#he looks like a friendly old chap

[duchessanon]

Took one look at Lady Louise’s (alleged!)boyfriend and KNEW he was posh. The validation when I saw his name is Felix da Silva-Clamp!

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

[sleepyangelkami]

AHH I’m seriously so jealous of your writing😭 can you write something about carls girl never realizing when people are flirting with her and he doesn’t get jelly but can help but get a little protective? ❣️❣️

OBLIVIOUS c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.1K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - oblivion was your middle name, never seeing the various places flirting came from. but carl noticed. of course he noticed. and with your harmless oblivion, he had to take action into his own hands.

 ☆ WARNINGS - ditzy + oblivious!reader, ron, flirting, protectiveness, (3) use of y/n, petnames, intended lowercase, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

carl wouldn't exactly say he had a 'wide group of friends'.

when they moved into alexandria, carl had already been on the road so long that he'd lost interest in people his age. he preferred the strong fighters he stood by like his father and daryl. he didn't seem to have much time for anyone else.

well, anyone but you.

you were the opposite of them, friendly and kind, oblivious as a bat.

rick adored the fact that even in a world like their own, his son had managed to find love. he'd let you into the family with open arms, seeing nothing but pure intentions behind your pretty smile that had half the town whipped. if only you'd glanced around to notice. you were too busy trying to avoid the poles you almost walked into, though.

but despite his love for his sons loving nature of his own, he worried for him. he was constantly on his back about being a 'normal teenager' he was supposed to grow old surrounded by people, not just wither away when you weren't around.

this was what possessed carl to invite ron over. well, technically he didn't invite him over, rick did, and technically, it was supposed to be ron, mickey and enid. however, enid and ron had just recently broke up and mickey was trying to support her through it (they were stealing whiskey from his dad's liquor cabinet.)

he would have invited you over too, if only ron wasn't so... "hey, man, so where's y/n?"

carl couldn't help but roll his eyes before picking up his console controller. the only good thing about ron coming over was the fact that carl got to absolutely obliterate him in console games. which was sort of embarrassing for ron seeing as carl had spent his childhood fighting off the real things they fought against in pixles. "at home." he answered sourly.

cue the oblivion.

you'd been friends with ron longer than you'd known carl. but that didn't mean anything to him. you were friends with everyone. the only problem was that you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was downright in love with you.

carl wasn't exactly jealous, no, he had more faith in you than that.

however, he'd be lying if he didn't find himself bubbling over every time your name slipped from between his chapped lips. ron barely knew you. you were carl's.

"ah." smacking his lips together annoyingly as he sat against the cushion beneath him, cushioning him from the carpet. yes, ron needed cushioning from the carpet. "she's always been like that, a hermit, that one." as if he'd known you for centuries.

carl barely glanced forward, a look of un-amusement on his face before turning back to the screen.

ron stuffed his face with the chips next to him. "what?" voice all muffled.

carl didn't even get to answer for before his lips so much as parted, a sound was heard from the front of his house. he could make out your girlish giggles before he could hear the door open and close. you were such a soft person but there was nothing soft in the way you tossed the door closed excitedly. "carl!" your voice echoed through the house, stopping his heart momentarily.

there was something so regretful about ron perking up on carl's living room floor. your giggles slowed to a stop and carl saw you standing in the doorway, glancing at ron as your smile faded. "hey, baby." ignoring the look across your face.

you weren't sad ron was here, you were happy carl was hanging out with people. it was more confusion, he hadn't mentioned this. you shrugged it off, thinking perhaps it was a surprise visit. you did like surprises. you didn't so much as think twice, the sound of his voice soothing you and turning your brain to mush.

"hi! hi ron." smile suddenly returning. carl always found it funny, how quickly your expressions could change. but he liked you this way, easy to read. "look what I made!"

you were prancing over to where he stood on the couch within seconds. carl watched as you let wool unravel.

there wasn't much to do around alexandria seeing as you worked in the gardens most days and some days it was much too rainy or muddy so you spent most your time in your room and with carl, of course. sometimes both.

when you'd told carl weeks ago that you'd decided to take up crocheting he looked at you funny, wondering what the hell was a crochet.

you'd read somewhere about it and told him it was basically knitting. then he asked why you couldn't simply knit. he didn't get it, you realised.

nonetheless, he'd been awfully supportive as you came about this new hobby. he watched the pink and white wool against the couch, made yourself with some new stitch you'd learned. there were bows on it too which only made the boy smile. he was sure that if he entered his bedroom now, there'd be at least twenty bows he could spot somewhere around the room that you'd left.

perhaps you were marking your territory.

"wow." he gushed at the piece of fabric. "that's amazing, sweetheart." watching your cheeks go pink.

ron watched from his space on the floor, swallowing the crunchy chips in his mouth. you were close with carl. of course you were he was your boyfriend. but even so, you were close with carl.

always cuddling up to him, getting so close. come to think about it, there wasn't much times he'd seen you both in the same room and not touching. if you weren't, you were usually busy wandering off leaving a distressed carl behind you, holding his hat on his head as he searched for your whereabouts.

a 'thank you' was on the tip of your lips, ready to thank the boy for his constant praise. how could he not? you were making blankets now, that could benefit the whole community. and you'd already given away at least a dozen. "yeah, that's really amazing." ron intervened.

truthfully, you'd almost forgotten he was here.

you'd turned your head to him, little guilt swirling in your veins. you were probably interrupting their 'bro time'. "thanks, ron."

"'course, y/n." the way he said your name had carl's stomach feeling off. "can I see it?"

of course you were much too oblivious to think anything of it, the sweet "sure!" leaving your mouth. carl watched you part from his side, sitting next to ron on the carpet, avoiding the chips that were spilling onto the ground and passing him the blanket.

"wow." his praise seemed sort of... forced but it felt good nonetheless. praise from anyone nowadays felt good. "this is just amazing, you have to teach me some day."

his tone was nothing short of suggestive. luckily for carl, he wasn't the jealous type, at least not with ron anderson. he had enough to be thinking about, like a break in on alexandria and someone mauling you in your sleep. he didn't waste a second thinking of you running off with ron. there wasn't a chance in the galaxy. but that didn't help the knot in his stomach.

not jealousy. but he didn't like the way his hands were straying so close to yours.

you were too ditzy to notice anything of it. but that was the whole thing. you didn't take notice of much, always confused, the perfect target for anyone to prey on.

now, carl didn't exactly think ron was a bad person. however, he wasn't so inclined to leave the both of you alone, he was sure that whether or not you were with carl and whether or not he had been with enid, ron wouldn't hesitate to make a move. and you'd be stuck not knowing what to do, too afraid of hurting someone elses feelings.

"okay." you shrugged your shoulders, missing carl's touch too much to think about teaching ron how to crochet. you often did this, letting your mind stray to the things most important.

like carl, for example. you did it at the worst of times. perhaps you were having an interesting conversation with enid but she spent a little too long getting to the point. before you know it, your mind is on carl or something or other. you moved so fast, never grasping what was said to you. carl always found it sort of adorable. especially when it was you that was telling the stories, venturing off to your side quests along the way.

"yeah?" you didn't nod nor did you answer, your eyes were grazing the blanket and carl could tell you were far away. "how about friday?" this snapped you back, though.

you pondered for a brief moment. you thought nothing of the interaction aside from the fact that you'd have to teach the boy to crochet. you couldn't really teach anyone to do anything, much too side tracked.

you didn't pick up on the way his head moved, his lips quirked and his body leaned into your own, eyes flickering up to carl as his own mouth opened.

"she can't." he answered for you. you were lucky, you knew so much. with carl around, you hardly ever had to think. imagine being so comfortable, to not even have to use your brain. you always joked that he was going to make you lazy. brain dead, even. "we're doing something together."

this you perked up at. "we are?" excitedly turning to the boy as you pondered what it was you could be doing this friday. he often took you outside the walls, leaning against his shoulder and listening to him read the comics he stole on runs. you liked the way he imitated the sounds like 'bang' and 'wack' because he'd always yell just to get you to laugh.

"yeah?" ron's tone suddenly changed from suggestive to not curious but something you couldn't quite put your tongue on. it was as if he'd been challenging the boy. "like what?"

carl tilted his head. he had enough of the boy's childish gimmicks as of now. there were many things he could be doing tonight such as bringing you upstairs and throwing on a dvd for you both or perhaps you could teach him to crochet. but jealous or not, carl had no intentions of leaving you with ron.

"like none of your business." this caught you off guard. carl only really had one tone with you and that was lovesick, filled with admiration. but as he gave ron a kind of glare, you wondered if there was a side to carl that you didn't know.

however, the thought left as soon as it came when you spotted the new cushion covers the grimes' couch had recovered.

ron shook his head, teeth grasping at the inside of his cheek. "I think i'm gonna go." practically daring you to dispute, but your mind wasn't even in the argument.

"i think that's a good idea." carl merely answered, eyes focused on the boy.

ron stood from his place, not bothering to take his wrappers with him. it'd been all you'd noticed, how rude of him. "see you tomorrow, y/n."

"bye." you chirped, still oblivious to the tension in the room.

carl watched as ron stood, glaring at the boy, as if he was trying to get some kind of a reaction out of him. would he really have to fight to the death for him to leave you alone? carl couldn't help but scoff, leaning against the couch without the faintest hint of jealousy in his bones, knowing that as you sat against the carpet, all you cared for was him.

most girls liked the jealousy. carl could think of one thing better than that, though.

certainty.

as ron left the house, he made sure to shut the door extra loud. carl's glare hardened against the white wood. "carl?" your pretty voice could be heard, sweet as honey.

he shook his head, turning away. "yeah, baby?"

"what are we doing on friday?" confused as to his plans. carl couldn't help but grin at you, shaking his head. even through his tension face off with ron, you hadn't suspected a thing, mind much too innocent to the silence cruelty of others. when he didn't respond, you frowned. "i'm confused."

a laugh puffed from his lips. "you're always confused." you gave him a pathetic attempt of a glare. "come on, dvd?"

"okay!" you chirped, instantly grinning.

forgetting so quickly.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[leonw4nter]

Through Thick and Thin, Always and Forever

Husband!Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

No one is spared from that stupid blond baby and his arrows, not even two seasoned agents who are were certain that their hearts would never learn to feel something other than guilt, fear, and hopelessness.

After 5 years of dating and now 17 years married, your marriage with him has faced its ups and downs but you two always managed to make amends and continue on smoothly. Lately, it’s been more of a down: minimal talking, less intimacy, and Leon in worse moods. After a particularly big fight regarding his alcohol consumption and the distance he’s been keeping from you, you two refused to talk to each other. The most you two did in interaction with each other is telling each other “good night” before turning to the other side of the bed, backs turned and “good morning” without meeting gazes. Although things between you too are a little cold and tense, you two still held respect for each other and didn’t do anything that meant to harm the other.

You got up earlier than Leon, your husband still sleeping soundly from his side of the bed; eyes still shut, strands of dark hair that fell over his forehead with his arms crossed and small snores leaving slightly chapped lips. You drank in the vulnerable sight of him, sighing and wistfully hoping that things would go back to normal between you two again. After fixing your side of the bed, you head over to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Taking out the left-overs from last night’s takeout from the fridge, you take a pan and add a small amount of oil before putting it on the stove. You decided to opt for reheating using a pan and stove instead of the readily available microwave since you were feeling a little more diligent than usual. While cooking, you realize that the non-stick coating of the pan you’re using is peeling away. There’s some bits of food sticking to the part of the pan that is bare, those bits burning up. The handle is also a lot more loose, the pan being older than 4 years. I’m going to have to look for a new pan I guess, you think to yourself. After a few more minutes of reheating, you plate the food and place them on the dining table.

“G’morning.”

“God you scared me.” You reply with a small jolt of electricity flowing through your body. You place the plates down, Leon getting up to help you with the others. Instantly, your day gets better now that Leon is doing things like these but you don’t push your luck, knowing that Leon is still a helpful guy no matter what and this could be him being friendly but still upset at you.

He waits for you to take a seat before he takes his, scooping some food onto his plate before he takes a bite. You two have breakfast in silence, him reading some article on his phone while you go looking through Amazon for new non-stick pans. Unfortunately for you, you don’t find any pan that looks good so you put your phone down with a small sigh. Breakfast ends silently with Leon doing the dishes and you sweeping around the house. This time, Leon is speaking up more but he’s still closed off but you’re happy that he’s begun to be a lot warmer to you. You thought about going out to buy the pan but your laziness said no, causing you to opt to stay inside and be curled up with a good book.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

I should’ve bought that damn pan yesterday.

Unfortunately for you, your period started today which meant cramps that you swore was just your uterus doing crazy acrobatics. Of course you were extra cranky, all your emotions upped a notch by a hundred but a tiny part of you was thankful for this because Leon began to warm up more. Just this morning, he offered to change the sheets and wash the old one when you bled into it; it’s as if you two had never fought days prior but you aren’t complaining. Now, you are curled up and buried beneath the sheets while clutching at your lower abdomen while waiting for Leon to come back home. You had sent him on an errand to go get you cheese fries and boba tea which should only take him 15 minutes max but he took a little longer than that. You poke your arm out of the sheets, feeling around for your phone before you finally feel it and drag your arm back inside the sheets. You look for Leon’s number, phoning him to hurry up and get home because you needed his company more than anything.

“Leooonn…” You weakly groan.

“Hm? Yes, sweetheart?” He asks on the other end of the line.

“Got me my food?” You quietly ask.

“Yeah. I’m on my way home, just stuck in traffic. I promise I’ll get there soon baby, hang on,” He responds.

“Okay… I’ll hang up now, the screen is giving me a migraine.”

You press the ‘end call’ button, groaning even louder now that you feel a migraine incoming. Can this day get worse?

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon finally arrives home with the fries and boba tea but he makes you drink water and take Advil before you have your snacks, hoping to alleviate the migraine you have going on. He also got a heating pad to help with cramps and offered to give you leg massages since your cramps caused spasms in your thighs as well. After giving you messages and looking after you, he slipped out of the bedroom to go show you something. He comes back with a pan, a non-stick one too.

“Baby is that…” You softly whisper, vision getting blurry with the tears in your eyes.

“Yeah. I saw you going through pans on Amazon so I thought I’d pick one up for you instead,” He explains. He goes on to explain his shopping process, going through the nitty gritty of the features of the cookware.

“The salesman told me that it’s made of stone too so it doesn’t retain strong odors like fish and is oven-safe. You’ll have crispy edges and browned crusts too– honey, are you crying?”

You take a big gulp of the boba before setting it down, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweater. Hormones were everywhere, your emotions are a mess, you’re going to be bleeding for the next 5 days and here is your husband: an absolute sweetheart, the only man there is for you. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tight while trying to keep the tears down.

“Thanks, honey. I appreciate it. A lot. Tons, even.” You softly mumble. He brings a hand to the small of your back, giving you small pats as well. You feel a content rumble from his chest, smiling because you know that your fight is now a thing of the past.

“Anything for my girl,” he responds. “Name it and I’ll get it for you.”

“What if I want cuddles right now?” “Your wish is my command,” he agrees. With a pleased smile, he wraps you in a fuzzy blanket before laying at your side and hugging you like you’re a teddy bear. Well, he’s your teddy bear but today you don’t mind having the roles reversed.

NOTE - Today's fic is a little short because I am (1) tired and (2) not having a nice time rn!!! Yeyy!!! It's Valentine's Day today (as of writing) and not to sound like a salty person but everyone getting gifts from either their partner or friends made me feel a lot more alone 😭😭 Like a relationship is not what I'm looking for right now but it won't hurt to yk- receive something, even if it's just chocolate or candy. Anyways, I hope your Valentine's Day went great and if you confessed then I hope your feelings were reciprocated and if not then it's not the end of the world yk, you'll find the right one in the right time <3 Tysmm for reading my fics and I <3333 UUUUUUU (also this fic is inspired by that one reddit story)

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 2 ◇ Part 3 ◇ Part 4

Warnings: none, osamu feeling inferior to tsumu :(

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Osamu's POV! I swear i'm gonna continue the story-line in the next chap.!

All of his childhood, Osamu felt like he was divided in half because of his brother: half food, half clothes, and half affection from their parents. It was almost like people didn’t see him as his own person. To the world, they were “The Twins”, never just “Osamu” and just “Atsumu”.

Time changed, things changed, they each started to become their own person, dreaming of different futures and places to go to.

Osamu always felt like he was the shadow to the light named Miya Atsumu, but he loved him dearly, so much that even today he half-expects to find Atsumu tangled up beneath the sheets of their childhood bunker bed, only to be greeted by the disappointing sight of his mirror, where his reflection gets blurred with the lines of his twin brother.

Osamu loved Atsumu but he didn’t want to hurt people like Atsumu often did; he told his brother that he was never going to become like him, so he became a little less selfish, less stubborn and less greedy.

With you, though, he is greedy. And he wants all of you.

He wants to hold you while you two watch some stupid anime called Haikyuu that you’re obsessed with, he wants to listen to you rambling about your day and your disdain for Alice, the insufferable colleague of yours; he wants to cook for you and feed you with his own hands and he wants to wait for you in your shared bed.

Osamu didn’t want a lot of things in his life, except his restaurant and his family, but since the day he saw you walk in with wet hair and drenched clothes, he started to want a lot more than he could afford, from the most mundane acts of waking up together to the intimacy of making love to you.

He is patient though, he lets your relationship grow steadily.

He thought that he would be happy with the leftover crumbles of affection that you gave him, but when you stopped coming to his shop, Osamu lost it completely. 

He was waiting for you around 7 PM like every Friday, he was feeling confident that day and wanted to suggest a casual outing to the neighbouring town's food fair.

(Nothing like a date, just a friendly hang out, he told himself).

His resolve wavered when you didn’t show up, not for one, not for two, but for three weeks in a row. He thought of all the possibilities as to why you didn’t come for so long, and he tried his best not to imagine the worst-case scenario. That can’t be. Nope.

On the third Friday of your absence, Osamu was crumbling. He closed the shop earlier than usual and went straight into the supermarket to get his guilty pleasure: the Butter Cookies.

His grandma always used to get them for him and unlike many other children, he never found sewing tools or anything of the sort in the box; his grandma knew that that kind of disappointment would be far too great for a six-year-old, food-enthusiast ‘Samu.

Well, grandma, that kind of disappointment is too great for a twenty-six-year-old ‘Samu too, because the guy was nearly panicking when he couldn’t find the boxes of Butter Cookies at their usual place. 

He was positive, though, because even after searching everywhere and not finding them, he didn’t lose hope. They will be available in another grocery store for sure. He got his priority straight and redirected his steps to another store across the town.

Luckily for him, the store was still open for another hour and it didn’t take him long to finally see his comfort food, in all its glory, staring at him from the shelf in the second aisle.

He was just about to go and pay for his box when he caught a glimpse of your silhouette, halting him in his tracks and confirming that it was, in fact, you.

Concern etches across his features as he looks at your tired and empty eyes, wondering if you have been taking care of yourself. Did you eat enough? Sleep enough?

The desire to call out to you is strong, leaving him no time to think before he is already approaching you, “That one will go bad in like 2 days.”

You look like a deer caught in headlights, doe eyes staring at him in what he wants to believe is awe.  You smile timidly before saying: “Hi Osamu, long time no see.” 

Yeah, long time no see, indeed. Osamu wants to be mad at you for making him so worried, for not coming to his shop, for not letting him know if you were doing okay, but he is just the owner of a restaurant and you’re just a regular client.

At least, you used to be a regular client. He can’t force you to like his company or his shop, no matter how much he wishes it.

Despite this, he can’t stop the bitter remark that slips past his lips,“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” you visibly wince, though he can’t seem to care enough.

You stutter some poor excuse as he inspects the other vegetables in the aisle, handing you one with a clean surface that will last at least five days, per Osamu’s calculations.

His hands touch yours and it makes him blush like a middle schooler.

You both talk about nothing and everything and in between the mundane banter and playful jabs, Osamu finds himself agreeing to a cooking lesson at your apartment.

And he couldn’t be happier.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @writingsofanomnivore @pressuredtreasure @k4sumis0u

[nothingsure127]

🍃Unplanned Journey🍃

Pairing : Park Sunghoon as father, fluff🍬 _________________________________

-⚘

Chap. 6

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sunghoon was tidying up the front counter, wiping down the shelves and checking the expiration dates of the products.

As he worked, his thoughts kept drifting to his shift at the restaurant later in the evening.

He mentally ran through the specials, wondering if he had enough stock left to cover the orders. Suddenly, the jangling of the bell above the door interrupted his thoughts,

and he looked up to find an elderly woman hobbling into the store.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Sunghoon greeted her politely, putting on his best customer service smile.

"What can I help you with today?"

The elderly woman looked up at Sunghoon with a small smile.

"Good afternoon, young man," she said, her voice weathered with age. "I just need a few things, dear."

"Of course," Sunghoon replied, stepping out from behind the counter.

"What do you need, ma'am?"

"I need some snacks for my grandchildren," she said,

"They're coming over tomorrow and they love all this junk food, can you suggest me some?."

Her voice warm and she has smile on her face as she was talking to sunghoon.

"Sure thing." Sunghoon led the elderly woman over to the snack aisle.

"Do your grandchildren have any specific favorites? Chips, candies, cookies?"

The old lady thought for a moment,

The old woman's gaze swept across the shelves of colorful packages.

"My granddaughter's loves gummy bears," she said.

"But the sour ones and.. do you have mint choco flavour icecream and chewingum?" Her voice was tinged with affection.

"We do have all of those," Sunghoon confirmed, steering her towards the correct sections.

"Here are the sour gummy bears," he said, picking up the item and put it on cart,.

"And the mint choco ice cream is over there, and we've got several options for chewing gum."

The old woman nodded in approval as Sunghoon led her around the store, picking up the items she needed.

She watched him closely, taking note of his polite demeanor and friendly face.

"You're very patient, young man," she said, her tone warm.

"Most teenagers don't have your level of patience."

Sunghoon chuckled slightly, his cheeks coloring a bit at the unexpected compliment.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "But really, it's no trouble. Everyone deserves to be treated with kindness, regardless of age."

The old woman chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with warmth.

"You speak like someone much older than your age," she remarked. "It's refreshing to see such maturity in a young man."

Sung-hoon smiled at the comment, feeling a pang of pride at being recognized for his maturity.

"I guess I've always been a bit more mature for my age," he admitted. "I had to grow up pretty fast."

Time Skip-

-🌃

The night air was crisp, and the streets were beginning to empty as people headed home.

Sunghoon, tired from his long shifts as

He was walking along the dimly lit street, the only light coming from the street lamps and the occasional shop window. Siwoon clung to Sunghoon's hand, his other hand clutching his worn-out penguin plushie

The soft noises of the night, like distant conversations and cars passing by, filled the air, creating a comforting background hum as they walked together.

As The street was slowly winding down for the night, the sounds of music and laughter coming from the few bars that were still open.

Despite the late hour, there were still a few people about, either heading home from work or enjoying a late night out

Sunghoon glanced down at Si-woon, who was looking a bit sleepy, his small head starting to droop.

"Are you tired, buddy?" he asked softly, gently squeezing his hand.

Siwoon gave a tiny nod, blinking up at Sunghoon with heavy eyelids.

His grip on the penguin plushie didn't loosen, though. He held onto it like it was a lifeline.

Sunghoon smiled a bit, his heart swelling with affection.

"Just a bit longer, we're almost home," he reassured Siwoon, giving his hand another squeeze.

After a few more minutes, they finally reached their small apartment building. The front door gave a familiar creak as Sunghoon pushed it open,

the faint sound of the TV from their neighbors' apartment filtered through the thin walls

Inside, the cramped one-bedroom apartment was dimly lit by a small lamp. The living room was clean but sparse,

only a small couch, a coffee table, and a worn- out rug on the floor.

Siwoon's toys were neatly stacked in one corner, and the kitchen was visible through a small archway.

Sunghoon quietly closed the door behind him and turned to Siwoon, who had perked up a bit upon seeing the familiar surroundings.

"We're home, buddy," he said softly, gently coaxing him to let go of his penguin plushie so he could take off his small shoes.

Si-woon reluctantly released his penguin, his small hands coming up to rub at his eyes. He was clearly exhausted, his usual energetic demeanor all but gone

Sunghoon knelt down in front of his son, his heart aching at the sight of his tired child.

"You're exhausted, huh?" he asked softly, brushing a gentle hand through Si-woon's messy hair.

Siwoon nodded, his small body swaying with exhaustion.

He clumsily reached out to Sunghoon, his arms stretching out in a silent request to be picked up.

Sunghoon obliged, lifting Siwoon up into his arms with ease.

The boy's small body molded against him, his head falling against his shoulder as he snuggled in, his eyes half-closed.

Sunghoon held him close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Let's get you to bed," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle. He carried Siwoon into the small bedroom, the room was lit up by a small night light in the corner.

He laid Siwoon down on the small twin-sized bed, pulling the covers up to his chest.

He then sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand continuing to brush gentle strokes across Siwoon's hair, his thumb gently rubbing his forehead.

his eyes already fluttering closed as he curled onto his side, clutching his penguin plushie close to his heart.

Siwoon's eyelids fluttered open fighting against the pull of sleep.

He looked up at his father, his small hand reaching out to grab the front of Sunghoon's shirt, clutching it tightly

Sunghoon smiled down at him, his tired eyes filled with love. "I'm here,"

he reassured him quietly. "You can go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

he whispered, continuing to soothe him. He gently pried Siwoon's fingers off his shirt, carefully folding his small hand back under the covers

Siwoon's eyes finally closed, his grip loosening as he gave in to the pull of sleep.

His small chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his mouth slightly open in a peaceful, exhausted sleep.

Sunghoon watched him for a few more moments, as watched his son asleep, his eyes tracing over the small boy's face, taking in his every feature.

Siwoon looked so tiny and vulnerable in his sleep, his breath coming out in soft little puffs

He stayed seated on the edge of the bed, his hand still brushing gently through Si-woon's hair, as he watched his son sleep.

his gaze soft and affectionate. He reached out to straighten the covers, then gently pressed a kiss to the top of Siwoon's head.

he stood up quietly, his movements slow and measured to not disturb the sleeping boy. Siwoon was still fast asleep, clutching his penguin plushie tightly.

He looked back to Siwoon one more time, his heart clenching in his chest.

The boy was fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the weight the world sat on his father's shoulders.

He then carefully left the room, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear if Si-woon woke up.

He let out a weary sigh as he walked into the living room, the weight of the day finally catching up to him.

He plopped down onto the couch, the worn-out cushions sinking beneath his weight. He leaned back,

his head resting against the back of the couch, and closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the day starting to hit him.

He could feel his muscles aching under his clothes, a subtle reminder of the double-shifts he's been working lately.

He knew he should probably get some sleep, but his mind was still racing with thoughts of work, bills, and the never-ending challenges of being a single dad.

After a few moments of stillness, he opened his eyes and took out his wallet, fishing out the crumpled bills he had earned from his two shifts. He counted them, his eyes taking in the pitiful sum. Even putting in all those extra hours, he was still barely making ends meet.

He sighed again, the weight of his financial struggles pressing down on him like a heavy boulder.

He folded the money back up and tucked it back into his wallet, silently adding it to the growing list of worries.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second echoing in the quiet living room. Sunghoon sat there in silence for a long while, his mind swimming with thoughts and worries.

The sound of the clock was almost deafening in the quiet, the only other sound coming from the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

He looked over at the small kitchen, the only real food currently in the fridge were a few apples and some leftover rice from the night before.

He knew he needed to get groceries soon, but he also knew it would be a struggle to make it to the end of the week with the budget he had.

He was about to get up and pour himself a glass of water when he heard a soft shuffling sound coming from the bedroom. He immediately paused,

-

As soon as Sunghoon walked into the room, he saw Siwoon tossing and turning in his bed,

small whimpers and unintelligible words falling from his lips. The boy was clearly having a nightmare.

Sunghoon quickly made his way over to the bed, his heart aching at the sight of his son distressed in his sleep.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Siwoon's shoulder. "Siwoon," he said quietly, his voice laced with concern.

"Wake up, buddy. You're dreaming."

Siwoon's small face contorted in distress, his eyes still firmly closed.

"Don't leave...Papa..." he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt his heart clench in his chest at the thought of his son dreaming about him leaving.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassured him softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Siwoon's back.

"Papa's right here, it's just a bad dream."

But Siwoon didn't seem to hear him, his distress only increasing.

He tossed and turned in the bed, small whimpers and mumbled pleas falling from his lips.

"Don't leave... please... don't leave again..."

Sunghoon felt a stab of pain in his heart. Again. The word echoed in his head, fueling his guilt.

He gently shook Siwoon's shoulder again, his voice growing more urgent.

"Siwoon, wake up. You're dreaming, it's just a dream," he repeated, desperately trying to reach his son through his nightmare.

Siwoon's eyes suddenly snapped open, his small body jolting upright in the bed. He looked around frantically, his eyes wide and frightened.

When he finally spotted Sunghoon, sitting on the edge of the bed, a sob escaped his lips.

"Papa," he whimpered, his small hands reaching out towards him.

Sunghoon wasted no time in scooping him up into his arms, holding him close against his chest. Siwoon clung to him tightly, his small body trembling with the aftermath of the nightmare.

"Shh, it's okay. You're okay," Sunghoon whispered, rubbing soothing circles on Siwoon's back.

He could feel the boy's heart racing against his own chest, the panicked heartbeat slowly calming down with each passing second.

He sat there, holding Siwoon against him, his own heart heavy with the weight of his guilt.

He knew what his son's nightmare was about, and the realization only amplified the guilt he carried with him every day.

"It was just a dream. Papa's here, I'm not leaving," he repeated in a soft, comforting whisper.

Siwoon's small hands gripped tightly at the front of Sunghoon's shirt, like a lifeline.

He buried his face against his father's chest, his tears dampening the fabric. Sunghoon held him close, his own eyes welling up at the sight of his son's distress.

He continued to rub soothing circles on his back, his hand gently stroking the boy's hair as he whispered reassurances.

"It's okay, buddy. Everything's okay. Papa's here, I promise."

They sat like that for a long moment, the silence only broken by the sound of Siwoon's small sobs.

Sunghoon held him close, murmuring comfort in his ear, his heart aching with each hitch in his son's breathing.

After a while, Siwoon's sobs subsided, his body growing heavy with exhaustion.

His small fists slowly let go of Sunghoon's shirt, his head resting limply against his father's chest.

Sung-hoon gently pulled back to look at his son.

Siwoon's face was tear-streaked, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looked utterly exhausted, his body sagging against Sunghoon's chest.

"You're alright," Sunghoon whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Siwoon's head.

"It was just a dream. Papa's here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Siwoon mumbled something unintelligible against his chest, nuzzling his face further into his shirt.

His eyes were slowly drooping closed again, the exhaustion of the nightmare and the emotional release taking its toll

Sunghoon noticed the change in his son's breathing, the deep, even breaths signaling that he had finally fallen asleep again.

Carefully, he laid Siwoon back down on the bed, his hand gently stroking his hair

As Siwoon settled back into sleep, Sunghoon stayed there for a few moments, watching his son's face.

The fear and distress of the nightmare were replaced now with the peaceful, innocent look of a child in deep sleep.

He continued to stroke Siwoon's hair, his touch gentle and loving, .

trying not to wake the child. He tucked the covers around Siwoon's small frame, making sure he was properly tucked in and wouldn't get cold during the night

As Sunghoon sank back down on the edge of the bed, his hand resuming its gentle stroking motions through Siwoon's hair.

He watched as his son slept peacefully, his small chest rising and falling steadily with each breath.

He sat there quietly, his mind replaying the earlier scene of the look of fear on his son's face. His heart ached,

he don't know why siwoon always have the same nightmare of him leaving siwoon it squeeze his heart too much seeing his son's eye filled with tear & fear for him, the fear Of his father leaving him, how he plea in sleep how he tremble.

He continued stroking Siwoon's hair, his fingers tracing the soft strands, a soothing repetitive motion.

"Don't worry little men, no matter what is this nightmare about! I won't let that nightmare to be real in your life."

" no matter what happens.. and what comes next.. your papa is always with you I promise." he said,

-🌄

The first rays of sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

Siwoon stirred in his bed, his small body shifting under the covers.

He slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings.

Siwoon turned his head slightly, his eyes settling on the figure on the edge of his bed.

His father, Sunghoon, was slumped over, his upper body resting against the bed. He was fast asleep, one hand still on Siwoon's hair.

Siwoon silently shifted in bed, sliding his small body closer to his father. He looked at him for a moment, taking in his father's peaceful, albeit uncomfortable, sleeping position.

He knew from his own experience and from what his father had told him that sleeping in such positions could make the some body parts hurt.

With great effort, Siwoon managed to pull the blanket up to his father's shoulders, tucking it around him gently.

As he adjusted the blanket, he looked up at his father's sleeping face.

Sunghoon looked so worn-out, his face weary even in sleep. His heart ached at the sight of his father like this, knowing the constant struggles and pressures he's been under,

even tho siwoon is half 5 year old kid he is bit mature in his ownself than other kids, who just understand his father's struggle pains sometimes he can feel it his heart ache squeez,

maybe that is what called connection of blood ? Or maybe he just understand what the people around them says or talk to him, about his father? & him, he felt hurt and that where he earned that knowledge.?

Once done tucking his father in, Siwoon sat on the bed for a few more moments, just staring at his sleeping father He wanted so badly to take some of his struggle away, to ease his father's pain. But he was just a child, and there was only so much he could do.

After a few more minutes, he slowly edged off the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might disturb his father's sleep.

He padded silently towards the door, clutching his penguin plushy in ome arm, turning back to look at his father one last time before quietly closing the bedroom door behind him.

Once in the living room, he glanced around the small room, a little balcony over there and a small kitchen at the doorway side,

the room with an couch small coffee table, was quiet in the early morning light, the only sounds coming from the slight hustle of the city outside. He turned to the kitchen, his stomach grumbling a little.

He walked over to the kitchen, his small bare feet making no sound on the cold floor.

He opened the fridge, the light from inside casting a cold glow on his face.

There was a small tupperware of leftover rice, a couple of apples, and a nearly empty carton of eggs.

His stomach growled again., & he was too hungry to care.

He reached up to the top shelf of the fridge, stretching as far as his little arms would allow, and grabbed one of the apples.

He hopped down from the stool he was standing on and took a big bite out of the apple.

The cold crisp, sweet taste filled his mouth, instantly making his stomach feel a bit better.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, taking large bites of the apple as he looked around him.

The kitchen was small and modest, the countertops a bit worn with age.

But it was functional, and it was home. He looked over at the small dining table in the corner, the only other furniture in the kitchen aside from the fridge, stove, and sink.

He took another big bite of his apple, the crunch seeming oddly out of place in the quiet of the morning.

He looked around the kitchen again, his eyes falling on the stove.

He knew his father would need to start getting ready soon to go to work again.

-

The convenience store was warm and bright, the hum of the air conditioning blending with the soft music coming from the overhead speaker.

It was a slow afternoon, the stream of customers coming in and out of the store was sparse but steady

The small bell on the door of the convenience store chimed as it opened, letting in a gust of cool air.

A few customers milled around the narrow aisles, browsing the shelves and chatting with each other.

Siwoon sat in a corner, he was clinging tightly to his favorite plushy, a cute penguin with a blue-patterned scarf around its neck.

He had his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, the tip of his feet not quite touching the floor, he watched as his father working he was superb busy today.

Today Sunghoon wasn't working behind the cash counter, but restocking shelves.,

taking the boxes, cartons inside from the truck outside he was too busy today barely even has the time to breath, today their boss is here working on cash counter,

Sunghoon was moving back and forth, carrying heavy boxes and restocking the shelves with drinks and instant ramen. His face was a sheen of sweat, his breathing was coming out in labored gasps.

The boss was keeping a close eye on the other 4 staffs & on him, barking orders to keep the store running smoothly

From time to time, Sunghoon would glance over at Siwoon, who was sitting quietly in the corner,

his attention on his penguin plush. The sight of his son brought a small, sad smile to Sunghoon's face, but it quickly vanished as he was shouted at by the boss to hurry up.

The afternoon rush was on, and the store was bustling with activity.

Customers came in and out, grabbing essentials before heading back to their offices.

Sunghoon continued to restock the shelves, his muscles aching from the constant lifting and bending.

"Hurry it up, everyone We have a lot to finish before closing," the boss barked from the cash register.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, his hands grabbing another heavy box of instant ramen packs.

He forced himself to keep going, his body protesting with every move. He knew he had to keep up the pace,

Sunghoon huffed, stacking up more boxes of instant noodles on the shelf.

His body was screaming for a break, but he didn't dare to stop. Not with the boss around and watching his every move

He glanced over at Siwoon again, his heart clenching at the sight of his son's small form sitting in the corner.

He knew Siwoons is probably hungry and bored, by now its 01:19 pm at clock,

but he couldn't do anything about it right now. He had to finish the work first, and then if there was even time, he would take a small break to get him something to eat.

He knew he had to keep going, for Siwoon's sake.

As Sunghoon was restocking the shelves, he passed by the corner where Siwoon was sitting.

He quickly knelt down, pretending to arrange some bags of chips on the lower shelf.

"Hey Buddy," he said quietly, keeping his voice down so the boss wouldn't hear him.

"Why don't you eat some biscuits from bag hm?" He kept the best of his smiley face, & as much as cheerful cool expression in his voice he could infornt of his son,

He pointed subtly towards Siwoon's small backpack, beside siwoon the biscuit packet peaking out of the open zipper, Siwoon nodded silently, & also gave him the smile face as his father was giving.

Siwoon nodded silently, pretending he was okay. In reality, he was starting to feel a bit hungry.

As Siwoon silently sat there, waiting for his father to move away, cz the biscuits he is talking about, were already finished many days ago.

That He hadn't told his father about it yet, knowing that his father was already busy, tired with work and expenses. he didn't want to add to his worries more

Siwoon sat quietly, his small hands gripped tightly around his penguin plushy.

While his father continued to work, Siwoon remained silent and motionless in the corner, watching him go back and forth.

He knew he would soon be asked if he had eaten anything, and he had already decided to lie and say that he had. He didn't want to burden his father more,

Besides, he could deal with a little hunger. It was nothing compared to the exhaustion on his father's face.

As Sunghoon finished restocking the shelf and moved away, Siwoon pretended to rummage through his bag as if he was eating something, just in case his father looked back

All the while, he felt a pang of guilt for not being honest with his father even tho he promised him, but he pushed the feeling aside.

He knew his father had enough on his plate without worrying about snacks too. The soft growl of his stomach was a reminder of his own hunger, but he ignored

"Okay everyone great work! For today"

the boss said little clapping his hand "since its lunch time already.. lets take a break & today's lunch is from me guys"

The boss' voice echoed through the store, announcing the lunch break. Everyone in the store cheered a little, thankful for the break and the free lunch.

Sunghoon, too, felt his mood slightly lifted, the prospect of a lunch break was like a small relief after hours of relentless work.

"Just don't take too long," the boss added, a slight warning tone in his voice, "we have to finish the restocking by closing." With that,

he turned and walked towards the back office, probably to get the food he had ordered.

The other employees started chattering amongst themselves, some heading outside for a quick smoke,

others stretching their aching bodies. Sunghoon glanced over at Siwoon who was still sitting in the corner, playing quietly with his penguin plushy.

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Si-woon hadn't eaten anything. He sighed and walked over to him, crouching down next to him. He reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately

"Buddy! Have you eaten the biscuits?" Sunghoon asked,

Siwoon swallowed, his small fingers fidgeting with the penguin plush’s soft fur. He could feel his father's expectant gaze on him, waiting for an answer.

The lie he had prepared earlier was on the tip of his tongue, ready to be uttered.

But as he looked up into his father's tired yet kind eyes, he found himself faltering. His heart ached with guilt.

He loved his father, and the last thing he wanted to do was lie to him.

However, the thought of worrying his father further, or worse, making him feel worse because Siwoon was hungry, made him hold his tongue.

He swallowed again, forcing a small nod of confirmation, "yes did appa.." he muttered softly, unable to meet his father's gaze.

He fidgeted some more with the penguin plush, the lie he just told making his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Sunghoon studied Siwoon's face for a moment, his eyes searching for any signs of untruthfulness.

But siwoon's gaze was averted, and aside from the slight hunch of his shoulders, he gave no indication that he was lying

noticing Siwoon's discomfort and the way he was avoiding eye contact.

Instinctively, he knew something was off. He gently placed his large hand on the boy's little shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his voice soft but probing.

He looked down at the half open backpack beside, the biscuit packet visible from where it was tucked away.

He hated pressing Siwoon like this, but he also knew when his son was lying.

Maybe it was a father's sixth sense, but he could tell that Siwoon hadn't eaten.

"Buddy, you can tell me," he encouraged, keeping his voice low and reassuring.

"Did you really eat the biscuits?" He gave the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze, hoping to coax the truth out.

He waited, giving Si-woon time to respond.

He could see the conflict in the child's eyes, the internal struggle between telling the truth and continuing the lie.

"Hey park Sunghoon are you gonna come here and eat?!! Or not! The food is getting cold" his boss screamed.

Sunghoon looked up, startled by his boss’s sudden booming voice.

He had been so caught up in the moment with Siwoon, he had almost forgotten about the lunch break.

"Yeah, I’m coming!" he called back, his voice slightly agitated. He gave Siwoon a small, reassuring smile. Before standing up.

"How about some lunch, buddy?" he asked,

trying to keep his voice light. He smiled warmly at Siwoon. And grabbed his hand walking toward office room.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

_______________TO BE CONTINUED

(I didn't recheck so unsee my mistakes in grammar spelling I hope you guys enjoyed the first one chap look forward for more. Do note & reblog🍃 & let me know your opinion pls :' ()

and lastly so soon sorry for late update >:

[speakofthedebbie]

by popular demand (re: one person) some radioapple fic recs!! (i hope thats what you meant lol most of the fics i read are just radioapple)

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 3 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic

im not sure if its meant to be read as such but it kinda feels like a squeal to bedtime rituals in a way (edit: not meant to be read as such, just the same vibe)

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut and ive been trying to step back from that because "ive seen worse" isnt a valid excuse for that torture actually)

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i am foaming at the mouth till friday (depending on how this goes, that might be tomorrow or today)

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. also emily is there (fallen) tho we havent seen her in a sec. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6(?) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and minzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent of for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

cannot stress it enough but this is a WORKING list i WILL be coming back to it bc these are purely the fics i could think if off the top of my head. IN FACT, if any of you have radioapple fics you love, SEND THEM THE FUCK IN! i am one person whos only been in this fandom for 4 months, and reading fics/shipping radioapple even less, theres bound to be some ones i missed that you think are Worthy™️! and if theyre nsfw then at the very least it shouldnt be the main focus

EDIT: so sorry anyone who reblogged this before had to see the disgusting unedited version. literally just found out that tumblr doesnt apply edits to reblogs. what the fuck

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F chap 4

[Previous chap][Ao3 chap][Masterlist][next chap]

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

Jason here, with some bonding on multiple levels!

It took Danny's core a total of four days for it to be satisfied with Tim's safety in the cave while recovering. Four days plus the three since before Tim got shot since Danny's checked in with his friends back in Amity.

He's honestly surprised the Boomerang hasn't beaned him yet.

Only after making sure he had a few methods of keeping Tim safe remotely and telling his new friend—as much as he was able to without talking—that he'd be gone for a bit did he fly back over to his old squat house and retrieve the rest of his things, including his phone. The new guys there didn't seem like the friendly sort, but when you can go invisible that's not really a problem.

His go bag was still in the same place he'd left it four days ago—inside the first floor bathroom's wall—along with the change of clothes and cash Sam had shoved in it on his way out of Amity. He took it easily and shot up through the top of the building, missing the guy sleeping in the bath tub's panicked start.

Hesitantly he turned his phone back on. The moment it was done the startup sequence it began vibrating nonstop, and Danny had to wonder how much of that was his friends worrying versus actual updates about his hometown. Scrolling through and, yep, that's a lot of 'answer or I'll kick your ass' texts from Sam, probably one every other hour since the second day, judging by the time stamps. The texts he was getting from Tuck were much the same, albeit much less violent and graphic about what bodily part's would be stuck where if he didn't answer soon.

Picking a direction and shooting off Danny soon found himself sailing high above the Atlantic ocean. He made sure Gotham bay was only a spec in the distance (to fool any attempts at trying to track his phone call, just to be safe) then hit the group dial on their chat.

Two connection tones sounded on top of each-other, and the first words Danny heard from his friends in a week were "give me one good reason why we aren't already in Gotham looking for your half-dead ass after you literally ghosted us for a week."

"Hi to you too, Sam," he chuckled in response. It was nice actually getting to talk to someone, with actual words.

"Ohhh no. You don't get to pull the 'Hi to you too, Sam' bit after missing two check-ins in a row with no explanation."

"Danny…" Tucker's voice came in with a lot less fire in it, but with twice the worry of Sam's. "Why is your phone pinging two hundred miles off the coast of New Jersey? Did you get into something again?"

Ah, yes. His friends knew him so well.

"To answer both of your questions, my phone is pinging two hundred miles from New Jersey because I am two hundred miles from New Jersey, give or take with the altitude. I didn't mean to ghost you, really, something came up and I forgot the phone at my old place."

"Old place? Danny, what came up that you had to move safehouses? What do you mean something came up?" Oh yeah, Sam wasn't happy with him. If he weren't safely riding in international waters he was sure Sam would find him and make sure no one found his corpse. If he could leave a corpse that is.

"Yeahhh… about that?" He let out a nervous chuckle, free hand travelling to the back of his neck. "I kinda made a friend?"

"What?!" Sam's shriek had Danny's ears swivelling down and his toes curling at the intensity.

"Danny, I say this with all the love in my cold, dead heart, but what the actual fuck would make you think making a friend while on the run was a good idea?!"

"Danny dude," Tucker spoke up, "I thought you've had some bad ideas before, but this. Man, at least tell me you didn't give out your real name?"

"Heh heh eh… funny story? They kinda gave me a name."

The statement was met with only the sound of the rolling waves underneath him. As the quiet grew he started to get fidgety, maybe not starting from the beginning wasn't the best idea…

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a woosh of air passed Sam's mic as a single word came over the call. "Explain" left no room for jokes, rambling it is then.

"So I may or may not have been hanging around this guy at night while doing some flying to clear my head. The guy seemed nice enough and pretty popular so I kinda thought 'whats the harm?' and started haunting the guy when he went out 'cause I was bored and we kinda grew into this on official friendship between us? Cause apparently he knew I was there even though I was invisible like all of the time, so cause I knew he knew I was there I started helping him with the things he was doing? Like little not obvious things but apparently he noticed him anyway cause his family is like a bunch of detectives and so he notices things. Anyway like four days ago he was shot and I've kinda been with him since cause my core thinks he's someone I need to protect even though I didn't actually know the guys name till after he got shot and-"

"Danny, dude, this is like, waaaay too much info all at once. You got a spark notes version of this story?" Tucker cut in. Having a friend that both had a tendency to ramble and no need to breathe could give him a headache sometimes.

Before Danny could start back up, Sam cut him off "... Danny, what's the name of the guy you were stalking?" It was phrases like a question, but with who it was coming from, it was more of a demand.

Panicking he tries to evade the question, "stalking? I wasn't stalking him, I was… hanging out? Without him knowing it was a hangout?"

"Danny…"

"I mean really, stalking is such a strong word. I'd prefer the term non-consensual bodyguarding."

"Danny."

"It's not like I was even doing anything usually, just hanging around the same places he was. At night… alone."

"Danny, the name!" Sam snapped. He really shouldn't tell his friends, because if they know his new friend is Tim Drake-Wayne then they'll want to know why he was hanging around him at night, and why he got shot. Those were not questions he wanted to answer at the moment. He knew what they'd say if he did.

"I can't tell you," he blurted out.

"...What?" Oh, oh yeah, that was a bad play, Fenton.

"I can't tell you his name, you'll get mad at me," he knew she sounded like a child, but his friends were always the more responsible parent types anyway.

"Danny dude, what in Clockworks name do you think will make her any more angry than she already is?" While Tucker brought up a good point, he already knew the answer to that question.

"...Timothy Drake-Wayne?" Was all he could say to reply.

Once again all that joined him was the sound of the rolling waves. Were they shocked? Angry? (Of course they were angry, angrier?) It was really hard to gauge his friends' responses with just their voices.

Finally Sam whispered "what do you mean, Timothy Drake-Wayne?" That voice. He knew that voice, if he were any closer to her when she spoke in that voice he'd be halfway through the zone already trying to hide.

The heat of a thousand suns couldn't compare to the fury in that one question.

"I mean, I started haunting Tim Drake-Wayne accidentally? And then sorta got attached?"

Sam was trying to re-kill him through the phone somehow, he knew it. Tucker graciously offered an out with "Why was the co-CEO of Wayne Enterprise going out enough in Gotham to require a ghostly bodyguard Danny? The dude is, like, super kidnappable right?"

Ancients damn Tucker and his logical questioning making Danny want to drop his phone in the ocean and fly back as fast as possible. Unfortunately, now that they knew who he was haunting, they could just show up at Wayne manor to find him. That would definitely out him to Tim's family, he hadn't even done any pranking with the guy yet.

Audibly sighing into the mic, Danny's hand travels back to his neck as he speaks. "You guys gotta understand that what I'm going to tell you next is a secret, okay? Like, my level of secret secret. Tucker, this line is encrypted right?"

At Tucker's confused sound of approval he continues.

"So originally I didn't actually know I was following Tim Drake. I was following Red Robin. I only know who he is now because I followed him to the Batcave after he got shot."

He really should have something to do for when he accidentally stuns his friends into silence. Fidgeting can get boring pretty fast after a bit.

After another eternity a groan came from Sam's end. Danny hoped that was a good sign.

"So you were stalking a vigilante and accidentally put him in your 'I'd take a bullet for you' list? Danny, that's all kinds of stupid. He's a vigilante, it's his job to fight and protect, not be protected! And what were you saying about your core bonding to him?" Well at least she sounded more 'tired of this shit' and less 'grind him to dust' now, Danny for the win?

"You know how I get all ghostly protective about you guys getting in danger? It's kinda like that with him now. It feels so weird having my instincts labelling someone outside of Amity as one of my humans. Kinda the whole 'I've only known him for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone here and then myself' meme. It's creepy, and not the good kind."

"I hate that you just described your ghostly instinct to protect people with a meme, dude." Tucker half groaned, half chuckled. At least he appreciated the humour in it.

"At least he's acknowledging he's getting into stalker protective territory, before he just thought he was being a helicopter friend." Sam added in. He hated when she brought up his early phases, when he still didn't know how being a ghost worked (he still doesn't, really.)

"So how are we going to play this, dude? Want me to hack into the Batcave, see what they got on you?" He could hear the gears in Tucker's head spinning, trying to find the best code bits to use on the bats firewalls. Danny chuckled at the image of Tuck going against  a family of trained hackers and coming out on top.

"Nah, Tuck. I-" Something cut him off, there was a buzzing in his core. The kind he knew was meant as a silent alarm. Tim was in trouble and he had to get back now.

"Guys, I gotta go. I'll check back with you later." He hung up, hearing his friends' voices of protest as he did so. Stowing his phone, he shot back to Gotham at mach speed.

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

It took Tim a while to get used to the fact that he was no longer ignoring the cold spot staying in his room. They were surprisingly easy to talk to, once they got past the fact that Arct could really only do yes or no questions with the statue as help. Trying to figure out that his friend had to go do something for a while took some time, especially with just the yes or no probing.

Before he left, Tim asked Arct to get him something to read, they came back with his laptop and the stack of files and books from his nightstand (how did it know which bedroom was his?) With one last Bob of the galaxy, his friend set it down and floated out, bringing with him the now comforting cold.

He'd finished up all the work emails saying he'd been in an accident and was just starting on the novel he's been meaning to read when he heard the revv of an engine coming to rest in the cave. As it was currently the day all of the usual bats were either at work or school, or resting up for tonight's patrol. Only a few members came in during the day, and he was about to try and figure it out when the question was answered for him.

Jason didn't even knock, instead kicking the door open with his boot and striding in like he lived here. Tim could only give a mildly annoyed glare as he watched his second eldest brother plop himself down in the chair next to him and kick his feet up on the side of the bed.

He sighed, realizing the book would have to wait again. Closing it and returning it to the stack on the side table, he looked to Jason, now with Red Hood helmet and domino mask off. He opened his mouth to speak but Jason beat him to it with. "Why d'you smell like death? I thought you survived the whole bullet to the chest thing."

Okay, that's not what Tim was expecting to come out of his brother's mouth. Not even a hello? Hell, how'd he even know he was in the medbay? He voiced that thought and he got a "group chat," in reply. Of course it was the family group chat.

Tim sighed and readjusted his position in bed. Talking with Jason was always tiring with how little respect he got from the former Robin. He knew Jason felt he replaced him when he died, but the fact he brought it up over and over again really didn't make him feel any better about it.

"Yo, Replacement, you gonna answer me? Why the hell do you smell like you took a shower in pit water? How'd you even find a pit not guarded by the League to begin with?"

"Do you really think I'd still be in a bed in medbay if I went anywhere near a Lazarus pit?" Tim really didn't know why his brother thought he had anything to do with the thing that brought him back before, he didn't really care either.

He watched as Jason scrunched up his nose and looked around the room.

"This place reeks of death more than the pit caves Ra's used. If you didn't come back, then why does it smell so bad?"

Jason was more connected to the pit than his other family members who'd been around them, Tim knew he wasn't lying about the smell. A trickle of cold creeped down his back as he started getting an idea as to what caused it. He didn't want to be right.

His older brother had redoubled his investigation, trying to pinpoint the source of the stench. Eyes finally landing on his bedside table, he swept the stack of papers onto the floor and grabbed the previously obscured ice statue. Tim's creeping feeling got stronger as his brother slowly turned to face him, green seeping into his normally blue eyes.

"Where the hell did you get this?" Jason asked with forced calm, gripping the statuette so hard Tim thought it might crumble.

"A friend gave it to me," he replied smoothly. It was the truth, his friend made him the statue of suspiciously never melting ice and he didn't question it.

The first twisting the collar of his hospital gown told him he maybe should have, as he was yanked forwards, pulling at the wires and tubes attached to him. Nearly off the bed now, Jason asked with Lazarus green in his eyes. "Who. Gave. You. This?"

Tim struggled to keep the groan of pain from escaping him. The drainage tube in his chest was being pulled in a very not fun way, and he would really like to not have Alfred redo his work in patching him up.

"I told you, I got it from a friend," he ground out.

Jason was about to say something else when an invisible force knocked him to the side and off his feet. The room dropped twenty degrees and the lights started flickering as Tim could feel hands on him. Cold and too long to be human, they kept him from falling forward off the bed and face planting on the floor. Gingerly laying him back down, his friend made sure nothing was taken out or reopened before raising in the air. Tim could feel the anger radiating off his friend in frigid waves, falling heavy like mist off dry ice and charged with electricity.

Jason could feel it too, as he looked exactly where Tim knew Arcturus was floating and pointed, hand cupping his cheek and still holding the statue.

"How the hell did you get a pit demon as a pet?!" He exclaimed.

Confused, Tim asked "what the hell is a pit demon?"

He watched as his brother looked from him to Arcturus and back, face cemented in shock and disbelief.

"You mean you don't know what the hell this is?!" Jason waves his arms in his friend's general direction. "Why are you not freaked out by this then?!"

The cold anger had died down some, replaced by static white noise and breaking ice. Shrugging as best he could, Tim replied, "he's not the weirdest thing I've seen, and he's pretty friendly too."

Jason was thrown. Could Tim not see the black cloud of twisted human floating in front of him? With eyes greener than Lazarus water on an expanse of black, hair dancing and jerking like it was underwater and getting electrocuted at the same time. The thing was only vaguely human shaped, a black cloud in the form of a body with no legs, and arms clad in white gloves ending in claws long and sharp enough to be daggers. He didn't want to look at it for long, its beady eyes stared right into his soul and face contorted into a snarl that held too many teeth for anything natural.

Tim still looked confused, why was he confused? Jason was about to get re-killed by something the pit water inside him curled up and cowered in fear of. He doubted he stood a snowball's chance in hell against this thing and his brother was sitting there like nothing was wrong. 

Okay, Danny clearly missed a memo before flying into his friend's rescue, so he's maybe a little confused on some things. Like firstly, Tim wasn't actually acting like he was in danger from this guy, despite him nearly pulling out all the equipment helping Tim to heal. His friend looked confused and mildly annoyed at most by New Guy's presence. Secondly, New Guy stank. Rotting ectoplasm stench seeped from him like he got dipped in a zone waste pool. Other than the green tinged in his eyes, though, he seemed otherwise okay, which was just another point of confusion. Lastly, his thoughts echoed what Tim had asked before. What the hell was a pit demon?

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled offhandedly. He knew neither human could understand him—ghost speak couldn't be made by human mouths or processed entirely by human brains. Regular people just heard crackling static and creaking glaciers with emotional intent when he spoke it. He turned to check on Tim more thoroughly when he heard an unexpected reply.

"Then why the hell is a pit demon staying around my little brother," Jason breathed. Replying to the things grumbling wasn't the smartest thing to do, but the fact that something he thought wasn't even sentient had said something he could understand had basically turned his brain off.

That couldn't have been directed at Danny, could it? Maybe not going human for a while had him hearing things. Checking Tim over again helped his form settle at least, but now his brain spun with the possibilities. Also, this dude was Tim's big brother? Pretty dick move of him to hurt Tim for their first meeting then. Not even Dick did that.

Tim was still looking between Jason and Arct. Did his brother just reply to the static hissing he'd heard before? Was that actually his friend trying to communicate? But then how could Arct understand English? And lastly.

"You didn't answer my question Jason—what's a pit demon, and why do you think there's one in this room?" If Jason knew what his friend was then maybe they could figure out a way to communicate better.

Okay, so apparently Tim didn't know what the affront to nature tucking him in was, that was fine. Jason had to swallow down the bile working its way up his throat. At least the thing's form had settled enough he could look at it now. It was almost- Jason couldn't say human looking. With purple tinged skin, pointed ears and fingers, and eyes that shone brighter and greener than any pit he'd come across, no way could this thing actually pass for human. Didn't stop it from trying though, it had formed actual legs while Jason had been staring, making the thing about as tall as he was. The clothes it was wearing, a baggy black hoodie and cargo pants almost made the thing resemble a teenager, one who prefers comfort and function over style. Its gaze swept over him and he'd realized he hadn't said anything for too long.

Keeping his eyes on the demon next to his brother, Jason stood up on shaking legs.

"A pit demon is just what it sounds like, a thing that couldn't possibly be human that crawled out of a Lazarus pit. Surprised demon brat hasn't already tried to chase it off, but I remember something about only those 'chosen by the pit' being able to see it or some shit. Don't remember much else other than that they're extremely violent and attack anything with a heartbeat."

Well, Tim was at a loss. His friend was supposedly from a race that came out of the Lazarus pits to attack people, yet so far his friend has only hurt those who hurt Tim first. He turned his gaze to where he felt his friend standing, remembering what he could of when they'd saved him. Sure, Arcturus wasn't human, but he wasn't that monstrous, right?

"That's bullshit," came out of Danny before he could stop himself. So that's what people thought of the ghosts that used the waste pools? He knew they could be used to travel between the zone and the human world, but they stank of rotting ectoplasm too much for him to ever want to try it. Sighing he used a bit of intangibility to swipe the statuette out of Tim's brothers—Jason's?—hand. Only revelling slightly from the full body jerk he caused in doing so.

Okay, so, Jason wasn't hearing things before. He clearly heard the thing speak. It was also aware of how terrifying it was if the smile at making Jason recoil was anything to go off.

"You do realize this thing is horrifying to look at, right?" He told his brother, not taking his eyes off the thing that could potentially eviscerate the whole house.

Tim's eyes grew wide. "You can see them?!" He exclaimed in surprise.

Danny's words echoed Tim's almost perfectly. "You can see me?" The static in his voice popping like a live wire as he sat the statuette down on the nightstand.

"Yeah I can see you, ya freak of nature. How'd you end up in Gotham? There aren't any pits for you to crawl out from near here." Was Jason possibly inciting the anger of the thing that could rip him to shreds? Yes, yes he was, but he had to know whether or not a new pit had formed close to Gotham in case the League came a-calling.

"Ancients, you can understand me?!" Danny had to keep his eyes from going beyond human wide. He was talking to someone that wasn't dead. In ghost speak! Was it a side effect of the waste water in his system, maybe? How it got there was a question he didn't need to know right now as he just looked at the guy that had answered him.

"Yeah?" Jason drawled wearily, that was not the reaction he expected. "You sound like you're talking over a Tesla coil, but you're speaking English, right?" He looked to his brother for aid but only saw the calculated look all bats used when they didn't want to openly appear confused.

Looking back, the thing had risen from its seat, literally. It was floating in a sitting position about two feet above the chair.

"I've never heard of a human that could understand ghost speak before!" The thing said excitedly.

"And I've never known a pit demon that could speak at all before," he replied without thinking.

The thing cocked its head. "Well most ghosts that use the waste pools just use them to get into the human world to cause chaos, not to talk. Any ghost with any ounce of self respect would either find a natural portal or make one." 

"Ghost? Portals? Are you saying pit demons are dead people? And that they come to earth through more than just the Lazarus pits?" That was a terrifying thought. More monsters coming to earth from ways other than the pits? Who knows what destruction they could—have already—cause. "There any way to stop them?"

"No? Natural portals are random, and ghosts that can make portals themselves prefer to stay in the zone where it's safe? Why should I even be telling you this, you don't look like you have the weapons to fight a ghost. Who are you anyway?"

Jason looked at his brother (who looked entirely lost at this point) back to the pit demon—ghost?—that was watching him with suspicion, feet back in the ground and firmly seated in the chair.

"Hey, Replacement," he chuckled but cut it to a cough at the things scowl. "You haven't told your buddy about me yet? I'm hurt, really."

Finally being included into the conversation, and it was to introduce the asshole of a brother to his possibly terrifying friend? Tim sighed and waved his good hand at the end of the bed.

"Arcturus, this is my older adoptive brother, Jason Todd, aka Red Hood. Jason, this-" he motioned to the chair "-is my new friend, I call him Arcturus because he can't say his real name."

Jason snorts and finally peels his eyes off the dead thing in front of him. "Really Timmy? You see what is essentially an eldritch terror and decide to name it after a star?" At his little brother's blush he couldn't help but laugh. "How cheesy can you get?" He said between breaths.

Meanwhile, Danny was having a crisis. He had punched Red Hood. In the face. He had punched his favourite Gotham vigilante in the face. Ancients end him right now. He wanted to scream.

"I just my favourite vigilante in the face for my friend," he groaned instead, putting his face in his hands.

Jason had to laugh harder at that. He couldn't help it, you couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"Hey Timmy," he wheezed. "Your friend here just said I'm his favourite vigilante. Take that!"

Without looking up Danny took one hand off his face to point at Red Hood (ancients, Red Hood, his helmet was on the floor beside him how did he not notice?!)

"Second favourite," was all he could muster while reconsidering his half-life choices.

At the confused squawk of "hey!" He smirked and added, "Red Robin isn't an ass, so he got you beat there." 

By the way Jason was pouting and the room finally went back to its regular temperature, Tim could at least tell they weren't at each other's throats anymore.

"What did he say?" Tim asked.

"I've been demoted to second favourite. Dead guy can't handle sass." The reply had him chuckling, definitely not hostile anymore, that was good.

"Sounds like another dead guy I know," he commented. The look Jason gave him could have been angry, if the indignant undertone didn't make it so funny.

Huh, so the whole 'Jason Todd died but got better' thing wasn't just a rumour then. Interesting.

"So you're such a sore loser you came back just to spite death? Talk about petty," he joked at the vigilante as he lifted his face out of his hand. Another thing to have in common with one of his favourite heroes (anti-heroes?), they just couldn't stay dead.

Jason clicked his tongue at the ghost, "whatever you Kirby villain reject." The bark of laughter from his right and the stuttering in front of him had him feeling a lot better about his brother's safety. Yeah, he might not be able to beat the thing in front of him, but maybe he wouldn't have to. The fact that he could think clearly after not feeling the pit move since Tim's friend appeared helped.

"Alright, as fun as this meet and greet was, I need to head back to the Narrows." His brother's laughter died down as he slapped his knees and stood up. Still keeping a safe distance from Tim's dead friend he grabbed his discarded helmet and put his domino mask back on.

"Oh yeah," he heard Tim call out from behind him, "why'd you even come in the first place? I know you didn't do it just to annoy me."

Jason was glad he'd reasserted his domino mask as he half turned to view his brother. He looked him up and down one last time with a conflicted expression before turning back to walk out.

"A guy can be worried for his brother sometimes, give me some credit," he confided as he left for his bike.

The silence followed the rumble of Jason's bike out of the cave. That was not what Tim was expecting in this conversation at all. Jason came to check on him? He was worried about Tim? Shock couldn't begin to describe the mix of emotions he was feeling with that revelation.

A hum to his right brought him out of his musings as he turned his head to look at the space where his friend should be.

"So, that was my brother Jason." He huffed. "He's kind of an asshole, but he's family. The pit messed with his head a bit so he has some anger issues. Also I took over as Robin after he died, and since he's come back has pretty much thought of me as a replacement. I'm pretty sure he only uses the nickname as a joke now, though." That sounded better in his head. "He's seriously not that bad a guy though," he added on more as an afterthought.

He watched as the statuette lifted off its base as his friend showed he acknowledged the statement. A burst of cold then hit Tim square in the face. That was his friend's sign he was being self deprecating and, yeah, he kind of deserved that.

Comfortable silence enveloped the two as they both individually processed the encounter. The statue floating about half a foot off the seat of the chair in what Tim supposed was Arcturus' lap. He realized Jason had basically confirmed a few things about Arcturus through talking to him in the conversation Tim could only understand half of.

"Hey," the model twitched, "you can speak English, right? Not just that static noise that lets me tell what you're feeling?"

One dip of the statue means that yes, his friend could speak to him if he wanted to.

"Is there some reason you don't then? A reason you don't speak directly to me?" He watched as the statue stayed floating in its position for a moment, then almost reluctantly dipped a 'yes.'

"Why then?" The static that filled the room was charged with paranoia and distrust. It hurt, just a bit, but it didn't all feel directed at him.

"Do you not trust me then?" A rapid jerk to the side must count for a big 'no,' which made him feel a little better.

"…Maybe you don't trust my family?" Tim had found that if the statue didn't move, then he was halfway to the answer. Mulling the statement over a moment it dawned on him, it was stupid of him not to have realized sooner.

"You don't trust the bats, do you?" The statue dipping again meant 'yes' and tilted almost vertically. Was his friend showing he was ashamed in doing that? It didn't sting Tim quite as much as his friend not trusting him and he knew Bruce alone made a lot of reasons for any supernatural creature to stay out of Gotham. Tim turned his head to look at his lap as the gears spun in his head.

"Why did you stick around me then? I'm Red Robin, a part of Gotham's protectors, weren't I someone you should have avoided?" Maybe Tim didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask for the safety of his family. If his friend got close to him just to get to his family, well, maybe Tim wasn't as smart as he thought he was.

The crunching sound of boots under snow mixed with a tuning radio had Tim feeling things he hadn't in a while. Curiosity and childish glee filled his chest with a warmth that was almost bringing tears to his eyes. Wiping away the damp he turned back to his friend with a smile.

"You can trust me, you know. Maybe you don't right now, and that's okay. But I promise I'll get you to trust me eventually." His voice was dripping with conviction that for once wasn't forced.

And if the hum he got back wasn't charged with emotion and only gave off a little reverb? Well, he could keep that to himself.

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

Y'know, when I originally rote this chapter I thought 'Kirby villain reject' was suck a great insult for something that looked like Danny. It just fits him, given his eldretch-ness in this fic.

Also, Kidnappable should absolutely be a real word. Calling it now.

Also also! This chapter has fanart! You can find it here!

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 26 Working to exhaustion

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic/early relationship)

Setting: Prison era

Warnings: Symptoms of sleep deprivation

“This has been the worst day!” You drove your knife into yet another softened skull, instinctively angling your head to keep the dark blood and rotten brain matter from splashing across your face. The walkers were overwhelming the prison fences again. It was taking more and more manpower to get it under control each time. 

Daryl scoffed from your left but said nothing, simply stabbing any corpse within reach. Carol was on your right, nodding with a quick “sure is” in between pushing back against the failing steel and thrusting her own knife forward to keep blood-and-death-stained teeth away from her hands. 

It took hours to get the situation under control, nearly dusk before the fence workers hauled themselves inside with collective groans and shuffling feet. Dinner had come and gone but everyone was too tired for food at this point anyway. 

“Who’s on watch tonight?” Rick queried while rotating his sore shoulder. Daryl didn’t respond verbally, just raised a loose fist in the air while trudging up the stairs to his perch. You came up beside the former sheriff, both of you watching the archer disappear at the top. “You’ll be with him?”

“You know it.” You answered with a nod. Rick patted your shoulder and you parted ways. When you reached the top of the steps, you had hoped to find Daryl resting on the mattress. No such luck. Well, he was on the mattress but sitting propped against the wall, checking over his crossbow. He was undoubtedly getting ready to head up to the tower early. 

Daryl hadn’t slept in at least three days. You weren’t sure what was keeping him awake, but you’d hear him at night, moving around the prison like a restless spirit. Only you knew what to listen for when it came to the archer. 

The way he tapped the railing rhythmically on his way to the upper level and back down again. His blunt nails made little noise but it was enough. 

His steps were damn near silent save for the small scuff of his boot when he seemed to favor his left leg in the slightest way. Maybe an old injury. Maybe just the way he walked. You never asked and figured if he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. 

You knew he had been pacing the prison over and over, keeping watch without anyone knowing. He always seemed to be in his perch when people began to shuffle out of their cells in the morning, none the wiser. 

Except you. 

He looked almost ready to keel over, at least to your eyes. Rick and Carol were worried too. The archer had stumbled at the fence today. Just…off balance, giving a walker the chance to grab his wrist. You had sliced through the decomposing flesh so quickly and closely that you were afraid you had actually cut him. But if it had scratched him…

“Hey, you.” You plopped down on his mattress hard enough to jostle him on the other side. You earned an irritated scoff but he kept to what he was doing. He really did look poorly. The circles around his eyes were so pronounced, how could anyone not notice them? Maybe they did and just didn’t find him approachable or feared what he would do if they snitched to Rick. He wasn’t the friendliest of chaps to those outside of his inner circle. Hell, sometimes he was even less friendly to those closest to him. 

“Ya need somethin’?” He regarded you with a sidelong glare and a raised brow. He was usually never so coarse with you. 

Sleep deprivation. You told yourself. “Just the pleasure of your ever-inviting, always hospitable company.” You smiled as he scowled. He really was a sourpuss tonight. Biting your lip, you watched him get his things together and quickly shuffled over on your knees to stop him when he made to stand. “So I was thinking,”

“Don’ hur’ yerself.”

“Ha Ha. Dixon’s got jokes.” You deadpanned. When he rotated his hand in the air to signal for you to continue, you wrinkled your nose at him and stuck out your tongue. “Anyway, I was thinking I’d take first watch tonight. You could come hang out up there with me, catch some z’s.” He already appeared prepared to balk at the idea. You sighed and sank back to sit on your heels. “You look tired, Daryl.”

“M’fine.” He muttered, a little too quickly. 

“You’ve been on three runs in two days. You clear the fence. You hunt. You dug most of the graves for the ones who died of the flu. You fix shit when it’s not working. You take double watch shifts. You…wander around when you should be sleeping.” 

His expression morphed right in front of your eyes: indifferent to angry in 0.025 seconds. “Ya keepin’ tabs on me?”

“No!” You shook your head adamantly. This was not going well. “I just…notice things.”

“Righ’.” He sneered. The archer grabbed his things and stood. “Good talk.” He snapped. You were up and laying a hand on his arm before he could take the first step toward the stairs. 

“Daryl, we’re just—”

“We?”

Shit. “Yeah, we. Your friends, Daryl. We’re worried about you. Ever since—”

“Don’ go there, Y/N.” You watched his hackles rise: muscles tensing, shoulders leveling just below his ears. You had hit a nerve. 

“So, this is about Merle.”

“Don’ say his name like ya gave a fuck ‘bout ‘im!” 

He spun on you so quickly that you actually thought— even if only for a split second— that he was going to hit you. You reeled, the back of your foot hitting his mattress. Off balance, you fell onto it and stared up at his looming figure with wide eyes. 

“Daryl.”

“I don’ need a babysitter!” He hissed. He swayed a little and blinked hard before turning away with a grunt. You watched him go, still shaken by his behavior. Daryl hadn’t acted that way toward you since the early days on the Greene farm. There was very little time you spent apart, aside from runs you weren’t designated to go on. 

Since Merle died, the bowman had become distant, withdrawing from everyone. You tried to keep him grounded, but it only seemed to irritate him more. 

Regardless, your worry outweighed the hurt. 

You pushed yourself up and ran down the steps, sorting through things you could say or do to convince him that he needed to rest; that he didn’t need to do this alone. Aside from using the stock of his crossbow to knock him out so you could drag him to bed, you weren’t coming up with much. 

No matter what, you weren’t leaving him in that tower alone tonight. 

It was well past sundown, darkness covering the prison. You hadn’t brought a flashlight. Actually, you hadn’t brought anything. It shouldn’t have surprised you when you didn’t see Daryl until you almost tripped over him. He was just sitting on the ground near the tower, his knees up, arms laying across them. His head was down. A fresh wave of worry nearly knocked you over. 

“Daryl?” You approached him slowly, almost like a wounded animal. When he looked up, you couldn’t make out much. 

“M’fine.” His voice had lost all the heat it had fired at you only moments before. 

“Okay.” You didn’t push, fearing it would only make him withdraw further. You sat down a few feet away. “Forgot my flashlight.” He only hummed but you could see as he lowered his head again. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while, long enough for Glenn to come down from the tower. As he approached, he raised his flashlight. You couldn’t see his face but knew he had to be wondering why Daryl hadn’t already shown up early as he normally did. Your eyes flickered to the archer, his head still bowed, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. He wasn’t asleep. The slow flexing of his fingers told you that much. His usually keen senses were dulled from exhaustion. 

Your gaze shifted back, your head shaking slowly. You jerked your chin toward the prison, hoping Glenn got the message. He must have picked up on something because he nodded at you as he passed by, waiting until he was sure you could see him. A concerned look was thrown toward Daryl as the flashlight was passed off to you but then he pressed on toward the metal door. 

It wasn’t until that door closed with a dull thud that Daryl flinched, raising his head and looking around somewhat wildly. You were quick to reach out but drew back your hand just before your fingertips could stroke across his bicep. 

“Hey.” You whispered, directing the beam upward so as not to startle him further. He slowly turned his head toward your voice, his muted ocean eyes blinking slowly. Weariness was settling on him heavily. The way his eyes would close for a few seconds and then quickly nictate was a sure sign of microsleep. Daryl was dangerously close to collapse. You needed to get him inside. “Daryl?”

His eyebrows raised at the sound of his name but his gaze remained unfocused. You chewed on your lip, weighing your options. 

“Daryl, let’s go inside, okay?”

The archer tilted his head, moving a little quicker. “Got watch.” He rasped. It almost sounded like a question. 

“No, Maggie’s gonna take it.”

“Nah, s’my watch.” Daryl climbed to his feet in slow, tremulous movements, swaying backward like his crossbow was weighing him down. He staggered toward the wall, slapping his palm against it to keep his balance as he inched toward the tower. 

“Daryl, you’re exhausted. Your body’s going to shut down if you don’t rest!” You followed at his side, hands hovering as if you could hold him up when he inevitably fell. 

“M’fine, Y/N. Gotta be.”

“But why? Why do you have to be fine?”

“Stop.”

“Are you trying to die?” Your voices were crawling higher while Daryl’s steps were growing slower. 

“Leave it, Y/N.” The archer stumbled to a halt, wiping at his eyes and blinking furiously to clear his blurred vision. 

“What if you fall from the tower? Down the stairs? What if you pass out on the run tomorrow when there’s no one to keep the walkers off you? What if—”

“We was gonna rob the camp.” 

Your back went straight, head shaking in perplexity. “What?”

“Merle n’ me. We was gonna rob ya’ll n’ take off. Leave ya with nothin’. Leave ya— the kids—” He couldn’t meet your eyes, his own betraying him with hot tears that he was fighting like hell to hold back. 

Your expression softened, everything suddenly making sense. Nothing from the quarry mattered now. You were all together. He had stayed when he never meant to. “Daryl, you—”

“Never told Rick or…or Carol. Never told you. I gotta make it righ’, Y/N. Fer me n’ fer…fer Merle..” The look he gave you was desperate, pleading. You realized instantly that this was a glimpse into Daryl’s soul, laid bare in a moment of weakness he’d hate himself for later. 

With tears in your eyes, you did the only thing that felt right in that moment. You closed the space between you and hugged him, slipping your hands beneath the crossbow to hold him tight. “You’ve made it right, Daryl. A thousand times over, you’ve made it right.” 

The archer crumbled, the only things holding him upright were the wall at his back and you pressed against him. 

“Merle was… he didn’…” 

He slipped into silence after that, never bringing his arms up to hold onto you. You knew it was because he just didn’t have the energy. 

“It’s okay.” You soothed, just listening to him breathe while you figured out what to do next. The door to the prison closed, the sound audible to you from around the corner. Maggie would appear any second, likely with Glenn in tow. “Daryl.” He didn’t respond. Had he passed out? “Daryl, can you walk with me?”

Relief washed over you when you felt some of his weight shift, followed by a resigned “yeah.” When you maneuvered away from him, you slid yourself underneath his arm, continuing to offer support. Just as you took the first step, the beam of Maggie’s flashlight danced from around the corner. You could only pray she would recognize the delicate situation and act accordingly. 

When two silhouettes came into view, you held your breath. They were headed straight for you. Daryl was weak and pliant at the moment but should he realize someone other than you could see any vulnerability, it was unlikely he would remain that way. 

You saw the very moment that Maggie— thankfully — grabbed hold of Glenn’s arm and steered him away in order to give you and Daryl a wide berth. You finally breathed again once you had rounded the corner and the archer remained quiet at your side. 

He was clumsy on the steps leading to the door and again on the stairs to his perch, but you managed to keep both of you from face-planting. It was necessary to keep him standing for a while longer. If you allowed him to sit on the mattress, he could just fall over and you’d never be able to get his crossbow off his back. 

“You with me?” You asked softly, ducking from under his arm to stand in front of him. He was doing well keeping himself on his feet even if he was swaying. When you cupped your hand over his chin and tapped your thumb against his cheek, his eyes focused and found yours. “I need to get this, okay?”

Hazy blue orbs followed you while you lifted the strap over his head, forced to stand on your tip-toes. It was a graceless but successful effort. Once the weapon and his bag were on the floor, you indicated for him to sit. He complied but not without a weak scowl. 

“Don’ need ya ta baby me. I got it.” He said, with little to no bite. 

“I’m not babying you, Daryl.” You crouched in front of him and brushed at his hair. It had grown just enough to be in his face. It was soft against your fingertips, if not a little greasy. You absently wondered how long he would let it get. With a smile, your attention returned to the task at hand. “I’m caring for you. There’s a difference.”

Your eyes locked, neither of you daring to look away. A moment that should have felt uncomfortable bordered on a version of intimate. Daryl looked away first, a light flush coloring his cheeks. Your tongue slid across your bottom lip, finding it suddenly dry. 

“Let’s take off your boots.” You reached for the laces but he slid his foot out of your reach. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re about to crash and burn for quite a while and you can at least do it comfortably.” It was reasonable, but so was his excuse not to. 

“Need ta be ready. Anythin’ can happen.”

You mulled it over and nodded. “You’re right. How about this?” The archer was swaying where he sat now, fading fast with the temptation of a mattress and pillow just behind him. “You take off your boots and I’ll leave mine on.” The perplexed expression on his bone-weary face was almost comical. 

“The hell you havin’ yer boots on gonna do ta help me all the way up here?”

“Because I’m not going anywhere.” You stated firmly, intense gaze daring him to argue with you. You expected he would and prepared yourself for it. 

But he was just too damn tired. 

“Alrigh’.” 

You smiled at the top of his head while clumsy fingers worked at the laces, taking longer than necessary but still ending with his boots sitting against the wall. 

“Great.” You weren’t about to tell him how to go to bed. The less he had to argue about, the better. You watched him crawl toward the pillow and all but collapse once he reached it, facedown with a smothered groan. 

His blanket was like all the others, thin and itchy, but you could probably cover him with garbage bags at this point and he wouldn’t care. You pulled the material up to his shoulders and then climbed over him to sit on the other side with your back against the wall. 

After a moment, he turned his head toward you. “Ya really gonna sit there the whole time?”

“Every minute.” You chuckled when he pulled a face. “I promise not to be a creep and stare at you.” His features relaxed. He even offered a shadow of a smile, eyelids appearing to grow too heavy to keep open. 

“Ya… really don’… hafta stay.” He muttered between breaths, sound asleep just as the last word left his lips. 

“I know. I want to.” I’ll always stay. For you. 

[honeyoru]

When the Stars Rise Chap. 1

Roronoa Zoro x Female! Devil fruit user! Princess! Reader & Vinsmoke Sanji x Female! Devil fruit user! Princess! Reader (we've got a love triangle ow ow)

Warnings: none for this chapter

Series Masterlist

A/N: And into the rabbit hole we go, thanks for reading!

The gold-plated pocket watch ticked aimlessly, mocking you. 

Sighing, you placed it back inside your coat and lazily held a bottle of rum, refraining from bouncing your leg at your secluded table in the back of the Kingdom’s biggest tavern. It was a rowdy establishment, full of laughter and comradery amongst both citizens and visitors alike. 

You adjusted the hood on your head again, grateful it hid your face in the dimly lit space. However, it did little to quell your nerves that someone would recognize you. Visiting crowded places when you had such a high-stakes mission made you nervous, especially in such a popular spot like this one. 

Any local would know who you were instantly.

Your eyes were fixated on a rather tall guy who just screamed pirate. He stood at the bar, loudly sharing stories with a group of older, weathered-looking men. They weren’t subtle with their irritation, taking long pulls of rum in between eye rolls as he regaled them about the time he had fought a Devil Fruit user and lived. 

Moonbeam Kingdom had seas on all sides, open for passing ships to stop for supplies or to take an extended vacation; the tropical landscape and friendly people made for an excellent place to rest. 

It was monitored by visiting Marines only occasionally due to their deal with the King, making it a prime stopping point for pirates as well. 

Taking a long pull from your bottle, you nonchalantly looked around the raucous room, recognizing several pirates from their wanted papers that were plastered on the Marine-mandatory bulletin outside. Not that anyone paid attention to it, of course. 

You squinted at the man again, recalling the exact words your father had used to describe him.

Tall. Check.

Blue hair. You could see the slight shimmer of the hue reflecting off of the lanterns on the bar.  

A large tattoo on the right arm; a hissing black cat. Bared teeth peeked out from his tattered shirt. Bingo.

He was leaning towards the bartender, a withered old lady you’d known your entire life, bragging about his most recent conquest. The low light of the tavern made it hard to be certain, but she spared a glance to you in between polishing glasses, offering a sly nod to you that he was, indeed, the one who you had been waiting for. The hard set of her jaw made it clear what she thought of the story he was telling. 

You allowed the hint of a smile to grace your face, raising your bottle to finish the drink. 

“You want me to bring him back here…alive?” you had asked in disbelief when your father first told you of your mission over breakfast.  “He’s just a low-level pirate. Why bother?” 

“He is not welcome in this kingdom,” your father spat. It wasn’t often a person like him caught his attention, let alone someone that far down in the ranks of a pirate crew. “I’ve received word that the Black Cat Pirates attacked someone very dear to your mother.”

You raised your eyebrows.  Not many people alive were left whom she cared for, only your family and what remained of hers back in her home village. And considering you hadn’t heard of any Black Cat Pirates arriving in Moonbeam before now…  “Not in the kingdom, then?” 

“No,” a spoon smacked against the table, his hand curling into a fist. “They visited the Gecko Islands.”

An exhale was all you could reply, knowing it was a sore spot. You hadn’t heard anything about them in years since her sister had passed.

“He’s been bragging about killing a girl,” your father continued with a growl, making your heart lurch. There was only one person who that could be. “Saying his crew could do it here too, if they wanted.” 

All at once your eyes darkened. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already been killed, then.” Moonbeam might be known for its peaceful citizens, but no one who made threats like that left the kingdom alive. 

“I know.” He looked up from the table, taking a careful bite of his oats. The smile he wore made a shiver go down your spine. “Aren’t we lucky?” 

You knew how deeply your father’s devotion to your mother ran. He would burn entire kingdoms to the ground if she asked for it. 

If it weren’t for what he just said, you would’ve pitied the night the pirate was about to have. 

“Make sure you keep that mask on this time,” he nagged in an almost affectionate tone. “And your gloves. Calcifer tells me the Marines are scrambling to put a bounty on your head ever since that lovely little meeting you had with those officers last week,” he gave you a sharp glance. “Luckily, they were too drunk to remember what you looked like,” you rolled your eyes. “Or what you did.”

You scoffed, fingers twitching at the memory. “I should’ve just killed them.”

He waved you off. “Too many Marines, it would have been suspicious.” Another look was thrown your way as you stood up to leave. “Keep everything on,” he added. “We don’t need anyone recognizing you.”

Your exit was deterred by a final call of your name. “Do try your best not to break any nails when retrieving him,” he drawled with a smirk. “Your sister’s ball is tomorrow. I’d like there to be no inquiries on what the oldest princess of Moonbeam does in her free time if I can help it.”

You set the bottle back on the table, tugging the mask down and making your way towards the bar with a stifled groan, hoping you’d at least be able to sleep in tomorrow.

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

taglist: @hearts4zoro

[crazycurly-77]

Like an old married couple - Chapter 14

Your eyes were locked on his and he felt like dreaming. He could have danced around in the hospital room you two were in. Man, he didn't felt so excited since…yeah, since your last kiss in the middle of the office. And if you hadn't worn an oxygen mask he had kissed you right then and there. He thanked all that was holy with all his heart, which was full of gratefulness and leaping with happiness. 

He was beaming with joy which looked so good on him, that you've fallen in love with him deeper than you already had. He should smile more often. Smiling made him look even better than he usually did when he was not smiling and your heart flew out to him. You were still very exhausted, but you felt very special that he beamed at you and you smiled back as good as you could with the mask on. 

Right in this very moment your doctor entered the room. “Hey Y/N, you are awake. That's wonderful and a great relief. How are you? Oh, you can't speak. Wait a moment, I'm taking the oxygen mask from you” he said friendly. 

You took a breath and your lungs rattle, but it felt and sound better than before you lost consciousness. So that's a good sign, but Gibbs cringed at this sound. 

“I feel like I've been hit by a bus” you whisper. All three of you share a little laugh, Gibbs always holding your hand never letting go. “There's this constant (breathe) pain in my chest, (breathe) I am tired and (breathe) I am dizzy. (breathe/cough) It feels (breathe) like every breath is an (breathe) enormous effort (breathe/cough) and every time (breathe) I breathe (breathe) in it feels like (breathe) a burning sword is gliding (breathe) down my windpipe (breathe/cough).” 

You barely managed to explain how you felt and you were coughing hard. Gibbs looked very worried at you and stood by your side. He so wished he would be able to help you, but there was nothing he could do except staying by your side and trying to calm you down. So he did exactly that. 

Searching for help he looked at the doctor who nodded, gave you a Cortisone injection and put you the oxygen mask on. 

After a few minutes of you coughing madly with rattling breath you calmed down and breathed shallowly, but steady. 

“That's right, just breathe” you heard from both men. Easier said than done after such a severe asthma attack and the aftermath, you thought. But they meant good, so you just let it go. 

“You are on a good way to get well again, but you have to be cautious. You are still not yet over the hill, so please stay in bed, stay calm and just try to breathe as evenly as possible. Then it will get better soon, I'm sure of it” the doctor said. 

You nodded weakly and fell asleep again. As you woke up a few hours later Gibbs wasn't there, but Ducky. First you were irritated, but as you saw his warm smile you knew everything was alright. 

“Well hello my lady, nice to see you” he said in his wonderful calming and friendly voice. “Don't worry, he is just getting something to eat and will be back shortly. Doctor Wilson is content with your improvement and may I say he is a fine chap and really good looking, isn't he?” 

Because of the mask you couldn't say anything, but you smiled at him. 

Now Ducky is a really wonderful man and a gentleman too, but he is not so harmless as one would think. Which you noticed once again, as he winked at you and said grinning “I know my dear, he is not Jethro.”

Your head felt like burning up and you surely were red like a tomato and you thought “how embarrassing”, but this was Ducky and he was a real good friend. 

So he just chuckled amused and began to tell you what happened in the days you were out, what the doctors said about your illness and of course he told you one of his stories. He stayed with you and talked until you fell asleep again after a while. 

As you woke again Ducky was gone and Gibbs was sitting in the chair once again holding your hand as always. You immediately tried to put the mask down and he stood up to help you. “Water” you whispered to him. He nodded and provided you with a glass of water putting it to your lips and supported your back so you could drink. After that he was gently laying you down to rest some more. 

Just then Simon came into the room with a bunch of flowers. He walked shyly to you “hey, how are you?” “Have felt better, but I think I will get there soon again” you answered smiling lightly. “Can I do something for you? Can I help you in any way?” You chuckled lightly “that's very nice of you, but no.” You made a short pause and looked to Gibbs “I'm getting cared of very good” another pause and you looked back to Simon “but thanks for asking.”

He nodded disappointed “okay, then I will take my leave. Hope you will get better soon. Call me, if you need something.” Then he left and the room was quiet. Too quiet, actually. 

You looked over to Gibbs who had withdrawn himself and was leaning against the window wall. He was staring at you, but his face gave nothing away on what he was thinking or feeling. 

So unaware of you, there was a turmoil behind his stoic mask. On one hand he was excited that you seemed to like to be nursed by him and that you get better every day and on the other hand there was Simon. The thorn in his side. He seemed to care for you and to like you. And yes, he seemed to be a nice person, but he didn't like him. Why? Because of his attention towards you. But no, he was NOT jealous. 

If you had known…. 

(To be continued...)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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[griefabyss69]

Pulling

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘EDGE’ wc: 509 | rated: T | cw: Still just weed!

Here's 2/4 of Eddie's side of The Hole Story (Rated E), there will be 2 more installments <3

Steve surprises Eddie by accepting his offer.

His favorite customer shouldn't be Steve.

The guy who just last year he'd wanted to knock down ten pegs, who he would try to scare with the big bad satanic wolf routine, who he'd been so pissed off about lusting after that he didn't dare complain even about it even while three sheets to the wind in Gareth's garage after band practice.

He's just so… he's so.

God.

He'd been staring at Eddie's mouth again, encouraging the stupid habit of constantly licking his lips, getting them all chapped which is not fucking sexy, not copacetic to the whole “I’m a young adult in the big wild oyster of the world” thing…

Jesus Christmas.

Despite the massive hots he has for the guy, he really shouldn't have done the whole "Call me if you get bored" thing, transparently flirting as crystal clear as a fancy whiskey glass, or even worse, showing he cared about how his holidays went.

Just because there's something sad about him that makes Eddie want to dig in and figure him out with his teeth. Just because he has his big eyes and pouty mouth and sure hands.

Just because whenever Eddie gets a smile out of him it's like the big guy in the sky decided to come down and personally award him with an angel's blessing.

And he can admit it, he was wrong. The jock stain doesn't lacquer Steve with a sparkling clean glaze. He's all ocean surface and the deepest water; coral and anglerfish and other fucked up things all live inside of him but some of them glow in the dark to get by and he thinks that maybe Steve does too.

He's got secrets obviously, but he's maybe the most sincere person Eddie's ever met.

Still.

He doesn't expect the call.

Even after the friendly not-flirting, the little touches to his hands, the way if he looked closely he could see the way Steve's cheeks were getting pink because Eddie was playing with his lip and not because of the chill in the air.

The jury's still out on if homosexuality is one of Steve's sad little secrets, but Eddie hopes it is because he's a traitor to himself.

His voice is all tinny on the shitty old phone and it should've been unpleasant but instead there was a laser light dance party going on in Eddie's stomach.

Steve wants to hang out. No transactions involved.

"So like, yeah… If you want, I'm free?"

It sounds like more than what it is, like Steve's offering up his naked chest and asking him to feast on it.

But Eddie doesn't want to rip him open.

Instead he stares at the edges of his own life, finds places to fit him in seamlessly. Places that would change forever with Steve’s presence even if they're just going to smoke a joint and lament about how winter's so different now that they're adults.

He cracks one of those edges open, and smiles into the phone.

"Yeah, come over, I made cookies. They're even edible."

[mimisempai]

LITTLE SEEDS OF HAPPINESS - Chap 1/4

Chapter 1 : Budding

Summary

Ever since the new flower shop opened on Whickber Street, a few steps from his bookshop, Aziraphale can't help but be intrigued, even fascinated, by the beautiful florist, unaware that said florist feels the same way about the bookseller.

The two watch each other from afar, without really getting close, when Muriel, co-owner and Crowley's adopted sibling, decides to intervene.

Notes

First AU of Good Omens, this story is composed of four chapters and is the beginning of a series that I hope you'll like, because we're in it for the long haul...

On Ao3

Rating T -  2966 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4

"Thank you Maggie! I'm going to enjoy listening to this record as soon as I get home!"

Maggie shook her head and replied quietly, "Mr. Fell, you don't have to thank me, knowing what you do for me...about my rent."

"But that's just it, it's completely selfish on my part, because if you weren't here, who would give me all these hours of pleasure for my ears? Speaking of which, I'll get started as soon as possible. Have a nice day!"

Maggie watched as the bookseller walked out the door with his ever-so-slightly bouncing step, heading toward his bookshop further down the street.

As for Aziraphale, he could hardly wait to be in the comfort of his bookshop, with a steaming cup of tea in one hand, an Eccles cake in the other, and the soft tones of his latest acquisition ringing in his ears.

He quickened his pace slightly at this perspective when a voice sounded behind him. 

"Mr. Fell, good morning!" 

Recognizing it, he turned, a fake friendly smile on his lips.

Aziraphale replied with a friendliness he was far from feeling for the intruder, "Good morning, Mr. Brown."

"I just wanted to remind you of our next meeting of the street shopkeepers, to be held next week at Justine's."

Although deeply annoyed at the prospect of yet another boring meeting, Aziraphale replied with a smile, "I'll be there, of course. Thanks for reminding me."

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before the annoying redhead had already turned and was walking towards the French restaurant whose outdoor tables Justine was preparing for the next service. The Frenchwoman caught Aziraphale's eye and greeted him with a small wave, which Aziraphale returned with a much warmer, more sincere smile than the one he had for Mr. Brown.

The bookseller resumed his walk towards his bookshop when his gaze was caught by some movement to the right.

Although he would deny it if asked, he slowed his pace a little to take the time to watch the florist, Mr. Crowley, take out the plants and prepare the front for the opening of his flower shop, Little Seeds of Happiness.

He was joined by his assistant, named Muriel, according to some gossip Aziraphale had gathered. Then, seeing him, Muriel waved hello, smiling broadly as always, before tapping the florist on the shoulder to get his attention and pointing at Aziraphale. The florist stood up and, seeing Aziraphale, nodded in his direction, a slight smile on his lips, his eternal sunglasses on his nose.

Aziraphale responded with the same nod, a smile on his lips as well, and continued on his way.

After a few steps, Aziraphale couldn't help but take one last look in the direction of the flower shop. 

The florist now had his back to him, but Aziraphale could not look away from the flaming hair that seemed to attract the sunlight. 

That was what had caught his eye, the day the man had moved in above what was now the flower shop.

Not the old car, not the rock music blasting from the windows as he parked, no. Just the red hair, the color of which was all the more remarkable since its owner wore black. Even his florist's apron was black, Aziraphale noted, smiling amusedly. 

However, despite this dark attire, there was a certain light about the man, and Aziraphale couldn't deny that he was intrigued. A lot, if he was honest with himself.

It had been two months since the florist had arrived in the neighborhood, and he had quickly assimilated, which didn't surprise Aziraphale because they formed a small, colorful, and most of all, welcoming community.

Suddenly, Aziraphale realized that the florist, as a shopkeeper, would also be attending the shopkeepers' meeting, and the prospect of a reunion became much more appealing. Perhaps it would be an opportunity for him to get to know the newcomer better.

"Mommyyy! Where's my mommy!"

Suddenly jolted from his thoughts, Aziraphale looked around for the source of the crying until he saw a little girl standing outside the door of his bookshop. He approached at a brisk pace, and when he was close to her, knelt down before asking her gently, "Hey, little one. Did you lose your mommy?"

The little girl sniffled and told him between sobs that her mommy had been talking to someone and that she had let go of her mommy's hand to look at the magic shop window, but that she didn't know where her mommy was now.

As she finished telling her story, she began to cry loudly in front of a distraught Aziraphale. He thought quickly. The magic shop wasn't far from his shop, and the mother wouldn't let her daughter go far away. But there was nothing he could do until the little girl calmed down.

Aziraphale said softly, "Hey... what's your name, sweetie?"

She sniffed and replied, "Julia."

"Okay, Julia, we'll look for your mommy, we'll find her, and you'll magically forget all about this, okay?"

"Magic doesn't exist."

" Oh, do you really believe that? But look..."

Aziraphale dug deep into his jacket pocket and pulled out a shiny coin, waving it in front of the little girl before closing his hands and opening them again, empty.

"Tada... it's gone!"

Then he brought one of his hands to the little girl's ear and exclaimed, "Oh!!! Look, there it is!"

The little girl giggled a little before exclaiming, "Mommy!!!"

Aziraphale turned to see a woman approach with a look of relief on her face as she stretched out her arms and said, "Julia, my baby! I've been looking all over for you."

Aziraphale stood up and turned to face the woman who was now holding her little girl.

"Mommy, that man with the weird bow tie, he said he would help me find you, and here you are!"

The woman nodded and said to Aziraphale, "Thank you for taking care of my daughter. I was caught up in a conversation and didn't see her leave so fast."

Aziraphale shook his head and replied gently, "I was there at the right time. All's well that ends well."

"Thank you," the woman turned to her daughter and said, "Did you thank the nice man?"

Julia shook her head and asked, "Can I give him a kiss?"

"If it's okay with him, yes."

Aziraphale complacently leaned over and offered his cheek to the little girl, who planted a slightly wet kiss on it before whispering in his ear, "You're right, magic does exist, because you made my mommy come back."

Aziraphale laughed softly, and then, after a final exchange of greetings, mother and daughter left under his benevolent gaze, the little girl waving again just before they disappeared around the corner.

Amused, Aziraphale entered his bookshop and, as he closed the door, was slightly disappointed to find that the florist was no longer outside. Then his eyes caught those of Nina, the coffee shop owner, who gave him a small wave, which he returned before entering his shop.

"The coin is still in your hand..."

Crowley chuckled as he watched the bookseller hold up the small gold coin to the little girl who had stopped crying.

He had been watching the scene the whole time, ready to fly to the little girl's rescue if the other man hadn't. And as he watched the reunited mother and child thank the bookseller, Crowley was no longer in the mood for mockery.

Though he had only been here a few months, this was by no means the first time he had witnessed the kindness of the light-haired man in the old-fashioned suit.

Child, elderly person, man, woman, and once even a dog had all been greeted with the same kindness, the same gentle, open attitude. True kindness was rare, and Crowley was well placed to know it, which was why he was able to recognize it when he encountered it, or in this case, witnessed it.

He had noticed earlier that the bookseller was watching him, and he could hardly take offense when he did the same. It wasn't so much his clothes or his fluffy-looking curly hair that caught Crowley's eye - though it did make him look incredibly endearing in its own way - no, what intrigued Crowley was that the man seemed completely at ease with himself. As the bookseller walked down the street, he had the demeanor of someone who knew what he was and wasn't ashamed of it. He wasn't arrogant or ostentatious, he just exuded this incredible aura of confidence. It made Crowley a little jealous, knowing he could never be like that. 

The florist sighed as he pushed his sunglasses further up his nose and watched the bookseller enter his shop.

Crowley chuckled in amusement as he watched him turn over the small sign that read "Closed." 

Closed at 10:00 a.m.

He didn't know how the bookseller made a living, but certainly not by selling books, for in two months he had never seen anyone leave the bookshop with a book in hand.

Another interesting fact.

"It shows..."

Crowley was startled because, lost in thought, he had not heard Muriel approach.

He turned to them and asked, one eyebrow raised, "What?"

Muriel raised their eyebrows several times suggestively and replied, clearly mocking, "It's obvious you're making eyes at him."

Crowley snapped back in annoyance, "I'm wearing sunglasses, you little idiot! How can you tell I'm making eyes at the bookseller?"

"I never said I was talking about him."

"You!"

Crowley grabbed his water spray bottle and doused his childhood friend and adopted sibling, who laughed out loud!

As always, he couldn't stay mad at them for long. They were the only one who knew him and could read him so well. 

Sometimes to his great misfortune.

Since that day at the orphanage when Muriel, a newcomer, had beaten up one of the big kids despite their small stature because he had made fun of Crowley's eye color and since the same day Crowley had taken responsibility for what Muriel had done so they wouldn't be punished, a sacred bond had been formed.

Since then, they've had each other's backs in every situation.

This had allowed them to pursue their common dream.

The orphanage's old gardener had noticed Crowley's affinity for plants and taken him under his wing. He had patiently trained him, and Crowley, instead of leaving the orphanage when he came of age, had naturally taken the place of the retiring gardener. 

Crowley had stayed there for years, even decades, saving for his dream and Muriel's studies. Muriel had learned all about business because they wanted Crowley to realize his dream. Their dream.

To open a flower shop.

When they were finished and Crowley had saved enough, they'd both looked for the perfect shop, and after a few months of searching, he'd turned in his resignation to the orphanage board and opened Little Seeds of Happiness on Whickber Street with Muriel.

And for the first time in his life, at over 40, Crowley felt like he was at home. 

"Stop thinking about him."

Once again Muriel snapped him out of his thoughts and before he could protest they added, "We have a customer, it's time to be professional."

Their smile belied the seriousness of their words and they went to greet the customer in question, who was none other than Justine, the owner of the French restaurant.

She had been a regular customer since the restaurant opened, and to Crowley's surprise, she had offered him a contract to do the floral arrangements on the tables and in the restaurant if she was satisfied with his work. 

He accepted and the Frenchwoman had been so pleased with his work after the first set of arrangements that she told him he could use his imagination for the next set. 

Since then, she'd only come to see him to let him know when she had a special theme in mind.

He greeted her as she approached the counter, "Bonjour Justine. What can I do for you?"

She looked unusually sheepish as she replied, "Good morning, Crowley. Actually, I'm planning an international week for the restaurant next week, with specialties from a different country each day, and that would mean exceptionally new arrangements each day, tailored to the country in question."

Crowley scratched his chin as he pondered, and after a few seconds replied, "That sounds perfectly acceptable to me, but..."

"Yes?"

"You do what you want, since you're the one paying, of course, but what are you going to do with the arrangements every day, other than throw them away?" 

The thought of flowers going to waste horrified him.

"Oh, no, no, I won't throw them away. We'll have little quizzes during the evening, and each customer who wins gets to take an arrangement home."

Crowley, thrilled that his creations could be considered as prizes to be won, replied enthusiastically, "It's a deal!"

Justine pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, handed it to him, and explained, "Here's the list of countries.

Then she thanked him and left the shop.

Crowley scanned the list and frowned.

"What's wrong?" asked Muriel.

"Well, I'm thinking of making arrangements with the national flowers of each country, but I realize I don't know much about them, except that the lily is the flower of Italy and the bear's breech is the flower of Greece. I'll have to do some research until next week."

Muriel replied with a half-smile, "How fortunate that there's a bookshop only a few yards from here."

"What?"

"Crowley, I know you perfectly know what I mean, right? You have a chance to get to know him better. Take it. Combine business with pleasure."

"But..."

Muriel shook their head and pushed him towards the shop's door, barely giving him a chance to remove his apron, and a few moments later he was standing outside the bookshop door, Justine's list in his hand.

He saw that the sign had been turned back to "Open" and the description of the whimsical opening hours made him chuckle. He'd heard about it, but to see it in black and white was something else.

He opened the door gently and his eyes immediately fell on the bookseller who was hunched over a book with his back to him.

He said to Crowley without turning around, "One moment, please, I'll be right with you."

Crowley, not offended, let his gaze wander around him. His first impression was that the bookshop matched perfectly the impression given by its owner.

Old-fashioned, cozy and warm.

Then his eyes were drawn to the bookseller as he turned, and Crowley saw a flash of surprise cross his face, which still maintained its welcoming smile.

"Oh, good morning Mr..."

Crowley replied, stepping up to him and holding out his hand, "Crowley."

Aziraphale took the outstretched hand and answered, "Welcome Mr. Crowley."

Crowley smiled and replied, "Just Crowley."

The bookseller repeated in a slightly embarrassed manner, "All right, then, welcome Crowley, call me Aziraphale. What brings you to my shop?"

Crowley explained his problem while showing him the list of countries and concluded, "So I was wondering if you had any books on the subject. I'd look on the net, but you can never be 100% sure of the information you find there, so I'd like a more... shall we say... academic source."

He watched with amusement as his interlocutor's eyes lit up before the bookseller walked away and said, "I think I've got just what you need, just wait a minute."

Crowley, very much amused, watched as Aziraphale disappeared behind one of the bookshelves and heard him talking to himself amidst the various rustlings.

"Not here..."

"Not that one, no."

"Flowers and their language... not that one either."

"Haha! Found it!"

Crowley heard hurried footsteps and jumped as Aziraphale appeared from another side, brandishing a book that looked to be several years, if not decades, old.

"Here it is, Alan Mc Pherson's To Every Flower Its Own Country. I seem to recall it has all the countries you need."

Crowley took the book and asked, "How much do I owe you?"

Aziraphale shook his head vehemently, "It's not for sale. It's a first edition from my personal collection."

Crowley, observing, saw in the bookseller's expression that he was as attached to this book as he must have been to everything in the bookstore, and was all the more touched that he would agree to lend him one of these precious items.

He kindly replied, "I promise to take good care of it. I'll get to work right away to make it as short as possible. Thank you very much."

Aziraphale shook his head, " No need to hurry, take as long as you need."

Crowley thought he should find something to thank the bookseller for when he returned the book. A plant, perhaps, since the store seemed to be devoid of them.

The bookseller followed him to the front door and after saying goodbye, Crowley didn't dare turn around until he reached his own shop. As he stepped through the door, he finally surrendered and turned to see Aziraphale still standing in the doorway of the bookshop. Crowley couldn't resist and waved.

The bookseller replied immediately before hurrying back into his shop.

Crowley entered the flower shop and, with the precious book borrowed from Aziraphale and Justine's list in hand, sat down at his desk to get started.

But, as concentrated as he was, he couldn't help but interrupt himself from time to time to look out the window at the bookshop, and every time he resumed his work, he had a smile on his face.

Maybe Muriel had been right to push him to cross the street.

_________

Next chapter : Crowley will return the book to Aziraphale and, giving in to an impulse is about to invite the bookseller to dinner, but an impromptu guest from Aziraphale's past may well jeopardize the flower shop owner plans.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4

[smilingangel582]

Afraid of nuthin'

Warning spoilers alert well until Heizou's hangout event and itto story quest

Ps. If u aren't a fan of tickling and friendly things that don't seem more your type and less bizarre, feel free to scroll down... thank you and enjoyyyy my loveliees!

(Lee!heizou and ler!Itto - featuring oopse... *clamps a hand on my mouth* It's a secret and a surprise ending)

***

"Heizouu!"

Startled by the booming voice outside of shimura's restaurant, the young detective Heizou almost spills his tea. It's the third time this month, at least... that Itto gets him to react so differently.

"Itto old chap... Maybe it's better to lower your volume down in public places. " Heizou squints with an assuring expression when the oni steps in almost slipping into a crashing speed at the fragile looking restaurant.

"Oopse, you got it my hombre," he salutes now, walking along with Heizou, who's in fact on his break but rather scavenging for some new intriguing mysteries under Sango's nose.

"Hey buddy," Itto speaks after a few minutes of strolling, probably out if boredom.

"Yes?"

"I'm interested... every instant I see ya, especially during the test of courage," Itto gestures comically as they walk outside Inazuma a bit "you don't seem scared of anything... right?"

Tricky... if he said yes, it would mean Itto will start a troublesome game of finding Heizou's fear, leading to trifling conclusions. Then if he says no... and admit he is. He'll have to spill the impossible. Truthfully, not even he knows what he's afraid... maybe when there will be a day that mysteries won't exist?

"Um... well Itto, I am a human so it might be dramatic to say I'm not scared..."

Either way as Heizou deduced Itto intends to investigate his fear.

Chuckling now "Well, say you are more fearless than an oni, but you are a wee human so I bet you are scared of something..."

Sighing Heizou shrugs and it took quite a while for Itto to even analyse and figure out anything.

Honestly, Heizou's job is still with him himself... no one can take his job. At least the traveller gladly isn't despite having exceptional skills.

"Maybe like me! Is it beans?"

"I'm a human not an Oni..."

Groaning even more Itto pouts a bit. Chuckling at the childish display of the large but kid oni, Heizou professes "Alright Itto, trust me... I'm afraid of somethings but I am not as brave as an oni... does that feel better?"

Oni grins but slightly accepting it. He turns to Heizou and then pokes side. "If I would say you certainly need to eat m-"

"H-hey!" Heizou arcs his back from the touch and backs off, tittering uneasily he states "Itto... space please..."

Curious oni is a dangerous oni, Heizou knew he's skilled to note that about him. Another poke but Heizou prepares by staggering back only to land on his back.

"Heizou? Are you perhaps ticklish?" A look of genuine delight in the discovery.

"H-huh why would you say that I-Itto?" Barely making eye contact.

The oni shrugs but helps him up and slightly offers a playful snicker, "ahh well my compadre you better watchout cause there is someone even scarier than an oni..."

"If you are referring to ghost-"

"Those too but!" He emphasises with a smirk, making Heizou connect the dots before Itto could get to the point. Gently trying to slip away, he stepped back, but Itto caught him without an effort by the arm holding it up as he began his conversation.

"You know who that guy is?"

Gulp, this is not good... if this oni really plans to tickle him, it's the end of his day.

Tactic one, distraction...

"Ah, look at the time... uh... my breaks over Itto... hehe, I better head ba-ahahack!" He poked his ribs now.

Failed... abort! Abort!

"Shikanoin Heizou, you will get a visit from the tickle monster!!" As if he never heard a single word from Heizou since that topic. Fingers immediately dug into his bare sides, beginning his attack properly.

Maybe he should consider a change of clothing since Lumine enjoys poking him here and there.

"Ahaha wahait aha, maybe hehe, I am ticklish buhuhut... ihihits nohohot ahaha feheheeear!" Pushing his hands off slightly averting his eyes to see if there's a crowd watching him struggle to escape a child oni.

Itto's strength is commendable when he pins both his small wrist above his head "Heizou, look here bro, fear of tickles is something everyone has tho some tend to enjoy it...buuut" his fingers lightly tracing his stomach now heizou feels determined to admit he's got a fear of the tickle monster -or rather tickle oni.

"Well you are a detective... might spill a thing or two... right?"

"Aahahahas ihihif a lihihittle tihihickling cahahahan dohoho thahahat!?? Noho, sir!" Heizou's right arm kept pushing him away though with no success.

"Oooooh" mistake, big mistake Heizou realised too late. Too late! He squeaks "NO! Wait!"

Bursts in immediate laughter when Itto tickles his under arms. Itto nods casually "I see, so you are not afraid of the tickle monster making you spill the tea... my bro, if you promise to say the word Onikabuto I'll let you go... but that means you will submit to this little interrogation method..."

Since when did this Oni became soo... evil? Or bad? Heizou was too busy struggling the tickles that are total torture under his arms. He shakes his head "SEHEHERIOUSLY IHIHIHITTOO NOHOHO MORE GAHAHAHAMES... LEHEHET MEHEHE UP!"

"Armpits huh?" Itto snickers enjoying this waaaay more than the victim. Heizou can't even tickle back due to the struggles he wasted. "Well tell me what's the password! Come on little guy... I'll let you go if you say that... hmmm?"

His fingers slowly crawl down, making Heizou giggle but laughing less, as they remain on their sides still tickling. He squirms and yelps "Ack! Ihihittooo! Plehehease!"

"Begging? Alright not so tough now wittle detective... you sure are cute for someone who's not afraid of nuthin'!"

Itto won't shut up. Is this for real? Is Heizou the detective resistant to any torture gonna go submissive against tickling? No way...

Heizou squeals now feeling the fingers crawl up again "AHAHA haha whahahahat thehehe?"

"Incyyy wiiincyyyy Oniii went uuup the ticklish sideees!"

"Nohohohot thahahaaat ohohoho myyy ahahahrchoons!" Heizou blushes furiously. Especially when Itto is singing this version very loudly for the whole town to hear. No! Just yhat alone is intolerable!

"AHAHAH ok ok!!!! Noho more singing!" He panics when the fingers swiftly reached his armpits not even tickling "OK! EEEHEHE IHIHI UHUHUHU OHOHONIKABUTOOO! I SAID IT I SAID IT!"

Itto burst into laughter now hitting his own thigh "Ohooo my! Yohou can't stand thahat can ya!"

"Uhuhunfair... it wahas embarrassing..."

"But you had fuuuun compadre??"

Looking at the excited oni he sighs with a giggle "OK ok... I did,"

"It certainly looked like it"

The familiar windy light voice makes Heizou's blood run cold. He turns to see the anemo vision holder Kazuha.

"K-k-kazuha! What b-brings you he-hear?" Heizou stammers immediately, blushing more at the sight of his former target and now close friend standing there with a fond smile. Smiling even eider Kazuha gestures to the crux fleet. "A trip back to my home again, of course, wanderers may wander, but i also wonder..." leaning forward over Heizou's face."What my dear friend is doing, as a detective that's intriguing..."

Itto applauds with sudden excitement but also getting their attention "My bro your poetic!"

"Why thank you... I see you discovered my friends weakness,"

Itto chuckles "Lil dude be going 'I ain't afraid of nuthin' so I found out he's scared of the tickle oni!"

Kazuha's airy light laughter suddenly draws the wind. "Whyy, he's adorable, isn't he... squealing at his age...?"

"Kaaazuuu, please..." Heizou grabs his hand to stop him, "Itto let's give Kazuha a tour, and we'll introduce you to his heroic actions. " he pulls him away instantly to avoid further vociferous teasing on him.

They were already leading ahead, and Kazuha poked him teasingly about the initial incident, making the detective more embarrassed.

Meanwhile...

"Waaaait..." Itto still ponders and murmurs."Such a familiar nameee, Kazu... kazuha... Kaeda... oh!" and then he runs after them suddenly, recalling"

"Mutso no hitotachi!!!! Waaaaait, I want to fight ya too! Wait, uppp!!!"

(A/N:Sorry about the spelling. I can't remember it... the end, thanks for reading)

[kitthepurplepotato]

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Chapter 2. Meet the Menace!

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New to the story? Start here! -> PART 1

About this chapter:

Genre: Comedy

Pairing: Platonic Kirishima x Reader (the main story is Bakugo x Reader!)

Warnings: Swear words, mentions of old injuries (not described)

Summary: Kirishima is an angel. His intentions were nothing but pure; to find his emotionally constipated bestie Katsuki a partner, but after meeting you on a job interview he decided that having someone entertain him and the team is more important than Bakugo’s well-being. Oh well, he really tried.

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Everyone loves Kirishima-kun.

Kirishima-kun is an angel.

He’s always the first one to arrive to the office, and he makes sure there is freshly brewed coffee ready for his grumpy ass colleagues, fresh cow milk and almond milk for them to choose from, and on his shopping days he always buys snackies for the staff room for everyone to munch on, even though he gets told off every time by Mr. Katsuki for making the fellow heroes “fat”.

Sometimes, Katsuki brings random veggies in and hides them between the cookies to make himself feel better about the massive amount of sugar in the room.

Needless to say, no one ever eats those veggies, mostly because they think it’s probably poisoned.

While it might look like Kirishima is nothing more than a fellow colleague in this massive office, he actually owns half of the agency.

It’s really hard to have any kind of power when your partner is Dynamight himself.

Katsuki is… a special kind of breed. Kirishima knows he shouldn’t be too harsh on his best friend but sometimes he thinks he’s not even a human.

If he is, he needs to get laid as soon as possible.

Katsuki is so emotionally constipated, it’s painful to watch. So Kirishima has a plan.

A really amazing, but slightly unprofessional plan.

Oh well, if he goes down, he wants to go down with style.

When Hanako-Chan came into his office to talk, Kirishima knew shit will go loose.

Hanako-Chan is the only person who never goes to Kirishima, as she is more than happy to consult with the grumpy one when it’s needed; for her to come to him meant nothing but trouble.

And oh boy, Kirishima can already see Katsuki’s tear-flooded eyes staring at him from his couch, the empty wine bottles around him all over the floor, spilling on his white, fluffy carpet. Katsuki might be emotionally constipated, but after a few big gulps of red wine he becomes an emotional, uncontrollable mess.

With that said, Katsuki is banned from drinking wine in front of anyone else but Kirishima.

It’s just… bad for the business.

Kirishima takes a deep breath and gets to work on his amazing plan; getting Katsuki the most badass assistant the world has ever seen.

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This is not what you wanted, but you will take what you get.

You are greeted by a lovely red haired man in his absolutely gorgeous hero costume, which is basically… well… his naked, toned upper body and some black trousers.

You might feel like it’s a tiny bit unprofessional, but who are you to tell your future boss what to do with his life?

You do you, Boo. - that’s your motto.

You sit down on the sofa in your fancy, super smart looking dress - you honestly can’t wait to go home and change into your favorite boots. You miss your comfy clothes and you really hope you’ll be able to wear whatever you want after you get hired.

Talking about getting hired…

“So let’s start this, shall we?” Says the red haired hero with a friendly smile on his cute face. You are not going to lie, while you understand why chicks (and dudes) love this guy so much, you are kinda sick of seeing his puppy face all over the place. He’s your best friend’s favorite, so there isn’t a single picture on the internet you haven’t seen.

He’s a nice chap though. You can always appreciate a man who doesn’t look at your cleavage, just because it’s visible. He is definitely a good bargain. You might need to do some meddling. You are kinda in a mood to go on a wedding anyway in a “I’m going to ruin your happiness because I’m lonely and sad” kinda way.

Hm, maybe ruining your best friend’s wedding isn’t the way to go though.

Wait, this is really not a good time to have this conversation with yourself. Red Riot is talking to you.

“So why did you choose our agency?”

No, saying “Number 1 Deku’s agency didn’t have a job available, neither did Number 3 Shouto who’s great to look at at least.” isn’t an answer.

Neither is “I’m bored”.

“My friend said a lot of nice things about this agency so I decided to give it a try.” You smile politely. It’s quite a vague answer but it’s still better than “my friend is obsessed with you so she made me apply.”

“Fair enough.” He smiles back at you. Even his eyes are smiling. He is definitely a cheesy romantic guy. Eww. “Your CV is amazing and I am really surprised to see you applying for the secretary job instead of being a side kick, or to be honest, you could just make your own agency with your experience. So what brings you here today, Y/N?”

Well. Time to rip that band-aid off. You don’t really like to talk about that terrible fight with a level S villain, but the truth is, you need to. You were known to be invincible as your quirk is basically being able to have any quirk you want for a certain amount of time and you can use multiple quirks at the same time if you really put your mind to it and concentrate. This is all nice and good but you are only a human and one mistake almost cost your life.

“I… I got seriously injured while trying to take down a group of villains back in my country.” You say, feeling so weak and pathetic already. “I’m not able to do hero work for at least a year as my body gets fed up after a few days of physical work, so I decided to move to Japan as it was always my dream to be here. My best friend is from Japan and I tend to visit her quite a lot anyway. She’s obsessed with the Japanese hero system, so obviously, I got curious about them too and what’s better that to work with them?”

You hope you sounded genuine, because to be honest… you were not.

Yes, you have all the respect for the heroes but you give zero F-cks about them. You hate how idolized these heroes are and while they are all good people to a certain degree; they save lives on a daily basis after all; being a hero and being a proper human being is two different things.

You are only here because you miss the adrenaline and you miss being able to help in one way or another. If you can’t do what you want to do, then do something for the people who can.

Goddamit, that sounds so dope, you should have said that in the first place!

You are so deep in your thoughts you don’t realize the frown on your face. Kirishima, the angel he is, clocks your uncomfortable mood right away.

Damn, you might not give this man to your bestie, he is a catch.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” Says the angel himself, remorse clearly written on his face.

“Oh, no, it’s absolutely not about that!” You say without hesitation. “I just made a really cool line in my head and I was furious I haven’t said it out loud.”

Jesus, you are such an idiot, it hurts.

“For the fuck’s sake, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Oh my god, please shut up.

“Oh fuck, sorry for swearing.”

This interview is definitely over.

“Aaaaaaand I just swore again. Great. I’m just…” You stand up from the sofa in the middle of your sentence. “I remember where the exit is, no need to escort me out. Thank you for your time and all that shit.”

For your absolute surprise, instead of the awkward silence you were expecting, loud laughter fills the room. The man is literally hyperventilating. Maybe you should call an ambulance, this man is having a seizure.

I mean, the situation is awkward enough to feel like you just want to die, so you can absolutely relate.

“Oh my god, you are absolutely hilarious.” Tears are falling from the man’s face, body scrunched up, he’s literally about loose his consciousness by the sound of his wheezing. “Is this your real self? Because if it is, you are hired. We will have so much fun having you around.” Says the crying redhead in front of you. This man has lost his marbles. “You two will be the funniest together, oh my god!”

His name shouldn’t be Red Riot.

RED FLAG suits him better. He is insane. You need to keep your bestie as far away as possible from this lunatic.

“Your sadistic thoughts are clearly written on your face Mister, behave yourself.” You giggle, shocking Mr. Kirishima with your pure honesty.

“Is it that obvious?” The readhead bites his lips to hide his cheeky smirk, unsuccessfully.

“If by obvious you mean it’s clear that you want your best friend to suffer miserably for your own entertainment, then yes, sir.”

“Well, first of all, it’s not just for MY entertainment. It’s for the team. And keep this a secret, will ya?” Your new boss winks at you with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“I’m more than happy to help. I’m a hero after all.” Comes your answer.

As you are about to leave with a new contract in your hand, your eyes find a big bowl of snackies on Kirishima’s desk. You don’t really understand the chocolate chip cookie x carrot sticks combo, but with a newly founded confidence you take a carrot out of the bowl and take a big bite out of it.

You have a fucking job. In Japan. Your boss is an absolute maniac, just like you.

This is definitely the best day of your life.

… Next Chapter

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Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai

[brunhielda]

I am currently watching through The Lord of the Rings again (as you do).

I love these movies. I will show them to my children (or nieces/nephews) and grand children and great grand children. There are quotes from these films that see me through dark days.

(Reason I can accept the flawed Hobbit films is that they too have quotes that stick around)

That said, as I watch with my parents and thier even older friend, I am listening to them react to Boromir the same way I did the first time I watched it. Knowing what I do now about the back ground of canonical Boromir, it hurts a little bit.

If you are a fan who has read the books, or even is involved with the online fandom- you know. Boromir is a good man- the best of men. He is supposed to be a shining example of the best of us, and his fall to the Ring is meant to show that it could happen to ANYONE. It is meant to be a message to us all that you are not your worst moment, or your worst fault.

And yet because of all the foreshadowing and arguing over choices to make during the quest, we the audience of the movie see him as someone just one step away from betraying everyone. His attempt to take the Ring is not a surprise, or even a tragedy, but a confirmation. The surprise is his redemption in death.

I think there is a version of “The Fellowship of the Rings” that I would have liked to see.

Indulge me:

Part of the problem is that Aragorn is falling into the spot Boromir could be filling. He’s just too epic to allow any other man next to him to look impressive. 🤴🏼

This not only does a disservice to Boromir, but to Aragorn himself, who could be having a much richer personal growth.

So, imagine this.

Strider leans more into his “Ranger in the Corner” persona. He is quiet, terse, filthy, mysterious, and comes across more like your traditional rogue than anything approaching Kingly.

Legolas is the only one to call him Aragorn, he does it exactly once when defending him to Boromir, and never again. Legolas himself is a little different- a few more sarcastic quips, more friendly and forward, the sunshine to Strider’s gloom. When they get to Lothlorian, the elves there acknowledge “Strider the Ranger” as someone known to them, but Legolas of the Woodland Realm does the negotiating. The vibe is “ah, yes… that human Elrond adopted. I suppose we should bid him welcome…” 🫤 (Obvious exception of Galadriel. She knows all. It just makes her seem more out there).

There are a couple less references to his lineage, and every time they do, the feeling from the audience should be- “Really? THAT guy?”

Arwen is clearly in a rebellious stage and looking for a bad boy. Him telling her to go very much has that angsty teen feel of “you could do better” and “I am poison to you.”

Elrond is clearly trying to get through to him, but do we think it is going to take? He remains quiet and moody. Was he the first to volunteer to go? Yes. But it was less a declaration and more of an ernest whisper meant for Frodo. Legolas’s immediate follow up is less “I am inspired” and more “My pet introvert will not survive without me, but I am so proud of you for asserting yourself.” 😂

Meanwhile- we have Boromir. Now, I love me some Sean Bean, but I need him at his most joyful. Most jovial. Give him a big old beard. Pad him out with thicker armor to give him a broader chest.

Boromir is supportive. Boromir is playful. Boromir is everyone’s big bro, ESPECIALLY the younger hobbits. I basically want every scene he has with Merry and Pippin expanded to everyone.

I want the sword drop to feel less like a stranger being disrespectful, and more like a himbo being clumsy.

I want him to talk about the path to Mordor of all the concern of the older sibling who has seen and been, and his dismissal of Aragorn to feel justified. “Yeah… sure, put that guy on the throne. Uh huh. I think we dodged an arrow there.” And I want the end of it to be a bit of a laugh and a clap on the back, and “no offense meant, Strider Ol’ chap, but you don’t seem the type!”

I want every disagreement with Gandalf or Gimli about which way to take to feel like him advocating for everyone’s safety.

I want him to slide into the role that Aragorn currently has, protecting everyone, especially Frodo, and to have Strider fall back into a quieter rear guard position, only to really speak up to sharply tell someone “don’t disturb the water” “Hide!” “get them up.”

Strider will speak on historical landmarks or lands we are entering, which always makes Legolas smile in support. “See, he knows cool things. I am telling you, you wanna be friends with my guy.”

Instead of Strider or Gandalf sending Gimli or Legolas chastising looks, we see Boromir, the peace keeper, laughing at both of them. “Come now master dwarf, the Elf will love trees as much as you love Rock, it is to be expected! I myself would be weary of being out in the open so often, and also loathe to spend as much time under ground as your kin, yet I have been known to be grateful for either tree or rock in a rough spot or two (chuckle) As I’m sure you would find the open forest or the dwellings of men far too open for your liking, but would not begrudge shelter in either when when the rain sets in. To each their own way, as my brother would say! You would like him (directed at Legolas) he speaks your poetry much better than I in any rate! (Aside to Gimli) I am more for the drinking songs myself. Speaking of, have you heard the hobbits tell you about their little place? Master Pippin- tell us, how do Hobbits live?” He just keeps cutting off rudeness with rambles about something his brother said or how the hobbits or men are like both of them, and really, do these fights between dwarves and elves matter when they have Sauron to face? Come! We are brothers in arms! There are moments they bask in it, and moments they are bonded by the annoyance of it. Either way he wins.

(In Lothlorien, they are bonded in grief, in appreciation of Galadriel, and in the strangeness of Boromir being too caught up in his own musings to try to fix them)

I want Galadriel’s speech to both Strider and Boromir to feel like a deepening of characters we are already starting to like, not confirmation of things we suspect. I want her to tell Frodo- “You know of who I speak” and have the audience to go “What?! WHO??? Who is this crazy woman talking about? Oh, she has those seer powers- what does she know?!”

I want every reference to Boromir starting to fall to the Ring to be less obvious foreshadowing, and more a sympathetic look behind the jovial curtain.

“What ails you Boromir?” “Oh- never mind me. My mind has gone back to my brother. I was meant to lead the armies you know.” Strained smile. “Now it falls on him. It is a heavy burden, but he is equal to the task. Probably better at it than me!” Laugh. “It will be well. When I see him again I will have to congratulate him on defending our people so well. And he will chastise me for being away so long to leave him to pick up the slack!”

Far away look. Any of the company gives him a questioning look. “We are not far from the borders of Gondor- she is just over that mountain.” Strained smile. “Forgive me, I have not before been so long from home. I did not realize I would yearn for it so. Perhaps that is why I keep trying to turn us that way- feet always point home, do they not?” (This would be poinant with Sam, Legolas, Gimli, or Strider)

At any of these moments, he glances at the ring. A glance. That is it.

If there are obvious moments of temptation, I want one for every single member of the Fellowship (the movie is long enough, there is room). Gimli admires its make, for all that it is wrought with evil. Dwarves know a thing or two about jewelry, you know. Very good craftsmen. Legolas speaks of the rings of the elves, How they never passed to his line- he isn’t surprised. Surprising bitter moment of saying his Father is one of the weakest of Elves. Gandalf interrupts his musing by talking about his ring. (Could be a moment of bonding with Gimli too) Strider tells Frodo he should preserve his strength- can he not put the Ring in a pocket or pass it to another hobbit? (He does not ask to take it, but music implies the question). Merry and Pippin keep talking about “I know it’s evil, but you have to admit, it has a nice shine to it, doesn’t it?” It is playful and flippant, but there none the less. Boromir might ONCE mention it’s use as a weapon, speaking of what Sauron was able to do with it “They say it was the Ring that allowed him to grow in size and strength- he could kill 8 warriors with one blow!” Only to back track when Strider or Gandalf give him a chastising look. “Forgive me,” he says with a laugh, “I am at heart a warrior, and see everything as a possible tactical advantage. Of course it would only do damage should anyone try to use it.” Gandalf turns away, mollified, Boromir whispers conspiratorially to Merry and Pippin “But imagine! Eight feet tall!” (Chuckles all around- foreshadowing to the two growing to be the tallest hobbits) The whole thing should be told around the fire at night like a good story- again, even in his weakness, we see him as an excellent big bro figure.

The point is, I want to get to Galadriel saying someone will take the Ring and the audience is suspicious of EVERYONE.

Then we arrive at the moment. We all have our suspicions. Strider has gone off to find Frodo. There are implications of everyone being out looking. We saw exactly one glance of Boromir’s shield. Out of everyone? The money is on the creepy mysterious Ranger who might have a heart under there but only seems to snap at people.

Then Boromir tries to take the Ring.

From this point on, EVERYTHING Is EXACTLY the AS THE ORIGINAL.

The context is wildly different.

The shock of Boromir taking the Ring has the gasp effect of Hans’ betrayal in Frozen.

Strider turning down the Ring has us all feeling guilty and weepy, because he’s just quiet and concerned damn it! He has always meant well!

Boromir suddenly realizing what he has done has us sobbing “He didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it! It was the Ring!” And then he immediately turns to defend Merry and Pippin. There are no dry eyes.

We have seen Strider fight- he has precision and skill. But this fight suddenly feels like he is proving something. Like he is standing up for this man who cannot. That is Boromir, Prince of Gondor you struck down, and he is NOT undefended! Something has shifted. Strider is rising, and it shows in this fight against the leader of the Uruki.

Boromir’s final words to Strider, he calls him Aragorn. He calls him brother. He calls him king. It feels less like a shift in view to culminate a redemption, and more like placing a mantle, more like giving final support. Boromir would have been next to lead the people of Gondor- he is giving it to his friend. Vibes of : “You tried to hide, but I saw you. The elf was right. You will be a great King.” Even at the end, he is the Big Brother we all want.

The last moments of the movie when Legolas sees the hobbits across the river is a shift. “Aragorn!” He calls “they have reached the other side…. You mean not to follow them.” We suddenly realize that Legolas was never leading his quiet anxious introvert around, he was always (more subtly) following his lead. Aragorn (as he is called for the rest of the films) is standing tall, and assertive, and making a decision for the group. And they follow.

People rewatch the Fellowship 3 times its first week in theaters, just to catch the moments that warn us that Boromir will fall, and the moments that hint that Aragorn might rise. There are cries of “No spoilers! Let your friends and family find out for themselves!” People break scenes apart to analyze this dynamic for years to come.

Going forward:

Because of this shift in context in Fellowship, the rest of the Trilogy feels more like watching Aragorn come out of his shell and taking on bigger and bigger rolls.

Meeting the Rohiren is suddenly the first time Aragorn speaks for the group. He does so because these are men, and because his friends are being idiots. 😂

The rebuff of Eowyn’s affections feels like more of the same from his relationship with Arwen- he does not feel he deserves it, even now. She is a leader of her people, and he is not yet sure he can say the same. By the time he can, it is clear Arwen’s heart is with him and his with her. It also feels as if he is leaving Eowyn room to pursue her own destiny, to be a leader in her own right. Arwen is supportive, where Eowyn takes charge- perfect for a fully supportive Faramir. 👍

His approach to Theoden feels less like shrinking away, and more like feeling out when he should lead and when he should step back.

Disrespect from any character feels less like a fault of theirs and more like “I mean, I get it, he’s a bit grimy, but he knows what he’s talking about! You don’t know him! He could be a king!” Theoden’s refusal to listen to him feels more like a tragedy, because how else could it have gone?

The entire Two Towers plot becomes a discussion of leadership. Gandalf swoops in and out, and expects people to listen to him. Eomer is direct and aggressive, but only leads warriors, not a kingdom. Theoden has many under his protection, he must weigh risks and lean on older wisdoms. And then there is Aragorn, still figuring himself out, helping Eowyn to do the same. (With every step he takes, we wonder how Boromir would have fit into this discussion- would Eomer have recognized him? Would Theoden have listened more or less to the leader of Gondor’s armies? Would Boromir have stepped back as often? Would he have insisted, in his still jovial way, and would it have caused conflict? Would he inspire men in the same way? Would it have worked as well? We have no idea how he would have handled Eowyn, besides stepping in as a brother since her’s is out fighting. Suddenly this thought of Boromir is on Aragorn’s face with every decision) What Aragorn figures out is that he himself is honest, ernest, and relies on the support and help of others. The conclusion of The Two Towers is the understanding that Aragorn does not need to be a King to be a Leader. That has always been in him. Has he not lead his group this far? Does he not make friends everywhere he goes? Does he not inspire men and elves alike? (Gimli is but one dwarf, and we do not get further examples 😂) He is not Boromir, or Eomer, or Gandalf, or Theoden, but still, he leads.

The Return of the King is an obvious end to his journey, but it feels more fulfilling, since we have seen Aragorn come farther. The moment he claims his birthright with the ghosts under the mountain is a moment that elicits cheers. His speech at the Black Gate brings tears, not just because of his words, but because of how far he has come.

When he is crowned, his reunion with and acceptance of Arwen’s love means more. His moment of humility in front of the Hobbits make us all see how he HAD to be a Ranger to be the Great King he has become. Pride swells.

And we give credit to Aragorn’s growth to the leadership of Boromir in the first film.

We are also struck to the heart when Faramir announces himself as Boromir’s brother. THIS is the brother he spoke so highly of? Did Boromir that bias towards his own flesh and blood, to think THIS man, who captures hobbits and tortures Smeagle, is someone to be proud of? But by the end of Two Towers we are proud too.

At the end of Two Towers, Faramir has seen Frodo nearly fall to the Ring. Did he believe them when they said it drove Boromir mad? Of course not. We didn’t believe it. And we only had one movie with the guy. No one who knew him would buy that. But then there is Frodo, with a sword to Sam’s throat- “Don’t you recognize your Sam?” And there is a horrified recognition on Faramir’s face. Is it what he knows his Father may someday do with or without the Ring? Is it the recognition of how, even in the best of him, his brother could be like his Father? Is it a vision of himself in that position, his brother over him, because he came back with the Ring as their father asked? And does he admire Samwise that much more, because he handled the aftermath of that so much better than Faramir would in his place? (“Something worth fighting for” indeed- Boromir gave the speeches, not him. He must have LOVED this sunshiny little gardener)

When Sam tells him he is of the finest quality- it means more. They are passing on a message after all.

There may be another line from Frodo- “He spoke of you. He knew you would be a good commander. He was anxious to be home and congratulate you. I am sorry it is me here instead of him. He would be so proud.”

Maybe it is Pippin who mentions it. Maybe we get a flashback to another scene between the two of them. “You remind me of my brother- curious, adventurous, but educated, mannered. Much better mannered than I, as it has often been said!” Loud laughter. “The two of you would make for good friends, should you ever meet.”

“Don’t worry for him too much Merry. I have known one as curious as he. He just wanted to understand the world, as does your cousin. It has served him well- he out grew the recklessness of it, and there is no one I trust more.” “Your brother?” Laugh “How did you guess?”

I want us to love Faramir not only because he is good, but because Boromir loved him, and he loved Boromir. I want us to think of Boromir and what he would say to his brother every time he is on screen. I want us to see the love of Boromir direct all his actions.

The parallels of Eowyn and Faramir hint at thier future relationship more clearly in this version, because the connection between Boromir and Aragorn as different leaders of Gondor continues to shine through. Boromir’s brother could not defy his father’s wishes because he loved him and almost died for it. Aragorn’s student (she feels like a sister when he puts her to the side) does defy her father figure, again because she loves him, and is victorious in battle. Both thier fathers die in the battle. When we spot them together in the houses of healing it is not as much of a surprise. It feels right. They have much in common. Also… as Eowyn is seen to grown into a leader as Aragorn does, she also gets her supportive soft romantic partner.

I want Big Bro Boromir to be there in all but flesh throughout the entire thing. I want Boromir’s bracers on Aragorn’s arms to not only be the first thing we notice in Two Towers, but something to feel so right as to be obvious. I want “Then I shall die as one of them!” to feel like a chastisement to Legolas- “Boromir was human too, and he would want us here.” I want “Gondor will answer” to feel like a certainty, because Boromir would. I want Pippin’s rescue of Faramir to feel like a keeping of a promise to love Boromir’s brother as much as a rescue of a new friend. I want us to see the bracer on Aragorn’s arm as much as the sword in his hand when he says “I am Isildur’s Heir.” I want Theoden’s ride to Gondor to tie back not just to Aragorn, but further back to Boromir- a promise has been kept, and inspiration has come to bloom. I want us to see the white tree flags on the battle field of Mordor and feel like Boromir walked in after all. I want us to cry that Boromir is not there to greet Frodo as he wakes, as much as we cry for everyone else’s happy ending.

It’s just an image I had tonight. A beautiful image. Big Bro Jovial Boromir. Laughing down warmly at everyone from heaven. Making us proud to be of the race of men before Aragorn could.

Like I said- I love these movies. But ah, what could have been.