid.  I’m so stupid.”

She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.

“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming.  You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”

She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words.  Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him.  He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for.  That’s it.  Just let it all out.”

Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks.  His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze.  Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.

Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning.  She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said.  “It’s going to take a while to recover from this.  She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”

“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that.  You got this angel?”

“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who. 

He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause.  He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him.  Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.

[artemis-b-writes]

A/N: Hey yall! First and foremost: If you’ve read this before this no you haven’t. This is my first time posting this Anyways! This is my first long-form story so of course I chose the longest show known to man!

Thank you to my lovely beta reader: @ebodebo (go follow her) for putting up w my constant talk of rewriting (turns out you do need 5 chapters of filler lol) and being my all around soundboard. I’m so excited for the things we have planned! Enough yapping let’s get on with it!

TW: gore, violence, strong language, mature content

… - - - … … - - - … … - - - … … - - -… … - - - …

Chapter one- The World Is Ending

August 26th, 2010-

The beeping of hospital monitors haunted my sleep. I’d been spending every night in uncomfortable, plastic, hospital chairs for as many nights as my mom allowed. My father Rick Grimes had been shot in the line of duty 2 weeks ago and had fallen into a coma from the blood loss.

I stayed with him when my mom worked so he wasn’t alone. I’d tell him about school, keep him updated on Carl and read to him, praying he could hear me. A fresh vase of flowers at least made the room bright for when he’d wake up.

But right now I was sleeping, or trying anyway. I could feel a thin hospital blanket on me. Theo, one of the hospital's CNAs, harassed me about taking care of myself and usually I fell asleep fully clothed in their shitty chairs without a blanket.

“Peaches?” The voice behind her made Victoria practically jump out of her seat.

“Jesus Shane….you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” Victoria asked harshly. She never liked Shane, even as a little girl they butted heads. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine why Rick would hang out with him after work.

“Victoria we need to go. Now.” He spoke quickly, making his way to her dads bed and kneeling down beside him. “Rick, if you’re gonna wake up now’s the time man, shits going down and we need to leave.”

“Shane,” Victoria laughed half heartedly “what are you talking about?” Just when she thought he was finally losing it, gunfire started to ring out from outside the door. Shane pulled Nadia down under him as she screamed. Shane covered her mouth and she would’ve bit him in different circumstances.

I mean who the hell would open fire in a hospital?!

Victoria could feel the tears start to well as Shane begged her father to wake up so they could leave, telling him that if we stayed they’d all die. After a few minutes of bargaining Shane picked her up and dragged her out of the room.

“No!” She tried to push against his grip but he was incredibly strong. Victoria kicked and pulled until Shane pushed her into a hallway, begging her to be quiet or else they’d be found. She peaked around the corner, Shane pulled a gurney in front of Rick’s room. There was blood everywhere, screams and gunfire echoed down the hall. Shane grabbed her arm and they ran from the hospital, Victoria broke down when they got to his pickup.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Victoria hit Shane’s arm as hard as she could over and over and over until she didn’t have it in her anymore. She knew he was hurting too but didn’t care. He left her dad there to die.

“Peaches I had to.”

“Don’t call me peaches Shane. My dad is fucking dead.”

Shane sighed again, the truck roared to life as we peeled out of the parking lot. She stared out the window, thinking of her dad. Would he die? Would they leave a comatose man’s body to sort himself out? What if he woke up and everyone was gone?

Victoria and her father had always been close. She was the stereotypical ‘daddy’s girl’, hell as soon as she was old enough to hold a rifle without falling over she and her dad had gone hunting every season.

He taught her how to cook, she knew all his favorite bands and all the words to every corny song that he absolutely loved. Sometimes when Carl was a baby she and Rick would sneak out and go to the 7/11 down the block just to get candy and rent cheesy movies to watch together….and now they’d never share those moments again.

“We’re here.”

Shane’s voice broke Victoria from her daze, she looked out the window to see her mom and brother already packed up ready to hit the road. “Go’n and pack a bag, I’ll talk to your mama and Carl.”

Carl.

He was only 10…and now he’s going to find out he’ll never see his dad again and the world might be ending?? He’ll never get those moments hunting alone with his dad as the sun breaks the day. Or watch cheesy movies with her and their dad when Victoria would be home from college. She could feel the bile rising once again as she made her way past her family and into her room.

Victoria had a typical 17 year olds room. Honestly, the floor was littered with laundry she needed to do as well as some CDs she’d rummaged through that morning. Her walls were a neon teal, they’d mostly been covered with posters of movies and bands, and paintings she’d created out of boredom. She tried to soak in every inch of her room in case she’d never see it again. As she started to pack she took a Polaroid off her wall.

“Jeez Anthony….you should be at practice right around now. Please be safe.”

She tucked the Polaroid of her and her best friend into the pocket of her backpack and kept packing. Just the essentials: a couple pairs of jeans, some tee shirts, boots, hat, dads hunting jacket, socks…toothbrush? Definitely a toothbrush. A hairbrush and a few notebooks and pens (and some comic books for Carl). She also made the decision to pack her hunting rifle in case they got stuck foraging for food, as well as a heavy knife.

She threw her bag into the back of the truck so that no one would suspect how heavy it was. Her mom and brother were crying into Shane as he had just broken the news. Or however he’d spun the story…but Victoria knew the truth that Shane had abandoned his “best friend”. Shane loaded everyone up into the truck and said they’d be headed to Atlanta and that the military would help them.

“Are we going to die?”

While it was spoken barely above a whisper, the question jolted Victoria out of her daydreamed haze. She looked down at her brother Carl who was laying in her lap.

“No baby. Because I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and so will mom and Shane.” Victoria tried her best to reassure him, rubbing his back softly. She’d instructed him to lay in her lap so he couldn’t see the panic that the rest of the world was in.

Before they knew it, they’d left King County and were headed to Atlanta. Victoria fiddled with her cross necklace, Carl had fallen asleep leaving the truck uncomfortably quiet.

The Grimes weren’t really a religious family but Victoria did usually attend Wednesday night Youth Group with her best friend Anthony. The necklace was a gift from him.

Anthony. There he was on her mind again, she’d thought about calling him but Lori demanded she save her battery incase of emergency. Anthony Smith had been her best friend since middle school. They did everything together and were practically attached at the hip when they saw each other. He was a year older than her but that never mattered in how close they were.

Anthony was actually quite soft spoken, and smart as a whip. He was a tall kid, probably standing at about 6’3. He was built like an athlete, but he had to be with Track and field. They actually became friends at a track meet in sixth grade and kept up with eachother daily through AOL and Skype. And obviously only hung around each other at said meets. Anthony’s dad was a PE teacher and Coach so he definitely fueled the athletic fire in both kids. Anthony has always been a sweet kid and even when he was an asshole Victoria could never be mad at-

“Victoria! Get your head out of the clouds I’m talking!”

Victoria jolted in her seat, there she was daydreaming again. Lori was giving her daughter quite the concerned look.

“Where are we mom?” Victoria looked out the window to see full bumper to bumper traffic.

“Outside of Atlanta but as you can see we’re stuck in traffic” Shane answered from outside, with quite an annoyed tone Victoria noticed. She ignored Shane and hopped out of the truck so she could stretch her legs.

“Where’s Carl? I think I threw some comic books in my bag, I’m sure he’s bored out of his mind sitting here.” Victoria looked around and spotted Carl a few cars down playing checkers with a girl who looked to be about his age. She had a short blonde bob and a smile as bright as the sun.

Victoria smiled in amusement and made her way to the car with her mom. “Someone has a cru-ush!” She teased in a sing-song voice. She yelped when Carl turned around and smacked her arm as hard as he could.

“Mo-om!!! Carl hit me!”

“Don’t tease your brother then!” She laughed. Victoria rolled her eyes and fluffed her brother's hair before sitting behind him to watch the kids play. Right as she sat down a woman came from the front of the car with waters. She was a smaller woman with buzzed gray hair.

“Oh! You must be Victoria, I’m Carol!” She had a smile just as bright as Sofias, Victoria made a mental note that they must be related. She smiled and thanked her for the water, and as she took a sip Carl enacted his revenge.

“You say I have a crush on a girl I just met when you’ve been after Anthony since forever.” Victoria showered the back of Carls with the water she had just taken a sip of and was prepared to cuss him out when the commotion started. Bombs were dropping into Atlanta.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Victoria screamed as she pulled the kids down to the ground underneath Carol’s car. She moved her body over the both of them so they would be shielded if anything came down.

The rest of the night was a blur. Shane grabbed everyone’s bags from the truck, grunting as he lifted Victoria's particularly heavy bag. They ran into the woods with Carol, her husband Ed, and Sophia. There were screams in the distance and somehow Victoria and the kids got separated. She held onto both of them tightly. They ran until they came up on a high spot with a small clearing.

“Stop right there.” The shotgun barrel was aimed right between Victoria's eyes. They widened with fear as she put both her hands in front of her slowly.

“Sir, we’re just trying to get off the road…I have two small kids with me, please.”

The man’s aim faltered at the sight of the kids. Victoria rushed him, taking the gun and pointing it back at him. It probably wasn’t her smartest move but she had Sophia and Carl to look out for. There was a shriek behind her and Victoria whipped around just in time to shoot a man who was trying to get Sophia. Wait…what the hell?

Victoria slowly crept up to the man. He looked pale, his eyes were white and glossy and there was fresh blood around his mouth.

“Good aim kid. I’m sorry I pointed that thing at you. I just had to make sure you weren’t like him. The names Dale, you kids can stay with me and the girls tonight and we’ll look for your crew in the morning.” Dale smiled at her warmly, he was an older man judging by his white hair. But he had kind eyes and it was late so Victoria decided he could he trusted for the night.

She nodded, grabbing the kids as they headed into Dale's RV. There were two blonde girls sitting on the couch. One older one younger, Victoria figured they were probably sisters.

“Dale, who are they?” The older blonde asked, glaring at the three kids.

“Easy Andrea, the older one can take out those things like you wouldn’t believe!” Dale smiled back at Victoria. “They’re just staying for the night and…I didn’t get your name sweetheart?”

“Victoria. Victoria Grimes.”

… - - - … … - - - … … - - - … … - - -… … - - - …

[scordoesart]

Season 2 is right around the corner but here’s an au

Picking up from the end of season 1, Stede and the part of his crew that was marooned are sailing around trying to catch up with the revenge, but are ill-supplied to be doing so both due to the small size of the boat on the open ocean and that Stede didn’t seem to have much in ways of supplied with him when he left Barbados. I don’t think the marooned crew would consider Stede as their captain at this time (given that he abandoned them to the kraken!Ed). Stede would probably be avoidant in talking about where he’s been (in the “rules for thee but not for me” way he operates) other than he’s back to stay, has no money, and only what little experience he’s had in his brief time sailing as skills. They wouldn’t abandon Stede though, seeing him as maybe the only person who could fix this mess. Stede and his bunch get picked up by another ship who, turns out, is also looking for the Revenge. This ship is either operated or in the command of Bellamy (though he’s using a different name these days because he’s supposed to be dead). When Stede introduces himself, he’s somewhat met with “a pirate captain without a ship and that wasn’t mutinied upon?” questioning (some amusement there on Bellamy’s behalf), and Olu or all of the marooned people explains to their understanding what happened on the Revenge while Stede was gone to the best of their ability. The tale of the Revenge’s crew’s current state was left in just drives them both to want to find it even more. (A good chunk of this story is tracking down information to find the Revenge, which fortunately, Bellamy still has information sources in spades. Sometimes things just happen on the sea. Maybe they run into Jack again?). Bellamy may or may not be a less than open about who he’s chasing after on the Revenge (haven’t decided, or maybe it’s something that eventually comes out but isn’t said directly at first? Bellamy would have little reason to give up his many-year alias/charade to Stede and also strikes me as the kind of man to hold his cards close until he wants to play them). Stede gets to know more about Ed as a person from someone who knew him years ago without Ed there to curate ( Much like Jack and Ed, they act like no time has passed next they meet. I think they would have had a kind of rivalry but also an underlying respect for one another. or at least some base kind of comeradery) and also about pirating when money isn’t your background. Just to complicate things, because Stede and Ed have escaped the royal navy, pirate hunters have been sent after the Revenge (Hornigold maybe?). This is discovered at one of the ports they stop at for information. Time is ticking for them to find the Revenge. Stede no longer has the family inheritance money to lean on, and from the change in lifestyle he’s had to take to compensate, he develops a kind of understanding if not respect for Izzy’s steadfastness in duty of running the ship. ------------- Meanwhile back on the Revenge.... Things keep getting worse somehow. Izzy knows he Fucked Up (see walking on thin ice with Ed), but keeps telling himself Blackbeard is back and this is what he (Izzy) wanted. It’s what’s best for Ed. Izzy tells himself this, but even he knows it’s all gone wrong. He can’t face that reality because Izzy only finds the value of himself in serving Blackbeard. This wasn’t always true. It’s not something he’s ready to confront yet. Izzy is also managing (not well) the missing pinky toe whose stump is healing about as well as Lucius’ finger did. His swordsmanship has also suffered due to the lack of balance from its loss. He must hide all this to the best of his ability to keep up appearances, but of course things will go horribly wrong. Ed notices none of this of course; too wrapped up in his own grief and trying to be the Kraken for the one last reliable person (Izzy) he’s scared will leave him if he isn’t being exactly what Izzy expects him to be. After all, Stede disappeared on him without a word, Jack helped Izzy sell Stede (though ed probably interpreted it as selling both ed and stede) out to the British. Ed and Izzy haven’t been talking outside of strictly first mate-captain business talk. And even then, sometimes it’s Izzy (nervously but with a front to show the crew otherwise) managing without Ed. Lucius is living in the walls at this point and sees and hears much from people when they think they are alone. Ed’s fragile state and crying. Izzy’s struggles with his foot and brief forlorn expressions when he’s alone. Maybe there’s times when he’d grip the ring, saying nothing but mind going mile a minute to something Lucius wouldn’t know at this point. He could probably pick up that it’s a thought of someone missed. Lucius can’t keep a secret for long so he’d start conversing secretly with some of the crew. Jim perhaps? The two of them have a precident of secrets kept a  la season 1. Those that were part of the Revenge both don’t see a way out of this and start trying to plan for a means of a way out of this. Would there have been more crew transferred from the Queen Anne’s Revenge to the Revenge to fill out the crew with competent pirates? Maybe. Eventually though Izzy can’t ignore that this isn’t anything like the usual moodswings of  Blackbeard he’s accustomed to managing. Things aren’t changing and he’s already been dragged too deep underwater by the kraken to surface from the situation. Might as well continue to try and keep the rest of the crew afloat and working as they should be. ---------- (A maybe possibility of an event but not sure how it fits in characterization wise?) Lucius eventually reveals himself to Izzy (under funny accidental circumstances probably). Perhaps when things have gotten Really Bad for Izzy’s foot and he’s bed bound with fever and infection? Would Izzy admit to Lucius he didn’t think an infection would be the thing to do him in? Probably not, but maybe in such a situation he would? (I didn’t think through this scene too much, but maybe some more direct hints that there was someone else (Sam) for Izzy a lifetime ago? But since Izzy never really dealt with the loss other than just shove it down, he doesn’t really want to talk about it? This would provide an opportunity for those that were left from the Revenge crew to gain a kind of respect and the briefest of peaks beneath the demanding middle manager demeanor Izzy has. HOWEVER, this seemingly conflicts with two of the truths Izzy upholds for himself: Loyalty to his captain above all else, and, pirates all just in the process of screwing eachother over) ------------ Back with not the Revenge... Bellamy, Stede, and the rest of the marooned crew eventually catch up to the  Revenge with barely enough time before the pirate hunters arrive. If Stede hadn’t but it together by now just who Bellamy was looking for, it would be outright said who specifically is being sought after. (Stede probably wouldn’t put it together that the man he calls Iggy has the name Israel or may be referred to by the nickname Baz) Stede could say it’s him and he’s returned, but Ed wouldn’t believe him. By now, Stede looks quite different a man. No matter what Stede says, It takes a proper pirate boarding and takeover to get Ed to listen. Maybe Stede getting stabbed by Ed (just like he was taught) to get Ed to listen. The revenge crew on both sides wouldn’t want to fight their friends/companions. The jig is seemingly up on romcom logic where everyone is going to be okay. Maybe Ed boils over and Stede sees the Blackbeard the books he has tell of? Does Ed kill someone in his kraken rage or just think he killed someone in order for him to snap out of it enough to allow that emotional vulnerability to show again? (It would have to be him directly doing it, not throwing someone into the sea, or fire, or anything like that. As with when Jack was talking about Ed burning people alive in ep 8, Ed considered it the fire doing the killing, not himself.) There is of course a dramatic and emotional reunion of all the couples. Them all dealing with what happened in their own ways. Izzy of course is beyond words. Not knowing how to emotionally deal with 1) Sam being alive. Sam being here. 2) Stede Bonnet is back. 3)Pirate hunters (Hornigold?) on the horizon coming right for them. That third point would cut everyone’s emotional reunions short, but also be the only one of the three that Izzy has any inkling of how to deal with after years of shoving his own emotions down and never dealing with them. The fight to even get on the Revenge having caused enough fatigue that a fuckery has to be used to get away. Stede gets to showcase what he’s learned as a practical, broke, pirate (and that probably not enough if he creates the fuckery without assistance from others). There’s a grand kind of confrontation between Hornigold and the two captains who were once under his command. Stede gains a deeper understanding of the man that in many ways shaped Ed (and Izzy and Sam and Jack and maybe other figures that could have been encountered while looking for the Revenge such as Anne Bonny and Mary Reed). And then finally, the crew can start to unpack and sort out the situation. It’s a long process. The world, under normal logic, wouldn’t wait for them to sort such things out. Maybe romcom time makes a comeback and they can sort through at least a good chunk of it. Ed, for his part, does a lot of growth or at least tries to. In the end, Izzy ends up leaving with Sam for retirement. Ed tells him to go, be happy. Releases him from service (much to Izzy’s conflicted feelings on it). Izzy insists that no that’s a big mistake. Ed insists that’s what would make Ed happy (even if that too is a lie in some capacity?): to see Izzy finally have that same happiness with Sam that Ed’s now found with Stede. -------------- As for what happened between Izzy and Sam all those years ago... Years ago, Sam was sweet on Izzy when they were both serving under Hornigold. It was a whirlwind romance. Sam promised Izzy fine things and retirement together- something so rare for those in their line of work. It seemed like the stuff of fairytales, but something made Izzy give Sam a chance to make it a reality. I haven’t decided what the reason they weren’t sailing together. Izzy and Sam would have been on different ships under Hornigold’s command. Sam with his own ship and Izzy under Ed’s command. Maybe Izzy’s sense of loyalty to his captain was there (as instilled by Hornigold in all his men), but at the time, he wasn’t giving both of his hands to his job. One for the ship and one for his own interests. Maybe Ed was jealous and didn’t want to “share” Izzy with a someone else and he pressed the loyalty to the captain aspect? Maybe there was some other fuckery a la Ed afoot? Maybe Izzy, being torn between duty and love, said he’d go with Sam once Sam got the money needed for that retirement? That seems to conflict with the intensity of which Izzy holds loyalty though. Hmm.... In any case, after splitting off from Hornigold and some time passing, Sam ended up reported dead along with almost all of his crew in the sinking of the Whydah. (The timeline with Hornigold’s involvement and if he’s still alive even seems to be pretty loose at this point as far as OFMD canon goes in comparison to history. Therefore the timeline between Bellamy being elected captain of what once was Hornigold’s fleet, his independent ventures, and the sinking of the Whydah can be played with fast and loose.) Ever since then, Sam’s been working under another name to regain those funds, find Izzy, and give his love the retirement he promised. News of what happened to the Whydah and Sam eventually made its way to Ed and Izzy. Izzy never really processed the grief. Just bottled it up and dedicated his whole self to his captain. Both hands to the ship. (“The only retirement we get is... death”)

[industrialisland]

revised season 2 thoughts

Overall I thought it was fantastic.

The tone was different, yes, but the tone was always going to be different after Ed was heartbroken at the end of season 1. There was no way it was going to be the same show.

I loved that Stede honestly didn’t care about his lack of money or fancy things, he just wanted to get to Ed and take care of his found family. And it was completely in character for him to go overboard thinking he was a great pirate when everyone was pumping him up. Stede likes to be liked! He’s gone his whole life being tolerated at best, of course he’s going to embrace feeling powerful and celebrated! Of course he’s going to make Ned Low walk the plank with his crew cheering on, after he insults Ed. Of course he’s going to live it up after Ed tells him to enjoy himself.

But I don’t think Stede gave anything up to be with Ed at the end. He thought his life with Mary was monotonous because he didn’t love her. Being a pirate was a fantasy to get away from that life. Do I think they’ll be good innkeepers together? Hell no, they’re out of their element. But they are together, and now they have a chance to see what that means. A domestic life with Ed might be exactly what Stede never knew he wanted. Or maybe they’ll catch the next ship out of there looking for adventure. Maybe they’ll decide to travel!

And Ed is still working on himself. No he didn’t give great apologies for what he did. But the crew did very much kill him, like he was more or less dead. I think that evens it out for the people who were on the Revenge for the Great Kraken Tour 1717. He tried to make amends with Lucius. And his conversation with Fang shows that he really doesn’t consider what he’s done as something that needs to be apologized for- which would have been nice to see expanded on a little more, maybe apologize to the guys he deserted on the island at least, but I think there was just not enough time and we have to be content with having his apology to Fang as a stand in. Ed isn’t a healthy person. He’s been trying to find a new path for himself since season 1- being an aristocrat didn’t work, he didn’t fit in. Joining the navy didn’t work, Stede left him. Being a kinder, softer Ed didn’t work- Izzy threatened him. Even with Stede back, he’s floundering- he doesn’t want to be a pirate, and Stede does, so he runs away. Pop Pop told him to do whatever he might have been good at- and that’s being with Stede.

Is Ed a good person? Is Stede? None of them are! And that’s what makes them interesting. They love each other and they’re going to give domestic life a go.

Izzy’s death as symbolic for the death of Blackbeard was good. The death itself I still feel was not done the justice it could have been. A random gunshot from a hostage who should have been disarmed is a very disappointing way to go (and I still don’t understand what the plan was), and a thirty second funeral at the end of which Ed says “well, that’s that then” was a gut punch, even for those of us who didn’t like Izzy. But for all their conflict, Izzy and Ed loved each other in some way, and dying in Ed’s arms was right. Yes, I would have liked the crew to have been closer, but at the end of the day, he’s known Ed the longest, they’re family in a way that the crew wasn’t (yet). Their dynamic was fucked on both sides, but Izzy gave Ed closure and hopefully Ed gave Izzy some peace in return.

This death resonated hard with some people and I totally get that. Izzy had a beautiful arc this season and if you would have told me last year that I’d be sad about his death I would have laughed. It will be hard to have a show without him and I do hope that we see him next season in some way (no more flashbacks of things we already saw though please). The writers have their plans and I still trust them.

I still don’t feel like the background crew got their dues this season, and it is what it is. They rushed it, they didn’t have enough time, Max stuck their hands in, who knows. The last episode was chaotic. There were too many flashbacks. Things felt unfinished. But they are unfinished - we have another potential season to wrap things up. And there was no way this season was going to please everyone, even if it had all the episodes and budget it deserved. There was such a long time between seasons in which we all made these characters our own and I think a lot of people forgot that they aren’t going to be written the same way we saw them developing.

But we got some beautiful episodes, and some beautiful moments with Ed and Stede, and I look forward to where it goes next.

My biggest complaint is that I already wrote a fic of them retiring together after last season, I’ll have to find some way to do it again, lol.

[barclaysangel]

Jake in Mourning (Chucky season 2 rewrite fic, drabble 1/4)

Ok, I got too hyped to post these drabbles that have been hidden for various months, starting way back to September! I will be posting all 4 drabbles this weekend, one right now, one in a few hours, one on Saturday and the final on Sunday. I'd also prefer it if you read them in this order. PLEASE leave notes and comment what you think because comments help fuel our motivation since @streets-in-paradise and I worked on this AU together and one day, the fic will finally be written!

Thank you and enjoy! :)

Word count: 1.9K

It didn’t feel normal to walk into the house. 

It was cold and empty. Well, it always felt cold and empty in that house, despite the people that lived there. But now with Jake’s aunt, uncle, and cousin gone, the chills and emptiness were enough to freeze him alive and swallow him whole. 

Lexy and Devon already went to Junior’s house the day before, going into his room and taking some things to remember him by. Devon wanted Jake to come with them, but he couldn’t. It was something that he felt that he had to do on his own, without the comfort of the people who knew and cared about him. 

So for the first time since he tried to run away a few days ago, Jake went back to the house. The walk up the stairs, toward Junior’s room, felt like he was walking into the lion’s den. He never would’ve gone to his cousin’s room, not even if you paid him. But his cousin is gone now. His asshole cousin, who always looked like he was in pain if you stared at him hard enough, was dead. 

There was no one stopping him from going inside now. 

Jake turned the knob on the door and opened it. For the first time in about five years, he saw Junior’s room. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe posters, books, LED lights, something that would bring more life to the room. But there was nothing. Only boring gray walls that resembled a prison cell and trophies and medals on display from his cross-country tournaments. 

For a brief moment, Jake wondered if the room was that empty because of all the things Lexy and Devon took. But he talked with them earlier, they only took some of Junior’s favorite books and clothes. This…this was just how Junior’s room used to look like. Vacant and devoid of all life and happiness, a complete contrast to his own room. 

Somehow, that thought seemed to make his heart clench. 

Jake looked at the trophies and gold medals, noticing how they were untouched. No one wanted to take those home, he supposed. He didn’t want to either. He’d be lying if he said that he never noticed how Junior never looked happy to talk about the sport that his father threw him into years ago. 

Even as he looked closer, he noticed the dust that gathered on those trophies. Junior never bothered to touch them after placing them there on that shelf. 

Did his cousin even want to win? Or did he do it just to please his father? 

Something began prickling the back of Jake’s eyes the more he thought about it, so he forced himself to look away and go over to Junior’s dresser. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. Maybe some shirts, something that belonged to Junior. He was sure that the hoodies were all taken by Lexy, so he would take what he could get. 

Jake opened one drawer, spotting a few shirts that he never saw Junior wear, probably because they were hidden under all the hoodies he would wear constantly. Some were Marvel t-shirts but others had designs of skulls or full moons on them. It was a style he never expected his cousin to ever wear, let alone like, so he grabbed them and put them into the bag he brought with him. 

But when he reached further back into the drawer, his fingers met something soft. He paused before gripping onto it and slowly pulling it out, his eyes widening slightly. 

It was a light brown teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck, tied in a bow. Jake felt like he got slapped in the face with nostalgia, remembering how attached Junior was to the stuffed animal—Theo. His cousin got him when he was four and he’d be damned if he let anyone else play with it, even Jake wasn’t allowed to touch it. 

Except, the one time his cousin did let him hold it. 

“If I show you something, do you promise not to tell anyone?” When the cousins were both eight years old, that was a question that Junior asked him. 

They were in Junior’s bedroom, the room looking so much different compared to now. There was a sense of vibrancy and light, something that was completely lacking now. 

Jake was sitting on his cousin’s bed, desperately trying not to cry. He had just lost his mother in a car accident a few weeks ago and was still spiraling. Every day, he cried. He cried himself to sleep and then cried in the morning when he woke up, knowing that he’d have to go another day without seeing his mom for the rest of his life. 

Junior was in front of Jake, standing almost awkwardly after he asked his question. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater, a nervous habit of his that he developed not long ago. After a few moments, Jake nodded and swallowed down the urge to cry. “O-okay…” 

His cousin’s eyes hardened for a moment. “Do you promise?” 

“Yes,” Jake said quickly and nodded again, “I won’t tell anyone, I swear on Styx.” 

Junior had started reading the Percy Jackson books over a year ago and became addicted so quickly. He convinced Jake to read it, and it was safe to assume that they were both big fans now. And whenever they made a promise, they always swore on the River Styx, just like the demigods did. 

Well, maybe just Styx. Jake accidentally said ‘Styx’ instead of ‘The River Styx’ one time, and Junior thought it was hilarious and refused to let it go. Eventually, the phrase stuck. 

Junior stared at him for a moment before spinning on his heel and opening his drawer. He rummaged around before pulling out Theo the Teddy Bear, presenting it to his cousin. 

Jake gasped quietly. “Theo!” He exclaimed before quieting down when Junior shushed him. “But…I thought you said that Uncle Logan made you throw him away?” 

He remembered how Junior sadly told him that his father decided that he was too old to have stuffed animals just a few months ago. He had to throw them all in the garbage. Junior had a few, but Theo was his favorite, and he really didn’t want to throw him away too. 

“He did…” Junior admitted, “but when he left for work, I dug him back out of the trash. I couldn’t let him go like that, not yet. So I kept Theo, hidden in a place where my daddy won’t find him.” 

He held the teddy bear for a few more seconds, almost hugging Theo before holding it out to his cousin. “Here. He’ll help you feel better.” 

Jake tilted his head slightly in confusion. “Are-are you giving him to me?” 

“No.” Junior was quick to respond, his eyebrows scrunching together in one of his infamous scowls-a look he would be used to seeing for years to come. “But you can hold him. Just for today. I always feel better when I hold Theo, so…maybe he can help you feel better too, Jakie.” 

Jake stared at his cousin and then the teddy bear for a moment before finally taking him from Junior’s hands. Feeling the soft and fluffy fur between his fingers made tears well up in his eyes, and he clutched Theo to his chest as he began crying silently. 

Junior didn’t say anything but sat down on the floor in front of him, reaching out to place his hand over one of Jake’s. Sometimes, his cousin didn’t need to say anything to make him feel better. Just a small action, like letting him hold his favorite teddy bear, and his comforting silence with sympathetic eyes was more than enough. 

At that moment, Jake felt safe with his cousin. 

That was the last good moment between them before Junior slowly began to change. 

Jake held the teddy bear and this time, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He dropped to his knees as he began openly sobbing, hugging Theo to his chest as tightly as he could, as if there was a possibility that he could disappear just like his cousin did. 

He knew that their relationship was strained. He knew that Junior bullied him. He knew that his cousin killed his own father because of Chucky’s tricks. 

But did that mean he deserved to die? For all his faults, his sins…was he destined to die because of it? 

That was his cousin, his blood family. They used to be so close, like they were twins, growing up before Junior began pulling away and Uncle Logan put more pressure on him about performing well in cross-country. 

And then the what-if’s filled Jake’s mind. 

What if he told Junior right away about Chucky? Would he have believed Jake? 

Probably not. But he could’ve at least been warned, possibly preventing him from falling under Chucky’s influence. 

What if he, Lexy, and Devon were actually there for Junior after Aunt Bree died? 

Junior witnessed his mother die right in front of him. It broke him apart. And it pained Jake to admit that something in Junior died that day. He could see it in his eyes. His cousin lost someone he loved and it couldn’t take it…and he was all alone in his agony. 

Had they been there for him…would everything have turned out differently? 

Would Chucky not have been able to get to Junior because they wouldn’t have left him alone? Would Uncle Logan have lived? Would Junior Wheeler have survived? 

Jake didn’t know the answer, but the word “yes” was screaming in his head anyway. 

Had he done something differently, he wouldn’t be on the floor crying, all alone, without someone’s comforting gaze and supportive hand on his. The guilt was eating him alive and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Jake wasn’t sure how long he sat there, clutching the teddy bear like a lifeline, closing his eyes and pretending that it was his cousin. Eventually, he opened his eyes once the tears slowed to a stop, looking down at Theo the Teddy Bear. 

“I miss you, you asshole.” He said to the bear but knew deep down that it wasn’t directed to Theo. It was directed to Junior, buried six feet down below, in between both of his parents. 

Jake was the last Wheeler standing. His entire family was dead because of Chucky. But he knew that if he never bought that stupid doll, that they would still be alive today. 

Their blood was on his hands too. 

But it still didn’t feel right. Junior was gone now but to Jake, it felt like there was something missing. It just didn’t feel like Junior was dead, not like how it felt with the others. 

Maybe this was what it’s like to be in denial. 

It took another few minutes for him to pull himself together enough to stand up. He hugged the teddy bear one last time, sending a silent apology to his dead cousin along with the hug, before carefully placing Theo in the bag. Junior loved that bear, so Jake would take good care of it from now on. 

He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, walking away before pausing and looking back at the room that was filled with nothing but melancholy and angst. 

What he wouldn’t do to go back in time and do everything differently. Push Junior into opening up about why he changed, tell him the truth, be his support system when he was left isolated and all alone. 

He would give up everything just to have one last chance. 

Finally, Jake left the Junior’s bedroom and closed the door behind him.

[foolishle]

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH AHHHHH!!

I loved the first three episodes so much! For some reason I thought there would only be two??

First off… HOW DARE David Jenkins and Con O’Neill make me love Izzy?? I’m an absolute sucker for actors microexpressions and vocal work and Con BRINGS IT as usual. Don’t get me wrong, last season he was brilliant and I loved to hate him but the script and Con’s acting immediately made me actually care about him? Right from the get go (“yes, they all got cake…”) I was like… aw sweetie… You’re in over your head, aren’t you? Each time he was revealed to be NOT DEAD (if I had a dollar/weird that it etc) I was so relieved. He actually cares?? About the crew?? He blamed Stede for Pining!Ed but he knows that Kraken!Ed is because of Izzy, and that Stede makes Ed better.

Taika and Rhys brilliant as uzhe. The character building, again, good as!!

Stede is getting confident and competent, but still Stede. Not much else to say, somehow. Just as brilliant as I expected. Also the linen shirt? Daaaaaaaaang.

Ed… aahhh. Taika does every emotion so well. At the moment it’s mostly PAIN and I look forward to him breaking free of that. His ‘purgatory’ was especially brilliant. And his revelation of the fact that he hates himself. Beautiful.

LUCIUS!! I wasn’t surprised (was anyone??) to see Lucius return. We knew it had to happen! When they said “rat boy!”, I was bouncing on my seat with excitement. Cynical!Lucius is delightful.

Just… so many of the characters have been so deeply affected by the trauma of the last season (as were we all, let’s be real)… and it’s a credit to the crews (behind the scenes, and on it) that they each are so familiar and the same people they were… but evolved and changed and grown. They’re the same *people*, but not the same people.

Jim and Olu! I know there is some disappointment at their romantic separation along with their physical separation. But I love the contrast with Lucius and Pete who (so far) seem to be back together, or trying to be. That’s life, you know? Some people just don’t fit back together once they’ve been affected by different things. I don’t have a problem with them being paired up with other people. I hope that they can find their way back to friendship, even—especially-if the romance is gone.

I know there was confusion and disappointment that Ivan isn’t in this season. It wasn’t the actor’s choice not to return, but I think the change makes sense. No shade to Guz Khan, he was great. But the dynamic of the Kraken crew didn’t need him. We had Fang and Izzy from the old BB Crew, Jim and Frenchie from the Stede crew, and Archie as the newcomer… it really felt balanced. Loved the way they bonded with each other and I really look forward to the way the two different crews have been mixed up and seeing how they try and fit back in with Stede &co.

The new characters! Really nice to see some women on board. Archie is a nice addition, I hope we get some more of her, but at the same time we don’t *need* it. It’s enough that she’s there and she’s given some opportunities for exposition, disrupted the dynamic and made things feel a bit different.

ZHENG YI SAO. I love her. Guessing she’ll be the big bad of the season and she’s a worthy villain who will hopefully bring Ed and Stede back together.

I love that last season it took three episodes for Ed and Stede to fall in together… and by ep 5 we had romance blooming, by episode eight they were both actively interested and we had the kiss in episode 9. I hope we can have the same kind of pacing in season 2 (but I really hope they don’t break up again)… and we’re on track with that with it taking three episodes for them to fall back in together.

Also in case you missed them, like I did, there is a short post-credits scene after each episode so stick around through the credits!

I’m so excited for next week!!!

[reki-of-the-valley]

Summer Time (Family) Madness

Look, I'm very aware that I've been dead recently but I promise, it won't be forever. It's just a slow season year for me, y'know? But hey, after months of not working on this, I hope the rewrite of this chapter will be what does it for me and gets me back into writing!!

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AO3 | Original Chapter 1  | Original Chapter 2 | Original Chapter 3 | Original Chapter 4 | Original Chapter 5 | Original Chapter 6

“What are you doing?”

Langa blinked down at the girl. She looked comfortable, really comfortable. A little too comfortable even with the dark pink face mask that made her look a little bit like an alien and her soft-looking pink pajamas that stood out against Langa’s fading blue blanket. She looked as comfortable as if she were at home. Except she wasn’t. This wasn’t her home. This wasn’t her room. This wasn’t her bed. No, this was Langa’s bed, the very bed he had been getting ready for.

 “Just getting ready for bed.”

Emily grinned as she flipped to the side, somehow seeming to get even more comfortable. She nestled her phone next to her, perfectly settled there for her to easily scroll through her typical content: makeup tutorials, hair styling reels, dance videos, and the occasional pretty actor or fictional boy. She had made herself right at home, which could have been a good thing had it not been in Langa’s space.

“That’s my bed.” Langa said, his voice utterly devoid of amusement as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We set up the couch for you until we find you an air mattress or something.”

The phone fell over as the girl flopped onto her back, pulling a pillow into her chest and burying her nose into it. Her voice came out as a muffled whine, sounding more pathetic than ever.

“But the couch is uncomfy!” Pleading brown eyes peered over the pillow in an attempt to make Langa feel bad. “And Auntie Nanako said I can take your bed if you sleep out since you’re gone like half of the week. Probably off cuddling your boyfriend or something.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

The words escaped him before he could even imagine what a response of the sort could entail, and, given the smile on Emily’s face, it had entailed something. She was thinking of something, something that was clearly wrong, but it was something nonetheless. It was something that she was going to hold over his head for as long as she could, that was for sure.

“Whatever you say, but you’re still not denying that you cuddle with him, so…” Langa opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out, leaving Emily with an even wider grin as she shooed him away, the pillow now falling to the ground. “Go! Go sleep with him! Let me get a bit of beauty sleep!”

“I—” Heat spread across Langa’s cheeks, but he was not going to let it leave him tongue-tied. He was not going to let Emily win this battle – not that it was a battle to begin with. “I can’t just show up at his door and expect him to let me in! I don’t live there!”

Emily raised an eyebrow at Langa, an unimpressed look in her eyes. So they both knew that was a lie; Langa had never been the best liar, after all. They both knew that Reki would let him in, no matter the time. And in the worst-case scenario, Langa could just sneak through Reki’s window – which was never locked – but that sounded far too much like some teen drama cliché, and he was not about to become the leading role in Emily’s favorite show.

The girl flopped back down into the nest she had created for herself, repositioning the phone on her left. Her alien face was out of Langa’s sight, but still, she wasn’t gone. Blond locks engulfed the pillow that Langa knew to be perfect for him, leaving him even more annoyed than he had been when he had first walked into his room. But the voice, the squeak of smugness, was his true breaking point.

“Well, off you go!” Emily waved her hand without even bothering to look at Langa. “I have a big day tomorrow, so I would highly enjoy some good ol’ beauty sleep.”

Langa sighed, finally accepting his defeat. Maybe he could sleep on the couch tonight. Or he could tell his mother about his stolen bed. He could probably do something about the situation at hand, but still, Emily had a point. Maybe Reki’s place really was the best option. Or maybe it was just that going to Reki was always his solution and that was why he was mindlessly stuffing stray pieces of clothes into his bag. He was far too used to going to Reki that his body had memorized the routine.

“One of these days, I’m gonna kick you.”

The mutter was mostly for him, but he knew that Emily had heard him. He knew from the fact that she was grinning on her – no, his – pillow, from the fact that her eyes quickly flickered between his face and her phone, from the fact that she was talking, her tone light and mocking.

“Can’t wait to see that day come.” Her snickering was muffled into the pillow, her brown eyes glowing with a burning undercut insult. “Because we both know that it’ll never happen, you klutz. You’ll break your leg trying.”

Langa didn’t bother answering the girl; flipping her off would only fuel her bratty little attitude and would give her a reason to make a scene. The last thing he needed was another excuse for her to come at him. So he simply huffed as he threw his bag over his shoulder and walked out of his room, phone in hand. It was almost unconscious, his fingers gliding over Reki’s name and sending him a text without context.

Finally got kicked out of my own home

Can I crash at yours tonight?

It seemed that Reki was on his phone rather than doing the homework he had promised to do. The answers came back far too quickly, and even if he had claimed he was “just taking a quick break,” Langa knew that was a lie. Not Reki nor Langa acknowledge the homework that would eventually have to be done. Instead, concerned texts buzzed in Langa’s hand, little bubbles appearing and disappearing faster than the best S skater around each corner of the track. And with each text, Langa had to bite his lip, trying his best to keep the laughter locked away. He couldn’t wake his mother up, especially not via the sound of his shoes hitting the floor for the fifth time in an attempt to tie them. Damned bunny ear laces were finally failing him after nearly 15 years of doing it on the daily. Or maybe it was his brain that was failing him, too busy pounding with Reki Reki Reki

What do you mean kicked out?????

Langa???

What happened??

Did your mom find out about S??????

Is she kicking you out because of S???

Because of skateboarding???

Because of all the sneaking out????

Are you being kicked out beCAUSE OF ME?????

LANGAAAAAAAAAA ANSWER MEEEEEE

LANGAAAAAA

LANGAAAAAAAA

Skateboard in one hand, phone in the other, Reki’s words were the only thing that lit up the night and Langa’s smile. A stifled laughter echoed in the streets as Langa hit send and pocketed the phone. Wheels scrapped against the pavement as he pushed forward, thinking of the possible faces Reki might have been making, staring at his phone.

So can I crash at yours?

-----

When Langa had asked if he could crash at Reki’s, he hadn’t meant it literally. But seeing Reki’s face light up as he approached the window, seeing his eyes sparkle under the soft light of his lamp, seeing his whole face light up as soon as he came into view, Langa forgot everything he had practiced in the last year. He had forgotten that his board wouldn’t magically stop when he came close to colliding with something. He forgot that he was the one that had to control his movement. He forgot that the wheels under his feet weren’t fixed to the ground.  Hell, he had even forgotten how to breathe for a moment! But only for a moment, because by the next, he was slipping off his board, the death trap flying across the room and crashing into the wall while his forehead collided with the top of Reki’s window.

Everything had gone hazy from that point on. Langa could hear Reki’s mother shouting from another room, somewhere in the distance, but what she had said, he couldn’t tell. And Reki. He had been right there, right next to Langa, but then he was far, peaking his head out of the door and whisper-shouting an apology. Something about falling off his bed? Langa couldn’t tell what that was about.

“Dude, Langa!” His voice was distant, but his eyes were right there, big with a wild panic. He was right there, but he also seemed so far away which was unfortunate. Langa liked having the boy right next to him. He liked him too much to let him fade out. “Dude, what the hell? Why didn’t you stop?”

Langa grunted, a throbbing pain shooting through his head. Why hadn’t he stopped? That was a good question and Langa didn’t have an answer for it. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t stopped. He was always so good at stopping; it’s how he had made it this far without badly fucking up. But all this thinking, all this searching for an answer, it made his head hurt. Thinking hurt, and Langa just didn’t like doing it.

“Dude,” Reki’s hand was warm against Langa’s cheek. It was so warm and comforting. “Why didn’t you stop?”

Oh, right. “S’cause I like you.”

-----

Langa blinked a few times. It was suddenly a lot darker than he remembered. Sure, it wasn’t early when he had left his place, his mother and the near-entirety of the Kyan family were already fast asleep, but it wasn’t this late. Had he fallen asleep? When had that happened? He remembered getting to Reki’s house, but the rest of the night? Nothing. Blank. Nothing but Reki. Reki…

Instinctively, Langa touched his eyebrow, right where a hot pain had started to form again. The feeling of a bandage under his fingertips had become a familiar one over the last couple of months, but he didn’t remember having one on his face. At least, not recently. He hadn’t had any bad falls in months. The most he would get would be little scraps and cuts on his hands and knees which Reki always insisted on patching up for him. Reki had always fussed over him, Reki who had his arm over him, squirming under his sheets. Next to Langa. Bed. Shit.

The boy sat up, rubbing his eyes. His figure was barely distinguishable against the darkness, but Langa had memorized him. He memorized the way his bed hair was always a mess, strands sticking out uncontrollably. He had memorized how Reki always rubbed the sleep out of his right eye. He had memorized everything that was Reki.

“You okay there, dude?”

Reki’s weight was comfortable against Langa’s shoulder. He was warm and soft, almost melting into the boy. And the proximity, it left Langa with an irregular heartbeat, a pounding that echoed in his ears. Could Reki hear it? Could he feel it? There was no way of knowing since there was no way that Langa was going to ask him.

“Yeah, great.”

Langa cringed at the pitchiness of his whisper. Shame coated his squeak, a sound he had never heard come out of his mouth. A sound he had wished had never left his body. Ever.

“You busted your eyebrow.” Reki tentatively covered the yawn that escaped him before moving closer to Langa, if that were even possible. His calloused fingers brushed against Langa’s forehead, sending shivers down his spine. “Blood ‘nd all, then bam! Passed out cold. Patched you up, don’t worry ‘bout it. Even kissed it better!”

Fucked didn’t even begin to describe Langa’s state. From start to finish, he was fucked. Not only had he somehow managed to forget everything Reki had taught him about skating and his special awareness in general, resulting in a split eyebrow thanks to the window, but he had also somehow missed his chance at being conscious as Reki planted a kiss to his wound. That is if Reki actually did do as he said. But knowing Reki and how much he believed in the magic of “kissing it better,” he most probably did kiss his eyebrow, whispering to the wound to heal quickly. And Langa missed it. Langa missed it because of his stupid phobia of his own blood. Just the smell of it was enough to get him to black out, which was what probably happened. Just the idea of his own blood left him feeling dizzy, but not for long. With Reki’s hands on his shoulders, it wasn’t hard to snap back to reality.

“Whoa, dude! Stay with me.” Pretty sounds bubbled out of Reki as he flopped back down onto his mattress. “It was a pain in the ass to haul you up on the bed, and I’m not down to do it all over again. You know,” Langa watches as Reki settled against his pillow, probably trying to find a comfortable position, “you’re a lot heavier than you seem. All skinny and boney but still heavy as hell.”

“I’m,” Langa gulped,” trying his best to extinguish the wildfire that started to spread across his face and ears. A silent prayer left his parted lips, a hope that the darkness would conceal his shameful blush. “I’m not that heavy. And…” And what? What could he possibly say to Reki? What could he say that wouldn’t sound too stupid? “You could’ve left me on the floor or something. Not like I would’ve noticed. I was out cold anyway.”

Reki shifted under the sheets, turning to face Langa as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Nah, I couldn’t just leave you on the floor. You would’ve woken up with a sore neck or something and then you would’ve whined about it all day tomorrow. But it’s late, dude.” He was pretty as he snuggled his pillow, getting ready for bed once more. “C’mere.” His arms opened, as if he were beckoning Langa closer. “Bed’s not big enough for the two of us.”

Reki had to know what he was doing to Langa. He had to be aware of the tightness he was causing in Langa’s chest. And the racing of his heart. He had to know that he was killing him from within with his stupid little grabby hands and his attempts to pull Langa into his arms. He had to be conscious of it all. There was no way he was that oblivious.

Reluctantly – or at least, that was what Langa was trying to go for – Langa settled against the pillows, letting Reki wrap his arms around his shoulders. The scent of Reki filled the air surrounding Langa, sweet orange and a dash of sweat. Reki filled every corner of Langa’s mind as he let himself melt under the other boy’s touch, snuggling closer to his chest.

This is how I die. Or I’m finally going to wake up and this is all just a dream.

Reki shifted against him, somehow cuddling even closer. Langa didn’t know what was more unbearable: being pressed against his best friend’s chest or dreaming of being pressed against Reki, breathing him in, letting him fill Langa’s lungs.

“Oh,” Langa could feel the ride and fall of Reki’s chest as she spoke, more cuddling as he got comfortable. “You said something in English, which, by the way, was really rude! I actually understood you, dude! For once! And I know we’ve said we’re basically the same, but I’ll have you know that I would never crash my head against your window frame! I am the one who taught you how to skate, after all! I’m not useless on a board! But I still don’t get why you didn’t stop.”

Basically the same… what had Langa-?

“Fuck.”

[mikaela-granger]

The Long Wait (Season 6) Chapter 2

Karma’s A Bitch

Fandom: Grimm

Pairing: Sean Renard/OFC

The Long Wait Masterlist

A/N:  Sean continues preparing for his transition to Mayor only to find out others have different plans for him.

***Sean’s POV***

The sun had finally risen, and Sean was still at the precinct, running on very little sleep. When he had received the call that Bonaparte had been found dead, Sean couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten about that. Sean played his part, pretending to have no knowledge, asking how he died. Whoever had found him seemed to believe he had died of natural causes. He gave the caller permission to call for assistance. The body was picked up very quickly, thankfully before any of the children saw it.  Following that, Sean had a nerve-wracking call to advise those higher up that Bonaparte was dead, of apparently natural causes. There was, of course, disbelief about that being true. Surely the great Conrad Bonaparte didn’t meet his demise via natural causes. No doubt someone would be on their way to Portland soon to verify.

As luck would have it, the surveillance system at the North Precinct had gone down around the time Nick had been picked up. Meaning, there was no footage of the person or persons responsible for the massacre. There was also surprisingly little evidence that would aid in catching whoever was responsible. Still, knowing that people would turn to him for answers, Sean continued to act as if he were vested in the investigation. His only interest was in finding someone to shift the blame on to.

There was still no sign of his brother-in-law. No doubt he’d gone into hiding. Sean wasn’t sure how he could get the message to him that he wasn’t trying to kill him or arrest him. Hank and Wu were here, but there was no way in hell they would believe him. Neither would any of the others. Sean wasn’t even certain his wife would believe him at this point. Not that he could blame her. And it wasn’t as if he wanted to admit what had occurred the night before.

Sean was in his office when he received an unexpected visitor. “Jeremiah. Well, this is a surprise.”

The man was looking at him, a serious expression on his face. “We need to talk.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, of course, come on in.” Sean told him. “Something about the campaign?”

Jeremiah had stepped further into his office by that point, turning to face Sean. “No, I don’t want to talk about the campaign.” He said his tone frustrated. “Shut the door.”

Sean wondered what this could possibly be about. “Alright.” Sean said as he moved to close the door. “What’s the problem?”

“Rachel Wood.”

Sean paused. Ah yes, the woman his daughter had killed. By this point Sean knew Rachel’s body had been found. Hank and Wu were working on the case. “Yes. Rachel’s death is a great loss. I assure you; it is being investigated.”

Jeremiah scoffed. “Your officers are investigating? That’s like a fox guarding the henhouse.”

Sean frowned. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You were having an affair with her. And then you killed her to cover it up.”

Sean shook his head. “I was not having an affair with Rachel.” Sean insisted. “We worked together. Nothing more.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “That’s not what Rachel insinuated.”

Sean sighed pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am aware of Rachel’s attraction to me; however, I assure you it was one sided.”

“If you weren’t sleeping with her, then why were you at her house so late last night?” Jeremiah asked. Sean froze. It certainly wouldn’t be a good look, having someone witness him at Rachel’s house the night of her murder. “I saw you go into her house. When I went in after you left, she was dead. I found her body.”

“Look, I didn’t kill Rachel.”

Sean’s denial seemed to fuel Jeremiah’s anger. “I loved her. And you killed her.” Jeremiah let out an angry laugh. “And now your precinct is the one investigating her murder.”

Sean couldn’t help but feel a little pity for the man. However, he was aware that his accusations, if made public, may not end well for Sean. “What do you want?”

“Justice.”

“And you will get that, once my officers track down the real killer.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “You are unbelievable. Still denying it.”

The man was starting to annoy him. “And how do you expect to get justice if you don’t trust the system?”

Jeremiah straightened up, his expression changing. “Why don’t you think about how much it’ll cost to keep my mouth shut? You got 24 hours before this city knows what a great family man you are. And, out of respect for Lorelei, because she is a good woman, I’ll tell her before I tell the media.”

Sean clenched his jaw, any pity he had for the man disappearing at the mention of his wife. Despite Sean knowing that none of Jeremiah’s accusations were true, he didn’t want his wife to experience anymore distress than she already was. Sean glared at the man as he left his office. He needed to do something about him before he started flapping his gums.

Less than an hour later, Sean was speaking with a prospective candidate who would be taking over his position as Captain. “As you know, the new Captain of this precinct will be reporting directly to the mayor’s office.” Sean explained to Lieutenant Grossante.

“I understand.” Grossante said. “It would be an honour to succeed you, sir.”

“Yes, I know. Before I announce my decision, you’re gonna have to prove your loyalty.” Sean told him, quickly glancing out the windows before leaning forward, his voice dropping. “And not just to the mayor’s office…but to me.”

A smirk crossed Grossante’s face as he also leaned forward. “I’m ready anytime…sir.”

“What are you doing here?”

Sean was standing at the door of Jeremiah Rogers apartment. He wanted to deal with this as quickly as possible. “I have what you asked for.” Sean said, holding the briefcase up, allowing Jeremiah to see it through the peephole of his door.

“How much?”

Sean sighed. “If you want it, open the door.”

A moment later the door was opened, revealing Jeremiah with a gun in hand. Sean stepped inside. “I guess you don’t trust me.” He commented as Jeremiah closed the door behind him.

Jeremiah moved to stand opposite Sean, gun directed towards him. “Show me the money.”

Sean opened the briefcase and turned it around, allowing Jeremiah to look at it. His eyes widened slightly before his gaze returned to Sean. “Now, how do I know you’ll stop threatening me.”

“You killed the woman I love. You don’t deserve an answer to that question.”

“I did not kill Rachel.” Sean said, trying to keep calm.

Jeremiah scoffed. “If you’re innocent, then wouldn’t have paid.”

“Oh, I’m not paying.” Sean said, slamming the briefcase closed. “You are.”

Jeremiah frowned as Sean’s gaze lingered at something behind him. Jeremiah barely had a chance to look behind him before Grossante grabbed the man, slicing his throat from behind. Jeremiah breaths turned to gurgles as he fell to his knees, his gaze still on Sean. For a moment, Sean was taken back to Meisner’s death, and the action Sean had taken to hasten it. Sean was brought back as Jeremiah’s body hit the floor with a thud.

Grossante woged back as his gaze fell on Sean. “Sorry about the blood sir.” He said, referring to the streak of blood that had hit Sean’s shirt.

Sean smirked at him. “It’ll wash out.” Grossante returned the smirk. “Congratulations on your promotion…Captain.” Briefcase of money in hand, Sean headed for the door. “And when you’re done cleaning up, come meet me back at the precinct.”

Grossante nodded. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

Sean returned to the mansion to change his shirt. As he entered the bedroom, he found Adalind and Lorelei talking. His wife was laying down, a heat pillow resting on her forehead while Adalind was sitting beside her. Both women looked surprised to see him. “Why are you home?” Adalind asked.

“I need a shirt.” Sean told her as he removed his jacket. “Are you alright, mon amour?”

“Yeah. Just a bit of a headache.” Lorelei replied. “The heat pillow is helping though.”

Adalind frowned as she looked closely at his shirt. “Is that blood?”

“It’s not important.” He told her.

Lorelei sat up, removing the heat pillow. “Are you hurt?” She asked concerned.

“No.” He assured her. Accepting his answer, Lorelei laid back down, returning the heat pillow to its position.

Adalind looked suspicious. “What happened?”

“Well, someone thought I killed Rachel.” He answered as he unbuttoned the bloody shirt. “Thought it’d be worth a lot of money not to say anything.”

“So, that’s not your blood.” Adalind slowly asked.

Sean scoffed. “Blackmail is risky business.” Sean answered as he headed towards the closet.

“You know. I think I see some blood in your hair.” Adalind told him

Sean frowned. “Where?” He asked, lightly patting his head.

“Maybe you should take a shower.” Adalind suggested “You don’t want the girls to see blood in your hair…or anyone else either.”

Sean sighed. He needed to get back to precinct, but she was right. It wouldn’t be a good look if anyone were to see blood on his person. Dropping the bloodied shirt on the chair, he changed direction and headed to the bathroom. After washing himself thoroughly, just to make sure there was no blood left behind, he stared getting ready to go out again.

“Now that you’re here, why don’t you just stay home?” Adalind suggested as he combing his hair.

“I gotta get back to the office.”

“Why? We can make dinner.”

Sean shook his head as he finished up in the bathroom. “Can’t.” Sean told her.

Adalind sighed, glancing at Lorelei. It looked as if his beloved had fallen asleep. Good, she needed it. “Come on Sean. You’ve barely been home. You should spend some time with your family.”

Sean didn’t need that reminder or the guilt trip. He was aware he hadn’t been able to spend as much time with his family lately. But once he took office, he would be able to do that. “I understand.” Sean told her as he grabbed another jacket from the closet. “Just not tonight.”

 “Well, there are things we need to talk about.”

“Like what?” Sean asked, pulling the jacket on as he started making his way towards the door.

“Well, Diana for one.” Adalind said walking beside him.

Sean looked at her. “Diana? Why, did she kill somebody else?”

Adalind looked frustrated. “No, Sean. She hasn’t killed anybody else, but she has other issues.”

Sean was getting frustrated himself. The mother of his eldest was so much more needy than his wife. Lorelei understood his job meant he couldn’t be as involved in the parenting decisions as they’d both like. If there was something that needed to be discussed and he had to leave, she typically waited until later on when he could devote time and attention the issue. “Can we just talk about this later?” Sean asked continuing his journey to the door.

“You want to put off talking about your own daughter? I mean, what kind of father are you?” Adalind hissed angrily, glancing at Lorelei to make sure she didn’t wake her.

Sean sighed in frustration. “Ok, all right, what?” He asked stopping and turning to face the blonde.

He must have surprised Adalind, as she appeared lost for words for a moment. “Well, her education, for one.”

Sean stared at her, inwardly rolling his eyes. “Her education?” He asked, waiting for Adalind to elaborate. “What about it? I mean, she’s getting an education from you and Lorelei.”

“I’m working again. And in a few weeks, Lorelei is gonna have four children demanding her attention. It’s not fair to put Diana’s education solely on her.”

Sean sighed. That was true. Even with the addition of nanny’s, it was going to be hard on his wife. “I mean, maybe it’s time we send Diana to school.”

“Ok. But where?”

“I don’t know. Just pick a place. Whatever you and Lorelei decide, is fine by me.”

Adalind glared at him. “Ok. One, just because Diana has two mom’s, doesn’t mean you get to flake out on parenting decisions. And two, this is Diana. It’s not going to be that easy to ‘pick a place’.” Adalind said. “What if she gets into a fight with a kid on a playground, or what if one of her teachers give her a time-out? I mean, that might be a forever time-out for the teacher.”

“Well, we’ll just have to explain to her that there are certain boundaries, all right? We’ll work it out.” Sean said before trying to move past her to get to the door.

Adalind moved to stand in front of him again. “No, I mean, she – she can’t go to a public school. She can’t go to a private school. We certainly can’t homeschool her any longer.”

Sean sighed in frustration. “Can we deal with this later?” He asked her. This really was a conversation that they could have at a later time. When Lorelei was awake and could chime in. She probably had some ideas now that they had started integrating Diana into the world.

“But, if she doesn’t go to school, she won’t have any friends.” Adalind said looking panicked. “I mean, she’ll have no sleepovers, no playdates. She’ll have zero social skills. How are we going to deal with it?”

“Ok, all right, I get it. Ok.” Sean told her. He glanced at his watch before looking back at Adalind. “I guess I can be a little late. What’s on your mind?”

Adalind looked surprised that he had agreed to discuss this now. “Uh, well, a lot of stuff.

Sean sighed; Adalind had been prattling on for the better part of fifteen minutes. “Alright, look, maybe I haven’t given Diana’s education a lot of thought.” He admitted. “But considering everything that’s been going on recently? I mean, look, her education is just as important to me as it is to you and Lorelei.” He said as he stood up from the armchair, he had seated himself in. “But right now, I have to go.”

As he headed towards the door, Adalind ran around the front of him. “You don’t know how happy that makes me to hear you say that.” She said, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Sean was surprised at the sudden show of affection, especially coming from Adalind.

Sean gently untangled himself. “Adalind, please, I have to go.”

“I know you have to go.” She said loudly. “And that is why it is so amazing that you stayed here to talk about our daughter. You are an amazing father.”

Sean nodded, inwardly rolling his eyes at her antics. “Ok, yeah, I just –.” Sean trailed off as he heard his own voice coming from the TV. He turned to look at it.

“Citizens of Portland. It is with great sadness that I stand before you tonight. Now, I wish to say that I am profoundly grateful to the people of this wonderful city…”

“What the hell.” Sean hissed as he grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. It may have looked like him on the screen but that was not him.

“For electing me as their mayor. But it has become apparent that the recent attack on the North Precinct will require my full attention. And I am therefore, abdicating the mayorship.”

Sean felt white hot rage at those words. “What!” He shouted.

“I cannot, in good conscience, leave the police department at its time of greatest need.”

“When did you record this?” Adalind asked.

“I didn’t record this!” Sean angrily said. “It’s live!”

“The recent manhunt for Detective Nick Burkhardt was actually an undercover investigation staged to bring the real killer to justice.” Sean glared at the screen. There was never a manhunt for Nick. But at least he knew who was responsible for this. And there would be hell to pay. “And now, since this is an ongoing investigation, I cannot further comment but I would like to thank Detective Burkhardt for his exemplary work and congratulate him on a job well done.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Sean yelled, throwing the remote on the ground so hard it broke. “No!” Sean spun around to look at Adalind who was cowering against the wall, slowly sliding herself along it. No doubt heading towards his wife to use her as a human shield. “If I find out that you had anything to do with this…”

“What the hell is going on?”

Sean’s head wiped around the source of the voice. Lorelei was sitting up on the bed woken by his yelling. “Ask your friend.” Sean said in a low voice. He glared at Adalind one last time before leaving. He may not be working with Black Claw anymore, but he’d had every intention of retaining the mayorship. He needed to try and fix this mess.

A/N: It took me longer than expected to write that last portion. I keep laughing at Nick singing himself praises as Renard.

Next Part

Taglist: @zoexme, @nu1freakshow, @star-yawnznn, @bella250

Banner by @cafekitsune

[mortytheestallion]

tasting glass

Part 2   Part 3

Rating: 18+ (No minors); explicit 

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, angst, implied age gap, unprotected sex, daddy kink

A/N: Hello I’m back from the dead, I know I’ve been lacking on both fandoms but my hyperfixations have died. In honor of season 5 here’s a new little mini-series I’m challenging myself to this summer! This takes place in between episodes 2 and 3!

The summer heat was humid and sticky as Rick finished his latest project. The sweltering seemed to permeate the garage just the same with the door opened or closed, and with Beth and Jerry’s latest fight reaching its peak, he decided hiding away was his best bet. 

Rick and the heat did not get along well, something that translated to the rest of the family, it felt as though he was fending off Summer and Morty with a stick. Their boredom was not his problem though, he had much better things to do. The thought of slipping away had plagued his mind for the last few hours, but the fever of the summer seemed to make his mind feel like syrup. 

“What I wouldn’t fucking give for a pool right now?” Rick murmured to himself, his brow furrowing at the reminder of his own sticky misery. The sky bathed the house in a silky red with the sun slipping down under the horizon. He took another sip from his flask, turning to lean on the workbench. 

He heaved a deep sigh as his phone caught the corner of his eye, you were ignoring him, and in true Rick fashion he had taken that in stride. His eyes narrowed unconsciously as he thought about it, his empty hand tightening into a fist. He didn’t fucking need you.

 He didn’t need anybody.

Beth’s shrill voice cut through the air followed by some thuds and an “Ow!” from Jerry. That earned an eye roll from Rick and while he wouldn’t mind going in there and tearing them a new one, it was too much work. Morty was breathing down his neck about letting them be, that they were happy. He had scoffed when Morty said that, it was bullshit and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted another divorce in the next 6 months. 

Nonetheless, he was stuck in this stuffy house with his family’s bullshit to avoid your bullshit and he was starting to feel suffocated. Why did he give a shit if you were mad, fuck if you wanted to play that game so would he. Maybe it was the liquor he had just downed but it really didn't take much to get Rick riled up. And you knew that. 

He could feel the anger blooming in his chest, he wasn’t some fucking teenager in a petty fight with some dumb, little girlfriend. Suddenly he was hot with anger and before he knew it, a portal was in the center of the floor and he was walking through. Damned be his new fibermesh epidermis defense, and fuck his family, always asking him for shit. 

One foot through he stopped and thought of you briefly softening, he had been pretty rough on you lately. You called, he declined. You showed up, he went out the nearest portal. He had really only been around lately to take care of his own needs.

A particularly loud curse from inside the house brought him right back to his original train of thought, he was the smartest man in the universe, he didn’t need to take crap from you. You should be thanking him for his presence in your life. 

“You have some fucking nerve.” 

You shrieked as Rick pulled back the shower curtain. A cold shower was one of the better ways to fend off the heat with the air conditioner broken, especially since Rick had moaned, groaned, and wormed his way out of fixing it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed as he climbed in fully clothed, his brow in a prominent V-shape, lids half mast. It would have been comical in any other situation, his lanky body struggling to fit in your small shower, an almost bored expression on his face as the water drenched his clothes. 

“Me?” Rick scoffed, and narrowed his eyes at you. He began to lose his composure a bit, having your wet naked body in front of him. 

“Yes, you. You can’t just barge in here unannounced anymore Rick. I’m not some toy you can pick up when you’re bored and throw it away when you’re not.”

He feigned a hurt look, shrugged the now soaked coat from his shoulders. “I have enough toys, sweetheart, if you were one you’d know.”

That earned a huff from you, it had been a long day and the last thing you needed was Rick’s bullshit. Turning back to face the water, you rinsed the rest of the soap off of you, jumping slightly as his arms snaked their way around your waist. 

“C’mon,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder, you could feel the hard press of cold denim against your ass as he ground into you, “you know you can’t refuse my huge dynamite penis.” 

That earned a snort from you, the hard shell of anger cracking slightly. “You’re not off that easy, Rick. You’ve been a huge asshole lately, even more than usual.” 

His hands came up to massage your breasts, the feeling amplified by the cold water. You let out a low moan as he latched his mouth to the sweet spot on your neck while one hand tweaked your nipple, and the other snuck its way down to stroke your fluttering core. 

“S-shit baby you can’t still —is this all for me?” You could feel his wolfish grin against the back of your neck, and in return you arched your back more to grind against his erection. His long fingers trace through your folds as he removes his other hand to undo his belt, you feel the tight heat in your lower belly as you gush around his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Rick murmurs, stopping his motions momentarily to land a hard smack on your ass. You bite back a whine, wanting to maintain some semblance of composure, despite him being knuckle-deep in you. His fingers suddenly press against something deep and spongy within you, your knees buckle as you lurch forward, the unexpected waves of pleasure shivers down your body. Rick lets out another curse, his arm darting out to grip your waist, surely you would���ve fallen face-first into the wall had he not been holding you up.

He inhales sharply as you clench around his fingers, whispering good girl into your neck as you ride it out. He eases out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs, the feeling coupled with the uncomfortable chill of the water makes you shudder. 

“You’re a dirty little slut,” you tense again as he aligns himself to your entrance, still a little sensitive from your release, “beg me baby, I-I want to hear you.”

You mewl as he pushes into you, the stretch rides the line of pleasure and pain, Rick barely gives you enough time to get used to it before he bucks his hips and grips your jaw as a warning, “Beg.”

“Please, Rick, I want — I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes out whiny making you wince a bit, but it seems to please Rick as he sets a deep pace, biting into your neck hard enough it's sure to leave a mark.

You can’t help but arch your back even further, this seems to please him as he releases his bite on your neck, “Someone’s eager, y-you can’t seem to get enough of my dick can you?” You moan in response, snaking a hand down to rub the tender bundle of nerves. 

You clench at the contact, leading Rick to fasten his pace, his hand moving to tighten around your neck. 

“You’re my — you’re daddy’s good girl aren’t you? Can’t get enough of m-my monster cock, you wanna come don’t you? Don’t fucking dare, not until I say so.”

All you can manage is incoherent moans with the occasional Rick! thrown in, you’re too cockdumb to be embarrassed or angry anymore. Rick has his way of getting out of trouble, especially with you. 

His brutal pace coupled with your own fingers becomes too much for you as you near your second orgasm, Rick seemed to egg you on as his own fingers replaced yours, you could feel your stomach tightening as your release began to stir in the peak of your stomach. 

“Come on my dick, baby, let the neighbors hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure washes over you in waves, your pussy clenching hard around his dick, he thrusts with wild abandon chasing his own release. You can feel him rut against your sensitive walls, riding your post-orgasmic haze. He spills inside you a few moments later letting out a string of expletives in true Rick fashion. You feel yourself stir again slightly as you feel him fill you up, but Rick extracts himself from you gracelessly. 

Coming back to your senses you rinse the mixture of juices off your legs, much to Rick’s distaste, and turn off the water. You shiver from being drenched for so long, side-eyeing Rick as he avoids your gaze. 

“You’re dripping on my floor,” you murmur, he stands there uncomfortably, it's not lost on you that his portal gun has returned to his hand.

“Well, I-I should go.”

“Typical.”

Rick can feel the anger simmer low in his belly at your dig, “What do you mean typical?”

“Well let’s see Rick, you show up angry and unannounced, seduce me in my show—” “I didn’t seduce you! And —and frankly, I resent the accusation!” “And now you’re leaving with no explanation. This isn’t sustainable long term, Rick.”

“And what makes you think I want to be here long term,” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, a hurt look flashes across your face before it's replaced with anger. 

“Come on, baby, I-I didn’t mean it.” 

He reaches out for you and you jerk backwards, “Your family may have taken you back, but I’m not this time Rick.” 

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “Just go, it’s what you’re best at.”

Rage blinds him as he shoots a portal to the floor, “Don’t — I’m not coming back this time.”

“I know you're not.” And with that he’s gone.

[thisismysecondrodeo]

I'm reading every solo dad! fic i can find (like, ted and henry move over the pond together): would love to read your take on what happens when the boys are on an away game and you're home with the little lasso but then you wake up from a nightmare? i feel like the kid being like his father would make you fall even harder for your little family

AN: OMG this is such a sweet prompt, I’m an absolute sucker for Henry stories!  

Rating: General

Tags: Henry Lasso, Established Relationship, Stepmom!Reader, SoloDad!Ted, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Part 2 | Fic masterlist

You hadn’t expected to get addicted to the feeling of Ted Lasso sleeping next to you. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected to fall for the silly American at all, but now here you were deeply in love, married for two years, and suffering withdrawals any time he had to be elsewhere for even just a single night. 

It was silly, the way you woke up in the night with your heart racing, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, vague, shifty nightmares still tugging at the back of your mind, so you never told Ted about it. It wasn’t like he could do much, you certainly wouldn’t ask him to change his schedule and leave the team or invite yourself along on away matches (though sometimes he invited you himself, and you gladly took him up on it). You found other ways to cope: a girls night with Rebecca and Keeley if they weren’t at the match themselves, staying up all hours so you had no choice but to sleep like the dead, or pulling up YouTube videos of Ted’s interviews to watch when you’d woken up reaching for his empty space. 

It all worked well enough, and you hardly thought about the nightmares, even with Henry coming to live with you and Ted full-time, while Michelle went back to school. The Lasso boys were thrilled, and you’d gotten to spend some time with Henry over the past few years you and Ted had been together, so you were just as enthusiastic to have the sweet boy around. You knew Ted and Henry were a package deal, but Ted never made you feel like there was some stepmom test you needed to pass. Henry arrived over the summer to give him time to settle in before he had to figure out the British school system, which gave you and Ted plenty of time before football season to take him sightseeing and settle into a bit of a family rhythm. You made an off hand comment to Rebecca and Keeley one girls’ night about getting back to the boys, and they had teased you mercilessly, but hugged you tightly as you left. “Domesticity looks good on you,” Keeley had said to you with a sweet, sincere tone. 

So of course you were lulled into a false sense of security and when football season snuck up on you, you were wholly unprepared for Ted’s first away match. The night before the match you moved busily around the bedroom, oblivious to Ted’s watchful gaze. 

“Everything alright sweetheart,” he finally asked when you hovered close enough, wiping nonexistent dust from his nightstand. 

“Great, why?”

“You just seem a little,” Ted trailed off and you had already moved on to unfolding and refolding the clothes he was taking with him to Liverpool. “Unsettled. Here, come here.” Ted stood and led you back to the bed making you settle under the covers against his side. The warm lamp light made his eyes glow with concern and you sighed. 

“If it's about staying with Henry, we can figure something out. I can ask his friend’s parents for a sleepover or…”

“Oh, Ted no, you know I love spending time with Henry. I’m not worried about him at all.” 

“Well clearly somethin’s got ya more knotted up than an Auntie Anne’s pretzel. Do they have those here? Whoo, boy no trip to the mall is complete withou—” 

You laughed, cutting him off mid sentence, “I’m okay Ted. I promise. Thank you though. I think I’ve just gotten so used to having both my boys around I don’t know what to do myself with you gone.” 

Ted smiled, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and by that time I’m sure you and Henry will have already formed an alliance against me.” 

“There have been discussions of unionizing for the right to order pizza once a week.” 

Ted laughed as he clicked off the lamp, sliding down the bed to hold you tightly in his arms, “Well we’ll just have to see about that.”

-

You were sipping coffee in the kitchen as the Lasso boys trooped down the stairs, Ted’s overnight bag slung over his shoulder. You gave them both hugs goodbye, told Henry you’d pick him up after school and let Ted reassure you that he’d be back as soon as he could tomorrow. 

“6 am if I can swing it,” he called out as he walked down the street, a hand on Henry’s backpack to keep him from crossing the road without him.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you yelled, before hearing a grumpy sounding banging next door. “Sorry Mrs. Shipley,” you grumbled. What a coincidence that you and Ted had bought a house together…and his upstairs neighbor Mrs. Shipley had moved in next door. 

The day flew by and before you knew it you were picking up Henry and making him dinner and watching whatever Spiderman movie was the newest and it was time for bed. Henry gave you a hug goodnight and retired to his room across the hall and you did the same, hoping that maybe having him there would reduce the aching loneliness that caused you nightmares whenever Ted wasn’t around. Instead you shot straight up from your sleep a few short hours later, sweating and upset, your chest heaving… and a small hand rubbing a circle on your back. 

“Henry?”

“I think you were having a bad dream. I heard you and you sounded upset.” You groaned and Henry slowly retracted his hand and stood up from where he’d been sitting. “Sorry for not knocking, I can—”

“No, it’s okay Henry,” you looked over at him, saw his worried expression that was just a mini version of Ted’s. “I’m just…embarrassed. Thank you for coming in. It was a bad dream, you’re right.” 

Henry still looked unsure so you patted the bed beside you and the two of you settled back against the headboard. “I get bad dreams sometimes too. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do when you have a bad dream?”

“I go get my dad,” Henry says gleefully. “He always lets me stay with him, and he’ll tell me one of his long stories until I fall asleep.” 

“That sounds nice. I only get bad dreams when your dad isn’t here, but he doesn’t know that.” 

“I think you should tell Dad, he’d want to know. And help if he can,” Henry said, pausing in the middle of this sentence for a massive yawn. 

You smiled at Henry, who was struggling to hold his head up, “yeah you’re probably right, Henry. Thanks for checking on me, we should get some sleep.” 

“I could stay here with you…if you want?” Henry's voice was small, and you wondered if maybe he needed your comfort as much as he was offering his own. 

You slid down into the bed and held up the covers for Henry to join you. “I’d appreciate it, you got any stories?” 

You fell asleep to the sound of Henry telling you a story about a possum at his grandma’s…or maybe it was an armadillo? Whatever it was, it worked and you slept soundly until you woke up to the sound of Ted sitting his bag down and leaning against the bedroom door, a broad grin on his face. You looked over at the clock and it was barely 10 after 6 am, and you realized Henry was still tucked into your side with his back to you and, his face smushed into Ted’s pillow. You smiled as Ted changed into pajamas and slid into bed with the two of you, sandwiching Henry in the middle. 

“Bad dream,” he questioned quietly, talking to you over Henry’s bedhead.

“Yeah,” you said sleepily, “mine.” Ted’s brow furrowed, but you cut him off before he could express his concern. “But it turns out Henry knew exactly what to do for a nightmare. And I learned a lot about possums…I think.” 

Ted chuckled, obviously recognizing the story, “he’s a good kid.” 

“That he is,” you smiled, tucking the covers up over the three of you. “He’s got a great dad.” 

You fell back asleep to the rhythm of your boys' breathing and the thought of how lucky you were to have a lovely little family like this one. 

Part 2 ->