#but anyhow i hope you like this response! though i know it was likely more than just a bit depressing jsjsj

[lususnatura]

“ everything will be okay, i promise. but you need to talk to me.”

andie had said something to him — blamore knew that much, at least — but it sounded like she was speaking through a tunnel in his perspective. her voice had acquired a rather uncanny echoey quality to it, after all, that almost made it sound garbled. the logical side of blamore's brain told him that this was probably due to him going through some sort of emotional shock; a thing that, unfortunately, really wasn't all that uncommon for someone who'd just experienced trauma. blamore remained looking down at one of the wilted flowers that its attacker had pulled from its ribs within its hand. it hated thinking about that word in this context, he thought. for the person who had come into his greenhouse that day... they still found a way to hurt him, despite the fact that he was supposed to be able to protect himself now.

people really were no good to him. especially when they're desperate and want something that you told them you can't give them. blamore was honestly conflicted between feeling like he was about to explode from anger and cry out in pain. the flora that was now missing from its body ached like nothing had in years. because when push came to shove, blamore's attacker had removed something from him that it had actually come to admire after a long time of looking at himself in the mirror, and feeling all wrong about what he saw. there was a certain kind of horror in having a part of your bodily autonomy stripped from you. but after reaching the conclusion that nature was indiscriminate in the way it both offered and took life from people, blamore had found some comfort in that. it did essentially mean that what happened to it wasn't personal.

so, it was like just as he was starting to come to peace with what his body looked like now, the fates decided to turn the tables on him. blamore was also in a significant amount of physical pain, and no one here seemed to understand how to help it. so, his desire to see nico morselli right now was like somewhat of a scared kid's: it was all blamore could think about now to the point where it just wanted to hide away from everyone and everything else. burgeon felt very unlike himself, with the way he was curled up with his knees up to his chest and buried his face into them. it needed something to help ground it, but instead, he was being grilled by some new vigilante he'd never seen before.

and lord knows how much disdain blamore felt towards them in general. he moved his body to the side to further avoid having to look at andie, then, and try one last time to shoot her a message that it wasn't interested in talking. ❝ go away. you don't even know the first thing about me, so how could you promise me anything? ❞ a mix between a contemptuous scoff and a half-hearted chuckle left it's mouth, ❝ bring your amis cochons (pig friends) with you too. i never asked to file a police report, so i have no idea why you brought them here. but they'll never be welcome in my home. ❞

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

(Not a request dw)

Re: Knock Out's human managing to escape during the game of Hide and Shriek via an Autobot helping them out.

My first thought is that the Autobot who winds up helping them out is probably Bumblebee, Arcee, or Smokescreen. Somebody fast enough to not get caught in the rescue process, or leave a significant amount of evidence behind that it was them.

For the sake of further discussion, I'm just gonna say that it was Bumblebee. So, he's patrolling when a human in rough shape, that smells a Whole lot like a certain Decepticon trots up to the side of the road waving him down. Now, Optimus has told him, and the rest of his allies that they are to remain hidden from humanity lest the Decepticons track them down sooner. But it seems Knock Out has already threatened this one so not helping them out just isn't an option.

After listening to the shortened version of their story about what happened, he pans through the radio stations to cobble together a response. "Hop on in, Baby! I'll get you -somewhere safe!" And then he pops open the passenger seat door. The human doesn't seem thrilled about the prospect of being inside of Another unmanned, probably alien car, but can't find it in them to refuse the offered help. So they get seated inside, and buckle in. Apologizing for the mess they're making inside as it's been quite the night.

Bumblebee closes the door quietly, and drives off towards Jasper. His radio piping up once more to say; "You're fine. -It's all good. -Where's your stop anyhow?" The human pointedly doesn't comment on the shifting voices, hoping that if the stranger elements of the vehicle went unmentioned, the "Driver" won't turn hostile. "You can drop me off by the grocery store, I can walk home from there."

"Well alright! -Do you mind if I ask -What happened -to you -out there?" Bumblebee hopes that it wasn't the kind of encounter he been hearing about lately. The kind where humans go missing, and if they ever turn up again, they're covered in solvent. A Decepticon looking for a quick snack, and a sentient pet, no doubt just snatching any ole' human they can find. The human tilts their head, feigning confusion.

"But I thought I told you what happened already?" Bumblebee ex-vents quietly, and tries again. "I know you were -cuttin' pieces out -of your story. It's alright! -I won't snitch if you won't." It's the human's turn to sigh, but this one sounds tired. "Fine. But it's gonna sound weird, yeah?"

"Go right on ahead."

"I was walking home when a red Ashton Martin pulled up next to me, and apparently had a taser? Of some kind? It zapped me, and I passed out. Only to wake up in the car, far outside of town roughly around that old trainyard, you know? I did my best to crash the car, and after some mild success, I bolted into one of the train cars." They pause to collect themselves a little, in utter disbelief about the whole thing. Though, unbeknownst to them, Bumblebee is dreading the confirmation about his prior theories.

"After a few minutes, I was found by a giant robot. An arrogant, 20-something foot tall bastard of a giant robot named-"

"Knockout!"

... ... ...

"You-uh, you wouldn't happen to be a friend of his, would you?"

"Nonono -He's an -aft -hat -and an enemy of mine. You're safe -with me. I'll get you -home safe." Bumblebee sighs again before explaining himself. "He's a real bad dude. -On the opposite side -from me, and my friends. -We're trying to protect -this -Planet Earth! -And the creatures that live -on it. Are you sure you don't -want to -lie low somewhere -safer? He may -know where you live." Bumblebee didn't want to scare them further, but if this is Knock Out they're talking about, he's probably looked into them enough to deduce that they're worth whisking away. It's better to be certain about things.

The human sits in silence for a moment, registering the idea that they might've been targeted in particular by the giant robot. They decide to derail the current conversation for a moment so they could think over his offer. "You, uh, are you the same... Species? As this Knock Out guy?" There's a notable pause before the self-driving car responds. "Yeeeeeaaahhh.... I'm sorry for -not mentioning it earlier. You already seemed -shaken -and I didn't want to -rock the boat -further"

The human sighs deeply, and throws their hands up a little. "Ey' you know what? At least You aren't forcing me into a game of Hide and Seek, or threatening to Eat me. ... I... I think I'll take you up on the offer to lie low somewhere safer if that's alright." They huff out a laugh before continuing. "As long as 'somewhere safer' isn't Your stomach. Haha" Somehow, Bumblebee doesn't find the idea of taking advantage of their awful situation very funny.

"I'm not that kinda guy -Honest! I just wanna make sure that you're okay!" The duo make it into town unfollowed, and they both seem to relax a little. "I can -hook you up -with a place -you can stay -where he -can't find you. After that, we can get -you -moved -outta town! -And far from -his -nastiness. Okay?" They sag in their seat a little, hoping he's telling the truth.

"Sure, that sounds great... Um-" "Bumblebee" "Yeah, that sounds great Bumblebee. Thank you."

"No problem!"

-Not a Request Anon

THIS IS SO CUTE!!! Bumblebee would definitely fit perfectly into his scenario!! Awww and the human gradually forming friendships with the Autobots while Knockout just seethes over the fact that he lost his human to Bumblebee of all mechs. It was supposed to be him! Don’t think you’ve seen the last of him, because even with the Autobots protecting you, he isn’t going to give up that easily.

[zombiigrll]

FOREVER GRATEFUL FOR YOU. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 3.7K (JESUS.) ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ angst + comfort (mostly angst), retelling of the walking dead 8x8 (so slight spoilers), use of y/n, reader death, blood, your regular zombie apocalypse warnings, cursing, kissing, mostly just sad stuff!! .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ i am SO SORRY for how INSANELY LONG this is. it took me like 3-4 hours to write oh my god. hope you guys enjoy anyhow though<3

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carl told you he was going on a run to find the man the two of you had spotted at the gas station. you begged to go, and eventually, he caved. the two of you had known each other since the start, being neighbors and all. you were in his house while you waited for lori to get ready to take the two of you to school, and thats when everything went down. with all of the things he saw you do, he knew you could take care of yourself.

...or he thought you could.

the two of you were lucky enough to find the man from the gas station and you found out his name was siddiq.

"i'm gonna ask you a few questions. i need you to answer honestly, okay?" carl told siddiq.

"..okay." siddiq nodded.

"how many walkers have you killed?" siddiq looks around, thinking. "i know it's hard to keep track-"

"237."

"really?" you raised an eyebrow, impressed, but skeptical.

"give or take a couple." siddiq shrugged.

carl nodded in response before continuing. "how many people have you killed?"

"one." the man averted his gaze to the ground.

"why?"

"the dead tried to kill him, but... they didn't." he explained, looking back up at the two of you.

"you've been making walker traps? is that how you've been killing all of them?" you asked, crossing your arms as you looked at the scenery of traps and the deceased walkers behind him.

"it's only part of it. my mom thought- or hoped- that killing them would free their souls. you know?" he clarified, seemingly upset but proud talking about his mother.

"doing that, doesn't that just make things harder for you while you're trying to survive?" carl inquired, furrowing his brows.

"i don't know.. i.. but you.. you gotta honor your parents, right?"

...

the three of you had been walking for a little while before you guys came across a couple walkers in the distance, crouching down near a tree.

"okay. for your mom." carl smiles and siddiq before facing you, signaling for you to join.

you grabbed your knife that was holstered across your waist, stepping forward alongside siddiq and carl. but shortly after, there was too many. at first it only seemed like a couple, enough for just the three of you to take care of quickly. but they began coming in from other sides of the forest, and you were cornered. you were stepping back to try and get more distance, but you twisted your ankle on a tree root, causing you to topple on top of the tree laying on the ground. the walkers began limping towards you as you looked frantically around for where your knife had went. but you were too late. two of the walkers were down on the ground, one on top of you and the other on your side. you tried your best to push the one over you with one of your hands while searching the ground for your knife with the other one.

*chomp!*

a pain rushed through your side, but you didn't think much of at that point due to feeling the handle of your knife, quickly picking it up and jamming it through the skull of the walker on your side, then into the one in front of you, pushing it off of you.

right as you did so, you were met with carl staring at you wide-eyed.

"oh my god, you're covered in blood." he ran over to you, crouching down next to you and grabbing your hand. "are- are you bit?"

he helped you up and you stared at the ground, then at your bloodied clothes. "...no. i'm okay."

you weren't okay. you knew what had happened to you, but.. you couldn't tell him. not now. you were lucky enough that your shirt had fallen over the bite when you stood up.

"are you sure? you don't feel anything at all?" he repeated his question, his hands on top of your shoulders while he looked at you with concern.

"i'm sure." you nodded, wiping your hands on your legs. "we should.. we should head back now."

carl sighs. "...okay."

you felt like shit.

...

the entire walk back, carl was extremely cautious of any walkers, hoping there wouldn't be another close call on the way.

"...i love you, carl. don't ever forget that." you said, you voice low and slightly shaken.

"i love you, too. are you okay?" he was surprised at your sudden comment, which proved to have made him a bit anxious.

"yeah, yeah. i just wanted to say i love you." you smiled quickly at him before looking back down at your feet as you continued walking. you could feel your ankle that you twisted earlier was pulsating, and you could feel the bite beginning to eat away at your body, but you tried your best to keep your composure. you wanted your final day with carl to be normal.

...

you guys got arrived at alexandria and you walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. you stared at yourself in the mirror, taking in everything that had just happened. you removed your jacket and lifted up your shirt to reveal the bite, which was still leaking with blood. you couldn't take your eyes off of it. you shook your head while tears began falling from your eyes, processing this whole situation.

"fuck." you let out a breathy laugh before taking your shirt completely off.

you grabbed some of the medical supplies from behind the mirror and put it over the bite so it wouldn't bleed through new clothes. you grabbed a clean shirt from the laundry basket behind you and put it on.

you wiped the tears from your eyes, cleaning up your appearance a bit more before exiting the bathroom.

"there you are. how're you doing?" carl sat up from the couch and walked over to you.

"oh, i'm doing fine." you smiled up at him, interlocking his hands with yours. "hey, do you know where that camera is?"

"camera?" his eyebrow raised as he tilted his head with curiosity.

"yeah, remember? the camera? i used to always use it to take photos of you and judith." you reminded him with a laugh.

"oh, the camera!" he joined the laugh. "it's in my room, i'll go get it." he began walking in the direction of his room swiftly, coming back with the camera in hand shortly after.

"thank you." you took the camera from his hands, quickly pointing it up and taking a photo of him.

"ah, hey!" he chuckled, covering part of his face.

you grabbed the photo from the camera before pulling him into a tight hug.

"hey.. wheres judith?" you inquired, your head buried in his neck.

"she's up in her room, why?"

"we should hangout with her." you broke from the hug with a smile, putting the camera into your bag before heading into the direction of her room, carl following shortly behind you.

you walked into her room and picked her up from her crib. "hey, jude." you spoke in a soft voice, holding her gently in your arms. carl smiled at your actions. he's always had a soft spot for you and judith.

you began walking outside with judith in your arms and carl following by your side. you sit down on the steps of the porch, setting judith down in between you and carl. you dig into your bag and pull the camera out again, holding it up and taking a picture of the three of you.

you take the photo from the camera, moving it down to judith so she can see. as carl looked down at the photo that was forming, he notices how shaky your hands are.

"hey, your hands are shaking.." he points out, putting his hand over yours.

"oh, hah.. i'm okay. i don't know why i'm shaking so bad." you shrugged it off nervously, setting the photo in your bag along with the camera.

"..okay." carl nervously responded, nodding his head slowly.

"hey, carl?"

"hm?"

"do you remember before all of this when you came over to help decorate my room and my mom let us dip our hands in paint and put it above my bed?" you reminisced on the moment.

"oh, yeah, i remember!" carls nervous expression turned into a smile. "i remember asking my mom when i got home if she would let me do that. we never got the chance to."

"...why don't we do it now?" you asked, smiling back at him.

"do we have paint?"

you looked around and spotted some blue paint on the side of the porch. "there!" you pointed to it before grabbing it, setting it right next to you. "we could put the handprints right here on the porch."

you dipped the palm of your hand in the paint, setting it down on the porch. carl did the same after, except on the opposite hand of yours.

"hey, isn't blue your favorite color?" you asked carl, noticing him getting more excited about the paint after you found the blue paint.

he nodded, lifting his now blue paint-stained hand off of the porch.

the two of you faced judith, then each other. you carefully grabbed both of judiths hands and dipped her palms in the paint, setting them to the side of yours and carls prints.

the three of you giggled happily, smiling at each other.

"now this porch is ours." you proudly stated, glancing at the handprints drying into the porch. "let's go get our hands washed."

you carefully picked judith up with your non-paint stained hand and brought her to the bathroom to wash her hands.

...

it was the next day. it felt fairly peaceful- well, besides your body weakening. you knew that you were getting closer to your limit. carl was in the other room resting. you found a pile of envelopes and paper, and proceeded to write. your first note, of course, was to carl. after that, you wrote to michonne, rick, daryl, maggie, then judith. sure, she couldn't read, but for when she's older. you had also found some jewelry beads and string. when you and carl were younger, the two of you had friendship bracelets. his was blue, which had always been his favorite color, and yours was purple. you decided to recreate it for him to remember you by.

once you were finished, you put them on your wrists, covering them with your sleeves.

...

it was now night, and negan had came to alexandria. a feedback was played on the intercom before negan spoke into it. we was speaking about apologies, and whoever gave the lamest one would be killed. you all were given three minutes to open the gate for them. you felt your fever begin coming in, your body temperature quickly rising.

"come on." carl whispered, nudging you in the shoulder to snap you out of your daze, doing the same with michonne. "y/n, michonne! come on!"

"you guys go. i'll deal with them, okay?" you told him, to which he instantly shook his head disapproving.

"no, you're coming with. it's not something we're discussing-"

"go." your voice turned stern. "i'll be fine. they won't get me. i'll distract them and give you more time to get everyone to the sewer. then come back to the watchtower."

carl looked like he was about to say something, but you cut him off with a kiss. as you pulled away, you smiled at him reassuringly. "trust me."

carl furrowed his brows before looking up at you and nodding, nudging michonne to lead her away.

you began walking up the ladder to the watch tower, hearing negan give final warnings to rick despite him not being there.

you stood up on the watch tower. "rick isn't here."

"oh, shit!" negan said in his annoyingly enthusiastic tone. "everyone, everyone, hold your fire... it's y/n. look at you. answering the door just for him. sucks that he's gonna come home to a big smoky surprise."

"there's families in there. theres kids, carls baby sister." you crossed your arms, looking down at him.

"well, that shit just breaks my heart." negan said pathetically. "there's kids at the sanctuary. even had a baby at one of the outposts. i wonder what happened to her."

you stayed silent, angrily glaring at him.

"none of this shit's fair, kid. carl knows that."

"don't." your voice turned stern.

"he had to kill his own mom. that is screwed up." negan bringing up lori and her death filled you with rage. god, you wanted to get rid of negan right then and there. but you were smarter than that.

you took a deep breath. "bad stuff happens, but we can figure this out. we... we can stop this."

"rick had it that i died, no matter what." he reminded angrily. "he gave my people a choice, not me. now we're gonna need a new understanding. apologies, punish-"

"kill me."

"...what?"

"if you have to kill anybody, if there has to be a punishment, kill me. just me. serious."

"you want to die, girl?" he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you.

"no... no, i don't. but i'll die if it means everyone here lives." you averted your eyes, looking down and noticing carl standing by the ladder waiting for you. "if.. if all of this ends, or makes things different because i die? it'll be worth it. i mean, was this your plan? is this really who you wanted to be?"

negan looks away, which gives you an opportunity to get down the watchtower and back to carl. you try and get down the ladder as quick as possible, but you trip at the last step.

luckily, carl was there to catch you. "shit, you're sweating bullets. are you okay-"

"nevermind that, we have to go!"

you and carl ran around alexandria, throwing the smoke bombs around as negan and the saviors begin launching their grenades into the homes.

as you guys are running around, you begin getting dizzy and your body heat is increasing.

you walk up onto the porch of one of the houses, laying the back of your head on the front door as you catch your breath. you wipe the sweat off of your head, breathing heavily.

carl walks up to you, throwing a smoke bomb behind him. "what's the matter with you?"

you shook your head. "nothing, nothing. i'm fine. just.."

you and carl come to a halt at the sound of a bomb hissing behind you. you turn around to face the house and just before the bomb blows, carl grabs you by your hand and tugs you towards him, stepping back away from the house.

as your body presses up against him, he notices your body temperature at a high. "jesus, you're burning up. here, the sewer is right here."

he lifts up the sewer cover and begins crawling down, signaling for you to follow after him. you walk over and step onto the ladder, pulling the sewer cover back over to cover you guys.

as you get to the bottom, you turn around and see everyone, safe. you start breaking down, covering your mouth as you sob.

“y/n? whats wrong? its done, were safe, everyone is safe.” carl says with confusion and panic in his tone as you stay silent. "...please, say something. you're scaring me."

“…im sorry carl. im so sorry.” carl raises an eyebrow.

you lift up the side of your shirt, revealing your bite to everyone.

carl stares at you, his eye becoming glossy and his brows furrowing together as his breaths deepen. he shakes his head. “no.. stop.” he turns around with his hands behind his head, shaking.

“it happened when i was trampled by the walkers.” you admitted.

“why… why didnt you tell me then..? you told me you were fine!” his voice was wobbly as he tried calming down.

“because i didnt want my last day to be spent with you worrying. i wanted your genuine happiness, not you masking your emotions because you knew it would be the… the final time.” your voice cracked as you spoke.

carl stayed silent, understanding, but still denying the whole situation. “i cant- no-“ he began to cry, running up to you and hugging you tightly. one of his hands laid behind your head and the other along your waist. “you can’t leave me. not- not like this, please.”

“i’m sorry. you’re gonna be okay, carl. you… you’re strong. stronger than anyone i’ve ever met before.”

you broke from the hug and began taking the bracelet off of your wrist, handing it to him. “here, take it.” carl wiped away the tears flowing from his eye before reaching his shaking hand out to the bracelet, taking it from your hands and putting it over his wrist.

"it's.. blue." he remembered the conversation you two had the previous day about his favorite color.

"yep. just for you." you chuckled, rolling your sleeve down and holding up your wrist to reveal the bracelet you made to match his. "we always wanted matching friendship bracelets, remember?"

you moved your hands up to the sides of his face, smiling widely at him with tears in your eyes. “you’re gonna be okay…you’re gonna be okay.”

before carl could say anything, you let out a loud wince as a pain shot through your side. carl quickly grabs you, stabilizing you.

"do.." he sniffles. "do you need to sit down?"

you nodded and carl helped you down on the ground. he held your hand tightly, pulling it up to his face.

"i can't..." he cried.

"i know, i know." you brought up your free hand to move his hair out of his face, moving his head to face you. "you're so sweet. i'm so.. so glad that i got to spend my whole life with you. i'm sorry you couldn't spend yours with me."

he shook his head in shock. the sewer cover opened, and rick and michonne stepped down, noticing carl resting his head on your hand and your beaten up and dying frame sitting on the ground.

"y/n?" michonne called out, her eyes widening at the sight of you.

you glanced over to her with a saddened smile. you brought your free hand to lift up your shirt again to re-reveal your infecting bite. rick walked over and put a hand on his sons back, staring at you somberly.

"...i got bit." you sighed, a tear falling from your eye. "me and carl, we were bringing someone back. his name is siddiq. he was the guy you saw at the gas station before."

rick shakes his head, covering his mouth. michonne steps closer to you with tears in her eyes. she had always been such a supportive person for you and carl, especially since lori had passed. "it wasn't the saviors, it wasn't anyone. i just.. i got bit."

...

"the saviors are gone. we can get everyone to the hilltop. we can get y/n to the hilltop!" carl argued, squeezing your hand tightly.

rick sighs. "she wont-"

"daryl can get one of the cars."

"y/n can't leave here." rick sternly says. "she doesn't have enough time."

"...i have to stay with her." carl shakes his head, looking down at you.

"carl.."

"if she can't go, then i'm staying with her." he repeats, a tear falling from his eye.

"..can you take judith?" rick asks daryl.

daryl nods, picking her up. "yeah. i'll get her there. i'll keep her safe."

"let me say goodbye." you weakly ask.

daryl sets her down near you, and she begins walking towards you.

you weakly smile at judith. "i already know you're gonna be incredible. you entered this world at a bad time, but that will only make you stronger. you're gonna grow up, make friends, find someone you love.. you'll live." you look down at the ground with a smile. "just like your mom said to carl, you're gonna beat this world. you and him."

judith begins whining, and thats when daryl picks her up again.

"goodbye, judith." you waved. "goodbye, daryl."

after stating your goodbyes to a couple people, you felt yourself beginning your end.

"i don't.. i don't know how much longer i have left." you held carls hand tighter. "i don't want to die in here."

"here." carl wraps your arm around his neck.

...

carl and rick helped you to the house across the way, setting you down carefully inside.

"th-thank you." you coughed. "i.. i have one more thing for you, carl."

"what? what is it?" he kneeled down next to you.

"it hurts to move, it's in my front pocket. please grab it."

he reaches in hand into your pocket and pulls out the envelop. "this?"

you nod. "open it."

he opens the envelop and reads whats inside.

'carl, you have always been there for me, ever since the beginning. after losing my family, you helped me. you, rick, and lori all helped me. i never thought that it would end this way, and i'm sorry i put you through this pain. i'm glad i met you. i'm glad you ended up being the one. i wouldn't have traded you for anyone else. thank you, and i love you. through life and death. - y/n.'

tears began flowing out of his eye yet again. he brought up a hand to cover his mouth.

"we grew up too fast. but we grew up together. i'm forever grateful for you, carl grimes." you laughed, holding his hand. "i love you."

"i- i love you, too." his voice cracked. "everything i did was for you, y/n. every single thing."

"that doesn't have to change. you have to be there for judith now, too. she needs her brother." you moved your hand up to his face. you felt your fever start to set in, and your brain felt like it was shaking alongside the rest of your body. "...it's time, carl."

"do you want me to.. to do it?" he put his hand to the gun that was holstered on his side.

"i can't do it myself. i can't move." you cried with a smile still laying across your face. "i'm sorry."

"it's okay." he took out his gun and moved his free hand to the side of your face.

"can i have one last kiss?" you chuckled. he nodded and leaned in, kissing you. you closed your eyes and felt the metal go to the side of your head.

and then all the pain went away.

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[galedekarios]

Can I ask where the dialogue about gale previously being a professor pre game events is

hello, anon! thank you for the question. the short answer is: there is none!

the longer answer is that as far as we know, he wasn't a professor before the events of the game, but only becomes one in one of his epilogue endings.

we do know gale is a wizard of acclaim and scholar of exceptional accomplishment:

Gale: Let's see. I hail from Waterdeep, the City of Splendours. I'm a wizard of considerable acclaim, and scholar of exceptional accomplishment. I have a cat, a library, and a weakness for a good glass of wine. And if the mood takes me, I'm known to try my hand at poetry. There.

it could mean a number of things of course, we don't exactly know because gale doesn't say what that entails for him, but he likely published works on his research subjects and it's also likely he's worked on spells with tara together since we do know that she invented the 'cat flap of displacement'.

we do also know that gale had pupils prior to the game, but not as a professor:

Player: Do you have much experience being a teacher of magic? I suspect so. Gale: I've had a pupil or two, but never for very long. Their ineptitudes tend to... irk me. Gale: You do seem to be a precocious talent though. I can always tell when I meet with a keen mind receptive to Mystra. Gale: Keep it up and she might just take a personal interest in you one of these days.

again, we know he wasn't a professor or he would've certainly mentioned it in his introduction, as well as it not being such a big part of his epilogue ending, showing his growth and making peace with himself. the way his files frame him becoming a professor also speak against him being so before the game:

This dialogue covers instances where Gale attends the Withers party in a human (non-god) form. His default state is that he returned to Waterdeep and became a professor of Illusory magic at his former school, Blackstaff Academy. General vibe here is that this is a Gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

i think it's more likely he either tutored - as that is a very common practise in waterdeep, and even available to the lower classes:

or gale took on a wizard apprentice independently, which... i can sort of see happening. although, it seems he wasn't ready at that point. we can only speculate as to why. perhaps these pupils couldn't keep up with gale, who we do know has a brilliant mind that's always moving, perhaps he wasn't ready yet to take on such a great responsibility while romanticising the idea itself.

what we do know is that he likes sharing knowledge, he wants to impart wisdoms and teachings. not only do we notice that along the journey with gale as a companion, but it's also explicitly a wish revealed by the love test with zethino the dryad:

Zethino: Gale: the learned wizard. The charming gentleman. The walking apocalypse. Zethino: Listen. Think. If the wizard were given the choice, what food would he be? Player: A shiny red apple - wholesome as can be. Gale: Ah, the fruit of scholars. How I long to have a troop of loyal students grace me with apples by the orchard-full in exchange for wisdoms imparted... devnote: Pleased, briefly daydreaming

and that he does grow into his own in the epilogue, through his travels and experiences.

he becomes a great professor, whose students hold him in high regard and whose passion for the position is evident in everything he says during the epilogue.

anyhow, i hope that was helpful! 🖤

[kurishiri]

03 . . . the past records ˗ˏˋ🍎🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: none.

Liam: Hearing Al say they played this game to decide whether he stayed by Lord Elbie’s side or died... it makes me wonder, does he really hate being by his side that much?

Roger: Haha, it’s nothing that serious. If he really hated staying by his side that much, he wouldn’t have just left it to something like luck. He would’ve taken it in his own hands.

Liam: Right? That’s what I was thinking.

Roger: He says stuff like ‘it’s a game of luck,’ but really he just wants a cover up.

Liam: So... if he doesn’t have an excuse, he can’t be together with him? But why?

Roger: ......Who knows.

Liam: Hmm... I feel like despite hearing the whole story, I still don’t know what’s the answer to that question that started it all.

L: Why is Al with Lord Elbie?

Roger: Word’s that when they met, they were both going through something that made it hard for them to be apart from each other.

R: And anything more about that is beyond me.

Liam: Hm...

L: You see, Al has been helping me satisfy my curiosity by indulging in my whims...

L: ...but he would really have gone and done something dangerous, if I asked for it, I feel like.

L: Like, he puts his life on the line just for a game of luck... so much so, I wouldn’t be surprised if we found his corpse tomorrow... I guess.

L: Oh, maybe he also has the ‘Cheshire Cat’s Curse’ like me?

Roger: ...If he did have such a Curse, maybe he would be able to be a part of others’ lives without feeling the need to keep up a pretense.

—— Perspective shift ——

Today’s mission for Crown was to pass judgment on the person who’s been illicitly making drugs, and to gather proof of their crime.

William and Harrison were to pass judgment,

while Alfons and Elbert were assigned to gather proof.

In a certain warehouse containing imported goods,

Alfons and Elbert were able to find the raw materials used to make that dangerous drug hidden within the very general spices.

They were carrying out their mission without a hitch——

when suddenly, several bullets shot through the air, piercing holes through the burlap bags piled high in a heap,

until the contents of the bags spilled on top of the two men.

Elbert: There’s an eyewitness... we have to go after them.

Alfons: Do you really have the luxury to say that when we’re in this state?

The two of them were buried in so much spice from the waist down, it was hard to laugh it off as any joke.

And Alfons let out a sigh as though he were fed up.

Alfons: This is William and Harry we’re talking about?

A: They won’t let a single one go alive, so it should be fine.

A: Anyhow, more importantly, I can’t help but feel an inkling that I’ve run into this smell before—

Elbert: ...! Al, over there, there are cats.

They had probably been hiding somewhere in the warehouse, but some stray cats had shown themselves, gathering around them.

Alfons: Ah, yes, I remember that spice’s scent now.

Elbert: ...?

Alfons: It’s cat powder.

While they were having an out-of-tune conversation, the two became surrounded by cats.

Alfons: Come now, don’t cozy up on your own quite yet. Why don’t you help us out?

A: I hope you know the reason you guys can indulge yourselves in cat powder is because of us?

A cat drew closer to Alfons as he petted it around its neck.

The cat purred in response, snuggling its body up to his palm.

Elbert: ...Hehe.

Alfons: Whatever is the matter, suddenly laughing like that? Don’t tell me you are on a cat powder high as well?

Elbert: It’s not that. It’s just... I was remembering how you dote on cats, even when you act more like one than the cats themselves.

Alfons: I’m afraid you have me ever so slightly lost with that train of thought...

Elbert: I mean, when I think you saved that cat who had trouble getting down,

E: you would push it away when it got too close.

E: And when I think you have petted it... you pretend you don’t know them...

E: And when they’re going through a hard time, you are there by their side... but then, when they’re not going through such times, you try your best to distance yourself.

Alfons: ...You are quite an observant one, aren’t you. So? Would you mind telling me why you look so happy then?

Elbert: Because... I think that side of you is wonderful, Al.

Alfons: ......Is this your attempt to woo me?

Elbert: ...? No, I didn’t mean to woo you.

Alfons: Yes, I knew that from the start, so please don’t take my words so earnestly.

A: ...Elbie, how would you like to play a little game with me?

Elbert: Game...?

Alfons pulled out a coin from his pocket, flipping it in the air with his finger.

Then, when the coin fell atop the back of his hand, he covered it with the other.

Elbert: I guess, I’ll bet tails then.

Alfons: And that leaves me with heads.

A: If it is tails, as you say, then I win. Otherwise, it’s yours.

Elbert: So, the one who guessed wrong wins... somehow, it feels like it should be the opposite.

Alfons: Well, you can think of it as playing with a ‘mirror’ that is myself. And so, that which is incorrect becomes the correct choice, and conversely, the correct choice becomes incorrect.

Elbert: What will you do if you win?

Alfons: Let’s see now...

A: I suppose, if I win, I will go on a journey to the edge of the world.

On the back of Alfons’ hand, the coin——showed heads.

Alfons: And once again, it is my loss.

A: Truly, when it comes to making the wrong choices, there is no one who can hold a candle to you.

A: ...I realize this is sorely belated, but is it alright if I ask you one question?

Elbert: ...What is it?

Alfons: The day we first met, when I suddenly appeared before you, what made you want to take me into the manor?

Elbert: ......

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full masterlist 🍎🪞

[bleuczennie]

park jisung scenario bcs im so jisung deprived okay IMAGINE; jisung as the type of boyfriend with physical touch as love language. he loves to kiss you, cheeks, nose, forehead, neck??? name it all! imagine him kissing while sniffing your cheeks because he adores you so much even when you’re just talking about random stuff and his hands??? he always have to touch you; need to feel your presence! so whenever you’re laying and doing nothing, his hands would creep under your boobs or even your boobs?? bcs apparently he also has titties kink!! playing with it and you’re just so used to it bcs what park jisung wants, park jisung gets. okay bye i love him so much your honor 🥹

jisung is soooo the cuddly and clingy type of boyfriend, in the most adorable way. he’s grown so accustomed to your warmth and affection that he needs to be touching you somehow, anyhow to truly feel at peace.

currently he’s got you sat in between his legs, back flushed against his chest as he leans back against the headboard of your very generously sized bed. king sized because, why not? a movie plays softly in the background, randomized banter being shared between the main characters as jisung clutches you impossibly closer. the large air diffuser inaudibly whizzing at the corner of the room, filling the space with a sweet lavender scent as you relax in his embrace.

you go on and on about your busy day working at your new job, munching on a new plate of chocolate covered strawberries that jisung had made for you earlier and de-stressing as his nimble fingers knead your body in various spots. his head is buried in your neck, breathing in your scent in between short nods and responses to your storytelling. he is filled with content, knowing just how much you adore the delectable treat especially when he makes it.

jisung’s large hands continue to rub your stomach, paying extra attention to the little pudge that sits comfortably at the bottom of your abdomen. his other hand travels up under your shirt mischievously, enveloping a free boob securely in the palm of his hand.

this doesn’t really take you by surprise, because you’re well aware of jisung’s little fixation on your breasts. no matter the size, jisung loves them so much and never misses a chance to hold them.

you halt your story anyways, turning your head slightly to playfully glare at him through the corners of your eyes. he raises his head up from your neck and grins at you from ear to ear like a child, planting a big kiss on your cheek. his kiss lingers before he plants another one closer to your ear, trailing kisses higher and higher on your face till he reaches your hair, inhaling a the sweet scent of you before he plants a kiss directly on your hair. you erupt in a fit of giggles, wriggling in his hold as you fight the tickling sensation of his soft lips on your face and his hands on your body.

“continue the story, angel” he murmurs, his deep voice coaxing you to quiet your laughter. you lean back onto his chest, and with a deep breath you fall back into your story. the smile never leaves your lips though, the apples of your cheeks burning from the constant smile that graces your face. you stuff another strawberry in your mouth as jisung’s hands continue it’s ministrations on your body.

you let them rest there like you always do; whatever ji wants, you’re more than willing to let him have.

i hope you like this anonny 💘

[greetings-and-salutations]

“There’s Plenty of Kish in The Sea, Right?”

Fred Weasley x Reader Part 1

Day 8 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: Cedric wants to be a champion. (Y/n) wants him to live to see the end of the school year. Freddie just wants to be (Y/n)’s boyfriend…

Warnings: starred out swear words, jealous Freddie, Angst-kinda

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader (you’re a Hufflepuff)

(Y/n/n) - your nickname

The room was practically buzzing with anticipation. Dinner had been over and done with for what felt like ages, and yet no one had dared move from their seats. They remained, waiting. Because tonight was a big night. Tonight the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang would find out who had been chosen to compete in this years Triwizard Tournament.

“Calm down, Ced.” (Y/n) tried, her housemate and best friend practically bouncing in his seat, the anxiety flowing off of him in almost visible waves. (Y/n) herself was substantially less nervous, seeing as how her birthday wasn’t for a few more months and she was therefore ineligible for the event. Not that she’d have entered, anyhow. She valued her life, thank you very much. Cedric, however…

“I can’t help it (Y/n)! This is a huge deal! Finally, my chance to make something of myself… Ever since Harry got here it’s like I’m not good enough anymore and-“ Cedric ran his fingers through his hair in distress, (Y/n) frowning at his words, cutting him off with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Okay, calm down.” She ordered, the boy turning his body to look at her as she continued, knowing full well the true reasoning behind his nerves, and not liking his self-deprecation one bit… “Look, I know you want to make your dad proud, Ced. But, he loves you. And I’m sure he’ll love you just as much even if you don’t get chosen.” She ran her hand along his back in what she hoped were soothing circles, to which she was proven correct when the taller lad sunk into her embrace with a sigh.

“Thanks, (Y/n/n)… I suppose you’re right…” He mumbled, resting his head on her shoulder. (Y/n) chucked in response.

“Aren’t I always?” She asked, earning herself a playful shove back which had them both giggling. “You know, I’m still not even sure what would posses a person to want to do something like this.” (Y/n) noted, running her hand through Cedric’s hair mindlessly, as she voiced her thoughts on the tournament for what was quite possibly the millionth time. Previously, it had been in an attempt to talk the older boy out of it, though, more currently, it was simply out of spite, as there was nothing anyone could do once his name had been entered. Not that (Y/n) thought that out of all the names he’d get picked. Of course she wouldn’t be telling him that. He seemed so excited about it all. And it would be much easier to deal with a Cedric that was mad at the system for not choosing him than one mad at his best friend for not believing in him. No matter that the choice seemed relatively random…

Cedric just hummed, most likely to humor her strong opinions at this point, but (Y/n) didn’t mind, as she continued on.

“I was talking to Hermione and she said-“

“Shh!!! It’s starting!” Well, then…

+ + +

“Ahh the trusty old ‘stare at her until she notices you’ trick. Works every time.” George joked from beside Fred, who sent him the nastiest glare he could muster up, before returning his attention to the Hufflepuff across the room. He just couldn’t help it. She was gorgeous. Fred had been pretty much head-over-heels in love with her since they’d been paired up for potions the first day of third year. And, much to his twin brothers amusement, he’d been fairly useless as a human being around her ever since. It’s not like Fred meant to become a stuttering mess of a man every time he was within a ten foot radius of the girl. Under normal circumstances, he could flirt his way out of a jail sentence if he really wanted to. Fred was fairly proud of this fact. But, with (Y/n), it was like he was putty in her hands. And it was incredibly infuriating…

“Shove off, mate.” Fred grumbled, finally turning his attention away from the Hufflepuff table and back to the world around him when Cedric Diggory dropped his head to rest so f*cking adorably on (Y/n)’s shoulder. Fred briefly entertained the idea of a ‘disappearing’ prank on the older bloke, but, upon the realization that that was insane, opted to simply pout at the tabletop in front of him. A nudge from his other side gained his attention away from the wood grain, however, and Fred turned to Lee with a raised brow. “What?”

“You need to loosen up, Freddie. It’s one girl. What’s that muggle saying? ‘There’s plenty of kish in the sea’?” Lee offered, confusing the sh*t out of pretty much everyone present, before George made to correct him.

“‘Fish in the sea.’ ‘There’s plenty of fish in the sea’, mate.” He said, though nobody could hold in their snickers as Lee crossed his arms across his chest defensively. Even Fred managed a small smile before returning to a neutral expression (that one might consider rather downcast for the guy in question) when Lee jumped to his own defense.

“I’m pretty sure it was ‘kish.’” He argued, clearly causing George’s annoyance to grow, while Fred remained relatively unbothered. He wasn’t looking for a different ‘fish’ or ‘kish’ anyhow. He just wanted (Y/n)…

“Why the bloody hell would it be ‘kish’? What the f*ck is a ‘kish in the sea.’” George complained loudly, unintentionally firing Lee up more. Fred rolled his eyes.

“A good snog. Lip locking. Spit sharing. You know, a ‘kish.’” He enunciated his point with a loud smack of his own lips followed by a cheeky grin that probably meant he was proud of himself, for what, Fred didn’t know. That was just about the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, and he’d been sharing a house with Ron for the last fourteen years…

“You’re an absolute idiot.”

“Hey, you’re one to talk!”

“Why don’t you say that to my face, huh!?”

“You think I won’t!?”

“Get to it, then!”

“I will-“

“Shut up, you tossers! It’s starting!” Fred almost yelled, interrupting the fighting boys when he noticed Dumbledore making his way towards the goblet at the other end of the Hall. Finally. Something to distract him…

+ + +

“Cedric Diggory!”

W-what?

The table around (Y/n) felt like it was shaking. Hufflepuffs of all ages clapping and pounding on the hard wood in support of their champion. Of Cedric…

“(Y/n/n)!” And suddenly her feet were off the ground, her best friends arms wrapped around her tightly as he swung the younger girl around in his excitement, one that she could, regrettably, not join him in.

Cedric was going to compete in the triwizard tournament... The triwizard tournament… The incredibly dangerous triwizard tournament… Cedric…

“Oh my…” (Y/n) barely managed to breathe out, in complete and utter disbelief of the situation. Meanwhile, Cedric was practically glowing.

“I did it!” He spoke ecstatically into her ear as he put her back down on her own two feet, the biggest grin (Y/n) had ever seen spread across his face. It dimmed slightly, however, when he noticed her own worried expression, and realized that she did not share in his joy.

“Hey…” He mumbled, pulling her back in for another hug, though this one considerably calmer, which (Y/n) was grateful for. “I’m gonna be okay… I’m gonna win this thing. Yeah?” He whispered so softly (Y/n) wouldn’t have been able to hear him had he not been so close.

Now, she didn’t know how much she believed him, the concern for her friend eating away at the girl immensely, but (Y/n) gave him her best smile and nod anyway, knowing that all she could do at this point was support him. Merlin knows he’s going to need it…

“I’ve gotta go with the other champions but I’ll see you later, Okay?” And (Y/n) nodded again, holding her expression for as long as she could, before finally sighing in relief when he turned, and she could drop the act and allow herself to wallow in her true feelings. God, if she hadn’t been before, she surely was nervous now…

And that was all before the boy who lived was announced as the fourth champion…

+ + +

Could this day get any worse?

Fred thought not, as the current residents of the Great Hall all sprang to their feet and began chatting animatedly about the events that had just transpired. But Fred remained stationary in his seat, grip so tight on the tables edge that, had he cared, he’d be worried he might break it.

But Fred’s mind was elsewhere, going a mile a minute in just about a million different directions.

Cedric was the Hogwarts champion…

Harry put his name in the Goblet of Fire…

Cedric was all over (Y/n) when they called his name…

Why didn’t Harry tell George and I how to put ours in?

(Y/n) looked so worried when Cedric walked off to join the other champions…

Why doesn’t she look at me like that?

“You good, mate?” Fred heard George ask from beside him, but he didn’t answer. What could he say? “No, actually. I’m incredibly offended that the girl I like seems to fancy another guy, even though I’ve given her absolutely no reason to think I’m interested in her because I can’t f*cking talk to her without sounding like a complete and utter doof.” Yeah, that would be real helpful…

“Sorry, spaced.” Fred mumbled dumbly before finally getting to his feet. “I’m tired. Let’s go on up.”

Fred knew George was looking at him funny, but he didn’t have the energy to care, as the pair made their way out of the Hall, Fred, for the first time in over two years, not sparing a single glance at the Hufflepuff table…

There’s plenty of kish in the sea, right?

TO BE CONTINUED

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @missryerye @kaqua @miaandthediamonds @lolawassad @nani-2305 @etanordoesbullsh1t

[luveline]

hi!! hope you’re doing well and having a fantastic december so far <3 do you think maybe you would write something with James where the reader has always kind of been in toxic relationships where sex was the only way to move on from or get past a fight, and he like kind of rejects that and tries to (super gently and kindly) teach her how to talk about it in a healthy way and work through it together? i just think it could be cute :) ily!

hi! tysm, i hope you are too, ily <3 i think i focused in on the wrong thing but i hope you like it anyhow!!! cw past unhealthy relationships + conversation about sex 18+ mdni ♥︎ fem!reader 1.5k

James is practically radiating anger across the room. You can tell he's trying not to show it.

You're angry too, of course, but you're more scared than anything. Not of James (he'd probably rather die than hurt you, and you know that) but of the possibility that you might break up. 

It feels irrational and rational at once. He'd sounded so mad. He'd sounded hurt, which was worse. You'd made a snarky comment you now regret about his never being home because he's always at training, and he'd argued how this wasn't fair because rugby was literally his job, and you'd said it wasn't fair that you never saw him. So on and so forth, the argument had devolved into your saying stuff you didn't explicitly mean, backed into a corner, and James being upset because of it. You'd said… a lot of stuff that wasn't really true, and you'd accused James of not caring about you. 

That's what blew his top. 

You understand why he's mad about it. If he said the same to you, you'd be livid. But you don't really know how to fix it. 

Well, you do. Though James isn't looking at you like they would, no expectancy, no Well, aren't you going to say sorry? 

He's stationed himself on the sofa, elbows to his knees and facing the floor. While his anger is slipping, hurt and frustration are evident in his hunched posture. You stand up from the arm opposite where you'd been perched and take the few steps needed to close the distance, sitting primly by James' side. 

He's kind. He turns to look at you as soon as you settle, and it's with an openness that makes your mouth dry. In your head, you're thinking that this is more than salvageable, that James will fuck you and forgive you and that if you do a good enough job, he'll spend more time with you during the week. 

You put your hand on his knee, feeling the slightly tensed muscles underneath. 

"Jamie," you murmur, one part apologetic, one part something else, "I'm sorry." 

He holds your eye and then sighs inaudibly. 

You keep talking. You don't want him to get mad again, or impatient. "Really sorry, and…" Your hand inches upward. "I can make it up to you." 

He stiffens ever so slightly. You really hate that, unsure and unhappy and thinking maybe you can't fix anything after all. You pull your hand away, worried you've made him uncomfortable. He must see the flash of concern on your face as he sits up properly. 

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes on his leg. "I thought…" 

"That we would kiss and make up?" 

His sudden response startles you, but James doesn't sound as mad as you'd imagined. "No," you say quickly, although that is exactly what you'd thought. "No, but I- I-" 

You flounder for the right thing to say, embarrassed beyond words with the beginnings of panicked tears in your eyes. 

James' hand is warm as he places it on your shoulder, and his expression much softer than it had been. 

"Is that something you've done before?" he asks. 

"You don't want to?"

He can likely hear how mortified you are. His hand climbs to the curve of your neck as he shifts toward you, his knee pressed into yours. 

You perk up and immediately realise you've read the signs wrong again. James isn't going to kiss you. He's letting you down easy, which means he doesn't want to make up. 

You backtrack hard. "James- I swear, I'm sorry, and I won't- I won't complain again. I know you have to go, and I know it's selfish to expect you not to. I won't mention it again." 

You drift off, hoping he has something to say. 

He stares at you for a beat that's too long. 

"Sweetheart," he says finally, so softly, "back up a second, okay? I'm just trying to understand here. Did you think you had to have sex with me to say sorry?" 

You wince and lean away.

"Because you don't have to. Ever." 

You didn't think you had to have sex, but you're out of your depth here. You don't really know where to go from this point. "I know," you say weakly.

"Do you?" James asks, offering you his hand palm up over your thigh.

You take it like a lifeline. 

"I don't think that it's a good solution to our problem," he says. 

"What's our problem?" 

"We're not on the same page." 

You have never felt this awkward around James. To read the signs so wrong, to come onto him when he doesn't want it. "I'm sorry, for trying to-" 

He squeezes your fingers. "Hey, don't be. Is it okay if I talk for a little bit?" You nod stiffly. "Alright… I'm not sure what you've- what's happened before, but I want to say that you don’t have to feel like you need to apologise in that way with me, because it should be on your terms completely, always. You know?" He weighs your expression. He can't find what he's looking for, because he continues. "With us, I don't want sex to be a kind of," — he searches for the right word — "currency. I don't want that for you." Again, his voice turns soft as silk. He massages your fingers with his lovingly. "Understand?" 

"Yeah, I understand." 

His eyebrows pull together. "I'm not mad at you, angel. It was a misunderstanding." 

"I feel so-" Silly. Icky, immature. You shake your head. "I'm sorry." 

You're still trying to soak in what he's said. He doesn't need sex to know you're sorry. It takes a second, but you realise how nice that feels.

"It's okay, you don't have to be sorry. I just needed to make sure you knew. We might be fighting but you're still my girl, right?" 

Your throat aches as you say, "Right." 

He leans in a little closer. His voice quietens. "I'm sorry someone made you feel like you had to do that, sweetheart. Really. There are better ways to work through it." 

Tears come on so suddenly they're dripping off your jaw before you comprehend that you're crying at all, heavy teardrops that bump down your cheeks fiercely. 

James is as surprised as you to see them, and he proves to you how big his heart is for the second time in as many minutes when he starts wiping and kissing away your tears, placating you with little murmurs and reassurances. 

"It's okay," he says quietly, hand splayed behind your neck. 

You hide away in his neck. Embarrassment rolls hot over your skin and still you can't get the tears to stop. This is possibly the most whirlwind you've ever been in front of him, and you know how lucky you are to be treated so delicately through it all. 

"I'm sorry," you say again, thick with tears and genuinely appalled by your inability to stop crying. 

"Don't be sorry, my love," he says, quiet still. 

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." 

He scrubs his hand up and down your arm. "You didn't. I was more surprised than anything. I think… all the best make up sex comes after the making up, yeah? When we're both happy, and when we both want it because we want each other. Not because you feel like you need to." 

You mean to say thank you, but "I love you," comes out instead, all sniffly and scratchy. 

"I love you, too. You know that." 

You're lucky enough to say that you do. James surprises you, as that is by no means the end of the conversation. He talks about things you should've talked about a while ago, and he makes a lot of things clear. That sex isn't something you ever have to do. Not to make up, not because you owe him anything, and not because you think it's expected. And all these things are normal — they're, as James says, the bare minimum, but he doesn't understand. They may sound like the bare minimum to some, but you've never actually had them before. He apologises for that, too. 

And after, you talk about the argument. James tries to express his frustration, how he'd only been trying to resolve the issue, and you're gutted when you understand. You'd let insecurity guide you and you'd exacerbated the fight. Made it something that it wasn't. 

James assures you that it's okay. 

"I said stuff I didn't mean as well," he says. "Everybody does that." 

You talk it out. When you do have make up sex, it's much later, and it's because you want to. James must ask "Are you sure?" twenty times, and he insists on being able to see your face. You don't mind. 

He's right. All the best make up sex does come after the making up, not in place of it. 

—

to clarify this isn't me dogging on all make up sex, just in situations where the reader felt like she had to because it was the only way to make up, as requested <3

[tmntxthings]

∑一 Do You Realize?・゜・。

author’s notes: idk what to say & also idk what i wrote, i was floating during this XD but we post anyhow

warnings: fluff, slice of life, flirt, cursing? unedited asf, suggestive perhaps??? if you squint?? or maybe like peanut butter a lot???

song: “ Do You Realize?? by The Flaming Lips ”

—————————————————————————

Michelangelo was quiet as he ate his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Though it was more peanut butter than jelly. Which really may have been even more disturbing than the silence. Who in their right mind liked the way it got stuck in the roof of their mouth?

“…”

You munched on your own sandwich. A proportionate amount of pb and j on either bread slice. After swallowing you decided to speak up.

“What?”

His response was immediate after a blink or two.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah but I know you’ve got something to say,”

He goes back to that odd quietness again. His fingers squeezing onto the sandwich too tightly. Peanut butter getting all over his hands. Well. Even more so than before. Truthfully he had been sticking his fingers in the jar to eat it raw earlier.

“…it’s weird.”

A teasing tone came from your voice as you nudged your shoulder with his.

“Can’t be weirder than eating peanut butter with your fingers.”

“Hey!” An offended lilt heard from Mikey. But it couldn’t be helped!

“Just kidding..” “Mostly..” You offered as a compromise. His head tilted from side to side, seeming to let it go in favor of the initial conversation.

“Well, I was just thinking about how we’re all gonna die one day.” Now you hadn’t been expecting that. Not at all. Mikey had his weird quips. But this was darker than most! You wondered if his favorite pizza place had been demolished again offhandedly before saying the first word that came to your mind.

“Oh?” But it didn’t stop there!

“And that, I’d just hope you’d be around when it happens for me.”

Now that was just too much. It was sad. It was sweet. It was all wrapped up in emotions that had you looking Mikey in the eyes, pb fingers and all and giving him a small smile.

“Damn..” Again you were at a lack of words here. You wished you could say more. In fact you should’ve just said, ‘same’ or ‘me too Mikey’ or anything other than something so meaningless.

“Yeah, weird right?” He didn’t seem put off by your lack of response. His eyes had met yours, returning the smile before looking back down at his food. Taking another bite.

“A little, but not the strangest thing ever.” Which was true. You had to endure Leo after all. And he said random shit all the time. Though not as philosophical. Maybe Donnie would be closer to this category.

“Also!” Mikey spoke up around his bite.

“Oh there’s more?” You pop the last bite into your mouth. Dusting off the crumbs on your fingers on the paper plate below. Reaching for the bottle of water that had sat untouched since the two of you had sat down for the midnight snack.

“Yeah! I was also thinking about how life goes by super fast, and all the good moments too, it’s the bad ones that tend to drag out. I just wonder why that is.” This was longer, and even more confusing than the first.

“Hmm” Your eyebrows went together, thinking of what to say. Holding off for longer than before. But your mind was still blank. The thoughts weren’t weird, in fact you felt they were true. But..“I couldn’t even begin to try and pretend that I know the answer,”

“Yeah,” Mikey sighed in agreement. It was something he couldn’t answer too.

“And another thing!”

It seemed Mikey was on a roll tonight. You propped your elbow up on the table. Letting your hand cup your cheek as you leaned into it. Pushing the paper plate away from underneath you. “Mhm?” You listened intently. Well you thought you had been. Because you got some words but not the others as you watched his eyes rather than his lips.

You caught words like, “face” “happiness” “realize” It all didn’t really make much sense. But his eyes, the way they lighted up as you paid attention. It was so endearing. Unlike the rest of him that was green and orange, and okay he had splashes of other colors with his stickers too. But his eyes. They held a mixture of such a striking red and a mellow amber. It was far from anything you had ever seen, much like the turtle himself. Entrancing.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said did you?” He mused. And you were caught red handed as you sheepishly tried to play it off, listing the words you did catch with a bit of embarrassment. “Well that just won’t do, listen close okay?” Mikey said and his hands went up as if to cup your face, but he still had peanut butter covering them so instead you held onto his wrists, nodding in confirmation.

“Do you realize that you have the most beautiful smile? The one when you’re especially happy?” You squeezed his wrists, giving him a rueful expression. Was he being serious? Of course he was! He was smiling at your bashfulness, but nothing in his stare said he was playing you. “Thanks for enlightening me,” you say, though the blush can’t be helped.

“Your welcome!” And he had the audacity to wink as he took one peanut butter covered finger and stuck it in his mouth. You blinked. How could he go from borderline flirting to— to?!? Whatever he was doing now??? Eating obliviously?? It was times like these where you wondered. The lower half of your face hidden behind a hand pressed against your mouth. Trying to cover that embarrassingly bright blush. You wondered if Mikey actually did know what he was doing, and he was just a damn good actor at pretending not to know.

As you recomposed yourself, lost in thoughts like those. You didn’t pay any mind to Mikey turning slightly to the side and winking at no one in particular.

Yeah he knew. And yeah he does it on purpose.

;D

—————————————————————————

[pineappleciders]

Hello! I hope your doing great.

Can I request RW omori characters with a reader who can be very slow at things like the reader is a slow learner?

RW OMORI characters with a slow reader

includes: SUNNY, AUBREY, KEL, HERO, MARI, and BASIL

SUNNY

he's pretty patient, but he might just let someone else explain things to you as he doesn't like to talk a lot. he might act all frustrated to joke around but in reality he doesn't care, similar to how he is with kel

he thinks he's slow, so he doesn't judge anyone else for it

(he's actually incredibly smart, just doesn't put a lot of effort into it! he'll help you with schoolwork if you're struggling, although he might get a little frustrated)

might just stare at you until you understand whatever he's trying to say. he means it lightheartedly but you have to admit it's a little scary

he doesn't really care though. he doesn't have anywhere to be so you can take your time.

AUBREY

she might get a little frustrated sometimes, specifically if you don't get social queues right away or if you fail to pick up what she's putting down

anytime she gets angry or says something mean to you though, it's lighthearted. she's so used to bantering with kel that she might accidentally do it with you

so she might call you a moron every now and then but it's force of habit, she doesn't actually think you're stupid.

she also feels slow sometimes, like when she doesn't catch on something or if she's doing bad in school. she is generally really smart but screws up sometimes

AUBREY actually really enjoys study sessions with you. she's a good teacher and even though she might tease you occasionally, she's genuine and doesn't judge you

KEL

KEL can also be very slow. he isn't exactly stupid, he just prefers to act dumber to avoid the responsibilities of being smart. he is a little slow though LOL

sometimes you two just have moments where you both have no idea what's going on and you just kinda look at each other and giggle

HERO might force you two to study together in things you're falling behind in ... although those study sessions more often than not just turn into playing games or goofing off

he never gets upset if you need more time to process something or need him to explain it again. he really doesn't mind! he can sit there all day re-explaining everything

overall he doesn't even notice that you're slower than everyone else. out of everyone he relates the most! if you feel unheard or anything he's quick to listen and pat you on the back and give a pep speech

HERO

HERO isn't what i'd call slow, but he does have moments sometimes where he needs a second to take it all in. like you say something to him and 10 seconds later he goes "what?"

other than that, he's at the top of his class!!! if you're struggling with homework he's always willing to help.

he doesn't get frustrated with you but he might chuckle desperately and scratch his head when you ask how to do something for the 100th time

HERO's a patient person. he often had to watch over KEL when they were younger, and lord knows how patient he had to be sometimes

but he still loves KEL dearly!! he doesn't think anyone's worth is anyhow related to their intelligence or speedy thinking. he thinks everyone has it inside them, and they just have to apply themselves!!

(easy for him to say)

MARI

she might get frustrated if she thinks you're deliberately trying to be a class clown, but other than that she's very patient!!!

she'll explain everything in detail to you, eventually she'll just give up and demonstrate it

might tease you for it, but stops if you don't like it

she's never really been one to judge anyone for stuff like being slow in school. if anything she was one of KEL's biggest supporters! she was always there for him when nobody else took him seriously

so same goes for you! she'll listen intently to any frustrations and will try to help you academically with certain areas she's good at. overall she doesn't get frustrated easily but might scold you for being silly

BASIL

he might chuckle awkwardly like hero if he needs to keep explaining something to you but he really doesn't mind!

will help you with homework if you need it, he's pretty smart

sometimes he feels slow himself , though he really isn't. if anything he's fast, not necessarily at the top of his class but he does a very good job of analyzing and recognizing

i like to think he's rlly good with geometry so if you hate that he'll absolutely tutor you. if you ever find yourself struggling with an upcoming test he'll gladly stay up with you all night to study, even if he's exhausted

it's soso difficult to see BASIL get angry,, you literally never have to worry about him getting frustrated with you. literal angel

however he will shoot daggers into the back of anyone who shittalks you,,, he'll diffuse a conflict between you and them while secretly praying on their downfall

[chaosduckies]

Restoration (Chapter 8)

A bunch of scenes because why not? On another note, it is extremely hard to write a scene in winter when it’s the middle of April. I hope you enjoy anyhow! Because now I’m really getting into the plot.

Word Count: 5.9k

CW: Death, crying, vague thoughts of suicide, severe trauma, (anything else idk??)

8-Ryker

It was Thanksgiving break. The first official break from school until Christmas. Words could not describe how grateful I was for the week-long break. There was no reason to have so much work piled up a couple weeks before the end of first semester. 

I was laying in my bed on my phone. It was about to turn six, which meant I should probably get started on dinner, but I just couldn’t bring myself to climb out of bed. I was physically and mentally tired of keeping up with everyone and whatever plans they had with their friends, taking care of Isabelle and Angela since they were still little, and on top of that keep up with the chores around the house. 

I grabbed my phone off the charger, stretched out my arms and legs from laying down, and opened my door to get started on dinner. The living room was oddly quiet, with Dylan and Lucky playing a game. Isabelle playing a game with Angela on the carpet that consisted of a bunch of stuffed animals and blankets. I smiled to myself. 

“What do you guys feel like eating for dinner?” I leaned against the kitchen island, waiting for an answer. 

“Spaghetti!” Isabelle and Angela answered at the time, giggling at one another. I think I could do that. I don’t know if Lucky can though. It was the first weekend of the break and I’d probably need to go grocery shopping tomorrow anyways. 

I looked in Dylan’s direction, making them pause whatever they were playing together. He just shrugged his shoulders, “Whatever’s easier for you.” Always with the same response. 

“Ummm, I can go check what we have.” Lucky told me, getting Dylan to let him onto the floor. All I could do was wait now. Jasmine was staying over at her friends today and tomorrow. I just told her to text me if she goes anywhere far and if she needed anything. Weird, right? Usually the parent handles these kinds of things, but in the situation my siblings and I are in it’s literally impossible. 

Lucky came back, shaking his head, “We don’t have the things for spaghetti,” He laid down on the arm rest of the couch and grabbed his remote, “You should call Nathan to come over. He hasn’t been here in a while. Plus, he’s so much better at cooking than I am. Right, Angela?” 

“Yeah!” 

I bit the side of my cheek. I don’t know about that. Just asking Nathan to come over to cook and then ask him to leave? That was wrong. Plus, he told me before the break that he’ll be pretty busy. Or… texted me. Either way, I shouldn’t bother him. Maybe he actually has a meal with his family for Thanksgiving and they were all getting ready for it already. On the other hand, Lucky makes something else for him and Angela, Angela doesn’t eat, and then everything goes downhill from there. 

Looking at my phone, I picked it up, opening the messages app, and clicked on Nathan’s name. The last time he came here, Jasmine did kind of freak him out. I remember him not being able to leave anyone’s side if she was in the room. I wonder if he’d even want to come over after that. At school the next day he was a little nervous, but otherwise fine afterward, but I’m sure whatever Jasmine told him is still stuck in his mind. Ugh. This was such a bad idea. 

Ryker: I have a huge favor to ask you 

I waited for a response, watching Dylan and Lucky play a fighting game against one another. I had no idea who was winning, but I’m pretty sure it was Lucky. Actually… it was kind of weird how Lucky seemed to want Nathan around more often. Like, really weird. Especially when every time Nathan came, he would practically ditch him with me. I honestly don’t mind, I liked having Nathan come over, but still. I had wondered why, but I wasn’t going to ask. 

Nathan: Yeah?

Ryker: Do you mind coming over to help Lucky cook something? 

Ryker: You don’t have to 

Well, if he says no Lucky will have to make whatever he can and I’d have to break the news to Angela. If you didn’t know, four year olds can be a little hard to deal with sometimes. So, this might just turn out to be a very, very bad day. 

Nathan: Sure! 

Nathan: Anything specific?

I stared at his text, relief washing over me. Dylan let out a cheer from winning against Lucky. Wow. Perfect timing. I was just so grateful right now. Nathan was literally the greatest friend ever. Now I have to think of someway to thank him. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? 

Ryker: They wanted spaghetti

Ryker: And thank you  

Nathan: No problem :)

Ryker: I guess I’ll be at the bus stop in about twenty minutes? 

Nathan: Okay 

I stuffed my phone in my pocket, “Okay, I’ll be right back, just text me if something happens.” I told Dylan, who nodded his head. And with that, I walked out the door and into the cold air. 

———Nathan———

Winters in the city were bad. But not as bad as when we were still help captive. Now those days were terrible. Horrifying even. It was still freakishly cold here. Not something I enjoy. For several reasons really. One being that I already get cold really easily. Two, I just hated being cold and sick. And the most important reason being that it was during this kind of weather when my dad had died. Actually, in three days it’s officially been nine years since my dad died. November 24. A long time, right? 

It hurts. The memories. Not just of him but how they brutally murdered him in front of his own child. I shuddered at the sight pictured in my mind. Nope. Can’t think about that. Right now I should probably be getting ready to head over to the bus stop. I already had packed a tiny bag with the things I needed to cook. Weird enough, it was kind of a therapy for me at this point. To be cooking I mean. I guess that’s why my mom always gets worried when I’m baking for no reason. Because she knows. 

I sighed, giving my mom a quick text that I was heading over to Ryker’s for a little while. The last time I went, I thought everything was going great before Jasmine talked to me alone. everyone had left to go looking for something and it was just her and I. I was scared of course. We’ve never, ever talked before and from what I’ve gathered she’s really intimidating. 

Her exact words to me were: “If you hurt my brother in any way I will personally murder you.” and that was was it took for me to have an entire mental breakdown for nearly two weeks. I mean, who wouldn’t be scared if someone’s sibling threatened you like that? So, the week before the break, I might have been acting a little weird around Ryker, afraid that I might actually do something wrong or hurt him in any way, which I don’t really see how I could. 

Otherwise, I haven’t really been doing anything. I told Ryker that I would be busy during the break, but really I wasn’t. Only because I do actually have something to do on November 24, and I was already feeling the depression spikes as the day came closer and closer. As for Thanksgiving itself, my mom and I never do anything. Last year we were barely getting used to being in the mental hospital so we didn’t really do anything. This year she’s working so it’ll just be me. Nothing new. 

I made my way down the icy streets, the sun setting faster and faster. It was only getting colder, and I didn’t really have a winter jacket. Just some to wear in the classroom like when it’s freezing in there. So, yeah, I was basically freezing my face off. Not to mention that my mom told me it might snow later tonight since it was already under twenty degrees outside. I wasn’t used to cold weather. 

Once I made it to the bus stop, I snuggled up with my bag on the bench, trying to have some kind of warmth. Also because there were several people (giants) who were going back home from stores or getting off of work. The bus stop was actually used for both humans and giants. The human was a little ways from the huge one that was practically as tall as a skyscraper. Maybe taller. 

My hands were shaky from the cold, but it was only another five minutes before Ryker would come and hopefully I wouldn’t be as cold. Maybe. Hopefully. I don’t know what today has in store for me. All I knew was that I just wanted to wrap myself in a blanket with some hot chocolate and binge watch something on tv. 

Ryker came a few minutes later, smiling and giving a thanks before offering a hand. I threw the bag on first before struggling to get on. It was hard when the ground underneath you was starting to freeze over, but I figured it out after trying for a good minute. 

“You’re freezing.” Ryker told me, cupping his hand just a little. Sure, it was scary to have his fingers closer to me, but still, it was warm. How could I deny something that was practically calling me? 

  “That good?” He smiled, for some reason making sure I was comfortable. But I was not about to complain. I was desperate at this point. I nodded my head, bringing my knees closer to my chest to keep some of my body warmth with me. And yet another reason I hate winter. 

“Thanks again. Sorry for bothering you.” 

I continuously shook my head, hoping he would get the message that it was fine. Plus, I liked going over. Everyone was nice (Besides Jasmine I’m pretty sure she hates me) and never really tried to do anything too crazy with me. It was great. I’m not as afraid anymore, which was a miracle given I thought I could never trust anyone ever again, and I’ve actually made some friends. 

Ryker opened the door to his house, where we found them all watching a movie together. Everyone turned their heads as soon as the door closed behind Ryker. I jumped slightly, but relaxed after a while. Nothing to be afraid of. Dylan’s eyes landed on me, giving a smile and a two fingered wave. I waved back, but I doubt he could see it. 

I was set down on the ground, not entirely expecting to be in a tight hug the second I balanced myself. Lucky bursted out laughing, letting me go, “You are literally the best, Nathan.” I laughed with him, following Lucky into the room. 

——————

I didn’t eat anything. I wasn’t hungry. Of course Ryker tried to convince me to eat something, but I always answered no. Otherwise, dinner was okay. They had Lucky, Angela and I on the coffee table, which wasn’t really too big of a deal. I’m pretty sure Ryker and Dylan just didn’t want to handle any humans while they were eating, and hey, I was not about to say anything about it. There are just some things that will never leave my mind. 

After everyone ate, Dylan and Lucky started playing a game on the tv while Isabelle and Angela were playing hide and seek I’m pretty sure. I just hoped that no one would get hurt, but Ryker quickly reassured me that they would never harm one another. I just had to believe him. Most of his siblings are stuck together like glue. Which is a good thing. 

“It’s supposed to start snowing in a little bit.” Ryker announced, earning cheers from the other room where I was guessing Angela and Isabelle were. I was sitting on the arm rest of the couch by Ryker. I kind of wished that their house was a little warmer, because I was still annoyingly cold, but beggars can’t be choosers. I should have asked to grab a blanket. 

“Nice. Are we gonna go out?” Dylan asked, eyes glued to the screen. I had no idea who was winning, but I think it was him. 

“If you want to.” 

Ryker threw his phone on the other side of the couch, turning his head to the screen. I don’t want to go outside, but I’ll go if that makes things easier. I just don’t want to be in the snow. Reasons. Remember? 

It was about ten minutes later that it did actually start snowing. Angela and Isabelle were begging Ryker to let them outside, which he just laughed to and told them to get jackets on and to bring their hats. Dylan paused their game to go get on a jacket, and Ryker left to go help Isabelle. So I was alone in the living room while everyone was busy to go have some fun. I hated winter. In just three days. I reminded myself. 

What would happen? Would someone else be claimed victim? Something bad always happens during this time. I don’t know if it was just me. It probably was. Everyone else was smiling while I was crying in the corner. It’s how it was in the hospital. They all went outside if they could, and I stayed in my room, under the blankets and shove my face into my pillow to drown out my tears. I couldn’t do that now though. Not when so many people had their eyes on me. Not when a trip back to the hospital was a very viable option for me. I didn’t want to go back. Not because of something… traumatic that happened nine years ago. I should be over it, right? But I’m not. 

There goes one of my depression spells. Great. Just great. At a time like this? I sucked in a deep breath, calming myself down before anyone notices. This was embarrassing. 

Ryker came back into the room, eyes landing on me with an unsure look on his face. He walked up to me, holding a hand out. Was he not going to wear any gloves? He wouldn’t be cold? I stood up, keeping my balance on the soft surface underneath me and walking to climb onto his hand. 

“You don’t mind if I just keep you in my hand, right? I don’t want you to be freezing.” He asked. I shook my head, sitting down in the middle of his palm. That was actually what I preferred. I did not plan whatsoever to go into the snow anyways. 

Once everyone was outside, Ryker sat down on the stairs, cupping his hand and keeping me close. A little uneasy about it, but there was really no reason to be. It’s just instinct. And everything in me right now is saying to get the hell inside. But I wasn’t going to say that. Mostly because I don’t want to be alone.  

They were all screaming and laughing. It was snowing pretty hard too, already covering most of the frosted grass just after ten minutes. Other people were also sitting outside. Their kids playing around with the snow. I tried not to focus on that. Instead, I found myself scooting back slowly, almost to where I couldn’t see the heavy fall of the white flakes. 

My body was still freezing. It was so much colder than before. Was this how dad felt? The cold pricking at his skin I mean. 

“Nathan?” My thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice above me. I groaned, body shaking and stuffing my hands in my pockets to preserve some of my body heat. I shuddered a breath, trembling. It’s so cold… How could they even be having fun like this? I looked ahead, seeing Dylan helping Isabelle make a small snowman with both Angela and Lucky stuffed in his scarf. This was just another one of my depression spells. 

“Still cold?” Ryker asked me. I took a deep breath, “Y-Yeah…” It came out more like a quiet mumble, and I was surprised that he even heard me. Did he want to help them make a snowman? He probably did. I should just tell him to leave me inside. It would make things a million times easier for everyone. 

Ryker moved his hand a bit, making me worried about what he was trying to do, but he just kept it the same. I wondered why he was going through all this trouble just for me. There was really no point. There was only a couple more months until graduation and then we’d go our separate ways. That’s how it always goes. I’d be alone again, figuring out what to do with the rest of my life. That’s how my story goes. 

“Better?” 

I nodded my head, getting to a comfortable position and decided to just watch what they were all doing. Finishing up the head of the snowman. It was comfy even though I was kind of scared from being in someone’s hand. At least now that is. Currently I was just afraid of falling into the deep snow. I’m pretty sure if I fell I’d sink into it. Not something I would like to see or imagine. 

“You okay?” Ryker asked, softly smiling above me. There was no other response other than to nod. I couldn’t just say no. That wouldn’t do any good. But.. maybe if he notices that these next few days would be hard for me. Maybe. Just maybe. I doubt it though. I don’t plan on being here all of the time anyways. I couldn’t. 

Isabelle finished the snowman, grabbing some loose twigs for arms as they stepped back. It was still snowing, just not as much. Was dad watching me right now? Was he shocked just as much as I was? I never thought I’d ever be able to be around another giant for as long as I had lived, and here I am, sitting in one of their hands. Would he think I was crazy? Delusional? Psycho? Happy like my mom even? I would never know, but even I think I was crazy. 

Actually… why did I even trust Ryker? Or really anyone. They’re all so nice of course, but about four months ago I was so sure that every giant would only hurt me, and it almost became true with that lunch incident that felt like forever ago. So why did I trust these people with my life? In the back of my mind I keep thinking that this was all just a sick joke being played on me. But… I don’t think these people are lying about anything. They don’t have a reason to. And Ryker’s been nothing but patient, and kind, and… understanding. No one would go through all that trouble just to fool someone as gullible as me. 

I sighed, snuggling up closer to Ryker’s thumb and watching Isabelle throw snowballs at Dylan who was shielding Lucky and Angela from the crossfire. Was it scary being there? In the midst of everything? Having to trust someone at least fifty times your size to keep you safe? I sucked in a shaky breath, just watching. It wasn’t so bad really. 

———Ryker———

Today was November 24. Thanksgiving was here, and everything was a complete mess. I never learned how to make a turkey like the tradition, so usually I just made something that all of us had liked. Along with that, I had to make sure no one did anything too crazy while I was busy in the kitchen. Jasmine and Dylan were helping out cooking while I ordered something for Lucky and Angela. They both agreed on pizza (Because what else does a fourteen year-old and a four year-old want) so now I was busy with that. That part was mostly because Angela didn’t like when Lucky cooks something different. 

It was just pure chaos now. Everyone was running around the house, and at that point I had to ask Jasmine to keep an eye on Angela to make sure she didn’t wander off where we couldn’t find her. I wasn’t too worried about Lucky since he’s almost always with Dylan, plus he’s smart enough to stay off the floor when it’s something like this. 

I took out the lasagna, letting it cool down before making separate plates. Yeah, I know, super weird, but I can’t do anything better. I only know the basics thanks to my parents, and that was all I needed to know. 

There was a knock on the door, and I asked Dylan to open it. It was just the pizza. I washed whatever dishes I had and called everyone that dinner was ready. It’s days like this where I wished that my parents never left. I feel like I can never be like them even though I was the oldest. I mean, was I just supposed to let CPS split us all apart? I couldn’t do that. My siblings would never forgive me. I like to think that they’re all happy, but I doubt it. Sometimes I feel like I can’t do anything to help any of them. Like I’m doing this “parenting” thing all wrong. Of course I was. I was seventeen in my last year of high school taking care of five kids on my own while also juggling a job and trying to do fun things with them so we can forget about what happened a little over a year ago. There was no reason for one person to be doing all of this. 

It was snowing outside again. Not really surprising when you’ve lived here for your entire life. It was really nice though. I loved the cold. Weird, because most people don’t, but I do. I remember my parents freaking out when I would just be outside making a snowman in just a short sleeve and sweatpants when I was a kid. Of course it was so cold it burned, but I guess I kind of liked it? It was hard to explain. Or sometimes we’d stay inside and watch movies or play a game. I missed it really. 

“Ry.” Jasmine snapped her fingers in front of me to get my attention. I blinked a couple times before giving a clueless look. She groaned, “I asked if I could go shopping tomorrow, I have work the next three days so I just wanna go do something.”

“Oh, um, sure.” 

The tv was playing in the background, but I wasn’t paying attention. Come to think of it, I don’t think I was paying attention to anything. Dylan, Jasmine, and Lucky were all laughing about something. What were they laughing about again? Something about going back to school? I don’t even want to think about that right now. I needed a break anyways. Most of my classes love giving me piles and piles of work anyways. 

I sighed, pushing away my plate that I had barely eaten. The sun has already set, everyone was done eating, Angela asked Jasmine if she could go outside in the snow. She said yes, and so Isabelle followed. Dylan and Lucky were helping me wash the remaining dishes. Honestly I already felt so tired. It was only 8 p.m but my eyes threatened to close at any moment. 

“You okay, Ry?” Dylan asked, putting a plate up in the cabinet. 

“Yeah.” I replied, handing him another to dry. Lucky shook his head while continuously saying “no” over and over again. At some point Dylan grew tired of it and pressed the pad of his thumb into Lucky’s entire upper half of his body. 

“He’s not wrong. You’re always like this on holidays.” 

“I am?” I sighed, not really knowing how to get out of this one. These two have always been vigilant anyways. They would have noticed at some point. 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t know. I just feel really tired today.”  

“That’s it?” 

“Mhm.” 

Dylan gave me a skeptical look before putting in another plate. He doesn’t believe me. I don’t think he ever will about these kinds of things. 

“Why don’t you call Nathan? You always seem happier around him.” 

I stopped only for a second, then continued to scrub off something on the pan I used. No. I won’t call him. Not this time. No matter how many times he’s actually made me feel better just by being here. I’ve noticed I was happier around him too, but it’s only short lived since he always goes back at the end of the day. Do I know why I was happier? Not really. I’ve thought of a few reasons. Because he’s the only friend I’ve made since middle school. He listens to me ramble on and on about the most useless information. Best of all he’s really nice. Doesn’t really seem like he’s tricking me either. Not that I think he could even if he wanted to. He was too sweet. 

“No.” I sighed. Cleaning out the sink and handing off the last dish. 

“Why not?” Dylan asked leaning against the counter. 

“Cause I’m tired. No point in calling if I’m just going to fall asleep,” I countered, drying my hands and heading to my room, “Make sure Isabelle and Angela are asleep by 10? Please?”  

Dylan nodded his head, I closed the door behind me and buried myself under the covers of my bed. I can’t keep on relying on Nathan to come fix every problem I have. He’s probably off dealing with whatever he’s doing right now anyways. But still, my hand reached for my phone, grabbing it and opening the messages app. I’m just gambling with myself at this point. If he answers in the next ten minutes I’ll ask to call, if he doesn’t, I’ll head to sleep. Either way it’s really a win-win. And here it goes. 

———Nathan———

I was laying on my bed, under the covers. No lights, no sounds, just nothing. I had cried earlier this morning when I visited his grave. My eyes were dry now. Red and puffy. I just sat curling in on myself while clutching the same teddy bear he gave me when I was still just a kid. It was childish, but if it’s all I have left of him then I’m taking advantage of that. 

Ironic, huh? How this holiday was supposed to bring family together. It was actually the opposite for me. Even though he didn’t actually die on this holiday, it’s just ironic how it happened this year. When we’re finally free and live like a “normal” family now. Was he watching me now? Sad and lonely in my bed? I hope he wasn’t. He’d scold me. 

My phone went off, but I didn’t feel like looking at it. It’s not like I wanted to be alone. Usually my mom would cheer me up by taking my mind off of it. Whether it was playing some makeshift game or just doing something I liked with me. What else was there to say? This year was the year I was completely alone. 

I sucked in a deep breath, picking up my phone with sore arms. I spent most of the day digging out the old flowers on his grave and replacing them with new ones. It was hard to do when a thin sheet of snow was covering most of the dirt and grass, but it was worth it to see the bright a beautiful colors. His favorites were lilacs. I remember mom telling me that. 

My eyes shot up when I saw who texted me. Ryker? I mean it was already night, so I doubt he was going to ask if I wanted to go over. But… I was kind of curious now. 

Ryker: Hey

Ryker: How was your day? 

Ryker: You’re probably doing something right now but I’d just thought I’d check what you were doing 

Sent five minutes ago. Why did he want to know what I was doing? It seemed weird to me, but maybe he was just bored. Did they celebrate? I hope they did. They seem to be happy with each other. 

Nathan: It was okay :) 

Nathan: And yours? 

Ryker: Chaotic

Nathan: Oh 

I wasn’t technically lying. My day was okay despite crying for most of it. 

Ryker: Yeahhh 

Ryker: Do you feel like calling? 

Ryker: You don’t have to of course 

I thought about it. It wouldn’t be that bad. Might keep my mind occupied.

  Nathan: Sure 

And so he called. 

“Hello?” His voice sounded tired and sad, like he just woke up or something. I couldn’t find my voice. It’s become rasp from sobbing anyways. It’d be embarrassing for it to sound like that over the phone. So hopefully it’ll get better in the morning. 

“Oh, right,” He sighed, “Sorry. I just felt like talking and usually you listen. You can just hang up if you don’t want to though.” He sounded nervous, but I didn’t want to hang up. Not only because it was the wrong thing to do, but because I always loved listening to what he was saying. No matter how irrelevant it was. It distracted my mind from everything wrong with me. And he seemed to like it when I did. 

Nathan: I’m listening 

I heard him let out a little chuckle before talking. I could hear at some points it sounded like he was going to cry, and some he sounded like he was so hurt, and sometimes he’d laugh. He changed the subject multiple times, but I kind of liked it. I just wished I could help in some other way. It sounded to me like he was stressed out and just wanted someone to be there, and I’m surprised none of his siblings were. Or maybe they were, but he just doesn’t want to put all of this on them. It seemed like something he would do. 

By the time he was done, it was an hour before midnight. Funny thing was, I wasn’t tired anymore. I was putting together pieces in my mind still about everything he had talked about. How he was mentally tired of juggling five things around at once. I would be too if I were him. How he’s been more and more exhausted by the end of the day. How his parents usually did all of these kinds of things. I was going to ask what happened to them, but I feel like that was a touchy subject. Especially when he just vented to me. I don’t mind though. Not at all. 

“Oh crap. Sorry for keeping you up.” Ryker apologized, saying sorry about five times before I texted him that it was okay. I wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. 

“Thanks. Y’know. For listening.” I heard him yawn on the other side. He was the one tired. I silently laughed to myself, hugging the bear closer to my chest. If only he could see me now… this was embarrassing. He’d probably make fun of me for it. I wouldn’t care. 

“You’re too nice, you know that?” I heard shuffling on the other side of the phone. Probably Ryker getting ready to go to sleep. And I know this was selfish, but I didn’t want him to hang up. I didn’t want my mind to realize that I was alone again. Was is it really selfish then? To me, yes. It feels like I was making him do something he didn’t want to. 

“Hey, um, remember when you tried hugging me that one time? Why’d you do it?” He had asked, and I could practically see his face. Confused and happy at the same time. He was talking about when I had to stay overnight. I knew that would come up eventually, just not so soon. 

Nathan: Nobody’s ever been so nice to me before. Besides my mom of course 

Nathan: But I was kind of shocked you agreed without complaining 

Nathan: Are you mad about it?

“Mad? Nononono. Um, the complete opposite really,” He laughed quietly, “I was shocked, yeah, but happy too.” 

That gets rid of the guilt. I swear I thought I ruined everything between us, but now I know what he really thought. He wasn’t mad at me for anything. 

“What about the other day? When it was snowing. You looked comfortable. Like you were about to sleep.” My cheeks started blushing from embarrassment. I had hoped he didn’t see me snuggling closer into his palm to stay warm, but apparently he did. So embarrassing. I groaned quietly to myself, tightly hugging the bear closer. 

Nathan: Sorry 

Nathan: I was cold 

Nathan: You were warm 

Nathan: Sorry again 

It was silent for a second. 

“Why do you apologize for things like that?” 

I didn’t know the answer to that question. Usually my mind just takes over and then I spiral into the worst possible scenarios. So I have no idea why I do. Maybe because my brain thinks I’ll get hurt if I don’t? My body was scared of getting another broken bone or something getting hurt? 

Nathan: I don’t know 

It was silent again. 

“Do… do you like being around me? I-I mean most people stop talking to me as soon as they get what they want. So, I was just wondering.” His voice sounded hurt. Obviously this ha sharpened once or twice to him. And it hurt to hear that these things have happened to someone so amazing. I could never do that to Ryker. It’d hurt me more than it’d hurt him. 

“Y-yes.” I almost immediately replied, my voice a little raspy. It hurt to speak, but it was fine. It’ll get better in time. 

I heard him let out a sigh of relief, and I smiled. I was finally doing the right thing for once in my life. I’m kind of glad this was how the day ended. 

“I would give you a hug if you were here… and if you were comfortable enough with it,” We both laughed quietly, “I’ll let you go to sleep. I’ve kept you up long enough.” 

I shook my head, forgetting that he wasn’t here to see it. I didn’t want him to go. Then again he sounded exhausted. Then I would be the one keeping him up. Or he doesn’t even have to stay awake. Just the knowledge that I knew he was just on the other side of the phone was enough to make me feel like I wasn’t alone. 

“U-Um you d-don’t have to s-stay up b-but could we stay… stay on call? P-Please.” I waited for an answer, biting my tongue for stuttering so much. My body was shaky for no reason. I was nervous. He was going to say no. He was going to say no. He was going to- 

“I would love that.” 

I wish he could see the smile I had on my face. How fast my heart was beating. I laid down under the covers, getting comfortable and staring at my phone that read: Ryker: 3:14. Three hours and fourteen minutes. Another seven won’t hurt. 

“Thank you.” 

I fell asleep a couple minutes after he did. No nightmares haunted me tonight.

—————————————

My heart is meltinggggggg

By the way, this was not the great scene I was talking about. This was just one of many to make the one I actually want to write make sense.

Anywayssss I told you guys it would be a little plot heavy for a while! I loved how this chapter came out though.

Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading! Love you guys!

[philtstone]

half wordless, half in elven-tongue

Summary: There is something very practical about Arwen’s ancient and much-powerful grandmother (for an Elf, anyway) that Arwen admires, for she herself has sometimes found it difficult to achieve practicality. Estel, Man though he is, appreciates her fancies very much. He and his poet’s soul. She has spent the last twenty years sharing them with him in her letters, and every response (growing fewer and fewer until these last six months they stopped entirely) has him writing back like one offered water in the desert.

Arwen does not mind; it is not as though she herself has much more sense, climbing into bed with him as she does.

huge shoutout to @firstelevens for reading thru this and telling me it didn't suck despite not really going here. also, a secondary shoutout to @btwxsixesandsevens for gong here even less but inadvertently inspiring the "lover from a story" bit with their (as always) brilliant fic writing. would never have spent 3 weeks agonizing over this otherwise!!!

3rd October, 2952

Mellon,

I’m late writing you for entirely explainable reasons. You will say, not so unusual for you – that is not true, and you are only very over-eager writing me, which should not be as pleasant a revelation as it is – but anyhow, here it is. We’ve had many visitors of late, and my skill was needed in the healing den. Of course, I thought of you (in all Ada’s training I have not read nearly so much about the virtues of athelas as I did skimming your last letter) but I urge you not to worry, as we are all well here and there is no contagious illness. Your presence would have been appreciated though. If not by Ada (he sits in the study sometimes and looks yearningly out the window; I know he is missing you, though he won’t admit to it) than by the poor Dwarf whose stomach could not settle. You were always very good at getting a smile out of even the most stubborn of silly souls. 

On that point, how has it been on the frontier of friend-finding? I know you must not be in the Wilds any longer. Given how swiftly we understood each other, I am sure you will have no trouble at all on that front. Send updates soon,

AE

6th February, 2953

Estel,

Is the Angle so very cold as all that? Do not despair at the stiffness of your welcome (or in your bones!). You are still their kindred and that is manifest even in the curve of the characters you write: you love them already, do you not? Do not deny it. 

I am very intrigued by your observations on the rouge-wearing practices of your people and cannot help but wonder if it is an exclusively Mannish preference. I certainly do not wear it, but I have seen portraits and I do believe Uncle Elros did. I cannot determine the colour, however, as the portrait is old. Thoughts? 

You will see I have many questions today. Your insistence that every Dunedain woman you meet feels akin to a cousin or aunt is terribly amusing (I am almost convinced you are making a joke — are you?). I am sure at least one of them does not reciprocate that sentiment. Are they still wary of you, or very forward now? What is the food like? How many teeth have you broken upon the infamous bread you described? Have you met your grandfather yet? (I remember you were worried about that). 

Do not let the cold seep in too much. You must wear warm socks and eat foods that keep the blood warm. I may be an Elf, but my healing arts extend to many races, so you are thus obliged to listen to me. 

As for the rest – your people will love you soon as you do them, for such a love as the one you give is easy to return. You are certainly very likeable, at any rate, and I will argue with anyone who disagrees. 

Have hope, and be well. All will be as it should.

14th March, 2953

Do not say you listen to me on all fronts, as I have it in writing by your own hand that you have not eaten in three days. In the cold! Foolish man.

25th January, 2956

Elves do not experience such monthly pains, as you well know Estel. Or perhaps you do not, in which case I must chide Ada for thus limiting your training in the healing arts. Childbirth and bearing is a region most important, as I have learned (I can already imagine your blush) from your own mother, with whom I’ve spoken three times since your last letter. I have decided we must become fast friends, and her efforts at formality are altogether poor anyway; her face is as open as yours often is, and it warms me to know whence that quality came. 

Anyhow. The blood in your vest. There is clay that runs beneath the bark of some trees that will remove stains made by bodily fluid. Also vinegar, if you are near a homestead.

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[venerawrites]

HEY HEY! bro I can't believe ur back and holy hell ur SOOO fun to read I wish I had friends like u to brainstorm with im so serious rn 🙏🏻 but in ANYHOW

Can I please please get your thoughts on how the Uchiha brothers, Neji, Sai and/or Gaara I don't know how many u accept but if it's too much then just do whoever u feel like🤝 act when drunk?! it's cool if u wanna add already in a relationship/existing feelings with the reader too

thaaaaank uuuuuu!!!!!!

author's note: I usually accept only 4 characters per request, so I excluded Gaara this time, hope that's okay <3 Also I've read a while ago that there are apparently 4 types of drunks, so it worked out perfectly! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for requesting! x

➤ Itachi - "The Nutty Professor"

Every time Itachi drinks, it's like a completely another person emerge on the surface.

While he is usually pretty quiet and reserved when sober, he would be way more confident and loud when drunk.

He would totally be dominating every conversation in the table and set the tone of the 'party'.

I see him as someone who is very likely to get philosophical when drunk - he needs only a few drinks in order to start discussing the human nature and its connection to inflicting violence, the society structure and how 'good' and 'evil' are perceived.

Often this comes out in the form of a long monologue, which only half of the people are actively listening.

If with his s/o, he would be way more affectionate than usual. He would have his hand around their shoulders or caressing their thigh, and openly admitting how much they appreciate their presence in his life.

I don't imagine him as the type to get blackout drunk though. Despite being more relaxed and energetic, he would still have enough consciousness to be able to pay attention to everyone on the table and make sure that everyone is okay.

(must be that big brother energy, idk)

➤ Sasuke - "Mr. Hyde"

I wasn't sure in the beginning if Sasuke is proper 'Mr.Hyde' type of drunk, but from all the types I think this one suits him best.

Sasuke, in my opinion, doesn't like drinking. Like at all. Yet if everyone else does it when they are out, he does it too (no matter how many times he promise he won't drink anymore).

Becomes more moody and irritable than usual. If he is quite alright with holding back his annoyance when sober, all restrictions would be forgotten after 2 or 3 drinks.

Likely to pick up verbal fights, especially with someone like Naruto or Kiba. An inappropriate joke or a comment, especially if it is toward his s/o, is more than enough to set him on.

May get a bit snarky and deliberately trying to provoke people around him. I think he will definitely take jabs at people that somehow wronged him in the past when drunk.

If his s/o is with him, they would need to be his 'carer' - watch how much he is drinking and try to diffuse any uncomfortable situation that arises.

If they are not with him, this is usually done by either Sakura or Naruto (how well Sasuke takes that, however, really depends on what and how much he drank).

Wakes up the next morning remembering everything and with a deep regret for his behaviour.

➤ Neji - "The Hemingway"

Surprising (and maybe unpopular?) opinion of mine is that Neji actually can hold his alcohol really well.

Most of the times he has tried alcohol before were in family settings, so he knew well to behave and to draw the line once he feels it's too much.

I also don't see him drinking that much?

So even when he does, there is no dramatic change from how he usually is. He may engage in conversation a little bit more than usual, but other than that he is the same reserved and serious Neji we all know.

He also feel the responsibility to look after his friends/his s/o when they are out together, so this is another reason for him to maintain the majority of his consciousness.

It is unlikely for him to become overly sentimental or emotional, but if he has already consumed more than 3 drinks and he is in the company of his s/o, he may become a bit more relaxed and sometimes even... flirty?

Like not too much (we are still talking about Neji after all), but occasionally he will lean close to his s/o and whisper to them how beautiful they are, how much he loves them etc. (which he never usually does in public!).

Definitely the guy in charge of getting everyone else home safely!

➤ Sai - "The Mary Poppins"

Okay, maybe not a real "Mary Poppins" type, but still the 'best type' of drunk in the whole company!

While he is not particularly shy when sober, once he has a few drinks he is definitely more cheerful and friendlier (at least as much as Sai can be).

One thing that remains is his bluntness - if he has no filter in general, once drunk he would say ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING that is on his mind (no matter how good or bad).

The type of guy that would raise a toast every ten minutes - for good friendships; for true love; for peaceful times; for ninja's life etc.

This would be the only time he feels comfortable enough to tell all the jokes he has learned recently as well. The delivery would probably be 1/10, but the effort - 10/10.

If out with his s/o and they drink too much, he would be the one looking out for them - he would hold their hair in the toilet while rubbing small circles on their back; he would bring them glasses of water between drinks etc.

His mind would still be sharp as ever, so he is likely to engage in friendly debates or long discussions about history/politics.

Would get sick if he drinks more than 5/6 drinks.

cc artwork: "Stray" Concept Art

[totiredtowrite]

hiiii since you were asking for drabble ideas i give you this:

sakusa emotionally distancing himself from reader because he's developing feelings and kinda scared but reader keeps pushing a friendly agenda until sakusa just gives up and admits that he's starting to fall in love.

if you don't want to write this just lmk and i might write it myself :P

anyhow, hope you have a great day/night!

augh 😖😖 it's kinda short and may be a little crappy but you guys deserve a fic at least once every 3 months 🚶🏽‍♂️ im like a neglectful father

Sakusa admits that he's been a little harsh to you. Of course he would never admit to being infatuated with you, but, well, he was. He didn't know why you were so intent on weaseling your way into his life, but it was starting to grow on him.

"Sakusa," you hummed, turning to pout at him. You had your head in your arms, hair all messed up. He grunted in response, not bothering to look at you. You sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. "Why do you hate me?"

He paused. Maybe he wasn't necessarily expecting that question, but given how he's treated you, he shouldn't be surprised. The feelings for you that brewed in the pit of his stomach felt eerily more like a horrible allergic reaction, so what other option than to push you away as harshly as possible? Though, when faced with such a question he wasn't quite sure how to respond. Did he even actually hate you? You had always found some way to be around him. He always said that he hated you, but he still accepted all of your requests to study together. He found his heart beating at your texts and his stomach curling in knots when you smiled. He never wants to see you hurt or sad, he wanted to buy you things and put aside his germaphobia hold you at night.

Sakusa being Sakusa, however, couldn't (or wouldn't) say it out loud.

"I don't hate you." He wanted it to sound reassuring, but it came out harsh. Almost like the question annoyed him. You frowned softly, shuffling in your seat.

"It's ok if you don't like me." You said softly. "I'd just prefer if you told me. So that I don't have to—you know. Guess."

Sakusa put his book down. "Guess?"

"Yeah. Guess. If you don't like me I don't have to keep hanging around you and annoying you."

He felt his chest start to get tight. Was this why you asked him here? Did he know how to answer you? Did he really want you to leave him alone? He must've been taking too long to answer, because to started to gather your things. "I'm sorry," you said, "I didn't mean to spring that on you. I should get home—"

"I do like you!"

...

"What?"

You stopped, watching him with surprise. He stood up and pulled your arms away from your back, clutching them in his large hands. "I like you. I don't know why and I despise it. I despise the fact that I can touch you and not want to rip my skin off." He moved his face in closer to yours, acutely aware of the tears brewing in your eyes. "I want you. I never want you to leave me alone." The words just spilled out of him like a faucet. It was decidedly very not like himself, but it was a little late to take it back.

Your gaze went a little hazy. "You really mean it?"

He rested his forehead against yours, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Would I be so close to you if I didn't?"

You smiled. "No. I suppose you wouldn't."

~

dont repost my work anywhere without my consent and don't steal it please; imitation is flattery, theft is not

[blackjackkent]

Fault Lines - Chapter 2 - "Rupture Zone"

Pairing: Jaheira & Nine-Fingers Keene Characters: Jaheira, Nine-Fingers Keene, Rion, Jord, Original Minor Characters Rating: G Warnings: None Descriptors: Cross-Generational Friendship, Slow Build, Tragedy, Backstory, Time Skips Fic Word Count (Thus Far): 8.2k Chapter Word Count: 4.5k Chapter Setting: Baldur’s Gate, about 20 years before BG3. Summary: Nine-Fingers Keene has known Jaheira a long time. This is how it fell apart. (Chap 2/?) Chapter Summary: Fifteen-year-old Astele takes her first steps into Baldur's Gate's underworld, and it doesn't get quite the response she hoped for.

read on ao3 | send me fic requests!

-----

"Gods, what a stench, eh?" Harren laughs, clapping Astele sharply on the shoulder as he splashes past her. "That's the smell of home. Better get used to it if you're gonna keep workin' with us, kid."

Astele grins. Sitting down on top of one of the crates, she wipes at the sweat on her brow. The last three days have been the hardest work of her life, hauling the ship's worth of contraband from the harbor into the sewers; she feels a pleasant sort of satisfied exhaustion now, knowing that the job is done and she managed to keep up with the older gang members. At fifteen, she may not look like much, still short and scrappy, but a childhood full of odd jobs and thievery has left her quick and strong.

"Aw, it's not so bad," she says casually. The last thing she wants is to look ungrateful; this is the first time she's been trusted to bring cargo all the way into the Sewerkeepers' base of operations. But Harren's right - it does stink, a fetid odor of piss and shit and garbage that hovers around them in an inescapable ambience. "Water's clear, anyhow," she points out, eyeing the rushing stream that flows down the center of the sewer tunnel they've been hauling through.

Harren leans down and lets the water run over his hand. He's a half-drow and his eyes have that low-light reflectivity that gives him a slightly devilish affect, and his face is scarred and his nose crooked from a lifetime of gang work. But his smile is good-natured, and he answers Astele's questions more agreeably than most of the gang, who seem to be a fairly taciturn lot overall. "Sure is. I guess no one's explained to you why Kop keeps druids like me on the payroll?" 

Astele shrugs cautiously. “Nothing specific. There’s people who say you keep things clean down here, ‘cos the patriars don't give a shit.” This was, in fact, why she braved the dangers of the gang side of the docks in search of a job, rather than sticking to something simple like running messages in the Wide. “No one seems to know quite how, though.”

Harren's eyes crinkle at the corners with amusement, and he rolls his head back and gives a sharp whistle through his teeth. Magic pulses around his body, and then the sewer wall twists, bends, bulges outward, and bursts, disgorging an enormous, hulking green shape that Astele has never seen before. At first she thinks it’s some kind of animal - it stands on four legs, of a sort, and has a lump at one end that’s almost a head - but after a moment she realizes it’s mud, a huge roiling mass of it. Grass and moss coats it like fur, textured with twigs and leaves melded through its undulating skin. It uncurls itself onto the floor of the tunnel with an unearthly, whining moan and turns in a quick circle as if orienting itself, then lumbers to Harren’s side.

Astele's eyes widen as she stares at the imposing bulk of this newly-summoned creature. "What in the fuck-- What is that?" she asks, all her cocky composure startled right out of her.

"Shambling mound," Harren says with an air of paternal pride. He reaches out to pat the monstrosity on its "head"; it makes an odd purring noise that sounds like a mudslide. "We don't call the gang the Sewerkeepers for nothing. Me'n the others keep 'em working on rotation; they'll eat up just about anything. Keeps the paths clear for our smuggling, mostly - but cleans up the city’s water besides." His grin widens, flashing a row of very white teeth stark against his dark skin. "I call mine Flossie."

"She's a beaut," Astele says with heavy irony, eyeing the bizarre thing curiously.

"Aye, a good worker all round," Harren says. Picking up a crowbar, he nudges Astele’s hip gently. "Outta the way now, kiddo. I'll be taking it from here. You should go on into the Keep. Kop’s heard I got us a new hauler - she'll want to say hello."

Astele hops agreeably off the crate so he can start levering it open. Eyeing the shambling mound, she mimics Harren and puts a hand out to pat it. It rumbles with pleasure and its muddy form shifts unsettlingly under her hand. "Right. Good girl, Flossie," she says with a crooked grin, then takes off at a jog up the tunnel.

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