#and then i realized if they started from chapter 1 they would have done 16/month to reach those chapters by that issue which is not possibl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamerspic3girl · 2 months ago

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~Hermione’s perspective; Chapter 1~

Like, “The Walking Dead?” Well, here is a fanfic. Warning, I advise the readers, that this story is quite descriptive. Here’s some context behind the fanfic: On Thursday, September 16, 2010, a month after the outbreak, Hermione Levine Gretchen finds herself alone in her cabin nestled in the woods near Atlanta, Georgia. At just 16 years old, she is a strong-willed yet vulnerable girl who left home at 15, driven away by her tumultuous family life. Her mother struggled with addiction, her father was an abusive homophobic asswhole, and her siblings often judged her harshly. These factors made her childhood unbearable, prompting her to seek solace in the woods, far from the dangers of her old neighborhood; solely unaware that she would regret being alone. Though she exists in the universe of The Walking Dead, Hermione remains an unknown character, separate from the main group led by Rick. Her story unfolds quietly, and individually until she does indeed end up coming upon them. Note: This is a Month into the outbreak, September 16, 2010. This scene starts within a few hours after Rick’s reunion with Carl and Lori. Also, to know, Hermione doesn’t appear with them, or meet them until a further scene into the fanfic.

How Hermione Levine Gretchen looks:

(Hair):

(Jawline):

(Eyes):

(Shirt):

(Jacket):

(Pants):

(Shoes):

(Duffle bag):

🪵Gun🔫:

😶‍🌫Knife🗡:

💫Walk - Man🫠:

Now jumping into the fanfic:

The sky darkened and shadowed as I paced. The shadow’s eeriness covers the whole area. The glossy and flowy trees surround my hectic body. The ground was ratted up and covered in the blood of the knotted, ungodly walkers. My eyes have to narrow in gratification to navigate thoroughly.

I flee through the dense woods, and my heart thunders in my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my steps. My eyes darted down, taking in the sight of blood splattered across my clothes, a grim reminder of the relentless walkers that have haunted these woods for the past month. The rush of adrenaline surges through my veins as I weave and dodge through the looking trees, each one a potential hiding place for the undead. Fear and dread grip my mind, intensifying with every fleeting second, propelling me forward as I draw closer to the safety of my cabin, the only sanctuary in this desolate wilderness.

“Come on, come on….” I murmured aloud, as I moved relentlessly.

As I approached my cozy cabin, I hurriedly made my way to the porch and swiftly opened the front door before closing it firmly behind me. I secured the door and chain for extra protection, then set my trusty bat down within reach. My tired eyes instinctively sought out the blinds, and I tightly closed them, shutting out any prying eyes from the outside. Despite my overwhelming exhaustion and the strong desire to collapse and rest, I knew I couldn't afford to at that moment. I rubbed my weary face and even pinched my skin to stay awake, feeling the surge of adrenaline coursing through me even more intensely. It served as a stark reminder that it wasn't the time to give in to fatigue, but rather to push through and accomplish what needed to be done. “This is so exhausting…” I mumble eyes closed, as I push myself to move on to the next task at hand.

I have realized that I need to take steps to ensure that the walkers, the threatening entities that are trying to harm me, cannot see me while I am inside my house. Therefore, I should securely attach curtains to the wall in front of the windows to block their view.

In a rush to find a stapler, glue, and tape, I hurried to my room. Frantically searching through my shelf, I stumbled upon nails and a hammer. Grabbing them, I hurried back to the living room and quickly began nailing the curtains to the wall. As the rush of adrenaline subsided, I found myself in my cabin, relieved that the curtains shielded me from prying eyes. Slowing sliding down, my back to the wall, as my legs bent and j sat on the cold, rusty floor.

…

With a sense of weariness, I rose from the floor and tiptoed upstairs to my room, careful not to make a sound. After locking the door behind me, I collapsed onto my bed, seeking solace in its comforting embrace.

…

As the sun rose in the morning, and the moon in the later evening, I used to be greeted by the melodious chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of woodland creatures. The serene sounds of nature provided a sense of peace and tranquility. However, the once-peaceful atmosphere has been disrupted by unsettling groans emanating from the outside. The eerie moans of the undead now pierce through the previously tranquil ambiance, shattering the serenity.

To safeguard myself from the encroaching horror, I have resorted to covering the windows entirely, effectively shrouding my surroundings in darkness. Despite the shroud of darkness, the haunting sounds of the undead continue to permeate through the barriers, sending shivers down my spine. The newfound presence of the undead has left me unable to find solace in slumber or peace of mind. Instead of resting, my restless eyes scan the room, taking note of every detail, from the tightly secured blinds to the meticulously barricaded windows. In an attempt to calm my racing thoughts, I find myself pacing back and forth within the confines of my room, pondering the harrowing circumstances that have befallen me.

I've recently come to realize that the city of Atlanta is facing an intense bombardment, making it far from a safe zone. The streets are filled with aimless walkers, and the situation is not much better elsewhere. It's been about a month since everything started, and my routine involves going out only to gather essential supplies for survival.

Occasionally, when I'm walking around my house, I'll find a moment to peek through a crack in the curtains and catch sight of a few stragglers wandering near my cabin. Thankfully, I've done my best to fortify the front door.

In addition to everything else, I'm starting to run low on supplies, and it's becoming more and more crucial for me to restock, especially if I plan on staying in this location. Even though I was aware that this would be a significant challenge, I still need to consider the state of the world... or what it has become, considering that it was already quite unpleasant to begin with.

Evading people used to be my specialty, but now the anxiety and the pressure have intensified. I spent most of my life in hiding, and now it's even more difficult. I'm not only concealing myself to avoid being captured due to my age but also because of people resorting to cannibalism.

As I glanced around my room, I noticed the disheveled bed with its crumpled sheets and the dresser neatly arranged with clothes meant for only one person – me. This solitary sight served as a stark reminder of my isolation in this daunting and senseless world, which was once tolerable but now fills me with fear and frustration.

…

I started to feel a weight settling on my shoulders as I let out a heavy sigh and began to rub my face. Descending the creaking stairs, the noises of the undead grew louder, a chilling reminder that they were lurking just beyond my front door. I froze in place, my body tensed, not daring to make the slightest movement. The only sound in the room, aside from the menacing growls of the undead, was the faint rustle of my hair as I strained to remain perfectly still. I held my breath until the unsettling noise drifted away, signaling that the threat had passed.

With a long exhale, I made my way to the kitchen, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I gathered a bottle of water, a can of food, and a lighter. Returning to my room, (Which is upstairs); I retrieved my trusty bag from the closet and carefully stashed the supplies inside. As I slipped on my worn brown jean jacket, I instinctively reached for my gun holster and pistol, securing them in place before making my way downstairs.

I attached the gun holster to my belt with a practiced hand, ensuring that my weapon was secure.

My mind pacing at the moment, I go to the lonely kitchen, retrieving a blade from the kitchen drawer. As I fastened the blade to my belt, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders as I steeled myself for the dangerous journey ahead. Finally, I made my way to the front door, mentally preparing myself for the challenges that awaited outside.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders. I close my eyes for a moment, mentally preparing myself for what comes next. “One… Two…. Three…” I count allowed nervously.

As I reach for the door handle, I pause and press my ear against the cold wood, straining to hear any movement on the other side. Satisfied that the coast is clear, I slowly turn the handle and ease the door open, being careful not to make a sound. Stepping outside, I move quickly, my senses on high alert, scanning my surroundings for any sign of movement. I reach for my bike and carefully place my bag on the holder, securing it in place. With a swift motion, I release the brake and mount the bike, feeling the familiar sensation of the seat beneath me. As I pedal away, I take one last look over my shoulder, making sure I haven't been followed.

…

As night fell, the darkness enveloped the surroundings, casting an eerie atmosphere. Nocturnal creatures stealthily roamed the area, their presence indicated only by the occasional glimmer of the moon and the faint glow of fireflies. I cautiously approached the perimeter I painstakingly cleared and secured, a place I had meticulously inspected countless times. As I ventured towards it to gather supplies for my hidden cache, I was disheartened to find that someone or something had intruded, disrupting the protective measures I had put in place to keep unwanted visitors at bay.

As I approached closer to the location- dismounting my bike and climbing over and away from a fence, I couldn't help but notice that the area was filled to the brim with walkers. I had expected to encounter just a few stragglers, but I was taken aback by the sight of a whole horde. I quickly realized that I needed to rely on my wits and take advantage of my bike to make a hasty escape. It was clear to me that I wouldn't be able to return until I had formulated a solid plan to clear the area of walkers, again.

I sustained a minor injury on the side of my arm. It was just a scratch that I got while attempting to jump back over the fence and escape from the group of dangerous walkers. I believe it will heal completely in a day.

As I pedaled away, the sound of the wind whipping against my face echoed in my ears. The road stretched out before me, leading in the direction of my secluded cabin. Disappointment and frustration weighed heavily on my shoulders, mixing with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. All I wanted was to lie down and disappear from the world, but I couldn't afford to give in to that impulse.

Every muscle in my body felt tense, and an almost tangible feeling of unease hung in the air. It chipped away at my determination, threatening to overwhelm me. I hoped desperately for a surge of adrenaline to kick in and push me forward. My feet churned the pedals of the bike with a frantic urgency, propelling me toward the safety and solitude of my sanctuary. Despite feeling empty inside, I continued to push forward, my mind swirling with the weight of recent events. It was a pivotal moment of realization, a turning point where I finally accepted the gravity of the situation.

Survival became the sole thought dominating my mind. Nothing else mattered. Who did I have left to worry about? No family, no one to watch out for. All that remained was the fierce determination to endure.

As I pedaled wearily along the road, my eyes spotted a few scattered figures aimlessly wandering around. Not wanting to attract their attention, I scanned my surroundings and noticed a car parked at the side of the road. Without hesitation, I silently and carefully dismounted my bike, lowering it to the ground. I quickly ducked down under the car, waiting for the wanderers to move on. I remained hidden until it was clear that there were no sounds or scents of danger. Trusting my instincts, I cautiously emerged from under the car, scanning the area multiple times before making a move back to my bike. Riding my bike at full speed, I navigated through the woods, desperate to reach my rundown cabin as quickly as possible.

Finally arriving at my dilapidated cabin, I hastily pushed my bike aside and rushed inside, swiftly locking the front door with both the lock and the chain. Placing my bat within reach, I leaned my bike against the wall and took a moment to survey the room, feeling a mix of distress and frustration. It was evident that I couldn't stay there any longer. The cabin had been in disrepair from the beginning, and that was two years ago. Coupled with the undeniable fact that being alone was incredibly reckless now, I knew that encountering other people would put me on high alert though. I would likely be suspicious and guarded, speaking little, if at all.

I gaze over at my worn-out duffle bag, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. I dash to my room and hurriedly make my way to the narrow confines of my closet. My hands quickly snatch a flashlight, tape, water bottle, compass, sleeping bag, gloves, rope, scissors, small tent kit, radio, flare gun, and a mask. These essential items are promptly shoved into my oversized duffle bag. As I do so, I absentmindedly rub my sore arm and dart to the bathroom closet. Frantically, I grab a towel, toothbrush, first aid kit, soap, shampoo, conditioner, and deodorant, swiftly adding them to the expanding contents of the bag.

As I stand there, preparing to leave, I take a moment to close my eyes and gather my thoughts. It dawns on me that my duffle bag has been packed meticulously, each item fitting snugly into place, and I anticipate that it will be quite heavy to carry.

A heavy exhalation escapes my lips as I realize the magnitude of what lies ahead. I forge ahead and rush into my petite kitchen, seizing canned fruits, vegetables, beans, nuts, seeds, meats, fish, canned juices, broths, soups, and cereal. With these provisions in hand, I join them in the jumbled mess inside the duffle bag. At last, I'm able to change my clothes and prepare myself for the next phase.

As I hurried back to my room, my eyes searched through the array of clothing strewn across the bed. I reached for a pair of faded blue jeans, a cozy brown shirt, and a stylish brown jean jacket with a fur-lined white collar. The black gloves and brown Converse completed the outfit. After swiftly undressing, I slipped into the chosen attire, making sure the belt was snug and the gun holster sat comfortably. Despite the weariness creeping in, I straightened up, refusing to pause for even a moment. I slung my oversized duffle bag onto my back and scooped up the bat lying on the floor before maneuvering my bike towards the front door. With a racing heart, I hesitantly unlocked the door, unlatching the chain with a sense of urgency.

I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with crisp, cool air. With a mix of fear and determination coursing through my veins, I take my first tentative steps out of the familiarity of my cabin and onto the front porch. Pausing for a moment, I exhale slowly, allowing my senses to take in the world around me. With a deep sigh, I close my eyes briefly, then reopen them before firmly shutting the cabin door behind me. The weight of the decision to leave settling on my shoulders, I step off the porch and onto the soft forest floor.

Each cautious step takes me further away from the safety of the woods and out onto the road. My mind races with the need to find civilization, to seek the company of others. Yet, a nagging feeling of unease gnaws at me, reminding me of the dangers that lurk beyond the safety of solitude. I know all too well that people can be both a source of solace and peril, based on my past experiences. Lost in thought, I continue down the road, acutely aware of the precarious balance between safety and peril.

…

I noticed movement from the corner of my eye, and as I turned my head, I saw a group of walkers slowly approaching me. Instinctively, I took a step back, my eyes fixated on a small fallen leaf in front of me. I tried to sidestep it, but a sudden gust of wind caused it to skitter across the ground, and I inadvertently stepped on it, creating a faint crunching sound. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the walkers react, their attention piqued by the noise. I clutched the bat in my hands, my senses heightened with fear and apprehension. Despite trying to appear composed on the outside, I was consumed with an overwhelming sense of terror within me as the walkers reluctantly advanced in my direction.

I could feel them getting closer and closer, their groans growing louder with each step. I held my breath and shifted my body in a way that kept them just out of reach, buying myself precious seconds to plan my next move. As I stole a quick glance at the bike, I knew I had to act fast. With a surge of adrenaline, I yanked the bag off the bike, let it drop to the ground, and made a dash for the nearby woods. Every muscle in my body propelled me forward, leaving the walkers trailing behind, my abandoned bike a distant memory.

My heart pounded in my chest, my senses on high alert as I focused on one thing - survival. I pushed myself even harder, the pounding of my footsteps drowning out the groans and shuffles of the walkers. Finally, I reached the edge of the woods, but I didn't dare slow down. I kept running, the dense foliage flying past me in a blur.

Suddenly, just when I thought I might have a chance to breathe, a horde of walkers materialized from the shadows, blocking my path. I had to think fast.

I found myself in a perilous situation, surrounded by walkers and needing to think fast. Without a moment's hesitation, I made a dash for the nearest tree and swiftly began my ascent. As I climbed higher and higher, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I finally reached a height where I could catch my breath. I paused to collect myself, placing one hand over my pounding chest and using the other to steady myself against the sturdy trunk.

From my vantage point, I could see the walkers milling about below, their groans and shuffling footsteps filling the air. My pistol was securely tucked into its holster at my waist, and my heavy duffle bag hung from my back, weighing me down. With every sense on high alert, I took in my surroundings, my mind racing as I assessed the situation and considered my next move.

As I gazed ahead, I spotted a clear path that seemed to offer an escape, filling my heart with a surge of hope. With one hand gripping the sturdy tree trunk for support, I carefully lifted my bulky duffle bag and placed it on the tree branch. After unzipping the bag, I reached inside and retrieved my trusty flare gun. Pausing to survey the approaching walkers and the path to freedom, I pondered the best direction to send the flare. With a clear and logical decision in mind, I raised the flare gun, ensuring it was perfectly aligned, and then pulled the trigger. A brilliant and mesmerizing burst of light shot out from the flare, soaring gracefully into the sky exactly as I had envisioned.

I cautiously bided my time, staying perfectly still as the figures in the distance reacted to the light. Not a breath, not a rustle, until I could be certain they had moved on. They roamed about aimlessly, captivated by the source of light, and I allowed myself a small satisfied smile, knowing my tactic had succeeded. I carefully stowed away the flare gun in my large duffle bag, zipping it closed with a gentle hand. Strapping the bag onto my back, I ensured that my movements were silent, avoiding any telltale sounds of leaves or twigs underfoot as I descended from the tree branch. With barely a sound, I transitioned from walking to jogging, and then smoothly accelerated into a full sprint. Gradually gaining speed, my pace quickened until I was hurtling forward at full tilt.

I strain to catch any sounds in the vicinity, my footsteps coming to an abrupt halt as I strain to listen more intently. As the distinct sounds reach my ears, I realize that they are voices. Keeping my distance, I carefully observe the area, meticulously studying the mannerisms, disposition, and vibe of the individuals. Advancing cautiously, I suddenly get a whiff of smoke, confirming my suspicion that a group of people is gathered around, and added more detail, a bonfire. Despite staying concealed, my presence is noticed by two men. One of them possesses a caring yet stern countenance, seated on a log with a young boy nestled close to him, while a woman sits on his right, his arm protectively wrapped around her. As he gazes at me, his eyes convey surprise and intrigue. On the other hand, the other man exudes a more unwelcoming, welcoming per se demeanor, sitting on a separate log, his narrowed eyes fixed on my sudden appearance. I maintain a composed facade as I observe the man with the stern gaze rise to his feet.

I was frozen in place, my eyes locked on every subtle gesture the man-made. As I observed him, I couldn't help but notice the group of people surrounding him, all fixated on his every move just like I was. It was clear that the onlookers, perhaps a family or a close-knit group, were impressed by his composure and unyielding demeanor. The man, who had been seated the whole time, suddenly rose from the log. With a tender touch, he carefully lifted the young boy who had been seated in front of him and gently relocated him to the woman's lap, who was sitting adjacent to him. My gaze shifted to both of them, impressed by the quiet yet impactful exchange between the man, the boy, and the woman.

"Who are you?" The man who carefully settled the young boy onto the woman's lap inquired, his head slightly tilted in astonishment, his voice carrying a hint of both wonder and authority.

I gazed at the people around me, observing their faces closely before turning my attention back to the man standing before me. "Hermione; Hermione Levine Gretchen..." I murmured softly, a hint of skepticism creeping into my voice. The man glanced at his companions momentarily before fixing his gaze back on me. Tilting my head slightly, I inquired, "And who might you be?" My eyes flitted from the surroundings to his group and then back to the man, searching for any clues or answers.

"Rick Grimes," he replies, his gaze sweeping over me. "Are you alone?" There's a note of concern in his question. Unsure of whether to be honest or not, I take a moment to examine him. As my eyes travel over to the boy and the woman standing nearby, I notice the striking resemblance between the boy and the man before me. It dawns on me that the man I'm speaking to is the boy's father, and I find myself face-to-face with a protective father.

I tilt my head curiously, squinting slightly as I try to discern whether he resembles my dad or if he's a decent person. He notices my scrutiny and looks intrigued himself. "Hey, kid, look at me. Are you going to answer my question?" he asks in a curious tone. I lift my gaze to meet him, still unsure whether to be truthful or not, and then return to what I was attempting to do before.

As I observe the gathering, I can perceive the distinct energies emanating from each individual. I notice a palpable sense of unease emanating from a bonfire a few feet away from where I am. Seated around the fire are a man, a woman, and a girl. The girl appears hesitant and stays close to her mother, seemingly uncomfortable in the presence of the man. The woman also seems uneasy but tries to conceal it. The man exudes an air of dominance, and his imposing presence appears unwelcome. It strikes me that the girl is his daughter and the woman is his wife, and their lack of choice in being with him weighs heavily on my senses. This realization resonates deeply within me.

Rick's expression shifted to one of concern as he leaned in closer. "Hey, hey... You alright?" he inquired, his tone gentle. I met his gaze, feeling a wave of unease washing over me. "Mhm... Yeah," I managed to mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. It was clear that Rick wasn't entirely convinced by my response, but he didn't push further, not wanting to intrude. "Okay... If you say so," he said softly, before gently pressing, "So, are you gonna answer my question?" As the seconds ticked by, I began to sense that he and his companions might not pose a threat after all.

I took a deep breath and murmured quietly, "Yes... I'm alone," my voice barely audible, head slightly bowed. The man who had appeared stern softened his gaze and approached me slowly, clearly trying not to make me uncomfortable. I lifted my eyes to meet his.

"It's okay... It's okay... What happened? Why are you alone?" the man, who wasn't a father, asked gently. I glanced back at the small family, feeling a surge of distress, but I kept a composed and stoic exterior. Rick and the man looked at me with concern, and the man persisted, "Hey, hey. Please tell me, what's wrong?"

As I stood there, I felt like a complete mess on the inside, but I made sure to maintain a composed exterior. I couldn't help but feel confused about how they seemed to see right through me. In an attempt to unravel the mystery, I observed them more closely, pondering about their potential occupation. Were they a cop, a teacher, a firefighter, or perhaps someone in the family who has dedicated their life to caring for people, or maybe they were involved in the healthcare industry before the outbreak? "I'm fine," I responded, trying to project an air of strength, while I discreetly put one of my free hands in my pocket. I made sure to maintain steady eye contact, determined not to appear vulnerable.

Rick studied me with a furrowed brow, his expression filled with a mix of concern and skepticism. "Kid, I can see right through you. You're not fine," he said softly, his gaze probing. I struggled to maintain composure under his penetrating scrutiny. "Seriously, I'm fine," I managed to say, trying to brush off his worry. Both men let out exasperated sighs. Desperately wanting to change the tension in the air, I gently asked, "What's your name?" I directed my question to the man who didn't appear to be the father. His gaze softened even more as he replied, "Shane Walsh," with a softness and concern in his eyes that surprised me.

I turn away from the group of people, feeling a surge of self-loathing for appearing weak and vulnerable. As I try to gather myself, Shane reaches out and places his hand gently on my shoulder. "Why don't you take a seat and just relax," he says in a soft and comforting tone, locking eyes with me in a display of genuine concern. I meet his gaze, and his warmth begins to thaw the tension in my face. With a mix of hesitation and a glimmer of hope, I slowly make my way to a nearby log by the crackling fire and lower myself beside it.

I observe the gaze of Rick and Shane as I settle in and make myself comfortable. Rick resumes his place next to his wife and son, while Shane returns to his original spot. I carefully remove my large duffle bag, set down my smaller bag, and position it next to me. Despite the curious looks from everyone around the bonfire, I try to focus on the comforting warmth emanating from the crackling flames. I reach out my hands toward the fire, feeling the gentle heat, and let out a contented sigh.

As I gazed upward, I noticed the boy, Rick’s son, watching me intently. I offered a shy wave in return. "So you're Hermione?" he inquired as he rose, hopping off his mother's lap, and joining me on the grass, never breaking our eye contact. His behavior was intriguing, albeit slightly unusual. "Yes... What's your name?" I murmured softly. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Carl," he stated. I nodded slowly and averted my gaze, causing his smile to dissipate. "You don't talk much, do you?" Carl asked, clearly disheartened.

I feel a slight tinge of guilt and I let out a sigh, "I'm sorry... I just... I find it difficult to open up, especially since we've just met. It takes me a while to open up to people, and I want to be honest about that." I responded truthfully. Carl's expression shows a hint of disappointment, but there's also a tinge of amusement. It's clear that he's still interested in getting to know me. I stifle a soft chuckle, making sure it's not noticed by anyone else, but I can't help but find his reaction and eagerness slightly amusing.

Carl glanced at my gun holster, his eyes widening in disbelief as they locked onto the pistol nestled inside. "How do you have that?" His surprise drew the attention of Rick and Shane, who turned to see what had caught Carl's eye. Rick's face registered a mix of shock and amusement, though an underlying sternness hinted at his concern. Meanwhile, Shane shot me a stern, disapproving look, his expression a blend of shock. Perplexed, I could only manage a barely audible, "What?"

Shane tilted his head and fixed me with a serious gaze. "Young lady, are you even aware of what’s on you?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice. "Yes... What's wrong with it?" I replied, feeling a little worried and confused. Rick and Shane both looked surprised and opened their mouths slightly. "What's wrong with it?" they asked in unison. I felt like I had just been caught doing something wrong like a little kid being scolded.

"That’s a pistol, Hermione. You shouldn’t have it," Rick scolded, his voice tinged with concern. I raised an eyebrow, feeling a flicker of annoyance. "I’m 16, and I know how to handle a gun, thank you," I replied firmly, trying to maintain my composure. Shane, who had been listening quietly, raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. As the tension escalated, Rick intervened, his tone gentle but firm. "Hermione, please understand the concern. Even though you’re 16, it doesn’t sit right to see someone your age carrying a weapon so casually. Moreover, we have other children around. Please put it away or hand it over." His words carried a mix of care and authority, urging me to consider the implications of my actions.

I let out a weary sigh, resignation washing over me as I comprehended the situation. With a reluctant motion, I unclasp the holster and carefully stow it away in my bag. Rick fixes me with a stern gaze, but it soon softens as he sees my compliance. Time passes in stillness before the quiet is broken by the shuffling steps of an older man making his way across the grass. I lift my gaze to meet his, and he addresses me gravely. "Before you arrived, we were talking about a concerning situation," he says, running a hand over his wrist while pressing his temples with the other.

I found myself raising an eyebrow with curiosity as I spoke to the older man, "Would you mind telling me more about this? What is it about?" I questioned him. The older man took a moment to look around at the others gathered around the bonfire, and they all nodded softly. He turned back to me and began to explain, "We were discussing a man named Daryl Dixon, whom you have yet to meet. Some members of our group, including T-dog, Andrea, Morales, Glenn, and Merle, went on a supply run in the city. Unfortunately, Merle, who happens to be Daryl's brother, was left behind." As he mentioned each name, he gestured toward the individuals present with us.

My mind was filled with wonder as I pondered the significance of the names of the people around me. Suddenly, the realization hit me like a ton of bricks – I knew Daryl and his brother. As this realization dawned on me, my eyes widened imperceptibly, and my mouth fell open in disbelief. "Oh my," I murmured softly, barely audible. All eyes turned to me, waiting for an explanation. "Did you already know Daryl and Merle?" Rick asked, his curiosity piqued. I nodded gently and replied, "Yes, I did. I used to see them when I took walks in the woods." My explanation trailed off into a hushed whisper.

Rick nodded slowly, his distress evident in the situation, as he looked around at everyone. "How did he get left behind? What happened?" I asked, slipping my hands into my pockets and scanning the group. T-dog spoke up, his voice heavy with resignation. "It was Merle, you know how he is—wild, savage," he said, pausing to roll his eyes before continuing. "Rick decided to give him a chance and handcuffed him to the roof of the building. I had the key, but I dropped it down a damn drain," he confessed, running a hand over his temples in frustration. I offered him a sympathetic look. "You didn't do it on purpose. Don't be too hard on yourself. Learn from it and move forward." T-dog looked back at me, nodding slightly. "That's... That's wise," he mumbled before turning his gaze back to the others.

I once again found myself in a moment of stillness, the crackling of the bonfire the only sound breaking the silence. After a while, I made the decision to get up and move away from the fire. As I started to walk, Rick called out to me with a mix of concern and urgency in his voice. "Hey. Hey! Where are you going?" he questioned. I felt a pang of guilt and froze, feeling like a child being caught disobeying a rule. "Just going for a walk, what's the harm?" I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rick's expression hardened and I couldn't help but feel a wave of apprehension, like a scolded child. "What's the harm? The harm is that it's dangerous out there in this world. You can't wander alone. You're 16, just a child. You may think you're prepared, but everyone, even the most responsible individuals, needs someone in this world. You need protection, especially now. Trust me, the world out there is unforgiving," Rick insisted, his words laced with a sense of gravity and wisdom.

I was about to argue, but the serious gazes of Lori, Rick, and Shane made me reconsider. With a frustrated sigh, I relented and sat back down, surrounded by a heavy silence.

T-dog stretched and announced he was heading in for the night. Rick turned to me and said, "Come with me, we'll get you set up."

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To be continued.

Comment down below whether or not you're excited for Chapter 2.

#the walking dead #Rick's group #Rick Grimes #Season 1 #fanfiction #twd #atlanta georgia #outbreak #Survival

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lesfeldickbiblestudy · 1 year ago

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Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 2 * PART 3 * BOOK 78 PART 1 of the MESSIANIC PROPHECIES – Part 3 Psalms 2, 8, and 16 Okay, it is good to have everybody back, again; and you’ve had your break. For those of you joining us on television, we’re just an informal Bible study. We like to compare Scripture with Scripture primarily. My main reason for using so much of Scripture is to prove to the scoffers that this is a supernatural Book unlike anything else on Earth. All you have to do is study it, and it becomes obvious. But most of the world will not do that. We’re especially looking at Psalms for a few programs. I know we’ve had a lot of requests over the years to teach some Psalms. Today, a gentleman just told me that he was moved a month or two ago to start studying Psalms. So he’s appreciating today. All right, we’re going to pick right up where we left off in the idea of the Messianic Psalms. There are sixteen chapters throughout the Book of Psalms that deal quite completely with the death, burial, and resurrection. Now I’m going to jump up to the next one, which is Psalms chapter 16. We just finished chapter 8. If you’ve noticed in your Bible—I’m sure they all have it—that it’s called a Michtam of David. A Michtam was something that was actually set in stone, and it was a prayer of David. There are several of them throughout the Book of Psalms that were engraven, and they, too, were primarily concerned with Christ and His resurrection. Psalms 16 was just that. It was engraved in stone of some sort—much like the Ten Commandments, I guess—and it became a prayer concerning the death and resurrection of Christ. Now the first several verses we’re not going to make comment on. We’ll just drive right on down until we get to the part where, again, I can show from the New Testament proof-positive that we’re talking about His death, burial, and resurrection. This will be down in verse 10, where Peter quotes it in Acts chapter 2. But we don’t want to skip all these good verses. So if you’ll bear with me, we’ll just read them and realize that the underlying thought is resurrection. Psalms 16:1 “Preserve me, O God: for in thee do I put my trust.” Now, I’ve done this before. I’ll do it again. There are three words in Scripture that are all quite synonymous – trust is the Old Testament word. The New Testament words are primarily – faith and believe. You put the three of them together, and they all mean the same thing. When you believe, you’re trusting. When you’re trusting, you believe. And when you believe and trust, you’re exercising faith. Always remember that when the Old Testament speaks of this “I have put my trust,” it’s putting his faith. He believes it. Now verse 2: Psalms 16:2-3 “O my soul, thou hast said unto the LORD, Thou art my Lord: my goodness extendeth not to thee; 3. But to the saints that are in the earth, and to the excellent, in whom is all my delight.” Now the saints in the Earth in David’s vocabulary would have been what people? Well, it would have been Israel—the believing element in Israel—because the Gentiles for the most part had nothing to do with Israel. So, to the saints within the Earth, would have to be the believing remnant of Israel: Psalms 16:3b “…and to the excellent, in whom is all my delight.” Well, now it figures, doesn’t it? Who do you suppose David had the most real sincere fellowship with? The believers or the unbelievers? Well, naturally the believers. It’s doesn’t matter where you are. Iris and I have gone all over the United States the last two months, and no matter where we go, we don’t hit strangers over five minutes. Why? Because they all love the same Lord that we do. And it is (even though we get tired) so thrilling to know that we have like-minded believers from Maine to California. And that’s just part of being members of the Body of Christ. All right, let’s read on. Psalms 16:4a “Their sorrows shall be multiplied that hasten after another god:…” Well, now what’s that taking about? The pagans and the idolaters in Israel.

They can’t enjoy any of the blessings of the God of Abraham that David can. But on the other hand, their sorrows shall be more. Now I can’t help this as I read these things. Other verses come to mind, and I have to use them. Turn with me to Jeremiah 44 to show that when David spoke of those who were adhering to other gods, he wasn’t necessarily speaking of the Gentile world. He was speaking of fellow Israelites. Jeremiah chapter 44 and this is why I use it as often as I do—the shocking experience that in Israel there was this much blatant pagan worship. And this, of course, is why God had to deal with them so severely over and over. Come back to Jeremiah 44, so that we’ll know what David was referring to. Jeremiah isn’t that far removed from David. A couple of hundred years and Israel never did improve, so it all stayed the same. Now Jeremiah 44 and drop in at verse 15. We’ve done this before, but it’s been a long time ago. Jeremiah 44:15 “Then all the men who knew that their wives had burned incense (To whom?) other gods, (What were the other gods? The pagan gods and idols of the Gentiles. The men knew that their women were doing it. Did they do anything about it? No. They went right along with it.) and all the women that stood by, a great multitude, even all the people that dwelt in the land of Egypt, in Pathros, answered Jeremiah, saying,” Now, you see, Jeremiah was God’s prophet. Jeremiah had been sent to warn Israel of coming judgment if they wouldn’t refrain from this open idolatry. And, you know, when we taught this—of course, that’s quite a long time ago—one of those valleys at which the Jewish people offered their little babies to the brazen fire god, Moloch, they actually called the Valley of Drums. And do you remember what the reason was? In order to cover the screaming of their little babies as they laid them on that hard, white-hot god Moloch. To cover their screaming they would beat the drums. Awful! Beyond comprehension. God’s chosen people who should have known better. It’d be one thing for the pagan Gentiles, but here we have the Jews doing it. But here’s the evidence, see, verse 16: Jeremiah 44:16-17a “As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the LORD, we will not hearken unto thee. (They knew that Jeremiah was a valid prophet. Do you see the rebelliousness here?) 17. But we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth, to burn incense unto the queen of heaven,…” Who’s the queen of heaven in antiquity? The female goddesses—Athena was one. There were several of them in various cultures. They all had the female goddess, which was usually the one that led into the most hideous immorality. Jeremiah 44:17b “…to burn incense unto the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink-offerings unto her, as we have done, we, and our fathers, our kings, and our princes, (See, they weren’t just a small minority.) in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem: for then (Now what a lie.) we had plenty of victuals (or food), and were well, and saw no evil. 18. But since we left off to burn incense to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink-offerings unto her, we have wanted all things, (In other words, things haven’t been going well.) and have been consumed by the sword and by the famine.” Well, what was the real reason? It was God’s chastisement upon them. And they couldn’t even recognize that. Now that’s how ridiculously ignorant people can become of the things of God. All right, verse 19: Jeremiah 44:19 “And when we burned incense to the queen of heaven, and poured out drink-offerings unto her, did we make cakes to worship her, and pour out drink-offerings unto her, without our men? 20. Then (the prophet) Jeremiah said unto all the people, to the men, and to the women, and to all the people which had given him that answer, saying,” Jeremiah 44:21-22a “The incense that ye burned in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem, ye, and

your fathers, your kings, and your princes, and the people of the land, did not the LORD remember them, and came it not into his mind? 22. So that the LORD could no longer bear, because of the evil of your doings, and because of the abominations which ye have committed: therefore is your land a desolation, and an astonishment,…” But they couldn’t even recognize that. And they rebelled totally against Jeremiah until finally the Babylonians came in. And from what I’ve read from ancient history, the Babylonians found Jeremiah in a deep, dark dungeon where the Jews had pitched him. They didn’t actually kill him, for a change. But they didn’t like the message, so they got rid of the messenger. Well, this is the very thing that David is referring to in Psalms chapter 16. This is what he’s referring to—oh, my goodness, all of this other part of Israel that was contrary to the things of God. Now verse 4: Psalms 16:4-6 “Their sorrows shall be multiplied that hasten after another god: their drink-offerings of blood (Not the drink-offerings of the wine and so forth that God prescribed. But they are so wicked; they are so evil, much like Satan-worship is today—blood becomes a part of their worship.) will I not offer, nor take up their names into my lips. 5. The LORD is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup: thou maintainest my lot. 6. The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage.” Because David was an obedient believer. Psalms 16:7-8 “I will bless the LORD, who hath given me counsel: my reins also instruct me in the night seasons. 8. I have set the LORD always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.” I think that’s a verse that sounds familiar. Now verse 9, we’re getting close to where I’m going to jump up to the New Testament. Psalms 16:9 “Therefore, my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope.” Now what’s he talking about? Resurrection. The flesh will die. David died. His tomb is still remembered in Jerusalem, but David isn’t there in the tomb. The real David is in the presence of the Lord. All right, now another verse comes to mind. Let’s see, I want to go Job. I think it is chapter 19. In Job 19 you have the same kind of language, written long before David. But it all fits. It’s still the same language. We’ll jump in at verse 25. This is the verse that first opened up to me about rightly dividing the Scriptures. You know, I’ve shared this, I think, with a lot of people over the years. I was under the typical denominational umbrella, teaching the denominational line obediently, you know. Then one day they asked me to come and teach a home Bible study in some other denominations. Actually, it was a Methodist couple and a Lutheran couple that asked Iris and me to come in one night a week and teach a home Bible class. Well, it hadn’t been two or three weeks and the Methodist lady came up afterwards and she said, “Les, why isn’t Heaven taught in the Old Testament?” I said, “What?” She said, “Why isn’t Heaven taught in the Old Testament?” I said, “What do you mean?” She said, “Well, those Jews had no idea of dying and going to Heaven.” Well, I’d never considered that before. So I said, “Well, I don’t know. You’re throwing a new one on me, you know.” This is the first time they’d ever done this outside the church umbrella. So anyway, for my study to prove the answer to her question, this is the first thing I came up with. Job doesn’t say a word about dying and going to Heaven. So, the lady was right. Well, that was a whole new opening for me in Scripture. And that’s what set the whole stage then – you deal with Israel as God’s earthly people. They had no concept of dying and going to Heaven. And you’ve got the Body of Christ who are God’s heavenly people. And that just opens everything up! All right, but now look what Job said. That’s what reminded me of it, verse 25. Job 19:25-26 “For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the (Portals of heaven? No.

Where?) upon the earth: (So what are we dealing in? Earthly things.) 26. And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God:” Now what’s he talking about? Physical death—when the body goes back to the dust of the Earth. He knew that much. But it doesn’t stop there. “… worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I will see God.” Well, what kind of flesh? Resurrected flesh. A resurrected body. And, good heavens, you all know that the Lord Jesus, after He came out of the tomb—for forty days He gave an example of what we have to look forward to. Why? Because He moved and ate and did everything in a resurrected body that didn’t look any different than the gardener. And you say, well, where’d you get that? Well, that’s what Mary thought He was. Now I don’t know that gardeners looked like something from outer space, did they? No. They looked very common. They were working-class people. So we get this little bit of information in that forty days. And in those forty days, what did He do? He walked with them. He talked with them. He ate fish with them. All right, so now we have the concept of what Job already had way back here—that in the resurrected state, he would be in a physical body of flesh and bone. And though he had no concept of dying and going to Heaven, yet he certainly had the concept of resurrection life! All right, back to Psalms 16 once again to make a little headway. Okay verse 9, repeat it. Psalms 16:9 “Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also (That’s what made me think of Job.) shall rest in hope.” Because even though he goes back to the dust of the Earth, in resurrection power he’s going to come back with a body fit for all eternity. Whether it’s Old Testament believers, or whether it’s you and me in the Body of Christ. All right, verse 10, now the scenario switches to prophecy. Because we’re going to show from the New Testament that this is God the Son speaking through the prophet David. Psalms 16:10 “For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell (or Hades); neither wilt thou permit thine Holy One to see corruption.” All right, now we’ve got to jump up to the New Testament and see where that is quoted by Peter on the day of Pentecost. This proves the point, then, that these Old Testament references are always to Jesus Christ as we know Him in the New. Now, we don’t refer to Him as Jesus Christ in the Old Testament. He’s God the Son. He’s the Anointed One. He’s the Messiah. But it’s the same person. We’re just in a different scenario of language. All right, Acts chapter 2 and the day of Pentecost. I think I’ll go all the way up to verse 22, so that you get the flow. Peter is speaking to these thousands of Jews gathered in Jerusalem for the Feast of Pentecost—a Jewish feast day. So the terminology is as it should be. Acts 2:22a “Ye men of Israel,…” Now, I’m the first to admit that a good portion of even dispensational Christendom maintain that this is already the Body of Christ Church. And I just don’t see how they see it. I don’t see how they can come to such a conclusion when there’s nothing in here to indicate the Body of Christ. The thought of the Body of Christ hasn’t even been revealed yet. That won’t come until Paul’s apostleship. There is not one word with reference to a Gentile—even in the crowd here. It’s all Jews. The language is Kingdom language—not a word of the Gospel of Grace. But be that as it may, they can fault me all they want. I just say you’ve got to show me some Scripture, because I can’t find anything of the Gentile makeup whatsoever. So Peter said: Acts 2:22 “Ye men of Israel, hear these words; Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved of God among you by miracles and wonders and signs, which God did by him in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know:” That’s the three years of His earthly ministry. Now you’ve got to remember, Pentecost was only fifty days after the resurrection. That’s only a matter of days past His earthly ministry.

They all understood what He was talking about—performing signs and wonders and miracles. Now verse 23: Acts 2:23a “Him, (this Jesus of Nazareth) being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God,…” Now you’ve heard me address that way back years ago. What’s He talking about? That way back in eternity past—before anything had ever been created—the Triune God came together and formulated this whole work of humanity, including the plan of redemption. Every aspect of it was all—blueprinted is the word I like to use. It was all blueprinted. And Peter could say absolutely correctly that it was the foreknowledge of God that was able to cause the Old Testament writers to speak of His death, burial, and resurrection. God knew the end from the beginning. It wasn’t anything that He didn’t understand. And so the correct word is: Acts 2:23b-24 “…and foreknowledge of God, (According to that whole plan of redemption, you are in perfect accord with it.) ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain: (But did that stop God? No. What did He do?) 24. Whom God hath raised up, having loosed the pains of death: because it was not possible that he should be holden of it.” God the Son was God! Nothing could hold Him in the realms of death. Nothing. So the power of God raised Him from the dead, in spite of all that had just happened. All right, now here it comes. The stamp of approval that David was speaking of this very thing. Acts 2:25-26 “For David speaketh concerning him, (Who? Jesus of Nazareth!) I foresaw the Lord always before my face, for he is on my right hand, that I should not be moved: 26. Therefore did my heart rejoice, and my tongue was glad; moreover also my flesh shall rest in (What?) hope:” What kind of hope? Resurrection! My, I’m confident that the Lord’s going to come before very many of us pass off the scene. But if not and if we die, and we go to the grave, hey, that’s not the end. You know, I don’t have many funerals. But I’ve had a few over the years for some of our class people. And when we’re at the cemetery, the first thing I want to remind the family – your loved one isn’t here! We don’t have to traipse back every day and weep over that grave. They’re not there! Where is that loved one? They’re with the Lord in Glory! And what’s going to happen to that body in the grave? One day it’s going to be resurrected and reunited with that soul and spirit. Once again, like Thessalonians says, to be a complete body, soul and spirit for eternity. But, oh, whether it’s death, or whether it’s the hope of the Rapture, it’s still an eternal hope that the best is yet to come. All right, so here the Lord Jesus Christ is speaking through the prophet David way back here at 1,000 B.C. Acts 2:27a Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell,…” Now, that almost takes another hour of explanation, doesn’t it? The word hell here is from the two Greek words that are described better as Sheol and Hades. It was not the Lake of Fire Hell that we normally think of as the eternal place of the wicked. But this was the waiting place for the dead before Christ’s first advent. If you’ll go into Luke 15, what do you have? You have Abraham with Lazarus in his bosom in Paradise. But they’re in Hades. On the other side of the great gulf fixed, you have the rich man who was in torment in Hades. All right, but on Resurrection morning Christ took the believing element out of Hades and took them up to Heaven, and Hell was enlarged so the rich man stayed there. So ever since, lost people still go to Hades. That’s what Jesus says over and over. The saved person now goes immediately from death to be present with the Lord in Glory. And that happened as result of the death, burial, and resurrection. We in the Body of Christ today get into the Body by believing only—what?—for our salvation. What do we believe? That Jesus died for our sins, was buried, and rose again, and is alive today!—I Corinthians 15:1-4.

But see, at this point in time, David, of course, didn’t understand about the Body of Christ. All David was looking forward to, was that the Messiah must suffer. That’s why we had it on the board. Still got it? The sufferings would be followed by what? The glory that would follow. And what would it follow? The death, burial, and resurrection. All right, if you’ll come back with me to verse 27. Acts 2:27 “Because thou wilt not leave my soul in Hell (Hades), neither wilt thou permit thine Holy One to see corruption.” Now then, we always have to be reminded. When Christ’s body lay three days and three nights in the tomb, did corruption set in? Not one whit. His body never saw corruption. And again, because it was a supernatural, divine birth and conception that Christ’s body did not see corruption. And that’s far different from the norm. But nevertheless, that’s the fact that we have to understand. He never saw corruption.

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chaotictempleknight · 2 months ago

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And that's all folks. We are done with ULTRAMagic Chaos. This has been an interesting book to work on. I had a lot of interruptions and ruckus along the way, with one issue persisting as we speak... but we made it. This was actually an insanely fun book to write.

Up next is ULTRAMagic Interval and it will be ready to go next week. I've had all the planning done for almost a month at this point. Again, I have down time during chapter uploads, so it is imperative for me to work on the next book during those periods.

Let's get into the final chapter discussion.

- - DO NOT CONTINUE UNLESS YOU HAVE READ BOOKS 1 - 5 OF ULTRAMagic Alternate. THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SERIES AHEAD.

Spoilers in 3...2...1... - -

The earliest iteration of this book can be seen in the lore entry for Maxima that I need to go and fix as of writing this. Originally Maxima was supposed to be the main character and she subdued the four Discordant Gods with help from Mayhem and Dragutin. Adelheid and Ulrich did not show up until later. Before I changed them, you could see this concept in two chapters of Interlude: Shadowland. And then during Interlude BC, I changed my mind and made Tusk the main character and introduced the Arbiters of Droom.

Why did I make this change? I realized before I started finalizing the plans for Chaos that Maxima was too new to the story. She wasn't someone people were familiar with, but Tusk was. I even got the original personality document written out before I made the change. Tusk made more sense as he had played a major role in Prelude and needed something to wrap up his arc. Obviously Maxima didn't get completely sidelined. She followed in the footsteps of Gabriela in Interlude: Shadowland.

An idea I had for the Tusk iteration of Chaos was occasional breaks for Tusk to break things down to Blood-Wraith. I nixed this to keep things coherent, with the epilogue revealing that Tusk was telling Blood-Wraith about the whole adventure, like what was indicated at the end of Interlude BC. That epilogue was really fun to write.

Like I said previously, Karnage being so brazen and the attack launched by the Eternal Church was not planned out. It just felt right... plus it put Gratiana's lethargy in Shadowland into context. She had her honors taken away and the cult's army had its arses handed to them by Droomopolis and the arbiters. It's also why the cult was in shambles by book 3, aside from everything that had happened previously. Plus all of it made Delphine's actions in Shadowland make sense.

Also Rahela and Leonard were last minute additions, as usual. Leonard was supposed to be a cameo character, but then I remembered that lightning is an Arlotti family motif and fleshed them out some more. Plus you have to admit that his appearance in the battle was epic. As for Rahela, she was actually a concept for the longest time that was inspired by HawkrRawr's work... yes, It all comes back to Ask Drunk Chara, ha. Okay, technically it was her original webcomic, but still.

Speaking of last minute additions, Wynstan being Wulfric's son and Wulfric and Ealdhelm was literally written during chapter 16... I SUCK at planning ahead. A little lore trivia for Maxima: Vita was the first Spiritus Magni for Universe-23, hence why she said "Thank Vita." She originally worshiped Vita before becoming a Spiritus Magni. And a lore tidbit for the whole story: If you witnessed this without knowledge of higher dimensions (be it being 4D+, omnidimensional, or 0D/1D), you would just see a bunch of multi-dimensional fractal polygons of pure energy ramming into each other.

So what could I have done better this time around?

Planning... as always.

Mizuki and Razor kind of got snubbed of their character interactions. I had more planned for them, but this ended up being a novela, so I had to keep things focused and on point. Also shout-out to Mayhem and Dragutin, but at least Mayhem will get time to shine in a future book.

This book being a novela. I am starting to think this should have been a full novel.

The quote tags and scene setting paragraphs. I feel these could have been better. In some places I was kind of struggling to describe things.

Pacing. Some parts aren't paced the best and may be a little awkward to read.

So what's next? Interval, which will be a bit of a departure as we're going to Earth and going to stay there for the whole book. It's also a remake of Glitchtale Alternate, finally putting that saga of mine to a rest. After that will go back to the Unlight with Eon 1, count on it.

I'd like to thank you for coming this far and sticking with me. We are moving onto book 6, holy crap. I hope to see you all again for ULTRAMagic Interval!

ULTRAMagic Chaos Chapter 20

Previous | First | Interval

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“...and you know the rest, Blood,” Tusk concluded. “You attended my wedding and Donia and I went off exploring with Randalph and Mayhem.”

Blood-Wraith stood up, stretched a little, and went to look out the window. It was late evening and he was a bit hungry. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner?”

Tusk let his head drop to the table. “I know, my bad…”

Auda lightly bopped him on the head. “Bad, Uncle Tusk.”

“Hey, wait a second!” Why didn’t you tell him anything?” Tusk received a subtle growl from Auda.

“Ahem, don’t pawn your duties off on others, Mr. Willfort,” Alexia chided.

Tusk gave her an incredulous look. “Jeez, what are you, my mother?” he quipped back.

This made Blood-Wraith chuckle. “I’m glad Driskoll was able to restore your arm, Tusk. Also should I not mention all of this around Gratiana? You know, because of my knightly duties and whatnot…”

“I’m not sure how to call that one,” Tusk replied. “Come to think of it, I’m not sure how she’d react to seeing me now.”

“Quite the conundrum, wouldn’t you say, Rich?” Drusa observed.

Vexation gave a subtle laugh and leaned back in his chair. “Indeed. Honestly, Tusk? I say go say hi to her, see how she’s doing. We’re all on the same side now after all.”

Blood-Wraith nodded. “Fair enough, Vex… but didn’t you sucker punch Uncle Deimos?” he pointed out.

“Yes, but that was just a bit of banter between old friends. Personally I say Gratiana at least owes Tusk a candy bar for the jolt she gave him.”

Tusk looked down as his stomach growled. “Speaking of that, what’s for dinner?”

“Oh yeah…” Blood-Wraith remembered as he went over to the phone. “I’ll order some pizza. Are you all interested?” There were no objections.

As he placed the order, Drusa realized something. “Oh, Blood, make it three pizzas. I’ll cover the cost.”

“Three? Why?” he asked after covering the microphone.

“Agreed,” Alexia added. “What in the Cosmos would prompt a third pizza?”

“You’ll see, trust me,” Drusa assured as she began counting out some money.

Blood-Wraith shrugged. “Two pepperoni and one supreme… alright, got it… thanks, bye.”

Vexation got up and made his way towards the cupboards for some plates. “I was considering making something meatball-related, but pizza will do.”

“Here you go, Blood,” Drusa said as she handed him the money. “Sorry for springing this on you.”

“Hum, I wonder…” Tusk noted as he went to the door. “I’ll go with you, Blood. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t drop the food, Uncle Tusk,” Auda teased.

He did not appreciate that. “Auda, I’m not that clumsy.”

There was a slight chill in the air as Blood-Wraith and Tusk stepped outside. The sun had nearly set and the street lamps were turning on. The Iron City was quite beautiful at night, with the stars twinkling above them. Leif’s constellation watched over the city as the buildings lit up, illuminating the sidewalks and roads. The Singing Storm Tower was certainly a sight to behold during the night, floating tall and proud.

Figuring they would need some extra drinks, the two quickly stopped at a grocery store. It was fairly calm, so they were able to get in and out. Continuing on their trip, Blood-Wraith spotted Gratiana of all people. She appeared to be heading in the direction of Iron Fire Station.

“Hey, Gratiana!” Blood-Wraith called out.

“Sir Raynot, how wonderful to see you. What are you doing out this late at night?”

“Oh we’re just going to get some pizza for us and the others as things ran a little late. What are you up to?”

“I’m going to fetch Adriana Hawthorne. She is due to arrive here at any minute. Back when we were in Shadowland under that bumbling idiot Milosh, Adriana was supposed to be the actual replacement for Torunn. Fortunately Andelin kept her away from the nasty cult business, so Dunja and Torunn want her as one of the new Blades.” Gratiana then noticed who Blood-Wraith was with and went pale. “Tu-Tusk Willfort?”

He smiled. “Hey, Gratiana. How have you been doing?” She was petrified.

Blood-Wraith checked his watch. “Let’s walk and talk, since Dilan’s Pizzeria is in the same direction” he instructed as they began to follow him.

“Well I’d dare say I was successful in giving Dunja and Barna a leg up then” Tusk pointed out with a laugh.

“Yes, very much so…” Gratiana admitted, unsure how to feel. “Tusk, I… I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s water under the bridge. I’m just glad you were able to turn things around.”

“I hope you’re able to get your lightning powers back, Gratiana,” Blood-Wraith added. “It would help keep everyone safe.”

Hearing that caused her heart to skip a beat. “True, Sir Raynot. That would certainly be a boon for The Iron City…” She could have sworn she felt a sense of renewed vigor.

“You should swing by the forest some time, Gratiana,” said Tusk. “Bring Barna and the others along and have dinner with us.”

She gave a guilty chuckle. “Even after our encounter in the Realm of Chaos?”

“Yup. We’re trees, and trees don’t hold grudges… Milosh is a bit of an exception, but you’re not Milosh, obviously.”

“Then I graciously accept your invitation. Just tell me what time is convenient for you.”

“Will do… hey, pizza time!” Tusk stated as they neared the pizzeria.

“See you later, Gratiana,” said Blood-Wraith. “Best of luck to you.”

“Farewell, Sir Raynot, Tusk. Have a splendid meal,” she replied.

The smell of pizza bombarded Blood-Wraith and Tusk as they entered the restaurant. Things were lively as people dined with upbeat music playing over the speakers. Recognizing Blood-Wraith, one of the cashiers called out for one of the employees to bring his order over. Some of the diners were watching as Tusk took the boxes and the two left. It was fascinating to see such a young knight roll up in uniform for some pizza.

As the two made their way back, Tusk sensed something. “Donia…”

“Donia?” Blood-Wraith inquired.

“She knows I’m out late…”

“Excuse me, sleepy bark, but you better not be having pizza without me” Donia declared as she came strolling up to the two.

Tusk laughed. “Sorry, honey. It’s just that the explanation took longer than expected.”

“So that’s what Drusa foresaw,” Blood-Wraith noted. “Well hey, Donia. Want to have dinner with us?”

“Absolutely! Also good to see you again, kiddo,” she said as she shook his hand.

Auda, Drusa, Vexation, and Alexia were all waiting patiently, talking about this and that when the three returned to the house. Happy to see her aunt, Auda went and hugged Donia. As everything was getting set up, Drusa could be seen doing a head count. Blood-Wraith walked over to her, his curiosity peaked.

“What’s the matter, Drusa? Is everyone here?” he asked.

“Close, we’re off by one head… you don’t mind one more guest, do you?”

Blood-Wraith looked around. “I guess not. Is that why you had me get the third pizza?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry, she’s one of my former students and a good friend of Tusk’s.”

Tusk caught that and walked over to the living room, pizza slice in hand. “Hold up, you don’t mean…?”

She nodded again. “If my calculations are correct, there’ll be a knock in 3…2…1…”

There was a knock at the door, with Tusk going to answer it. Standing there was a frantic and disheveled Maxima. “Tusk!?”

“Maxima! There you are. Come on in.”

“Where and when am I?!”

“Well it’s a month later and this is Blood-Wraith’s house.”

She looked like she was about to panic. “This isn’t right, I’m not supposed to be here yet!”

Blood-Wraith was not sure what to make of this, but held out his hand regardless. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maxima. Want to come have dinner with us?”

“Not yet! Not yet…” she said as she backed into the door.

Drusa calmly approached and placed her hand on her shoulder. “Maxima?”

This startled the goddess. “Drusa?”

“Don’t fret, your favorite 5th dimensional goddess is here.”

Maxima breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Vita, it’s you…”

“Now come and have some pizza with us,” Drusa said as she led Maxima to the dining room.

“But the timeline!”

Tusk laughed. “I don’t think you’re going to damage anything by eating with us.” He then cleared his throat. “Everyone, this is Maxima.”

“A pleasure to meet you, honorable Spiritus Magni,” Alexia welcomed.

“Hello, Maxima!” said Auda.

“Wow, didn’t expect this turn of events, your divinity” Donia remarked. “Jeez, Tusk, just how crazy did things get?”

Drusa sat Maxima down and handed her a plate with a slice of pizza. “Now eat. And I found Rich by the way.”

That surprised her. “Really?”

“Nice to meet you, Maxima,” Vexation said as he stretched his arm out for a hand shake. Maxima was a bit surprised by how… normal he was.

“So, Maxima, where’d you come from just now?” Blood-Wraith inquired. “Tusk says you disappeared after things were settled in the Realm of Chaos.”

“Well I wanted to check out the Trench Unlight real quickly, but I think I went too far back…”

“Just how far back did you go?” Vexation wondered.

“Back before The Mage of Old built The Magician’s Labyrinth.”

Vexation banged the table in shock. “Wait, really!? That was back during the epoch, when me, Eustorgio, Tiberius, Leif, and Mal were running around!”

“Ooh, the plot thickens…” Drusa remarked.

Maxima continued. “I even helped build the great structure as apparently my modern, 2nd era knowledge helped Eustorgio out a great deal.”

It took a second, but Vexation finally had the realization he needed. “Oh… OH! I remember you now! Blood, you remember all of the goddess statues you saw, right?”

“Yeah?” It then occurred to him. “Oh, cool! Maxima, some of those puzzle rooms were really fun” Blood-Wraith complimented.

She giggled, a little embarrassed. “Thank you, Blood-Wraith.”

Alexia took a second to wipe her face. “Maxima, if I may, how did you end up so far back in the past?”

“I used the Time Labyrinth…”

“Dear?” Drusa interrupted.

“Yes, teacher?”

“Are you in the mood for a little constructive criticism?”

“Sure?” Maxima cautiously answered.

“That was your first mistake,” Drusa said with a clap.

“Time Labyrinth?” Auda questioned. “Sounds weird. What is it?”

“4th dimensionals, like Maxima, use it to get around since they don’t fully understand time yet” Drusa elaborated. “It’s an anomaly that just popped up one day, under similar principles to how Reality Errors manifest.”

Maxima felt a little embarrassed again. “I thought I had figured it out…”

Drusa refilled her cup with soda, then filled up Maxima’s. “Don’t worry, I'll get you back to where you’re supposed to be.”

“Are you sure you can?”

She nodded affirmatively. “Yes, but you should stay the night first.”

“Are you sure about that?” Maxima was a bit concerned.

“You need the rest and Blood has some really cool movies.”

Blood-Wraith chuckled and got up. “I’ll go pick one now. I’m personally in the mood for Hyperstar V: The Quest for Challenger’s Gulf…”

“Do you have the director’s cut?” Tusk interjected.

“Yup!”

“Awesome! Donia brought it to my attention, Maxima. You’re going to love it.”

“I’ll take your word for it” she replied. Despite being in the wrong time, Maxima felt pretty good at the moment. If going back in time to the epoch was her biggest blunder, then some pizza and a good movie was no big deal, truth be told.

To be continued…

Next: Interval

#chaotictempleknight #ultramagic alternate #fantasy #sciencefiction #sciencefictionfantasy #literature #writing #story #final chapter #science fiction fantasy #science fiction #writeblr #writerslift #bookblr #digital novel #novelseries #umae #serial novel

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theforgottenmcrmy · 3 years ago

Text

After All (Part 17/?)

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism, Suggestions/Non-Explicit Descriptions of Violence, Mild Angst, Non-Explicit Sexual References

Summary: Though it made sense, the realization was shocking. Maybe their time apart hadn’t erased what she felt for him after all.

Word Count: 15,900 ish. I give up.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 16 /// Part 17 /// Part 18

A/N: I know I said we’d get back to regular programming but I just started writing and this chapter got away from me. Today’s my birthday, and I’m so happy that this particular chapter is the one being posted today, for the reasons you’ll see. I’ll admit this was pretty much a self-service chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

First, I start a new job tomorrow (if you feel so inclined, any good vibes sent my way would be much appreciated 😅), but I wanted to let you know that I’m still planning to write and post one chapter a week for the time being. This next one may be a bit delayed, but I will let you know.

Second, I’m now open to requests for oneshots and headcanons, and more info about that can be found on this post.

As always, thank you again for your support.💙 I hope you guys have a great rest of the week!

Part 17: A Choice

Waking up the next morning was just like waking up on any other.

Well, except the additional body in Roxie’s small bed.

She stirred lightly, but something in the back of her mind chided her about trying not to disturb Riff, who was laying beside her. As Roxie opened her eyes slowly, she realized that that task would be easier said than done. She was tucked into Riff’s side, which was a necessity, given the size of the bed. But she wasn’t going to complain. Apparently, she’d been using his chest as a makeshift pillow. His arm was around her shoulders, keeping her close.

The two had been exhausted from the events of the night before. They made it up to Roxie’s apartment on the sixth floor in record speed, even skipping a step every now and then. When they had reached the door, Roxie unlocked it, snuck her head inside, and confirmed that Betty’s door was shut tight and she had already turned in for the night. She encouraged Riff to come inside a moment later and the two made a beeline for her bedroom. Once they’d reached it, she closed the door behind them, set her purse on the nightstand, and they quickly took off a few various articles of clothing in order to get comfortable. After that, they’d promptly plopped on the bed, not bothering to mess with any of the sheets. That was fine- being tucked into Riff’s side was probably warmer than being covered with the sheets, anyway.

After that, Roxie laid awake for perhaps an hour or so, just thinking about everything that had happened. Riff probably had too. But it was clear that they must’ve fallen asleep at some point.

Roxie heard Riff’s light snores and as she looked up at his face, she confirmed he was still dead to the world. It had been a long time since she’d woken up beside him.

Too long.

Roxie smiled softly and scooted closer to him. Once she was settled, she began to take in the sight of him.

Dark circles were painted underneath his eyes, but that wasn’t very surprising. How much sleep could he have gotten with three of the Jets crashing in his living room for the past few months?

Her eyes fell from his face and down to his arms. Riff had taken off his button up shirt before climbing into her bed the night before, which left him in an undershirt and his jeans. From her position, only one of his arms was exposed to her. She took in the sight of it anyways, curiously checking to see if any additional ink adorned it.

The first one she noticed was the pinup tattoo on the inside of his right forearm. It had been the second tattoo Riff had ever gotten, with the first one being his Jets tattoo. Roxie had actually been present when Riff had gotten it. Of course, her aunt had no idea at the time, and she thought Roxie had been studying for an upcoming test with Velma. In reality, Roxie and Tony had gone along with Riff to the tattoo parlor being run on the down-low out of the basement of a music shop a few blocks away. It seemed to be an odd choice of venue, but the customers testing out instruments upstairs made a nice cover for the buzzing of the tattoo machine and the yelping of anyone getting poked on the floor below. It was a small operation, but it got the job done. Roxie remembered thinking how cool it was that Riff even had a connection to get a piece done by the artist.

I wonder if that shop is even still open.

The second tattoo Roxie recognized was the skunk tattoo Riff had gotten on the very top part of his right arm, right near his shoulder. Roxie hadn’t gone with him when he’d gotten that one done, but she remembered lightly teasing him about it. Riff had insisted it held some sort of meaning to him, but he’d never shared that meaning with her. She’d always taken his word for it.

There weren’t any other tattoos, at least not that Roxie could see from her current vantage point. Her eyes trailed back up to Riff’s chest, and her cheeks warmed a bit as she dared to wonder if he’d gotten any additional tattoos since she’d last seen him in a similar state that were simply covered up by his undershirt.

She could have laid there for quite some time, simply watching him sleep and reassuring herself that he was safe. What would she have done if something had happened to him the previous night?

Roxie tried not to think about the idea too much. Riff was already playing with fire with his behavior and actions towards the Sharks. There was no use in worrying about everything that might have happened with Mr. Barone. She had no choice but to try not to dwell on it, even though she doubted her dreams would let her forget what had happened to them.

Roxie wanted to hate the man, Mr. Barone. He could’ve killed Riff at any moment. She didn’t need to see a gun to know Mr. Barone must have been carrying one.

All it would’ve taken was one second, and Riff would’ve been a goner. Just like Henry had been. Roxie carried guilt over Henry’s death with her to that day, and if something had happened to Riff the night before, her guilt would’ve been amplified tenfold. In some disturbing way, Roxie supposed that Mr. Barone could have been considered merciful. At the very least, he was more merciful than the scum that had decided Henry’s life was an even exchange for whatever amount of money he’d owed at the time.

And still, directly or not, Mr. Barone had caused a great deal of grief for her, and despite his merciful act of letting them both live another day, he wasn’t off the hook. If he hadn’t decided to play God that night in the alley over a year and a half back, Riff and Roxie never would’ve witnessed a murder. If they hadn’t witnessed a murder, they wouldn’t have been distracted and gotten caught by the cops. If they hadn’t gotten caught by the cops, Riff never would’ve taken the fall for them and gone to jail. And if Riff had never gone to jail, he wouldn’t have been motivated to break things off with Roxie.

It was really crazy to think about how far they’d come. But since they had been able to overcome so much and still find a way back together, Roxie felt confident that she could help Riff overcome the pressing issue with the Sharks. Whatever was going on between the Jets and Sharks would pass, just as it had with the Bishops, the Emeralds, and the Egyptian Kings. She just hoped it would pass sooner rather than later.

Though Roxie was happy not moving from Riff’s side, her stomach offered up some protest to the idea. There was also the fact that Riff had barely been able to eat any of his dinner the night before, and Roxie knew Riff rarely found the money or time to eat a proper meal the rest of the time when she wasn’t around. He’d probably be hungry too.

Roxie carefully shimmed out from underneath Riff’s arm and lightly placed it back down on top of a nearby pillow. She watched him as Riff shifted a bit, but remained asleep. Roxie slowly turned, threw her legs over the side of the bed, and stood.

One of her feet brushed against RIff’s discarded shirt. Roxie leaned down, picked it up, and quietly shook it out a bit. It was probably a lost cause, and she had a feeling Riff didn’t care one bit if his shirt was wrinkled, but it was a habit. When she was satisfied with her effort, she turned and hung the shirt over the metal railing of the bed’s headboard.

Then, Roxie turned and headed towards the door. She didn’t make it but a few steps away from the bed when she stubbed her toe on something sharp. She hissed, grabbed her injured foot in one hand and hopped on the other foot in order to keep her balance.

After a moment, Roxie let out a pained sigh as quietly as she could before standing on both feet once again. Warily, she turned around to look at Riff.

Much to her relief, he was still fast asleep.

Roxie turned once again to face where she’d been headed. She looked down at her feet and immediately spotted the heels she’d been wearing the night before. Riff’s sneakers were just a few feet away from them. She picked up both pairs of shoes and set them down at the foot of the bed in the hopes to avoid stubbing her tone on any of them again.

As she put the shoes back down on the floor, her faded light blue housecoat on the nearby clothing rack caught her eye. Roxie looked down at her dress, which was the same one she had been wearing the night before.

She looked over at the bed and noted that Riff was still asleep. It was enough for her to make up her mind. Roxie slipped off her dress easily and threw it over top of the clothing rack to be dealt with later. She grabbed the housecoat of the hanger, slipped it on, and tied it in the front to keep it secure.

Finally, Roxie made it to the bedroom door. She opened it, swiftly slid through the opening, and closed it gently behind her. When she had done that, she let out a sigh of relief.

Now that Riff was behind a closed door, she could stop walking on eggshells.

…

Eggs sound nice.

Eggs were probably all Roxie had in the refrigerator that she could offer up as breakfast, so they’d have to do.

Roxie headed over to the kitchen and set about starting to cook. She’d never made Riff breakfast before, so she wasn’t sure how he liked his eggs, if he even had a preference, or if Riff even liked eggs at all. Though they had woken up in the same bed on quite a few occasions, one of them always had to sneak out before Roxie’s aunt or Riff’s uncle noticed the other’s presence. If they had the time, they’d both sneak out and head over to a local diner to order some breakfast instead.

Roxie only contemplated for a few seconds before deciding that Riff would probably eat whatever she made him, regardless of how it was made.

As the eggs in the skillet on the stove began to sizzle, the front door to the apartment opened.

Roxie glanced over at the doorway and saw Betty close the door behind her. She was dressed in a dress far more formal than the ones she usually wore to the office. And given the earliness of the hour, it wasn’t likely Betty was already back from work. When Betty turned to face her, Roxie noted her slightly disheveled hair and makeup that didn’t look like it had been recently applied, which told Roxie everything she needed to know.

Betty’s bedroom door had been closed the previous night, but Roxie had incorrectly assumed that she had been sleeping behind it.

“Roxie!” Betty greeted, sounding surprised.

“Morning,” Roxie replied, unable to hide her knowing smile. “Long night?”

Betty nodded quickly and let out a nervous laugh. “You could say that.”

Roxie let out a small laugh of her own as she began to shift the eggs around the skillet with a spatula.

“I’m glad you’re here, Roxie,” Betty said. She walked past the kitchen and towards her bedroom, talking over her shoulder as she went. “I’m running late for work, but I’ve got some big news! Give me a few minutes.”

As Betty opened her bedroom door, Roxie replied, still smiling, “Take as much time as you need.”

Betty shut her bedroom door behind her. If Riff was still sleeping, he wasn’t likely to be sleeping for much longer. Roxie could only hope he’d wait until Betty left again to go to work before exiting her bedroom, if only to save her from an awkward encounter.

Roxie heard Betty exit her bedroom and enter the bathroom a minute or so later. By the time she was finished cooking the eggs and had moved the skillet to another burner on the stovetop to begin to cool, Betty had exited the bathroom and entered the kitchen once again.

“So, my news!” Betty began as she opened the refrigerator. She stuck her head inside briefly and grabbed something. She stood up straight and closed the door behind her. Then, she turned to face Roxie.

Betty was now dressed in her usual work attire, and her makeup and hair looked considerably more put together. She held a sack lunch that she must have prepared previously in her hands. But there was something else on her hand that was catching the light from the window across the room.

Roxie gasped. “Is that-”

“It is!” Betty confirmed, beaming brightly. She held out her left hand for Roxie to see.

Roxie took a step forward to get a closer look at the ring.

Holy-

“Is it the lawyer?” Roxie asked politely.

Betty nodded enthusiastically.

That was no surprise. The rock on the ring Betty wore was huge. Roxie was no expert in jewels, but she could tell the one that the lawyer chose for Betty must’ve cost him a small fortune. In all honesty, Roxie thought Betty should consider where she wore it. Wearing a ring like that around the neighborhood would bring the wrong kind of attention to one’s self.

“It’s lovely,” Roxie complemented, looking back up at Betty as the other woman retracted her hand. “I’m guessing you’ll be moving out, then?”

“In a few weeks, most likely,” Betty said apologetically. “I’ll be moving in with his sister until the wedding in a month or two.”

“That’s great,” Roxie replied, unsure of what else to say. After a moment, she added, “I’m happy for you, Betty.”

Betty smiled once more. Roxie had the feeling that Betty would be full of smiles until the day she moved out. “Thank you!” Betty adjusted her dress and brushed off what must have been a little bit of dust from near her collar. “Well, I better head to work now. I don’t think my boss will be very understanding if I’m tardy.”

“You better go, then,” Roxie agreed with a small smile.

Betty nodded and turned to leave, but suddenly she paused. She looked over at the skillet behind Roxie and smirked. “Isn’t that a lot of eggs for just yourself?”

“Long night,” Roxie said with a smirk, echoing Betty’s own explanation from a few minutes before.

Betty nodded understandingly with a smile and glanced over at Roxie’s closed bedroom door briefly before looking back at her. “We’ll talk later. Have a good rest of your morning.”

“You too.”

Betty had not been gone for more than a minute before Roxie’s bedroom door opened slowly. Roxie looked over and watched as Riff opened the door and craned his neck around the door to glance about the room. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he opened the door fully and took a step into the living room.

Riff’s hair was slightly disheveled from sleep, and Roxie couldn’t help but snicker at the sight. He had thrown his shirt on, but had not bothered to button it up. Fortunately, he had not bothered to put his shoes on either, indicating that he had no intentions of going anywhere just yet.

Riff continued to look around the room for a moment before his eyes finally landed on her. And when they did, he smiled.

The way he smiled at her made her feel like melting inside. If Roxie hadn’t known any better, the awful events of the previous evening were just a bad dream. It was hard to find any rational explanation that they had both made it through everything and were now standing in her apartment unharmed.

“It was cold in the bed without ya.”

Roxie almost involuntarily laughed in reaction to his bluntness. “I’m sorry.”

“Good news about your roommate,” Riff commented nonchalantly, apparently having heard at least the majority of their conversation.

Roxie nodded. “It’ll be lonely when she moves out.”

“I can come ‘round more often, if ya want,” Riff offered with a slightly mischievous smile.

Roxie let out a light laugh. “You promise?”

Riff smiled a bit wider as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. When he reached her, his arms snaked around her back with familiar ease and he pulled her closer to him. Roxie closed her eyes, thinking Riff’s next move would be to lean down and kiss her, but when he made no move to do so, she frowned in confusion, opened her eyes and looked back up at him.

His expression was rather serious, and was almost a bit somber.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

Riff stared down at her for a few moments before continuing. As he spoke, a small smile threatened to break his serious composure. “Did we really survive a run-in with a mobster last night?”

It was silent for a few beats.

“... I think so?” Roxie answered, uncertainty plain as day in her voice.

It was quiet for just a few more seconds until they both broke into a fit of laughter. All of the stress from the evening before had finally boiled over, and they allowed themselves to have a bit of a laugh at their own expenses. Maybe it was a little manic, but it felt necessary.

As they laughed, the two leaned into their embrace. Riff’s arms tightened around her and Roxie pressed the side of her face up against him in an effort to get closer. As Riff laughed, Roxie could feel the light thuds of his laughter bounce off his chest. After a few moments of laughter, Roxie felt involuntary tears start to pool in her eyes before they eventually fell down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure whether the tears were from stress or from the laughter, but she didn’t care.

Their laughter subsided after a minute or two. The two pulled apart, and Roxie immediately began to wipe away the tears that had fallen, still letting out the occasional chuckle as she forced herself to calm down. Based on his reaction, seeing her in such a state almost fueled Riff’s laughter even further, but he forced himself to calm down as well. Wordlessly, he calmly lifted his hands to her face and swiped away the tears she had missed with his thumbs. Even when the tears were gone, his hands remained, gently cradling the sides of her face.

Once the both of them were fully settled, Riff leaned down and finally kissed her. To say that Roxie felt a great deal of emotion behind the kiss was an understatement. But Riff didn’t need to explain himself. Roxie returned the kiss with just as much fervor.

After a few moments, Riff pulled away and dropped his hands. Before Roxie could protest, he leaned his head to the side to look behind her.

“Do I smell food?” he asked.

“I made us eggs.”

“You… you made us breakfast?”

Riff sounded genuinely surprised, and his tone was shy and a bit sheepish.

It was in that moment that Roxie realized Riff was probably taken aback by her actions. When would have been the last time someone had made that gesture for him? Given the extended stay with his uncle and then Tony’s folks, the last time breakfast was probably prepared for Riff was most likely done by his mother. And she had been dead for over a decade.

“Action wasn’t the only one who noticed you barely got to eat last night,” Roxie said simply. “Plus, I was hungry too.”

She took his hand and gently led him over to the small kitchen table before gesturing to him to take a seat. Riff did as she wordlessly asked and did not protest, though he watched her every move.

“Now, I don’t do this for just anyone,” Roxie declared. She turned back to the stove, opened the nearby cupboard, and grabbed two plates. “But after last night, I figured you deserved a bit of a break.” She quickly scooped a decent helping of the scrambled eggs onto each of the plates before turning and placing them on the table.

Riff still looked at her like he was waiting for some kind of punch line as she grabbed some silverware from a nearby drawer and then sat down in the second chair placed at the small table. “You didn’t have to make me food,” he said.

“Well, I did,” Roxie countered. Roxie wasted no time in taking a bite off her plate.

Eventually, Riff relaxed and began digging into his helping as well.

The two ate in silence for several minutes.

“Do you want something to drink?” Roxie asked.

Riff shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

The silence continued as the weight of the previous night’s events continued to hang over them like the thick fog of a fall morning that simply refused to let up.

“What are you going to do with your share of the money?” Roxie dared to ask.

Riff paused mid bite, and set his fork down on his plate. “Ya know… same old. It’ll put a nice dent in one of the loans in particular.”

“Is that what was bothering you last night at the diner?”

Riff nodded, but his eyes were focused on his plate as he picked up his fork again. “My uncle got some kinda late notice.”

That sounds serious. “Do you think you’ll have enough to pay the amount they asked for?” Roxie asked, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

Riff nodded once again, though this time he met her eyes. “I’ll make it work.”

He gave her a smile, but it wasn’t like the genuine smile he wore before. It looked a bit strained, and maybe even forced.

“Riff, if you need any help-“

“I’m not gonna ask ya for money,” Riff insisted, shaking his head. “That ain’t fair. Besides, unless ya counted it this mornin’ already, who knows how much we actually have? I’m sure my half will be more than enough to take care of it.”

Roxie hoped he was right.

“What’re ya gonna do with your cut?”

Roxie was slightly taken aback by Riff’s question, but it was a fair one. Still, Roxie was afraid of answering it, and she’d have been lying to herself if she said that she didn’t fear his reaction. She took the last few bites of her eggs while debating her words. “I’ll put it towards my tuition.”

Riff’s focus was on his plate once again and he merely hummed in response.

“It should be enough, actually,” Roxie added hesitantly, watching Riff’s face for any indication that he processed what she was saying, “to pay for the upcoming semester.”

At that moment, Riff had finished his helping of eggs and no longer had the plate to focus on. He looked at her once more and forced a small smile. “That’s great, Doll.”

Riff rose from his chair. Roxie rose from hers as well and watched as Riff grabbed his empty plate, walked over to the sink, and placed the plate inside it.

“I don’t have to-“

“Roxie, it’s fine,” Riff swore, sounding significantly more sincere than his smile a moment before suggested. He turned to her and gently placed his hands on her upper arms. “I always knew there was a chance you’d go back.”

“I meant what I said; I’m not getting out of this neighborhood without you, at least not permanently,” Roxie reminded him seriously. “Me going back this semester shouldn’t affect us, and I don’t want it to. Besides, at this rate, I won’t even be able to afford to live near campus.”

“How would that work?”

“My own two feet and the subway system.”

Riff dropped his hands and his face scrunched slightly as he contemplated her words. Roxie could tell he was not entirely convinced, but he also didn’t look too willing to continue discussing the subject. Eventually, Riff rolled his eyes and Roxie felt a bit of relief at his lightened composure.

“We’ll figure it out,” Roxie reassured him.

Riff didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looked down at her with an earnest look in his eyes. “... Ya know, you’re gonna be a great teacher, Roxie.”

Roxie could’ve sworn her heart skipped a beat.

Riff cleared his throat and his usual lighter demeanor began to slip back in. “If that’s what ya decide to study, I mean-“

Roxie leaned up to stand on the tips of her toes and pressed a quick kiss to Riff’s cheek, effectively silencing him. She turned quickly, deciding not to call Riff out on the slight red that grew on his face, grabbed her empty plate, and put it in the sink beside his.

“There’s something else,” Roxie said then.

Riff snapped out of his small daze. “Yeah?”

“Those favors from him,” Roxie continued, unable to say the man’s name out of fear of being overheard despite the fact that it was only the two of them. “We’re not going to actually cash those in, right?”

Riff shook his head. “I may be many things, but crazy ain’t one of them.”

At least they were on the same page on that issue. Roxie mentally removed “making sure Riff avoids a run-in with the Mafia” off her list of growing concerns for him. “There’s one last thing,” she realized out loud.

“What is it?”

“What happened last night has to stay between us, and only us.”

“You, me, Action, and Ice.”

“No,” Roxie disagreed quickly. “The more people who know about what happened, the more dangerous it is. Besides, Action and Ice don’t know everything that has happened regarding him. And as long as we do what he asks and don’t keep quiet, we’ll never see him again. Why bring them Action and Ice into it at all?”

Riff looked down at her thoughtfully as he considered everything she had said. “Fine,” he said. “But that means Tony don’t need to know, either.”

Roxie scoffed. “You’re just saying that because you two aren’t getting along right now.”

“‘Not gettin’ along’ is a mild way to put it, Roxie,” Riff corrected quickly. Before she had the chance to snap back a remark, he continued. “Tony doesn’t know everythin’ that went down over the past few years, either. What happens if we tell him, and a certain someone finds out we told him, and then that certain someone gets word about Tony talkin’ to his parole officer?”

“Tony would never rat us out.”

“Not sayin’ he would,” Riff clarified. “All I’m sayin’ is that Tony could be talkin’ to the guy about the weather, and if someone sees him talkin’ to a cop, it ain’t gonna mean good things for us, I can promise ya that.”

Roxie thought over what Riff had said, but she didn’t have to think for too long at all. Riff had a point. “Okay,” she relented. “This stays between us.”

Riff took her hands in his. “Just us.”

————————————————————————————

Riff would never allow himself to physically have a skip in his step, but he sure felt it internally as he headed back to the shop later that morning.

Not even the severe setback of the near death experience from the previous night would be able to kill Riff’s mood, though Riff knew he wouldn’t be forgetting it any time soon. That morning with Roxie had only sweetened the deal.

He was in love.

Riff had never been in love before, at least not that he’d known. But what other word could describe what he was feeling? The worst fear he’d ever felt in his life the previous night at the thought of something awful happening to her was one thing. The happiness and security he felt with her that morning knowing that she was safe was another.

And Riff couldn’t tell Roxie, or anyone else for that matter, that he loved her, but he knew.

If he told Roxie, she would probably return his words, whether she actually felt it or not. If Riff was going to ever hear those words from her, he had to be sure she meant it.

Riff didn’t want or need pity, and Roxie would know that. Riff didn’t need to love or have anyone to love him. Love was a privilege, and Riff knew that damn well.

But, and perhaps more importantly, the fear that Riff was forcing Roxie to stay in the neighborhood against her better judgment was starting to grow each day. If he told her he loved her, it would just be another reason she could give herself to justify sticking around. And if Roxie truly wanted to stick around, Riff wouldn’t fight her too hard on the subject. But he still worried there would come a day where she came to her senses and blamed him for her circumstances.

The only way Riff would ever say the words to her was if Roxie made the move first. And if she never said it, that was fine by him.

Riff would still love her just the same.

If only he could talk to Tony. After the night before, Riff was beginning to give some serious thought as to whether he should cut Tony some slack. If Tony was stubborn enough to stick to his “keep outta trouble” motto for the time being, at least until he got his head on straight and came back around to the Jets, maybe Riff didn’t have to give him such a difficult time about it. Even if Tony made it too easy for Riff not to give him some grief. Riff and Tony had always been that way- give a little here, take a little there. Family was like that. If Tony was taking a little this time around, maybe it was Riff’s turn to give a little.

If Riff could find a way to let Tony know he was willing to back off of his case, at least a little bit, maybe that would open the door to getting things back to the way they should be. Tony was his best friend, his brother. They shouldn’t be at odds. Tony should be beside him, making jokes and teasing Riff as he tries to navigate through the mess of feelings about Roxie he had suddenly found himself entangled in. Tony was no relationship expert by any means, but Riff trusted his opinion just the same.

But how could Riff even begin to approach Tony about everything that had happened?

“Ya know, Superman, I had a near-death experience with a mobster the other night and it made me realize I’m bein’ a bit too hard on ya. Oh, by the way, I’m head over heels for Roxie and I need your help to make sure I don’t put my foot in my mouth and mess it up real good.”

Riff had already agreed with Roxie that it was best to keep the whole ‘mobster’ thing between the two of them, and only the two of them. It really was for the best. But if Riff didn’t have that to use as an explanation to Tony for the sudden change of heart, what else did he have?

As Riff turned the corner around the block and the shop came into view, Riff noted that the garage door was already opened and he hesitated. He had no regrets about crashing at Roxie’s place the night before, but he hadn’t considered the reaction of some of the guys if they had noticed his absence.

Riff entered through the garage door slowly, not wanting to make much of a scene. Unfortunately for him, as soon as he entered the room, Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar paused their work on the sedan that had been brought in the day before. They looked up and watched as he took a few slow steps into the shop.

“Hey, fellas,” Riff greeted tiredly, suddenly feeling a little awkward. It was like he had been busted for something, though he wasn’t sure what.

Smowboy smirked. “We didn’t hear you or Diesel come in last night, Riff.”

Diesel gave Snowboy a warning look while Riff looked at Diesel with an amused smirk as he put the pieces together. “Well, ya know,” Riff said carefully. “We were all just tearin’ up the town.“

Diesel gave Riff an odd look, and Riff gave him as subtle of a look as possible that said: please keep quiet.

“Ya sure that was all you lot were up to?” Snowboy teased with a smirk.

Diesel’s suspicion was immediately forgotten as he glared at Snowboy.

As much as Riff typically didn’t mind the guys’ teasing and antics, the longer he stood there, the heavier his cut of the cash from the previous evening was beginning to feel in his back pocket. “I gotta go take care of somethin’ upstairs, I’ll be back down in a few.”

Thankfully, his explanation was enough for Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar, who quickly resumed their work on the sedan after a few more jestful quips. Riff walked past them with purpose and bounded up the stairs.

Riff closed the apartment door behind him and took extra care to make sure it was closed tightly. He crossed the living room area, opened his bedroom door, entered, and did the same to that door.

Only then did Riff feel comfortable finally removing the burden that was the wad of cash from his back left pocket. Before he left her apartment, Roxie had counted out the money before the two of them. At least Mr. Barone had done them a favor and given them an even amount. Riff could easily have seen a disagreement with Roxie taking place if they’d been given an odd amount of cash and been forced to choose who would get the slightly larger portion.

You take it.

No, you.

Riff had tried to hide any visible reaction that would display the sinking feeling he felt as Roxie finished counting the money. Fortunately, she hadn’t seemed to notice.

Riff crossed the bedroom and walked over to the desk. He opened the same drawer he kept his personal cash stashed in, took out said cash, and placed the bills with the wad of cash from the morning on the desk’s surface.

As Riff counted through all the physical money he had to his name, the late notice his uncle received just the previous day laid on top of the desk, just off to the right. Though it was an inanimate object, Riff felt like it was almost mocking his efforts.

Riff finished counting a few moments later and the sinking feeling he felt in his gut cemented itself as his worry was confirmed.

Shit.

He glanced over at the late notice to the right.

Damn.

Riff hoped the money from Mr. Barone would be more than enough to cover the amount that the bank had offered to settle the issue of the late payments. But even if he included all of his own personal savings- which he did not want to do, if it could be avoided- there still wouldn’t be enough funds to compile the full amount the bank had requested.

What was he supposed to do? Throw all his personal cash in the mix, still not have enough to satisfy the settlement offer amount, and also not have any money of his own? Roxie would understand if he couldn’t pay for some of their dates, but Riff’s stomach wouldn’t have such an easy time understanding if Riff simply stopped eating. Even the pathetic loaf of bread in the kitchen cost some green.

If only Mr. Barone had given them just a little bit more dough, it might have been enough. But Riff wasn’t feeling bold enough to call the man up, using the number on the business cards he’d given them, and try to negotiate.

Said business card was burning a whole in Riff’s other back pocket. Without a second thought, Riff took it out of the pocket and tossed it into the open drawer and out of sight. He had no intention of using it currently, and he had told Roxie as much. But there was always the looming threat of a rainy day in the future.

Sending the bank no money at all wasn’t an option. But Riff, or, RIff’s uncle rather, was already behind on payments.

They’ll take some money over no money, right?

Riff wasn’t sure if he even believed his own thoughts, but he was fresh out of other ideas.

Riff combined the bills into a single neat stack and rummaged through the open drawer once more. He quickly found an envelope and took it out. Roxie had brought him several a few weeks back to save him trips to the post office and encourage him to actually mail payments for the loans and taxes.

He set about stuffing all the money he had received from Mr. Barone and about half of his personal savings into the envelope. Once he was done, Riff looked at the late notice to his right, and blindly scrambled across the desk for a pen with his free hand. His fingers found one a moment later, and he quickly scrawled down the payment mailing address across the front of the envelope.

Riff looked at the late notice once again. After a moment, he folded it up and stuffed it in the envelope as well. It was better to get it out of sight with the rest of the cash than leave it laying around. If Roxie saw it, she'd realize he didn’t have the amount they were asking for.

When Riff was finished, he dropped the pen and seriously contemplated heading down to the post office a few blocks over right then and there. Despite the additional time he had still had left to come up with the money, Riff knew he wouldn't have enough of his personal stash saved up by the deadline, and money didn’t fall from the Mr. Barone money tree every night.

Or at least, Riff hoped it didn't.

Riff was perfectly fine with never seeing the man again.

He’d already been absent from the shop overnight and was late getting in that morning. Heading out again would only make the guys, particularly Diesel, more suspicious. Riff couldn't take the chance that they would start asking too many questions or spread gossip to the other Jets about what he may or may not have been up to.

First thing tomorrow, he decided without another thought.

Riff would take the money to the post office first thing in the morning. Maybe the bank would take pity on his uncle and accept the partial settlement payment.

Riff didn’t want to think too much about what would happen if they didn’t.

————————————————————————————

Summer rainy spells in New York City weren’t uncommon, but they happened seldom enough to turn the city into a temporary mess whenever they struck.

The rain continued to pour two mornings later, just as it had the night before. It rained throughout the night, and while it had provided a soothing ambience for Roxie to fall asleep to, the thought of going out in the weather during the day was enough to dampen her mood. It had been bad enough getting soaked to the bone the previous evening while Riff walked her home from work.

Of course, there hadn’t been any indication of rain during the daytime. It’d been another hot, gorgeous summer day. Well, as gorgeous as it could be in the West Side. So when the skies opened up that evening, Riff and Roxie had been taken by surprise and were forced to find temporary shelter under a nearby awning. However, the rain refused to let up, and the two had been forced to make their way back to Roxie’s apartment as fast as they could manage.

When they finally arrived, Roxie insisted on Riff waiting out the rain with her in her apartment, but he had declined, insisting that he had something to take care of first thing the following morning. Not wanting to continue to bicker with him while the rain continued to pour down upon them, Roxie eventually relented.

Roxie had gone inside her apartment and ditched her soaking clothes immediately. She hoped Riff had done the same. She had advised him as such as he jogged away from her apartment. A cold could wreak a bit of havoc on someone without a good diet or decent immune system, and Roxie knew from previous experience that Riff had neither.

At least I have an umbrella this time, Roxie thought to herself as she thought about the trek she was about to make over to the auto shop.

But first, Roxie had to make a trip to the post office. After confirming the amount they'd been given, Roxie realized that her cut from Mr. Barone was just enough to cover the tuition for the upcoming semester. She had every intention of mailing it out to the bursar’s office as soon as possible, even if that meant she had to fight through the rain in order to do so.

As Roxie was finishing up brushing her hair, the phone rang out from the living area. The fact that Betty had already gone to work for the day encouraged Roxie to race to the phone to ensure that she reached it in time.

“Hello?” she answered, only slightly out of breath.

“Uh, yeah, can I speak to Roxie?”

It was Gee-Tar.

Roxie snickered. “Gee-Tar, it’s me. Where are you calling from?”

“The shop.”

“How’d you get this number?”

“I found it jotted down on some scrap paper Riff left in the kitchen. Said it was in “‘case of emergency”.”

Roxie had given Riff the number to the landline in the apartment a few weeks back. She ignored the fluttering feeling she felt at the idea of Riff indicating that she should be contacted in such an event. Wait. “And is there an emergency?” she asked then, a slight panic beginning to rise.

“Nothin’ too alarmin’, except Riff ain’t comin’ outta his room.”

Roxie glanced at the clock on top of the nearby stove. It was already past 10 o’clock. “He hasn’t been out of his room at all this morning?”

“No.”

If Riff hadn’t even been able to bring himself to get out of bed and take care of the errand he had talked about the night before, Roxie had a pretty good idea as to why.

“Alright, I'll be over there soon as I can.”

The trip to the post office could wait until later in the morning.

————————————————————————————

Though some summer days were hard to watch pass by through the storefront window of Doc’s, that day was not one of them.

Tony could see the water pouring down from the awning and gutters from his spot behind the counter. He pitied anyone who had to be out and about in the weather.

As he wiped down the counter to clean up a bit of dust that had fallen from the boxes he’d used to stock the shelves earlier, the front door opened and the bell attached to it rang, echoing throughout the shop.

Tony glanced up and watched as Roxie closed her umbrella and leaned it up against the outside of the building before shuffling outside.

“Quite the day, huh?” he asked her with a smirk.

Though she was mostly dry, Roxie shook her hands a few times in an attempt to fling off any excess water. “You could say that.” She walked across the shop, stopped before the shelves across from the counter, and started to peruse them with purpose. “And it’s not even a warm rain.”

Tony set the rag aside and watched as Roxie reached for a can of soup on a particularly high shelf to no avail. Though he found her struggle a bit amusing, Tony decided to put an end to her suffering. He walked around the counter, and grabbed the soup she’d been reaching for with ease.

“Thanks,” she said with a small mile as he handed the can to her. “This should be it.”

Tony took the hint and made his way back around the counter to ring her up. “What’re you doin’ out in this weather, anyway?” he asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity. He knew better than to pry into the happenings of typical customers, but this was Roxie.

“Riff is sick.”

Tony did a double take. “Riff’s sick?”

“I think so,” Roxie clarified. “I’m about to head over to the shop now.”

Tony nodded as he took the money Roxie offered him and put it into the register’s drawer.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Roxie added quietly after a moment.

“Right,” Tony replied casually.

Despite their argument in the park a few weeks prior, Tony couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of worry for Riff. Whenever he’d come down with something in the past, it usually kept him down for a few days. But if Tony couldn’t be there to keep an eye on him, he felt better knowing that Roxie would be.

“You could swing by later,” Roxie suggested. “You could see for yourself how he’s doing.”

Tony shook his head. “I better not. Me and Riff… we ain’t-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roxie interjected dismissively. “You’re not on good terms right now, I know.”

Tony gave her a small smile. Given that the last conversation he had with Riff ended up in an argument in the park, what Roxie said was putting the status of things with him and Riff lightly. “Say, ya wanna get a bite to eat sometime?” he asked, changing the subject. “I feel like I’ve done nothin’ but work and sleep for the past few weeks.”

It was true. Between things heating up with the Jets and the Sharks on the streets, the increasingly sporadic visits from his parole officer, and just the plain heat of the summer days, Tony felt compelled more often than not to spend almost the entirety of his day in Doc’s, regardless of whether he was on the clock.

“You don’t want to make up with Riff, but you still want to spend time with me?” Roxie questioned suspiciously. Tony could tell by her tone and the small smile on her lips that she was teasing him. After a moment, she gave a small, mock sigh. “You’re lucky we’re friends, Wyzeck.”

Tony laughed once. “I guess so, Ms. Thomas.”

Roxie smiled nervously and grabbed the can of soup off the counter. “I’ll swing by in a few days.”

The answer was vague, and not like her usual self. She shifted on her feet, as if suddenly anxious to leave the store. She glanced at the exit every few seconds. She seemed worried.

“You good, Roxie?” Tony asked her carefully.

Roxie looked away from the door and back at him. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

If Tony wasn’t beginning to feel a bit concerned about why Roxie was refusing to tell him what was on her mind, he would’ve laughed at her rushed reassurances. “You seem nervous ‘bout somethin’.”

“I just want to get going and check on Riff,” she replied, not meeting his eyes and shifting on her feet once again.

Tony had a feeling there was something more going on than just that, but he could tell that now was not the time to push her. “I’ll let ya go, then,” he relented. “But, ya sure everythin’ is alright?”

Roxie finally met his eyes. “It is now.”

Now?

“I should get going,” Roxie added hastily, turning on her heels and headed towards the exit. “I promise to swing by in a few days. We can see about grabbing some food then.”

“I’ll see ya ‘round,” Tony bid defeatedly, watching her exit.

Wanting to forget Roxie’s odd behavior in favor of trying not to worry about it, Tony’s focus returned to the counter. He picked up the rag once more and resumed wiping the counter down.

When the bell rang out again a few seconds later, he chuckled to himself. Maybe Roxie had changed her mind and wanted to talk anyway. “Did ya forget somethin’, Roxie?” he called out, not bothering to look up from the counter.

“Lo siento?”

Tony dropped the rag and looked over towards the store entrance.

It wasn’t Roxie standing there, but another young woman instead. The poor girl was just about drenched. Her already dark hair looked darker from the rain and a small puddle of water began to pool at her feet as water droplets fell from the hem of her red dress.

Despite all of this, Tony was taken aback by her beauty. Her face was objectively attractive and her dark eyes seemed to shine a bit as she looked over towards him.

Tony realized he’d been staring for more time than what was socially acceptable when the girl’s curious gaze suddenly shifted. Her head tilted and she gave him a small frown.

“Oh, I uh…” Tony fumbled his words feebly. “Can I help ya with somethin’, miss?”

“¿Hablas español?” she asked carefully, taking a single step further into the store.

“Español?” Tony repeated uncertainty. “... Oh, Spanish?”

The girl smiled and nodded. “Si, si. Spanish.”

Tony cursed internally. “No,” he replied. “But, uh, give me one moment, yeah?”

The girl watched him curiously as he walked back around the counter and headed over to the stairs. “Valentina?” he called down the stairs. “Could ya come up when you have a sec?”

Once Tony heard some incoherent but audible response from Valentina, he turned back around to the girl and gave her a small sheepish smile.

A minute later, Valentina came up the stairs. “Si, what is it, Tony?”

Tony didn’t have to say anything further. Valentina noticed the girl immediately and began to gush over her in Spanish. Tony watched with a small smile as Valentina led the girl over to the counter. Valentina slipped behind it and withdrew a clean towel from a shelf below.

The girl took the towel from Valentina with an appreciative smile. “Gracias,” she said. “Tenía un paraguas, pero se lo llevó el viento.”

Tony continued to stand where he was, watching their exchange.

Valentina raised an eyebrow at him. He was so entranced by the girl that he hadn’t noticed her staring at him for a few moments. “Tony?” she asked pointedly. “Could you get a mop, please?”

Tony snapped out of his daze. “Huh? Oh, yeah.”

Tony mopped away at the puddles pretty poorly for the next few minutes. He was distracted by Valentina and the girl, and kept glancing up at them every minute or so. They spoke exclusively in Spanish, but that only fueled Tony’s curiosity further. Tony watched as Valentina got together a few goods for the girl from nearby shelves before ringing her up at the cash register.

Eventually, Valentina took the towel back from the girl and exchanged it for her personal umbrella that Tony knew she kept stashed underneath the bar.

“Solo trae esto de vuelta en un día soleado,” Valentina instructed the girl as she took the umbrella from her hands. “No hay prisa. Y dile a Anita que dije hola.”

The girl nodded earnestly. With an umbrella in one hand and her paper bag of items in the other, she turned on her heels and headed towards the exit. As she passed him, she gave Tony a small smile, which he readily returned as he leaned on the mop in a carefree stance.

The bell on the front door rang out once again as the girl slipped outside. She opened the umbrella hastily before heading down the sidewalk and eventually disappearing from Tony’s view.

“Are you going to clean, or are you just going to lean?” Valentina called jokingly from behind him.

Tony stood to attention. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Valentina shook her head at him before making her way back around the counter and heading back over towards the stairs.

“Say, Valentina,” Tony said, stopping her before she left the room, “that girl- do you know her?”

Valentina scoffed lightly. “Do you think I know every puertorriqueña in this neighborhood?”

Tony’s hope quickly fled. “No… uh, nevermind. Forget I said somethin’.”

Valentina noticed his change in attitude and took pity on him. “I don’t know her name,” she added after a moment, her tone gentler than before. “I only know of her brother.”

Tony’s brows furrowed as he pondered Valentina’s odd choice of phrasing. Before he could ask her what she meant, Valentina passed him and took a few steps down the stairs. “You better get back to mopping, Romeo,” she called up to him as she disappeared from view.

Tony nodded, though he knew she could not see, and returned to the task at hand. As he continued to mop up the water she had brought in, Tony frequently glanced up at the door every now and then, staring longingly at the door.

Maybe it was another day Tony would be remiss to be spending inside Doc’s.

————————————————————————————

A few light raps to the door riled Riff from his near-sleep trance.

He lifted his head up just enough to look over towards the door and rolled his eyes. He flipped around on the bed laid back down, this time facing the wall. His head was throbbing, and every single muscle in his body ached. He was cold, but couldn’t find the energy in him to climb under the sheets. Riff wasn’t one to let some little cold get him down, but he felt like he’d gone a few rounds solo against several Sharks ten times over.

“Gee-Tar, I’ve already told ya once, I’m fine,” he called tiredly. “Now leave me be so I can die in peace.”

The door opened.

“That doesn’t sound ‘fine’.”

Riff turned back over and sat up once he spotted Roxie slowly making her way into the room. “What’re ya doin’ here?” he asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion.

“Gee-Tar called me,” Roxie answered. “He told me you haven’t gotten out of bed.” She took a step further into the room and immediately frowned as she looked him over. “Riff, are those the same clothes you had on last night?”

Riff plopped back down and his head hit the pillow with a soft thud. He closed his eyes in order to avoid seeing her disappointed look. If only he had had the motivation to crawl under the sheets before she had shown up.

He heard Roxie sigh and take a few more steps across the room to approach the bed. When he finally dared to open his eyes, he saw her looking down at him with her hands on her hips. Though he expected her to be cross with him, the sympathetic look on her face suggested otherwise.

“I’ll be fine, really,” Riff assured her, not wanting to cause her any more concern than he already had. “Don’t know if I’ll be as much help as usual with the books today, but I’ll head downstairs in a few.”

A small frown returned to Roxie’s face. “I’m not worried about the books, Riff.” She carefully reached over and placed a light hand on his forehead. Riff forced himself to keep his eyes open as her cool hand brushed his skin. He wanted to keep up a tough front, even though he had to admit he was touched by her fussing over him. “You’re burning up,” Roxie said decisively as she withdrew her hand a second later. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Riff shook his head and moved to sit up once again. “I’ve got stuff to take care of. The guys need me.”

Roxie placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him firmly back down on the bed.

Riff huffed out a sigh. He could try to argue the point with Roxie, but in his current state of physical fatigue and with her stubbornness, he wasn’t likely to win.

“They need you to not be sick. They’ll be fine without you for one day. I’ll even supervise them for you,” Roxie joked with a small smile. “Everything else can wait.”

Riff sighed once more and settled down further into the bed. “Wait,” he remembered suddenly, sitting up again, “There’s just one thing I gotta do.”

Roxie put a hand on each of his shoulders this time, and forced him to lie back down once more. “I’ll take care of it. What is it?”

Riff eyed Roxie cautiously for a moment. He didn’t want her to know the details of the payment he intended to mail off to the bank, but the money and the late notice were already stuffed away in an envelope. She wouldn’t necessarily know what she’d be doing…

“I got somethin’ that needs to be mailed.”

“Not a problem,” Roxie replied quickly. “I had something I was going to mail today myself.”

“It’s in the second drawer down,” Riff informed her, vaguely pointing in the general direction of the desk. “Could ya…?”

Roxie nodded and walked over to the desk. She quickly found the envelope he referred to, and Riff thanked his past self for having the sense to seal it before he had shoved it back inside the drawer.

“Is this it?” she asked.

Riff nodded. “It needs a stamp, though.”

“Got it. I’ll head over there now,” Roxie announced as she walked back over towards the bed. “In the meantime, get out of those clothes. When I get back, I’ll heat you up the soup I brought.”

“Thank you, Roxie,” Riff said seriously with a small smile. “For everythin’.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied softly, running a light hand through his hair.

Riff fought the urge to close his eyes as the gesture began to lull him back into a sleepy state. But as Roxie continued to look down at him sweetly, a feeling of guilt broke through RIff’s fatigue. “I should’ve listened to ya,” he admitted quietly.

Riff had every intention of doing what Roxie told him to the previous evening and get out of his sopping wet clothes the moment he could. But when he had returned to the shop after dropping her off at her apartment, Baby John was there. He’d gotten into a fight with his ma’s boyfriend and stormed out. He needed a bit of a talking down, but that’s what Riff, Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar were there for. All thoughts of the chills as Riff’s soaked clothes attempted to dry were forgotten in favor of making sure the young Jet was alright. Baby John had ended up crashing in the apartment overnight, and Riff had climbed into his bed without another thought.

“Did something happen with Baby John?” Roxie asked. He must’ve still been downstairs with the rest of the guys when she came in.

Riff nodded. “But he’ll be fine.”

“Good,” she commented sincerely. Then, she smirked and slowly removed her hand from his hair. “Well, I think I can find a way to forgive you if you listen to me today and rest. But first, you need to change out of those clothes.”

Despite his weariness, Riff let out a single laugh. “Alright, doc, I’ll do as ya say. Ya gonna head over to the post office now, or did ya want me to put on a show for ya?”

Roxie shook her head at him, but Riff could tell she was fighting the urge to smile. “I’m leaving,” she quipped. “You are incorrigible.”

“That’s some fancy speech, Doll.”

“Goodbye, Riff.”

Riff didn’t bother to keep his eyes open as Roxie leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before turning and walking away from the bed.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said quietly before slipping out the door.

Not soon enough, Riff thought to himself longingly as he forced himself to fight the tiredness and proceed to sit up and find a change of clothes.

————————————————————————————

The rain hadn’t let up at all. In fact, it only seemed to be coming down more.

But Roxie was determined to make it to the post office a few blocks away as quickly as she was able to. The envelopes in her purse felt like they weighed more than what was physically possible as their importance never strayed too far from her mind.

Her tuition payment was in one. Riff had entrusted her with the other envelope, and although she did not know its contents, that made it no less significant to her. Riff had planned to take it over to the post office himself before he had come down with what Roxie suspected was a fever, and that spoke volumes. However, she doubted it was anything that warranted too much concern. It was likely just payment on one of the loans. Riff had mentioned using his cut from Mr. Barone to make a payment on one of them.

Although Riff had recently insisted on taking loan payments to the post office himself, something Roxie had not bothered to dissuade him from doing, he was unable to do so this time. Instead, Riff had trusted her to mail it off, whatever it was, and Roxie wasn’t going to let him down. Treacherous rain be damned.

Roxie’s umbrella had done an admirable job of keeping her mostly dry, except for her shoes. But that was unavoidable. Regardless, she was thankful, and her luck only encouraged her to walk faster down the sidewalk. Fortunately, there were few people out and about due to the weather, and that seemed to make the trip take even less time.

Finally, Roxie was about a block away from the post office. As she rounded the corner, the sign affixed to the building came into view and she smiled to herself in relief.

When she was just a few yards away from the entrance, a truck passed her on the street. There must’ve been a build up of rainwater on the road, for when the truck passed her, a wave of water flew up and headed straight towards her.

Though stunned, Roxie had enough sense to side step out of the way, avoiding taking most of the hit. However, she realized a moment later that her purse had not been so lucky. She cursed at the sight of her purse, not caring at all if anyone happened to overhear. The purse already looked soaked.

Roxie quickly crossed the few yards that remained between her and the post office’s entrance. She closed her umbrella and leaned it against the outside of the building before hastily entering the lobby.

The room was empty, save for her. A small act of kindness from the universe, given what had just transpired. The last thing Roxie wanted at that moment was for any prying eyes to be taking a look at what she planned to mail.

Roxie walked over to the nearby counter and placed her purse on top of it. It landed on top of the surface with a thud and a small bit of water splashed at the motion. She groaned, opened the purse, and removed the two envelopes inside of it as gingerly as she could. The envelopes were downright soaked and began to disintegrate and waste away at the touch. Roxie cursed again, ignoring the disapproving look of the clerk who waited behind the service window on the very far end of the room.

There was no way either pieces of mail could be sent off in their condition.

Roxie went ahead and removed the money from her envelope and sat the bills on top of the counter. The money would dry, and Roxie could easily purchase another envelope to send it off in.

But there was the issue of the envelope Riff had tasked her with mailing. The ink along the front of it that comprised the mailing addressed was smudged beyond legibility. Even if she bought another envelope, she wouldn’t know where to send it.

Roxie contemplated going back to the shop and getting the information from Riff, but if she could figure it out herself, she preferred to do so. Riff was clearly not well, and Roxie wanted to prevent any further disturbances to him resting.

Though it felt intrusive, Roxie quickly realized that the only option she had left was to check the contents of the envelope. Maybe whatever it was that Riff wanted to mail would have the mailing address listed somewhere. And the longer she debated on whether or not to check, the likelihood of the address getting smudged on a piece of paper inside the envelope only increased as the water continued to soak its contents.

Roxie opened the envelope easily. Though it had been sealed when she retrieved it from the drawer of Riff’s desk, the water saw to it that the glue wouldn’t put up too much of a fight.

Cash was the first thing Roxie noticed. But that wasn’t a surprise, given her suspicions of what Riff wanted to mail.

What was a surprise was a piece of paper that was also enclosed in the envelope. It was folded up behind the stack of cash, towards the back of the envelope.

If there was to be a mailing address on anything, that paper had to be it. She carefully took it out of the envelope, unfolded it, and glanced at it. There was the mailing address at the payment towards the bottom of the page. But there was something else about it…

Though she had never intended to invade Riff’s privacy in such a way, Roxie couldn’t help but be intrigued by the contents of the letter, and soon enough, she found herself reading through the whole thing.

…

So, that was why Riff had been acting so strange the previous morning. He had been telling the truth about the payment that he was going to use the money for. But…

I’ve already gone this far…

Though she began to feel very guilty, it was pushed to the back of her mind as Roxie quickly counted the cash Riff had intended to send with the letter. When Roxie was finished counting, she read the piece of paper he’d included once more. Her eyes scanned the length of the page until she reached the amount listed at the bottom.

There wasn’t enough money.

There was no way it was going to end well. The notice threatened legal action against Riff’s uncle. Given the state of the neighborhood and the increasingly apparent urgency to tear down everything old and replace it with something new and shiny, the bank’s threat seemed pretty credible. And if the bank moved forward with the threat, they’d inevitably move in on the shop and find Riff’s uncle to be absent.

Roxie didn’t want to think about what all that would mean for Riff and the rest of the guys he had taken in. If they were spared an arrest and squating charges, they’d still be out on the streets with nowhere else to go. When Betty eventually moved out, Roxie was sure to get a new roommate. And although she may have been able to get away with sneaking Riff in and out of the apartment without the new roommate discovering his presence, there would be no way Roxie would be able hide Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar as well.

Plus, if Riff didn’t have the shop anymore, there would be nothing left to distract him and the rest of the Jets from the growing tensions with the Sharks. If they truly had nothing left to fight for, what would prevent them from calling a rumble just to put an end to it all? Roxie didn’t feel confident that she’d earned enough of Riff’s trust to be able to talk him out of a rumble just yet.

Even if matters with the Sharks were settled, and if the Jets came out victorious, Riff wouldn’t have anything to show for it. How would he make a living? Roxie still had at least a few more semesters of school left before she could attempt to get a certification and secure an actual teaching position. Plus, the measly pay she earned from the factory was barely enough to make her own ends meet. Trying to provide for both of them would be nearly impossible.

Damn it, Riff.

It was most likely his pride that prevented him from asking for her help. Roxie probably would’ve helped Riff, too, if he had told her what was going on. But now, his pride was going to earn him a swift kick to the streets.

Unless…

Roxie’s eyes slowly trailed from the pile of Riff’s money over to the stack of her own.

…

It would be enough to satisfy the settlement offer from the bank. And if that got settled, Riff and the guys could continue to stay at the shop.

She knew that it would be enough money with absolute certainty. Roxie had taken painstaking care to count all of the money she had several times over to ensure she had enough for the tuition. Besides the small amount she’d earned from the shop and next month’s rent, almost all of the money she’d saved over the summer and what she was given by Mr. Barone was lying right there, just waiting to be spent.

There was just the question of what to spend it on- her tuition, or the auto shop?

What a choice.

She didn’t have to stand there in the lobby for long before the answer came to her.

Riff had enough obstacles to overcome, and Roxie wasn’t going to let him have his own pride be another thing that stood in his way.

Roxie combined both stacks of money and headed over to the clerk across the room to request another envelope and postage.

Once the new envelope and all its contents had been mailed off, Roxie headed back to the auto shop. She paid no mind to her wet shoes or soaking purse that dangled from the crook of her arm as her mind wandered.

She’d done it.

She’d used her money to ensure Riff got to keep the auto shop. Well, at least he’d get to keep it for a little while longer.

Roxie wasn’t necessarily upset or angry with herself that she had made that decision. Two days ago, she had already realized that she would be unable to afford tuition for the upcoming semester. And in the near two days that had passed since, the fact that that was no longer the case had yet to truly sink in. Plus, Roxie knew that at the rate she’d been able to save money, enrolling in classes during the spring semester wouldn’t be a problem at all, barring any major changes in her finances.

Riff would get to stay in the shop for a little while longer, and the bank would be prevented from sniffing around the shop to see what was really going on. Keeping Riff safe and happy was becoming an increasingly important priority for Roxie, and the conclusion she reached and the decision she made satisfied that.

But why had she reached the conclusion so quickly?

Roxie should have taken more time to deliberate. In retrospect, she knew that. Even though the deed was done, and her money, along with Riff’s money, was already well on the way to be delivered to the bank within the next few days, she should’ve thought it through just a little bit more.

She had no idea what she was going to tell Riff when he found out what she’d done. There was little chance he wouldn’t find out at some point. Would he be upset? What would Tony think?

By the time she arrived back at the auto shop, Roxie was internally shaking her head to herself in disbelief and was seriously beginning to doubt her decision. Riff had never asked a whole lot of her, all things considered. He certainly wouldn’t have asked her for money, he made that very clear the morning before.

So why had she done it? Why had she done any of what she’d done for him recently?

Roxie made Riff breakfast the morning before. Now, he was heading back to the auto shop with a plan to heat up some soup for Riff and keep an eye on him so that he didn’t make himself any more sick. And she had just temporarily postponed her future in order to make sure Riff didn’t lose the best possible shot he had at making a better life for himself.

Why?

Roxie knew she didn’t have to do any of those things for any man, even Riff.

But she did them anyway. And Roxie had done it all without a second thought because it was Riff.

Because Roxie loved him.

…

She loved him.

Roxie had thought she loved Riff before, back when they were together the first time around. It had dawned on her in the aftermath of the rumble with the Emeralds. Riff, like many of the others, did not make it out of the fight clean or unscathed. He still had the scar under his right eye to prove it. Though his wounds were never a true danger to his life, the experience still shook Roxie up all the same.

The run in with Mr. Barone just a few days before had shaken her up even more. Roxie feared more for Riff in those moments in that alleyway than she had watching him fight off the urge to limp back after the rumble with the Emeralds or any other fight or skirmish he had ever gotten himself into. Though Riff would have no physical scars from the encounter with Mr. Barone to remind her of what had happened, she knew that it had affected her deeply all the same.

And now, given everything the two of them had been through, Roxie knew why. It was love.

Though it made sense, the realization was shocking. Maybe their time apart hadn’t erased what she felt for him after all.

Roxie debated with herself whether Riff should know. What if he was receptive? It would change everything.

But what if Riff wasn’t receptive to the idea at all? If Roxie told him the truth about the extent of her feelings too soon, she ran the risk of running Riff off entirely. She knew from past experience that emotional talks were not his forte. Unlike most other things in life, Riff tended to walk away from those situations than face them head on. There’d be no chance of talking Riff out of a rumble with the Sharks if he wasn’t even willing to talk to Roxie at all.

She had to be careful around Riff from here on out, just in case.

Roxie entered the auto shop and merely nodded in response as Diesel, Snowboy, Gee-Tar, and Baby John greeted her once again. They didn’t notice her suddenly meek composure that resulted from her attempt to conceal her life-altering realization as she immediately headed up the stairs and entered the apartment quietly.

First, check on Riff. Second, get to the soup.

Roxie opened the bedroom door as quietly as she could and found Riff still laying in bed. However, she noted that he had at least done what she asked and had changed his clothes.

Riff was lying on his side facing the door. As Roxie entered the room, he opened his eyes and gave her a smile that erased any doubt she had about whether she had made the right decision at the post office.

“I thought you would be sleeping,” she admitted.

He smiled. “Just wanted to make sure you were comin’ back.”

Riff was going to go on the mend. Roxie would see to it.

Riff was going to have a fighting chance to keep the shop and make something of himself. And she loved him.

————————————————————————————

Though Riff was only stuck in bed one day, a small chill seemed to linger in his bones throughout the following week. Fortunately, Riff was finally starting to feel like his old self again just in time for his next date night with Roxie.

Neither of them had brought up the idea of going back to the diner, regardless that Mr. Barone had assured them that they wouldn’t see him again, as long as they did as he asked. Riff wasn’t sure if they would keep away from their diner forever, but the thought of already returning there seemed too soon.

Without a specific destination or activity in mind, Roxie told Riff she would meet him at the shop in the evening. Riff didn’t mind the lack of a specific plan for their date. As far as he was concerned, any time spent with Roxie was time well spent.

Riff shut the hood of the sedan he’d been working on and tried to wipe oil off his hands with a nearby rag when the apartment door opened on the landing upstairs.

“Snowboy already leave?” Diesel called out to him as he shut the door behind him and began to walk down the stairs. Diesel had gone up to the apartment about half an hour before to try and remove oil that had found a way into his hair. Diesel’s hair still looked pretty damp, but at least Riff couldn’t see any obvious black splotches.

Riff nodded his head towards the open garage door. “Left ‘bout a minute ago.”

“Shit,” Diesel murmured. “Last thing I need is for him to show up at Velma’s apartment to pick up Gussie before I even get there. Velma’s ol’ man will never let me hear the end of it.”

Riff smiled, though he felt sympathetic for Diesel. It seemed that Velma was on some kick with group dates lately. Apparently, Velma planned to drag Diesel along on a group date with Gussie and Snowboy.. However, Riff wasn’t that miffed about him and Roxie not getting an invite this time around. After the way the last group date he’d been on had ended, he had more than his fill of them.

“Ya better get goin’, then,” Riff suggested.

“Shouldn’t you be gettin’ a move on yourself, Boss?” Diesel asked. He looked Riff up and down, noting the oil that still stained Riff’s hands and the matching stains on his shirt and jeans. When he was done, Diesel smirked suggestively. “Or does Roxie dig that kind of look on ya?”

If anyone else had made such a comment about Roxie, Riff might’ve had a mind to set them straight with a quick right hook to the jaw. But since it was Diesel, he settled for giving him a light punch on the arm instead.

Diesel chuckled and rubbed his arm jokingly. “Forget I said anythin’. I best go before Velmas shows up and drags me out herself.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Riff teased, though he knew from Diesel that Velma’s anger was not one that should be joked about. “Shut the door behind ya, will you?”

Riff threw the rag he had been attempting to use to wipe the oil off his hands onto the workbench as Diesel exited the garage with a quick wave and closed the garage door behind him. Then, Riff headed upstairs and entered the apartment.

By the time Riff had changed his clothes and finally gotten the oil off his hands after vicariously scrubbing them in the bathroom sink, a good chunk of time had passed. He realized Roxie would be arriving at the shop any minute, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting on the shop floor for too long.

Riff nearly jumped out of his skin when he exited the bathroom and found Gee-Tar eating a slice of bread in the kitchen.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Riff asked. Gee-Tar had left earlier in the afternoon to hang with Big Deal, Balkan, and A-Rab doing who knows what. Riff had only asked them to try not to cause any trouble. Riff had plans that he intended on keeping that evening, and he would not have been too keen to bail them out of whatever mess they made for themselves. However, the fact that Gee-Tar was standing in the kitchen looking relatively normal was a good sign that they had done as he had requested.

Gee-Tar swallowed the bite of bread he was in the middle of. “Got a date tonight. Needed a bite to eat first.”

Seems like it’s date night for everyone. “Oh, yeah? Who’s the lucky gal?”

Gee-Tar smiled bashfully “I gotta get goin’.”

Riff nodded and let Gee-Tar’s failure to answer his question slide. If Gee-Tar wanted to keep the lady’s identity a secret, fine by him. Riff had been through enough drama recently to last him a lifetime. He didn’t care to add Gee-Tar’s dating escapades to that list, even if Gee-Tar was a fellow Jet.

Gee-Tar walked past Riff and headed towards the front door. “I grabbed the mail on the way in, it’s over there, by the bread.”

Riff rolled his eyes. “Thanks. Do your best to keep quiet comin’ in tonight, will ya?”

The last time Gee-Tar had come in late at night, he had tripped over something and woken Diesel and Snowboy up. Even Riff had been yanked from sleep. When he ducked his head out of the bedroom and to look into the living room, he saw Diesel and Snowboy throwing pillows at Gee-Tar for disturbing their slumber.

The apartment door shut firmly and Riff could only hope that Gee-Tar had heard him. Then, he turned to face the counter in reference. Sure enough, right by the bread that Gee-Tar had barely managed to close the packaging on, was a single envelope.

Riff had been waiting impatiently all week for some sort of acknowledgement of the money that was mailed the week before. Even if it wasn’t the exact amount the settlement offer had listed, he figured the bank was likely to send him some sort of follow up correspondence. Riff trusted Roxie to mail off the money for him, but the whole thing still made him a bit anxious. Looking back on it, he wondered whether he should have protested a bit more and actually taken the envelope down to the post office himself. Just over a week had passed since it was all mailed off, but Riff made sure to go through his uncle’s mail every day, vigilantly waiting for a response.

When Riff approached the counter and read the return address on the envelope laying there, his heart stopped.

It looked like the response from the bank he’d been waiting for.

Riff glanced at the apartment door. He knew Roxie would be arriving at any time, but how long would reading the letter take?

Riff headed to his bedroom hastily. As far as he knew, he would be the only one left in the shop, but any of the guys could come back at any moment, and Riff wanted to make sure they didn’t catch a glimpse of what the letter said before he had a chance to read it himself.

Once the bedroom door was cracked behind him, Riff wasted no time ripping open the envelope and yanking out the letter. He braced himself as his eyes began to scan over its contents.

“Dear Mr. Edward Lorton,

This correspondence serves as notice of our receipt of the full settlement payment for the balance on your account as indicated in the previous correspondence that was mailed to you.

We thank you for your prompt action in order to resolve this issue. As a courtesy in light of your quick response, we have extended the due date of your next regularly scheduled payment by one month. Please note that your monthly payment, the amount of which is as indicated in your contract, will be due on Monday, September 30, 1957.

If you have any further questions regarding the status of your account or the balance of your account, please inquire further at the address listed below…”

Riff stared at the paper he held firmly in his right hand, though he was no longer reading it.

It didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t sent them nearly enough money. Was the bank really that desperate for some sort of payment that they were willing to write that much off?

Riff stood there staring at the letter and running through all the possibilities in his mind for several long minutes. He heard the apartment door open and close faintly in the distance, but remained where he stood.

“Riff, are you in here?” Roxie called out.

Hearing her voice caused the realization to smack him right upside the head.

She did it.

“Hello?”

“Bedroom,” Riff called out simply, keeping his tone neutral.

He heard footsteps approach and a moment later the door opened fully. He glanced at Roxie as she entered the room, and she smiled upon seeing him. Even though she was dressed in a blue dress that looked stunning on her, that would not be enough for Riff to forget what he had just learned or deter him from addressing it with her.

“Gee-Tar let me in,” Roxie answered his unasked question as she shut the door behind her.

“Great,” Riff replied dryly, his eyes falling back on the letter in his hand.

“... What’re you reading?”

Riff ignored her question. “What was it that ya said you needed to mail out last week?”

“What?”

“Last week,” Riff prompted. “When I was sick, and ya said you’d mail off that thing for me. Ya said you had something to mail, too. What was it?”

Roxie was obviously taken aback, and that’s when Riff knew that she was catching on to what he was getting at. “It was my tuition for this next semester,” she replied evenly. “I already told you that’s what I was going to do with my cut.”

“So, ya mailed it out, then?” Riff countered. “Roxie, tell me that ya mailed in your money for your tuition.”

Roxie crossed her arms and looked at him carefully. “... Do you want me to tell you that, or do you want me to tell you the truth?”

“Roxie.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with what’s in your hand, would it?”

Riff held out the letter to her with a quick flourish. Roxie grabbed it from his hand just as quickly and began to read it. Riff watched in silence as Roxie read through the letter. When she was done reading, her expression sombered, and she looked up at him once again with wide eyes.

“Riff, I-”

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” Riff demanded, taking care to not raise his voice, but also not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Why didn’t ya tell me you used your money to cover what I didn’t have?”

“I couldn’t,” Roxie answered simply. “You wouldn’t have let me do it if you knew.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t have,” Riff agreed. “So why’d ya do it at all?”

“Because you need the shop.”

“And you need to have a future, with or without me ‘round. You need to go back to school!”

“I will in the spring. I’ll have plenty of money saved by then,” Roxie countered. It was clear by this point that she was getting just as frustrated as he was. “And have you considered the fact that my future is tied to yours? We’re in this together, remember? I want what’s best for you anyways, but even if I didn’t, I’d only be hurting myself by standing by and watching you make a mistake that I could’ve prevented.”

“You don’t get it!” Riff snapped angrily. “I made ya leave this neighborhood before. And by you making this decision for me, it feels like I’m forcin’ you to stay here now.”

Roxie’s angry expression immediately fell at his words. “I know you’re not,” she disagreed quietly. “It was my choice.”

“Well, that’s what it feels like,” Riff admitted exasperatedly, the volume of his voice falling rapidly as well. He sighed, and took another moment to calm down. “… I didn’t ask ya to do this, Roxie.”

“You didn’t, and I know you never would,” Roxie acknowledged solemnly.

“And yet ya still did it?”

“Yes.“

“Why?!”

“Because I love you.”

…

Riff wasn’t quite sure if he heard her correctly.

“… What?”

Roxie ignored his question. “How could I stand by and not help you when I had the chance?” she implored. “I know you support me going back to school. I wanted you to know I support what you’re trying to do here with the shop. It’s probably the best thing you have going for you, and I couldn’t let you just lose it. Because I love you.”

There were those words again. If Riff wasn’t sure about whether he heard her correctly the first time, he was now.

Hearing those words from her changed everything. Hearing those words extinguished any flames of anger that remained in him. Riff knew he was still likely to feel disappointed by what she had done, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He had finally heard the words he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear from her, and his heart lurched.

The energy in the room shifted.

“Roxie… you’re wrong.”

Roxie did a double take and she frowned at him out of confusion. “…. I’m sorry?!”

“The shop ain’t the best thing I got goin’ for me,” Riff corrected her patiently.

“It’s not?“ Roxie asked.

“No,” Riff confirmed, shaking his head for emphasis. He took a step towards her to close the distance between them. Much to his relief, Roxie did not take a step away from him, and she remained where she stood. “It’s you.”

Riff lightly put his hands on the side of her face and gently tilted her head upwards to look at him. Roxie had an uncertain look on her face, but her eyes never left his as she waited for him to continue.

“I love you, too.”

Roxie’s eyes widened. The confession left Riff feeling vulnerable under her gaze, and he didn’t care for it all.

Fortunately, Roxie was not one to leave him hanging. She stood up on her toes to close the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

Riff smiled into the kiss and his hands fell from her face to wrap around her waist. He felt her hands come up to rest behind his neck as she kept his face close to hers as possible.

The energy in the room shifted once again as the kiss got heated very quickly.

Although he was reluctant to do so, Riff pulled back, finally breaking the kiss. Roxie attempted to kiss him once again, but he kept his reserve and remained out of her reach. “It’s probably gettin’ late,” he offered awkwardly as an explanation. “... We better get goin’ if ya still wanted to go out.”

Roxie shook her head and removed her hands from behind his neck. “I’m fine staying in.” The palms of her hand came to rest flat on his chest, and Riff was certain she could feel his heart racing. “I just want to be with you.”

Roxie’s words were innocent enough, but the desirous look on her eyes indicated something else.

Though it was subtle, her suggestion did not go over Riff’s head. He felt warmer just at the thought of it, but he needed to be sure. “We don’t have to do nothin’,” he told her plainly. “Just ‘cause I said what I said don’t mean ya owe me somethin’. We can sit here and stare at the wall all night, I don’t care.”

Roxie tilted her head thoughtfully as she considered his words. “Say it again.”

Riff didn’t have to ask what she meant. “I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Roxie reassured him with a bright smile.

Riff sighed softly, and he looked deeply into her eyes. “But do ya really wanna do this?”

Roxie responded by fiddling with the hem of his shirt as she stood up and started to kiss his neck, just below his ear. Her cool fingers brushed against his skin and Riff had to fight to keep himself composed.

Riff leaned back away from her affections, and when he did, he heard her let out a small frustrated huff. He looked down at the floor just behind her, worried about what he might see in her eyes after his next words. “I need to hear ya say it, Roxie.”

Roxie put light fingers on his chin and forced her to look at him. He didn’t fight her. “I want this,” she swore, and Riff believed her full heartedly. “I want you, Riff.”

Riff tried to ignore the fluttering in his chest at her words.

“Do you want this?” Roxie asked him then, sounding a bit uncertain herself.

In response to her question, Riff gave Roxie a chaste kiss on the lips before turning his attention to one of her shoulders. He slowly slid the strap of her dress down her arm, fully exposing it to his view. His eyes met hers once again, and they locked with hers as much as was possible as he leaned down and pressed light kisses along her exposed collarbone.

“Yes... yes... and yes,” he whispered between kisses, feeling one of her hand’s come up to tangle in his hair while the other still lingered near the bottom of his shirt.

Riff pulled back suddenly. Before Roxie could protest, he lifted his shirt up and off of him. After the garment was off, he threw it blindly across the room as Roxie’s fingers began to run over his bare chest.

Riff smiled and kissed her once again. He was so lost in the moment, he didn’t notice that Roxie had turned him around. She grabbed his hands and eagerly began to lead him over towards the bed. Once they reached it, their legs buckled upon contact and the two of them fell upon the mattress with a soft thud. Riff was taken by surprise, but he managed to catch himself on his hands before he completely fell on top of Roxie.

She gave him a mischievous smirk. Her hair was splayed out wildly around her head, and Riff couldn’t help but smile down at her in amusement.

“Are ya sure sure, Roxie?” Riff asked once again, though his tone was lighter and more playful than before.

Riff let out a laugh as Roxie placed her hands around her neck and forced him down to her level. His arms, which were bent awkwardly, nearly screamed in protest, but Riff paid them no mind. Their faces were close and their noses brushed up against each other as one more moment of silence passed between them.

“Less talking, more kissing,” Roxie demanded.

Riff smiled, and he leaned down to capture her lips with his once again.

The chill in Riff’s bones he’d been feeling for the past week melted as their evening commenced.

A/N: Because explicit consent is 🔥🔥🔥 Thank you for reading! 😊 Please feel free to interact if you enjoyed. If you would like to be added to the taglist, please feel free to let me know. The tentative posting date for the next part is Tuesday, April 5. I will post an update if it becomes necessary. UPDATE 4/1: Part 18 status post can be found here.

Taglist: @whisperofsong @disguisedbassethound @lingerasthesmokeoncedid @westsidelegendary @sallymakesstuff @youngteenagehearts @wombtotombx @loverisi @wnygirl2012 @b-bella9 @princessmiaelicia @childesbbyy @amberash05 @robin-jackkelly @eatslothsat @mikefaistgf @acciosiriusblack @jaemsslut4

Part 18

Masterlist

#west side story #west side story 2021 #wss #wss 2021 #west side story fanfiction #west side story fanfic #west side story riff #riff west side story #wss riff #riff fanfiction #riff fanfic #riff imagine #slowburn #slow burn #angst #oc jet #west side story riff x oc #mike faist

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rhysanoodle · 3 years ago

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Between Light and Shadow

(Banner by the lovely @sncinder 💕)

Elriel’s story after ACOSF

Happy Elriel Month, lovelies! ❤️

Word Count: 2477

AO3

Chapter 31

Elain raised the biscuit to his mouth, and Azriel took a bite, the buttery cookie crumbling in his mouth, the chocolate melting beneath his tongue. He chewed slowly, cautiously, unsure how exactly this would manifest but savoring the experience nonetheless.

As he swallowed, he felt it. The warm tug in his abdomen tightening, a shower of gold annihilating his senses as he began to feel her. He took another bite, and another—each bit passing his lips strengthening the pull of her until he had consumed the entire thing.

It was then that he felt the burning hunger.

Azriel had thought that he needed Elain before, but it had never been this primal, this urgent. And through the bond, he could feel his own feelings mirrored in her. It was heady to feel such desire in return for him.

One could always tell from scents and other physical symptoms, but this was on another level entirely. The gravity between them was palpable, two large moons about to collide in the sweetest embrace.

“You’re my mate.” It was the first time he’d allowed himself to voice it aloud, the first time he’d dared.

“And you’re mine,” she murmured, her heady voice eating away at the core of him as his already erect cock stiffened even further. He was going to need to learn how to control that. Because, Cauldron, if this was his physical reaction to merely being in her presence now, they weren’t going to get a lot done. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

She cocked her head at him, eyes darting to the evidence in his pants, and it was his undoing. He pounced, nearly knocking the remaining cookies off the counter as he pressed her against it.

“Azriel,” she groaned as he ground against her, lips already frantically pecking at her neck. He was unhinged, completely and thoroughly unraveled with need for her. His mate. His gift from the Cauldron. It was unbearable to be so close and yet so far.

“Bed,” she insisted, and he realized he had never taken her there. They’d fucked all over this house, but he’d never given either of them that bit of normalcy. And even though he preferred to be in control, he obliged her, winnowing upstairs to the room she had resided in back when she’d lived in the townhouse.

But he wouldn’t give her the bed. Not yet. Azriel led Elain to the chair. They would still be doing this his way, and it would be the most beautiful torture for both of them. This was going to be an exercise in restraint for him as well—just in a different way. Shadows wrapped around her wrists and ankles, binding them to the armrests and chair leg.

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

“I said bed,” Elain protested, causing Azriel to grip her chin and force her to look at him. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to get his point across. He still wanted to play with her before he took her. She was starting to get an impression of how her mate worked—how he craved control in the bedroom.

“You’ll have to earn it, love,” he crooned, causing Elain to fake a pout. She would play his games as long as ...

“Then I get to take you how I want to,” she demanded, with more bravado than she felt. He was still completely in control of the situation, but she trusted him.

And Azriel trusted her too. “Deal.”

Darkness fell across her face, and she felt the familiar barrier of his shadow blindfold. Shadows tickled up the insides of her thighs, wriggling their way up her dress until they were caressing her in the most sensual of ways. The cool sensations were a direct foil to how she heated for him, her sex desperate for him but only given to wiggling against the bottom of the chair.

“The safe word’s porpoise,” he breathed in her ear, causing Elain to realize that he had moved behind her. She didn’t have time to wonder why he chose to use the name of the squealing aquatic mammals living off the coast before he had swept the loose hair off the back of her neck, his hot breath causing gooseflesh to rise around it as he kissed the length of her collar bone.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured against her skin. “I promise you that everything I’m about to do is perfectly safe, but if you want me to stop for any reason, you know what to do, right?”

She nodded her ascent at the same time she let out an involuntary moan. He had just bitten the tender skin of her throat before kissing over it and moving away from her.

No—not away. But now he was kneeling before her, and she could feel his hands sliding up her thighs, the skin already primed from his shadows, and Elain squirmed in her seat but knew better than to demand that he take her right then. He would only delay them even further out of obstinance.

Instead of hooking on her undergarments like she wanted though, his hand paused at the sheath strapped to her thigh, where she wielded Truth-Teller.

Elain heard the soft whisper of the blade being pulled free before the icy-cold metal plane of the blade struck her thigh, causing her to curse in surprise.

Azriel paused, and once she had regained her bearings, Truth-Teller slithered down her leg, a viper coil to strike. But strike where, she did not know.

“Where should I start?” Azriel purred.

“Your exquisite thighs?” A flourish before his hand pulled out of her skirts.

“Your supple breasts?” The edge traced the underside of her bosom, slicing neatly through the fabric but nothing else.

“Your perfect neck?” The flat of the blade found her collar bone, and Elain shuddered beneath him, wriggling to break free of her bonds. She suddenly didn’t care about their agreement. The inferno in her sex needed kindling, and he was all that would do.

“None of that,” Azriel tutted. “We are dancing on a knife’s edge, love. You need to yield to me completely.”

Elain melted. She was loath to admit it, but he was right. He was a master with the blade, and though she trusted him to wield it, she might accidentally hurt herself by moving about.

Cauldron, he was going to be the death of her though. “I need you,” she pleaded, letting him in on the magnitude of her desire.

“I know,” Azriel whispered in her ear. “But you have to earn it. You know the rules.” She did, but that didn’t make it any easier. Not with cold blade and hot breath mingling in exquisite torture across her skin. Not when she hadn’t gotten to feel him inside her for weeks. Not when their mating bond was ringing loud and clear between them, amplifying every ache for him.

If only she had use of her hands, she could—

Azriel chuckled wickedly. “You’re not allowed to get yourself off either. That will be my pleasure.”

Truth-Teller snaked down her front, cold air assaulting her skin and peaking her nipples as the front of her dress was sliced clean in two, revealing her fully to him.

Elain’s breathing hitched as Azriel straddled her on the chair, his mouth lavishing on her nipple while the tip of the blade scraped along the side of her breast. The pain was tantalizing—not quite enough pressure being applied to break skin, but enough for her to feel the sting and to know with certainty that if she moved a millimeter, that might change.

It kept her still and compliant, only allowing the faintest of moans to escape her lips as he worked—a master through and through.

He mirrored his actions on the other side, the most exquisite, beautiful pain unleashing something within her as she clenched around nothing, desperate for relief.

“You like that?” he growled. “You like the feel of my blade against your skin? You like riding that edge?” He pulled away enough that Elain felt comfortable letting out a panting breath, the scrapes left behind by the knife already having healed over thanks to her Fae blood.

“Yes,” she admitted between pants. And she found it to be true. She knew he would never hurt her, but the small tinge of fear at having the blade so near combined with the trickle of pain and his pleasuring of her might have become her new favorite combination.

“Shall I continue?” Azriel slid down her front until he was kneeling between her legs. He kissed Elain right at the apex between her thighs, and she leaned into it, silently begging for his tongue to annihilate her.

“Answer, love.”

“Please,” she begged.

“There we are,” Azriel murmured, immediately rewarding her by kissing up her thighs, a sweeping heat flushing through her abdomen as he approached … And then retreated, repeating the motion on the other side. And when he was done, she felt the sting of the blade, languidly tracing his kisses. It scraped its way toward her sex, leaving her riding in anticipation of how far he would take it.

Elain let out a soft groan as it hit the edge of her lips, pausing there for a moment before he replaced it with a kiss. It set her ablaze.

“Azriel,” she croaked, barely able to form a comprehensible word as her world burned and burned.

“Yes, love?” She still shivered every time he called her that, but she didn’t get a chance to respond before ever-thoroughly he had Truth-Teller lazily climbing her other thigh. Every conscious thought fled her head as she focused on the knife.

It inched ever closer to her, a wicked promise.

And when it reached its destination, this time she felt the cold flat of the blade press directly against the core of her. It was an effort not to lean into the touch, knowing that any slip might slice her thighs, but it held there.

“I knew you loved my blade,” Azriel growled as he pulled it away, sheathing Truth-Teller in the holster on her thigh. “Look how wet you are for it. For me.” A finger plunged inside her, and Elain swore, clenching around it for dear life.

His other arm grabbed her backside, scooting her until she was perched on the edge of the chair. His finger continued its plundering, and his lips took her clit, suckling as Elain saw stars behind her eyelids.

He grazed it with his teeth as he added another finger, hooking them in just the right place that had her exploding uncontrollably for him, the moans completely unrestrained as she let him know just what he was doing to her—how much she loved how he worshiped her body.

He didn’t let up, guiding her through her orgasm but only slowing enough for her to recover before increasing his pace again.

Elain, already riding the knife’s edge, felt an even deeper burning ember in her core. It sparked almost immediately, as she rode the wave to completion once again, the sweet heat filling her from the inside out.

“My turn,” she gasped out when Azriel showed no signs of letting up. He had to be about to explode in his own pants, and she wanted to be the one to make that happen for him.

His tongue and fingers slowed, only grazing with languid, taunting strokes. “I mean it, Azriel. Bed. Now.”

Her restraints disappeared, and she caught a cocky grin on her mate’s face before she stood on shaky legs and pushed him down onto the sheets.

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

It had been an exercise in willpower to hold onto his own release at the noises Elain had made—at the taste of her sweet pussy coating his tongue. But he had held out, even though he could feel how the danger of playing with Truth-Teller—even dulled by his magic as it had been—ignited something within her.

He had carved up enemies with this blade, but never caressed a lover. She was the only one who had touched this blade and lived to tell the tale. She always would be. The thought had his balls aching even harder as she straddled him on top of the bed.

No one had ever taken him like this before. He always maintained control. Always. But there was something freeing about letting his mate take control from him. For allowing them to be equals—as fate had deemed them.

Her flushed face gazed down at him lovingly, a curtain of hair spilling over one shoulder as she mounted him, slipping over him as easily as breathing.

It took all of Azriel’s strength of self to hold on, the tight silk of her pressing in on all sides felt glorious around his cock.

Placing her hands on his chest, she began to move on him, slowly pulling out until the tip was only hanging on by a thread before lowering herself once more. Each thrust was more of an undoing as Azriel grabbed her ass, helping to guide her as she rode him.

“I love you, Azriel,” she breathed between pumps, and he swore he could practically see the bond between them, growing and glowing as she closed her eyes and thrust her head back, those unraveling little moans sending him over the edge. It was everything he’d ever needed and more.

And maybe this kind of sex was something he could actually stomach now, with her holding him through it.

After he came inside her, they laid there for minutes. “Did you ever expect anything like this?” she asked him.

“Never,” he dared to admit. “But I’m so glad I have this. That it’s with you.” He would love her until he was no more than a shadow himself, a wisp floating on the night air. She was his everything.

“Me neither. I don’t think I ever allowed myself to dream of loving a mate. It all seemed so primal and controlling, but with you, it’s easy.”

Easy.

Nothing had ever been easy for him before now. But it fit. She fit perfectly, the missing puzzle piece he’d searched centuries for.

“It can still be primal,” he growled in a way that had her giggling as he nipped at her throat. Just the sight of her naked form next to him had him becoming erect again. He’d heard a fresh bond made males into sex-addled dimwits, but he hadn’t quite imagined how lost he would be for her now.

And as his kisses deepened, he could scent her readying herself for him again.

“Come here,” he growled, flipping her so she was facedown, bent over the edge of the mattress. Oh, he was going to have fun playing out his fantasies with her for as long as they could remain sequestered here. So much fun.

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

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drspencerweed · 3 years ago

Text

Dear Spence - Night 2

spencer reid x fem!reader

series masterlist

masterlist

fic summary: Going undercover as serial killer bait was simple. Going undercover as serial killer bait three months after being kidnapped was not so simple. Going undercover with the love of my life and having to pretend to be in love with him while also pretending I was pretending was….well it was about as complicated as it sounds.

chapter summary: If nothing else, Spencer and I were best friends first.

Chapter Word Count: 2.3k

Content: Rated M (16+) fem!reader, mentions of past kidnapping, trauma responses, nightmares, descriptions of past kidnapping, canon-typical violence, fake relationship, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, only one bed trope

tw for this chapter: mentions of past kidnapping, descriptions of a panic attack

read on ao3

[Prologue] [Night 1]

I stared at the book on my nightstand. Once Spencer had finished it he had given it to me, filled with his notes and thoughts. He wanted me to see his reactions to one of my favorite books. Earlier that day he was reading, and I leaned over the couch from behind him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my chin on his shoulder. I was trying to initiate contact more, because the first day I had let Spencer take the lead. I thought not initiating would help, but it just left me confused at his intentions. He was such a good actor I believed it was real, sometimes. But if I initiated, then I knew exactly what was happening.

“What’re you reading?” I’d asked, letting my eyes scan over the book, quickly realizing it was familiar. “Why are you reading Perks of Being a Wallflower?”

Spencer turned his head to look at me, our faces incredibly close. He grinned at me, “Because I know it’s your favorite.”

“I haven’t seen you read a fiction novel in ages,” I commented. He went to correct me, but I corrected myself. “An English fiction novel.”

He chuckled. “I guess that’s true. But you talk about this one all the time, I figured it was about time I actually understood what you said.”

I was overwhelmed with the love that I held for this man, and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, I leaned in to kiss him first. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it, kissing me back sweetly and raising a hand to my cheek to hold me in place. “I love you.” I admitted as I pulled away. It felt so much like a confession, but I knew he wouldn’t read too much into it.

He had simply smiled and kissed me again, before returning to his reading. An hour or so later, he came up to me and held the book out. “I took my time with it, and wrote some notes. If you were interested in taking a look? And then we can talk and compare thoughts?”

The gesture touched my heart so much I nearly began to tear up. I took the book from him gently, nodding and smiling. “That sounds amazing.”

And now it was just before bed, and he was getting ready in the bathroom, and all I could do was stare at the book in front of me.

I got into bed and stared at it some more, before finally picking it up and beginning to read. If I started tonight, I would be done by tomorrow night. I didn’t read as fast as Spencer (no one did) but I had read it a thousand times over and it wasn’t a very long book. His cramped notes and shaky underlines made me devour it, and I was three chapters deep by the time Spencer emerged from the bathroom, slightly damp and still flushed from his shower.

He smiled when he noticed the book in my hands. “Is anything I had to say interesting?”

“Very! I can’t wait to talk once I’m done. I’m hoping to get a good deal finished before bed and then finish the rest during the day tomorrow,” I explained as Spencer walked over and climbed into bed next to me. He had grabbed a different book out of his bag, one I had seen a few times before, his copy of War and Peace, of course in the original Russian. “Now that seems more your speed.”

He chuckled as he looked at the book in his hand. “It’s a classic. And I can’t only read books you like.”

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry I can’t read the books you like.”

He just smirked. “I mean if you ever wanted to learn Russian...”

“I’m crap at languages, you know this. But maybe someday I’ll read it in English.” I turned to go back to my reading, but he put his book down on the bed and turned to face me more fully. Letting my eyes meet his, I put my book down to give him my attention again. “What?”

He sighed and looked down at the duvet, picking at a thread. “I just- well, I was thinking a lot today about what you said last night. About the last time you were caught by an UnSub.” My breath caught in my chest, mind racing with ideas of where he could be going with this. “And I guess, I just wanted to ask how you’re doing. And apologize for not asking sooner.”

I looked in his eyes, and saw how concerned and sincere he was. Something in my walls cracked. The way he looked at me was so similar to how he looked at me outside this room, when we were pretending to be in love. The lines were so blurred, I had to stop myself from leaning in and kissing him in response. My eyes filled with tears before I could stop it, and I quickly looked away but I knew he had already seen.

“I-I’m fine.” I choked out. Spencer reached a hand and grasped my own.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

My eyes were glued to where our hands were linked together, tears filling them again as his thumb stroked the back of my hand. The fears about getting kidnapped had certainly been lingering in my mind, even if I had distracted myself with being heartbroken. “Sometimes I think about what it was like, being there. I used to think I understood the victims. Now I- Now I know what it was like. And I wasn’t even- it wasn’t even that long.” I confessed, laughing a little at the end. Spencer squeezed my hand, and I looked up to him. A tear or two escaped as I blinked.

“Please don’t diminish what you went through like that. Any second being kidnapped is too long,” he stated seriously. I clenched my teeth in an effort not to cry. His other hand reached up and swiped away a tear with his thumb. “If you need to abort this mission, we can.”

I shook my head immediately. “He’s listening to us already. If we abort, he’ll go into hiding. And I won’t let him get away.”

Spencer sighed as he dropped his hand from my cheek, bringing it to hold my own in both of his. “Hotch should never have asked you to do this so soon. I could’ve done this with Emily, or JJ-“

“No!” I exclaimed, the thought of him spending a week kissing and loving someone else struck me to my core. But my quick and visceral reaction did not go unnoticed by Spencer. He quirked an eyebrow at me. Shaking my head, I pressed on with a fake excuse. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m incapable. If Hotch thinks I’m the best person for the job then I’m the best person for the job.”

Spencer nodded. I blinked back more tears, trying not to break down farther than I had already. I rarely let myself cry in front of other people, and especially not Spencer. Now I had cried in front of two different people within a week. What was happening to me?

The tears started falling faster, my brain racing as I imagined being back in that cold basement. Not thinking about it only ever lasted for so long. In an instant I was back there; the cold metal of a gun pressed into the back of my neck, the harsh feeling of the wooden chair underneath me, the mildewy scent, the sound of water dripping every few seconds. If I closed my eyes I was under the harsh red light, penning my letter. The water was dripping. I could hear it in the corner, the constant drip. My hands came up to my ears and I squeezed my eyes shut. Drip, drip. I could hear it even with my ears covered, I could hear everything, I could feel it all, I was there again, he was behind me, I had to get out, I had to run, someone had to come get me right now.

The water just kept dripping. Drip, drip.

My breathing was rapid and I shook my head back and forth. “Sometimes I just wish I could forget.” I whispered through gritted teeth, letting the tears take over me. Spencer’s hand brushed my own and it made me jolt, still back there, in that room. But it forced my eyes open and I met his and all I saw was concern and anguish on my behalf.

His face hurled me back into reality. I wasn’t there, I was here. But it felt like I had been there all over again.

My knees came up against my chest as I wracked with sobs. Memories flashed through my mind, the moments before I was attacked from behind, the moment I woke up. The worst memories were of his voice. He had taunted me, poked me with the gun while I scratched out my last words. I could still hear him whisper “Spence? Is that your boyfriend? Bet he’s missing you real bad right now.” He would sing the last line, taunting me. “He’s never gonna find you.”

I began shaking my head back and forth again, trying to get his voice out of my ears. Before the panic could fully set in, Spencer’s arms wrapped around my body, pulling me closer to him. “Hey, hey. You’re alright. You’re safe. Take a deep breath, count with me. In two three four, out two three four.” He whispered in my ear, his voice replacing the horrible one running through my head.

The feeling of his arms wrapped around me reminded me of the best moment that day, the moment I was saved. He had been the first one in the room. When I heard them break into the house, I folded my letter quickly and stuffed it down my shirt while the UnSub panicked. Spencer burst through the door followed by Derek a few seconds later, and I wept at the sight of him. After trying and failing to talk him down, Morgan shot the UnSub and Spencer rushed to me, quickly untying me and gathering me into his arms. He had whispered those same words to me, “You’re alright, you’re safe.”

Spencer’s hands ran up and down my back. I was still curled in a ball, Spencer’s back against the headboard. My head was buried in my knees and Spencer pressed his chest against my side. One of his hands stroked my back and the other wrapped around my ankle, grounding me. He kept counting my breaths until they were even, and the tears streaming down my face were silent except for a few sniffles.

Pulling my face out of my knees, I looked up to meet his eyes as I wiped my face. “Thank you.”

The hand he had on my leg came up to my face, wiping my tears for the second time that night. “Of course.” He seemed to hesitate around his next words, clearing his throat before he spoke. “I know you want to forget. I understand that maybe more than anyone.” I knew about his drug issues after Tobias Hankel. I hadn’t been around for it, but I knew how much it affected him to this day. It was nearly a year into our friendship before we were close enough that he shared his struggle with addiction. Now, he would come to me on hard days when he needed a distraction. I never pushed for further explanation, and I think he appreciated that. He continued on, looking at me very seriously. “But the only thing we can do is make it so the memories have less power. And that takes time, and it’s almost impossible to do alone.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands in my lap and swallowing thickly. If I hadn’t cried myself out already I probably would’ve started again. My voice was scratchy when I finally spoke. “Can you just-“ I cut myself off, scared to ask for what I knew I needed.

“Anything.” His thumb ran circles against my side, and I turned my face so it was fully in his chest as I finally asked.

“Can you just hold me tonight?” I whispered. “I know we were both planning to read but-“

“No book is more important than you.” Spencer interrupted. “If you want that, of course I can give it to you.”

I sighed in relief, sagging into his chest and finally touching him with my own hands. Hugging him tight against me made breathing a little easier. His heartbeat under my ear was a reminder that we were both here, alive.

Eventually we rearranged ourselves so we were actually comfortable to sleep. When I laid down next to him, he had opened his arms wide so I could cuddle into his chest. I draped one arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest, near his shoulder. His arms came down so one held me against him, the other was holding onto my arm. In a moment of somewhat uncharacteristic bravery, I even hitched my leg up so that it slotted between his. We were tangled together, and I felt like I could breathe again.

I looked up at him without moving from my position, only to find he was already looking at me. When our eyes met he smiled a little. I couldn’t help but return it. “Goodnight, [Y/N].” He whispered.

“Goodnight, Spence.” I returned, before nuzzling further into his chest on a deep inhale. His hand stroked up and down my arm lightly as I drifted off to sleep.

[Night 3]

<<<<>>>>

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ruvviks · 2 years ago

Note

MORE CASSIDY LORE 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

HEHEHHEHE CASSIDY LORE BE UPON YE

he let himself get recruited by militech age 16 because in his own eyes he had nothing left to live for :/ training period cut short because one of his superiors saw his ~potential~ and then he began working for her

interesting track record at militech! worked as secretary/personal assistant for above mentioned superior and was essentially used by her to get into a more powerful position and then she put him on bodyguard duty. got taken off bodyguard duty when his superiors realized his clients were dying because cassidy was killing them himself. got a weaponry sales desk job. lost the job and got put on netrunner duty instead because he kept getting into arguments with colleagues. got sent back into the field as cleanup crew member because he continuously hacked into militech's own systems and then wrote extensive reports about the failures and weaknesses of their cybersecurity. and then he got "recommended" to maxtac and moved corporations and militech threw a facking party when he was gone

important to mention he was 20 years old when he started at maxtac. he was a facking nuisance and i love him so much for it

his time at maxtac was also. weird. to say the least. started with a boot camp internship period where they put him through hell and let's just say his cunty militech swag was mostly gone by the time they were done with him :/

introducing: autopilot cassidy! got all the emotion sucked out of him because of his introduction to maxtac and was from then on suitable for field work <3 he did cyberpsycho elimination work for a while until he got severely injured and was moved back to a desk job at the cyberpsycho reprogramming division

not much interesting happened there other than the fact cassidy met officer reid bennett. and they started dating :/ i have much to say about that. many thoughts. but for now let's keep it at cassidy poured his heart out for reid and it was too much for reid. but also they were together for about three-ish years and reid just never said anything. he's a cunt and i want him dead (maybe)

important to mention that cassidy's autopilot mode briefly switched off when he was with reid. but then reid broke up with him and he snapped back into it harder than before. which is important information for later just wait

then he went back to field work. was put in a death squad. maxtac's best of the best <3 ended up killing his entire squad because they were making fun of him and then he got fired and a five hour head start before they would start hunting him for sports

i don't have much yet for his time with kang tao but he basically found shelter there and it was a "join us or die" kinda situation after that. so. he was kang tao suddenly. worked with them for some months then fucked them over fantastically. he got humiliated at work which prompted him to just release a whole bunch of scandals to the public <3 somehow made it out in one piece and well. maxtac is no longer hunting him these days but kang tao 100% is <3 SGHJFDHGFJD

cassidy was 27 when that happened and he still just. needed a job of some sort so he decided to become an assassin >:^) gets hired by people to kill other people, very straightforward and simple, it passes the time, easy money because of all his skills so all in all. pretty good! except for the autopilot

and all of that brings us to the present <3 cassidy has just been given a new job by a very mysterious client who barely gave him anything to work with but long story short, cassidy has to kill a guy who is leader of a gang. plain and simple. very straightforward. one would think >:) you can read chapter 1 here if you're inch rested >:)

here's some more facts about him that i like to spin in my brain

he makes little noises :) beep boop when he's hacking, pew pew when he's shooting, tee hee when he did something smart. likes to mimic noises he hears around him

talks to himself a lot also <3 he was very lonely when he was young and he would often pretend his plushies were his friends and he would talk to them and himself to keep himself company and he still does that nowadays

his nervous system is insanely fucked up because of an incident he's been in when he was a kid which means he can very easily get overwhelmed and register touch as something hurtful :( it helps if he's the one initiating physical contact with someone and wearing gloves helps too, but when others touch him without warning and not gentle it can very easily physically hurt him </3 not great at all because he is touch starved and really just wants to be held but. yeas. it's just pain most of the time ;-;

he's a bit of a freak when it comes to monologuing 😔 likes to put people in their place or mock their poorly executed evil plans (if they deserve it in his eyes) or attempts at escaping. uses big words sometimes but also he makes very little sense. just in general actually. he likes to talk a LOT

that being said he struggles a lot with verbalizing his needs which is also very frustrating. there's always many things going on in his brain and his mouth sometimes has trouble keeping up. or the other way round

he is TALL. 2.01m so he is easy to spot. also because of the pink hair. he's very special to me

started graying age 23-24 and he's pretty self-conscious about most of his body, but not his hair :) if anything he likes the fact its by now mostly gray!! but he still dyes it pink because he also just loves pink

in combat he is very much Deadly because. well. militech. maxtac. kang tao. but also he's always holding back a little for some reason. it's pretty difficult to get him to unleash his full potential and that's mainly because he doesn't really like the person he was back at the corps :/ but he still got it in him and if circumstances force his hand. well. you're Fucked LMFAO

sniper boy >:^) throwing knives also. monowire. he is trained in every other type of combat as well those are his favorites. tech weapons and precision rifles also

#asks #mutuals #dickytwister #ask:cassidy #oc asks #THAMK YOU MWAH he is so so SO special to me

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

Bonding (Adrenaline Junkie Chapter 12)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, mentions of death/injury

Word count: 3,383

(A/N): it feels good to get back to this story

A week and a half went by in a flash. In that time, you and Arthur grew closer. You absolutely loved how he was so interested in innovation and engineering, you felt like he was the perfect choice for your apprentice. To pass the time, you would teach Arthur the basics of redstone working. You taught him everything from how to properly store it to the beginnings of using repeaters. Occasionally, Philza would join you two in lessons.

“Then, you just connect the repeaters together with redstone and set each for the desired times. Et voila! You have properly working timed pistons.”

Looking up from your demonstration, you stifle a chuckle at the two sitting in front of you. Arthur, the ever vigilant student, was frantically scribbling down notes into the journal you gave him, his face scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Your father, however, looked downright confused. The poor man was staring down helplessly at the two repeaters in front of him, the whole set up he had looked slightly flimsy in structure. Redstone dust messily formed a line between the iron contraptions with the occasional tiny break in the dust. Judging by the positioning of the repeaters themselves, they were in the right place but they were haphazardly placed. Sure the positioning of the two repeaters relative to each other would work, but it was just something that you wouldn’t do. You always hated clutter in your contraptions. The only true flaw in his build was the messy line of redstone.

You walked over to the table your dad was working at and started to explain why the machine wasn’t working. “So your only mistake here is the cleanliness of your redstone. With it being this messy, there are plenty of potential breakages of the wiring,” you gently swept the redstone into a neat line with your hands and watched as the entire contraption glowed red. Pistons started moving in succession of each other in timed bursts. “One more thing, just a little nitpicky thing, the repeaters are set right, they’re just… messy?” You watched as Philza watched the movement of the pistons with a blank look before he looked up at you with a slightly annoyed look.

“Other than that, the settings of the repeaters were set right!” You sheepishly grinned at him before realizing that he wasn’t going to be reassured by your weak reassurance. You looked over to Arthur, “Arthur buddy you wanna try?”

You watched as his eyes lit up in excitement as he looked up from you from over the brim of his journal. Without a word, he quickly got to work. You and Philza watched him as he continuously looked between his journal and his work.

“I didn’t know working with redstone was so hard. I just thought it was easy with how fast you invent things,” Philza said dejectedly.

You reached over to pat him on the back, “it took me a while to figure it out. I remember four years ago when I started I was completely lost.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle, “I remember when you almost crushed your wing in a piston. You were so lucky it only caught the ends of a few primary feathers.”

You chuckled bittersweetly, “not that it matters. I lost that wing a few months after that.”

You could practically hear his mind start churning, “but you made a new one, you can still fly.”

“It’s not the same Dad. I hate having to spend thirty minutes putting the sensors on my back. I can’t feel the air moving through my feathers anymore. It feels like a part of me is constantly missing and this hunk of useless metal doesn’t take that feeling away.”

He fell silent as he continued to watch Arthur work. You always felt bad whenever you dumped your trauma on him, he was always looking for ways for you to feel better. But there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed with reassurances and small gifts. He didn’t understand that and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kind and caring nature would never get you your wing back. It was gone forever and nothing can bring it back.

You tried to not be bitter about it, it happened three years ago afterall, but you couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste on your tongue and a pang in your heart whenever someone mentions a time when you still had both wings. Whenever someone mentioned you having both wings, you could still remember the feeling of the air working itself through the nooks and crannies of the spaces between your feathers, the way that both wings would hang off your bed because they were too large (you never got to ask Philza about how he covered his wings), the way that they would both puff up behind you when you tried to intimidate your brothers during a snowball fight. You didn’t want those memories, they were of a better version of yourself. You didn’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been if you didn’t go deeper into that damned cave.

“...Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, I should’ve realized how you felt before bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at you with confusion, “why’re you just now-”

“(Y/n) I think I did it! Come look!”

Without a second glance at your dad, you hurried off to inspect Arthur’s contraption. It was perfectly set up; the redstone was in a neat line with no breakages, the repeaters were set perfectly and spaced evenly apart, and the pistons were successfully moving together in timed spurts.

You grinned at Arthur, “well done! This is perfect, you’ll be moving onto making your own inventions in no time. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice.”

Arthur basked in your praise and listened to your words like they were being sung to him by an angel. He was practically beaming with how proud he was of himself. If the redstone smeared on his cheeks could be activated by emotional response, it would be glowing a brilliant red.

You reached out to wipe away the redstone from his cheek with your thumb, “why don’t you go clean up so we can grab some lunch. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I just wanna work with you more!” Arthur tried to convince you, but the rumbling of his stomach told you otherwise. You chuckled as the redstone slowly got camouflaged into his reddening puffed out cheeks.

He looked away in embarrassment as he started to stalk up the stairs, “...I’ll go clean up.”

Alongside teaching Arthur the basics of what you know, you were working on a plan to somehow release the souls from the Warden’s captivity. You felt a sort of survivor’s guilt when you thought about how you returned to your family and Hugh did not. Your family could survive without you, but Hugh was Arthur’s only family. It was unfair that such a kind, loving boy had his only family ripped away from him at such a young age when he needed his brother most. The least you could do for Arthur was free his brother’s soul from it’s endless torment.

You kept a journal that you would write out your plans in. The plans ranged from fighting the Warden with your very limited swordsmanship to blowing the entire cave to smithereens. No matter what plan you came up with, it would always result in you getting seriously wounded or dying for the last time. Most of the plans you came up with wouldn’t work anyways; the Warden was just too powerful. Asking Philza or Techno was out of the question, you didn’t want to risk their lives. That, and they would never let you go kill it. This was something you had to do on your own.

The mere thought of facing the Warden stressed you out extremely, giving you more and more nightmares about the monster.

The Warden somehow entered your house. You could hear it’s booming footsteps working its way through the hallways and stopping at each room. You could hear how it slaughtered your family brutally. You could hear their screams slowly becoming integrated into the horrid cacophony of the souls’ as their souls were absorbed into the Warden’s being. Finally, as the Warden reached your room, you could hear your family’s voices over the harsh screaming of the other souls.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let it get me.” Arthur.

“I thought you’d always protect me.” Tommy.

“Why’d you let me die?” Wilbur.

“I’ve done so much for you and you just let me die.” Techno.

“It should’ve been you.” Philza.

Just as the Warden’s clawed hand swung down towards your face, you bolted up from your bed and flattened yourself against the wall scanning your room for the Warden. There was not a single thing out of place in your room. You wiped away the tears that were streaming freely down your cheeks and grabbed your automatic crossbow you had leaning against your wall. Grasping it with an iron grip and your finger hovering over the trigger, you reluctantly left your room and made your way down the hallway. You opened Philza’s door and peered into his room. You could see his wings sprawled out behind him and his chest rising and falling gently. He was still alive. You closed the door quietly and made your way to Wilbur’s old room where Arthur was currently sleeping. Bracing yourself to find his corpse, you opened the door. You only saw a mop of brilliant red hair poking out of the blankets. You couldn’t see movement, oh god was he even breathing? You rushed over to his bed and pulled back the covers.

You could see his peaceful face looking back at you. Putting your hand under his nose, you held your breath as you waited for air to hit your hand. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt a gentle burst of air hit your hand. You covered Arthur back up and stalked out of his room. Your family was alive. The Warden was still in that cave. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

You glanced at the clock, it was about half past four in the morning. You’d have to wake up in about two hours, so you just made your way down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Not that you’d be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare anyways. Time moved infinitely around you as you became engrossed in your thoughts. You needed to make better plans to kill the Warden. You needed to be better.

You didn’t notice when Arthur and Philza entered the kitchen. You were fully zoned out staring at the now cold cup of coffee in your hands, lost in thought. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your trance. Recoiling violently and reaching for the crossbow you had propped up against the chair, you whipped around and pointed the weapon at the thing that touched you. Instead of the Warden standing there ready to devour you, you were met with a startled Philza stepping back with his hands in the air. Arthur was hiding behind him fearfully.

Your eyes widened as you lowered the crossbow. You could feel your wing start to puff up and retract itself back in reflecting your horror as you hastily put the crossbow back onto the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Shit what time is it, I haven’t made breakfast yet. I’ll start. I'm sorry.”

You pushed passed them as you rushed over to the chest and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. Your shaky hands struggled slightly to pour the exact measurement of flour before someone stopped you.

“(Y/n), I’ll make it.” It was your dad once again.

“No, I got it.”

“(Y/n), I’m not asking. Go sit down.”

You sighed as you started walking to the table. You could hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat when you grabbed the crossbow and stalked up to your room to hide it. You could feel guilt, shame, and horror rise up from deep within you from what you almost did. You couldn’t believe that you almost just shot them because of your stupid delusion. It would’ve been fatal too, your automatic crossbow never failed to kill. It was one of the many downsides to the weapons you invented, you had to live with the fact that people are getting killed because of your inventions. In a way, you indirectly killed many people per day.

You walked down the stairs as slowly as you could so you could avoid having to face them. You couldn’t forget the look of pure fear on Arthur’s face as he hid behind Philza, you were the cause of that. You promised that you would protect him and he fully trusted you to do so. This morning you took that trust and destroyed it the second you reached for that crossbow.

When you reached the dining room, you sat down as far away from Arthur as possible. You could hear Philza pause his movements when he saw you enter the room before he started stirring again. He was probably trying to see if you came back with a stronger weapon so he could protect Arthur. You were a monster.

Soon enough breakfast was ready and a hefty plate of pancakes covered with maple syrup was placed in front of you. Breakfast went by quietly, the only sound coming from the clanking of silverware against plates. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, you were too busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Arthur and Philza. In the middle of your thought process, you were interrupted by Arthur’s voice.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped slightly and looked up at him, “yeah?”

“Can you look at my blueprint? I got an idea for something yesterday and I wanna see if you think it’d work.”

You looked at the young boy in slight confusion, “...Sure just finish your breakfast first.”

“I’m done, I’ll go grab it!”

Without giving you any warning, he jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs.

“You gave us quite the scare this morning hun. What happened?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “I just had a bad nightmare last night. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just… came down here to wait a bit so I could make breakfast.”

“Nightmares are understandable, but why’d you have a crossbow?”

“I thought I needed something to protect the house if it came.”

“If the Warden came? I thought you didn’t get nightmares about it anymore.”

“Well, I still do, just a lot more frequently-”

Arthur burst through the door and ran over to you, slapping the paper on the table in front of you. You squinted at it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. It was a layout of a secret door, which was popular in the world of redstoning. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that though, especially with how excited he was to show you what he made. So, you smiled at him.

“It looks good buddy, do ya wanna try to build it today? I can help you.”

“Yes! I’m gonna go get dressed so we can build it!”

He once again dashed up the stairs, leaving you and Philza alone in the kitchen. Philza chuckled, “he reminds me of Tommy when he was that age. Except… a little more mellow.” When you didn’t respond, he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “he was so scared of me this morning. I promised to protect him and I almost ended up killing him.”

“...Ya know I almost stabbed you and your brothers multiple times when you guys were younger because you guys startled me right?”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, “of course I do, and you would always get us ice cream after.”

“Did you ever resent me for it?”

“No, you were just trying to def- oh, I see where you’re going with this.”

“Ever the keen one,” he chuckled. “Arthur’s more understanding than most kids his age, I bet he understands that you didn’t mean to do that. You just gotta make it up to him.”

“Alright, thank you Dad. I think I’m gonna go get dressed so Arthur doesn’t have to wait long. I think if I have him wait any longer he’s gonna explode.”

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and grabbed the materials Arthur would need and a couple of extra supplies you might need. Walking outside, you were met with an excited Arthur. You two worked on his contraption all day. You knew exactly what he needed to do to fix any problems that arouse, but you only gave him little hints that would push him in the right direction. You wanted him to stop relying on you so much for the little things. Sure, you were always going to be there for him when he was stuck, but you wanted him to be more independent.

Eventually, the sky took on hues of pinks and yellows as the sun started to disappear behind the treeline. “It’s getting late, Arthur. You made good progress today.”

He nodded as he walked alongside you back into the house as you led him to the couch. “Arthur?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and confusion. “I’m so proud of how fast you’ve improved. I have something for you.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a new pair of goggles and leather gloves.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“I love it.” He whispered as he stared down at his presents in his hands. Without warning, he flung himself into your side as he tightly hugged your midsection. You froze before you wrapped your left wing around him in a feathery hug. Your hand reached up to stroke his hair as you chuckled. “It’s no problem kid, you deserve it.”

You two sat there for a bit before you patted his back, “dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go clean up so my dad doesn’t throw a fit. You have redstone and dirt all over you.”

After you two cleaned the dirt off from your faces and hands, you led Arthur down the stairs. You nudged his shoulder when you got to the end of the stairs, “race you to the kitchen!”

You broke off into a speed walk as Arthur started to sprint, laughing boisterously as the distance grew between you two quickly. Grinning, you shouted out, “oh no, I can’t go any faster! You’re gonna win!”

You dramatically yelled out a stretched out “no” as he bolted into the kitchen and sat at the table. You sped walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. “How’re you so fast? I couldn’t catch up to you if I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re a speed demon Arthur!” Philza agreed from the stove between laughs. He forgot how much missed having his kids race each other to the dinner table, having Arthur around the house was really refreshing for him. He was ecstatic that you were getting closer to Arthur, it meant that he was going to get another grandson soon.

Dinner went by a lot smoother with laughter and banter being tossed around freely. Arthur would not take the goggles off and wore them proudly at the top of his head. Philza would cast knowing looks over to you when he was sure you were looking at him, which confused you, but you just brushed the feeling aside. You were happy sitting at the table eating with your little family; you couldn’t wait for your brothers and nephew to finally meet Arthur. They’d get along well with your apprentice. Until then, you have a mission to complete involving a certain monster.

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@acecarddraws @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash4 @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado @laura--444 @wing-non @lovely-echoo @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @mysteryartisticwriter @momo-has-a-gun @mosstea-png @w-0-r-n-n @v-kouya @kusuinko @kiinokochii @cheybaee @dulcedippers @jaciahbabes

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #sibling reader #platonic #mcyt #mcyt x reader #tw: nightmare #tw: swearing #tw: death #tw: injury

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