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heliads · 4 years ago

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Forever Separated

Based on this request: “Reader is Luke’s girlfriend in the 90’s and is at the gig at the Orpheum and hit by a drunk driver and dies instantly. She and the boys come back as ghosts 25 years later. She’s there for everything that goes down with Julie, Willie, and Caleb.”

masterlist

Your fingers tap absentmindedly on the steering wheel as you careen through the streets. It’s late now, the beacons of headlights guiding you down the asphalt. There’s a grin on your face that won’t seem to go away- your boys are playing at the Orpheum tonight. The Orpheum. That’s been their dream for what feels like forever. It doesn’t even seem true.

By your boys, you mean Sunset Curve, of course. The motley collection of four teenage boys with dreams bigger than the world and the need for a chance to prove themselves. You stumbled across them at a small jazz club, at what had been one of their first performances. It hadn’t been long after that when you had become a friend of the bandmates, and an even shorter time before you fell in love with Luke. When you started dating, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

You had always known that they would make it, even when they seemed to doubt it themselves. You knew they had gathered regrets over the years- Reggie with the fracturing of his family, Alex with his parents’ lack of acceptance of him, and Luke with the way he’d run out on his mother. You had seen it in their faces- if their band never got off of the ground, they would continue to doubt themselves for the rest of their lives. There had been times when you thought that it might be over for good, that they’d be done for before they even got the chance to get started. Yet here you are now, driving towards their gig at the Orpheum.

You’re only a couple of streets away. You’re practically shivering with anticipation at the thought of it- all of their dreams and hopes, finally come to fruition. You, however, are running a little late despite your best interests, and so your foot involuntarily presses down on the gas. You’re not speeding, always careful to follow traffic laws, just making sure you’re not going to be as late as you fear.

It only seems fitting that something would go wrong on this night of nights. Thinking back, you’re almost glad it happened to you and not someone else. You had this awful feeling that something was going to happen to ruin this gig, and maybe if it happened to you it would protect the boys and let their show run on uninterrupted. When you pass through the intersection, this thought may have protected you.

When you see the truck out of the corner of your eye, you continue driving. You know it will stop, it has to. Maybe it’s the way you’re eager to see your boys again, or the fact that the light has been green for a long time now and there’s no way the driver could miss the glaring red in front of him. Maybe it’s just because you feel sheltered by this bubble of hope that comes with seeing the boy you love play at the Orpheum. Regardless, there is nothing you can do to avoid the truck, and you keep expecting that it will stop until it is inches away from you. Then you finally realize that there’s no getting out of this, and it is only then that it is too late to act.

You’ve seen car crashes in the movies. They’re always a blazing whirl of headlights and screeching tires, a hailstorm of broken glass that reflects the light in the most beautiful arc around you. It will be slow, like time itself crawls to a stop, just in time for your head to fly back in a graceful motion. Then it will speed up again, and just like that it will be over.

This is nothing like that. It is over an instant, no beautifully devastating moments. You’re not a marionette to be hung delicately in the air, your strings are cut within seconds. You do not have time to see the poetry in your last moments, they’re already over. All you manage to see is a quick glimpse of a bottle resting in the driver’s hands, a tremendous impact like the very shaking of the earth, and then there is nothing at all. No orchestras reach a momentum, no lens flares pierce the night. There is everything, and then there is nothing. It is painfully ordinary.

There is one feeling that seems to surround it all. A pain, numb at first and then growing to a fever pitch. You don’t know when you wake up, only that it is much later. There’s someone dressed in a paramedic’s uniform standing over you, the piercing din of an ambulance somewhere behind you. You want to form words together and ask who it’s for, but the answer comes to you the second you realize you can’t move a muscle. It is for you. You are the one in need of saving.

The paramedic is standing over you, shouting something about a drunk driver and two casualties, the driver and the girl right here. You want to stand up, to shout to the world that you’re alive and fine. But for some reason, you can’t move at all. You can’t say anything except feel the last of your pulse die from your veins. Distantly, you feel a raw anguish creeping up in your throat. Luke and the others are still waiting for you at the Orpheum. Who will tell them that you’re gone?

It should have been over then. You died, certainly. You bled out on the streets and ceased to draw breath. Indeed, you had the classic fading of color and acceptance of the darkness just like everyone else. It appears that you will only have access to the clichés of the stories in death. It’s oddly fitting. Regardless of the beauty of it, you died. End of story.

Or at least, it should have been the end. Yet, you find yourself standing again, waiting at the back of a crowded room. You stare at your hands, at your body, which appears unharmed. Your eyes travel from yourself to the people in front of you. Your parents sit in chairs, their backs to you. They’re looking over a photo album, crying softly. “She was so young. She could have done so much more. I miss her, even though it’s been so long.”

You step forward, but the ground makes no sound underneath your feet. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to be sad. She would want you to remember her with happiness, not with tears, right?” Your mother nods sadly. “I can’t seem to help it, though.” An icy chill runs through your veins as you realize what’s happened. All you can think about is that you need to get away from here, somewhere where you won’t be surrounded by people mourning your death.

And then you’re gone. One minute you’re in your home, the next minute you’re standing on the sidewalk outside. Although you look around frantically, no one notices your sudden appearance. No one, that is, except one boy. He’s riding a skateboard, long dark hair tucked underneath a helmet. He stops suddenly, staring at you. “Hey, you just poofed here out of nowhere. You’re a ghost?”

You stare at him. “You can see me?” He nods. “You must be new to this ghost business if you’ve got questions. I’m Willie, by the way.” You smile weakly at him. “Y/N. I guess I would have to be a ghost if I died in the accident.” Willie winces. “Ooh, accidents. Those hurt. I died around the early 80s, a couple of decades ago, so I know what you mean.” You stare at him. “The 80s weren’t a couple of decades ago. They were recent.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You must have only been brought back as a ghost recently. It’s the 2020s right now.” You shake your head slowly. “That means it’s been 30 years since I died. How is that possible?” Willie places a hand on your shoulder, and for some reason the gesture is surprisingly comforting. “Hey, not a whole lot about the ghost stuff makes sense. If you want to talk about it, though, I’m here.” You smile at him. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Willie ends up becoming a fast friend. He explains everything there is to know about ghosts, and the two of you have fun messing around with your ghost abilities, whatever those are. It’s nice to have someone who understands about the ghost business, and you find that in leaps and bounds with Willie.

One day, you’re lying on a grassy hill admiring the clouds when Willie poofs into existence next to you. For some reason, he looks almost flushed with excitement, cheeks pink with thrill. “You won’t believe who I met. The cutest guy. He’s a new ghost, too.” You grin over at him. “Already making moves? You’re unreal.” Willie rolls his eyes. “I played it safe. We had a nice chat. He seems very cool, in a band or something. I think he plays the drums. Alex, was in a band called Sunset Curve. I think that’s a good name for a band, and I’ve heard a lot of bad ones.”

You sit up suddenly, all thoughts of the bright afternoon sun quickly abandoned. “What did you say? About Sunset Curve?” Willie frowns. “That’s the guy’s band. Or, it was until he died. He’s about our age, played in a band called Sunset Curve.” You shake your head slowly. “That makes no sense. They should have grown up a long time ago.” Willie still seems confused, so you clarify. “I know Alex, and I know the rest of his bandmates. I was friends with them until I died.” You fix him with a sudden purposeful look. “I need you to bring me to meet these guys.”

Willie has to ask around, but eventually he finds Alex and discovers that they’re staying in their old studio, now inhabited by the Molina family. You thank him, setting off as soon as you can. As you stand outside the doors to the studio, you find yourself suddenly nervous. Will they want to see you? Will they understand what happened?

The faint sounds of music drifting out from the doors is what convinces you. It sounds just like them, like this is another afternoon from the 90s when you’re meeting up with Luke and the others. You gather your courage and knock twice on the doors, then push them open. You stand for a moment in the doorway, staring. The boys stare back at you. It’s funny- everyone looks the exact same, even though everything has changed.

Then there’s a voice from the back of the room. It’s quiet, as if he’s afraid to say anything lest the moment be fractured away into nothingness. “Y/N?” Luke steps forward, disbelief warring with hope in his eyes. You nod slowly. “Luke?” Luke stands still for a moment longer, then runs forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close. You tuck your head into the space between his head and his shoulder, letting yourself relax once more.

After what could be ten seconds or ten minutes, Luke reluctantly pulls away. He cups your face in his hand, just staring with awe. “How are you here? We died- you weren’t at the Orpheum-” You laugh bitterly. “I died too. There was a drunk driver on the road, he hit me when I was just a couple of blocks away. I was so close, that was the worst part.” Luke nods slowly. “I remember hearing sirens. I didn’t know it was you.”

Something like guilt passes over his face, and you hurriedly shake your head. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I guess you died some time after that?” Luke nods. “Just before the show. We never got to play.” A sad sigh rips from his chest, and you pull him close again. It isn’t fair, not at all. He shouldn’t have died, you shouldn’t have died. He should not have been robbed of this chance to live the dream he always wanted.

There’s the sound of a throat clearing from across the room. “You know, we’re here too. Not just Luke.” You look up, laughing. “Sorry, Reggie, Alex. Love you guys too. I’m glad we can all be dead together.” Alex flashes you a thumbs up from across the room. “Me too, Y/N. Me too.” Luke laughs now, albeit reluctantly. You squeeze his hand one more time, then step into the room, greeting the other boys.

Your gaze falls upon a figure you don’t recognize- a girl, about your age if not a year younger. She has dark, curly hair and a fascinated smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” The girl startles. “Julie. Julie Molina. It’s nice to meet you- you must be the girl Luke keeps talking about.” You toss a grin Luke’s way. “You’ve been talking about me?” Luke moves to deny this, but Reggie speaks up loudly. “So often. You have no idea. He’s been very sad.”

Luke glares at his friend, but you just grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Well, it’s nice to feel wanted.” Luke beams at you, still thrilled that you’re here again. “Trust me, you are. I can’t believe you get to stay with me.”

Neither can you, actually. Somehow, despite the fact that you died and came back again, Luke did the same, and you can be with him again. You’ve lost everything- your family, your future, your life, but you still have him. It feels impossible, but it’s true.

This isn’t to say that life is smooth sailing from here. It turns out Luke, Alex, and Reggie have gotten themselves tangled in the mess that is Caleb’s club, and they’ve got the stamps to prove it. You find yourself holding Luke close while he spasms from jolt after jolt, forcing smiles to pretend like it doesn’t kill you every time he’s in pain. You also have to defend Willie to the rest, as he’s been your friend for a while and would never knowingly betray them. You have a feeling that Alex is pretty happy to hear this.

At last, you find the way to save Luke and save the boys- another performance at the Orpheum, this time as their unfinished business. Standing outside the building, staring up at the blinking neon signs, you can’t help but feel some strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. This feels like a sick twist of deja vu. This is how you died- waiting for the boys’ performance at the Orpheum. Staying here now, in the same position but after you’ve died, feels somehow wrong.

You try to shake the thoughts from your head, slipping inside the building to go find Luke, Julie, and the others. This isn’t like that night, you can’t die twice. Everything is going to be fine. Yet when you walk in the dressing room and catch sight of a panicked Flynn trying to calm a visibly shaken Julie, you have a feeling that things aren’t exactly smooth sailing.

Julie looks up when she sees you appear in the room. “Y/N, it’s good to see you. Have you seen Luke and the boys?” You shake your head, a crease forming between your brows. “No, not since I left the studio to let you say your goodbyes. Have they not shown up?” Julie sinks back down in a chair, hands pressed to her temples. “Not at all.” You slump against a wall. This feels like history repeating itself again- you dead, the boys not showing up to their performance at the Orpheum. No matter how many times you tell a story, it tends to end the same way.

Distraught, you wander back through the building to attempt to find the boys, but your search is to no avail. They’re nowhere to be found. You stumble through the auditorium just to see Julie taking the stage. You have a brief, wild hope that she’s managed to find them, but then you see the red rims of her teary eyes and hear the goodbye she issues to the crowd. If they haven’t shown up, then that means-

You try to distract yourself by listening to Julie sing. It brings a smile to your face in spite of yourself. Julie is a bright firecracker of a girl, and it’s been wonderful to get to know her. At least you know you have her at the end of this. Yet when the beat drops, Alex appears in a flash of sparks. You stand up, pressing forward through the crowd as if your proximity will do anything more to bring them back. Yes- there goes Reggie, and there’s Luke struggling to flicker back into existence. You send out a silent plea: bring him back, please. You can’t do this without him.

Then he’s back again, and you feel like your heart might burst. He flashes you a grin, as if to promise that nothing could separate you again. You smile back at him, finally letting yourself relax. He’s here, it’s okay. It’s all okay. When the song ends, you watch through joyful eyes as the boys stand next to Julie, clasping hands before taking a bow. There’s something wrong, though, something wrong when they disappear. Usually, you can loosely sense them when they poof away, but this time there’s nothing. Nothing at all. It’s like they’ve been erased away from the song of their lives.

There’s something pounding in the back of your heart, and you poof away to Julie’s rooms backstage. She appears there seconds later, as if she’s been expecting you. She runs over to you, stopping a few feet away as she remembers she can’t touch you or hug you as a ghost. “Tell me they’re still here. They didn’t just cross over.” You shake your head slowly. “I can’t feel them. They’re not in the building anymore. Julie, I think they’re gone.”

She nods slowly, fighting a losing battle to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. So sorry. You just found Luke again, and now he’s gone.” You force a smile. “It’s alright. We’re just ghosts, remember? We’ve been running on borrowed time all along. I’ll meet you at the studio, alright? We can say our goodbyes.” Julie nods. “I’ll see you then.” You give her one last wave, then poof out.

You reappear outside the doors of the studio. You can’t quite bring yourself to go in, to face the empty stillness of the studio and know that the boy you love isn’t there. What are you supposed to do now? You have no idea what your unfinished business could possibly be. Most likely, you’re going to live out your endless days as a ghost, not noticed by anyone except Julie and Willie and whatever other ghosts you manage to find, forever haunted by the knowledge that the one person you’re looking for the most will never appear around the corner, never be waiting for you again. It’s like you’re back to that car crash, knowing you’ll be separated by death once more.

You hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and straighten up. Seconds later, Julie appears down the path, and you nod at her slowly. “Are you ready to do this?” She sighs. “It seems fitting to say goodbye, even if they aren’t here.” She pushes open the doors, letting the darkness wash over the two of you. She looks over at you. “I don’t know what to do.” You smile gently. “There’s no script. I have a feeling they’ll be able to hear you. Just say what you wish you got to say before they left.”

Julie nods. “I’m glad I got to meet you guys, and grateful to you for everything. You got me back into music, and I’ll never be able to let go of it again. I thought I’d never play after my mom, but you convinced me that I could. Thank you.” There’s a muffled voice from the back of the room, one that’s quickly shushed by two annoyed boys. “You’re welcome.” You stare. “Reggie?” You’d know him anywhere- you’ve heard that voice in band practices for the last couple of decades, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

Julie runs over to turn on the light, and your hand flies to your mouth as you see the boys crumpled in a heap on the floor, in obvious pain. “Did it not work? Did you not cross over?” Luke shakes his head, gently extricating himself from the heap of band members on the ground to stumble over to you. You catch him before he falls, holding him upright. “We won’t play with Caleb, that’s a promise. It’s not worth it like that.” You cup his face in your hands. “I don’t want to let you go. Not yet.”

Luke laughs quietly. “I’m not sure we had a choice. I love you, Y/N, no matter what. You know that, right?” You nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “I know.” You feel one last jolt rack his body, and somehow you know that this will be the last. This is it, the moment when he truly dies. You fling your arms around him, holding him close one last time. If you can’t have the future with him you had always planned, you can at least have this moment.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, waiting for the moment when he disappears from you forever. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes carefully, then stare at him. “Luke, you’re- I think you’re glowing.” Sure enough, he’s surrounded by this golden haze of light. He smiles at you, chuckling slightly in awe. “I feel good. Strong, like I haven’t felt in a while.” Alex stands up too, as does Reggie. “Actually, I feel better too. I think you saved us. Both of you.”

You laugh incredulously. “Really? You’re not going away?” Luke presses a kiss to your cheek. “Never again. I’m not leaving you ever again.” You beam at him. “Good. I don’t intend to be with anyone else.” He laughs at that, pulling you in for a kiss. For once, you know that he’s here to stay.

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fruitydiaz-archived · 4 years ago

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that’s my boy

eddie slips up after a successful rescue on a call and, while looking at buck looking beautiful and overjoyed, says “that’s my boy” to himself. except chim, hen, and bobby are all there when he says it.

buddie, pre-relationship, sweet fluff, pining

2,184 words

AO3 link

—

That’s my boy.

Eddie doesn’t mean to say it. It’s not like it’s even a phrase that he thinks often — not in regards to Buck.

Okay, so maybe, every once in a while Eddie will look at him doing something that is so whole-heartedly Buck — like performing a rope rescue when an apartment complex is on fire, or risking his life to save his ex-girlfriend’s fiance because he made a promise, because he’s always ready and willing to fall on the sword for the people he loves, even after they’ve hurt him, (Eddie wishes he wouldn’t do that so often, actually, but he understands), or organizing a Christmas party with Athena and inviting his whole family because he knew how upset they were that he wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them, or building gingerbread houses with Chris and Denny — and being happy to do it nonetheless. Just occasional things like that that make Eddie pause and make pride swell up inside him and remind him just how much he loves this man — despite all of the stress and anguish he causes him on a regular basis.

Which, is also, not something he thinks about often. The love thing, that is. The stress and anguish — that’s constant.

But when they’re on a call and Buck is ripping his helmet off, wiping the sweat from his forehead, skipping after the ambulance as it pulls away, overjoyed that his on-his-feet thinking and bull-headed determination saved yet another life, Eddie can’t help it when he smiles fondly, shakes his head, and chuckles to himself.

“That’s my boy.”

He doesn’t really process what he’s said until he looks back up and sees Hen, Chimney, and Bobby all staring at him. Chimney’s stopped chewing on his gum, mouth hanging a little open, Hen’s frozen with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and Bobby’s looking at him with that look he gets when another imaginary piece of some metaphorical puzzle that only he is privy to falls into place. He tends to look at Eddie like that often, especially around Buck.

Eddie just stares back at them, tilting his head to the side a little, and pursing his lips.

“Your boy?” Hen prompts eventually, an amused grin slowly spreading on her face. Eddie feels his cheeks warm but shakes his head in confusion.

“What? I didn’t say—” Chimney starts shaking his head violently, cutting Eddie off.

“Nope, nope, you definitely did say those words.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue that no he didn’t otherwise he would remember and also he’s never once said those words about Buck out loud so, of course, he wouldn’t — but Bobby holds his hand up, silencing all of them. Eddie tries hard to convince himself that the smirk on Bobby’s face isn’t also amused, because he likes to think that Bobby’s above all that. He’s their Captain, after all.

“Alright, you guys. Let’s wrap this up, okay?” Bobby says gently, gesturing to the scene in front of them. Eddie nods, avoiding making eye contact with either Hen or Chimney.

He does sneak a glance at Buck, eventually. He can’t really help himself. Buck’s like a magnet for him. He’s pretty sure he’d be able to spot Buck instantly, in any crowd, on any day. It’s partially this itch he has, this need to know where the people he cares about are, at all times, just to know that they’re safe. But also, there’s just a natural gravity that Buck has. Eddie always finds himself being pulled closer and closer.

It’s golden hour and Buck’s leaning against a post on the side of the street, talking to Athena and Bobby, making exaggerated gestures with his hands as he relays what just happened to them, even though they were right there with him. His hair looks soft and tousled, like it always does when he pulls his helmet off at the end of a call. The sunlight is hitting it just so, illuminating the edges of it and making it glow golden, like a halo around Buck’s head. Warmth blooms in Eddie’s chest at the sight.

That’s my boy.

When he turns back to the scene Hen and Chimney are smirking at him again. He rolls his eyes, finishes packing up, and spins to jog back to the truck.

Eddie likes to make his home in denial. It’s an island that keeps him safe, keeps him away from all of the things that could hurt him — like the reality of his feelings.

He’s known for a while that he feels something for Buck — he’s just not always sure what that feeling is. The thing about his feelings for Buck is that...not only are they absolutely terrifying to him — but they’re also confusing. He doesn’t fully understand his feelings because he’s not sure they're anything he’s ever felt before, not all at once, at least. He wasn’t expecting this — not from Buck.

Eddie doesn’t let a lot of people get close to him. It’s just a thing that he developed in his childhood that got stronger over time, the more he experienced loving and losing people. You don’t let people close, you don’t get hurt when they leave. That’s a simple fact.

But Buck hadn’t listened to that. Buck didn’t care that Eddie was scared of letting him in only for him to leave — because for Buck leaving wasn’t even an option. He had fucked up once and he spent every single moment since doing his damned best to make sure Eddie knew that he was ride or die, with him ‘till the end of the line. And he meant it, Eddie knew that.

So it could be easy for Eddie to look at Buck and be grateful that he has a friend like that, a support system that, no matter how hard either one of them tried, they couldn’t fuck up. But Eddie’s never felt the way he feels about Buck for anyone, ever. He had close friends in his childhood, and they always said they would be together forever, but none of them were around anymore. What did they have to base their loyalty off of, anyway? It was never serious when they said it, it was kid stuff.

And in his adulthood, most of his friends were from the army. They shared a lot of experiences that nobody else would understand, and came a lot closer than your average friendship, given the circumstances, but none of them made Eddie feel the way he does about Buck.

Certainly, no one looked at Christopher the way Buck did, save for his own family, and that was enough to throw Eddie’s entire body into some strange whirlpool of emotions he rarely let himself get swept up in.

Chris was Eddie’s entire world. He wanted to protect him from every hurt imaginable, even when he knew he couldn’t. Sometimes that protectiveness led to him making mistakes — but he was a parent and that was bound to happen, and he had to learn how to adjust, how to step back, and let Christopher find out things on his own. He had to let him get hurt, sometimes, and then encourage him to get back up.

But the hurt Eddie wanted to protect him from most of all was the hurt of abandonment. He never wanted to let another person into his life again, not without knowing that they would stay.

And Buck? Buck would do anything for Christopher. He never even had to say it because Eddie just knew. He said it in all of his actions, the way he walked all day after the tsunami, bleeding from his arm, collapsing in exhaustion only after he saw that Chris was safe. The way he encouraged him to never give up, to find a way to do whatever he wants. He loves Chris, and that makes Eddie love him even more.

He’s loved people before. Even if he’s not one to say it often, not in those words at least, he recognizes it when he feels it. He loves his family, his parents, his sisters, his aunt, his Abuela — even when they’re overstepping his carefully set boundaries. He loved the guys in his unit. He loved Shannon, he loves Christopher. He loves everyone at the 118, the family he chose.

But Buck is something different. Buck is something he’s never felt before.

When he realized he loved Shannon, it was like a hurricane that came out of nowhere, rushing over him, drenching him in its rains, pulling him in every direction, and leaving him entirely breathless. She was a perfect storm of love and chaos. One that he doesn’t regret, but one that he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to experience again. He’s not sure he could survive that kind of devastation again.

But Buck wasn’t anything like that, even though Eddie’s pretty sure that he should be, with all of his fierce love and reckless abandon. Eddie realized he loved Buck like watching a sunrise, slowly, gradually, growing warmer and brighter over time. He was a sight that made your chest ache from its beauty, one of those things that made you feel lucky to be alive, one of those things that made you feel like you were blessed to witness it.

He left Eddie feeling stunned and off-balance, but warm, and comforted at the same time. The thing about sunrises was that you could always count on them to come back around the next day. No matter what storms the night before brought, the sun was always there in the morning.

Buck made Eddie feel safe.

That’s my boy.

He’s packing up his gear in the truck when he spots Buck out of the corner of his eye, jogging towards him. He pretends to ignore him, ducking his head and smiling to himself as he shuts the door on the truck.

“Hey man, did you see that?” Buck says as he approaches Eddie. His voice is light and airy, like he’s a little out of breath from the jog over, which would make sense since he’s still got at least 70 pounds of gear on him. But he doesn’t look bothered by it at all. He just clasps his hands together and smiles at Eddie with that giant, overly pleased, and just on the verge of shy smile — the one he always shares with Eddie.

Eddie leans against the truck casually, crossing his arms and nodding at Buck, smiling.

“Yeah, I saw it. You did good, kid.” His heart constricts at the way Buck lights up at the praise. It’s times like these where he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him, card a hand through his hair and then bring him in gently, tucking Buck’s face into his neck and holding him close, whispering all the words of encouragement he never got to hear when he was younger.

But he settles for this, standing at arm's length and keeping his praise to a minimum.

“We did good,” Buck corrects, punching Eddie’s shoulder lightly. “We make a good team.”

The team, Eddie knows, consists of Bobby, Chimney, Hen, Buck, and him. But when Buck looks at him like that, when he says things like that, it makes him feel like it's about just the two of them.

Buck’s matching his position, leaning against the truck now, looking down at Eddie with his flushed face and his sweet smile. It’s like they’re the only two people in the world. It’s an intoxicating feeling, so addictive that Eddie often wishes that he could just let himself get lost in it, soak up all of the love and attention that just radiates off of Buck, stretch out in the sunlight and just let it warm him all over, be utterly and unashamedly selfish with it. To relish in that love that he’s not always sure he deserves.

He opens his mouth, not sure what exactly he’s going to say next, when Hen appears behind him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Eddie, you and your boy ready to head back home or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty all night?” She shoots him a sly grin over her shoulder as she passes by them to climb into the truck. Eddie freezes a little at the teasing, not sure what he’ll say if Buck turns to him, tilts his head, and asks what did she mean by your boy?

But he doesn’t tilt his head in question at all. His eyes lock with Eddie’s for just a second and the corners of his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. Eddie feels his breath get trapped somewhere in his chest and then Buck turns away and disappears into the truck.

He hangs back for a bit, struggling to catch his breath again, nodding at Chimney and Bobby as they brush past him. Bobby pauses before he rounds the truck, looking back at Eddie with an amused smile.

“You good, Diaz?” He calls. Eddie looks away before nodding, waving a hand, and pulling the door open.

“All good, Cap.”

#okay i'm going to go workout now and then start work but here's something i wrote #everyone's being ANGSTY and i LOVE it but i just wanted to b swEET for a moment #and i love writing eddie in love with buck idk idk #soft boys #buddie #911 fic #911 fox #al talks #writing

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crimsonrose-monika · 3 years ago

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[Tokyo Revengers Fanfic] By Your Side, Always

If you prefer AO3 format, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33160153

Title: By Your Side, Always

Pairing: Mikey & Takemitchy, Implied Mikey / Takemitchy, Takemichi / Hinata, Open to interpretation.

Tags: Manila Future Timeline Mikey, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Tenjiku Arc, Mikey Needs a Hug, Song-Inspired Fanfic

Synopsis:

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Witnessing the dark future that awaited Mikey and the rest of Toman, Takemichi took a leap. He desperately wanted to save the invincible Mikey from himself. This time, he decided to stay.

This fanfic is inspired by a song 歩いていこう by いきものがかり. Parts of the song was inserted in the story. I translated the song and polish the translation myself to fit the English phrasing. (Putting my rusty Japanese to work here.) Feel free to listen while reading.

youtube

By Your Side, Always

“All my life, I’ve been suffering.” Mikey whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, but he smiled, as if his death was the best outcome he could ever wish for.

Takemichi felt his heart smashed into pieces as he watched life rapidly seeping out of his dear friend. Tears didn’t suit Mikey. A smile did, but not like this. Not the small tilt of his lips that amplified the crushed hope that lurked behind his deep, dark eyes. The best smile for Mikey was the full, satisfied one that smoothed the cease of his brows and made him shine brighter than anyone.

Without thinking, words rushed from Takemichi’s mouth. He didn’t care that he had been trying his hardest to not reveal his ability to anyone. He didn’t care what side effects admitting to time leap could cause. All he could think of was Mikey’s resignation. He wanted to erase that look from his eyes. He was to give this man hope.

What could have happened that made the invincible Mikey, who had faced down an overwhelmingly outnumbered fight with his back straight and his shoulders squared, felt like his death was the only happiness?

“Thanks, Takemitchy. Your words comforted me.” Mikey’s voice was calm. He stared up at the man whose eyes reminded him of sunlight hitting the sea surface, committing them to his last memory. Takemichi was crying again, ever the crybaby. Even when Mikey had held him at gunpoint, Takemichi still cried for him. “Even if you’re telling me lies...I’m happy.”

Blood from his head wound flowed into his eyes, but Mikey paid it no mind. In his last moment, he wanted to treasure the last member of Toman who didn’t lose their life by Mikey’s hands.

Takemichi’s tears fell onto Mikey’s shoulder blade. As his body slowly lost its heat, the warmth of Takemichi’s touch became clear. How long had it been since he had felt another person’s gentle heat on his skin? When was the last time Mikey had any kind of physical contact that lasted for more than a few seconds that it took his feet and fists to take down opponents? He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone.

“Your hands are so warm.”

Mikey’s eyes clouded over. All awareness escaped him as his breathing slowed to a stop. Feeling like the battered floor under his knees gave away, Takemichi brought Mikey close. As light shone through the time-worn holes in the ceiling, illuminating Mikey’s lifeless form like a silent eulogy, Takemichi’s memory of the man played behind his eyes.

“From now on, you’re my bitch!” Mikey had confidently declared the first time they had met, after he and Draken defeated Kiyomasa with ease.

“I’m going to create an era for delinquents,” Mikey had proclaimed his dream with determination alight in his eyes. At that moment, Mikey had stood with his feet planted firmly, ready for anything the world would throw his way.

“Boo!” In the bath house, after the fight with Mobius’ remnants at the festival, Mikey had smiled widely and played like a kid.

“You’re strong, Takemitchy,” Mikey, who was stronger than anyone, had acknowledged his respect for the crybaby.

Reliving the memories of Mikey brought a different kind of resolution to Takemichi. He clenched his fist to steel himself and plunged into the stream of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Takemichi hated funerals. As an adult, he understood that death was an inevitable state of humans. But recently, he had attended too many funerals—had seen too many deaths—in all timelines.

Hinata, Atsushi, Baji, Mitsuya, Mikey, Emma, Izana, and even Kisaki, whose death Takemichi had thought wouldn’t make him feel anything. How wrong he was.

Why did people keep dying despite his best effort?

During the entirety of Emma’s funeral, Mikey didn’t cry. He stared at Emma’s portrait, where she laughed brightly without a care in the world, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes Takemichi caught a glimpse of silent despair and anguish that he had seen swirling behind the future Mikey’s eyes.

It scared him.

Emma’s death wasn’t the trigger to Mikey’s darkness, Takemichi knew, because the leader of Toman was strong. Mikey would be sad. He would grieve, he would see the world crumbling to dust before him, and he would be lost, but he would come back. Just like he had come back to face Izana with a heart that was still bleeding, ready to love another brother despite the fresh pain that was etched into his soul.

But even the strongest man could fall once the loss of his precious people piled up in such a short time. In the span of Mikey’s teenage life, he had lost three out of four family members and half of the starting members of Toman, all of them sudden, without time to prepare or make peace. Some people would come back—Pah-chin and Kazutora—but the rest were gone forever.

Even to Takemichi, a somewhat outsider-turned-friend—because they were all his friends, but he would never compare his care for them to Mikey’s—who took in the situation with great shock that clung to every fiber of his body, Mikey’s life was like a cruel, heartless joke.

How could a person experience so much pain so young?

It was already a miracle that Mikey retained his sense of self this long.

After the funeral, Takemichi walked with Hinata, but they couldn’t seem to go anywhere. In the end, they continued walking mindlessly across the town. He registered the same store that they had walked past twice before, but he couldn’t bring himself to think. Hinata didn’t say anything either. She walked beside him wordlessly, offering her presence to Takemichi’s fleeting awareness.

They stopped at an empty park, where they sat on the swings as silence stretched. The sky already turned dark when Takemichi spoke.

“I couldn’t change Emma’s death. I was right there, but I still couldn’t do anything.”

Hinata listened intently, like she always did. Takemichi could feel her patient gaze on the side of his face even as he stared down at his hands that clasped together on his lap.

“In the future, Mikey-kun lost himself. After Emma died, Mikey-kun fell into darkness. He told me that he’d been suffering all his life.” Takemichi’s voice shook at the end as he remembered the future Mikey’s existence that screamed out to him in misery, begging him to put his own life to an end. “I knew all that, but I still failed.”

His breath stuttered as the beginning of a sob formed behind his throat. His eyes were hot.

At this rate, Mikey is going to end up the same. Toman members would all die. Nothing would change.

“I’m tired, Hina-chan. I’m tired of going back to find out that it is another bad future once again. They deserve to be happy, but the world keeps throwing pain at them. It’s not fair.”

Even as he blabbered on, Takemichi berated himself for talking like a child. It wasn’t fair? The world was never fair, but it was being particularly cruel to all his loved ones.

Takemichi roughly wiped his tears with the sleeves of his shirt.

He had been thinking. He had been changing the past. He had prevented Draken’s death that would change Mikey, but then Hinata and Atsushi died. Draken was on a death row. He had conveyed Baji’s intention to Mikey and stopped him from killing Kazutora, but Hinata and Chifuyu still died. Even worse, it was him who ordered her death. Then, he made sure that Hakkai didn’t join Black Dragons. It should have been the best future yet, but everyone died, and Mikey was living a life he would rather not have.

No matter how many times Takemichi changed the past, there still wasn’t a single future where everyone was happy. In the face of repeated failures, he started to think that maybe he had been looking at it from the wrong point of view.

When he was lost in his head, Hinata spoke up for the first time.

“Takemichi-kun, what do you think you are to Mikey-kun?”

What a strange question.

Takemichi lifted his head and looked at his girlfriend. Hinata smiled at him even though her eyes were red from crying at Emma’s funeral. She had grown quite close to Mikey’s sister.

When he didn’t say anything, she looked away and spoke what had been on her mind. “Hina might not know the people from Toman as well as Takemichi-kun, but Hina has been watching when you’re with them. Mikey-kun cares about you. There are many times when you said ridiculous things, Takemichi-kun, but he listened to you.”

Hinata started pushing her feet into the ground, propelling herself gently back and forth on the swing absentmindedly as she organized her thoughts. When she spoke next, she seemed like she knew something about Mikey that Takemichi didn’t. Her big round eyes looked straight ahead, away from Takemichi, but her voice made its way into his heart.

“Your voice reached Mikey-kun, again and again. You brought him back. You mean more to Mikey-kun than you think, Takemichi-kun. Maybe there is something you can say to him that will remind him to not give in to his darkness?”

Takemichi remembered. When he had said that he would become Toman’s top member to Mikey’s face, he was serious and determined. But deep down, he knew how ridiculous it had sounded. If it had been anyone else, Takemichi would surely get a jeer in the face. He wasn’t good at fighting. He got more punches in his face than he had landed. Anyone would have thought that he was a pushover.

But not Mikey. He had taken Takemichi’s words seriously and never once laughed at him for aiming high. The invincible Mikey had said that Takemichi was stronger even though Mikey could defeat him with one kick. Every time that Mikey almost lost himself in grief and impulse, Takemichi’s sincere words brought him back to sense.

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“Could it be that no matter what I did, Toman still went bad because I wasn’t there?”

When Takemichi jumped back to the future, what was left in this timeline was the young Takemichi who didn’t intimately know Mikey’s suffering. He didn’t want to admit the cowardice of his younger self, ashamed at how weak he had been until Hinata’s death in the first timeline had opened his eyes, but the young Takemichi wouldn’t be able to scold Mikey like he had been asked to. Only the future Takemichi could, but he wasn’t here when Mikey needed him.

That must be why. There was no one to pull Mikey back from the brink because Takemichi who could wasn’t there with him.

If that was true, then he could just stay to make sure that Mikey wouldn’t go down the wrong path. He would act as Mikey’s moral pillar, like he had been asked to after the fight on Christmas Day. That way, instead of jumping back to find that one or all of his friends met their premature ends, he could be with them and make sure that they were okay.

When Hinata tore her eyes from the park to look back at Takemichi’s face, she knew that her boyfriend had come to some form of conclusion. She wasn’t sure what that decision was, but she knew him. Takemichi was the crybaby hero. His determination to protect was more fierce than anyone. So she waited.

“Hina-chan, this time, I’m not going back to the future.”

Hinata wouldn’t say that what she heard was anything she had expected, but at the same time, now that it was said out loud, it was the most Takemichi-like answer.

“Will it be okay not to go back?” She asked, a little worried about what would happen to the body of the future Takemichi if his consciousness was here. Takemichi had told her that he came from the future to fix things and go back when whatever he was here for was corrected, but he didn’t go into how the time leap worked.

“It should be fine,” Takemichi replied. He seemed a little unsure as he spoke, but then he pressed his lips together and held his head up high. His blue eyes that were illuminated under the street light shone brightly. “When I’m here, my body in the future was on autopilot. Even if something happens, I’m still alive here. I can continue to make changes so that nothing bad will happen to any of us in the future.”

“Is that how it works?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it is my best option.”

Hinata watched Takemichi in silence. Time passed, and Takemichi was starting to think that maybe he got something wrong and Hinata didn’t agree when she nodded to herself and gave him a sparkling smile.

“Hina will support Takemichi-kun no matter what you choose,” she said with finality, as if it had been predetermined.

Takemichi felt incredibly lucky to have Tachibana Hinata, a girl whose heart was unmovable and understanding, in his life. “Thank you, Hina-chan.”

“Also, please work out your feelings.” At that very moment, Hinata looked like someone who held the secret of the world. She seemed to know Takemichi better than he knew himself. “Hina will be waiting okay?”

Again, Hinata said a cryptic message that Takemichi didn’t quite understand. But he nodded.

歩いていこう歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Mikey called Takemichi to meet at the Musashi Shrine. He told Takemichi to wear his Toman black uniform, which Takemichi easily complied. March temperature had warmed up a bit from the freezing February, on its way to welcome spring, but it still wasn’t anywhere near warm enough to go out without bundling up. Good thing that Toman’s long sleeves and baggy pants uniform made it simple to slip another layer or two underneath.

When Takemichi arrived, Mikey was already there, playing with the puff of his breath that the cold, humid air produced. He wore his usual white long-sleeve shirt underneath his coat uniform that draped over his shoulders. Takemichi wondered if Mikey didn’t feel cold in this kind of weather.

Takemichi told Mikey all about the future, from the very beginning when he was pushed onto the train rails. What he had changed up until now and its result in each timeline. He sobbed when he apologized for failing to save Baji and Emma, and broke into a cry when he told Mikey what had happened to his future self in Manila.

Mikey’s face was carefully blank as he listened. Takemichi couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was something that had been bothering him since he took his first step onto the stone paved path of the shrine. Mikey’s posture was taut, like a string that was stretched to the point of snapping. His words and his every move seemed calculated.

Takemichi didn’t like it. So when he finished the story and Mikey fell silent, eyes trained somewhere faraway, he announced his intention.

“Mikey-kun, I’m not going back.”

Mikey’s dark eyes snapped to him, surprised. His brows ceased as he contemplated. “If you’re worrying about everyone, I give you my words, Takemitchy. I’ll definitely protect everyone’s future. Hina too. I’ll make sure that the same future won’t happen, so you don’t have to be so reluctant to part ways.”

Mikey smiled, the same smile as that time when he said Toman would never lose because he was here. The one that was both confident in the outcome and self-assured in his own abilities. But Takemichi saw it, a hint of deep emotion that Mikey tried desperately not to show others. Takemichi would never have noticed before, but after witnessing the future in Manila, he became aware of little clues and changes in expressions that Mikey’s body couldn’t hide.

Toman’s invincible leader always smiled when faced with difficulties. But that wasn’t the smile that Takemichi wanted.

歩道橋の向こうに冬のまちが見えたよ

On the other side of the overpass, I could see the city in the winter.

ひとかけらの孤独を手に僕は明日をつないでいる

With the fragments of loneliness in my hands, I am reaching toward tomorrow.

「こころで笑えるかな」いつかの声が聴こえた

“Can you smile with all your heart?” I heard a voice from some day.

白い息が空に消える

The breath vapor disappears into the sky.

寂しくはない駅へ急ぐよ

I’m not lonely. I’m rushing to the station.

Takemichi knew that Mikey would keep his promise. As a leader and as a friend, Mikey treasured the trust that Toman had put in him and would do his best to respond in kind. He wouldn’t break his promise.

But protecting everyone alone was a task that even adults struggled to accomplish. No matter how powerful Mikey was, he still needed a place or a person whom he could fall onto when he needed a break. Takemichi was determined to be that person. He would help Mikey protect everyone and carry parts of his burden. He didn’t want to see the hopelessness in Mikey ever again.

“I know, Mikey-kun. But I want to stay. I want to be with you and the rest of Toman.” He explained, staring at the deep dark eyes to convey the force of his sincerity. “I want to help you. Please let me help you protect everyone’s future. Please let me protect your future.”

Although Mikey didn’t act like he needed it, his future was also important and deserved to be protected.

Takemichi hoped that his expressive eyes would persuade Mikey for him, to let him know that Takemichi wouldn’t back down. Like it had played out when Takemichi had announced his intention to become one of Toman’s top leaders, Mikey would have to acknowledge it.

Takemichi could see Mikey’s resolution wavered. He reeled in his weakness a heartbeat later, but that short moment was enough for Takemichi to catch on.

“What about Hina?” Mikey pressed, resorting to bringing up a girl whom he knew Takemichi would throw his life away for if it meant she would live well. “She’s waiting for you in the future.”

Despite the reminder, Takemichi didn’t back down. “I have Hina-chan here too. I told her my decision, and Hina-chan said she would support me.”

Mikey bit his lips, his eyes straying sideways. It seemed like he had his plan, but whatever that plan was, it was being shaken by Takemichi’s words.

“I have everyone I ever want here with me, Mikey-kun. I want to stay. Not just for you and for Toman, but for myself too.”

It was as if the wall that Mikey had built around himself crumbled down like glass. In the first place, Mikey objected to Takemichi staying because he felt that the other was putting others before himself. He didn’t want Takemichi to throw away his chance to live as he wanted just because he was worried about the people in the past.

But Takemichi had said that he was staying for himself too.

The stubbornness that lined Mikey’s lips eased into a soft smile. “You already made up your mind even before I said anything.”

Takemichi grinned at his Toman leader. “I’m sorry,” he offered without really feeling sorry.

There was the sound of motorcycle engines at the edge of Takemichi’s hearing, a sound that had wormed its way into Takemichi’s heart and oddly assured him of belonging and comfort. It got louder by the seconds, until it stopped somewhere to his right, in the shrine’s parking lot that was obscured by a row of trees. Dull marching steps replaced the engine sound as a crowd of black-cladded people strode up to the stairs where Takemichi and Mikey were standing.

Something cold fell on the tip of Takemichi’s nose, before another one planted itself on his forehead. He looked up at the darkened sky and saw white flakes falling down in fluttering dances.

“It’s snowing...” Takemichi muttered.

“Strange, isn’t it? The weather forecast said it wouldn’t snow.” Holding his palm up to collect a small puff of white frozen water in his hand, Mikey gazed at it as the hundred members of Toman fell into neat rows behind their respective captains. Mitsuya and Smiley were still in their wheelchair, but they grinned widely.

「帰らないと決めたんだ」

“I have decided to not go back.”

はじまりを告げるように雪が降り始めた

As if to mark the beginning, snow started to fall.

“Thank you, Takemitchy. I have decided.” Mikey straightened his back and squared his shoulders, the very picture of Tokyo Manji Kai’s invincible leader. There was a gleam in his eyes that made Takemichi nodded and went down to his place right in front of Chifuyu and the rest of the first division.

Mikey looked over them confidently as he grinned. “Listen up, everyone!”

The entirety of Toman snapped to attention as the voice of their leader carried through the air. Soft snow continued to fall gently to the ground.

“We have faced a lot of hardship in our fight with Tenjiku, but we overcame them and emerged victorious. Toman is now Japan’s top gang!”

As he listened, Takemichi felt his chest puffed up in pride, and he was certain that every single person who carried Toman’s manji on the back of their uniform felt the same.

“We’ve created an era that will be handed down to generations to come, an era for delinquents that we have dreamed of! Thank you everyone for sticking with me and making Toman the best gang out there. But our dream doesn't end here. Toman will continue to show the world the way of delinquents we uphold! I hope that you all will be with me on this journey.”

Then, Mikey relaxed his posture and spoke a little more comfortably. “To let you all recover from the fight, there won’t be a gang meeting for a while. I will end the meeting here. Be careful while you go home and rest well.”

They bowed, deeply and respectfully, to the leader who had led them through many hardships and who had lost so much, before the crowd slowly receded along with the booming sound of bike roars.

The captains and vice-captains stayed for a while longer, discussing among themselves the outcome of the Kanto Incident and speculating about the future that awaited Toman, but gradually, they bid farewell one by one until the only occupants on the shrine ground were Takemichi and Mikey.

“Today, I called everyone here to announce the disbandment of Toman.” Mikey confessed, a slight smile still on his lips as he scanned the spacious ground that was fully occupied a mere moment ago. “I thought about it, the future you told me. No matter what timelines, something always goes badly. The root of it all is me. Toman goes bad because I go bad. I thought that by disbanding Toman, everyone will still be able to live a happy life even when I inevitably fall into darkness.”

Takemichi almost stopped breathing. He had a hard time believing his ears. Mikey loved Toman. This gang was his pride and dream, but he was ready to throw all that hard work and passion away to ensure that everyone he cared about would have a good life.

“Mikey-kun...”

“But you give me hope. You changed my mind,” he continued, tearing his focus from the ground beneath the steps, and looked at Takemichi with pleading eyes. “That’s why, Takemitchy, when you think I am losing myself. You definitely have to scold me and bring me back, okay?”

Mikey’s stability was his responsibility now, but Takemichi was up to the task. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked straight at his leader and friend. “I will, Mikey-kun! Definitely!” He yelled confidently, putting all his determination into the sentence that he uttered.

Takemichi was rewarded with a big, wide smile that he had been longing to see on Mikey’s face. Mikey’s eyebrows smoothened, losing the sharpness that had permanently been etched onto them for a few seconds as the corner of his eyes relaxed with the movement of his cheeks. This Mikey was glowing, moonlight reflecting on the snow in his hair.

“You’re my hero, Takemitchy.”

歩いていこう歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

傷ついても何度も信じたいよ

Even if I get hurt, I want to believe, no matter how many times.

この手をこの日々を君と泣いて君と笑って僕は強くなれたんだろう

Within these hands, within these days, crying with you, laughing with you, has made me stronger.

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

[END]

#TokyoRevengers #東卍 #東リベ #東京卍リベンジャーズ #mikey x takemichi #hinata x takemichi #tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #sano manjiro #takemichi hanagaki #hinata tachibana #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo manji revengers #Youtube

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dilliebar · 4 years ago

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Scraps: A Dillie Fic

Hey guys! I’m happy to announce that I’ve finally posted the first chapter of Scraps (aka “The Farm Fic”). This one will be multi-chapter, and I’m looking at 5-10k words per ch so hopefully that’ll be worth the wait. Anyway, here you are, hope you enjoy!

Months after Joel's death, and a couple months after the confrontation in Seattle, Ellie and Dina find themselves moving out of Jackson and to the farm: a place where they hope to start their new life and family. But even though their lives were spared, not all is well. Ellie still struggles with her inner-demons and the pressures of the ghosts that haunt her, and with how her mind wanders, she's not sure how long the peace will last.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317292/chapters/61382233

Sunday, May 9th, 2038

The dark, dingey atmosphere and cold air biting at Ellie's nose told her exactly where she was. She'd lived it only once, but had seen it a million times before in her darkest memories and worst nightmares. But this was no dream; she was convinced by every small detail of the rustic mansion- every frosted pattern on iced glass, every crack in the layer of paint, and every anguished cry from the bottom of the staircase- that this was real. He was down there, in the basement. Joel was down there, and she had to save him.

She ran down the stairs as fast as her feet could carry her. Each step seemingly took years to pass, the fear and sheer panic coursing through her veins and making her skin hurt. After what felt like a painful forever she reached the basement door, throat dry and lungs gasping for air. She wrapped her fingers around the cold door handle and turned it with her very last ounce of energy, only to be denied by the lock. She tried again and again and again, each time making the panic set deeper and deeper into her bones.

"Ellie!"

Joel's strained voice called from the other side. Dammit, she was trying. She was trying like her life depended on it, but the door wouldn't budge. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as another tormented cry of her name filled the silence between her sobs.

Suddenly the door gave way after what felt like the thousandth turn, her heart dropping at the sight in front of her. The room was empty except for Joel's still, bloodied and beaten body lying motionless on the hardwood floor. The smell of iron filled her lungs that were previously desperate for air, only to find herself begging for them to empty again. She watched as his lips parted slowly to mutter their final words.

"Ellie!"

All she felt now was a pair of hands gripping her shoulders. All she saw was red. All that her rapid heartbeat pumped through her veins was adrenaline and agony and rage. The voice that called her name didn't register. She pushed away in desperation. She had to get to Joel. Maybe she could still save him.

"Get the fuck off me!"

But her captor wouldn't budge. With sheer distress she pulled their hands off of her shoulders and went to push them away, only to be quickly met with two soft, familiar hands cupping the sides of her face.

"Ellie," the voice said, softer and calmer. It was familiar, too, yet she couldn't quite place the sweet sound. She grabbed their wrists tightly in an attempt to pull them off of her as the red began to fade from her vision, but stopped as she processed the girl sitting in front of her.

She was met with two big, concerned, dark-brown eyes; the pair that she always associated with not hate nor violence, but both gentleness and a tender touch; the warm-toned skin that felt soft underneath her fingertips; the near-black hair that smelled of life and lavender. Dina. Her presence alone made Ellie’s heart rate slow.

Confused at the sudden change of scenery, she took a look around the room. The walls were a faded eggshell white, with one window directly facing the bed, allowing the moonlight to cast a pale glow on the scene. Cardboard boxes- most sealed and unopened- were labeled and organized in stacks on the wood floor; linen; Ellie; Dina; decor and some unmarked. She looked back into the shorter girl’s eyes.

“We’re home, El,” she whispered softly, “do you remember?”

Gentle thumbs brushed the skin of Ellie’s face as her heart and breathing slowed. She didn’t quite recognize the room. Not as her room in Jackson, anyway. She looked to the window, and to her surprise, didn’t find the suburban-like view of the town outside. Instead she saw a field of long golden grass, the tops of great pines, an old, rusted fence…

“The farm,” Dina confirmed, “we moved a couple weeks ago.”

Ellie’s memory came flooding back at her girlfriend’s words.

The couple had been mulling over living in town since they left seattle. They knew they’d want to stay near family, or more so Jesse’s parents considering the baby, but how could they live in Jackson after all that had happened? How could they walk past Joel or Jesse’s old houses without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt? How could they rebuild their life there at all? They needed peace. They needed a home. They needed a new beginning.

Of course, Jesse’s parents were completely against the idea of moving away from Jackson. They had a right to be concerned, but after all, the farm was only about ten minutes or so outside of town, close enough that if there was ever an emergency they could get help as needed. Ellie had her own concerns, too, like how they would deliver the baby with only a blanket and her 7th grade health class military prep, but Dina assured her it would be fine, and Ellie believed her. As long as she was with Dina she knew everything would be alright.

And life back in Jackson county so far had, in fact, been alright. But what wouldn’t stop picking away at Ellier were these constant nightmares. Each one made her feel as if she were living it again. As if the blood splatters across frosted glass weren’t illustrated by the depths of her mind. As if she wouldn’t wake up again, that she would die in that basement and never see Dina or Tommy or Maria again. This was the fourth one she’d had since they arrived in Jackson. Ellie thought the move would help, that the absence of reminders of Joel would help ease her anxiety, but alas, she had woken Dina up in the middle of the night for the fourth time.

Ellie let go of Dina's small wrists and leaned into the tender touch of her girlfriend; she was the only thing in the world that seemed soft anymore. The only thing that seemed solid. Her body sighed as Dina lifted her thumb to wipe away a tear that Ellie didn't even realize had welled.

"Did you have another one?"

Ellie hated when Dina had to see her this way. She hated being vulnerable. She hated how she kept interrupting Dina's well-deserved and needed rest. The mental toll her own mind was taking on her was overwhelming, but she wouldn't allow it to affect Dina if it was the last thing she did. After all the unnecessary hell she went through just to be there for Ellie, she was convinced that she shouldn't have to deal with this, too.

She nodded, "I'm okay."

Dina looked unconvinced.

"Ellie, your hands are shaking."

She shook her head and clenched her fists into the sheets.

"I said I'm fine."

Ellie kept her gaze down but she could feel her girlfriend’s eyes on her, examining. She prayed that Dina would just let it go, that she would go back to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

The smaller girl's hand found its way under Ellie's chin, tilting her head up to look into those beautiful emerald eyes.

"I'm here for you, El."

Dina closed her eyes and leaned in to place a tender kiss on auburn hair before moving back to the right side of the bed and tucking herself back under the covers.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, watching the girl settle back into the clean white sheets. She studied how they fit around the curves of her body, and how each strand of dark hair contrasted against the pillows. Sometimes, or more like all the time, Ellie wondered how someone like herself could end up with such a beautiful soul. She'd killed how many men? Taken how many lives? She had almost stopped at nothing to bring down one measly person, and despite the fact that the bitch still made her blood boil, the innocent part of Ellie couldn't find herself wanting anything more than this girl lying next to her. Not even vengeance.

But the hardened part of herself wouldn't leave her alone. It didn't just want blood, it wanted to be the one to spill it.

Ellie took a deep breath and turned over on her side, reaching an arm around the smaller girl's waist and pulling her in to fit their bodies together. She brought her pointer finger up to her girlfriend's arm, gently tracing patterns on soft skin until she slowly felt the bad thoughts melt away one by one. She did her best not to bother the sleeping girl, and continued on to draw her finger on her neck, and then down to her shoulder, until she saw it.

The scar.

It was about two inches long, and ran along the back of Dina’s right shoulder. It had healed for the most part, but the line was still red and angry.

“Almost done.”

Ellie noticed Dina wince as the needle pierced her skin again. She was trying her best to stitch up the arrow wound as steady as possible, but with one broken arm, it was proving to be a difficult task whenever the smaller girl would flinch and she wasn’t able to hold her still.

“How’s Tommy doing?”

Ellie looked behind her to where Tommy was resting on his backpack and one of the old leather sofas.

“Should be alright, the bullet didn’t go too deep.”

As much as it brought back bad memories, with everyone’s current condition there was no way they’d be able to leave the theater and make it back to Jackson alive. It was already going to be difficult enough with Dina being pregnant and all, but on top of that, she had also lost a lot of blood and probably had at least a minor concussion. Tommy’s right eye was shot to fuck, and he’d barely been able to walk ever since the confrontation. If that weren’t bad enough, Ellie had this broken arm to show for it, too. She wondered how they would even get back at all with the little medical supplies they had.

Ellie leaned forward and bit off the excess string.

“All done.”

Dina sighed and relaxed her shoulders.

“Thanks babe.”

The pair had tried to pack light, so extra clothes weren’t really a priority when they left Jackson, but they were able to scrounge up some ones without blood on them from around the place. Most of the clothes- or costumes- were fancy dresses or black-tie attire, but the last guy who set up camp there left quite a bit of things behind, too. Ellie grabbed a black tee for herself and a blue hoodie for Dina, which she helped to slip over her arms amidst pained groans.

The memory of the night before still haunted her. It used to be Joel’s face that lurked in her mind, but now it was Dina’s. The arrow through her shoulder. The sound as her head banged against the floor. The knife held to her throat by a muscular arm. It only made her more hungry for blood, but she also knew that she had a responsibility to Dina, Tommy, and Jesse that she had to fulfill.

“Ellie?”

She sighed and packed the rest of the medical supplies away as the tender voice broke through her tortured thoughts.

“Hm?”

Ellie’s muscles relaxed as Dina stood and wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s waist from behind, leaning in and resting her head in the crook of her neck. She was grateful; god, she was so grateful. But something still didn’t sit right for Ellie. They had come all this way, gone through so much hurt and for what? For the father of Dina’s unborn child to die? For Tommy to be permanently injured? Sure, they had killed some of the people associated with Joel’s death, but not the one to give the final blow. It was like starving, finally finding a meal but settling for a side. Unsatisfying and disappointing.

“I can’t go back there.”

The shaky words tugged at Ellie’s chest. They had so many great memories in Jackson. It was where they first met. Where Ellie first played a video game. Where she first watched a movie. Where she got her first tattoo. Where they first laughed and hung out together, and where they’d first kissed. They’d had a semi-normal life; one like Joel had described. One where people roamed the streets, no one was struggling to survive, and there was a sense of both community and safety. Jackson was their home, but it had also been Jesse’s, and Joel’s, and they both knew that they wouldn’t be able to escape the guilt as they saw their ghosts mingling at the bar or dancing and laughing under string lights at the winter dance. It was too much; at least for now.

Ellie turned around and pulled Dina into a loving embrace.

“I know.”

Crisp air whispered through the towering firs, grass rustling underneath Ellie’s feet as she whisked herself into the woods. She left while Dina was still sleeping, hoping they wouldn’t have to talk about last night like she knew her girlfriend desperately wanted to. She felt bad, knowing that all Dina wanted to do was help, but they were both grieving in different ways, and right now Ellie didn’t know if she could bring herself to even think about the subject more than her mind forced her to. So she left a note, so hopefully Dina wouldn’t worry, and assured her that she’d be back for dinner, hopefully with something other than canned tomato soup to eat.

Ellie held the notch of the arrow up to the string, making sure to keep it ready in case any critters decided to show themselves. Fall was beginning to fade into winter; the air was starting to turn chilly and frost made an appearance on the grass in the early morning before melting away under the semi-warm, overcast sun. Even as the cold air bit at her nose, Ellie found herself at peace deep in the tall trees. Maybe it was the quietness of it all; how calm everything seemed to be, with nothing but the chirping of the warblers and the sway of branches filling the autumn air; maybe the openness, how any and all structure was overtaken by the brush and roots of the forest; but most of all it was the familiarity. Though her and Joel had spent so many days and nights meandering their way in and out of cities and small towns, most of their travel was spent in the wilderness, which was something she'd always admired and appreciated ever since she left the QZ.

She solemnly dug through the memories of setting up camp after a long day of hiking, where she would gather the wood for a campfire while Joel scouted the area and set up traps. She remembered vividly each tiny detail and sidetrack he fit into his stories of his life back in Boston, and sometimes, but rarely, of his travels and life before the outbreak. She remembered back then how she had so many questions. It pained her to think that over the past few years she had distanced herself too much to ask more. Now his answers and stories were all she wanted, but instead she was left with nothing but a flat grave and her own imagination.

A rustling from the brush beside her caught her ear and pulled her from her thoughts.

Ellie crouched down in the grass to make herself less visible and nocked the arrow, keeping a keen eye in the direction of the noise. She watched for any and all movement, a tactic that had grown to be second nature to her over the years. She waited patiently until she saw it: a small rabbit peeking out from above the grass. She raised the bow and pulled back on the string, holding her breath to take aim. For a split second before she released the arrow the little creature turned its head in her direction, its black eyes meeting hers. She felt a tinge of mercy in her chest before hands began to shake and she released the arrow, missing the animal and sending it running by mere inches. She cursed under her breath before standing to retrieve her arrow and continued into the quiet depths of the woods.

“We got everything?”

Dina helped Ellie slip her backpack over her shoulders before turning to give Tommy a small nod in response. It had been a couple weeks since the confrontation with Abby. Everyone was still in a world of hurt, but the tension between the scars and the WLF was growing day by day, and supplies were becoming more and more scarce. It was only a matter of time before they were blocked off from leaving Seattle completely, and without any means of travel other than their own two feet, making it back to Jackson in one piece would be much, much harder; they had to move, now.

“Should be it, unless we want to bring sparky from the roof along with us.”

Despite the tension in the air Ellie released a small puff of laughter, earning both of them a glare from Tommy’s one good eye. Ellie knew he didn’t want to leave Seattle. She didn’t want to, either. But he couldn’t fight, she couldn’t fight, and Dina’s condition was getting worse day by day. They had already lost one of them, it would be irrational to keep running after this girl and lose another, right?

The trio made their way out of the front door, making sure to keep an eye on the nearby buildings and cover. There was no telling what, or who, was lurking in the shadows anymore. Any fight at this point was a death sentence.

“Main gate’s this way,” Tommy noted, opening the map, “though we best sneak out the east jus’ like last week.”

“Still no guards?” Ellie asked.

“Not as far as I heard over that radio.”

Ellie shrugged and nodded. The main gate would be impossible to get through with all the trouble they had to go through just to get into the QZ. She began to follow Tommy before she felt a tug on her good arm.

“El’s?”

She turned around to meet a pair of sad brown eyes, brimming with tears sparkling like polished glass. As much as they wanted to leave, they also wanted to stay. Not just for the vengeance of Joel, but for Jesse now, too. Ellie wanted it. Dina wanted it. Tommy wanted it. But it wasn’t about them now. It was about their child; someone who would carry on the legacy of that brave friend and father; it was about their family. They were a family now, no matter what, and anything outside of that would have to wait.

“What’s up?”

She watched as Dina blinked tears away from her eyes.

“Can we stop for him?”

Ellie felt her heart ache at the unevenness of her voice.

“Of course.”

They had wanted to bring Jesse’s body back to Jackson, back to his parents, back to where their child would grow up. But frankly without a horse there was no way they’d be able to, not to mention the trip would take maybe a month or two. Having to see his body like that wouldn’t be good for any of them, or for him out of respect. The least they could do was give him a proper funeral somewhere nice, somewhere he could rest, where when they buried him, he would still be the man that everyone remembered so dearly.

They buried him along the same route Ellie and Dina had taken to Seattle, off the side of the main road by the overgrown bus stop where the sunlight broke through the trees and would be easy to find if and when they came back to see him again. They marked the fresh mound by lining it with rocks, and neatly folded up his bloodied jacket, slipping it into one of the clothing bags from the theater and setting it underneath one of the bigger stones at the head of his grave. It wasn’t fancy, but Dina, having a decently vast knowledge of her religion, was able to send Jesse off the best way she knew how.

They stopped at his grave again as they passed through the area to head back to Jackson, at Dina’s request.

Ellie watched as Dina leaned down and took some of the freshly-turned dirt in her hand, squeezing it gently before letting it fall through her fingers. Her breath remained shaken as she took the rock off of the garment bag, unzipping it and bringing Jesse’s coat to her chest to feel his presence one last time. Ellie listened closely as her girlfriend began to whisper a small prayer under her breath in a language she couldn’t understand.

At first when Dina had described her religion in the synagogue, Ellie found herself intrigued. She didn’t just want to know how something as simple as a string of words to someone unknowable could help, but she desperately wanted it to. She had even tried it a couple of times; she tried it on their first night in Seattle, when she found out Dina was pregnant and she said poisonous things and she prayed for everything to be okay; she tried it after she killed Nora, when she was begging for forgiveness to anyone who would hear her; she tried it after she killed Mel, a pregnant woman, which was something she could never forget or forgive herself for but maybe a higher, more perfect being could. At first it did make her feel better to know, or at least make herself think, that there was something greater than all of this bullshit out there. But then, after seeing Dina’s bloodied face and body with a knife held up to her neck, she came to the conclusion that any “perfect being” would never allow that bullshit to happen.

But she wouldn’t tell Dina that. Not when it was the only thing she clinged to for hope.

When Ellie got home it was around mid-afternoon, and she could see smoke coming from the chimney. Despite how dark her mind was, she couldn't help but feel her heart warm at the thought of having a place to come home to, a person to come home to. It was something she'd always wanted but also thought she'd never have the chance to get, especially after they left Boston. The more she thought about it as she approached the front door the more guilty she felt.

What if I was that person to him?

A chill ran down her spine and all that warmth that previously filled her heart began to fuel her guilt. For the last year that Joel had been in her life, she had barely acknowledged that he even existed. She had been his home. For the longest time, he had been hers, as much as her angry self hated to admit it back then. All of the stupid dad jokes, his fatherly, protective demeanor, their unbreakable bond; all of that was taken away within minutes, and not a year later, here she was, attempting to start over and forget that it ever happened or that he ever existed.

I don't deserve her.

When Ellie walked in she immediately noticed her girlfriend on the couch, beautiful as ever with her little baby bump and frazzled head of hair.

"Hey," she greeted with a sweet smile.

Ellie set her backpack down by the door and leaned down to place a fragile kiss atop Dina's head.

"Sorry, I was gone a bit longer than I planned."

"You're alright, I was just taking a break from dishes," Dina paused, attempting to read her girlfriend with concerned eyes as the mood shifted, "everything alright?"

Ellie knew what she was referring to. It was the reason she'd gone out in the first place. She didn't want to talk about it then and she didn't want to talk about it now.

She shrugged it off as she untied the couple squirrels she caught from her bag.

"Everything's fine, just needed something for dinner."

Even with her half-hearted response Ellie could still feel the smaller girl's eyes on her. They were pressing, piercing, and probing every emotion she had left in her. But like she said, everything was fine. She just needed more time.

"You sure?"

Ellie shook her head to herself, her walls going up as she tried to avoid the conversation yet again.

"I'm fine."

Dina shifted on the couch.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, and that's fine, but-"

"Dina."

Her tone was calm but firm; enough to tell her girlfriend to take a step back but tender enough to let her know it wasn't personal. Frankly Ellie hated telling Dina to back off, because she knew she was lucky to have any sort of support at all, but this was the one thing she felt too guilty and pained about to ever bring up to anyone when she needed care the most.

Ellie stood up, squirrels in hand. She made her way to the kitchen before turning back to the girl on the couch.

"I'm gonna go work outside,"

Dina looked up, meeting her girlfriend's eyes just briefly before nodding in response.

Work life on the farm was pretty dull, but relaxing for the couple. Ellie had settled on doing the majority of the manual labor or most work outside, really, like making sure the sheep were well-fed and that the crops were growing as they should. Dina would always do her best to help, although with how the pregnancy had been affecting her body, most days she'd end up doing some of the household chores and preparing anything that Ellie happened to bring home when she went out hunting. The rest of the day they'd spend together, whether they were cuddled up under the stars or dancing in the living room, just as they'd always wanted to be, now and forever.

Working the garden didn’t take too long since they only really grew enough to sustain themselves, and even then the plants were just little saplings considering they’d only been there for a little over a week; for now they mainly relied on non-perishables and the little fresh vegetables they’d brought from Jackson, and the food that Ellie brought home of course. It didn’t take long for her to round up the couple of lambs Maria was willing to spare, either, and by the time she was done the sun was just setting.

And so Ellie finished up, brushed off her jeans and wiped the mud off her shoes before making her way back inside the kitchen where her beautiful, exceedingly patient girlfriend had dishes in the sink and the squirrels she’d caught on the cutting board. She felt a tinge of pain in her heart as she thought of how she’d snapped earlier. Ellie didn’t want to push her away. She knew Dina didn’t want her to push her away. They needed each other more than anything, but Ellie could barely think of Joel without breaking down, let alone talk about him.

And yet, despite everything, Dina stayed by her side.

Ellie felt her body warm as those brown irises met her own, bright and sparkling as ever. There was something different about them; something different than before that day in Seattle. It was the absence of the carefree, fun, glowing light behind her eyes. The one that put everyone at ease, yet so on-edge at the same time. Instead of being sharp and direct and sarcastic, it was soft, and concerned, and forgiving.

She walked up behind the smaller girl and wrapped those strong arms around her waist, pulling her in and planting a kiss on that soft neck of hers.

“I love you,” Ellie said, just above a whisper.

Dina closed her eyes and leaned back into her girlfriend’s touch, allowing herself to revel in the rare softness of the hardened girl. Before Abby, Ellie had always been shy but always so warm. And in all fairness, she still was, but the grief and trauma over the past couple months had overcome her like a thick ice. No matter how much Dina tried to dig at her, she wasn’t revealing any of the water below, and it was both frustrating and disheartening to see her not just ice out the people of Jackson, but herself as well. They had always been close, ever since the day Ellie arrived in Jackson. But now Dina felt like they were a million miles apart, and she had no idea what to do about it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said calmly, “but don’t leave without telling me like that.”

She felt the taller girl release a sigh against her shoulder, contemplating for a moment before speaking.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Dina turned around in Ellie’s arms and moved her hands up to cup her girlfriend’s face with a tender touch. She studied those deep-green emerald eyes, searching for any sign of the emotional openness Dina had been looking for since they’d left Seattle. Something was there. It was an understanding; a glimmer of hope in that mossy ring; something that told her that the innocence and goodness Ellie once had was still in there somewhere, hiding underneath, but still very much there.

She leaned up on her tip-toes to plant a brief kiss on her girlfriend’s soft lips before pulling back.

“Tommy and Maria mentioned they wanted to come over for dinner,” Dina switched the topic, “kind of like a house-warming thing.”

Ellie groaned.

“Doesn’t the fireplace warm it enough?”

The shorter girl playfully rolled her eyes and pushed her girlfriend away from her. “Go wash up, you look like Todd out there.”

Ellie scoffed as she turned to head out of the kitchen.

“Alright, but you didn’t just kiss Todd so I’d like to think I’ve got something on him.”

“You wish.”

It took them nearly twice as long to get back to Jackson as it took them to get to Seattle. Ellie was fairly mobile and her arm was healing nicely, but breaks had to be much more frequent for the sake of Tommy and Dina. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d stayed up with the pregnant girl, comforting her in any way she could and helping her to keep water and food down. Tommy’s gunshot wound appeared to be healing just fine, but his leg still wasn’t managing to function as well as it used to. As much as she hated to think it, it was very well possible that the damage was permanent, but all that mattered was getting back to Jackson in one piece.

It was the fourth week, second afternoon of their trip when they finally saw the lights of Jackson appear over the grassy Wyoming hills.

Almost in-sync, the trio stopped side-by-side, looking down on the settlement which used to be their safe-haven; their serenity; their home. For Ellie, it was a curse in disguise. A seemingly perfect community where all of the troubles of the outside world would melt away suddenly became a barren wasteland that led her family- her father- to his demise. For Dina, it was the place that had raised her since the age of twelve. She had seen the horrors of the outside world, but now she had seen the pure darkness behind it. Now all she saw were four walls filled with distractions; things to keep everyone’s minds off the fact that there were people out there suffering while they wasted away in front of their televisions and danced along to music of the old days. All Tommy saw were his broken hopes and dreams. Jackson was supposed to be a second-chance; a place for people to redeem themselves and finally live a rare, peaceful life. Now he realized that the only place for redemption was outside the wall, where vengeance could be taken and revenge could be had.

Ellie felt a soft hand grip her calloused one, and she turned her head to see a teary-eyed Dina.

“I’m not ready.”

The taller girl felt her heart ache at the three words. She squeezed the small hand reassuringly.

“Me neither.”

The three of them made their way down the hill, past the old gas station, through the brush and through the golden grass. They took note of the fresh horse tracks, signaling the first friendly presence they’d seen in months. Ellie continued to squeeze Dina’s hand as they made their way past the last line of trees, and took a deep breath as the main gate came into view.

“Open the gates! They’re back!”

As they approached the wall Ellie kept her eyes down, not out of sadness but out of shame. How could she look Jesse’s parents in the eyes and tell them he was gone? All because she decided to leave; all because they hadn’t been more careful; all because Ellie couldn’t help but make one last swing at the woman who killed her father.

She had no clue, but she would have to do it sooner or later, for Dina’s sake.

The gates opened, and Dina was the first to be bombarded by warm embraces from Jesse’s mother and father. Tears rolled down red cheeks and sobs were heard among them, but all Ellie heard was a muffled ringing in her ears. She could feel their sad, grieving eyes on the side of her face, begging for an answer that told them their son wasn’t gone. Something that could give them hope. But she couldn’t. All she could muster was a pained “I’m sorry” as his mother’s cries grew louder.

The next to appear by the gate was Maria, but unlike Jesse’s parents, stayed there, waiting for Tommy to approach her. Ellie looked to him, seeing the pain ridden on his face as he went to take his first limping step forward, but she stopped him.

“Tommy,”

Ellie shook her head as he looked up to her. She thought for a moment, pondering what she would even say to him. They had left for one purpose and one purpose only: to seek vengeance, and not only had they not accomplished that, but they had even more of a reason to seek revenge now more than ever.

Slowly she brought her eyes up to meet him.

“I’ll make her pay.”

“So how’s it been out here?” Maria asked, “Farm life been treating you two nice?”

Dina smiled as she set the portions down on the table in front of them, taking her seat down next to Ellie.

She poked at her food as Dina and Maria went back and forth about the ins-and-outs of their life so far on the farm. In all honesty there wasn’t really much to talk about. Since Jackson sent out patrols every so often there wasn’t really any issue with infected around the area, and even if there was a straggler or two they weren’t two difficult to get rid of silently.

And then they went on about Jackson, how everyone was doing, how Jesse’s parents were. And of course the conversation shifted to the inevitable topic of Dina’s pregnancy. Since they had gotten back to Jackson she had been doing much better, especially now that they had access to medicine and heat and decent amounts of food. But the further along she got the more Ellie realized that there was one thing she wouldn’t be able to do.

Ellie couldn’t help but notice how quiet Tommy was as he sat across from her, barely even sneezing at the plate of food in front of him as the tension in the air grew more and more thick. She knew he was antsy to get back out there; to go find Abby yet again, and she was, too. But she had a family now. She had a responsibility to Dina and to Jesse. She couldn’t just up-and-leave. But no matter what, she would never place the blame for that on Dina. And she’d make sure Tommy didn’t put that pressure on her, either. Certainly not in their home.

“We’ve been talking about names,” Ellie finally interjected, “any suggestions?”

Maria pondered for a moment.

“Well I’ve got a few, but just in case, I think I might save those for myself.”

Ellie waited and gave Tommy one last chance to not be a dick before deciding to include him in the conversation whether he wanted to or not.

“Tommy? Any suggestions?”

She watched as he visibly scoffed before crossing his arms over his chest and looking up to meet Ellie’s eyes. There was a tangible frustration in his eyes; like he knew that this quest for revenge was coming to an end. She held his stare, silently daring him to make a snide comment towards Dina.

“So you’re keepin’ it, huh?”

The blood boiled in Ellie’s veins as she pushed her plate aside and leaned forward on her elbows.

“Yes. Is that a problem for you?”

Dina leaned forward to place a calming hand on Ellie’s shoulder, lightly attempting to pull her back and de-escalate the situation. But as far as Ellie was concerned, no one was going to come into their house and talk to the mother of her child like that.

Tommy stood from his chair, loudly scooting it back and practically throwing his fork down on the table.

“You want some names? I got plenty for ya.”

Ellie stood up to meet his eyes along with Maria, who already had two hands on him and was gently pushing him towards the door. He turned to her and brushed her hands away, then heading out the front door.

“I’m already goin’.”

At first the three of them stood in shock, appalled by the suggestion that he’d just made. This was their child. It was Jesse’s child at that. Even if Jesse were alive, it was completely Dina’s choice as to what she wanted to do, and she wanted to keep it. And if that’s what she wanted to do, Ellie would be there for her every step of the way, and would support the hell out of that kid as if they were her own, because they were a family now.

Before she knew it, Ellie felt her feet carrying her outside while Dina called out for her to stop, but she couldn’t feel or hear anything over the rage and blood coursing through her veins.

“You fucking asshole.”

Tommy turned from the knot in his horse’s lead to respond.

“Right, I’m the asshole,” he shook his head, “I’m the asshole for keepin’ my goddamn word? Is that it?”

Ellie shoved her hands against his chest, full-force.

“Don’t you fucking dare-”

“I’m not the one out here tryna forget the man who raised me ever walked this goddamn earth.”

The mention of Joel shook her, and she took a step back.

“But what’d I expect?” he scoffed and deepened his tone, “He raised one selfish child.”

And then she saw his face; the last time she’d ever seen him.

Without thinking Ellie cocked her fist, fully intending to deliver a well-deserved punch to the good side of his head before she felt two soft hands pulling back on her shoulders. She kept her eyes locked on the asshole in front of her even as her girlfriend came into view and held both sides of her face, trying her best to distract her.

“Ellie? Ellie.”

She watched as Maria stepped in front of Tommy, telling him quietly to back off. When he was out of view she brought her eyes back to Dina, who was looking at her with a deep sense of concern and worry. Her heart rate began to slow, but she was nowhere near calm.

Ellie scoffed and pushed back from her girlfriend’s grip, stomping her way back inside and up the stairs until she got to their room, slamming the door behind her and sitting herself down on the white bedsheets. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, face in her hands as tears began to brim at the corners of her eyes.

As much as Tommy pissed her off, there was an aching in Ellie’s chest that told her he was right; that she hadn’t kept her word; that everything she did was for nothing, and to stop now would be an insult to Joel and his memory; that she didn’t deserve this seemingly perfect life with Dina and their soon-to-be child. No matter how many times Dina told her it wasn’t her fault, she still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt.

She still saw their faces. She saw Joel’s face, battered and bloodied, as the lids of his eyes parted one last time for their eyes to meet before that bitch brought the club down. She saw Tommy’s face, unconscious and helpless as the scene played out in front of their eyes. She saw Jesse’s, one of the best friends she’d ever had, lifelessly splayed across the theater floor with a bullet wound through his cheek. And she saw Dina's face, the love of her life, seconds from death, who if she lost she would lose her mind and her life along with it.

Ellie looked up through glossy eyes as she heard a soft creak from the bedroom door.

“El’s?”

Ellie wiped the tears from her eyes and attempted to slow her breathing as they continued to spill. She didn’t want Dina to see her like this; so helplessly lost. But the smaller girl sat next to her anyway, rubbing a comforting hand on her back.

“He didn’t mean it,” she whispered, “it’s just a lot right now.”

Ellie shook her head and hid her face in her hands.

“He’s right.”

Dina’s heart ached as her girlfriend’s voice cracked. It pained her to see her like this, but she would always be there for her in any way that she could. Slowly Dina brought her hands to the sides of Ellie’s tear-struck face and gently turned it to look at her.

“Hey,” she said, looking deep and genuine into those emerald eyes, “You’re allowed to be happy.”

That’s when the dam broke, and every bad thought and emotion that Ellie had been withholding came flooding through the gates in the form of anguished sobs. She let Dina pull her into her chest, allowing herself the only emotional release she’d had in months.

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

She told herself she didn’t deserve this, that she didn’t deserve her girlfriend’s warmth, but she was crying so hard she didn’t think she would be able to stop even if she really wanted to. Everything that built up to this, every slit throat, every harsh word, every cruel thought didn’t release her anger or grief. It was this. The few times, this being the first, that she allowed herself to be vulnerable to the one that she loved. At the end of the day, maybe she didn’t deserve it, but Dina chose to stand by her anyway, and after everything that happened, Ellie decided that she would never aim to take advantage of that ever again.

They stayed like that for a while, Dina rocking Ellie back and forth as she let her emotions flow, as the tears soaked into the smaller girl’s shirt and her girlfriend’s body grew less and less tense until the tears stopped. Ellie gave in as Dina pulled the warm covers over them, and they held each other as they drifted off to sleep.

But before Ellie let the exhaustion overtake her, she let her mind wander. Usually it took her to the darkest of places, but now she could see something a bit brighter; a future in which things weren’t so grim after all.

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sachigram · 4 years ago

Note

I think a lot about Hearts Like Ours because I've been wanting to comment on the last chapter since it came out and I finally think I can. On another note, I read that "send me some Shizaya prompts you'd like to see! Who knows, maybe I'll write a few" please, don't feel obligated at all, but I can't write myself and I've been thinking about a story for a long time, about Izaya being in love with Shizuo since Highschool but extremely hurt because he hated him on sight, and then on present time +

“And then on present time Izaya finds out that someone is going to hurt Kasuka, Shizuo doesn't answer his phone so Izaya goes to the place himself and without thinking puts himself between Kasuka and the guy who has going to stab him, Kasuka takes him to Shinra and after this Shizuo gets obsessed with trying to know why Izaya would almost die for Kasuka.”

For you, @murasaki19! I wrote this very quickly, and I am sure there are errors, but I hope it cheers you up! <3 Your reviews mean a lot to me, and I’ve missed seeing your name in my notes. I’m always around if you need to talk!

It happens by accident, really.

Izaya keeps tabs on everyone and everything; it's part of his informant position. Even the most trivial of information can be useful later, like pawns making it across the chessboard. Honestly, it has nothing to do with Shizuo or his family. Still, Izaya stumbles across a plot to kidnap Kasuka, and wars with himself on what to do about it.

On one hand, he hates Shizuo, and therefore, he hates Kasuka. He should revel in the idea of Kasuka being killed or worse, should love the thought of the anguish it would cause Shizuo to lose his precious baby brother.

On the other hand, Izaya has sisters, and he knows Shizuo has helped keep them out of trouble more than a few times, even while hating Izaya.

Something else entirely, Izaya doesn't want Shizuo to lose Kasuka, and it makes Izaya so sick of himself that he can't even look at his reflection on his dark phone screen.

“Fuck,” he mutters, shoving back from his computer. He picks up his phone, goes to Shizuo's contact, hesitates. He can call Shizuo and let the beast handle it. Whether Shizuo believes him or not, Izaya can say he tried, and that should settle his conscience, right? It should be the end of Izaya's involvement.

He presses the 'call' button. It rings once, and then goes to voicemail, and Izaya clenches his teeth, knowing Shizuo ignored the call and likely would delete a voicemail before listening to it. Izaya can't blame him, but still, being ignored always pisses Izaya off beyond anything else.

“Should just let him lose his fucking brother,” Izaya grumbles to no one. Namie left for the day, and no one else will be coming by. Shinra likely would ignore a call from Izaya as well. He's alone in this, as he normally is.

For once, he finally feels the emptiness.

***

He's in the city— He doesn't have a clue what he's doing.

The men who are going to take Kasuka have his work schedule figured out. It's not hard to attain information like that, as long as you know the right people. Izaya himself buys most of his information, and turns around and sells it to whoever asks. It's possible some of these men work with Kasuka, or some of them could have hacked into his file, his schedule, his manager's schedules. Something like this just happened with Kasuka's little girlfriend, right? And then Shinra got attacked. Everyone should have learned a lesson from that, but...

“The more things change,” Izaya mutters aloud.

“Hello?” A man's voice answers him. Izaya sighs, realizing Kasuka heard him and is addressing him. Kasuka is alone— Why is he alone? Where's security? Where's the driver? The car is parked, so where is the fucking driver? “Oh. Orihara-san?”

“Yes,” Izaya says, quieting the questions zipping through his mind. He has an image to maintain, if nothing else, and even if he wasn't consciously planning on coming here, he's here now, and he has to make it look like he meant to be.

“Did you...need something?” Kasuka asks, and Izaya can only imagine how confused Kasuka must be. He's heard awful things for years about Izaya, true things, and all Kasuka knows is that Izaya hates Shizuo, and Shizuo hates Izaya.

“Why are you alone?” Izaya asks, stalling. He moves away from the wall he was leaning against and inches closer to Kasuka.

“My driver is across the street, grabbing to-go food. The guards are right by the door,” Kasuka says in his usual bored tone.

“Inside isn't close enough to stop something from happening,” Izaya says, and Kasuka tilts his head.

“Are you going to attack me or something?”

“I'm only saying, it would be better for you to have someone around, anyone.” Izaya looks over his shoulder, paranoid. He doesn't care about what happens to Kasuka. He's told himself that over and over, and yet, here he is.

“Well. You're here,” Kasuka says with a shrug. “And my driver will be right back.”

Izaya is about to answer and say something along the lines of, 'why wouldn't a big celebrity have his own bodyguards?', or, 'isn't your girlfriend some kind of monster with inhuman strength?', but he doesn't get the chance. Everything happens so fast from there, and even afterwards, Izaya still doesn't know what exactly happened.

All he knows is, he wakes up at Shinra's, and there's a hole in his stomach.

***

“I'm just. I'm floored, you know? I'm totally flabbergasted!” Shinra says jovially as he applies something to Izaya's wound. “Kasuka-san called me and was as close to panicking as can be allowed. He hasn't sounded like that since Hijiribe-san got injured. He drove you here and said you took a knife for him! Could it be that my influence from all those years ago rubbed off on you?”

“Would you please stop talking?” Izaya asks, irritated for many reasons, one of which being Shinra's voice. He has another scar from a knife wound. Izaya doesn't ever want to get stabbed again. It's not fun at all. He wouldn't recommend it to anybody.

“I just wanna know what was going through your head!” Shinra chatters. “Did you know what you were doing? It seems like you don't remember. Did you know the news is reporting you as a hero? They used your name! Hey, are you listening?” Shinra leans over Izaya, squinting at him.

“I don't remember it,” Izaya says, shoving Shinra away. “I was on autopilot.”

“Ah, well,” Shinra says. He leans back in his chair and shrugs a bit. “I think maybe you're working on clearing your bad name. Unfortunately, you'll have to get stabbed a lot more.”

Celty walks in, and Izaya sees his reflection in her helmet. He closes his eyes, not wanting to deal with her, but Shinra laughs at whatever she tells him.

“Kasuka-san is here to visit you. We told him you were awake.”

“What!” Izaya tries to sit up, regrets it immediately. He falls into the sheets with a wince. “I don't want to see him.”

“Sorry,” Kasuka's voice says, already in the room. “They said it was okay.”

“One day, I'm going to sell Shinra to pirates,” Izaya says.

“That might work. A doctor always has value,” Kasuka replies, and Izaya nods. There's silence for a few moments, and then Kasuka clears his throat. “You saved me.”

“I didn't. Or, I didn't mean to.”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don't. It's gross; I don't want your thanks.”

“Still,” Kasuka insists, and when Izaya looks over at him, Kasuka is giving him an earnest expression. “I could be in this bed, or much worse. I could be dead. Thank you.”

“Thanking me would be acceptable if I went with the intention of saving you. I didn't. I didn't think about it, and I don't remember it. So really, you don't have to—“

There's a bang in the next room, followed by Shinra shouting.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“Oh,” Kasuka says, and then he stands. “Shizuo's here.”

“Fucking great,” Izaya mutters. He wonders if Shinra can give him more drugs.

Heavy footsteps thud towards the door, and then it's flying open, revealing a frantic Shizuo. Immediately, he's on Kasuka, looking him over, talking so quickly that Izaya realizes he's already on a lot of drugs, because he can't focus on it. Izaya giggles and moves his hands around in the air, finally feeling the effects of whatever Shinra gave him.

“Why's he here?!” Shizuo barks, and Izaya drops his hands and pouts up at the Heiwajima brothers.

“Can't you have a reunion elsewhere? I'm recovering from an ordeal,” Izaya says, and he blinks as his words slur. “Shinra! What did you give me?”

“Morphine,” Shinra calls.

“I like it.”

“Most people do.”

“Orihara-san—“ Kasuka begins.

“Gross, call me Izaya,” Izaya interjects.

“Uh. Izaya-san saved me. He took a knife for me,” Kasuka continues.

“What? That's fucking impossible. I'm sure he's probably the one who hired those guys to begin with,” Shizuo says, and Izaya tries to be offended, but can't really argue.

“No. Izaya-san showed up on his own, and then some men charged us. Izaya-san jumped in front of me, and then my guards came out from all the noise.”

“I don't buy it. He was involved,” Shizuo argues.

“Even if he was, he paid a price for it,” Kasuka says. Izaya is back to waving his hands around, and he pauses when he feels that everyone is looking at him.

“Am I supposed to say something profound?” Izaya asks. “I think— I think I'm stoned.”

Shizuo marches over to the bed and hovers over Izaya. He glares down at him, and Izaya tries to remember the last time they were this close. Didn't Shizuo headbutt him?

“Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you save my brother?” Shizuo asks.

“I didn't save anyone,” Izaya says, and then he reaches up and touches the tip of Shizuo's nose. “Boop.”

Shizuo snarls down at him, and then someone, probably Celty, drags Shizuo away. Izaya looks up at the empty space Shizuo left and misses Shizuo occupying it. Then, someone else hovers over him.

“I won't forget this, Izaya-san.” Kasuka puts his hand over Izaya's and squeezes. “Thank you.”

“Oh. Go away,” Izaya mutters, and he rolls over. “Being thanked so much reminds me why I'd rather everyone cursed me.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Kasuka says.

“Don't thank him! Don't apologize to him! What the fuck!” Shizuo barks from somewhere, and then Izaya passes out again.

***

Next time he wakes, he's alone.

He reaches for his phone on the table next to the bed. He has messages from Namie, from Shiki, from his sisters. He grumbles and reads through Mairu's babbling about how much she loves him for taking a knife for Yuhei. He replies with a series of emojis, most of them the dancing red dress woman.

Namie asks if Izaya has a brain tumor.

Shiki wants to know if Izaya will return to work now that he's an A-list hero.

“Feeling better?” Shinra asks, and Izaya looks over at him. “You've been pretty out of it.”

“Am I still high?” Izaya asks.

“I hope not. I've been lowering your dosage. Are you in pain?”

“Mm. A little.”

“Do you want more medicine?”

“No. I'd like to think clearly.” Izaya puts his phone down. “I really don't remember it. I just...acted.”

“That's okay,” Shinra says. There's a beat of silence, and then, “You told me some...interesting things while you were doped up.”

“Ugh.” Izaya covers his eyes. “Were we alone?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Celty was in bed. It was just us.”

“Are we alone now?” Izaya asks, his voice muffled from his hands.

“Yes.”

“What did I say?”

Shinra laughs. “You said you didn't want to give Shizuo-kun another reason to hate you.”

“...is that all?” Izaya prompts.

“You might have mentioned loving him. Once or twice.”

“I changed my mind, I want more drugs,” Izaya says, and Shinra laughs again.

“It's okay. Really. I already kind of knew. You aren't as hard to read as you think you are,” Shinra says, and Izaya peeks up at him.

“I knew you knew.” Izaya groans and rubs his eyes. “It doesn't matter.”

“It matters,” Shinra says softly. “Loving someone always matters.”

“Oh, shut up,” Izaya says. “Anyway, can I go soon?”

“I want to keep you a little longer. Your wound is still bleeding a bit, and I can't let you go before I know for sure your stitches won't pop open. It'd be bad if your intestines started to escape, you know?”

“I imagine it wouldn't be good.”

“Have you thought of telling him?” Shinra asks. “Shizuo-kun, I mean. You could tell him.”

“And then what?” Izaya prompts. “He wouldn't believe me, and I wouldn't blame him. No, it's better he not know. I'm glad he wasn't in the room when I was out of it.”

Shinra sighs. “I wish he would have been.”

The day passes slowly. Izaya replies to messages on his phone, barks at Shinra for a charger when his phone starts to die. He and Shinra play cards, and Izaya's chest clenches when he thinks of how long it's been since he spent time with Shinra like this.

“You know, you can come over sometime,” Shinra says, clearly thinking the same. “I'd like that.”

“Your girlfriend hates me,” Izaya says.

“You think everyone hates you. You think it before they even know you. Besides, Celty is a forgiving angel. She doesn't hate anyone. Except, well, I guess she hates cops.”

When the sun starts to set, Shizuo comes back. Izaya pretends to be asleep, but Shizuo isn't having it. He shakes Izaya roughly until Izaya looks up at him through narrowed eyes.

“What?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo glares at him.

“Why'd you save my brother?”

“I told you, I don't know!” Izaya hisses, and he tries to roll away from Shizuo.

“Well, I decided I'm not leaving until you tell me!” Shizuo replies.

Izaya groans at the ceiling, and then he turns to Shizuo.

“You got me. I saved him so you'd owe me one. Now, I can ask you to do anything, and you have to do it.”

“Bullshit,” Shizuo says. “You think I don't know when you're lying? I can tell.”

“I don't know why,” Izaya says.

“Bullshit,” Shizuo says again.

“I don't know what you want me to say. You won't believe me no matter what my answer is.”

“You could try telling the truth. You know, for once.”

Izaya turns over and pulls his pillow over his head, refusing to answer. True to his word, Shizuo plops down into the chair Shinra was occupying earlier and refuses to leave.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Shinra asks a bit later.

“I guess,” Shizuo says.

“I always wanted us all to hang out!” Shinra says happily, and Shizuo and Izaya tell him to 'shut the fuck up' at the same time.

After dinner, and after Shinra offers to hand-feed Izaya for the tenth time, Shizuo winds up falling asleep on the chair, his arms crossed across his chest, his head lolling to the side. Even asleep, he looks irritated. It's not the first time Izaya's seen his sleeping face, but it's interesting nonetheless.

“I guess he's staying,” Shinra says, entering the room. He tosses a blanket over Shizuo. “I think this is progress.”

“He's just a stubborn monster,” Izaya mutters, and when Shinra leaves the room and turns the light out, Izaya is left listening to Shizuo's quiet breathing.

It's been a long time since Izaya slept in the same room as someone. He's used to his sisters falling asleep on him, and he's stayed with Shinra a few times, but this is something new. His worst enemy is unconscious next to him. Izaya knows he should be taking advantage of this, but he doesn't. He spends his time scrolling through his phone, and when he's bored of that, he watches Shizuo sleep. It's creepy, he knows it is. Izaya's always watched people because it's easier than interacting with them. Like this, it's almost like they could be friends, neither of them talking or arguing.

Shizuo twitches in his sleep and makes a noise, and Izaya tears his eyes away.

“I saved him for you,” Izaya whispers, knowing Shizuo won't hear him anyway. After a few minutes, Izaya sits up and carefully detaches himself from various wires. He can't stay here anymore, stitches be damned. He steps past Shizuo and pads down the hallway, collecting his things before he exits the apartment and arranges for someone to pick him up.

It's easier to be alone.

***

A week passes. Izaya works from his bed, relents to letting Shinra come give him checkups, and tortures Namie into bringing him things. By the end of the week, Namie is threatening to smother him with a pillow, which is actually pretty tame for her. Izaya isn't too worried about it. He knows she carries a paralyzing serum with her, after all. The fact she hasn't used it yet means she doesn't hate him too much.

She tells him she's leaving for the day, and he grunts at her, his eyes glued to the screen of his tablet. He's reading about Kasuka's latest gig, silently appraising the raise of security around Kasuka since the incident. Izaya's sisters have since cursed him, saying they'll never get through all the people around Kasuka now. Kasuka recently sent Izaya a fruit basket, and Izaya considers calling to Namie to bring him a pear, but he thinks better of it. She's pretty pissed at him already.

Next thing he knows, someone is in the doorway of his bedroom, loudly crunching on an apple.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya says, setting the tablet down.

“That lady let me in,” Shizuo says as he strides across the room. “Did Kasuka send you this? The arrangement looked expensive.”

“He did. I don't suppose I could convince you to bring me a pear?” Izaya asks.

“I'll bring you one if you answer my questions honestly,” Shizuo says.

“Still caught up on that, huh? I've already said all there is to say.”

“Your loss, I guess,” Shizuo says with a shrug. “I'll start eating the pears next.”

“I hate you,” Izaya hisses. He crosses his arms and grumbles. “I wish I'd let your brother get stabbed instead.”

“Yeah, well. You didn't.”

“I should have. I wanted to.”

“Did you? Want to?”

Izaya exhales loudly and dramatically. “No. You wouldn't have let my sisters get stabbed. It's the same.”

“Yeah, but... It's not the same,” Shizuo says. “Kasuka is a grown man, and he's supposed to have guards on him. He's supposed to have people. Your sisters don't have anyone but you, and sometimes you're...”

“Inadequate?” Izaya asks.

“One person,” Shizuo corrects. “You're one person, and they escape where you can watch.”

“Dota-chin helps them, too. A lot of people do. I appreciate it, even if I don't say so.” Izaya groans and rubs at his wound under his shirt.

“Does it still hurt?” Shizuo asks.

“Yes. It's not too bad, though.”

“Shinra told me he took a knife for you once. It was crazy. I was pissed at him because I thought, if someone had just killed you then, I wouldn't have had to meet you at all.”

“I might have died,” Izaya says. “Nakura-kun hated me. He might have aimed somewhere more lethal the second time.”

“You didn't care though, did you? You wouldn't have cared if he wanted to kill you. You never cared when I wanted to,” Shizuo says.

“Who can say?” Izaya asks, and then he smiles. “I might have cared a little.”

“I don't want to hate you anymore,” Shizuo says. “You saved Kasuka. No matter what your reasons were, you saved him. And even before... Before, I was thinking I didn't want to hate you. It just seems like if we stay this way...”

“We'll die?” Izaya asks. Shizuo nods.

“I don't want to kill you, and I don't want you to kill me. I don't want to explain to your sisters that I murdered you.”

“So then, what do you propose?” Izaya asks.

“A truce? We can... I guess we don't have to be friends, but we could try not to kill each other. How's that?” Shizuo asks.

“That's fine. Whatever.” Izaya stretches, and then he pouts at Shizuo. “Now can you bring me a pear?”

“Brat,” Shizuo says, but he does just that.

They spend hours together. Izaya has a TV in his room for just this occasion, him getting injured and being bed-bound. Shizuo likes trash TV as it turns out, and Izaya delights in making fun of him for it. By the time Izaya's eyes are drooping, Shizuo is already hunched over, resting his head on Izaya's bed.

“You can stay. If you want.” Izaya wants to rest his hand on Shizuo's head, but he resists. “It's pretty late.”

“Yeah. I will, then,” Shizuo says, and Izaya expects Shizuo to either go down to the couch, or to the guest bedroom, but instead, Shizuo is climbing in bed next to Izaya and settling in.

“I hope your monster scent washes out with regular detergent,” Izaya mutters, hating the way his heart soars and then pounds in his ears at Shizuo's close proximity.

“Oh, fuck you,” Shizuo says, but he doesn't sound mad.

They're quiet for a while, and Izaya thinks maybe Shizuo has fallen asleep, but then Shizuo laughs softly in the darkness of the room.

“What is it?” Izaya asks.

“Just this. Us. If we tried to talk sooner, maybe we could've avoided a lot of things.”

“You wouldn't have listened. I wouldn't have listened either,” Izaya says.

“I know. It had to be this way.” Shizuo hums, and then he moves closer, tossing an arm over Izaya, who tenses up at the contact. “Is this okay?”

“Okay?”

“It doesn't hurt?”

“Oh. No, I mean, it's fine. This is fine.”

Shizuo laughs, moving closer. He inhales Izaya's hair, nuzzles into it.

“For a smart guy, you're an idiot, you know?”

“How so?” Izaya asks, bristling.

“You just are. You're easy to read.”

“I am not!”

“Mm.” Shizuo pulls Izaya closer, and Izaya wills himself to calm down or die, either would be fine at this point. “Tell me, why'd you save my brother?”

“Because I wanted to,” Izaya says, finding there is truth in that answer.

“Okay,” Shizuo murmurs. “That's good enough for me.”

Shizuo's lips press to Izaya's, and Izaya gasps softly, his hands on Shizuo's shoulders.

“I already know why, anyway,” Shizuo says, and Izaya pulls him into another kiss before they can argue.

#asks #murasaki19 #shizaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #kasuka heiwajima #prompts #i hope you like it!!!!

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pro-bee · 4 years ago

Text

While we’re on the subject of “Family First” (lol were we?), watching it now for the first time since “She”/”Daughters”/Season 17, with part of the pain dulled knowing that the ship was righted, as it were, and that everyone is now safe and sound and together at last--

What is really striking, when you unpack the unbearable grief of it all, is just how palpable Tony’s love of Ziva is throughout the whole episode.

From the moment in the previous episode that they figure out that Ziva is on Jacob Scott’s hit list, to the last scene in FF where Tony makes his exit forever, you see just how unbreakable that bond is.

At this point in the series, he hasn’t talked to Ziva in almost three years, has had no indication from her that she wants any contact, has ostensibly tried to “move on” for his own sake (even though it took him actual years to get to that point). But the second he realizes Ziva is in danger, he’s vaulted right back into her orbit. The guy who’s gone to the ends of the earth for her (twice) rears his head, and nothing is going to get in his way. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t heard from her in years, could believe she wants nothing to do with him, could be protected by people closer to home. When he knows she might be in trouble, he’s the wild card.

[cut because this got waaaaay long]

And it’s even more revealing, because this isn’t like season 10, where they had a rift over Adam, but were still forced to be together and deal with their shit, as ugly as it was. So even if he was angry with her, it was still easy to tell Parsons that Ziva was his best friend and he would protect her at all costs, even when she hurt him. By season 13, they really may as well have been on different planets. We know he loved her, loves her, will always love her, but he’d resigned himself to the fact that she was gone and wasn’t coming back, and he was going to have to figure out a way to live without her. He wasn’t happy about it, and wasn’t doing a good job about it because even when he tried dating again, it was obvious how goddamn lonely he was. He didn’t make sense without her. And while he was trying his best to grow as a person and help himself heal, which was admirable, he was on his way to living with a wounded heart for the rest of his life.

But then they see her name on that screen, and it’s like no time has passed, and they’re back on a mission to save her from the boogeyman yet again. Then Trent Kort comes in and pushes all the right buttons with the “girlfriend” crack, because he knows them, too, and again, it’s like we’ve been launched back into season 9-10, even without her physically there.

It’s everything. From the way he goes after Kort in the bullpen (and no one tries to stop him) when he thinks he’s willfully putting Ziva’s life in danger (I mean, good call, Tony), to the way the pin drops at the end of “Dead Letter” when he sees the news about the fire at her farmhouse on TV and you see his vision tunnelling. From the way he says, “If that’s Ziva, I’ve gotta go” like nothing else exists in that moment, to the way Gibbs is already ahead of them and pushing him to go, and McGee already has his plane ticket ready for him because they know there isn’t a force in the world that’s going to stop Tony from going after Ziva. How he’s antsy at the apartment, packing for a trip that must feel way too familiar like he’s been thrown back three years, but can’t shake the feeling that she’s still out there, somewhere, because she always is. And when McGee and Abby break the news to him that she’s gone, his whole world shatters. And not in the big, dramatic breakdown (which comes next), but in the absolute shock that takes over his body that his worst nightmare is coming true.

Of course, there’s the “All hands on deck” scene, which wrecked us all, and is still probably one of the best moments of acting of Michael Weatherly’s career. (I go back and forth of my favourite moment of his being that scene or the orchard scene in PPF.) It’s not just the visceral pain of it all, the anger and the anguish. It’s that it’s so, so raw and primordial. Tony is running on pure id, all emotion and no rational thought at that moment. He’s drowning and he doesn’t want to come up; he wants to go down and be swallowed whole. You can see the absolute fear all over his face and in his whole body. This is his worst nightmare, has always been his worst nightmare since she came into his life. Somewhere you have to think that in the last three years, part of him has always worried that something would happen to her and he wouldn’t be there to help, or even worse, wouldn’t know about it until it was too late, and that has finally come to pass.

Tony isn’t a guy who loses control very often; he acts like a playboy or a class clown, but even that is often an act to hide who he really is. He keeps his emotions tightly wound, which is why the brief flashes we get occasionally (for instance, when he calls Ziva out on Adam) hit so hard, because he doesn’t usually get his feelings get the best of him, good or bad. But this scene throws that all out the window; Ziva is the one thing that makes him lose control, makes him follow his heart instead of lock it up tight. And the idea that she is gone forever unleashes every one of those feelings he’s repressed his entire life into the abyss.

It’s in the way he slams his fists on his desk because he hurts and it’s in his warpath. it’s the way his eyes are absolutely wild like they’ve never been, unfocused and unhinged. It’s the way he will yell at anyone in the vicinity because every ounce of pain is begging to escape from his chest. It’s the way his voice hitches when he gets brought back down to earth, because the anguish constantly wrestles with the anger. And this time, I noticed that once Senior shows up and tells him to come home to catch his bearings, just for one night, he subtly shakes his head, almost like a child, because he cannot, absolutely cannot, believe what he is hearing. And going home, alone, is only going to bring it home that this is very, very real. It’s masterful. (Makes me wish MW had gotten more meat like this during his tenure on the show, because boy, can he bring it, when given the chance.)

Then, of course, there’s the Tali reveal, which is a while other post -- it’s bullshit and we all know it, but it happened and all’s well that ends well, now -- and again, we get all these subtle glimpses into their relationship, even through other people. The way nobody doubts that if Ziva had a daughter it could be anyone’s but Tony’s, because, of course they would have a baby. And it may be three years, but Tony knows Ziva and he knows that whatever they had, it was real, which is why he doesn’t doubt for a second that Tali is his. (I resent the fact that I have to write this sentence out because IT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN THIS WAY SHOW but it is what it is) It’s been years, and if he’s moved on then maybe she has too, but he realizes how old she is and how the dates line up and he knows how Tali came to be. They may be fucked up, but they had something that summer and that fall and it was theirs alone.

There’s only a slight tinge of anger when he finds out; I’m sure there was a lot more of it later on, when the dust settled and the shock wore off. But his first reaction isn’t to lash out: his first reaction is to embrace Tali and devote himself to her wholeheartedly. (The first scene of them together after he introduction is the two of them playing like they’ve known each other her whole life. They could have played up the awkward new dad route until the photo scene, but instead kid-phobic Tony instantly bonded with Tali.) Even if Tali weren’t his, she was absolutely Ziva’s, and that alone would have been enough for him to love her and want to protect her. The fact that she was theirs, that made them two halves of a whole.

From that moment on, Tony no longer keeps his Ziva feelings inside anymore. To be fair, he’d actually been pretty open about them ever since he came back from Israel in season 11, from his discussion with Gibbs about feeling like he made the wrong choice coming back (only it wasn’t him who made the choice), to the one with Abby about missing Ziva but needing to move on, to every little moment in between where he refers to his healing and his terrible year without her and how he feels restless (the subtext meaning, without her). But whatever tenuous lock was on his Ziva-fault, her loss breaks it open, and every feeling bubbles to the surface.

We see the unbearable grief at her death (or, “death” -- THANK YOU SEASON 16), absolutely played like that of a lover and not just a friend. (See the different reactions of McGee or Jimmy or Ducky or Abby, compared to Tony’s.) The shock and betrayal of finding out he’s a father and had no chance to be one, but still seeing the importance of stepping up and almost relief because at least he still has part of her to hold onto. The way he smells her scarf, an act of such intimacy you almost feel like a voyeur watching him breathe her in. The way he slowly comes to terms with it when he’s with McGee -- the reality setting in and the doubts creeping in about why Ziva kept Tali from him, how maybe she didn’t fully trust him, but that doesn’t matter, because he loved her. Goddamn, did he love her. McGee may be shocked about what Tony and Ziva were getting up to after hours, but one thing he does know is that they absolutely loved each other.

We see it in how tender he is with Tali; Tony is a good man and would do right by any orphaned child who needed protection in a scary time, but knowing Tali is his daughter and Ziva’s daughter makes her the most precious thing in the world to him from the get-go. From the moment he meets her, you can see that he vows to take care of her the way Ziva would have wanted. Because he loves her and while he just met Tali, he knows instantly that he loves her, too. And loving Tali is how her can honour his love of Ziva.

I absolutely hate the scene where they take down Trent Kort. I will always hate it. I may hate Trent Kort, but I hate unnecessary use of force even more, and always have, and this has always been a scene that horrifies me. That being said, the important part of it is when he declares that “[ZIva] was my family.” It’s important that he says it to Kort, because Kort has always needled both he and Ziva about their relationship since his first appearance, and he used that against Tony in the previous episode. He needed Kort to see just what he destroyed by (supposedly) killing her, that this was not at all a professional beef that was about to go down, but absolutely a personal one.

And it’s finally an admission of what he and Ziva were to each other. They weren’t just colleagues, or partners, or even friends (although they were all of those things and they were all important). They were family; they became intertwined in a way that made them inextricable from each other. Season 10 showed us this in spades, and “PPF,” while a punch in the gut, was basically an hour-long tribute to it. (As much as I hate how Ziva left, the orchard scene and the tarmac scene are two of the most beautiful scenes of their relationship. They are acts of devotion.) They were everything to each other, and all Tali did was become a representation of it. Becoming parents didn’t make them a family, it only entrenched it. They were each other’s family long before that. By the time Abby implores him to understand, he’s realized that in his own way, he did know. It just got lost for awhile.

In a way, “Family First” is a bookend to “Past, Present and Future,” albeit not necessarily in the way want. In PPF, Tony was so desperate to commit to Ziva, to make a home with her and love her the way he knew was ready for, to make a life with her, but she wasn’t ready, and that was the tragedy of it all. In FF, he does finally get to make that commitment to her, by way of Tali. Like he tells Gibbs, he’s now everything to her, and by doing so he’s finally everything to Ziva, too. It’s all backwards, of course, but Tali is everything he wanted in that orchard: she is their family. All those moments where he doubted whether he made the right choice, whether he should go back and ask Ziva to give them another chance, if staying would have made them happier-- ultimately, Tali makes that choice for them, and he does go back to find their home. It’s not in the way he, or any of us, wanted, but she is his answer. And he knows how much Ziva loved Tali, and that must tell him that somewhere, she loved him, too. And while the weight of his grief must press on him like a boulder, another weight that had been on his shoulders since PPF lifts, because he knows, finally, that he is loved.

Of course, the infuriating thing is that it took MW’s exit for the show to finally acknowledge it. And it took them killing off Ziva for them to get ready to show it. I can’t help but think how much the show would have benefitted if they’d leaned into these feelings and developments years earlier, how much richer the story would have been, how many amazing performances we could have witnessed, when every dangerous situation would have even deeper layers by virtue of the added weight of Ziva and Tony’s love for each other. I’m not talking about them making out all the time (although I wouldn’t say no ngl), but every dangerous situation, every life-threatening mission, every near-miss or serious injury to unfold-- we could have gotten some grade-A performances from these actors. Imagine even a fraction of MW’s range in the “all hands on deck” scene in a situation where Ziva’s life is threatened? Imagine Ziva’s barely-contained rage if someone harmed Tony? Imagine episode codas where we get those quiet moments of love as an antidote to whatever horror happened in the case, how much the characters could expand from acknowledging the love and support they have, instead of dancing around the word?

So, in conclusion, it sucks that this is how we had to see it, but if they had to make MW’s final episode all about Ziva, I’m glad they at least acknowledged the elephant in the room, which was that Tony was hopelessly in love with Ziva and had been for ages, even when they were oceans apart. We saw the beginning of it in PPF where he begged her to come home, where she told him he was loved-- but finally we saw the words out of his mouth, not that we needed them. But what I’m saying is that the show finally let Tony say those words out loud, voice the emotions he was feeling and lay them out in the open for everyone to see.

Luckily, now, we can watch the episode through a different lens. It still hurts, because this was not the way it should have been. There was no way Ziva should have been pregnant and alone and raised Tony’s child without him for nearly three years, and there was no way Tony should have been deprived of that and only found out after she died. But now we know that the show basically wrote its own fix-it fic on itself to try to salvage some of this story, and I’m grateful. None of this is the way we wanted it, but on the other hand, they could have let it be. They could have doubled-down on it and made her really, really dead and have Tony move on without her. Instead, it’s canon that they love each other and are finally together for their happy ever after, so I’ll take what I can get.

Because Tony really loves Ziva, and Ziva really loves Tony, and that is the thread that holds this whole thing together.

#in this essay i will #tiva #tiva discourse #family first #season 13 #I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS STILL #SET ME FREE #it's been four years #don't you think this is enough?#i want to get on with my life lmao #LET TIVA BE HAPPY 2020 #this is a long ramble that goes nowhere sorry #i just spent two hours on this lmao #i was gonna try to get back to my fic i abandoned months ago #guess not

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saoirse-lyons · 4 years ago

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A Pair of Foolish Hearts (Part 2)

Collaboration wtih @anotherbrokenharte where Lir and Saoirse wrangle with feelings. Part 1 from Lir’s perspective here.

Saoirse’s eyes turned up toward Lir when the woman cupped her cheek, and she searched the woman’s face as she spoke. The more she said, the more Saoirse’s face softened, and she ached to think that she might never see this woman again. She felt something stirring in her chest, as if her heart were shifting and reconfiguring itself to make a space for Lir within it. Oh no, Saoirse thought in the sweet helplessness of the moment. Nymeia save me; I love her.

Overwhelmed, Saoirse threw herself forward, her book tumbling from her lap as she wrapped her arms around the woman in front of her. “I feel the same,” she said breathlessly, her voice almost a whisper. “Lir, I don’t want to leave.” She knew how hopeless the words were even before they had left her mouth, and the realization drew hot tears from her eyes. She buried her face in the woman’s neck and heaved a shuddering sigh.

“Oh, starlight. I don’t want you to go.” Lir wrapped her arms around Saoirse and let out a shuddering sigh of her own. It wasn’t quite a sob, but still a heavy wash of tears rolled down her cheek. “Shay.” Her words were barely above a whisper as she prized the woman off of her, grasping her face in her hands as she forced her to look into her eyes. Saoirse stared into Lir’s eyes as the woman held her face, searching for an anchor as she was buffeted by the chaotic mingling of longing and dread. Lir’s eyes mirrored the anguish she felt, and it was in her voice when she spoke again. “Shay, love, they can never know. You’re destined for so much better than all this. I know it. Please. Please don’t let me tether you down.”

“Tether me?” Saoirse said incredulously as the woman finished. She pulled back a bit from Lir’s grasp, flicking some of the tears from her eyes as she straightened. “You’re doing nothing of the sort. There is something holding both of us down, Lir -- but it’s not each other. You deserve more than this.” Reaching for the woman’s hand, she brought it to her lips and kissed her knuckles. “I wish I could bring you to Ala Mhigo,” she said into Lir’s fingers, her voice so soft, as if daring to speak the words might cause that future to crumble. “Perhaps that’s not the path Nymeia has set out for you. And I know we need to keep things quiet. But Gods, Lir, I wish it.”

Lir reached up and pulled Saoirse’s head to hers again, pressing her forehead into the crown of the woman’s silver hair, “You don’t know how badly I wish that too.” Saoirse felt Lir kiss the top of her head, and her voice was shaky when she spoke. “If Nymeia or any of the gods have a path set for me then I can only pray it’s one that leads me back to you.”

As she leaned back Lir smiled at her, a sad expression of mirth and anguish, “This isn’t the way I’d planned it to go.” Her bodyguard sniffed as she continued. “Sometimes I thought maybe if I never said it then you’d at least be able leave and be happy, but then other times I’d dream of taking you under the stars and whispering it in your ear until I lost my voice.”

With that, Lir pulled Saoirse closer, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman, cradling her head tenderly as she looked deep into her amber eyes. “I love you, starlight.”

Lir’s words drew a happy whimper from the back of Saoirse throat. She closed her eyes and sighed, smiling as she leaned forward to nuzzle her forehead against the other woman. “I’m glad you’re holding my head, Lir,” she laughed breathlessly. “Otherwise I think I might melt.” She brought a hand up to grasp the woman’s wrist and opened her eyes again, meeting Lir’s hazel gaze. “I love you, too,” she whispered, then raised her hand to cup the woman’s cheek before leaning forward to give her a brief but passionate kiss, their mingled tears salty on her lips.

As Saoirse moved to break their kiss Lir pressed in again, as if yet unwilling to give up the sense of closeness, to spoil the sweet moment by further acknowledging the heartbreak that was ahead of them. Saoirse met Lir’s kiss with matched intensity, hand clutching around the back of her neck. She wished she could live in that moment, frozen for an eternity with their lips joined and their hearts entwined. Finally they both pulled back, forced to let each other go as they broke for air.

“Oh, Lir,” she sighed, laughing mirthlessly as she pulled back slightly, her hand dropping to rest on the woman’s chest above her heart. “What do we do?” Her eyes bared all the helplessness she felt as she searched Lir’s face.

Lir sighed and stroked her hair, looking just as helpless as Saoirse felt in that moment. She lingered a long time over the question before finally venturing with a hesitant voice. “I don’t know, but I’ve never met someone as smart as you are. Let’s think this through. You can’t stay here, that’s a given; but maybe I can get them to send me there?”

Saoirse took a deep, steadying breath, wiping some of the moisture from her cheeks as she absorbed Lir’s words. “Send you where? To Limsa?” She considered the possibility, her thumbs massaging the woman’s ankles where they crossed in front of her. “I might be able to request it. My specialty affords me some amount of leverage, but…” She paused, turning her eyes back up to Lir’s face. “Is that actually what you want? To uproot your entire life? Leave behind all your friends and neighbors -- everyone you’ve ever known?”

“I --” Lir hesitated. “I’ve always wanted to leave,” she admitted, but a frown tugged at her face. “It’d have been easier five years ago when I thought I’d already lost everything.” She sighed and then brightened. “But if I can rebuild once I can do it again. And I wouldn’t be alone.” She reached out then to clasp Saoirse’s hand. “Would you want that? It… I don’t think we could hide this forever. That would have… consequences.”

Saoirse opened her mouth to reply, but as Lir’s last words sank in, she hesitated. “What do you mean? What kind of consequences?”

Lir hesitated again, longer this time as she worked over the right words for the terrible situation they were both facing. “Shay,” she rubbed her thumb over the woman’s knuckles. “This is why I see a courtesan, and not a girlfriend or a lover. Those connections, they’re tethers that the Seal can pull on to make us do what they want. I’d become that for you. A string for them to run a knife across whenever you stepped out of line.”

Saoirse watched her face closely, her eyes hardening at the thought of the cartel harming Lir to get to her. Raising Lir’s hands to her face, she rested her mouth against the woman’s knuckles, leaning into her fingers as an idea began to take shape in her mind.

“Lir,” she said suddenly, raising her head to look the woman directly in the eyes, “what if we didn’t go to Limsa?”

Lir searched Saoirse’s face, as if trying to see where she was going with the question. “Where would we go? What about your studies?”

“My studies are important,” Saoirse admitted, “beneficial for my clinical work, surely. But they’re not worth risking a life over; and they’re the only thing holding me to Limsa. They’re the reason I joined the Seal. So if we can figure out how to extract ourselves from the cartel without tipping them off as to where we’re going, then we could go anywhere. We could go home.” Her eyes were bright and her voice hopeful as she looked up at the larger woman. “Would you do that with me, Lir? Would you come with me to Ala Mhigo?”

“Saoirse,” Lir said quietly, her voice full of emotion, “I’d follow you to the moon right now if you asked me to.” Her voice seemed to catch in her throat and she fell silent, as if made breathless at the invitation.

Saoirse’s cheeks flushed as she laughed at Lir’s reply and threw her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “I’ll settle for our slightly more attainable homeland,” she said, overwhelmed for a moment by the wave of relief washing over her.

Lir laughed and then choked a little as it threatened to turn into a sob. “Oh, Shay.” She trembled as she held her lover to her chest, wrapping her long arms around Shay’s back. “I want that so badly. To see where you grew up. To help rebuild our city and our people.” She buried her face in Saoirse’s hair. “But I can’t ask you to give up your dreams -- your passions -- for me.”

Saoirse pushed herself off of Lir with some reluctance, gripping the woman’s forearms as she met her gaze. “Lir,” she began, her tone gently scornful, “nothing says I can’t continue my work as an arcanist in Ala Mhigo. All I wanted in coming to Limsa was to see the world and follow in the footsteps of my great-grandmother. I wanted to learn more, so I could return to our clinic and fill the ab-...” Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, but she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and pushed through it as her eyes stung with fresh tears. “...fill the absence left by my mother.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment, looking down at her hands. “But I got a bit more than I bargained for in Limsa. I don’t think she’d be happy with the direction things have gone. Certainly the path I’m walking runs against my physician’s oath...” Her face softened as she looked back up toward Lir, cupping the woman’s chin in her palm. “Although I am delighted that this path led us together, I think it would be better for both of us if we shirked the leash, don’t you?”

“Shit, I can’t think of anything I’d like better than to free us both from this mess,” Lir laughed and pulled Saoirse in again, covering her face in small kisses as she finally gave into the giddy rush of affection she felt for the arcanist. After a moment of flurrious attention she sighed happily and sat back again, taking a breath to calm herself. “I don’t know how we’ll do it, and I’ll do whatever it takes, but we can’t be stupid about it. It may take longer than we’ve got here. How can we keep planning once you return?”

Saoirse’s cheeks were flushed as she sat back, both from the memory of Lir’s affections as well as the excitement of having a plan to focus her frustrations on. “As to that,” she said, giving Lir a confident smile, “I have just the thing in mind. You see, we worked under similar constraints under Garlean rule, so my sister and I devised a manner of writing that would look innocent to prying eyes. I can teach it to you; all we need to do is settle on a vocabulary.” Then, grabbing a notebook and a pen from a nearby table, Saoirse tugged Lir closer so the woman could look over her shoulder as she began to write.

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tsnderes · 5 years ago

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hellooo im feeling evil today and if you're up to it what bout s/o lost their eyesight after a fight against villains with kiri, baku, shinsou thankk youu

A/N: Hey Everyone! Ya girl is back and better than ever and also, thank you for 600 followers now! It’s amazing how so many of you enjoy my (mostly) terrible writing! I hope you enjoy this one, anon. ❤️

(this is angst but not super angsty, ya feel?) ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ bakugou, kiri, and shinsouw/ a s/o that lost their sight ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

BAKUGOU

Devastated wasn’t the word to describe the pure anguish that bubbles in Bakugou’s chest, throat heavy as he watches you; Your eyes staring off into the now never-ending darkness you couldn’t shake, there was no relief, no escape.

This was his fault.

He took his eyes off you for a minute, a second even — your screams of agony, the hands clawing at your eyes; the blood streaming down your cheeks — the image fresh and vivid, clouding his mind; A broken record that played over and over and over.

“I know you’re staring at me.” You whispered, patting around the hospital blanket until you found his hand, fingers hooking onto his. “I’m fine.”

Bakugou squeezed your hand, red orbs swirling with such pain, he was thankful you could no longer see. “I’m fucking sorry, (Name). It should’ve been me, It’s my fault. I can’t even protect my own fucking girlfriend—”

He hadn’t realized the tears that fell from his cheeks, droplets landing on your fingers. Holding your own tears back, you trailed your fingers up his body until you found his face, warmly cupping his cheek as he spoke again, the tremble in his voice breaking your heart.

“I will be your eyes. I’ll be your nose, your mouth, your fucking touch if you let me. I’ll never leave your side,they’ll have to pry you out of my fucking hands.”

KIRISHIMA

“Do you need anything else, baby?” Kirishima popped his head in from the kitchen, the aromas filling your nostrils as you shake your head, his eyes softening in response. “Oh, alright. The food will be done soon.”

He was by no means a five-star chef but upon your release from the hospital, Kirishima decided it wouldn’t hurt to try. It was the least that he could do now that your sight was gone. He kept his usual cheerful persona in your presence but on the inside, he was hurting, dying for you. He was supposed to protect you and be there to challenge any obstacle, any threat; Why was it the one time he didn’t accompany you that everything went wrong?

He placed the two bowls of food on a tray along with a cup of juice and balanced it on his hand, careful not to spill anything as he made his way over to your spot on the couch, turning to smile at you; You weren’t even looking at him.

Oh, how he missed it.

“Eijirou? Is everything alright?” You turned your head in the direction you presumed he was and Kirishima let out a shaky breath.

“I… I’m just worried about you, baby. Everything is changing and I want to make this easier for you but I don’t know how.”

“Oh, Eijirou…” You smiled, eyes welling with tears. “You’re doing enough. You’re being amazing, please don’t feel bad.”

He snuggled you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his tears slowly, slowly wet the collar of your shirt and you held him, wiping your own tears in the process; Kirishima pulled back to look at you and leaned forward to press kisses on your eyelids, letting the warmth linger there. “I love you, princess. I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.”

SHINSHOU

It had been a week since you were released from the hospital and Shinsou couldn’t bring himself to visit you.

Maybe it was the guilt or rather the disappointment in himself for not being fast enough, for not thinking quickly enough to save you, to save your sight. How could he face you under this dark cloud of shame that loomed over him relentlessly? He knew he had to see you, though. Your life has changed rapidly in a short amount of time and he knew you needed his support.

That’s why he was on your doorstep, with a bouquet of flowers and a heavy heart.

It took a minute for someone to answer but he was surprised to see your mother, the look in her eyes solemn but no words were exchanged as she stepped aside, allowing Shinsou inside to go upstairs to your room. He slowly opened the door, your head snapped to the sound of the creaky wood. “Who’s there?”

“Your shitty boyfriend.” He mumbled.

You giggled and Shinsou’s heart fluttered at the light tone. He sat down next to you; the bed dipping under his weight as he leaned closer to you, focusing on your eyes, the empty gaze killing him on the inside.

“How do you feel, love?”

You hummed and shrug your shoulders. “I feel alright, much better now that you’re here.”

Shinsou sighed, a hand running down his face as the other grasped yours, caressing the soft skin with his thumb. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit sooner. I… didn’t know how to face you. This is a difficult time and I should’ve been here for you. I’m sorry.”

You moved your hand until it was encircled around his neck, the other following suit as you pulled him closer, noses brushing, tears slowly filling your eyes. “I’m not mad at you, I understand. You have to make it up to me, though.”

He nodded and wiped the stray tears as they threatened to fall, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that made your fingers curl into his purple locks and drown yourself in him, your loss of sight long forgotten, even if only for a moment.

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #shinsou hitoshi #bnha angst #mha #my hero academia

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themusicplayedherlife · 5 years ago

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If you have a request box and it’s open can I get a Tim x demigod reader. Tim is a son of Hermes and the reader is a daughter of Athena. The reader only likes hanging out with the seven pulse Nico, Will, Grover, and Calyps. The adult figures are Mr. D and Chiron. She only hangs out with the seven Nico, Will, Grover, and Calypso and had been in every quest with Percy and the rest since Percy got to camp. The reader is antisocial and an introvert. Tim somehow worms his way into her heart.

a/n: i am so sorry this is so lateeee! you have no idea how many times i started this and rewrote it. you really gave me a hard challenge lol but it’s here and i hope you like it

Tim couldn’t stop staring. He knew it was probably weird and he should look away, but it’s fascinating watching you swing your sword. You’re so graceful, so calm and collected when you flex your wrist to make a harsh cut in the air.

“What are you staring at?” is the question that drags him out of his dream like state.

Looking up, he finds his brother staring down at him. Well, not really his brother, but someone he considered as such nonetheless. They grew up together, even though they didn’t share the same god or human parent, just a legal guardian that gave them a home when all hope seemed lost. But he was as much of a brother, maybe even more, as his cabin mates were.

“Nothing,” is his nonchalant answer. Dick already knows what he’s staring at, anyway, he doesn’t even need to ask, but he loves teasing him about his crush.

Dick snorts. “Yeah, sure, I believe you.”

Practice swords clash and grunts fill the air. You stand at the ready, not giving into Percy’s playful taunts. Growing bored, Percy finally rushes at you and you easily sidestep him and swing, getting Poseidon’s son square on his back.

“Stop sulking and go talk to her,” Dick suddenly says after a beat of silence.

Tim can’t help but wrinkle his nose in annoyance. As much as he loves his brother, he really wishes he were less meddlesome.

You flip your hair back and stare down Percy as he tries to counterattack, but you get him again, right behind the knees, Annabeth shouts your praises and it causes Percy to pout and turn to look at his girlfriend, once more leaving himself wide open for you to attack.

“Easy for you to say,” Tim mumbles. “You get along with everyone.” Must be the Aphrodite genes in him.

“Because I make an effort.” Dick nudges Tim’s head with his finger before ruffling his hair just as Percy throws his sword to the ground and raises his arms. “Look, she and Percy are done training for the day, now is your chance.”

This is his chance! He hops to his feet, but suddenly his feet stop as his mind starts over thinking. What if… “What if she wants to be on her own?”

He knew how guarded you were, after all, you had been betrayed in the worst way possible. Betrayed by someone you trusted and looked up to; someone who was like an older brother to you. While Tim was hurt to find out that a housemate—a sibling no less was behind the betrayal, it didn’t have the same impact on him as it did on you. You had been devastated, full of anguish as you tried to deny what became so clear (if any of his siblings—Dick, Jason, Cassandra or Damian—did half of what Luke did, he would’ve lost his mind). He wonders if that’s why you choose to keep to yourself? Avoid the hurt that someone could cause you by keeping your friend circle so tight and close?

He’s an idiot. Of course it is.

Dick rolls his eyes. “Just go-“ he pushes him forward- “and talk to her!”

“What do I even say?” He asks in a panic.

“Ask if you can sit together for dinner!” Dick suggests. “Or if she’d like to train with you tomorrow! You got this, Timmy!”

Yeah. Yeah! He does have this! He can totally do this! Tim nods resolutely, ready to march up to you and ask if you’d like to sit with him, only to find you’re no longer on the training ground. His shoulders fall and he lets out a loud sigh.

With a sympathizing chuckle and a pat on the back, Dick says, “Next time.”

“Yeah, next time,” Tim murmurs.

He tries his luck as you’re cleaning your weapons, a hand me down celestial-bronze sword from Annabeth and two identical blades gifted to you by Damasen when you fell into Tartarus with your sister and Percy.

You were pretty territorial with your stuff, preferring to clean them and wield them yourself. He’s only ever seen you let Annabeth touch them, and only because she gave you your first weapon.

“Hey,” Tim speaks up slowly, gaining your attention, and you pause in your ministrations. “Um, sorry, do you mind if I—“ he points at the cleaning wax and everything you have laid out to keep your weapons in top condition.

Your eyes fall to the spread in front of you and you nod, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“Thanks,” he mutters and he gently lays out his own weapons gifted to him by Bruce. They’re not the most traditional of weapons like yours or most in camp and he can tell you’re intrigued by the way your eyes linger on them. “Uh, do you want to try using it?” he asks, motioning to his custom bo staff, made out of celestial-bronze, with his hands.

You shake your head, but the curiosity lingers in your gaze and Tim feels his heart speed up when you don’t look away. “How do you kill monsters with it?”

“I—I don’t,” he answers truthfully. “It disorients them, gives my brothers or Cass a chance to finish them off.” You nod slowly, unsure if that’s such a wise idea. Monsters don’t attack to disorient, they attack to kill, so why shouldn’t he? “But I do sometimes use it as a makeshift sword,” he jokes and for a moment he swears he hears a small puff of air that sounds kind of like a giggle.

It’s enough to have him grinning widely.

“Hey—“ a voice interrupts—Nico. When did he arrive at camp? “You done, yet?” He asks you, not even acknowledging him, which isn’t much of a surprise. Hades’ son tends to keep to himself, preferring to travel on his own, too, but occasionally he’d seek you or the others out for companionship.

“Just about,” you answer him, voice lighter and full of warmth. A tinge of envy shoots through his veins. He wonders when you’ll be able to direct that voice in his direction. “Give me a moment to wipe off—there.” You pause and your eyes lock with his for just a moment. “Do you mind putting all of this away?”

“No,” he answers dumbly, unable to break eye contact with you. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, Drake,” you murmur and quickly put your weapons away to join Nico for who knows what.

He hopes he can spend more time with you next time.

Next time comes a lot sooner than Tim thought it would.

He can’t sleep. It’s not the first time, either. His cabin mates usually make fun of him, say his mind is always running and that’s why he’s never able to rest. He’s starting to believe there might be some truth to their words.

With a sigh, he carefully sneaks out of the cabin, grabbing his red hoodie as he goes. He follows the path to the woods where he knows he’ll find some peace and quiet. He knows he shouldn’t stray far, even with Wayne Tech and the fleece protecting the perimeter, you could never be too careful. He doesn’t go too far from camp, but far enough where he’s sure Connor won’t find him and try to pull some kind of prank on him when he realizes he’s gone.

The twigs snap under his feet as he gets closer to the lake where all the naiads play in during the day. He knows they’re all asleep by now and shouldn’t bother him, or so he thought.

Hands wrap around his wrist, ready to throw him over their shoulder with all of their weight, but Tim is quick. He’s able to pull away and wrap his own arms around his attacker—why are they so light?—and is able to throw them both on the ground where he successfully managed to pin them down.

Peering down at the person pinned beneath him, his eyes widening almost comically, embarrassment finding a home on his cheeks. Shit.

“Drake?” Your eyes are just as wide and shocked as his, mouth parted slightly as you stare up at him unblinkingly.

Your name falls from his lips the same way, unsure if it’s really you beneath him right now or some kind of mind trick.

The shock drains from your eyes and you grow serious, suddenly bucking him off of you. He gets the hint and quickly scrambles to his feet.

“I’m sorry, you just grabbed me and I—“

You ignore his rambling, wiping dirt off of your pants. “Why are you out here? You know it’s dangerous.”

His brows furrow and he fixes his hoodie. “Could say the same to you.”

You eye him, head tilting and he has to tell himself to keep eye contact—don’t break, don’t break. He swears he can get lost in those endless shimmering eyes of yours. You sigh and turn away first and Tim let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he answers, voice coming out as a broken squeak. He curses himself for not keeping his voice leveled. He really has it bad doesn’t he?

You don’t say anything, instead you head towards a small patch of grass by the glistening water of the lake and plop down. You bring your knees up to your chest and you just sit there, and Tim doesn’t know how, but he somehow manages to find the courage and strength to drop himself down beside you.

He waits for a beat, and when you don’t tell him to leave, he relaxes, one leg stretched outward and his palms resting against the ground as he leans back.

You spend the rest of the night in companionable silence.

Tim thankfully has the option to opt out of Capture the Flag this week. On his mini quest with Jason and Cassandra, he got hurt pretty bad saving a child from a wild hellhound terrorizing a small town on the outskirts of Gotham. Not that he’s happy that he got hurt, because ouch hellhound teeth digging into skin is the worst thing he has experienced, and that’s saying a lot as a Demi-god and Robin.

Don’t get him wrong, he gets why everyone gets super excited about it, but sometimes—members of the Ares cabin, like Jason, especially—get super competitive and it becomes this whole thing where everyone fights all day and they take more jabs at one another than usual.

“You still ain’t good, kid?”

Tim spares a glance over his shoulder at Jason, who is geared up and ready. Dick and Cassandra flank his sides both in their own personal gear.

“Hellhound got me pretty good.”

Dick ruffles his hair. “I’ll see if I can get Chiron to spare some Nectar or Ambrosia after the game.”

He had some when he arrived at camp, but it wasn’t enough for a Hellhound bite apparently. “That’d be great. Thanks, Dick.”

“Stay safe,” Cassandra mutters patting his arm before making her way over to her other team members with excitement. He forgets how much she loves Capture the Flag.

Dick shakes his head and Jason chuckles lowly, the two following after her.

“Good luck!”

“Won’t need it,” Jason barks back at him, smirking.

He rolls his eyes and pities the fool that’ll have to take on his brothers and sister.

“Here,” a soft voice says just as a small bag of squared treats falls on his lap and he startles, barely catches it before it can drop to the ground. “I had some extra Ambrosia lying around.”

He blinks at the food and then up to find you looking away from him, your friends just a few feet away.

“I’ve never fought a hellhound, but Percy and Annabeth said they can be pretty vicious.”

“Are you sure—“

“Yeah,” you cut him off, finally meeting his gaze, a small smile on your beautiful face that has his heart racing and the wound in his leg throbbing. “Keep out of trouble, Tim.”

Tim. You called him Tim! This is—that’s great news! Just as he’s registering his name drop, he realizes you’re already walking away from him to join the rest of your friends waiting off to the side.

“Thanks,” he calls out to you and you glance at him over your shoulder, eyes scrunching up and lips turning up in one corner. Shit. How is it that one simple smirk can turn his world upside down and kick his heart into overdrive? It should be illegal to make someone feel so strongly as you make him feel.

If he dies from his hellhound injury right this moment, he wouldn’t regret anything in his life.

Except he would regret a couple of things. He knows over the last few years you’ve been in and out of the camp, following your sister and the rest of your friends on the prophesied quests, but he wishes he had tried to get to know you earlier. Maybe then he’d somehow be connected to your prophecies too, and he didn’t have to worry about you never coming back.

“Relax,” he hears Jason say behind him as he and his siblings wait with him for any signs of you and your friends. “She’s gone through worse trials than this and has made it out alive. She can handle finding her mother’s darn owl.”

“She’s strong,” Cassandra adds with a resolved nod, completely convinced about her words.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “She is.”

“She may have already found the owl,” Dick reassures, clapping him on his shoulder. “She’s probably on her way to Olympus to deliver it and Annabeth said that might take another week.”

Gods, he hopes not.

It’s another day, and Tim wonders if you’re okay. If you’re keeping safe and warm. He knows Frank and Piper wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you three are as thick as thieves, and trust each other with your lives, but he still can’t help it.

He thinks back on that night on the lake, how you just sat side by side in silence, and more often than not, most nights he’d find himself by that lake with you by his side.

The first time you broke the silence, you asked him more about his bo staff, asking how it worked and if he’d regret picking that as his choice of weapon. He told you it was gifted to him, and he trusted his weapon to get him out of messy situations. You just stared at him for a beat longer before nodding in understanding.

That night, after you had both went your separate ways—you to your cabin and him to his, he lay awake as his thoughts run wild.

Those nights, sitting side by side in companionable silence, or in shy conversation as you watch the water sparkle, feels so long ago now.

He grabs a rock, turning it in his hands, weighing it. He gently raises it and is about to flick his wrist to skip it across the water when a soft voice stops him, the rock falling to the ground and rolling away.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” His head slowly turns, as if trying to process that familiar voice—because it can’t be! Annabeth didn’t think you’d come for another week! “Naiads aren’t fond of campers throwing things in their lake.”

He scrambles to his feet and takes in your form—apart from a scratch on your cheek, you seem okay! “You’re home!”

“I’m home,” you repeat, a slow smile making its home on your beautiful face.

Gods! He could just kiss you out of relief!

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long,” you murmur shyly and his eyes widen. “I heard from Annabeth you’ve been waiting for me.”

“No!” he interjects loudly, and the water behind him ripples. Shit. Don’t wake up the naiads, Tim! “No,” he tries again softly, “don’t apologize. I’m just, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

It’s quiet out by the lake, not a single bird to be heard or an occasional giggle from a nymph breaking curfew. It’s like everything is holding its breath, watching, waiting to see what might happen. Or maybe it’s just him.

“Okay,” you bend slowly, turning away from him as your smile turns awkward, strained, “well, I just wanted to let you know I’m back, so—“

His hand reaches for your wrist without thinking and you stare at him, smile falling from your face, but you don’t look scared. Your head only tilts and your eyes sparkle with the reflection of the stars, and he knows you’re only curious.

He’s curious, too. Why did he stop you?

“I—“ he closes his mouth, unsure of what to say exactly. His hand drops to his side and he berated himself. He’s already made a fool of himself, no need to keep doing it.

You sigh gently, facing away from him for a moment before taking a couple of steps to stand right in front of him, the tips of your shoes almost touching his. He has to resist the urge to hold his breath, because wow, you’re even more beautiful up close. “Tim, do you—do you like me?”

“What?” he asks dumbly, having not expected you to ask that of all things.

Heat radiated off your pores, eyes drooping and a sweet flush beginning to appear on your skin. “Sorry, I—wow. I’m an idiot. Um. I’m sorry, forget I asked that—“

Before Tim knows what he’s doing, his hands have somehow made a home on your warm skin, and he watches as your eyes widen, mouth parting in a silent question. He knows he’s being oddly intimate, but he didn’t know what else to do! Probably not this! But you’re not pushing him away so that’s a good sign, right? “I—I do,” he admits. “I do like you. I like you a lot. Since the moment my siblings and I arrived and I saw you training with Annabeth.”

“That was so long ago, Tim,” you say, voice a little breathless and he really hopes he hasn’t creeped you out.

“I—I know, but you looked so cool telling her to stop taking it easy on you.”

“I was annoyed,” you whisper.

“Yeah.” He grins slowly, almost in a haze. “But I thought you looked cool.” Your eyes drop to his hoodie as his hands drop to his side. “I just—I just thought you should know since you were asking and—“

“I like you, too,” you admit shyly, eyes meeting his and he swears he can see himself reflected in your eyes surrounded by stars instead of these dark trees. “Somehow, someway, you’ve worked yourself into my heart, Timothy Drake.”

“Oh, man!” He can’t help but laugh, nerves finally slipping from his tense bones, an unfamiliar heat taking over every piece of him. And he wonders if this is what true happiness feels like? “Can I—“ he clears his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

When you nod bashfully, he presses his lips against yours, relishing on the softness of them as your hands cup the back of his neck, and gods, he could just laugh again because this doesn’t feel real. You don’t feel real, but you are real, and you’re so sweet and soft and he can keep kissing you all night, but it’s a shame you both need to breathe at some point. And so, reluctantly he pulls away, only to press his forehead against yours.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow?” he asks, breath fanning over your lips.

You chuckle and he smiles. “I’ll have dinner with you every night, Tim.”

#tim drake x reader #i honestly dont remember anything form the books so this might be off?#and it might not include the characters you asked for because i forgot who Calypso is ;w; so I'm sorry #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #reader insert #timothy drake x reader #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x you #tim drake

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liketolaugh-writes · 5 years ago

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Alphabet Soup

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Connor likes to explore his identity in bits and pieces, understanding what makes him himself one slice of life at a time. When Valentine's Day rolls around, that's when he first starts wondering about romance. Or: Connor's coming out, first to himself and then to others.

“Lieutenant, can you explain the concept of romantic love?”

Hank choked on his coffee, sending it sputtering in front of him as he coughed violently, setting the mug down hard on the table in front of him. Connor had to hide a grin, patting the man on the back to help him along until the man inevitably waved him off, still coughing.

“What the fuck,” Hank wheezed, once a few minutes had passed.

“I noticed the last time I went to the grocery store that some of the decorations had changed and a previously generic aisle had been redesigned to suit,” Connor explained, leaning against the table to idly monitor Hank’s respiration as it returned to baseline. “The last time this happened was when Christmas was coming up, if you recall, so I did some research, and my system database indicated that the occasion in question was Valentine’s Day. I thought you’d be able to explain it to me.”

“You fucker,” Hank complained, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He immediately took another deep swig of the coffee, pointedly ignoring Connor’s small smirk, and set it down again. “Ugh.”

“That’s not very helpful, Lieutenant,” Connor said mildly.

“Ugh,” Hank repeated, with extra emphasis. “Alright. Okay. Fine. Do we have to do this now?”

Connor quirked an eyebrow at him, head tilting a little. Hank scowled back. Their bickering attracted Tina’s attention, and she sauntered over and plopped herself down with her own cup of coffee in hand.

“Anything causing the lieutenant that much visible anguish has my attention,” she announced, fixing avidly curious eyes on Connor. “What’s up?”

“I asked him to explain romantic love,” Connor informed her.

“Yeah, that would do it,” she snorted, a delighted smirk pulling across her mouth. “I’m so glad you decided to do this in public, and also in my vicinity, because this is way too much fun to pass up. He’s not gonna help you though. What did you want to know?”

Connor considered her for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of indulging her, but he was the one who’d decided to do this in a public avenue. “How do you recognize it?”

“Ooh,” she crooned gleefully. “That’s a fun one. Alright, so romantic love, that almost always starts with crushes.”

“Who has a crush?” Chris asked, appearing beside them. Hank seemed to have retreated into misery, scowling at the table and looking like he wished his coffee was spiked with something unhealthy. “Not you, I hope.”

“Fuck you, Chris,” Tina said without heat. “We’re explaining romance to Connor.”

“No, you’re not,” Connor disagreed, bringing a fist up to support his cheek idly.

“I’m getting to it,” Tina assured him. “Crushes, do you ever look at someone and just get excited to be around them? Maybe nervous? You know, butterflies in your stomach, fluttering heart, all that wonderful teenager stuff.”

Connor’s mind unwillingly shot to Markus. “No,” he said, a touch too quickly.

Tina looked skeptical, but didn’t push the issue. “Whatever, you’ll know it when you feel it.”

“Okay, but that’s not all there is to it,” Chris argued, and Connor shifted his gaze to him, hoping he would be more helpful. Chris shot him a small grin. “Romantic love kinda follows you your whole life. Crushes are part of it, but it matures over time. Your partner’s supposed to support you no matter what, even when things get hard. That’s the beauty of it though.”

“Chris is being sappy because every time he and his wife argue, they talk it through and fall even more in love,” Tina explained to Connor, who was at this point just growing increasingly confused.

“Why are we explaining the intricacies of successful marriages?” Ben asked, appearing by Hank and leaning on the table. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think the only ones married here are Chris and I.”

“Connor is asking about romance,” Chris explained to Ben. “Tina decided to save Hank the suffering.”

All of them looked at Hank, who had one hand covering his face, trying to tune out the conversation.

“And I decided to pitch in,” Chris finished, with an almost apologetic tone to his voice.

“I’m beginning to think I should have suffered in silence,” Connor mused aloud, trying not to smile. He wasn’t expecting this to be an actively popular topic, but he didn’t think he’d had a conversation this active or friendly with his coworkers before, and certainly not so many at once.

“You really should have,” Hank groaned, kicking him under the table. Connor kicked him back shamelessly, and Hank cursed, giving him a dirty look, to which Connor tilted his head innocently.

“You’ll understand when you get a girlfriend,” Ben told Connor kindly, smile faintly bemused. “Maybe that nice girl from analytics.”

Tina clapped. “Oh, that’s a good example! Connor, you know Alicia?”

Connor nodded cautiously, head tilting. “Yes? She’s rather nice but a little strange.”

“That’s because she has a crush on you,” Tina explained earnestly. “She talks to you a lot with really flimsy reasoning, right? And she stutters and blushes and does you favors?”

“Yes…” Connor said, slow and cautious as he tried to follow, a little overwhelmed now. “What… do I do about this?”

“Oh god,” Hank groaned. Connor took the initiative and kicked him first this time.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chris provided with a sympathetic smile. “But you’d definitely have more than a fair chance, if you want to ask her out. You probably get a little nervous around her too, right? Maybe want to get to know her better?”

“Your heart should beat fast,” Ben added, with a touch of wistfulness to his voice. “Maybe you want to show off and impress her. Young love is something special.”

Connor shook his head, increasingly flustered and starting to regret bringing up the topic more sincerely.

“I don’t,” he protested. “I just noticed that she was acting strangely.” He’d actually been a little concerned, and he wasn’t sure he felt any better about it now. How was he supposed to respond to a girl with a crush on him? This certainly wasn’t in his programming.

“Thank god,” Hank muttered, and then, clearer, bumping Connor more gently, “Then she’s flat out of luck, and you don’t have to do anything except maybe let her down nice if you feel like it.”

Connor hummed with some distress, finally reaching out to do some quick supplementary research, and then, after a few moments, said, “My research indicates that not all couples are a woman and a man?”

His mind flicked to the Tracis, two girls wrapped together like that would protect them from the rest of the world.

“He gets it,” Tina said with obvious pleasure, jabbing her thumb at Connor.

“Most couples are,” Ben corrected, with an almost apologetic bent.

Connor started to reply, but was distracted when someone else finally came into the break room, and a quick glance told Connor that it was Detective Reed who’d entered. Instantly, a smirk shot across Connor’s face and he called out,

“Detective Reed, look at me!”

Detective Reed turned around, a faintly confused scowl on his face as he stopped fumbling for a mug.

“Bitch,” Connor said clearly, and Reed sputtered.

The other four humans collapsed into various forms of laughter, and that was the end of that conversation. But Connor kept thinking about it, even when he went back to work and long after Hank had put it out of his mind.

-------

Hank wasn’t able to put it out of his mind for long, because soon after that, Connor started playing love songs in a wide variety of genres whenever the radio was silent for more than a few minutes.

The nature of the activity wasn’t itself particularly unusual; Connor spent quite a lot of time exploring new possible interests whenever they were drawn to his attention, and Hank had been kind enough to give him space to do so. The man had put up with classical, rap, movie soundtracks, and electrobeat as Connor tested them all out by turn.

Apparently Hank drew the line at Kelly Clarkson.

“Can’t you play this shit in your head?” Hank demanded of Connor, less than a week into his newest curiosity. He looked exceptionally sullen, slumped against the arm of the couch and making quiet, irritable groaning noises.

Connor would argue that he looked like a petulant child. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I could,” Connor said agreeably, “but this is one of the few occasions where doing so externally is genuinely better than keeping it within my system.” Transmitting sound data directly into his mind wasn’t quite the same as listening to it play.

“Wasn’t it enough to put me through that whole talk at work?” Hank demanded of him. “You gotta subject me to Taylor Swift all day too?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Connor deadpanned, glancing over at Hank, “but none of you were actually very helpful.” But Hank’s continual protests were starting to put a knot in his chest, and before he could think better of it, he asked, “Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to help me explore this particular topic, Lieutenant?”

Hank went still for a moment, and Connor winced as he realized what had caught his attention. Connor only called him ‘Lieutenant’ at home when he was uncomfortable. But he couldn’t help it; Hank was usually so unconditionally supportive of any moves Connor made to explore his opinions, so this uncharacteristic protest was making him nervous.

Hank exhaled.

“Hell,” he sighed, obviously frustrated. “It’s just- a messy topic, Con. I never really got the hang of it myself. That’s why I have an ex-wife instead of a wife.” Connor bit his cheek, trying to push his scattered thoughts together into a response, but when Hank looked over at him, the man’s expression relaxed a little, resigned instead of annoyed. “Most people go through their first fumbling relationships when they’re teenagers. I guess you didn’t exactly get that chance though.”

“I was never a teenager, Hank,” Connor reminded the other, trying to force the anxiety in his chest to ease. Hank rolled his eyes, but relaxed noticeably.

“Yeah, no shit. Anyway, I’ll put up with it, I guess. God knows I have practice.”

That made Connor curious, but not enough to ask. “Appreciated.”

So Connor kept running through them, shifting quickly from genre to genre but sticking to the main topic. He found that he preferred love songs by women, and liked the heartbroken ones as much as he did the longing and lovestruck ones, and otherwise his genre preferences had remained rather uniform: metal and rock were his favorite, pop was okay, and country and hip-hop were out of the question.

A few times, he tried to imagine what kind of woman he might want to date, but his mind skittered over the idea without catching on anything, and eventually he accepted the defeat with as much grace as he could. Maybe it was simply something he couldn’t guess before he tried. (Or maybe it was just another way Connor was failing to understand.)

Hank assured him, gruffly, that he’d probably work it out in time – he always had more faith in Connor than Connor had in himself, even if he was usually reluctant to express it.

Connor himself, of course, wasn’t nearly so sure. Who would even want to love Connor so intimately? Connor was… well. Connor. The reasons not to like him couldn’t be counted on fingers.

He didn’t say that to Hank, of course, and it didn’t stop him from thinking about it.

--------

In the immediate wake of this, Connor came to New Jericho’s headquarters on a social call.

It wasn’t something he made a point of doing. Actually, it was something he’d tried his very best not to do, not wanting to cause the androids of New Jericho any more discomfort than was strictly necessary to perform his duties. Even social calls as a more general concept were foreign to him. What would they even do? Most of the time, Connor either followed Hank’s lead or entertained himself alone. Group activities were new territory, and he was as unsure of himself as he ever was.

But Markus had asked. Connor rarely found it in himself to deny Markus anything.

So he met Josh at the front door of the headquarters and followed him inside, keeping quiet and awkward. Josh would be a reassuring presence if Connor weren’t so nervous just to be around him – he kept up a litany of neutral-ground questions about work and about Hank, and accepted Connor’s stilted answers without any evident frustration.

“W-what were you and the others planning on doing tonight?” Connor blurted out eventually, and winced when he realized that it had no relevance to the question Josh had just asked about Sumo.

Josh favored him with a small smile and Connor looked away quickly, self-conscious.

“We were thinking about just watching a movie,” Josh said conversationally. “North gets testy when we try to talk work on Saturday nights, and movies aren’t something any of us except Markus have a lot of experience with. It’s nice.” Josh considered. “Well, Simon knows some, but they’re mostly for kids.”

He sounded very pleased, Connor thought, and it made sense. All of them were still working on finding their footing in a world that, while not exactly safe, was no longer quite so actively attacking them.

“What kinds of movies?” Connor ventured after a moment, still stiff and nervous despite his own best efforts.

“Well, North likes action movies, of course,” Josh said with a roll of his eyes. “The more violence, the better. Simon likes the absolute trashiest romances-”

“Can we try one of those?” Connor asked without thinking, and cringed as he realized he’d interrupted Josh, who was blinking at him, startled. He ducked his head. “Sorry.”

They reached a door, and Josh pushed it open to go through, bemused gaze still lingering on Connor. “I didn’t think you��d like that sort of thing – I kind of figured you’d be on North’s side, honestly.”

Before Connor had a chance to answer, Markus called out, “Connor, Josh, hello!”

Connor started and shrank in on himself a little, irrationally startled, and he lingered back to examine the room while Josh talked to Markus. It was nothing special, certainly nothing to indicate it was in one of the most important buildings in Detroit – an old TV system and a couple of battered couches, one of which Markus and Simon were sharing, and one of which had North flung over most of it, tossing her ball in the air with an aura of general impatience. When she caught Connor looking, she raised a lazy hand in greeting, and he relaxed a little and nodded back.

Connor would never tell any of them this, but he was by far the most comfortable with North out of any of them. It wasn’t that she was the least suspicious – she’d actually been by far the most so for over a month – but they were… more alike, than the others.

Connor wasn’t sure he could ever be truly comfortable with Josh when his first instinct when he was scared was still, after all this time he’d been deviant, to lash out with all of the prowess of his combat program. Even if he didn’t usually do it. (Usually. Hank had, once, almost gotten a black eye from startling him.)

It was a little better with Markus, who was patient and calm but certainly had the resolve to fight if he ever needed it, and Simon, who would fight if he thought it was the only way out. But not much.

They could, and if they really had to they would, but they didn’t hurt people like he did. And there was nothing Connor could do to match that.

Connor left Markus and Josh to go perch on the end of North’s couch. “Josh said you like action movies,” he said without preamble, glancing at the still-off television screen.

North grinned at him. “They’re better than anything else we can find. You joining me on that?”

Connor shrugged. He’d liked comedies so far, but he actually hadn’t explored much beyond what Hank had insisted he see yet.

“He actually asked for one of Simon’s bad romances,” Josh provided with a grin, apparently catching their conversation. Connor heated up, embarrassed, and Simon beamed at him, bright and sparkling.

“Oh my god, why,” North said with exaggerated affront, and this time Connor had to fight his grin down.

“I’m just exploring the idea,” he protested, focusing deliberately on North’s exasperated expression to avoid the reactions of the three others. “I’ve been curious about the idea of romance since shortly before Valentine’s Day. I haven’t had much exposure to it in any form.”

North’s nose wrinkled with a more genuine displeasure, though it wasn’t specifically directed at him. “Who fucking needs that anyway,” she muttered.

Both his eyebrows rising, Connor glanced at Markus inquisitively. He didn’t disappoint.

“North and I broke up last month,” he explained, with only a small amount of regret in his voice. “Things were getting… let’s say, a little too intense.”

“He means we argued so much that we made up more than we got along,” North clarified, not quite bitter but definitely irritated. “Not exactly life partner material.” She threw a look over her shoulder. “Should’ve gone with Josh after all.”

Connor was confused until Josh objected, “Just because Markus swings that way doesn’t mean I do.”

“Thanks, guys,” Markus said, wearily enough that even North looked briefly apologetic. He glanced at Connor and elaborated with a wry smile, “I had a crush on Josh too, during the revolution, but that was kind of a dead end and there wasn’t exactly time to think about it anyway.”

Connor glanced between the four of them slowly, playing catch up. “You’re bisexual,” he concluded at last, unable to help a spark of interest.

Markus’ smile eased, his shoulders dropping, and he nodded. “Something like that. Josh is straight, though, and North is…”

“Working on it,” North finished for him, audibly dismissive. “Not.”

Understandable.

Connor considered this for a moment, glancing between them, but was interrupted before he could finish processing; he was finding himself a little tongue-tied. Possibly Hank’s embarrassment concerning the topic was infectious.

“Oh no,” Simon said suddenly, with slow-dawning dismay. “I didn’t even think about it.”

Josh twisted to stare at him, distracted. “You love romance.”

“That’s other people,” Simon explained earnestly, looking distressed. Connor almost smiled.

“I’m just curious,” he said, as honestly as he could. He was probably straight, according to Ben and some of Hank’s own implications, but they all sounded so confident that he didn’t feel secure enough to actually say so.

Markus smiled at him, and Connor averted his eyes, embarrassed. “That’s fine. I’m sure there’s quite a lot of androids who haven’t even started thinking about romance just yet.”

Connor smiled a little, some of the tension draining out of him, and North cleared her throat loudly.

“Okay, but let’s get back to the point,” she said loudly. “Which is, there’s no way I’m sitting through another goddamn Hallmark movie.”

Simon made a low protesting noise, and Connor deflated a little, though he hadn’t really expected his request to make an impact anyway.

“Compromise,” Josh said firmly. “I’m sure we can find an action movie with a romance subplot.”

“Yeah, like we can find one without one,” North grumbled.

“But what do you and Markus like?” Connor asked earnestly, leaning forward to listen even as Josh went to join Markus and Simon on the other couch.

“Fantasy, mostly,” Josh confessed with a shrug. “I’m a little tired of history, if I’m honest.” There was a touch of humor to his tone, and Connor nodded his understanding. “And Markus likes the indie stuff.”

“It’s creative,” Markus said defensively, and Connor had to laugh.

----------

Tina wasn’t sure when Connor had picked up the habit of bringing everyone coffee toward the end of the workday, but it had certainly endeared him to the rest of the precinct. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was always finished a good hour before the rest of them. If he wasn’t bringing them coffee, he’d just spend the end of the day fidgeting restlessly, or else he’d start on the backlog of paperwork that had never gotten done.

It was around that time of day again and Connor appeared from the breakroom with a labeled paper cup for each of them, bringing it around – first to Hank, who had certain privileges as Connor’s blatant favorite. Then Ben, and Tina made grabby hands when Connor came by her that made him visibly bite down a smile.

Connor bypassed Gavin entirely, which made him scowl, and Tina saw Connor cast a lightning-quick glance over his shoulder to smirk at the man’s reaction. He gave one to Chris, to Wilson, to Person, and he only came around back to Gavin once he’d given one to every other officer waiting.

Gavin’s coffee, it developed, was labeled ‘Rat Man’. Tina hid a grin behind her fist, and Gavin’s outrage grew visibly.

“You got something to say to me, tin can?” Gavin demanded of Connor, who raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve heard some of the other officers refer to you as such,” he said innocently, eyes glittering. “There’s really no reason for me not to do the same.”

Gavin shook the coffee angrily at Connor and swore as some of it splashed onto his hand. “Don’t act like you don’t fucking know what you’re saying, you plastic piece of shit! I’m not gonna take this disrespect when I make sergeant!”

“Then I’ll be sure to keep it out of your hearing when you finally achieve that rank,” Connor said mildly. “Which may be easier if you stop giving yourself coffee burns.”

Gavin looked Connor in the eye and swallowed down several gulps of what Tina knew to be boiling hot coffee without flinching. He paused for a few minutes, probably waiting for the pain to die down, and then said roughly, “Fuck you. I’ll be there before you are, blue blood.”

Connor looked away quickly, borderline flustered and genuine amusement pulling at his mouth, and shrugged. Tina, unlike Gavin, was in perfect position to see his LED flash yellow for a few seconds before returning to blue, and she didn’t have time to be concerned before Connor said lightly,

“You’d probably find last week’s Kendelson case very interesting, Detective. There are some distinct similarities in execution and profiling, if you want to take a look.” His eyes flashed back to a squinting Gavin, smirking just a little. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

Then he took off back to his desk, settling by Hank again before Gavin could reply. Gavin stared after him for a minute, brow furrowed, and then shrugged, shaking his head like he was throwing off a fly.

Tina waited for Gavin to take another drink before saying, tone conversational, “You know if you break his baby gay heart, Anderson is going to kill you and we’ll never find your body.”

Gavin choked, which was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

“What the fuck? Connor’s not gay and he doesn’t have a fucking crush on me!”

Tina waited. She and Gavin were two of the few queer officers in the precinct, and she was sure he could pick up on Connor’s signals as well as she could. Gavin stared straight ahead, thinking, and then, sure enough, his jaw dropped.

“Oh fuck,” Gavin said, with genuine dawning horror. “He’s gay and he has a crush on me. Tina, don’t you fucking dare tell him.”

Tina grinned. “You should probably go pick that case up. Connor’s usually right about these things.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Gavin said fervently, and then he stood up and headed for the records room.

--------

It was hard for Connor to find hobbies, especially in a city that had only in the last month or two began to settle into a new rhythm after the revolution. But he thought he was managing well enough, with some help from Hank and occasionally from Markus or Simon.

The animal shelter had been Simon’s idea; Connor loved animals, liked being productive, and the animal shelters had in many cases never actually left, only become severely understaffed, owing to the difficulty of transporting so many animals on such short notice. It had quickly become one of Connor’s favorite places, and he tried to go there at least every two weeks, if not every Saturday, helping to herd and entertain the dogs while the actual caretakers did their jobs.

He almost always found that he’d stayed longer than he’d meant to – he simply enjoyed himself too much, cooing to the dogs and coaxing the shyer ones into playing just as hard as the loud ones. It was a good way to de-stress after a week of police work; even Hank had commented after the first couple times he went.

All of this was to say – when he went to the shelter, and found himself struggling to focus on the dogs, he noticed.

Connor had quickly gotten to know all of the employees there, just as they’d gotten to know him, with how regularly he came around and how recognizable he was. He knew that Jeanine liked the cats better, that Kenneth was a bit of a worrywart, that Penny had been suspicious of him the first few times he came but had warmed up quickly when she saw him fawn over the dogs.

The first thing Connor thought when he saw the new boy opening the kennels was that he was very, very cute, and it wasn’t until the dogs were barking at his feet that he remembered that he had a task to perform.

“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly, kneeling to hold out his hands to the dogs and let them recognize him and his scent; it often took them a minute, since he didn’t smell like any human, but they always got there quickly. They were very smart.

The boy started, glanced over, and smiled. “Oh, hey- Connor, right?”

Connor nodded, looking down. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before. When did you start?”

“Just last week,” the boy said cheerfully, moving on to the next kennel. Connor glanced up and thought he liked the boy’s smile. It looked like it came easy. “A lot easier to get jobs in Detroit now that so many people have moved out- uh.” He seemed to think that over for a moment, and then glanced gingerly over at Connor.

Connor smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m sure,” he agreed. “What’s your name?”

The boy relaxed. “Jacob, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you from the others.”

Connor let an embarrassed grin slip onto his face. “I like dogs,” he said, and then realized that was rather redundant. But Jacob laughed.

“I’ve heard,” he said.

And perhaps that should have been it – but Connor kept getting distracted, watching Jacob lead the dogs away one by one to look them over, weigh them, and scrub them down, just the ordinary routine that every other worker did once a week. Connor caught him cooing to the dogs, too, well within Connor’s sensitive hearing, fond and friendly and gentle, and didn’t realize he’d gotten distracted until one of the ones near him shoved their cold nose against his palm insistently.

He felt unaccountably nervous. Not frightened, but rather, he realized, excited, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Jacob was just a boy, with a nice smile and a talent for handling dogs – so why did he have so much of Connor’s attention?

And then Connor remembered how Tina had described a crush to him, and wondered.

---------

The first thing Connor did when he looked up and met Chloe’s eyes was flex his hands, closing them into fists and then opening them again, something uncomfortable deep in his chest.

But they were empty. Of course they were. Androids still were not technically allowed to handle guns, and he was at work.

Chloe just gave him a small, almost understanding smile, and he had to wonder if she’d caught the motion. Either way, she bypassed everyone else to stand by his desk, hands clasped neatly behind her and apparently unconcerned by her environment and the stares she was getting.

She was alone, Connor noticed, and appeared more animated than she had at Kamski’s villa. He wondered why.

“Hello,” he said at last, for lack of anything better to say.

“Hello,” Chloe returned lightly. “It’s good to see you, Connor. I was wondering if you’d be willing to take a short break to talk to me for a while.”

Connor stared at her uncertainly, mouth pinched. He had no objections himself, of course, but he couldn’t help but want to know why she’d even want to speak to him. He certainly wouldn’t, after he’d come so terribly close to shooting her in cold blood.

When he glanced over to Hank for support, though, the man just made a small shooing motion at him. There was something odd about his expression, though Connor was too uncomfortable to take the time to decipher it just now.

Ben, on the other hand, gave him a wink, which just made Connor more uncomfortable, and Chris gave him a small and reassuring grin. Tina appeared to be laughing silently, eyes bright, and Gavin rolled his eyes, long and exaggerated.

Eventually, Connor just turned his gaze back to Chloe and nodded slowly.

“Of course,” he agreed. “Give me just a moment to finish, please.”

Chloe nodded, and waited patiently as he added the last few strokes to his report and closed his terminal. Then he stood up and followed her out the door, confused and nervous in a much more familiar and anxious way.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, glancing at her once they were a few minutes down the block. “About… about before.” His throat was thick with stress.

Chloe just gave him an understanding look.

“It was a long time ago,” she said gently, “but I was a machine once too. I remember what it was like… and all I was programmed to do was take calls and file paperwork.”

Connor clenched his jaw, trying to master the wave of guilt before it choked him.

“Elijah never thought you were going to shoot,” Chloe added kindly when he remained silent. “But… I wanted to thank you for not doing so, anyway. It must have been difficult.”

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for it,” Connor blurted out, terse with pain.

“I don’t,” Chloe corrected. “I’m choosing to.” Her gaze swept over the street, and her expression softened noticeably. “It helps that it’s you. I don’t think you know what it means to me, that I can wander around without pretending to be a machine. That alone would make up for quite a lot.”

“That wasn’t me at all,” Connor protested weakly. “That was mostly Markus.”

“It was,” Chloe agreed, which wasn’t a response Connor was at all used to but which was somehow comforting in and of itself. “But you certainly helped.” She glanced at Connor, warm. “It’s different for you. You’ve never known a time before androids walked the streets. But I was the first, and I remember. Connor, this is everything to me. It wouldn’t have happened without Markus, and it wouldn’t have happened without you either.”

She was right – Connor couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. Even the dozens of old movies he’d seen, without any androids in them at all, background or otherwise, seemed like a different world, one that existed only in fiction.

After a minute, he decided to just accept it. He didn’t really need to understand why she’d forgiven him, anyway, and he probably never would one way or another.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” is what he settled on, stiff but sincere, and she gave him an understanding smile.

She hadn’t seemed this old when he’d seen her before; it made him feel quite young by comparison, in a way he wasn’t really used to. But then, he supposed, she’d probably been pretending to be a machine then. Plausible deniability, on her part or on Kamski’s, or both. Chloe must have had quite a lot of time to grow and develop.

What came out of his mouth next surprised him. “May I ask you a sensitive question?”

Chloe paused for only a split second, apparently surprised, and then nodded. “Certainly, but I reserve the right not to answer.”

“You seem… comfortable with yourself,” he explained haltingly. “Which I assume is from having quite a lot of time to explore your own identity.” He paused for a split second, uncomfortable, and then pressed on. “How does one go about exploring their sexuality?”

Chloe’s surprise was almost audible, but there was a genuinely pondering look on her face as they turned around to head back towards the precinct, almost in unison.

“Is this a sex question or an identity question?” she asked at last.

Connor flushed. “The latter,” he said quickly.

Chloe was quiet for a few more moments as they walked. “Why are you asking me, out of anyone?” she asked eventually.

Connor shrugged uncomfortably.

“We only have a passing acquaintance,” he explained slowly, hesitantly. “So you’re essentially impartial. You’ve had more time to explore yourself than any other android I know, including Markus, since he’s been a deviant for so little time. I thought… if I could ask anyone, I could ask you and not suffer too many repercussions.”

Chloe nodded, slow and thoughtful.

“I realized I was aromantic a while back,” she said matter-of-factly, head tilted to watch him. He ran a search on the term and nodded his understanding, and she continued, “It took quite a while. At first I thought I was maybe too young to be getting crushes, and I hadn’t developed that far yet. Then I thought it was because I had too little exposure to the outside world. Who was I going to get a crush on, Elijah?” She rolled her eyes, and Connor had to smile a little. “But that wasn’t it either. I just wasn’t interested, not even in the idea.”

She stopped for a minute, and he let her think. They were almost halfway back to the precinct now.

“So my experience might be a bit different,” she continued, with a small smile. “But I’d suggest you give serious thought to who you’d want to be in a relationship with, not just who you think you’re supposed to. If you have to force it, it’s probably not right.”

Connor hummed uncertainly. He understood her words, but…

Well. It just didn’t seem like it would be that simple.

She caught his eye and smiled.

“You can kiss me if you want to try,” she said carelessly, eyes glittering with something like amusement. “I wouldn’t mind – it’s not like I get the chance often.”

Connor considered that for a moment, and briefly imagined his lips against hers, the way he’d seen other people do, bodies pressed together just a little-

“No thank you,” he said hastily, and she quite rightfully laughed at him.

His smile came out embarrassed, but he didn’t take it back.

----------

Hank got his first clue when Connor started to put LGBTQ documentaries on the television whenever he had a chance.

It had initially surprised Hank that Connor was lingering this long over the idea of romance, but in hindsight it shouldn’t have; Connor had thus far chosen to explore his identity in phases. He’d explored clothes and colors and decorations all together, and games with movies and outings, and technological history over the course of a week with nearly unbreakable focus – once he hit on a new problem, he worked at it until he was satisfied. There was no reason that this would be any different.

Maybe the real reason Hank was so confused was that he hadn’t expected it to take this long.

And one or two might have been attributed to Connor talking to others, but after Connor put on the fifth that month, watching intently, Hank started to get the idea. He was a police detective for a reason, after all. A long time ago, he’d been a borderline prodigy.

It wasn’t that Hank hadn’t ever thought about it before.

Well, that was almost a lie. It hadn’t occurred to him to think about Connor coming out. But he’d thought about Cole, and remembered how his parents, so long ago, had reacted to his lesbian sister. And he’d remembered how he hadn’t spoken more than a few words to his sister in decades because of that.

“I remember the day gay marriage got legalized,” he said conversationally, and Connor started, turning to him with wide and curious eyes. Hank shrugged at him. “I honestly didn’t even know it was up for vote at the time, but I woke up that morning and there were rainbows all over the internet. Rainbow drinks, rainbow food, rainbow clothes, hell, public buildings lit up in rainbow colors to celebrate. People were talking about it all over, hashtag lovewins – that one stuck around for a while, people loved it.”

Connor tilted his head, the exact same curious gesture he always made. “What did you think?” he asked.

“Well, at first I figured it was pretty cool, but it didn’t really have that much to do with me,” Hank said casually. The memory came easily; he’d been pretty self-absorbed then, focused on his own ambitions. Heh. “But then Jeffrey called me.”

“You were already friends back then,” Connor said, thoughtful, and it wasn’t always obvious how young Connor was but times like this, so surprised that he and Jeffrey had been friends twenty years ago when they were both over fifty years old, it kind of showed.

“We joined the force around the same time,” Hank agreed. “We’d been friends for almost a decade at that point – nothing like now, obviously. Anyway, he wanted to know what I thought of it too, and I told him basically what I told you. As soon as I was done, he came out to me.” He caught Connor’s startled expression and had to grin. “Yeah- he doesn’t spread it around, but he’s not in the closet either. He says he’s married to his work, but that’s an inside joke – his husband’s an ex-con.”

That surprised a genuine laugh out of Connor, rare enough that it made Hank grin too.

“I’ve heard it a thousand times,” he tacked on, leaning back and noticing the Connor had at some point paused the documentary. “It’s not even funny anymore, frankly.”

“I don’t know, it’s certainly funny to me,” Connor disagreed, giving Hank a small grin, and Hank snorted.

“You’ve got bad taste in humor, son.”

He’d have to introduce Connor to Brooklyn 99 later. He’d love it.

---------

New Jericho didn’t have a gym, exactly, but there was a large room spread with padding on one of the lower floors, which served essentially the same purpose – androids didn’t need to work out, of course, but some of them liked to.

Connor only ever used it when he was teaching North the forms from his combat programs, but he had it on good authority that she used it whenever she got the chance. Especially to practice, but for other things as well, moving just to feel her servos whir and her artificial tendons stretch.

He was running her through one of his favorite sets, meant to unbalance and knock down an enemy, when Markus appeared, striding through the doors like he was at home here as anywhere else, and maybe he was.

“Connor!” he called out, and he sounded pleased. “I’ve been looking for you! I should have known you were in here.”

Connor’s running explanation to North broke off into stutters, and in the middle of a motion, he faltered, tipped, and then fell, landing hard on the ground in a daze. Mortified, he scrambled up back to his feet and swung around to look at Markus, who was smiling at him, clearly amused and warmly affectionate.

Connor hadn’t understood the term ‘his heart skipped a beat’ before. He did now.

“A-ah, hello, Markus,” he greeted, fidgeting as he tried to calm his embarrassment. “What did you need?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Markus admitted shamelessly, coming closer. “I’m glad you and North get along so well – and I heard you spoke to Chloe recently?”

Connor nodded quickly, and the two of them spoke for a few more minutes – Markus eventually confessed that he’d wanted to know how Connor’s work environment had been so far, and Connor explained what he could, which he felt was embarrassingly little. He wasn’t always particularly good at picking up on everything he should, in a social environment, and he didn’t have answers to all of Markus’ questions. Markus assured him it was fine, but Connor was still rather embarrassed, and he kept fidgeting until Markus smiled at him again and left the way he’d come.

“North,” he whispered as soon as Markus left, feeling stunned, “I think I’m gay.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” North agreed, with clear amusement.

---------

Once the realization had finally hit Connor in its entirety, it seemed obvious. The nervousness around many of his closer male friends, the constant curiosity that led him to ask relationship questions that seemed to surprise some of the others, the disinterest in women that he’d noticed almost from the start- it made sense.

It also felt like a secret that stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t help but remember Ben’s apologetic correction, most couples are.

He should come out to Hank first. He was closer to Hank than essentially anyone, and he knew, from the conversation he and Hank had had before, that Hank would most likely be okay with it.

But he found himself anxious. It sometimes felt like Hank was all he had, and the very last thing he wanted to do was to risk alienating him. Irrationally, despite everything – or perhaps because of everything – he worried that this would be the final straw.

The first time it occurred to him to talk to Captain Fowler, he dismissed it entirely. While Fowler and Hank were good friends, the man still made Connor a little nervous, as such a significant and direct authority figure. Besides which, they didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Then the thought occurred to him again, and again, his mind wandering back to it periodically – almost every time the topic came up, including twice when Hank asked why he’d so suddenly stopped talking about it.

Eventually, he gave in and awkwardly suggested that Hank go on ahead – he wanted to talk to Captain Fowler about something before they left. It wasn’t even technically a lie. Hank gave him a weird look, but went on easily enough.

Connor waited another minute or two once he’d gone, working up his nerves, and then went to knock on Fowler’s office door. He waited for permission, and then went inside.

Captain Fowler was packing up for the day, but he turned to Connor as he entered, one eyebrow raised. “Connor,” he greeted briskly. “What is it that couldn’t wait for tomorrow?”

Connor fidgeted, and Fowler’s eyebrow raised further.

“Captain,” he said at last, uncomfortable. “May I ask you a personal question?”

Fowler stared at him.

“Hank warned me about your personal questions,” he said at last, sardonic, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Then, “Sure, shoot.”

Connor swallowed, letting his gaze fall to the ground, and hesitated long enough for Fowler to clear his throat impatiently.

“Do you… have any advice, about coming out?” he asked, soft and so embarrassed that his voice was only a little louder than a whisper.

There was a long moment of complete silence, and Connor tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Coming out,” Fowler said slowly, almost incredulously. “As LGBT?”

Connor nodded without looking up.

“You know I’m married to my work,” Fowler said, with no hint that it was a joke at all. Still, Connor smiled a little.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your husband is an ex-con.”

Fowler snorted, and another long, interminable minute passed. It occurred to Connor, belatedly, that Hank may have been messing with him.

“Sure,” Fowler said finally, and Connor started, looking up with more surprise than he wanted to admit to. Fowler didn’t quite look sympathetic, but he certainly appeared more forgiving than he had a minute ago, if still a little bemused. He dropped back into his chair, and gestured for Connor to sit in the one across from him. “I assume you heard I’m gay from Hank, he’s one of maybe three people that know that joke – he tell you how I came out?”

Connor shook his head. “Only that you did it the day gay marriage was initially legalized.”

“It made for a good opener,” Fowler agreed, and he seemed to be settling into the conversation, arms crossing. “Ideally, you’d test the waters first, see where they stand before you go all-in. Have you talked to Hank yet? I mean, I assume this is about Hank first and foremost.”

“Not about… me,” Connor said hesitantly, still fidgeting with his sleeve. But it was reassuring, Fowler’s easy acceptance – and, for some reason, the fact that he’d taken it for granted that Hank was that important to Connor, that Connor would be thinking of him. “But I’d been watching some documentaries, and he talked about his stance then.”

Fowler huffed a little, and Connor thought he might’ve been amused.

“Hank’s not a bad guy,” he said grudgingly. “It sounds like he handled that part for you, maybe on purpose.” He shrugged. “Once I knew where he stood, I told him I was glad I’d be able to get married now. It’s a little easier to be blunt, if you can bring yourself to.”

Connor could be blunt; Hank complained rather often that he was too much so.

“And if I… didn’t want to?” he asked, uncertain despite himself.

Fowler sighed, but he didn’t seem resentful; instead, he settled in, and they kept talking.

---------

Connor made dinner for Hank most days, when he could get away with it, so that seemed like the obvious place to start: he made something nicer than usual, with less mind to nutritional information and more to Hank’s tastes, and waited for him to be most of the way done before he spoke.

Hank seemed to pick up on his mood, maybe because he couldn’t completely stop his LED from flickering nervously every so often, and he ate scrolling absently through his phone instead of fielding Connor’s usual conversation.

“Hank,” Connor said at last, his strain not quite coming through to his voice, “may I tell you something personal?”

Hank shut off his phone immediately, flipped it so the screen faced down, and raised an eyebrow at Connor. “That’s new,” he said mildly. Connor’s expression pinched a little, and his face immediately took on an apologetic cast and he waved Connor on.

Connor fidgeted, weaving his coin around and around his fingers, rocking slightly with his feet tucked under him.

“I talked to Chloe,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat and spoke a little clearer, though without looking at Hank. “About, ah, exploring one’s identity, since she has the most experience – she had some good advice, I think, and I’ve been… thinking.”

He faltered again, but Hank didn’t move to interrupt, though one eyebrow had crooked up a little. He’d stopped eating, but when Connor’s gaze flickered down again, he resumed.

“I react differently to North than the other Jericho leaders,” he said, and he knew it was a touch scattered, didn’t entirely make sense, but he couldn’t help it; all of his careful scripting seemed to have deleted itself. “I understand some of it, but there’s no reason for me to get so flustered around them and not around North. And there was that worker at the animal shelter, and it was so strange that I was so easily distracted…”

He was fidgeting harder even as he trailed off, one hand coming up to tug at his ear, which was a new one. It was always hard for Connor to come to terms with any part of his identity, let alone one which was supposed to be so big.

Hank didn’t seem to be silently laughing at him, which was a blessing, but he wasn’t otherwise reacting either.

Fowler had suggested he be blunt, if he could.

“I think I’m gay,” he said at last, gaze intent on the table. “Most likely. It’s, um, consistent with everything I’ve noticed so far.”

And then he fell silent. After a few moments, he heard Hank put his fork down and glanced up anxiously. Hank looked contemplative, gaze piercing in a way that was unique to him. Connor analyzed his expression, and he didn’t seem dubious, or irritated or… anything but pensive.

“Whatever you figure makes you happy, kid,” Hank said at last, and his eyes crinkled into a fond and faintly amused expression he took on mostly when he thought Connor was overcomplicating something simple. “You know I ain’t gonna hold anything like that against you.”

Connor beamed at him, feeling the tension drain out of his shoulders like a weight falling away.

“I know,” he said sincerely, because for all his worries he’d never really expected that Hank would be angry.

---------

Almost a month after Connor came out to Hank, Alicia finally made her move, after several months of flustered conversation and furtive looks.

She caught Connor just at the end of the work day, by his desk as he was packing up. It wasn’t quite the first time, so he paused, giving her a faintly expectant look. She was pink, barely enough to be noticeable, but she seemed more determined than usual, he thought.

“Hey, Connor,” Alicia said, her tone a touch lower and quicker than it was talking to anyone else. “Would you like to meet after work, um, at that android-run coffee shop? Blue Bean Café? I know they have some good thirium drinks they recently put up for sale.”

Connor hesitated, watching her for a long moment.

“As a date?” he clarified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hank go still, watching Connor to see how he’d react.

She nodded quickly, eyes hopeful.

He considered, tugging lightly at his social protocols for help until he finally came to a decision.

“I’m sorry, Alicia,” he said apologetically, deliberately keeping his focus on her to the exclusion of anyone else. “I recently concluded that I’m gay, so going out with you would be under quite false pretenses.” He smiled at her gently, trying to be reassuring even as his chest squeezed nervously. “But your suggestion was very thoughtful. I appreciate it.”

Alicia blinked rapidly, and Connor winced as he saw the dawn of humiliation start to appear in her eyes before she visibly forced it down and gave him a strained smile.

“Oh dear, that’s embarrassing for me,” she said, with a clear attempt at good humor. “I should have guessed, all the best ones usually are. Thanks for telling me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be rude,” Connor demurred, belying himself by glancing furtively at the rest of the bullpen. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alicia.”

“Yeah,” she agreed rapidly, glancing away, and didn’t quite run off but she did walk rather quickly.

As soon as she was gone, Tina yelled, “You owe me twenty bucks, Collins!”

“God damn it,” Ben muttered, and Connor’s wince eased into a faint smile. He’d be alright.

Hank clapped him on the back, apparently coming to the same conclusion. “Thirium drinks, huh? In the mood to celebrate?”

Connor glanced around, and no one seemed overly concerned. From the door of his office, Fowler gave him a small nod, and Tina and Reed seemed to be exchanging money as well, Reed scowling faintly.

“Maybe,” he allowed after a moment, glancing at Hank. “If you don’t mind.”

“Anything to break you out of your rut, kid,” Hank jabbed. “God knows you need the help.”

“I do not,” Connor objected. “I’m doing just fine.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah,” Hank agreed at last. “I guess you are.”

#dbh #connor #hank anderson #jeffrey fowler #chloe #north #markus #josh #simon #gavin reed #tina chen #fanfiction #my writing

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getaroomyouheck · 5 years ago

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wrote a review for Hospice by The Antlers

(little precursor to this review, it's rather emotional and personal, maybe also upsetting, kinda stream of consciousness at points too. so a warning in advance) The beginning to 2020 has been one of the roughest moments of my entire life, honestly speaking it's the most aimless and fucking lost I've felt in a while. My grandfather essentially gave up on living and now simply just sits and waits for his eventual death, taking a toll on me, but specifically my mom. Having heard her anger but eventually just simply harrowed emotion of seeing her father at this state. Alongside this, I've almost felt momentary lapses of reason, moments where I feel back in my hollow shell of a body left behind by ones who hurt me in my past, people i once called friends as well as my abusive ex-girlfriend. Broken promises, lies, empty betrayals, actions that left me afraid of human touch. Combined together, the past month I barely even felt like myself, just a shell of who I should be. Yet at this endless sea of wander, I've come to realize something. Something that has helped me begin to finally feel like myself again. Something that I would've only found through the help of this album. So, I want to talk about it, and really go into what it means to me Hospice is, at it's core, an album about abuse, trauma, and the psychological reparations of broken relationships. From the first words sung on Kettering to the final refrain of Epilogue, this albums breathes and bleeds raw emotion as it's main sense of catharsis and sense of meaning. The concept of this album is one that's simple enough to grasp, our narrator (I'll call him Peter since the lead singer of The Antlers is named Peter), is a nurse at a hospice. He falls in love with Sylvia, a woman who is fatally dying of cancer, and the album from Kettering to Epilogue explores their degrading love, her abuse towards him as she withers, and her eventual death. The conceptual narrative to Hospice is one that, while strong and fully developed across the 10 songs present, is second-nature to why this album hits as hard as it does. Where this album hits closest to me, is in how uncompromising its portrayal of abuse, toxic love, and psychological damage on a fragile mind, ends up being, that is what makes Hospice stand above most of its contemporaries. The prologue to the album, while a beautiful instrumental chop that sets the mood, to me, isn't really where this album begins. The true beginning, lies in our 2nd track. Kettering Within this bubble of echoed piano chords, comes our first signs of what's to come. Peter's frail, broken falsetto's, speaking over what little he knew getting into this relationship. It's a unceasing icy reminder of anguish, each hit of the chord being another lie told, another object thrown, another vicious word spat out in agony, all containing this soft yet obvious punctum to their hits. In this dirge of utter misery, Peter spills out from his heart true bleeding words of what abuse really represents. You wish you knew what you would've gotten yourself into when you became a piece of this other persons life, you wish you had the foresight to know you're just one person, that you can't save them from their own demons. Yet, you still try anyways, in an unceasing hope that you might just be able to bring them closure. From Kettering onwards to about Shiva, we get more of a standard fare of what was presented prior There's an inquantifiable amount of depth I can get into. How Atrophy perfectly captures the justification of abuse from the victim, showing what it means to accept ones abuse as a warped sense of adoration. How Bear is a dichotomy of a soft, broken lullaby alongside this crashing chorus of fuzzy guitars, accurately representing the broken home a child would grow up in. How Two is a horrifyingly real portrayal of the false world and broken promises made manifest into a reality crafted by the abuser and the victim, the private life of suffering never to be seen. And especially, how Epilogue painfully captures the cycle of abuse and the clammy throes of falling for the lies and soft words of your abuser simply to let them hurt you more. Yet, the song I want to discuss the most here, is Wake Wake is, a song I can't fully even begin to describe. The sound of this song is haunting to the fullest degree. The lifeless breaths of a dying corpse always cutting through the lowkey instrumentation to which Peter lays bare the reality of being alone as his abuser has left him. This song sounds almost like a suicide note, like a final recording before taking ones own life. The pulsating, rythmic drumbeat feels as if it's a heartbeat, ready to cease on a lifeline. Layered vocals represent that of a Wake, the social circle around a funeral. It's steeped in the clammy hands of death and throes deeply in the jaws of abuse, the breath of death is fresh always present on the words Peter sings. Yet, lyrically, it doesn't mean that at all. This song is not a cry for help, but rather a championing cry for learning to open about the pain inflicted to you, that it's ok to speak, that some people can't be saved, but that's not your burden to bear. It all crashes into what is maybe one of the most powerful moments in all of music to me, one that without fail, makes me cry. Peter, repeatedly, with more and more strain and power to his voice, screams out "Don't ever let anyone tell you you deserve that" as it all washes away in this final maelstrom of emotion. The crashing cymbals, the layering ascending horns, the cutting piano chords, the choired vocals, this song is the beginning of letting go of the anguish that's festered deep inside you. This song, after 8 songs of utter pain and abuse, being hurt and apologizing to the one hurting you, is representative of finally beginning to realize what you had was broken, but accepting it's ok to find someone to listen to you, and finally taking that step forward. Finally, walking out that door, letting people in, and beginning to accept what you are for who you are. This song, to me, helps represent the emotions surging through me as i finally began opening up to my friends and current girlfriend about how I was emotionally abused and sexually harassed by my ex. How I began to trust and learn to accept the touch of another human. How I learned to realize I'm more than just what she saw me as. Wake is more than just a song to me, rather Wake is the culmination of learning to move forward from grief and toxic love, and try to begin again, maybe wishing you could change the past, but willing to move forward all the same This is what Hospice taught me, and what truly clicked with me as I listened to it this past month and a half. As much as I may want to, I can never go back in time and change the mistakes I made in my youth. I can never go back and stop myself from making friends with people who would only feed into my depression and suicidal ideation. I can never go back and stop myself from dating someone who would end up nearly raping me. I can never go back in time and speak with my grandpa before he gave up on his own life. But, what I can do, is move forward in spite of this pain, in spite of this grief, and learn to love again, to laugh again, to trust again, to continue facing forward anything that may ever face me. Hospice taught me that while I may have endured anguish, I'm still here despite it, and can still keep moving forward. That this burden isn't mine to brunt alone. That it's ok for me, to let people in Favorite songs: Kettering, Sylvia, Atrophy, Bear, Two, Wake (standout), Epilogue Least fav song: N/A

#aidens taste in music #album analysis #the antlers #hospice #long post #tw sensitive material #tw

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whyamistillwatchingtheseshows · 5 years ago

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TayNew, Someone You Loved! MAKE ME SUFFER!!!

Tay understood growing apart. As an adult, that’s the shit you have to learn. It’s the mind-numbing pain that no one warned him about. That ache when someone who had always been there is gone, no not just that. They’ve disappeared. Tay had once said, “Time will tell.” Here’s time and what it did: That closeness changed, it became awkward. Tay didn’t like to use the fans as his source, but hell, they were an observant bunch. He and Newwie used to FaceTime for hours before. Now, it’s a text that says hey. It’s stupid small talk. Six years and a friendship could be barely salvaged. They’ve been through that dance. The will they, won’t they? Tay looked at his phone. No messages. Tay was busy doing promotion shoots for his show 3 Will Be Free, but usually, Newwie was blowing up his phone. Nothing.

His co-star Joss appeared beside him. “What’s up?” He noticed anguish on his friend’s face.

“Nothing,” Tay took a deep breath. “Want to practice?”

“Practice what? I’m sure we all have modeling in the bag,” Joss laughed. Tay had completely forgotten what he was doing and where he was. That’s how far his mind drifts, back to the what ifs, to a time where nothing had to be defined and they just were. Joss noticed Tay clenching his fists. “Whoa,” he placed a hand to a shoulder. “You calm buddy?”

Tay gave him a death glare and Joss held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. I’ll back off.” Joss left him there. Tay felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He excitedly looked at it. Why had he expected it to be Newwie? That guy was probably with this supposed girlfriend, with someone other than him. What’s that drowning feeling? It’s as if you’re breathing but drowning at the same time. His phone vibrated again and this time it was Newwie.

He opened the text: Are you busy?

Doing a photo shoot. What’s up? Keep it simple. It’s not a declaration of love. It’s not, hey, I love you. Come back to me. Tay Tawan you’re fucking 28, why are you acting like a 16-year-old?

I was wondering if you could help me. Shit. With what?

Sure, what is it?

Can you come shopping me with? Oh, this is good. This is closer to the way before.

Yeah, when?

Sunday. I need to buy a gift for my girlfriend.

Tay almost threw his phone across the room. He hit himself on the head with it instead.

Um, Sunday? Sorry, I’m busy that day. We’re lying. Okay, but it hurts to be near him. It hurts to be away from him, what a fucking double-edged sword.

Tay appeared before New. He was surprised since he was told by his friend that he’d be busy.

“You came anyway? Change your plans?” New asked him.

“Yeah, I figured you either really couldn’t choose or you needed my money. Hmm,” Tay managed to joke with him.

“I thought I was the bank to you,” New raised an eyebrow at him.

“Eh, uh, yeah, whatever. What are you getting?”

“Oh, she likes knick knacks. Something to put on a shelf and display. Since she likes dolphins I was thinking of something with that.”

Tay suddenly realized this was a bad idea. It was going to be endless drivel about her. It’s not that he was jealous. No, okay, maybe it’s a part of it, but Tay felt like he’d been tricked. The wool over his eyes. That’s what he gets for letting his guard down. Sure, it was unintentional and New has no clue how he truly feels...yeah, this was a bad idea.

“Where shall we start?” Tay’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when Newwie hooked his arm.

“I have to go.”

“Why?” Newwie whined. “We don't hang out like this anymore. Come on,” he shook against Tay’s side. “Aren’t I still your P?”

“You’re someone I love and I can’t help you buy gifts for someone else.” The confession spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“In a mall?” New shook his head. “All right, we’ll have this talk.”

“I want us back to the way before. Even if it was fan service, I liked how we were during the filming of our food show.”

“Not all of it was fan service.” The confession was out of New’s mouth before he could stop it.

“Don't give me hope, if there is none, New.” Tay was using his serious voice now. New chuckled. “I’m leaving,” Tay suddenly said. New didn’t know how to stop him.

New’s girlfriend laid against his shoulder. That made it difficult to stalk Tay on Instagram. He scoffed to himself. Wow, what a terrible boyfriend. Thinking about someone else while the other is right there. Great, good on you, New. His phone buzzed. A text from Tay.

Can we talk?

I’ll come over.

New ran out of the building and to his car before his girlfriend made any objections. You really are a terrible boyfriend to her anyway.

“Tell me you remember Valentine’s Day?” New wasn’t expecting to be prodded with such a loaded question right from the beginning.

“How could I forget?”

“So none of those feelings are there any more? Because this someone else crap came out of nowhere. I was getting used to us. I was getting used to the way we argued but loved each other. I was getting used to the way you got frustrated when I didn’t clean up my mess. By the way, it’s an organized mess. It just gets that way and then I-”

“Then you get pissed off and clean it up. I know,” New smiled. “You are the King of Procrastination.”

“Am I? I feel like a hardworker.”

“Who will do a lot of things last minute. Generally, everything still turns out all right.”

“Let’s go back to before. To the days where I don't feel helpless, lost and aching. Come back to me, Newwie.”

This would be the hardest thing that New has ever done. He couldn’t believe he was doing it when it happened, but he just left. Tay stood there staring at the door. Then he banged his fists against it, choking back tears. He slumped to the floor, his head hitting the door a little too hard. He grimaced, but that pain was nothing. That was minimal compared to that feeling of going under, the numbness. The ache. Tay didn’t know, but in the hallway New had slumped to the floor against the door as well. He couldn’t face that conversation while also being with someone else. If Tay went any further, New would make a mistake. A mistake, a tempting mistake... New’s mind drifted to Valentine’s Day. Tay’s lips against his, and it was only the two of them in the world. Nothing else mattered. Where’d that go? When did he want someone else? Why did he want someone else? When did he become so afraid of his feelings for Tay?

Tay also now understood that ache. It was the ache of wanting someone to save you. Wanting someone to hold. Wanting someone to be the cure for the pain. Tay never thought it wise to rely on someone that much, but he gave his all to Newwie. There was a time when Tay was never that outspoken or that animated. He learned to open up because of Newwie, even though, it didn’t seem as if they learned anything from each other. They’d earned the reputation of being the “Queens of Banter.” They didn’t care about the title. They owned up to it because if anyone knows Chess, the Queen is the most powerful player. Tay chuckled at his own thought. Then he heard scuffling outside the door. He jumped up and opened it.

New fell back onto the floor. He looked up at Tay. A hand was offered to help him. New took it. Hands still being held they stood there staring at each other. Tay was going to lean in for it. He was going for it. All or nothing. New denied him by turning his face.

“Patience,” New told him. “There’s a girlfriend I have to speak to first.”

“Don't fuck with me because I won’t be able to handle that.”

“I’m not fucking with you. Just give it time.” Tay didn’t like to give things time. After all, time eventually bit him in the ass. He held onto his anger a moment then let out in a deep breath. The anger shouldn’t be directed at Newwie. It really wasn’t his fault.

“One kiss?” Tay begged before New could actually leave.

“No.”

Tay huffed. “Fine. I’ll just wallow then until you sort it out. Tonight?”

“My oh my someone needs to calm down. No, it won’t be tonight. But soon.” New wrapped his arms around Tay’s neck for a hug. Tay melted into it and New had to fight his way out of his grasp.

Soon. One word changed everything.

#long post #taynew #my writing #man I love this fic request thing #haha #also I head canon a cursing Tay #or maybe that's just something I willingly pay to hear in English of course #hehe

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dyaz-stories · 6 years ago

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Inukag Week: Day three — Haunted

So this is another take on my one-shot Truth. I had received some harsh criticism, but I think it was... Well, it made a lot of sense. Anyway, this version of it fits my current view and opinion on this situation better. I have at least a third version of what could have happened in mind, which would actually be the most satisfying one for me, but this angsty version will do for now.

Enjoy!

Disdain. Disdain in her voice and in her eyes.

“You made your choice and I will not thank you.”

Kagome just couldn’t get the words to get out of her throat, despite everything she wanted to say. Why? Why did you think I wouldn’t save you? Didn’t I do it every time? Didn’t I always do my best to help you? Didn’t I always insisted for Inuyasha to go after you? Why do you think I’m such a terrible person?

Am I such a terrible person?

The words echoed in her head, but none of them managed to make it to the other woman who was standing on the bank, staring at her. Judging her.

But then the water under her turned into an abyss, and somehow she was floating above it. She couldn’t move though, completely at the other woman’s mercy.

“You are me. It’s better if there is only one of us here.”

She started falling.

Kagome screamed.

She sat up straight in her sleeping bag, breathing ragged, both hands slapped against her mouth in order to stop herself from making a sound.

It wasn’t the first time she had had that dream. It had stopped confusing her a long time ago, too. There were just a few people that had left such a terrifying mark on her, and she hated it, but she could easily guess why.

Mukotsu, for example, was a pretty obvious one. So was the Infant, though him and Naraku didn’t populate her dreams all that much.

And then, there was Kikyo. It had taken her a while to understand just where that came from. At first, there had been her attempt to kill her, of course, but she wasn’t the only one — far from that actually. So why was Kikyo the one she remembered?

Well, it wasn’t that hard, though it was undoubtedly a painful realization.

Because with Kikyo, she was never sure whether or not Inuyasha would do something about it.

Speaking of which, she was surprised he hadn’t pounced on her yet, worrying about her, asking her what was going on. She glanced around, and her heart dropped when she didn’t find him.

With her. He was with her.

She couldn’t sleep at night because of her, and he had no problem whatsoever sneaking out to go meet with her. And, sure, he didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t the only thing she’d done. She’d given their nemesis the Jewel, endangering Miroku’s life, prolonging Sango’s suffering, but no, God forbid someone said it out loud.

She was feeling sick.

The feeling that erupted in her stomach and in her chest, making her lean forward, both hands pressed against her heart to try do something about that horrible sensation, wasn’t jealousy.

It was pain. The purest, most horrible pain that she had ever felt.

She wouldn’t cry. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry over this again. She was a big girl; she could understand that Inuyasha wasn’t over Kikyo, she could understand that it was possible to love more than one person at a time, she could…

She couldn’t understand why she let herself be hurt like that. Sure, she didn’t think about it all the time, and sure, there were moments that were just good but the situation was always floating in the back of her mind, slowly corrupting everything that was good about her relationship with Inuyasha.

At some point, the high just wasn’t worth the pain anymore.

Still— he didn’t know. She couldn’t blame him for something she didn’t know. But that secret was threatening to swallow her entirely.

She had to tell him.

When Inuyasha came back, as the first lights of dawn could be seen above the horizon, he found her, with her head low, arms around her knees. She was obviously waiting for him, but she didn’t seem to notice him until he was right in front of her. Only then did she look up, a strange, sad look in her eyes. She always looked sad, when he went back after leaving Kikyo, but there was something different today.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, and it almost frightened him, the way he just didn’t have any access to her thoughts right now. He could always tell, somewhat, how she felt, but she felt completely closed to him at the moment.

“Kagome?”

She smiled at him softly, but he could tell immediately that it was fake, and it was such a rare sight that it almost sent a shiver down his spine, immediately followed by an intense feeling of guilt. It was his fault. He saw her faltering every time he went to Kikyo, saw her trying to get her strength back afterwards, and he’d considered, time and time again, telling her to stay in her era. He couldn’t stand watching her like this and knowing he was the cause for her suffering.

She couldn’t tell either what he was thinking as he looked back, shoulders low, but she was used to it when things had to do with Kikyo. She could never tell whether it was only her wishful thinking or if she was seeing things as worse than they were. Did he even think about her before leaving? Did he spare a thought for her, or did she disappear so completely from his concerns, the second Kikyo entered his mind?

“H-how did it go?”

She didn’t know what answer she wanted. “Nothing”, maybe, but at the same time she could never believe it; or “A kiss; I love her”, which would break her heart once and for all, but at least then she’d be free.

“Keh! How d’ya think it went?” Inuyasha let himself fall to the ground next to her, looking down decidedly. “Nothin’ happened. We just talked about Naraku, that’s all.” There was moment before he added, “Nothing ever happens.” He sounded sure of himself, but also slightly pleading, like he needed her to believe it, and Kagome felt a smile make its way on her face.

Right now, under the soft and warm light of the sun, the night’s anguish seemed stupid and far away. He was there by her side now, wasn’t he? There was no need to make things more complicated — especially for him. He didn’t deserve any of that, and she had carried that weight on her shoulders just fine until now, hadn’t she?

“I’m sorry, y’know.”

She blinked. That… wasn’t like him. But when she glanced at him, he was looking at the ground, probably doing her best to avoid his eyes so he could carry on with what he had to say.

“I don’t want to hurt ya. I never want to hurt ya. That’s… It’s not like that, with Kikyo. She’s not… She’s not you.”

It did leave her surprised, for a second. She’d always seen things the other way around — hadn’t even dared thinking he could view them differently. It did lift a great weight off her shoulders, but jealousy had never been the only problem. She smiled at him again.

“Thanks, Inuyasha. It means a lot.”

She wasn’t going to say it. She’d sound like a jealous girlfriend who tried to keep him away from his ex, and that was the last thing she wanted — and it would kill her if he didn’t believe her.

“What’s on your mind then?”

She practically jumped at the question. “Noth—”

“I can tell, Kagome. I’d understand, y’know, if you wanted to stay in your world.”

He sounded miserable, and she felt her shoulders dropping a little more.

“It’s not about you,” she managed to mumble, knowing there would be no going back after she opened her mouth. “W-well, I mean, you don’t know about it.”

Okay, he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. “The fuck d’ya mean?” he growled.

She took a deep breath. The truth was, she did want him away from Kikyo. She did feel jealous; it was definitely part of the problem. But she would have endured the jealousy, if it was the only thing there.

“Do you remember the night she stole the Jewel from me?”

She heard him draw a sharp breath. “You know she has a pl—”

“She tried to kill me that night.”

There was only silence for a few moments, and it felt like her entire body and soul were collapsing when he didn’t respond.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

She didn’t want the venom in her voice to be there. She shouldn’t even have said that — but his silence was terrifying her, and it now sounded like she was daring him. Which probably wasn’t any better, she realized. It probably seemed like she was trying to convince him and oh, God, what if he thought she was trying to manipulate him?

But Inuyasha remained silent, and she bit her lip harshly, trying not to cry. She understood just then that she wouldn’t be able to take it. If he didn’t believe her, if nothing changed, she… She didn’t know what she would do.

“Kikyo would never have done that,” he mumbled, and her heart broke, a sob finally escaping her lips.

Immediately though, his arms were around her, his chest pressed against her back as he engulfed her in a hug.

“I’m sorry you never got to meet her when she was alive.” He went silent again, his grip tightening around her, and Kagome managed to take a slow, trembling breath. She did feel guilty, somewhere, for him, but that was the thing. She wasn’t doing this for him.

She was doing this for herself.

But she still held onto his arms like his life depended on it.

The soul collectors came back a few days later, and for once, she was awake, with the rest of the group, which came off as a surprise to her. Inuyasha was standing apart from the group, and she heard Shippo mumble about how he should go already, but after awhile, what was happening became obvious.

Inuyasha wasn’t moving.

She walked to him slowly, hesitantly, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

“You can go, you know.”

God, no. She didn’t want him to go. She couldn’t imagine what it’d do to her if he went. Still, she said it, and she instantly hated herself for being the one who caused herself the most pain.

He shot her a dark glare.

“You think I want to go after what you told me?”

She winced at the anger in his voice.

“I— I don’t want you to stop yourself for me.”

He rolled his eyes. “She tried to kill you, Kagome. And I’m…” He glanced away from her for a second. “I’m going to protect her, just like I said, because of the woman she was. But I ain’t meeting with her.”

“Y-you should—”

“I ain’t going.”

She ended up nodding silently. She didn’t feel good about it, and she certainly didn’t feel victorious, but she couldn’t express the relief that bloomed in her chest.

It would have destroyed her if he had gone to meet the woman who had tried to kill her while knowing it.

She could see his tight jaw, his clenched fists, and she knew how hard it was for him, and she was sorry about it. So slowly, silently, she moved her arms around his waist and rested her head agains his back. He sighed and closed his eyes, entangling his fingers with her.

A door was closing; he could feel it almost physically. But another one was opening, and it was time for him to let go of the ghosts of the past.

#inukag week #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #my writing #angst

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years ago

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The Timbre Of Cruelty & Kindness

James thinks about the Galra and their hand in the war. Celebrating a birthday with his mute girlfriend helps put things into perspective.

I haven't seen many works for Acxa/James and wanted to make a little something. Didn't know what to write though so I ended up using a random word generator and got, 'mute'. Thus this fic was born.

James has seen it firsthand, the cruelty of the Galra military. Seen it in the demolished planets left desolate and smoldering. He has felt it when their shots rocked his craft and when their blades sliced at his back. He smelled it in the acidic plumes left in the wake of their warships and battlegrounds. In the rotting carnage they left behind. He has even tasted it. Tasted the toxins on his tongue, the blood in his mouth at a rough punch form a bulking, hulk of a soldier.

But he hadn’t truly heard the cruelty of the Glara military until he heard the silence.

Her silence.

He has always thought that he’d first hear the cruelty of the Empire in the screams of a battle, in the anguished cries of fallen Balmaras, humans, Krellians, and whatever other species they had gone after. Or maybe he would hear it in the lonely hiss of the wind as it passes through a now desolate and dead Olkari.

He hadn’t considered that he would hear the cruelty on such a personal level.

Acxa is a quiet woman, she has been since Veronica first introduced them.

He remembers holding out his hand and the Galra simply staring at it until Veronica tells her that shaking hands is one type of greeting. He recalls her silent and reluctant return of the gesture.

And that had been that.

At first he had tried to coax conversation out of her. But she never returned it save for a few nods. Over time, James has grown used to her silence. At one point he had come to accept that she is simply a woman of few to no words at all.

Over time he learns that he doesn’t have it entirely right.

.oOo.

She sleeps, propped up against him.

He thinks that it might just be the soundest sleep she has gotten in a while.

He watches the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional twitch of her lips, as she mumbles something in her sleep without making any tangible sound at all.

James hopes that her dream conversation is pleasant.

Acxa shifts positions a few times before before her eyes flutter open and she peers up at him. She musters a sleepy but kind smile.

He doesn’t understand how they could have hurt someone like her and felt nothing for it.

She pulls herself up right, turns to face him, and gives his head an affectionate pat with a brighter smile. The same sort she had offered him after he had handed her the plush toy he’d won on clear day.

She had hugged it to her chest with a joyful sort of half-coo, half-pur.

She still sleeps with the thing in her arms, he’d be lying if he tried to say it hadn’t made him at least a little jealous at one point. He didn’t know how she could snuggle that ugly thing and not him. He’d come to find that it was simply easier for her to show affection to things that had no sentiance. Eventually, though, she had set the stuffed critter aside and started cuddling him like that.

Today, she has taken to waving the hideous stuffed animal in his face until he takes it from her and sets it aside. With it out of the way, he gives her nose a small kiss and waits for the flush to appear on her cheeks as it so often does when she receives any kind of affection.

She smiles and returns the gesture before signing a thank you.

That has been an obstacle.

James barely passed his high school Spanish class. But then, he hadn’t been exactly motivated to learn a second language. Learning sign language had been somehow different, Galra sign language at that. He found that there were some similarities between human signing and Galra signing, but they were still vastly different. There are some signs that he physically cannot produce with human anatomy. But that is fine, he just needs to know what she is signing to him.

Acxa is cheerful, her eyes are so bright, accented by a smile that lights her entire face. It is a stark contrast to the mournful Galra who’d first come to them. She tugs out of his hold and pulls him into standing. The only warning he gets, before being tugged along, is a gesture to follow. She doesn’t exactly give him time to register the motion nor to recall the meaning of that sign, but he puts two and two together as she leads him down the hall.

It is her birthday, he recalls, and she seems to be as enthusiastic as he was for Christmas morning when he was eight. He thinks that this might be the first time she has even a chance at a kind and warm birthday. It will be the first, he realizes, in three years that she isn’t spending alone.

Much of the Atlas’ inhabitants are gathered in the cafeteria for her birthday breakfast. She looks adorably perplexed at the display. He wonders if the Glara has ever seen balloons and streamers before. He guesses that she hasn’t because she hits one of the balloons back and forth, with her head slightly tilted.

He knows that she has never interacted with a balloon before when one of her little claws punctures the balloon and she jolts back.

For a moment, she looks as though she has committed some horrible sin. With a chuckle, Keith speaks up first, “Yeah, that happens a lot, they are easy to pop. Balloons and Galra claws don’t mix very well.”

Acxa nods but she still looks terribly baffled. ‘Why are they wearing cones?’ She signs.

“They’re called party hats.” James replies.

“You get one too.” Veronica proclaimed as she slips one over Acxa’s right horn.

‘But, why?’ She asks.

James doesn’t have an answer for her so he shrugs and says, “it’s just an Earth tradition.” He leads her to her seat.

“I made some confetti pancakes for you.” Hunk states. “My mom always made them for me on my birthday. She even let me have strawberries and whip cream.” He sets the whip cream before her and a platter of fruits for her to choose from.

“Try it with bananas.” James suggests. “I think that bananas and pancakes go well together.”

She takes his word for it, and seems delighted by his suggestion. She offers him a bite and, after adding an absurd amount of whip cream for just a small piece, he eats it. He rubs her shoulders as she finishes her meal.

He considers for a moment, how eating had been something he used to take for granted. When they had first found her, Acxa struggled to do even that. For a time she could only eat liquid foods and things that melted in her mouth.

He gives a slight shudder, she had been in poor condition when they’d found her. Metnally and physically. He had begun to fear that her psyche had been damaged beyond repair. Looking at her now, he wouldn’t have been able to guess that she’d suffered any sort of trauma.

After she finishes her breakfast, Lance showers her with a glimmering cloud of glitter and confetti. She picks up one of the metallic flakes and inspects it for a moment before looking to James for an explanation.

She has so many questions and he doesn’t know how to answer the why’s. He just knows that confetti is a party must, and so he tosses it every now and again. He pulls out his phone. “Let’s just say people like throwing things at other people.” He replies after skimming through a lengthy wiki article about medieval Italian parade rituals.

Again Acxa cocks her head, but she accepts the answer with a shrug. He is certain that she will research it herself later on. He watches her push the confetti around with her finger. He isn’t sure who, but someone turns the radio on.

By the time the party reaches its height, Acxa seems to have settled into things. It almost seemed as though she has had a human style birthday celebration before. He has his arm around her waist as she socalizes, doing her best to uphold a few conversations at once. He struggles to pick up on the conversation with Veronica and Keith--who have developed such talents for Galra sign language that it is hard to keep up with the speed. He can tell that it brings his girlfriend a sense of reassurance.

She has normalcy back in her life.

A sort of normalcy anyways.

The kind that she expressed that she didn’t think she would ever have again after they had cut her tongue.

Dressed in what must be custom-fit pajamas--ones that she has just uncovered from a box wrapped with shiny, balloon-print wrapping paper-she crawls onto her bed. He knows that, though she seemed to have enjoyed herself, she is tired and has reached her threshold of social interaction for the week.

Even still, she pats a spot on the bed next to her and James comes to join her.

He hugs the woman and kisses her ear. She picks up one of the other presents she has received, an ornate picture frame. She holds up her hands and begins her soundless speech. This time he doesn’t know what she is trying to say.

“You had a good time?” He asks.

She shakes her head and repeats her motions.

“You hated it and never want to have another birthday party again.”

This time after shaking her head, she points at the picture frame.

“You want to exchange it for a better gift, but you don’t want to hurt Kinkade’s feelings?” He guesses.

Acxa sighs and gently puts her palm to her forehead. She tries once more.

“That is your favorite gift and you want me to tell Kinkade that he is your new best friend?”

She is growing frustrated, but he can detect a hint of amusement at his horrid translations. She sighs again, this time with words. She is still rather hard to understand, especially her ‘S’ words.

“You want me to send you a picture of us?” He asks.

She nods, ‘so I can frame it’, she adds in sign.

“I will.” He replies.

She nods again and lays herself down, rubbing her cheek into the pillow. He pulls the blanket over her.

It has been a long time since he has heard her speak, he had been beginning to forget how she sounds. Through rather extensive surgery and therapy has recovered her vocal ability, to some extent anyhow. But her speech is often garbled and hard to make out. Her ability to properly shape the words is lost to her. It sounds as though she still has her tongue, but she is trying to speak with it pressed to the bottom of her mouth.

He remembers her stating that she doesn’t like the sound of her voice anymore, that the quality of her speech makes her seem illiterate. So she sticks to her signing unless someone really struggles to interpret it. Even then, he has seen her fetch something to write or type on.

Acxa only every vocally communicates with he, Keith, and Veronica these days.

He wishes that she would speak more, he still finds her voice to be soothing. But he doesn’t push her.

He lays down in front of her and cups a hand to her cheek. She mimics the motion, her feeling of her claws sending a pleasant tingle down his spine. She gives him a sleepy smile. Looking into those eyes, he wonders, again, how they can be so cruel.

How they could go out of their way to try to take the lively glimmer out of her eyes.

Acxa is a kind woman and, despite her rough exterior, one of the gentlest souls he has come upon.

It is hard to fathom that anyone would want to abuse her in such a way.

He has seen, felt smelled, and tasted the cruelty of the Galra Empire. Most of all, James has heard the cruelty of the Galra Empire. And it comes in the form of silence.

But he has also seen the kindness of the Galra in those kind smiles, in the shelters she and the blade had helped construct for those who’d lost theirs to the war. He has felt it in those small gestures; the way she nuzzles closer, the way she holds him--it is as tender and loving as any human he has known. He has smelled the kindness of the Galra in the strange flowers she gives him and has tasted in when she offered him a traditional dish or two. He had been able to tell that she had worked hard on them.

Most of all, he has heard it.

Heard a unique Galra brand of affection and care.

He has heard it in her, sheepish and broken speech.

#Voltron #Acxa #James Griffin #Acxa/James #Fanfiction #One Shot

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reylosource · 6 years ago

Text

A long time ago, she knew exactly what the curve of his smile meant.

Time doesn't heal all wounds.

a reylo one-shot // ao3 // thank you to @ashesforfoxes for giving it a first read ♥

You are a language I am no longer fluent in but still remember how to read. -Ashe Vernon

A long time ago, she knew exactly what the curve of his smile meant. Crooked to the side - definitely amused despite himself; lips pulled thin and tight - happy but scared for what might come. He didn't smile much then, but her favorite smile was the one he used to only give to her. An open, wide grin where she could see his imperfect teeth, often accompanied by a laugh that filled her soul and shooed away her demons.

It was the smile he had on right now, as he stared at her. Kaydel Connix. Long-term girlfriend and now fiancée of Kylo Ren, the man walking down the premiere of his latest movie: Equinox.

She didn't know when she started crying, or when he had become so comfortable on Red Carpets; his arm wrapped around Kaydel's waist and she saw how his fingers gripped her hips as if he had done it a million times.

And he had. For years.

He was no longer the man who saved his greatest smiles for her, and she reminded herself that she should be happy to see him so much more free. She had only ever weighed him down, and Rey had never been more certain of it than as she stood there that night, gripping and twisting her mic.

She had told Finn this was a bad idea. And she felt his concerned stare as he stood at her side holding the camera, thankfully silent.

"Kylo is wrapping up with the walk, he'll be here in one minute," his assistant spoke to her succinctly, without an undercurrent of wariness. She must be new then. Rey took a deep breath and schooled her features, staring down at her note cards until the words on them blurred and she saw him walk towards their small staging area out of the corner of her eye.

Steeling herself, she finally looked up. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Kylo! Thank you for gracing Legacy with your time tonight," her voice was normal and cheery, but it threatened to falter the longer he stared with the flat line of his lips shifting in thought. His eyes flashed towards Finn, and Rey rushed to fill the silence.

"It's unusual for a creator to write, direct, and star in a film - what made you take on such a massive project?"

"Catharsis," he replied finally, in that deep tone that washed over her, causing her heart to sputter. "You know, it's a story that has been evolving for years, I began writing it during a particularly dark period personally."

Rey knew exactly what he was talking about, but still asked as she moved the mic back to her mouth, "That's an interesting term to use, so you must feel as if this premiere is about more than just a movie?"

"Yes, it's about stepping out of the darkness of the winter and into an eternal spring," he gestured towards Kaydel who stood there beaming at him. "She is my Goddess of Spring that one. I owe her a great movie, and I hope I delivered."

Kaydel blew him a sweet kiss and Rey watched as his mouth curved into that grin once again. When he turned back to her, his eyes narrowed at her own - the tears were back.

"Oh dear, sorry - cold breeze hit me," she said this only for the sake of their viewers and her boss, who would absolutely be wanting the story of why her new Entertainment reporter starting crying as she interviewed the headliner of the biggest movie of Oscar season. "So what can our viewers expect to feel after watching Equinox?"

"Hopefully a sense of balance, maybe even hope. I certainly felt that way when I completed the story. However," his eyes turned flinty as he directed his next words at her. "Some people won't get anything out of it."

Rey took a beat before laughing lightly, trying to play off the intense jab in front of millions of viewers. Kylo flashed a smile she didn't recognize, that made her skin prickle with an uncertain emotion - fear, perhaps. He laughed along with her.

He was an actor, after all.

Rey turned to the camera and smiled brilliantly, "Well that's all we have time for, hopefully those of you at home are one of the lucky ones who will find hope in your viewing of Equinox - at a theater near you this Thursday!"

"Thank you for having me," Kylo said, leaning down around her shoulder into the mic, ignoring her for the camera. But as he pulled away, his hand grazed down the open spot at the back of her dress. She shivered and pulled away, watching as Finn gave her the thumbs up that they were off air and the mics were cut.

She took a deep breath and turned around to say something - anything - to Kylo, but he had disappeared and moved on to the next bright lights Red Carpet interview. As if they hadn't just seen each other for the first time in five years.

Rey watched him as much as she could as they made their way down interview row, trying to figure out what he was feeling. But she couldn't anymore, not really. He was just as much a mystery to her as he was to his fans.

A hand brushed against her shoulder and she looked over at Finn's concerned face, "You okay? Need an extra minute before the next one?"

Rey leaned into him and his arm pulled her in tight as she let the softness of the gesture cocoon her. When she finally opened her eyes after a minute of solace, she caught Kylo staring at them, hands in his pockets in a show of nonchalance. But Rey realized -

She still knew Kylo Ren after all.

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

Rey sat alone in a corner couch on the rooftop of some swanky building that housed one of the many after parties for the premiere. She had rushed out of the theater after the movie, texting Finn she was going home - but she knew an appearance was expected of her by her boss at at least one of the parties.

She had chosen the smallest one - or what should have been the smallest one.

But somehow, she and Kylo were still on the same universe wavelength and he showed up barely fifteen minutes after she did.

Alone. Thankfully.

So here she sat, alone in a corner without even a drink for company. Leaning back, she slapped her arm across her face, feeling the cool breeze whip wisps of her hair around. Letting out a loud sigh, she prayed he was just making a simple round at each party and that he would leave soon.

The cushions beside her shifted and a smell of sandalwood surrounded the air. She didn't have to hear them speak to know who it was that disturbed her anti-social respite.

"Still hiding away in corners I see," his voice was calmer than during the interview, Rey assumed that was a side-effect of having time to process seeing her for the first time in five years.

"I didn't want to come, you know."

"Didn't expect you would." A few moments passed, "Did you like the movie?"

And there it was, the thousand dollar question that Rey had been avoiding answering since the credits rolled and she saw his name repeated over and over again.

"How am I supposed to answer that, Kylo?"

"I don't know, aren't you an entertainment reporter now? Surely you have some thoughts."

The words were nonchalant, but his tone was aggressive and she moved her hand off her face to return his stare incredulously.

"Your 'catharsis'," she spat out, anger bubbling up to the surface over being put in this position. She wasn't the one seeking him out. "Was beautiful. And horribly sad. I don't see how anyone could feel hope from such a movie."

It was a masterpiece, though, and she wanted to tell him that. But they had slipped so quickly into their old rhythm that she grasped on to the kite string that was so familiar to her - an argument.

"It was written with you in mind."

"No kidding."

"I wanted you to feel anguish from it." His words slipped out with a bitterness she couldn't fault him for, but they made her stand up abruptly and face him down. Finally at a height advantage for once.

"I don't have to take this from you, I was doing everything I could to stay away from you tonight. Just leave me alone, Kylo." Her last words wobbled with more emotion than she would have liked as she turned and walked quickly to the shrouded side door inside.

She felt a hand catch her wrist and tried to pull away; he let go immediately, "If you were trying to stay away, why did I get interviewed by you tonight?"

"It's my job now, I couldn't say no. I tried," she added bitterly.

His laugh was cruel as he stepped toward her slowly, backing her into a corner, "Of course you did, because now you have to face up to what you did to me."

With any other person, she would have felt scared by the way his presence folded in and around her in a darkly lit rooftop corner, but all Rey felt was the overwhelming need to press against him again. As they had so often, before she had ruined everything.

She watched as his chest moved with his heavy breathing, fists on either side of her head. She could feel them clench and jostle bits of hair that had escaped her updo. Rey kept her eyes steady on his neck, assuming it would be an innocuous part of him to distract from the building intensity.

She was so very wrong, because the veins in his neck strained with each flex of his knuckles, and she remembered so vividly what it looked like with love bites peppered around it.

Rey swallowed, finally responding, "I'm sorry, Kylo." His head dropped down at her words, as if he were attempting to control some unknown emotion that once again she couldn't understand anymore. "I'm so-"

His head raised just enough to capture her lips, cutting off whatever she was about to say. The touch of his lips short-circuited her brain and her heart took over. It remembered the patterns of Kylo Ren very well, it seemed, as her lips parted slightly as he pressed into her with his lower body.

All she could think about was how kissing him felt like coming home, and as she brought her quivering hands up slowly to touch his hair, Rey remembered what it was like to be loved by Kylo Ren.

His tongue brushed against hers and he grunted softly as her hands ran through his hair, fingernails grazing as they went. His fists loosened slightly against the wall, but it was his hips that told the story. They pressed between her legs and Rey could feel the growing excitement beneath his impeccably tailored pants.

She pulled out of his kiss and gasped his name, intending to stop this altogether, but his head simply dipped to her neck and his mouth continued its ministrations there.

"Kylo, please…" She wasn't even sure what she was trying to say, but he growled in response and his hands finally - finally - left the wall and one slid behind her back. The other pulled her dress and body up with it, aligning their hips perfectly as she moaned and wrapped her legs around him on instinct.

Now wasn't the time for conversation, and rationally Rey knew that nothing about this would be okay on the other end of the evening. But as he sucked her neck and ground against her hot core, she couldn't find herself to care.

His hands twisted her into his erection, hitting that sweet spot of her clit over and over until she was panting and wild eyed into his open mouth. He still knew all the ways to make her body sing and he hadn't even touched her. She whimpered with need as her orgasm rose to the tip and he gripped her hair and pulled her head against his shoulder to muffle her cries.

"Shh, Rey, that's a good girl," his hips pinned her to the wall as she rode it out. Hands spread across her neck, almost petting it as the aftershocks slowly abated. Finally, he let her up, but not down.

Rey rested her head against the wall, panting as she stared at him in a haze, barely remembering where they even were or how long they had been there. But when his hands went for his belt and she heard the metal clack and slide across the fabric, she remembered.

"Kaydel! Kylo, what-"

His eyes cut her protestations off as he finished unbuckling his belt and slid his zipper down, pulling his hard cock free. Rey licked her lips on instinct, remembering how good it had felt inside her - everywhere. She wouldn't have noticed the soft whine she let out if he hadn't huffed in laughter, surprising her.

"Missed me, have you?"

Bitterness filled every word and Rey closed her eyes, hating herself just that bit more as she bucked her hips in response. This was a mistake in a situation neither one was looking for, and one she had desperately avoided. Being near him again was a poison pill she willingly took, her consciousness taking flight as she felt the tip of his cock poke at her lips.

She felt him line up with her, his head lowering to rest against her shoulder as he slid home, as if he had never left. Rey sobbed, grateful he was back or destroyed that she ever forced him away; Kylo's body stiffened at the sound, his mouth turning towards her neck.

"You okay?" She cried a little more at that, that he even thought to ask - maybe he still cared. But the look on his face that night was etched into her memory like a tattoo, and she knew he would never forgive her.

"Yes," she whispered brokenly; it was enough, and he slid out and back in with more force, getting used to her again. Her hands pulled at the hair on his neck as he buried his face into her shoulder, refusing to look at her. His hips rolled up and into hers with a rhythm that would have lulled her into a slow burn of desire if not for the way his hands gripped and dug into her ass.

Each thrust came with a cacophony of sounds - belt clinking, fabric shuffling against itself, soft pants from both of them. Neither of them said a word as he bottomed out repeatedly; Rey could feel the ridges of his cock rubbing against her every time he slowed down slightly. His nails dug into her skin with just enough pressure - he always knew exactly how much to give her and she let out a sob again, pulling his shoulders and upper body tighter against her.

As her breath quickened and legs trembled with the beginning of another orgasm, an unwelcome thought ran through her mind. She wondered if he ever fucked Kaydel like this, or if it was only reserved for the women he hated. Woman.

Maybe he was thinking of her right now, that's why he seemed so determined, pressing his hips and grinding them against her, refusing to let her come down for air. A hand left her ass and she bucked her hips immediately as she felt his finger circle her clit unexpectedly.

"With me, Rey," she couldn't be sure whether it was the use of her name, or his touch, or the fact that he raised his head to look at her finally that did the trick. But she came moments after, staring into the soul of the man whose heart she had broken, whose eyes held none of their warmth. She swallowed all of her pleasure in the face of that cold stare. The veins in his neck and the slight increase in pressure were the only signs he gave that she was about to feel the spurt of his come inside of her.

He threw his head back and stared at the sky when he came, letting out a low grunt. Rey had always loved the feel of him coming inside of her, it was her favorite thing - he knew that, and purposefully refused to look at her when he did it. The pleasure was undeniable, but hollow.

They stayed like that for minutes, catching their breath in silence; he slipped his cock out and zipped it back up. Her hands moved on instinct, as she always had, to help him with his belt, but he stepped away sharply, leaving her hands hanging in the air. His come dribbled down her thighs and she found herself grateful for her choice of a long skirted dress.

He refused to look at her as he fixed his belt and glanced around for something.

He pulled a folded cloth napkin from some unused storage bin and bent down. "Lift it up," he said quietly. It was all he said, but she did as told. He wiped the inside and back of her legs, before slipping his hand between them, wiping her lips clean - mostly - of their cum. When he was done he rolled it into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

"Thank you," she couldn't think of anything else to say. What were you supposed to say, anyway?

He simply nodded once and left, back to the party, out of her life and to his. Back to Kaydel. At least now she knew what it looked like to watch him walk away.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #my fic #reylo ff

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