#i hope vi is doin alright

[moistcl1tikal-ao3]

do you have other diehard fans, or just schlattsimp and jschladderall

idk lol

what's your name, nonny?

[i-maybe-exist]

every time i see a fandom post on your blog i am a combo of "are ya winning son" and "i like your funny words magic man" so i have no clue who your blorbos are but you have a technoblade/bdubs maybe rendog blorbo-haver vibe. i feel like i more often hear you talk about ocs and idk if those cpunt as blorbos,

ASAAFDWZGTWAXFTWAXTA fair-

i haven’t watched techno in a really long time, but i want to start watching bdubs n rendog at some point!

and i think ocs count! they’re just blorbos from my brain <3

[pinkmirth]

—𝟑𝟒 + 𝟑𝟓 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐀𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝗺𝐚𝐧 🍓🥛

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《𝗺𝗼𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔 + 𝐬𝗺𝐮𝐭 + 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠) + 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼/𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬 + 𝐛𝐥𝗼𝐰𝐣𝗼𝐛 + 𝟔𝟗 + 𝐟𝐞𝗺𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝗼𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 + 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝗼𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐧𝐚𝗺𝐞 “𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭” + 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜 ‘𝗺𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝗼𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝗼𝐧𝐠’ 𝐭𝐫𝗼𝐩𝐞 + 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐥’ 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝗺𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐯𝐢 + 𝐬𝐡𝐡𝐬𝐡𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝗼𝐫𝐥𝐝》

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Levi trotted with a scoff, grumbling profanities as always. He practically manhandled the doorknob to his living quarters, mind blurring between the basic elements of push and pull. 

“Shitty door,” murmurs Levi, not used to being this out of it, “and that even shittier company, makin’ me work overtime. I oughta quit—“

The knob then rattled from the other side, and he couldn’t help but let the briefest chuckle slip past his lips over your incoherent giggles, seeming to be rooted from excitement.

“About time, ‘Vi,” with the whish of the opening door, you set your eyes upon Levi with a grin, taking hold onto the black tie of his work attire to pry him further inside the house. 

“Is that supposed to mean you missed me?” Once again, Levi characteristically scoffs, despite his wholehearted smile. 

“‘Course I missed you, even if you came back by— what time is it, eleven..?” You recalled with a hum, engulfing your lover-man into a hug regardless. Sure, Levi finally arrived with less than an hour left of Valentine’s Day, but you couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t as though he wanted to come home at such a time..

Besides, it seemed as though he was a little caught up with last minute gifting as well, deeming by the pink festive gift bag he held in his unoccupied hand.

“Whatcha’ got there?” You queried jovially, pressing a chaste kiss upon his soft cheek before urging him to sit on the couch, plopping down beside him. The dark haired male sets the bag beside his feet, resting his elbow upon the puffy armrests.

“Whatever it is, it’s for me, yeah?” He snickered over the evident cockiness in your question, though you couldn’t have been closer to the truth. “No, I only bought it to sit and look pretty. Of course it’s for you, brat.”

He exhales, shifting around on the leather seat as subtle sounds emitted in response to his movements. “You know I hate to say the word, but..” you face Levi once you hear his lowered tone, the dark haired male prodding at his inner cheek with his tongue. 

“Sorry. For showing up late, I mean. Had to work overtime, out of all the damn days..” He kicks off his shoes all the while, huffing through his nostrils with a subtle eye roll.

“Hey, it's okay. At least you’re here now.” Your reply is genuine, soft. It causes Levi to smile to himself. 

“But I’ve just gotta say, That isn’t very fair of them to keep you so late.. Don’t they know you have me to come home to?” You address yourself with a teasing grin, inciting Levi to show a brief one of his own before his expression fell flat as always.

“It’s not as if they care about me. For all I know, they probably think I’m single,” was what he mumbled, watching you nod subtly to show he had your attention. Well, not exactly.

“You just gonna keep glancing between me and the bag or should I take everything in there for myself?” He snickered, picking it up by the drawstrings before allowing it to plunk down upon your lap.

“No, I wanna listen to you before anything else,” you told him, setting it down with a pout. “I’m all ears, ‘Vi.”

“I don’t have much left to say, though,” Levi shrugged, “I’m just..”

“Stressed?” You finished off your boyfriend’s weary statement, earning his lowly huff in reply as he threw his head back onto the sofa’s headrest, eliciting yet another sharp sigh.

“Yeah. More than usual.” admitted Levi, tugging at the base of his tie, which was beginning to feel rather contracting.

 “You want a little shoulder rub, my love?” Your suggestion caused the tips of his ears to go red in an instant.

Subtle massages always resulted in something much more lewd than intended with you and Levi, and maybe that was why you’d offered such a thing in the first place. Though, who was he to deny?

“..Yes, please.” His response came out gruff and brief, the grumbling male beginning to rid himself of his blazer. 

“The shirt, too.” You mused, gesturing towards his buttoned up dress shirt. “—And what if I don’t?” It was merely a part of his nature to rebel, so you didn’t mind his taunting query. He was simply acting resistant, but that was the Levi you knew and loved. 

“Then forget about the massage. It won’t be as effective with clothes in the way,” you stated matter-of-factly, tugging at his collar all too teasingly.

“Bullshit.” He spat, begrudgingly undoing his buttons nonetheless. “Such a good boy,” Levi practically growled in reply to the nickname. You were obviously enjoying this way too much for his liking.

He withdrew his hands from the sleeves with a hint of aggression, tossing it aside before allowing his bare back to press along the cool leather of the couch.

“Quit your damn staring.” Levi said, clicking his teeth before emitting another round of incoherent murmurs. “Calm down, I’m just— admiring.” You whispered, eyes trailing along every ridge and curve of muscle on his body, drinking up the physique of the man before you. 

With a height like Levi’s, it would never be expected for him to have such a defined frame. Despite that, you knew well of all the muscle that rippled underneath his button-up shirts and tucked-in ascots.

“Alright, you ready, ‘Vi?” You queried your lover with a grin, albeit you definitely weren’t finished with eyeing his toned abdomen until the image was burned into your visual memory. Although, knowing Levi, he was bound to grow restless if you didn’t make a move.

Shimmying over to straddle Levi’s slim waist, your fingers began off thrumming against his tensed shoulders playfully, earning a groan from him nonetheless. “Relax for me, won’t you?” You muttered, skilled digits threading along his skin, kneading over his contracting muscles. 

You were fixed on being painfully teasing, sliding your palms along his bulging triceps while veering closer, lips ghosting along his earlobe. Levi hoped you didn’t catch the way his breath hitched.

“This doesn’t seem like a massage anymore.” Levi spoke strainedly, “You feeling any better?” Was all you asked, averting from his earlier claim, “Well, you’re not doin’ so bad..” he then murmured, subtly shivering over the way your breath fanned upon his neck. He began to tilt his head expectantly, giving you leverage to bombard him with a kiss or two.

“Hey, Levi,”

“Yeah?”

 With the mischievous gleam you send him, his stomach delightfully twirls. You run your hands along his firm chest, palms gliding across his flawless skin before you tuck aimless strands of hair behind his ear, fingers grazing against his undercut.

“You want a blowie, too..?” He practically chokes, albeit his hooded obsidian eyes peering up at you yearningly. “You horny little monster—“ he isn’t even halfway through with his sentence when you slide yourself off of him, your knees meeting with the fuzzy carpet below.

“Yes or no, ‘Vi?” Your query is accompanied with a persuading smile, hands running along his slack-clothed thighs, threateningly close to his zipper. 

It wasn’t always like this; Levi would usually be the one having you blubbering and whining for his touch in mere seconds. Though, he was going to let you have this, just for today. It was the most he could do to make it up to you after leaving you by your lonesome on Valentines. Besides, it’d be a blatant, almost painful lie if he claimed that he wasn’t already enjoying it all.

“Just touch me already, dammit..” his grouching sounded more pleading than he’d wanted it to come across, but it seemed to work in his favor, considering how your hands dove to undo his belt.

Your fingers move nimbly, tugging at Levi’s slacks until he complies with the lifting of his hips, aiding you in slipping them past his hips until they pool at his ankles. To your delight, his member was already protruding underneath the thin of his skin tight briefs, subtly twitching while clad in his underwear. 

“You’re too cute, ‘Vi.” you swoon, dragging your fingers along his drool-worthy bulge. He then averts his obsidian eyes from yours, light hues of pink gracing his cheeks, breathing growing ragged. “Gettin’ all excited just because of a shoulder rub—“

“Fuck you.” he rasps, thighs tensing as he claws at the armrest.

“Geez, babe,” you chuckled lightly over his vulgarity, “I just wanna make you feel good after such a long day..” he was sure you were more fixated on sucking his cock, but sure, your statement worked out too..

The expression you held was one that Levi knew all too well, from the moment you'd pulled him in from the length of his tie to now, ridding him of those all-too-restricting boxers. 

Need. You needed him. Luckily, your loverman was more than willing to give in to your fervor for him.

You release the elastic of his briefs with a light snap before watching his cock bob against his abdomen, the lubricating precum causing the swell of his cockhead to look so sheen, so suckable.

“I don’t like the way you’re eyeing me, brat,” Levi heaved, eliciting a choked gasp once your dainty hands wrapped around him, “Should I look away, then? Your dick is out, so I really can’t help but stare.” You voiced out a taunting giggle.

They’re such a fuckin’ brat.. Levi had to scowl internally, since he was too busy stifling his pretty little groans on the outside. 

“You were all I could think about today, ‘Vi.” You whisper, your fingers pressing firm along the underside of his cock, “I'm trying so hard to hold back from touching you all over,”

“I ain't stopping you,” retorted Levi breathlessly, expression smug albeit his reddened cheeks and hooded eyes. Your unoccupied hand inched along his knee, achingly dragging your fingers across until you reached his athletically firm inner thigh.

“Fine then” you mused, “Just try not to cum so early, love.” 

Levi relentlessly stirred in his seat just as you decided to implement something that was sure to drive him mad; your tongue. His twitching cock prodded at your anticipating lips before sinking into your mouth swiftly, weighty and resting on your tongue with a repetitive throb. His saline-like precum tasted borderline saccharine as you relished the feel of his thickness encasing your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Levi voiced out an explicit moan with his head thrown back, the swirl of your tongue lathering at his cockhead causing him to seethe in pleasure. You ran your tongue against the underside of his length, trailing your wet muscle along the healthy veins that littered his dick.

By the moment his breathing picks up, you pull yourself off with a faint pop. Saliva coating your lips as you pressed them against his pink, raging tip, eyeing your boyfriend as he drank up each and every one of your wet kisses.

“I love having you in my mouth, baby,” you swooned, your dainty hand gripping him at the base as the other slid over to his balls, fondling and kneading until Levi elicited a lengthy grunt.

“I wanna taste you too,” He eventually uttered out, breathless but determined. “But I wanted to please you..! Leviiii—” he suddenly teeters towards you, cutting off your anticipated whine with a kiss, fervent and open mouthed, darting his tongue within your mouth just to hear your squeals.

“No buts. Let me, [Y/N].” He drawled out his plea, voice deep and guttural, bubbling with lust. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” Levi narrated his desire between your shared kisses, “But if you really wanna suck me off that damn bad, I've got a clue of how we could make it work.” Your ears perk up at his offer, your lips curving into a grin against his.

“A six-nine, huh? Who knew you could be so fun?” You taunted, punctuating your claim with the tug of your teeth upon his bottom lip. 

“Just get on top of me before I change my mind..”  hissed Levi, shifting over from being seated and  looming over you to lying flat on the couch. “Come,” he induced you to crawl towards him, his expression holding a complacent beam once you made your way over, his hands immediately beginning to roam along your ass while you pressed yet another chaste kiss on his tip.

“Take these off or they’re gettin’ ripped.” he’d demanded of you, eyeing and plucking at your polka-dot baby blue panties with a glare so craving that you could feel it— and it made your essence seep into the sheer material.

“So fuckin’ wet. You’re all riled up for me, yeah?” He murmured lowly, allowing you to raise your legs from either side of his face, tugging and shimmying your underwear down until you kicked them off of your ankle.

“Only you, Levi,” your words were hardly above a whisper, his member standing erected before your face, throbbing from the way your breath fanned upon it. 

“Fuck, just look at the way you’re dripping..” just as he spat his vulgar words, his strong hands finding their way upon your ass once again, he’d bucked his hips up, lunging his cock straight into your awaiting mouth, cockhead nudging at the back of your throat.

“Ngh—!”

“‘Bet you want me to fucking devour this cunt of yours, don’t you, brat?” Levi seethed, his breathy chuckle causing your pussy to throb, sounding almost condescending. “Hm? Is that what you want? Eat you out ‘til you’re crying?”

Levi then thrusts up into your mouth yet again, his pace steady as your saliva trails along the side of his pulsing dick, your murmurs converting into pleasurable shivers that ran from his sensitive tip all the way to the tensing in his abdomen.

“M-mhm..” your humming earns a guttural groan from the male underneath you, his warm breath fanning along your fluttering cunt. As much as you anticipated his touch, he found great fun in making you whine and wait. But that teasing entertainment would only last for long. Afterall, he practically pleaded to get a taste of you..

Once he finally ran his tongue along your slicked folds and lower lips, it was pure bliss. You shuddered over how he groaned against your heat, sinking lower onto his cock, as his wet pink muscle began to traverse through your cunt all the while.

“Damn,” Levi merely chuckles somewhat drunkenly, swiping the tip of his tongue against your awaiting clit, grinning once you begin to spasm above him, subtle but noticeable.

“You like that?” queries Levi, tongue making contact with your delicate bud as he suckles and licks, earning your muffled moans vibrating along his throbbing girth.

“Don’t stop sucking my cock, brat,” he then warns, popping his lips off of your convulsing heat, hips swiftly rolling up as his thick shaft stuffed your mouth.

You grind yourself against his mouth in response, eliciting a croaked sob when he abruptly jutted out tongue, gliding it from your puckering, drooling hole to your puffy clit.

“L-Levi—!” You pop your mouth off of his cock, emitting a warbled cry of his name. “Keep touchin’ me,'' he breathes, slender fingers digging into your hips as he grinds your saccharine, sopping cunt along his flickering tongue, your fervent rocking leaving him gasping for air.

You can’t help but bite your lip over his ministrations, getting your hands to work as they twist and writhe around his length. “I-inside, ‘Vi, inside,” you plead of your lover, lightly bouncing your pussy against his essence-lathered lips.

“Want me to tongue fuck your pretty pussy? Make you feel good?” He snickers darkly, prodding the oral muscle at your fluttering hole mockingly, “Then beg.”

“You’re so mean,” you whimper while your hands continue working at his cock, quickly giving in to his demands nonetheless, “Please, put your tongue inside me, Levi—“

A lengthy wail is forced out of you before finishing your statement, his tongue inserting you with a swift and warm thrust, swirling along your clenching walls before retracting back into his mouth and propelling right back inside, lewdly slurping at your juices with a lustful vigor.

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Your repetitive cries of stimulation cause Levi’s tensing member to throb heavily, pulsing against the messy, pleasureful rubs of your fingers. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” he incoherently grunts beneath you, gently rotating his hot, salivating tongue inside your spongy, rapidly tightening walls, his own climax beginning to evolve from indistinct twitches to lurid shudders.

The sloppy and brisk flicks of your wrist cause vulgar, arousing squelches to elicit as your palm massages his fairly wet thickness, shakenly licking and sucking at his cockhead as his tongue’s ministrations did none but continue,  ravaging at your swollen clit despite the way your body violently shuddered above him.

“—g-gonna cum!” Levi simply hums against your cunt in response to your moaned sobs.

“Then cum. Cum in my mouth.”

You squeeze at his shaft, as if bracing for the blissful impact before emitting a lengthy, dulcet moan, your essence gushing upon Levi’s skilled tongue, legs trembling. He does nothing but drink you up lewdly, brows deeply furrowed as he groans into your pussy.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Levi then curses within a low, strained groan of his own, thrusting his hips up vigorously until thick, white ropes spurt out from his throbbing cock and onto your agape mouth, dribbling down your lips as you lazily dart out your tongue, letting it run down your throat with a sleepy hum.

You gradually settle your spent body on his own, resting your cheek against his firm thigh as he rubs at your hips consolingly, fingers skimming along the small of your back. 

“...You’re the most admirable brat I’ve ever known, y’know. Made this shitty day a little bearable, made me feel good.” you elicited a soft chuckle over Levi’s uttered attempt at a compliment. At least he had the right spirit, you’d say.

“Love you, ‘Vi,” you murmured genuinely.

“I love you more.” whispers Levi, arms circling around your waist from beneath you. “By the way, there’s money in the bag.” 

You suddenly spring up from your lax position, lidded eyes peering at the gift bag with newfound vitality.

“How much yen, ‘Vi?” You question, grinning widely.

“See for yourself.” retorts Levi.

You crawl off of his toned but relaxed form, peeking into the red-magenta bag expectantly as you dig past the pink bows and layering paper. He can’t hold back his grin when you emit a grateful squeal.

You turn back to Levi, laying your head right against his bare chest, bodies mingling as his hands run down to encase your hips, while your hand runs along his subtly barbed undercut.

“You’re the best, sugar daddy~” he grunts in distaste over your snickered joke, “I’m not your gotdamn sugar daddy, you little brat..” he grumbled, his palm landing against your ass with a faint smacking sound.

You take his ministrations lightly, giggling over the subtle spanking. Though, it seemed that Levi merely  wasn’t in the joking mood. It isn’t even five seconds after that when you’re flipped over, practically manhandled with Levi’s raw strength, the dark haired male now hovering over your pretty frame upon the spacey couch.

“Now that I think of it,” you’re anticipating his answer more than anything else, smugly grinning up at him expectantly as his hands encase your wrists, pinning them beside your head. Levi’s breath fans and tingles against your ear, your boyfriend apparently harboring a new surge of libido, “It seems like this brat needs a bit of punishment.”

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[unloved-cadillac]

Maybe something like fem reader getting in a bad accident one day and losing her memory but Levi is the only thing she remembers, so she’s clinging on to him like a lost puppy while he tries to help her regain her memories

C/n: “a lost puppy” why is that so adorable? Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

——————————————————————————

Remember You. (Levi x Reader)

It was just a stupid training exercise. A stupid field day where nothing bad was supposed to happen.

But cadets, who were no older than 15, were bound to make mistakes and fuck up a couple of times before getting the handle of a 30kg gear. You stood on a branch, munching an apple while watching the new recruits shoot across the forest. “Pick it up! Activate your gas if you need to! Watch your sides and don’t slow down!” You shout and take a bite of your apple. “How ya doin’, Y/n?” Jin asks as he lands next to you. “Alright. They need to work on their speed though.”

Jin was about to reply but a young girl, who was named Christa, shouted as her gear stopped mid air. You acted quickly and shot your gears towards her. “Hey now. Don’t panic.” You say as you fiddle with her anchor shooters and unjam it. “Alright. Shoot it there and when you’re done, go straight to squad leader Hange. She’ll help you sort your gear out.” You smile and Christa nods. When she leaves, you were about to go to the parallel branch but then you heard a loud “WHOA! WATCH OUT!”

But this person slammed into you, and instead of saving yourself, you became a human cushion to save the person from slamming into a tree. You did though and you hit your head first and got knocked out cold.

~~~~

Levi stood watch as the doctors examined you. He leaves for five minutes and comes home to the news that you’ve been in an accident with a cadet. Apparently, Yeager was too caught up in his own world to watch where he was going and rammed straight into you. “I’ll see to it that Yeager is on stable duty.” Jin says and Levi nods. He didn’t care. He just wanted you awake.

The doctors said that you suffered a major concussion due to you taking the fall on your head. You were in a mild coma that should last a couple of days and when you wake up, you had to be on leave for a month to regain your strength.

Levi never left your side. Despite having duties a Captain has, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you. One night, Levi placed his head down and held your hand as he drifted off to sleep. Maybe he was too tired and sleep deprived, but he felt your hand squeeze his.

~~~~

The next morning, you slowly opened your eyes to bright lights. Where were you? What is this?

You looked down to see Levi facing you as he slept. He woke up as soon as he felt you shuffle and looked at you, wide eyed and smiled. “About time, brat.” He leans forward and cups your cheek. “How are you?” He asks in a hushed tone that could make you fall back to sleep.

“L-Levi. Where am I?”

“The infirmary. You took quite a knockout, my love.”

You furrow your eyebrows as he speaks. A knockout? You don’t remember a knockout. “How did that happen?”

As Levi was about to answer, the door slams open to reveal Hange. “Ah! Y/n! You’re awake!!” She squeals and you grip Levi’s hand harder. “Wh-Who are you? Who is she, Levi?” You turn to him and he tilts his head. “That’s..Hange, Y/n. Your best friend?”

“Yeah! It’s me!” She exclaims.

You lean closer to Levi as you eye her. “Levi is my best friend. I don’t know where I am or who you are but I know Levi is my boyfriend and best friend.” You pout and turn your head away and nuzzle Levi’s neck. He looks at Hange who looks back in the confusion. “I’ll get a doctor.”

~~~~

Short term memory loss.

That’s what you were diagnosed with. Apparently you knew nothing about the survey corps or how you got here. But you remembered him. How he saved you from a titan all those years ago but to you, it was a few months back.

You went with Levi back to your shared room and sat in the bed. “Comfy?” He asks as he fluffs up your pillow. You nod and he kisses your forehead. “You really don’t remember anything do you?”

“I remember you. That’s all that matters, right?” You smile as you cup his cheek. He takes your hand and kisses your palm. As much as he loved that, you were an important person to the Corps. A leader. Your squad needs you but now, your mindset is back to when you lived in the village and he rescued you.

“We need to do something to get your memory back. Let’s take a walk. I’ll be right with you.” He offers and you nod. “Okay.”

So now, Levi walked down the corridor with you on his arm. Many soldiers stood and saluted the both of you but you just hid your face in his arm. Levi jerks his head to dismiss them and continues your walk.

You both head to the mess hall where many soldiers sat and ate and talked. With you on his arm, everyone looked at you. They never saw him so open with affection with you before but it was different now.

You were a town girl. A civilian in your head.

Erwin stood up as you sat down with Levi at the table. “Y/n. How are you?” He asks as you hold Levi’s hand. “I’m ok. Thank you. You are?” You stick your hand to shake his. Erwin knew that you couldn’t remember him and he missed seeing the shy girl that used cling to Levi before. “Erwin Smith. Commander here at the Survey Corps. Lovely to meet you.”

Levi glares at Erwin as he used the same line he used back then. He looked at you to see you close your eyes and sigh. “You alright?” You look at Levi with a confused expression. “Yeah. I think.” Hange decides to make an appearance and sits next to you. “Hiya! I’m Hange! Hange Zoe. I see you and Levi are quite the couple.” She remarks and you blush.

“Yes. He makes me very happy. I’m glad to have met him.” You say as you lock eyes with Levi who smiled at you. Suddenly, many youngsters stand by you as they introduce themselves to you.

“I’m Eren Yeager! Lieutenant L/n, I’m so sorry for causing your injuries. I assure that I’m working harder on my control and speed on the ODM gear.” A young brown-haired boy says and you tilt your head. “Huh?”

Levi glares at Eren who cowers away. You smile at the bit when your head starts to pain. “O-Ow.” You cry as you hide in Levi’s shoulder, holding your head. “What happened?” He asks as he holds you. “M-My head. It hurts, Levi.” Levi eyes Hange who gives him a cup of water and he holds it to your lips. “Here, drink.” You quickly gulp down the liquid and then look at Levi.

“Le…vi?”

~~~~

A warm bed and strong arms surround you as you start to wake up. You look up to see Levi watching you. “Hi.” You greet and he hums as he kisses your head. “How’s your head?” He asks as he touches your cheek. “Much better apparently.” You tear away from his arms and wake up to stretch.

“Do you…remember how you got hurt, babe?”

You turn and face him as you rub your temple. “Uh..yeah. I helped a cadet and another came flying towards me. Then..I..,” you widen your eyes and look at Levi who had a small smile on his face. “Oh my god. Did I really do that?” He nods and you cover your face.

Levi gets up and hugs you from behind. “I really liked having all shy. Like we were first together and you were blushing.” He mumbles as he kisses your shoulder. “Did my squad see me like that?”

“Yeah. They had a really good laugh, by the way.”

Great. Now the whole army knows how much of a blushing girl you were before you became a hardcore lieutenant of the Survey Corps.

——————————————————————————

“Thomas Shelby. That’s it. That’s the post. Send tweet.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[conretewings]

Old Wounds and New Chances

-An idea I've had for a little while and more of an introductory to Rosemary and some of her backstory. Fluff, angst, and some hints of a crush. I hope you enjoy!-

Shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other and pulling her hood up to better shield her face from the chill air, Rosemary stepped nimbly over a puddle of heaven-knew-what and dodged out the way of a cluster of people, nearly bumping into a pile of crates in the process. The man tending the crates, which were full of some manner of questionable looking produce snapped at her to watch it before going back to his cigarette and haggling with his customer.

She ignored him and pressed on, weaving through the dank, crowded, eerily lit corridors of the Lanes on her way back to her and her brother Virgil's repair shop. The bag contained a few tools they needed, their dad's medicine, a couple small cakes, and a pouch of coins that she'd wrapped with cloth to dampen any jingling sounds; no need to invite the temptation of pickpockets.

Ducking into a small side alley, she leaned against the wall, soaking up the heat hissing and leaking from a large pipe next to her and taking a moment to get her bearings. Despite being back 'home' for the last month, she'd still occasionally find herself semi-lost. She shouldn't be too hard on herself, after all, it had been some time since she lived here, and much had changed over the years...oh, so very much.

Her hands clutched the bag strap in a white-knuckle grip and tears blurred her vision with the memories flitting across her mind's eye, some wonderful, some bittersweet, some heartbreaking, but she swiftly managed to get her emotional state under control again; being vulnerable at all could spell danger. That much had remained unchanged.

Pondering which direction to go, her ears picked up a burst of scuffling, shouting and curses from nearby. Nothing unusual down here, but the voices were distinctly those of young children...and before she knew quite what she was getting into made a dash towards the commotion. Rounding the corner she gasped, seeing three boys and two girls in the midst of a squabble, with the smaller of the girls hiding behind the taller one as she valiantly but hopelessly tried to fend off their attackers. The boys were all a little older and definitely larger, but that wasn't stopping their target from swinging her small fists and kicking at them. It was apparent the girls would swiftly be overwhelmed and hurt-or worse-if someone didn't interfere...

Stalking over, Rosemary drew a breath and let out a furious shout, "What do ya three think you're doin'?!" She snatched them all by their collars and hauled them backwards, where in their shock and anger wrenched from her grip and made a run for it, cursing and flashing their middle fingers at her as they dissapeared.

"That's right ya buncha cowards! And if I ever catch ya doin' that again it'll be hell to pay! Little beasts!" Rosemary bellowed after them, then carefully turned to the two girls, who had been watching warily. The smaller girl, her blue hair streaked with mud, clung to the taller one, her dark pink hair a mess and blue eyes piercing Rosemary with a ferocity startling for her young age. They couldn't have been more than roughly six and maybe ten.

The older woman slowly knelt a few feet away, doing her best to seem friendly and non-threatening, "You two a'right? Any injuries?"

They simply shook their heads, and Rosemary pressed her lips into a thin line, not sure to which question they were responding, but of course her first one was stupid; clearly they weren't alright.

"Okay...what's your names then?" she tried, "I'm Rosemary."

The older of the pair spoke up, in a voice that was weary yet she tried to mask it, "I'm Vi. This is my sister Powder..."

"'Ello, Vi, Powder," nodded Rosemary with a gentle smile, "I don't know what that was all 'bout, but I do know ya better get on home..." gazing at them, just another couple of lost children of the Underground, something clicked in her mind and heart; in their wide eyes she saw the reflection of her own desperate, hardscrabble youth.

Standing, she asked, "What say I escort ya to make sure you're safe? Just in case those little monsters come back or anyone else tries to mess with ya? I'll kick their ass myself."

She adds a wink at this last point and Powder gives her a tiny smile, while Vi holds her sister tightly and stares Rosemary down the same degree of suspicion. Sighing, Rosemary digs into her bag and pulls out the two small, semi-stale cakes. She had been saving them for her and Virgil, but she knew these two could use them more.

"Here, as a token of good faith I'll give ya these," she held them out, adding, "No strings attached, 'cept for 'elping ya get home. Whattaya say?"

She could see Powder subtly lick her lips, eyes shining as she gazed longingly at her older sister and tugged at her shirt. Vi looked at her, then at the offered food and finally Rosemary, a flash of conflict crossing her face before lunging and grabbing them, handing one to Powder.

Rosemary smiled wryly as the girls tore into them with gusto, while Vi looked up at her and mumbled through a mouthful of cake, "Fanksh..."

Readjusting her bag, she pushed some stray chunks of dark black-brown hair behind her ear and nodded, "You're welcome. A'right, lead the way..."

The little trio wove their way through the packed streets, beginning to turn muddy from the drizzle and fog that had set in. It was a relief when they turned a corner into a wide open area and Vi pointed to a large building near the back of this section, saying that was it. Rosemary gaped up at it as they approached; a tall, imposing structure, and like so many others here a cobbled together mishmash of wood, metal, various pieces of junk, pipes and whatever else could be utilized. A sign hung partway up it's front face, but being unlit and with the thickening mist Rosemary couldn't read it.

As they approached the front door, a small group of people exited, all looking very serious and some downcast. One woman did a double-take upon seeing the girls.

"For fucks-where have you two been?! He was about to send a goddamn search party." she spat, angrily puffing her cigarette.

Vi crossed her arms, with Powder mirroring her, "We were trying to find stuff to sell."

"Well stay close next time..." the woman then turned her sharp eyes to Rosemary, "Who are you? Why do you look familiar?"

Rosemary shrugged, and the woman scoffed, flicking the cigarette at her feet before the group wandered off. Ah, home sweet home, thought Rosemary bitterly as her and her companions pushed the door open and entered.

She paused after shutting the door, finding herself standing in a large barroom, many mismatched tables and chairs arranged around it, the only real source of light currently coming from the bar area itself. This was their home? The room was devoid of any people, save for a large, lone man sitting at a corner booth whom the girls made a beeline for.

In the dimness she couldn't make out his features, but as the kids got closer he spoke-and Rosemary felt her heart nearly stop.

"Vi! Powder! Where were ya?! What I tell ya 'bout runnin' off like that!?"

She knew that voice. She'd know it anywhere. It was burned onto her memory and very soul like a tattoo. Flashes of those memories once again swirled in her mind, so swift and numerous she felt dizzy for a moment, but quickly steadied herself.

He was too occupied with sternly yet lovingly lecturing the sisters and looking them over for injuries to notice the pale, slightly trembling woman still in the doorway until when questioning Powder about how they'd gotten so dirty, the tiny girl turned and pointed to Rosemary.

"Some jerks tried to beat us up but this nice lady chased them off, then gave us food and brought us home!"

"Oh! Well that was very kind...of...you..." the man had stood and taken a few steps toward her, but with the slightly improved light they could see each other properly and his words trailed off. Rosemary's heart went from frozen in disbelief to hammering so hard she was certain he could hear it as well. The man gaped at her in what she guessed was no doubt equal shock.

"...Rosemary...?"

"...Vander...?"

They continued to regard each other in silence, each of their minds whirling with a hurricane of thoughts and emotions. Vi looked back and forth between them quickly before breaking the thick quiet.

"You two know each other?"

Seeming to snap out of his trance, Vander rested one large hand on each of the sister's shoulders and gave them a clearly forced smile, "A'right girls, let's thank the nice lady for helpin' ya yeah? Then why don't ya get cleaned up and hang out in your room for a bit? Get some rest. I'll be in to check on ya shortly."

Rosemary knelt as they took a couple steps toward her. Vi rubbed her arm awkwardly but then graced her with the first smile she'd seen on her small face, "Thank you..."

"Why did you help us?" Powder blurted, to which Rosemary gave a sad chuckle, "Someone has to do what they can to make things better for folks. Besides I grew up 'ere too. I know how much a friend can mean."

Gently, Vander shooed them toward a side hall and they, seemingly reluctantly, complied, throwing curious looks over their shoulders as they ducked out of sight.

Rosemary stood again, not sure where to begin, but Vander seemed to. Without a word he strode behind the bar and took out two glasses and a bottle of liquor. Pouring a doubles worth into each, he hesitated, then brought both bottle and glasses back around to a nearby table and sat heavily. After a moment of unbearable silence he met her gaze hollowly and gestured to the empty chair across from him.

"Well. Ya gonna join me?"

"You sure the owner won't mind ya just helpin' yourself?" Rosemary huffed out a strained laugh.

The way his eyebrow ticked up with the corner of his mouth in the slightest, dry smile-oh, she could still read his expressions and blinked in surprise.

"Oh. You are the owner..."

Before any doubt could creep in she approached the table, setting her bag at her feet and occupying the offered seat. Picking up her glass, having to concentrate to stop her hand from noticebly shaking, she took a slow sip and used the moment to study him. Though it had been a mere two years since they'd crossed paths, she could already see the change in him; there was grey beginning to creep into his dark brown hair and beard, not unlike herself, and the lines around his mouth and eyes were deeper than she remembered. His right arm now bore a heavy leather gauntlet instead of the layers of cloth he used to wear.

She nervously fiddled with the glass, knowing she should be the first to speak, after all she'd been the last to those couple years back and had to swallow the lump in her throat remembering how she'd stormed off after their argument and all the time she spent regretting it thinking she'd never get to see him again.

"I uh...never thought you'd be a dad, but here you are..." she began, choosing an icebreaker that sidestepped the rougher topics.

"Neither did I, but here we are..." he echoed, a bemused note to his voice, "There's two more of 'em lurkin' somewhere. And I wouldn't consider m'self that, not yet. I'm just...doin' my best to look after 'em..." here his tone became more bitter, "Least I could do after what 'appened to their parents when..."

Between his words and what she'd heard plenty about since coming back, she managed to piece together what he wasn't saying and wondered aloud, "Did...did they lose them during-"

"I don't want to talk about it." he interrupted her sharply, more then he meant to, he realized, and let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair.

His gaze flicked to meet hers, and it was then she realized probably the biggest difference in him; his eyes. They were the same steely grey, still full of fight and fire, but now they held a heavy weight that hadn't been there before, one that spoke of unbearable heartache and loss. How much has she missed?

Something there pulled at her, and despite his harsh tone only moments ago, she swallowed thickly, vision wavering with the tears brewing, "I'm...I'm sorry I left you all..."

He hummed, finishing off his drink in one long swallow and refilling the glass, then leaned back in his chair, "You...had an opportunity to make good money, help your family and ya took it...can't rightly fault ya for that. I'm...beginnin' to understand..."

His gaze now flitted toward where the girls had gone, the faintest ghost of a smile on his face and Rosemary blinked; she had fully expected his ire or some manner of sarcastic remark, especially after their last shouting match. He really had changed...and it seemed those kids were the catalyst. She finished off her own drink, knowing she would need a little more if this was going to continue and he reached to refill her glass as she murmured her thanks.

He absently swirled his glasses contents, glancing back and forth from her to some indistinct point on the wall, seemingly unsure where to settle his eyes, "To be even more 'onest, it's probably for the best ya weren't around. With what...how things went and 'ave been you're better off..." now his eyes fixed on something only he could see in his mind, and his hand clenched into a white-knuckle fist, the slightest tremble there as his voice drops to barely a murmur, "Ya probably woulda been killed too..."

"Vander..." Rosemary breathed, and almost without thinking gingerly reached to wrap her hand around several of his fingers, pausing to gauge his reaction. When he didn't seem to mind she continued, "I've heard a lot of things since I got back...and I'm not really sure what's true 'n what isn't. I was...hoping to get the real story from you. What...actually 'appened the day of the upri-"

Abruptly and roughly, Vander yanked his hand away and whirled to glower at her with almost a snarl, "I said I don't want to talk about it!"

Rosemary was momentarily taken aback; here was the anger, the hurt she had been expecting. She could see it in the swirling clouds of his eyes, the guilt and anguish of whatever sins he bore, and he briefly turned himself away, downing his glass in one swallow only to refill it again. She had a notion he did this often. Still...she had done nothing, said nothing he hadn't already hinted to himself. This anger toward her felt...unwarranted. She hadn't sat down with him to fight, but she felt her own anger, festering with everything she'd gone through begin to bubble up.

"Then why bring it up in the first place? You're the one who's been dancin' around it."

"I was just-" he exhaled loudly, pinching his brow, "Just respondin' to what ya said. Didn't want to get into it."

She glared at him from the corner of her eye, chugging her whiskey and grabbing the bottle for her own refill, "I've been back 'ome at the shop for about a month. Wanna know why I haven't sought you or Benzo out sooner?"

"No but I'm certain you'll tell me." he dryly replied.

"Because first I wasn't sure if ya were even alive. But then, it was because this. Because I think you're still mad at me for everythin'. Because I was afraid you'd still shut me out when I just want to try 'n repair what friendship we had."

"Then why you here at all? Go back to your cushy high life. Go back to those clubs where all ya are to 'em is a pretty plaything they can toss out when they get bored with ya!" Vander bitterly retorted, refusing to look at her now.

"...I can't." she grumbled, feeling the liqour going to her head. She remembered this conversation; it was one they'd squabbled over quite a few times. He had always felt her career choice of lounge and jazz club singer was one that would only lead to her downfall, somehow. Well, he'd been right.

He gave a sarcastic snort, "Ah, done with ya already are they? I warned ya. We all did..." again he downed his glass, but instead of reflling he snatched up the bottle itself, taking a long swallow before meeting her wavering hazel eyes again, "Wanna know what I'm really still fumin' about?"

Rosemary, fueled now by spite, the hurt of probably losing another person she had loved and emboldened by the liqour, threw his words back at him, "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

He shot her a sour look, then a smirk that held no amusement, "What really pissed me, us, off then and still does now is how ya thought, even for a second, that ya had the slightest chance in hell of belongin' in their world. That ya thought they'd ever see ya as an equal, that ya cared so much about what they thought of ya that ya stopped carin' 'bout your real family as much. I knew, least I thought I knew, that ya were smarter'n that. Makin' good money is one thing, forgettin' those who always had your back is another-"

Something in her snapped.

"I can't go back because I have no place to go I was in jail for months Vander!"

Her furious, heartbroken shout echoed through the empty room, settling like the dust motes in the air into the wood and metal as her breath came in shudders and he gaped back at her, all bitter anger drained from his face with the color in it.

Standing, pacing, Rosemary swiped a hand across her face to clear the tears lest she trip over something and all the loss, heartache, indigation and injustice she'd suffered came pouring out, "I had just goten done with a show when I heard the bridge was under attack and I knew, I just knew. I didn't even think before I started runnin' toward it-I was so scared you'd all be killed-well the damned Enforcers saw and stopped me. Didn't even ask or tell me nothin' just threw me down and tied me up 'n next thing I knew I was being dragged to Stillwater..."

She paused, one hand over her mouth, "I could see the fires from the boat, hear the fightin'...but the more I screamed the more they hit me. Eventually I passed out 'n woke up in a cell. Took 'em days to even talk to me..." here she shoots Vander a sideways look, eyes burning with hot tears and bitterness, "You were right, okay? You were all right. Turns out they never trusted me and were keepin' tabs and a file on me the whole time I was up there. Watchin' every place I went and person I talked to so when they saw me headin' toward the bridge it was all the 'proof' they needed. Said it was in the best interest of the clubs I work for, after all, they had a lot of important high class clientele and had to make sure they would be safe you know? Had to make sure the dolled up gutter rat wouldn't turn around and bite 'em."

Vander hung his head, a burning stab of shame for how he'd lost his temper without finding out her side of things, "Rosie, I..."

"No Vander...ya don't get to call me that, not yet..." she murmured sadly and sat again, slightly more calm, grabbing the bottle he'd set down and helping herself to a generous amount, then with a long sigh meeting his gaze properly, "Took 'em months to realize I had nothin' to do with it and let me go. Barely got an apology. First thing I did was head for the little apartment I had; was gonna sell it and my stuff and come home...but turns out someone had already done that for me. Was marked abandoned property and sold on. I had nothin' 'cept the clothes on my back...so I made my way to my family's shop to try and pick up the pieces and make somethin' of my life with what was left of it..."

A long, heavy silence followed, neither quite sure what to say or where to go. Rosemary stared at the thick glass windows, the murky green light coming through making it look almost like they were underwater. Her tears had dried up, leaving only a weight in her gut; here was one more person she'd desperately missed and likely now lost.

Vander mindlessly tapped his fingers against the side of the table, stealing glances at her and wondering how he could make amends. He had thought she'd simply decided to stay on the 'right' side of the bridge after the uprising to disassociate herself for her career's sake. Even her family had assumed it from the times he'd spoken with them. But it turned out...

Suddenly, she exhaled sorrowfully and stood with her bag, turning to look at him coolly as she dug a few coins from their pouch and placed them upon the table, "Thanks for the drinks. I should head home before my family starts to worry."

His voice seemed stuck in his throat as she turned to leave, and he felt a flicker of panic, feeling that if she got out that door without him saying anything she'd be gone to him forever.

And he'd lost her for long enough already.

"Rosemary-" he abruptly said, standing so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. When she paused to glance back at him he drew a deep breath and continued, "I...I'm sorry. I assumed things I probably shouldn'tave...you've been through hell just like the rest of us..."

He waited to see how she'd react, and felt encouraged when her face softened just a bit. He coughed awkwardly and added, "Ya can come back anytime you'd like, if ya want..."

Rosemary broke into a faint but genuine smile, "I...would like that...when I have time, I think I will. You sure ya don't mind havin' a former beautiful gutter rat in 'ere?"

Some part of Vander's brain almost made him blurt out 'you've always been beautiful and still are, in rags or fancy dresses' but he stopped that thought in it's tracks to instead give a small huff of laughter, "This place could use some class...swing by when ya can."

Reaching the door, she turned one last time to look at him and seeing his hopeful smile was reminded of yet another thing that'd changed about him; somehow, he'd become even more handsome. She refused to linger too long on the thought though and with one final wave stepped out into the street again.

Vander flopped back into his chair, holding his head. He had not expected to ever see her again or for...all of that. He hoped she would indeed grace him with her company again, and perhaps they could start over...or-no. He dared not think about it. After some time lost in his thoughts he spoke up, "How long you four been listenin'?"

Outside, Rosemary stopped to collect her racing thoughts and settle her nerves. Vander, her dear friend, was alive and well...and a father and business owner. She still felt the residual burn of their argument, but it was well over shadowed now by the glimmer of hope of rekindling their friendship. His stupid handsome face crossed her conscious and she scolded herself.

"Get your ass home woman..." she grumbled, and set off into the misty, dark streets.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

HRH is my absolute fave!! I am blown away by the quality of writing 😍😍 I want Claire to just come clean despite what Jamie has said. She loves him, he loves her. There will obviously be backlash about the 'secret affair' but, come on!!!! Let them be happy. Please let them be happy!

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire| Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations | Part VII: Magnolias | Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle | Part XV: Cabin | Part XVI: Market | Part XVII: Stables | Part XVIII: Alarms | Part XIX: Visitor | Part XX: Cuffed |  Part XXI: A Woman’s Speech

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part XXII: The Harlot Queen

James Fraser, with hands cuffed behind his back, closed his eyes under the white cloth band covering the upper half of his face. No amount of repeated blinking had allowed him to take in his surroundings, despite the fact that he had been willing his corneas to just see since the fabric had been tied at the back of his head.

“Get into the truck,” a firm voice directed him, urging Jamie forward with what felt like a fistful of his shirt.

Jamie, who had been unaware of the existence of said truck and took for granted its existence on the representation of the voice’s owner, stepped up.  His foot swiped blindly through the air.  He stepped forward, this time underestimating the clearance into the truck and striking his leg on the doorframe. The contact reverberated through his shinbone like a ringing bell, ending with a jolt in his locked knee.  The fresh ache of it settled into his bones and bloomed an unseen purple into his flesh.

It wasn’t enough to take his mind off of what he was about to do.

A confession.  Written on thin, lined yellow paper (handwritten, the lies bleeding through to the backside). Rehearsed in front of the blurry, convex mirror pinned above his cracked porcelain jail sink (memorized until his words had the bland, unremarkable quality of a well-studied criminal).  A guilty plea with the understanding that he was committing himself to spending at least the next decade in prison for the theft of something the woman he loved had left on his bathroom sink before he became her lover.

The truck was stale – cigarettes (disgruntled jail escorts), nervous sweat (anxious arrestees transported to see magistrates who read fates from the crystal balls of their minds), mildew (neglect and apathy for vehicles meant to ferry prisoners about).

As Jamie situated his long limbs in the cramped backseat, his finger flickered in a test of the metal holding his wrists firmly in place. It was instinct to reach for the window, to let the breeze carry away the sickening tripartite smell of nicotine, body odor, and decay. Through the positional imposition of negative reinforcement, he had previously schooled basic human instinct to seek comfort in a war prison.  He had allowed the pain of raw wrists and a fileted back guide him.  Through that pain, he had learned how not to wipe at a sweating brow, not adjust a clothing seam resting uncomfortably askance, not to lift a hand to absorb a rib-cracking cough.  Dismally, he concluded that it would perhaps be best not to adapt himself to avoid the minor, inconvenient discomforts. It gave him something to focus on other than losing her, other than the words he’d spat at her with far more fury than he had intended.

Leave then.

Simply put, he had been the architect of his own destruction.

After ten minutes, Jamie asked where he was being taken.

He was informed by a rather gruff voice that it was none of his god-damned business.  Inhaling, he tasted the driver’s second-hand smoke and suddenly felt nauseated.

He had lost the plot of their travels a few minutes in when the left-right-right-left-roundabout-another-left-roundabout pattern of their journey became too much to track.

He was certain of one thing only: the truck was not headed to a courthouse or the palace.

Roughly fifteen minutes in, they accelerated far beyond what was reasonable for Edinburgh’s indiscriminately winding streets.

Claire.

Wherever the truck was headed, the distance between them was growing and growing. His sight stripped away by the blindfold, he indulged a bit in the darkest part of him.  The part that knew for certain that he would never see her again.  Never turn that dark hair over his fingers again (a burn ruffling over the stones).  Never seal his mouth to any part of her again (the brief, sour kiss of dueling morning breath tongues before she demanded they brush their teeth; the soft mound of her breast quivering with laughter; the needy space between her thighs made remote by a coarse thicket of curls).  Never take her face in his hands, apologize fiercely, and explain that he had never meant it (the venom of telling her to leave him).  Never take her to bed and love her again.

“Where are ye takin’ me?” Jamie repeated.

“Somewhere far better than ye deserve.”

Jamie’s head tilted back and rested on the seat.  He opened his eyes behind the blindfold and only saw white, the stubbed auburn of his eyelashes.

When he closed his eyes, he had a vague hope that he would just die.

After a seemingly interminable amount of time, it was the honeyed aroma of rhododendron, the sway of the truck around familiar curves in the road, and the barking of a dog that brought him into a sitting position.

He knew precisely where they had stopped.

He fought against his handcuffs, tipped his head to his shoulder, urged the blindfold up over a single eye.

Jenny was on the front steps, her arm curled around Ian’s waist.

“What the fuck are ye doin’, man?” Jamie snapped, flinching when the handcuff on his left hand grated over his wrist.

“Following orders, man,” the driver spat, stopping the vehicle and getting out. Jamie watched as the man rounded the front of the truck, hocking a disgusting volume of cigarette-covered spit onto the pebbled drive. Opening the passenger door, he took Jamie roughly by the elbow and pulled him from the car.  “Ye dinna think that it was my choice to bring ye – a common thief – to this failing farm?”

The man struggled for the keys on his belt and quickly unlocked the handcuffs before glancing at the front steps.  Jamie followed the man’s glance.  Jenny had started to descend, but Ian had caught her by the shoulder and Jamie nodded tightly, stretching his neck as he brought his hands to the front of his body.

“Like I said… far better than ye deserve.”

He stood in place, holding his wrists at waist height and blinking in the daylight.  Even on a hazy gray Scottish summer afternoon, everything was bright. Too bright.  Like an amateur photographer had dipped a snapshot of his childhood home into chemical bath, over-exposed it, and blown the colors out to be too bright. The stone of his first home lined by too much light, the flowers Jenny planted along the front path almost cartoonish.

“Jen,” he croaked, taking a faltering step towards his sister, the ache of his bruised shin slipping into his knee joint, up his femur, into his groin, and settling in his stomach.  “I didna do it.”

Though he had a foot and at least seventy-five pounds of muscle on his older sister, he felt small when she wrapped her arms around him.

For the first time, he cried.  Great, wracking sobs pulsed up his body, his fingers sinking into his sister’s shoulders.  The same soft, soothing noises his sister had honed over years of loss – siblings, parents, her own child – comforted him then, rising from where he had mashed her face to his chest.

His throat lubricated by his own snot, and face damp with tears, he pulled back slightly, and said,  “I dinna ken what’s happenin’. I was going to say I took it, so she wouldn’t have to–”

“Ye need to come inside, brathair…” Jenny interrupted, running her thumbs over the slicked expanse of his cheekbones.

The television, a boxy small thing usually tucked into the front-hall closet on a rolling cart, was tuned low.  

In the sitting room, Jamie’s niece handed the pudgy, soft-limbed mass of baby Katherine to Jenny.  Freed of her younger sister, she wound her thin, summer-bronzed arms around Jamie’s waist. Though her words were tearful, he divined through her own snot and tears that she felt guilty.  He smoothed down her hair, focusing on the newsman talking, unable to summon the grace to say that it was going to be alright.  

As the baby started to fuss, Jenny patted the couch next to her.  “Sit.  She’s going to give a speech.”

His heart dropped as he realized why he was at Lallybroch.

He was far enough away that he could not even hope to stop her.  No amount of carelessness or speed would get him back to the city to stop this – to stop her, to hold her upper arms and shake his head, to tell her that she didn’t have to do this for him. That she didn’t have to stand alone in the sun of scrutiny for him. That she didn’t need to add to the media’s disdain for her – the Accidental Queen, the Party Queen, and now the Harlot Queen (the stomach-curdling headline followed by a question mark had been accompanied by a portrait of Claire and a snapshot of her with Randall).  He wrapped his fingers around the couch cushion to stop them from trembling.

He had waited for what felt like his entire life for her.

The one.

“What is she going to do?” Jenny asked.

He glanced sideways, shook his head.  “I dinna ken.”

In his heart, he knew.  He knew because he had already heard one version of this speech.

One where his rare woman had declared that she was searching for something rare.

A speech where she declared that she would not deny herself.

That she would not uselessly bind herself to notions of propriety and behavior set forth by others.  Other lovers, politicians, royalists.

Claire would not settle, and she would not be tamed.  She had said it before.

“She wouldna have ye brought out here just to tell the world that ye were guilty.”

“No,” Jamie agreed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Do ye think that she’ll abdicate?” Jenny asked.

“I dinna ken,” he repeated.

It was a lie.

[thespearandthecrown]

A Whiskey for Her

AN- Hey fam! So this July/August was insane. Now that September is on its way, I will have a bit of free time to work more on some writing. I am about another 5 or 4 more chapters left for The Sheriff and The Soldier, which, I'm super happy to see nearly completed. Dakota and the gang have been at the back of my mind for the past two months demanding that I finish their story. I've also released the first two chapters of my original story about my gay werewolf dweebs on fiction press. If you wanna check that out, as well as my ko-fi page, take a look at my ‘WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME’ tab on this Tumblr. Without any further adieu, have something that has been a warm-up piece I've been working on for the past three years now. I've rewritten this thing like 800 times. Thanks for your support, I hope this fic finds all of you well <3

Vi hated the 'underground' Piltovian technopunk scene. The venues are usually filled with too drunk mid-forty housewives, whose cheating husbands let them loose for a 'girls night out'. It wasn't like the legendary raves of Zaun, where laws or claims of power meant nothing. Where people could get lost in the flashing lights and pounding beats.

That was where the real fun laid.

The number of people she would bring home after a night of dancing most likely broke some kind of record.

But here?

Void's above the only thing she could pick up is some blubbering wife who wants to get back at her husband.

Too much vengeance and drama for one night.

This, however, wasn't the reason why Vi was in such a despicable joint. The 'boys' from the cop shop wanted to get together and tear up the town. They invited Vi, promising good drinks and plenty of women. Rather than declining, she thought that after the last few busts she deserved a night out.

Sadly, this blew ass.

Her coworkers were long gone, either too drunk to stand or too busy dealing with housewives.

Giving up, she took a great sigh and left the establishment feeling fairly bummed out and in the need of some kind of greasy substance.

She didn't walk far before she came up to her favourite pub, the Brass Gauntlet. Humming to herself, she agreed, instantly craving a Bilgewatian sea bass butty, a specialty that this pub was quite famous for.

The reason why she enjoyed this place came in three parts.

One, the food and drink were good, cheap and usually what she needed. Two, it was a wooden establishment with polished down seats and a lovely smiling old bartender that easily held the feeling of welcome warmth. Three, it was quiet and close to work. Sure the room could be filled with patrons, but it could never get any louder then whispered conversations. Usually, after a long day of hearing the sheriff bitch and complain about Vi's work methods, she would come here to destress and breathe.

Tonight, the basement pub had a small handful of patrons. A group clustered together at the far end chatted quietly amongst themselves, sipping their drinks as they nodded along with whoever was telling a story.

At the other end was a sole individual, huddled in their own booth.

Vi practically fainted as she recognized the individual. Not a day in her life did she ever think Sheriff Caitlyn Deramore would ever step foot in a pub of her own free volition.

With curiosity and a few pints fueling her forward, she made her way to the sheriff's table.

The sheriff had her back to the entrance. Her long raven black hair was tied up into a messy bun, revealing her pale swan-like neck. Her purple petticoat had been removed leaving her in her white blouse that seemed a bit to loose around the neck.

"What is a girl like you, doin' in a place like this?" Vi grinned as she stood at the head of the table to face the sheriff head-on.

Caitlyn quirked an eyebrow at the pinkette. Her brilliant ice blue eyes were accentuated by heavy shadows and wire-rimmed reading glasses. As to what Vi expected, her white blouse had two buttons undone, revealing a bit more of her neck and her collarbone. Vi returned the expression with her own raised eyebrow as she witnessed the rolled-up sleeves revealing the tense forearms of the Sheriff. Her right hand twirled the tumbler of whiskey; the single ice cube gently tapping the glass in the movement.

"Doing your paperwork," Caitlyn replied coldly.

Vi's eyes lowered to the small stack of yellowed sheets. In Caitlyn's left hand was a decorative ink pen.

"Ah, shit, sorry Sheriff. What did I do wrong? I honestly thought I got it right this time. I even got Albert to help me out on this one." Vi admitted sheepishly.

The Sheriff gave a great sigh before she took a swig of her whiskey. "It's alright deputy."

"Why here though? Why not at your office?" Vi asked perplexed.

"Because the bullpen is insanely full with that shimmer bust and the captives will not cease their incessant caterwauling of proclaimed innocence." She muttered lowly, taking another long swig of the amber liquid. "It is very quiet here and the whiskey selection is not terrible."

"Mind if I sit wit' ya? Maybe show me where I went wrong?" Vi asked, both hoping the sheriff will say no and yes.

Caitlyn mulled the thought over, watching the liquid in her glass swirl. With a sigh, she nodded toward the bar. "Get me another round then, deputy."

Vi chuckled. "Not a problem. What's your poison, boss?"

"The dragon's breath whiskey from Freljord. One rock, please." Caitlyn replied as she continued the work set before her.

"Coming right up." Vi turned on her heels With mixed emotions curdling her gut.

She wasn't afraid of Caitlyn, nor hated her. She was just so…uptight. Too serious and work-focused. Usually, the day shift crew would go together to the leather boot, a Piltovian warden stomping ground, with expensive prices to accommodate the large salaries of the trained officers. The shift would all go together, have a pint and unwind before going home.

Every time, Caitlyn would decline.

Out of the six months that Vi had been working with her, she didn't see her cut loose once.

And within a weeks time, she should be working more frequently with Caitlyn once she graduated the progressive and special program they implemented to make sure she was ready for the job.

Frankly, Vi was both dreading and too excited to work with this intense woman.

Maybe this could be the kick starter to get to know each other better.

For Vi to properly understand the sheriff and her insane work ethic.

With a quick nod of thanks and an exchange of coins between her and the bartender, Vi walked back with a pint and a whiskey tumbler.

"You have tomorrow off, right?" Vi asked as she passed the glass to Caitlyn's slim dexterous hands.

"Thank you," Caitlyn nodded. "Yes, I have every Sunday off."

Vi seated herself on the bench opposite of Caitlyn. The pinkette observed the tight-lipped exchange as she flipped to the back of a page and scratched on another. Her jawline became tight with annoyance.

"You seem a bit ticked that you have it off." Vi deduced, taking a mouthful of beer.

Caitlyn snorted. "I am indeed 'ticked'. Albert handles the scheduling and insists that I have that day off, rather than allowing me to work on cases."

"Albert is a good guy. Not to pry or anything but do you ever feel like you could amount to him since you're his replacement?"

The sheriff sighed heavily. "Albert was a great Sheriff. The community loved him, the politicians couldn't get enough of him. However, as much as I hate to say it, I do the job better. He has been a great mentor and has really taught me some valuable lessons with the social aspects of being sheriff. He has trained and trusted me to do better than him, and I'm glad I can fulfill his wishes. I just wish the man would properly retire."

"Well obviously his paperwork reviewing could do better." Vi joked gently.

"In all honesty, you didn't do anything wrong. Your handwriting is just despicable and I need to give the mayor this report so he can show our hard work to the council."

"How rude, Sheriff. It's not like I learned how to properly write like six months ago." Vi grinned teasingly. Then a thought crossed her mind, making her eyebrows furrow in concentration. "Why does the council need to see my report?"

"They are putting a lot of resources to use for you. They want proof that you are actually capable of being my partner, let alone a legal protector of the city." Caitlyn explained.

"So you're helping me look good?"

"In those terms, yes. As much as you seem like you are capable of turning in criminals, they want to see you be an officer, a deputy. Not some loose canon vigilante with no respect for the rules. Sure you may be completing that program, but they want to see your training applied to the real world."

Vi snorted loudly, causing the table on the other side of the bar to take a quick peek behind them. "But that's what I am, Sheriff. I'm not here to slap the wrist of some city hooligans. I'm here to stop the real bad guys. The ones who'd take kids, sell the harmful chemical shit, try to bring terror to good innocent people."

Caitlyn observed as Vi balled her fist.

"I'm glad you have faith in me. I'm glad that you are willing to go the extra mile to help me out. But let them see me for what I want to be." She took a long sip of her brew, then placed it down onto the heavy oak table. She tightened her jaw as she focused on her scarred hands holding the pint glass.

In this, Caitlyn observed the brawler before her. She was in her cracked leather jacket, brooding in the raised lapels. She had freshly shaved the side of her head, showing the dark pink roots. The scent of citrus and mint hit her nose as Vi straightened herself to sit upright. Her violet eyes bore into Caitlyn. They blazed with a determination that the sheriff had started to become quite accustomed to.

She had witnessed this determination a multitude of times in the past six months of Vi working with the precinct. It was normally accompanied by loud snarled curses and frustrated yells. It was smashing through a wall with a broken collarbone, whilst dodging bullets and protecting the hostage in her grasp. It was spitting in the face of political terrorists who threatened to blow the city to smithereens. It was her staying up all night to help prove the innocence of a street orphan who was facing charges of murder. It was her facing these almost impossible tasks with a crooked grin and a crack of her knuckles.

Caitlyn respected this determination, but she only wished the pinkette would give her on-the-fly plans a bit more thought.

"Why do you do this?" The brawler asked. Her voice was stern and serious. "Why put all of this effort when, no matter what, they're going to throw me out."

The sheriff takes a moment to mull over her statement. The tumbler clinks as she lets the ice and whiskey mingle more and more with each twist of her wrist. "Frankly, I am not quite sure, myself." She admits. "Maybe it’s because I know they can sense the potential in you. I understand your skepticism though; the old guard of the city council can be quite misogynistic. It took them a while to have full faith in me."

Their eyes meet for a moment. Caitlyn can see the gears slowly turn in Vi's head and it made the raven-haired woman curious.

Vi regards the sheriff in a new way. It isn't the usual brush off 'we'll deal with the situation as we go' kind of look that the brawler usually gives her.

Caitlyn can't help the small smile that tugs at her lips. "Be careful, Vi. If I didn't know any better it looks like I just earned some respect from you."

That troublesome smirk that drives the sheriff nearly up the wall, spreads through the pinkette's lips easily. "You should slow down on those Dragon Breaths, Sheriff. I think they're causing you to hallucinate."

They share a small chuckle between themselves.

"I think I like this side of you, Sheriff." Vi drawls as she finishes her drink. She signals to the bartender for another round, and the old smiling man nods.

Caitlyn raises an eyebrow, trying her best to not smile. "Don't get too used to it."

[selfship-uncharted]

The Fugitive part IV - Just for a moment

part I - part II - part III - part IV - part V - part VI - 

part VII - part VIII - part IX - part X -  part XI - part XII  - part XIII - part XIV

A/N: Thank you so much again for your support and feedback! I hope you will enjoy this chapter too! A/N2: English is not my first language. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader Warnings: a little of violence, come on, it’s the wild west Words: 2,143 Tags: @asiramhera , @missdictatorme, @zoilalove213

"I wonder, what are you writing every night in that notebook of yours?" "None of yar business, kid" "I noticed you sketch a lot." You continue ignoring his rudeness. "I would love to see them." He didn't answer. "I actually sketch a lot too. When I was back home, of course. It helped me to get away from my father." "Ya could use it to get away from yar husband. And now shut up." He added with a lack of sensitivity. You shut up, not because he ordered you but because he made you remember your fate when you will get home. "Do... Do you mind if I walk?" You asked him troubled. You didn't wait for his answer that you jumped down from the horse, although it was still walking. You fell on your hands but you didn't care. Actually now, you didn't care about anything. You were near Saint-Denis, you knew that maybe tomorrow you would be there, at your father's house with that fiancé of yours. And who knows how long before you married him. A shiver ran down your spine just thinking of the wedding night. That greasy man naked over you, touching you with those big dirty hands, kissing you with that disgusting mouth... And to say he would be your first man makes you sick. You held yourself strongly trying to erase those pictures of you and him. "Hey, what's the matter?" Arthur asked worriedly. "Could you for once call me by my name? It's always 'hey' 'you' 'kid' 'girl', I have a name you know?" You protested frustrated. Arthur was taken aback. It was the first time you talk to him like that. "Did I say anything wrong... hum... Y/N?" He paused before saying your name like it was difficult for him to say it or something. No, it wasn't him that bothered you or maybe yes, since he was the one to take you back. It was all, how helpless you were in front of your future, being unable to change it. "I'm sorry, Y/N... I didn't mean to offend you..." He tried to apologize, he made the horse go slowly by your side. "Come on, get on the horse, ki... Y/N." "It's not you, ok?" You turned at him dismissing him. "I- I just need to think..." Arthur stopped the horse giving you some distance, but he followed you close with his hand near the lasso in case he needed it. "Did ya end thinkin'?" Asked you Arthur after a while of walking behind you. "We should continue our way, or we will never reach Saint-Denis." "As a matter of fact the only one of the two of us who wants to go to Saint-Denis it's you." You stated. "So, if you want to continue your journey alone you are welcome." "Ha, ha, very funny." He answered with an attempt of being sarcastic. "Now, mount." He spurred the horse to make it walk in front of you and stopped there looking you fiercely. "Did you heard that?" You asked him stopping suddenly. Arthur shook his head but kept staring at you with suspicion. "I heard someone... Calling for help." You added. In the distance someone was yelling from pain, you followed the voice into the forest. While you ran into the forest you heard two shots that startled you. "Y/N, wait!" Arthur shouted concerned about the gunfire. Arthur followed you with the horse until you found a man with his leg trapped in a steel-jaw holding a gun. "Oh, thank goodness you are here! The wolves came from nowhere and I got trapped while escaping from them!" Said the man when he saw you. "Please, help me?" You got close to him and look at his wound, it was bad, really bad. "Step aside, kid." Ordered you, Arthur. "I mean- Y/N..." Added clearing his throat. You chuckled. "You know, it's not like you have to overuse my name now." He looked at you confused. "I'm going to fetch the horse." You announced him. "Just take care of his leg." Arthur looked at the hunter while he took the steel-jaw. "Women..." He sighed opening the trap. When he did the hunter cried in pain but also of relief. He was grateful to be released. You were trying to get the hunter's horse but every time you went near it stepped away. "Seriously, will you stay still, please??" You begged the animal. A shadow moved on your right while you were concentrated with the horse. "Y/N!" Shouted Arthur warning you but it was too late you didn't have time to react a wolf appeared from nowhere jumped at you making you fall on the ground. You tried to get it out of you but it was too strong. You felt the breath of the animal on your face. You fought him as you could. Trying to protect your face and neck with your arms. You screamed of pain when you felt its claws piercing your skin. Arthur drew his gun and shot killing it, making it fell dead on you. Other wolves appeared attacking Arthur and the hunter but Arthur shot at them fast enough before it could happen anything. You removed that dead weight of you covered in a mixture of its blood and yours. "Ya alright?" Asked you Arthur concerned checking your face. "Yes... I think..." You were trembling, that sudden attack frightened you, those animals were ferocious, you never saw one that close. "Shit..." You looked at your right arm full of blood, your hand was trembling being unable to realize how bad you were injured. "Did it bite you?" Asked Arthur worried taking your arm examining the wound. "I don't know..." your voice trembled. Arthur whistled to his horse to make it come, he took the canteen from it and poured the water on your arm cleaning the wound to see how bad it was. You closed your eyes in pain feeling the stinging. "It ain't no good, kid. You might need some stitches." He took his scarf from his neck and bandaged your arm. "I'll take you to a doctor." You nodded with a worried look. "You will survive." Arthur calmed you. He helped you to get on your feet and carried you on his horse. "Wait, here." He ordered. Arthur went to look for the hunter's horse. He slowly got near the horse shushing him, saying nice words to him until he gained its trust to take the reins. Arthur went near the hunter and helped him to get on his horse. "Is it bad?" he asked concerned about your injury. "I dunno know..." answered Arthur. "I'll take her to a doctor to check it on." "I'm so sorry, it was all my fault." he apologized. "It's okay man." Arthur patted the hunter horse. "Anyway, thank you so much for saving me. I hope it won't be nothing." The hunter turned to look at you and raise your hand to say goodbye. You smiled at him and nodded. The hunter spurred his horse and went away. Arthur came back to you, you were holding your arm in pain a cold sweat running down your forehead. "Ya good?" He asked you sitting behind you. "It hurts a little..." you whispered. "And it keeps bleeding..." The scarf that Arthur used it was soaked red from your blood. Arthur spurred his horse and went to look for the nearest town. On the way you were tilting side to side being unable to stand for yourself, your wound kept bleeding and you started to feel dizzy. "Hey! Stay with me, kid!" Arthur shook your shoulder to wake you up. "It's all right, we are nearly there..." Afraid that you might fall from the horse he brought you to him to lean on his chest and secure you with circling his arm on your waist. "It's okay..." you weakly whispered. "it's nothing..." "That's right, Y/N. Talk to me." he insisted. "Ya always 've many things to say, tell me about all of them, don't fall asleep." "I don't want to talk now... I'm sleepy... in any way... you don't even care...." "No, don't, don't fall asleep! Y/N!" You slowly opened your eyes not being able to recognize the wooden ceiling over you. You gradually sat down on a bed you weren't familiar at all. When you moved, your arm ached. It was properly bandaged this time and no trace of blood but your hand was numb when you close it the wound ached. The sleeve from your shirt was completely ripped, you guessed it was made to heal your wound easily. But where were you? The strong snore made you turned your face and see Arthur sitting on a chair beside your bed sleeping deeply with his hat covering his face. The door opened and an old man entered the room, he looked surprised o see you. "So, you are awake." He said. "I'm Dr. Thomas Dawson." You timidly nodded to him presenting yourself. He took a stool and sat in front of you. "Let me take a look on your wound." You gave him your arm and he removed the bandage revealing three scratches with stitches in your arm. The view shocked you. "It looks okay." said the doctor. "In a week you will be able to remove the stitches. I will give you an ointment to avoid having any scar. It would be a pity in a young lady those horrible scars." You bent your head being called a lady troubled you. You turned to Arthur who was still sleeping. "He has spent the night looking for you." Explained de doctor. "He was quite worried. The poor fellow. He brings you here in his arms, you were unconscious, you lost a lot of blood. Thankfully the wound wasn't infected." He got up. "You better take a rest too." And left you the both of you alone in the room. Arthur was still sleeping deeply if it was true he spent the night looking for you he might be exhausted, so you let him sleep a little more. Your eyes roamed to him to his bag where his notebook slightly stuck out from the bag. Very tempting. You could just take a look or two, if he didn't know it he wouldn't care. Not making any sound you got near him ready to grab it, but Arthur started moving waking up so you sat down on your bed pretending nothing happened. He lifted his hat from his eyes and stretched his muscles. He scrubbed his eyes and then looked at you. "Ya awake?" he asked. "How ya doin'?" "I'm fine," you answered gulping. Arthur looked at your arm, you showed it to him. "I know a fella who got ones too," he said referring to your scratches. "But it was in his face, made him uglier." He smirked. He rested in silence for a second but not having any reaction from you he got up. "Was that a joke?" you tilt your head to look at him with a naughty smile. Arthur didn't answer, he put his hat corretly aparently embarrased and dismissing you he added: "Let's go find you a shirt and let's go from this town." Once you get your new shirt you went to the stables where Arthur was waiting for you to continue your journey. Arthur motioned you to get on the horse. "Arthur..." you started. He looked at you not really interested. "Hum... thank you." you let out. Now he looked at your curious. "I... the doctor said you took care of me all night." "It ain't nothing, ki... Y/N." he said looking at his horse holding its saddle, somehow he looked embarrassed. You took his hand from the saddle to make him look at you. "I really mean it." you insisted. "Also, I... I didn't want to yell at you the other day... it wasn't fair. I was angry but it wasn't your fault." Arthur stared at you and bring the hand you were holding to your cheek. "It's okay, girl." He appeased you. "Your hands are rough." you smiled. "Sorry." He apologized but he doesn't sound like he really meant it. "Yar skin is too delicate." You chuckled. "I actually like them." You smiled at him. "Ya'r weird, girl." He complained "Maybe..." You come close to him and rested your head on his chest. "What ya doin'?" Arthur asked even more confused. "Just... For a moment... Please..." You begged him closing your eyes. Arthur sighed, somehow he felt you were not okay, that you were worried. He guessed it was because he was bringing you back home and you didn't want. But he couldn't do anything about it, it was his job to take you back, nothing more. He couldn’t get involved with you in any way.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

when he smiled [chapter three]

Summary: Louis is horribly wounded after the defeat of the raiders.

Preview: “So, we’re just gonna give up and go?”

“I'm not saying that.” Violet rubbed at her neck. “I just... what else can we do?”

“We can stay and fight-”

“With what? Omar’s been shot, Louis is fucking useless, Mitch can only make so many bombs with what he has, and the rest of us are going to need way more time to recover from last night!“ Violet explained. 

“Vi, do you understand what you’re suggesting?”

“I do, but I’m not, like, saying it’s the right thing to do or what everyone’s gonna agree with, I’m just saying that it’s an option. I mean...” Violet scowled, squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head. “... if worst comes to worse.”

Warnings: Louis’ sad, beat up face. :( Also, awkward Aasim is awkward, sorry.

Author’s Note:  So... this blog just hit 113 followers? I can’t even believe that! :D So, here's another chapter to celebrate! Also, thank you to everyone who has read the previous parts! I’ve also uploaded this story onto AO3 for those who prefer to read it that way! 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 [coming soon]

AJ yanked on her sleeve, pulling her up off the bench she sat upon. “Clem, c’mon!” Without another thought, AJ ran over to meet Tenn.

Usually, she would’ve called after him, scolding him for his impatience, but it seemed as though her voice had become wrapped up in a thick, cold blanket of anxiety.  It traveled through her arms, weakening them until they trembled.

Somethings knocked against the carved stick in her hand. She glanced back at Mitch.

“You goin’?” he asked.

She nodded slowly. With tightened fists and closed, Clem took a deep breath to try and prevent the trembling from becoming obvious.

---

Mitch watched her walk away. Her posture wasn’t nearly as confident as it was before.

He absently flipped his knife over his thumb.

It fell to the ground.

Fuck.

Rosie’s bark caught his attention. He watched her jump up onto the couch with Omar, dropping the ball in his hand and resting her head on his knee.

Picking up his knife, Mitch dragged himself over to the couch, plopping down on the opposite side.

Omar’s brows knitted in discomfort as he shifted, hand stilling on Rosie’s side.

“You gonna live?” asked Mitch.

“Planning on it,” Omar smirked. “You?”

Mitch rubbed at his sore, bruised knuckles. “Probably.”

“Heh, don’t sound so confident- ugh,” Omar hissed. He reached under his knee and readjusted his leg to a more comfortable position. He grumbled, “Two seconds into the fight and I got knocked out... what a joke.”

Mitch picked at a scab, grimacing at the fresh blood seeping through. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the face he wailed on in his fury, but nothing came to mind. The only thing he remembered was Tenn begging him to stop. Even to their enemies, the fuckers who kidnapped Sophie and Minnie, his goddamn sisters, the kid was soft.

Not a good thing.

Then again...

A droplet of blood fell to the dirt.

...who was he to say...?

Omar leaned back, cranking his neck to stare up at the sky. “You shouldn’t be messing with your hand,” he said. “Looks pretty fucked.”

He grimaced. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t over do it. But, dragging the bodies out one at a time and throwing them into a pile did a number on the already painful digits.

Carving with his knife hadn’t helped, either.

But...

“It is,” Mitch agreed. “Hurts like hell.”

“Hate to be the guy on the receiving end.”

Mitch scoffed.

“Did Ruby look at it?” Omar motioned to his hand.

“She’s got better things to do. Y’know,” Mitch scowled, “like making sure Louis doesn’t die.”

“...Right.” Omar closed his eyes. “...Right.”

Mitch grabbed the ball and threw it, ignoring the aches. Rosie’s head perked up, but she made no move to chase it. He shook his head, chewing on his lip.

“We needed you out there.”

“I know,” Omar frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Mitch said nothing.

Omar didn’t know what stung worse; the bullet hole in his leg or the guilt gnawing along the edges of his mind and heart.

---

By the time Clem reached the stairs, AJ was gone, no doubt sprinting towards the dorms and barging into Louis’ room. That would earn AJ an earful about acting like an animal, Clem was sure.

Soon, she found herself hesitating in front of a quiet door. There’s creaking of the wooden floors, then a small whisper from AJ, “Louis...?”

Clem brought her hand up to push on the door.

Her gaze found his face, and it was like someone had grabbed hold of her throat. There wasn’t enough oxygen.

On a single, battered mattress, he lay, visibly trembling. His skin, kissed with bruises, lacked its usual glow. A fresh bandage sat upon his brow and along his temple, only a small amount of blood seeping through. His lip was busted, the gash moving along his chin. His right eye’s nearly swollen over. His shoulder’s wrapped up, but still, blooming welts flower along his collarbone and chest. His wrist had a rope tied around it which linked him to the beaten down nightstand.

A precaution...

Fuck.

Ruby’s there, adjusting the heavy blanket. She placed a hand softly over his damp forehead and let out a little sigh.

And AJ’s slightly hunched over, trying to peer over Ruby’s shoulder without getting too close. His hands were pressed together anxiously.  

When Ruby stepped back and faced them, it’s with a small, hopeful smile. “His fever’s gone down a lot.”

Clem didn’t mean to ignore her. She rushed to Louis’ side, kneeled down and pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. It’s warm, sticky with sweat. Up close, she could see his expression twitching in pain, as though he were trapped in a nightmare. Blotches of deep purple swelled on his skin.

“Oh, God...” she whispered.

His broken lips part with a most, stuttering gasp, followed by a whimper. His head turned slightly into her touch. She had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from breaking.

She felt AJ lean against her.

“He’s gonna live, right, Ruby?” AJ asked eagerly.

“We...we’re not quite outta the woods yet, hon,” Ruby told him. “Just to be safe, we’re keepin’ a close eye on him. But, if he keeps fightin’ then I’m sure everything’s gonna be fine. He’s doin’ way better than he was last night, that’s for sure.”

Even without looking at her Clem could sense just how exhausted Ruby was.

AJ grabbed Louis’ loosely bound hand in both of his.

“Clem?” Ruby’s hand rests lightly on her shoulder.

She managed to turn away and gaze up at her, who motioned for the door.

Clem hesitated. She glanced down at where AJ and Louis’ hands connected before she stood.

Ruby leaned against the face of the door and rubbed at her bloodshot eyes.

“Ruby? Are you okay?” asked Clem.

Ruby nods. “Yeah, I just...” she lowers her voice, “I’ve never had to patch up somethin’ that bad before. Honestly, it’s a miracle he’s breathin.’ I can’t believe it. For a minute there, I thought…” She straightened herself out. “Things... were lookin’ real scary, at first. He lost a lotta blood, and by the time I was done stitchin’ him up, he curled over and just...” Ruby made a motion with her hands, and Clem got the idea. “I sent Aasim to clean himself up.”

“Is he okay? I’m sure that wasn’t… fun.”

“’Bout made him sick, too, poor guy.” Ruby sighed. “He’s a huge help. Wouldn’t have been able to do it myself.  I just didn’t want everyone in here crowding around. I’m… sorry about that, by the way.”

“I understand completely.” Clem bit her lip. “…Has he said anything? Like, has he really woken up at all?”

Ruby shook her head. “Not a word. He was in and out for a while after I sent Aasim away. Vi tried talkin’ to him, told him she had a nice, ripe cantaloupe for him, but he just… stared into nothing before dozin’ off again. I imagine with all the pain he’s in and all those hits to the head, he might not be fully aware of anything for a while.”

Clem glanced down at the floor between them, slowly sucking in a deep breath to calm herself.

“Clem?”

She met Ruby’s eyes, her heart swelling.

“Ruby, I... I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You are so amazing...” She couldn’t help herself. Clem threw her arms around Ruby’s shoulders and held her tight.

“Oh, hon...” Ruby returned the hug, patting Clem’s back.

“Thank you...” Clem mumbled into Ruby’s shoulder.  “Thank you...”

“You don’t hafta thank me, Clem.” Ruby pulled back and offered a kind smile which Clem returned with her own grateful one.

“You saved him. You and Aasim, I…” Clem peered back at Louis and AJ. “You should go rest,” Clem said. “We’ll stay here with him.”

“I could use a little shut-eye,” Ruby admitted. She pointed to the nightstand. “There’s some water and a rag if he starts sweatin’ too much, or gets too hot. There’s more bandages and alcohol, too, if ya need. I won’t be far, just in the next room. Holler if anything happens, alright?”

“Of course.”

Ruby gave Louis one last concerned look before leaving.

Clem turned to see AJ, oddly enough, squeezing his hands around Louis’ wrist, moving the rope up and down, and rubbing at his forearm. “Keep fightin,’” he mumbled. “Just like Ruby said.” He noticed her staring at him with a raised, questioning brow.

AJ looked away, sheepish. “I want him to know we’re here. That way, he won’t be scared to wake up.”

A small, shuddering breath escaped her. Clem moved to the mattress, setting herself down beside it and pulling AJ closer to her.

“Me and Clem are here,” said AJ. He fumbled with each of Louis’ fingers, careful not to agitate a cut sliced in his pinky. “We’re gonna watch over you.” AJ looked up at her expectantly.

“Yeah.” Her voice was small, cracked. “Louis, we’re here.”

Clem reached and pressed a hand carefully over his chest. She stilled, waiting, and soon she felt a beating against her palm from under the blanket. A heavy sigh trembled through him. She could see goosebumps forming along his one bare shoulder. AJ let go of his hand, tucking it under the blanket and pulling it up closer to Louis’ chin.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” AJ spoke. “I was just scared that man would come back to hurt us. I-I didn’t mean to get grabbed. I’m sorry.” AJ rested his head against Louis’ covered arm. “When you wake up, I’m gonna make it up to you. I promise.”

AJ then grabbed something off the nightstand, and said, “Tenn left these for me.” He lifted the pale purple box of colors and a pad of paper. “Said I should make Louis a card to get better.”

Clem grinned. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“Here,” he tore off a piece of paper and handed it to her. “You, too.”

AJ got to work, inspecting and testing out every color he picked up to make sure it was the perfect shade. Clem, with her blank paper in hand, glanced around the room.

It was... very Louis.

It made her smile.

Of course, if she were being completely honest she was hoping the first time she entered this room the circumstances would be different. 

The walls were covered in musical posters, some from bands she had and hadn’t heard of, as well as some that clearly belonged in the music room. Above the mattress were a series of drawings, most done by Tenn and a few done by Sophie. Clem noticed one in particular of a cantaloupe, and when she squinted, she saw that it was actually a drawing of Louis as a cantaloupe, signed by Tenn himself. Another was a portrait, one much more detailed of a younger him, signed by Sophie.

There were books and clothes scattered around, and, oddly enough, a strange abundance of pillows. Including the large one his head rested upon, Clem counted a total of twenty-five different pillows of all sizes. Most of them were placed on the couch on the opposite side of the room.

Clem leaned over and set the carved stick Mitch gave her against it, admiring the handy work. She was sure Louis would love it. 

Over the arm of the couch rested Louis’ jacket, covered in fresh, dry blood. Pangs of guilt and anxiety shot through her limbs. She could see the tears where the knife cut through.

The paper suddenly felt very heavy in her hand.

---

Aasim was tying up his boots when Ruby walked in.

He straightened up, eyeing her. She leaned back against the door with a heavy sigh.

“Clem’s with him. Her and AJ are gonna stay awhile.” Ruby thought to herself a brief moment. “She seemed awful eager to see him.”

“Oh,” was all Aasim could think to say. He cleared his throat, fumbling with his sleeve. “Um, well… she’s just worried, I guess?” He mentally cursed himself. “I mean, we’re all worried.”

She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe… somethin’ just seemed different. I dunno. Guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah…” Aasim replied, lamely. He racked his brain for something else to say.  

Ruby didn’t seem to notice his internal struggle. She sat on the bed opposite of him and rested her chin in her hands. She crinkled her nose at the amount of grime covering the floors. This room was unoccupied. She couldn’t remember who used it before, but she knew it’s been a long, long time since then. But, as much as she’d prefer her own bed, this room was the closest to Louis’. She didn’t have time to come barrelling down the halls if Clem called for her.

She glanced up at Aasim, who, she noticed, had taken an interest in the strings of his hoodie. It was different, she noted, a burgundy with some odd logo on it. A nice, complementing shade on him.

“Did your shirt survive?” she asked.

“Huh?” Aasim’s head shot up. “Oh, uh, no. It’s pretty ruined. I’ll just throw it out.”

“Throw it out? That’s wasteful. All it needs is a good scrubbing,” Ruby frowned. “If it’s too much for you, I can wash it later.”

“No! You don’t have to! I can scrub it!” Aasim blurted. “That’s a thing... I can do. Yeah...” Before he could make an ass of himself anymore, he hopped to his feet, straightening out his hoodie. “You should rest. After everything, I can’t imagine how tired you must be.”

Ruby gazed out through the curtains of the window. “Tired enough to pass out while the sun’s still shinin’.”

Concern tugged at his features. “You gonna be okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just worried ‘bout everything... Louis, the raiders, the rest of us... God, what a fucking mess.”

“Seriously.” Aasim stood, stretching his arms over his head, trying to loosen himself up after a short rest. He headed for the door but was stopped by Ruby’s soft voice.

“Aasim?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you,” Ruby smiled, “'fer steppin’ up and helpin’ me. It’s not that I don’t trust the others, it’s just... I know that they can be difficult, and they wouldn’t always listen to me. I mean, can you imagine Mitch or Vi helpin’? You heard them bickerin’ out there. Anyway,” she glanced up at him, warmth spreading across her cheeks. “It... was very sweet. I don’t think I coulda done it without you.”

Thousands of words.

Thousands that wracked his brain.

Thousands of them that he could’ve picked.

Thousands of things he could’ve said to express what a real, kind, beautiful hero Ruby was.

And he went with, “...Cool.”

Fucking fuckity fuck-

Ruby’s sweet smile turned confused. He was sure that the panic was obvious on his face.

“I-I mean... uh... yeah...” He gave her a thumbs up.

And, suddenly, he wished he was dead.

His head fell forward and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He lazily pointed at her. “You need sleep. And I need to scrub that shirt. So, we’ll do that and... that’s that.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He was gone, cursing at himself all the way down the hallway, leaving Ruby alone, puzzled, wondering if she said something wrong.

---

A string of hushed profanities echoed in the hall. A little alarming, Clem thought, until she also heard Violet’s voice.

“Woah, Aasim, watch it.”

Violet entered with a soft knock, peeking in.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Vi,” AJ peered up from his drawing, giving Violet a small wave.

She entered the room, arms crossed and the worry clear on her face.

“I thought you were going to lie down?” Clem asked.

Violet shrugged half-heartedly. “I tried. Couldn’t do it. Too much to think about.”

Clem understood completely. She herself was running on about two hours of sleep, maybe. She scooted over and patted the spot beside her. As Violet sat, AJ proudly showed them his drawing.

“What do you think? Looks like him, huh?”

Clem grinned, taking the drawing and looking it over. It was certainly Louis, from the dreads on his head down to the boots on his feet. Clem praised him, “You definitely got his smile right.”

“He’ll love it,” Violet agreed. “You’re becoming quite the artist.”

“Like Tenn?”

“Like Tenn.”

AJ beamed. He went back to work. “I’m gonna add us, too, so that he’s not alone.”

“Great idea.”

A groan vibrated from the bed.

They froze.

Louis peered at them through slitted eyes, unfocused and watery. A tiny tear slowly slid down his cheek as they fluttered.

AJ’s hand was on his arm in an instant. “Louis?” he asked.

Clem quickly reached over and carefully grabbed the bowl of water and the towel. She rung out the towel and pressed it lightly over his less swollen cheek. He flinched away from the touch, grunting. 

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “It’s just me.”

His teeth ground together, locking his jaw as he turned his head away from her. She pressed the cool rag against his neck. 

Violet noticed the tremble in her wrist but said nothing.

“He looks mad,” AJ noted. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” replied Clem. “He’s probably having a nightmare.”

“Probably because he got stabbed,” said Violet. “Twice. I’d be pissed, too.”

AJ reached over and poked Louis’ cheek. 

“AJ!” Clem scolded. 

“What?”

“Don’t jab him like that.”

“I’m just trying to wake him up,” AJ frowned. 

“It’s not that easy, kiddo.” Clem sighed. She pulled the rag away and set it aside without moving away from the mattress. She brushed aside one of his dreads covering his eyes and lay the back of her hand against his jaw. The coolness of her fingers seemed to somewhat relax him. 

Violet watched curiously as Clem leaned back, eyes closed, a look of... 

Huh.

That’s familiar, she thought. 

But, now wasn’t the time to address that...

“Clementine,” Violet said suddenly with a serious look. “We... we need to talk about what happens next.”

“Right...” 

“We need a plan,” Violet started. “Everything’s just so fucked right now, and the others are talking. Mitch is already making more bombs, but he’s running out of materials. And Omar’s leg isn’t letting him move around all that much. He says that he can still cook, but that’s about it. Willy and Tenn are pretty shaken up, too. And Louis...” Violet cursed to herself,  “I mean, fuck, Clem, who knows where he is?”

AJ quirked a confused brow. “He’s right here.”

“What I mean-” Violet let out a frustrated sigh. “Who knows where he is in his brain? He’s barely conscious, and when he is awake, it’s like he’s not… really there. He doesn’t say anything, he can barely move, his eyes....” Violet paused.

“I know,” Clem said. “But, he’s alive. Louis is stronger than you think. He’ll wake up. We’re all just freaked out. But, we won, Vi. Lily and those assholes are dead.”

“Yeah...but, that doesn’t mean it’s over. Clem, there’s a whole community of them.” Violet argued. “If they come back for us, there’s not much we can do to protect him, or ourselves.   And...” Violet stopped, suddenly discouraged.

“What?”

“And...if we leave...”

“Leave?” asked Clem, astonished.

“Yes, leave,” Violet said, “If we have to leave, escape, whatever, how are we supposed to carry him?“

“Wait,” Clem completely turned towards her. “You want to leave?”

“There will be more of them, Clem. They’ll come looking for Lily and the others with more guns and more cages. And when they find out we killed them?” Violet scoffed.  “We were lucky the first time. The odds of us pulling it off again aren’t the same as they were before.”

“So, we’re just gonna give up and go?”

“I'm not saying that.” Violet rubbed at her neck. “I just... what else can we do?”

“We can stay and fight-”

“With what? Omar’s been shot, Louis is fucking useless, Mitch can only make so many bombs with what he has, and the rest of us are going to need way more time to recover from last night!“ Violet explained.  

“Vi, do you understand what you’re suggesting?”

“I do, but I’m not, like, saying it’s the right thing to do or what everyone’s gonna agree with, I’m just saying that it’s an option. I mean...” Violet scowled, squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head. “... if worst comes to worse.”

Clem was astonished. “Of all people, I never thought you’d even consider that. Vi, you were the one who stepped up, remember? To do what Marlon couldn’t? To protect us?”

“I know!” exclaimed Violet. “Believe me. I want to fight. I want to stay here. We have walls, we have shelter, we have hunting grounds! This is home! And...” Violet hesitated, finally meeting Clem’s eyes. “...You were right. We have no fucking idea what it’s like out there. We’ve been here since the beginning. I don’t know where we’d go or how we’d get there. The odds of us finding somewhere like Erikson…? It’s fucking terrifying. But, the only option is to fight, and I don’t know if that’ll be worth it again.” 

“We’re leaving?” AJ’s panicked eyes darted back and forth between them. He’d been so quiet that Clem actually forgot he was listening in.

“No,” Clem told him. “We’re not. At least, not if we don’t have to.”

“Fuck...” grumbled Violet. 

A knock on the door interrupted the tension. 

“Vi?” Tenn’s timid voice came from behind the door. “It’s your watch.”

Violet groaned. “I’ll be right there,” she called. When she looked at Clem, her face had gone from upset to guilty. 

“I’m... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” she shook her head. “We can talk later, okay?”

Clem’s expression softened. “Yeah.”

“I’ll send someone to take over-”

“No,” AJ interrupted. “We’re gonna stay here. We’re sleeping over.”

“Oh?” Violet looked to Clem, who firmly nodded. 

“Don’t worry about us, or him. And, let Rudy rest for as long as she needs. We’re okay to stay.”

Something strange crossed over Violet’s features. It looked as though she were trying to put puzzle pieces together. 

“Well... in that case, I’ll have someone bring you dinner later.”

“Thanks, Violet.”

As she left, it occurred to her. That look in Clementine's eyes was one Violet had seen before. 

Minnie used to look at her the same way every time she’d gotten hurt.

---

They spent the night in Louis’ room. Clem ended up on the couch since AJ insisted on sleeping on the floor next to the mattress. He piled up a bunch of pillows and spread himself over them, claiming they were more comfortable than any bed.

Tenn brought them their dinner. AJ tried to entice Louis awake with the smell of rabbit stew, but Louis didn’t budge. Clem told him to not get discouraged. Louis would wake up eventually, and when he did, he was sure to be starving. 

Clem didn’t know how much sleep he got. She could see him reaching over every once and a while to touch Louis’ hand, trying to get some sort of reaction.

And every time... nothing.  

But, that night, angry clouds formed in the night sky and thunder threatened the area. Soon, rain dripped lazily down, scattered and unassuming. The wind barely blew.

By the time morning came, it was a total downpour.

[hannahchronism]

The Chat Log™

Alright so I told myself (and Jordan) I would rewrite this into a drabble when I actually did the thing, and I am probably still going to, but not tonight because my brain isn’t working. So, if you care about my dustkids and my attempts to emotionally wreck Jordan at every turn, here’s a chat log for you (that’s actually from November, in case you’re curious about how long I’ve been sitting on this) that explains  what’s up on the Haven blog. It will be updated into a drabble at some point->

[3:46:15 AM] Hannahbal: A concept:

[3:48:50 AM] Hannahbal: Tox comes up on the safe haven after being pointed there by Tess. He crosses the fences on foot, and RKO has word to half the station before Tox is even halfway to the door, 'lone dustkid on foot. He's pretty, but he looks like fuckin' /shit/' - Phantom shoots back a comment, Vi can be heard laughing, but Lith misses out on the transmission because she left her radio in her room before holing up in the garden to teach Dawn how to harvest and use the aloe leaves.

[3:50:38 AM] Hannahbal: The first person to recognize Tox is Jack, who gives a look out of the window when he hear's RKO's early warning. At first he's dubious. All he had to go on was Phantom & Lith's story when they came to the desert, and though he trusts them, there was always so much that seemed missing from the tale. Now, he's go his suspicions, but watching the figure walk up Jack can't be sure it's really him. He races to the ground floor anyways, Colton on his hip, and storms out into the sand, daring -as always- to hope.

[3:53:31 AM] Hannahbal: The first familiar face Tox sees in fourteen months is Jack. Jack, who Tox hasn't seen since he left for the city nearly four years ago. The toddler on Jack's hip has to be the baby Tox helped deliver - it brings him up short, how long it's been and how much Colton already looks like Dusty. But then, Jack isn't slowing down, a fool grin on his lined face, and Tox only has a second to compose himself before he's wrapped in an iron strong one-armed hug. Same old Jack.

[3:55:49 AM] Hannahbal: "You're pretty spry for a dead guy" Jack laughs, but Tox can see the heavy sentiment underneath (Welcome back), feel the way his arrival has soothed a wound Jack hasn't been talking about Tox claps a hand against Jack's back, proof of his solidity "That's what they all say." (This is home)

[3:59:33 AM] Hannahbal: Jack steers Tox into the haven, content silence between them, and Tox is awed but unsurprised by this new home that Jack has built out of the desert's rejects. He spies some new faces (the one who was on guard, the little one slinking around in the corner) and some old (Vi with that churlish grin she always wears, Diana looking shocked, but tanner, brighter)  A sense of possibility hits him, looking at the faces, and then Phantom rounds the corner.

[4:04:23 AM] Hannahbal: Tox can't help it. He breaks from Jack's guidance to surge after Phantom (Nathan owes him a promise.) Before anyone knows what's happening, Tox has him pinned by the shoulders, his expression something peircing to behold. From the corner, Foxtrot exchanges a look with Vi, who has simply gone "jesus", and RKO looks like his eyes might roll out of his skull - Di seems equally startled. Des cautiously rounds a corner, perpared to back Phantom up until she realizes who that is with his hands holding fistfuls of Nathan's ratty shirt. Jack hold his son carefully away from the confrontation, surprised by a side of the compassionate young man he's never seen before, but comforted in his past familiarity with him: there's nothing, he's convinced, Tox will do that isn't just.

[4:07:33 AM] Hannahbal: Phantom's hands are up in surrender, his entire posture submissive to the warning aggression and his face unperturbed as he looks on at the friend he made within the walls of BLis city sized prison. Tox looks much the same, perhaps a little thinner, but still wide in the shoulders and, thankfully, amazingly alive. The key difference is the spark, the guttering flame ready to turn full blast. Phantom - Nathan had never seen more that a windblow ember before today, never more that a far of winking star. Now the blaze was waiting, and it was all he could do not to smile.

[4:10:23 AM] Hannahbal: Tox is not in the mood for smiling - he needs to know. Knuckles pressed firmly into the bones of Nathan's wiry shoulders, he stares the older man down. (Don't lie to me, man.) "I see Diana," he says softly, "I see Desire." Nathan nods - two members of their scattered group. "I don't see .. I don't." Tox can't say it, but the point stands. (Behind him, Jack makes a short sound, but the short glance Phantom sends shuts him hip fast. Not his business.)

[4:11:27 AM] Hannahbal: Tox grinds his teeth, pulling on Phantom's shirt before pushing him back into the thin metal wall  slowly, like a  grasp at straws of strength.

[4:12:09 AM] Hannahbal: "Did you keep your promise?" He asks, and searches so hard, so hard for the answer.

[4:12:30 AM] Hannahbal: Before Phantom ever opens his mouth, a quiet "oh!" comes from down the walkway.

[4:13:57 AM] Hannahbal: Dawn and Lith have appeared there, dusted with the dark soil from the garden. Dawn's face is drawn in surprise, a finger caught between her teeth as she glanced between Phantom and the man they left behind in the city, but all eyes are on the young woman over Dawn's shoulder.

[4:14:11 AM] Hannahbal: (how am i doin so far are you upset yet?) [4:14:18 AM] Tired™: im gonna block u

[4:15:12 AM] Hannahbal: For a long minute, there is silence. Heavy and palpable and so so fragile.

[4:15:24 AM] Hannahbal: No one dares to breath too loud.

[4:19:58 AM] Hannahbal: With careful but firm fingers, Phantom prys Tox's hands off his shirt, then lays his hand over his shoulder. With a quiet smile tugging at his eyes, he answers. "Yes" The silence is broken. "Yes?" the shaken echo comes from Lith, who has gone ashen, faced with the ghost from so many of her waking dreams, the figure of both her fantasies and nightmares. She is asking because she couldn't stand it to believe without being sure. To make the point, Phantom thumps the starstruck Tox on the chest, producing a very real, hollow whump.  "Yes" he says again.

Lith breaks free of her defensive restraint and /runs./ Tox meets her halfway.

[4:24:44 AM] Tired™: jesus u are still typing

[4:24:49 AM] Hannahbal: Where they meet the air is gold and miracles are real, it takes only an impossible hug to see that. It's not a movie, they don't kiss, not right away, too drawn to one another to bother with something so unimportant as kissing, no - they crash, they throw each other off their feet and hit the concrete without a damn care how much the bruise is going to hurt later. He his squeezing her like it had been nine centuries instead of nine months, and she is laying her hand over him, his arms and his back, pulling her hands through his short hair, feeling out the old familiar places and the new spots and scars. She can feel him now, real as the dirt under her fingernails, so she has to see.

[4:24:51 AM] Hannahbal: (yes)

[4:38:28 AM] Hannahbal: She pushes him and he lets her, but not very far - they are staring at each other now, their audience forgotten. She can't think what to say. He's thought about it every day since he got his last look, seeing her terrified as they pushed him down and cracked their nightsticks over his shoulders. "I fought" he says it softly, seeking either understanding or approval, "I told you to run so I could fight. You ran, at least, I hoped you did, so I fought. Every day I thought they'd come to tell me you were there, and they did twice," he smiled, something small and fierce, "but they had nothing to show, so I called them liars." "You fought" she nodded faintly, dragging her fingertips over the mark on his neck, the line on his bicep, the cut still half healed on his forehead. He caught her left hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. (For you. For a home for a family for what's right for liberty for kindness for justice.) Tears stung her eyes. She returned the gesture, only then spying the band of ink around his finger where his ring ought to have been. "No metal," he said solemnly, flexing his hand as she peered at the tattoo. "I don't know what they did with any of it. Melted it, probably." Shock had her look for the silver chain that ought to hang around his neck, but it was gone too. She was starting to understand. "It doesn't matter" she told him. His smile was crushing, and when she saw the old familiar him at last, she was suddenly very aware of her distinct lack of hair. She ran a self conscious hand over the short fuzz that crowned her head and laughed. "It's impossible to keep it clean out here, you know" He brushed his hands over the back of her head, peering at the short buzz job this way and that before declaring with a laugh, "I like it"

[pornowatch]

Valentine

Reyes finally gives in to McCree. 

In Blackwatch they’re called deathgrams.

All operatives are kitted out with the standard GPS beacons, but some take it a step farther. Internal monitoring equipment is not required - it can show up on invasive scans, which can be difficult to explain during undercover work.

But for some soldiers, when their heart stops, they want it to be known. Death triggers a virtual intelligence to initiate any number of protocols, everything from warning brothers-in-arms against rushing into danger to recover a mere corpse to remotely deleting sensitive information from datapads. Sometimes agents with families use it to send goodbye letters to loved ones.

Four days after McCree fails to meet his check-in Gabriel gets an automated message in his personal inbox.

Hey Boss.

Feel weird writing this. Always figured that anyone lucky enough to get me would get you to, but in case your still kicking around then I wanted to say sorry. I aint a fortune teller so I got no way of guessing what does me in, but I know your probably pissed as hell about it. do me a favor and make sure the asshole who got me gets his, alright?

I aint gonna let this get to heavy. It wouldnt be fair to unload all that on you since you cant exactly answer back. Point is, you know how I felt. I never said it outright, but I’m not any more subtle than you are stupid. And since regs don’t much matter now, I just wanted to let you know that I love you. Always did, always will. I could tell you cared about me too, so dont fret about me going to my grave without knowing it.

I never had much religion in me, but if there is an after Ill keep a seat open up at the bar for you. Just dont rush to get here.

-M

Gabriel reads it twice over. He commits the message to memory, complete with McCree’s lack of understanding of basic punctuation principles. The words, he keeps with him. The meaning, he’ll deal with later. Someday.

He purges the message from Overwatch’s server, then gets back to coordinating the recovery mission.

“You’re a son of a bitch,” Reyes grumbles at McCree’s bedside just a couple days later.

The cowboy is unconscious, pallid, and missing an arm. He might lose a leg too, but Zeigler is hoping to save it. But McCree is stable, and though his future with Overwatch is up in the air, he will live.

Oh, he’ll live. He’ll live to pay for putting me through that, a wayward voice in Gabriel’s head huffs. He’s so emotionally exhausted that even the relief of Jesse’s survival hasn’t fully hit him yet. Happiness will come later, after sleep.

The drill sergeant in Gabriel who usually stomps out thoughts like that instead lays off this time.

Less than two months. That’s all the time it takes before McCree is up and walking on his own legs, barely acquainted with the artificial arm prototype but already begging to get back to work. He’s got some healing to do yet and then has to be evaluated, but it’s looking to Reyes like he’ll be fine to return to Blackwatch. Angela really is a miracle worker.

“Say,” McCree starts slowly, and Gabriel has been waiting all day for this. McCree’s been helping out with clerical duties in his office (not without complaint of boredom, but still). Recently the cowboy’s been hung up, trying to talk about something uncomfortable but afraid to spit it out. “While I was MIA, you didn’t happen to, uh, get any weird messages?”

Reyes plays it cool. “Weird messages?”

“Hell, I only ask ‘cause I had one of them chips that kicks on when it don’t detect no life signs. Thing is, chip was in my arm. So, well, I found out that when the arm got taken off, the VI went ahead and sent off some… premature e-mails.”

Reyes sets his datapad down. This conversation has been a long time coming, yet he still doesn’t know how he wants to answer. If McCree wants to stay in Blackwatch then Gabriel has to not have seen the man’s dying declaration. He could lie, say the message never got through, and they can continue maintaining the indefinite holding pattern of “don’t ask, don’t tell”. He’d be saving both their careers from going down thanks to gossip and scandal at best, fraternization charges at worst.

On the other hand, he’d nearly lost Jesse.

“What’s the date?” Gabriel feigns completing some paperwork. McCree will understand. After a short pause the subject is allowed to drop.

“It’s the fourteenth, Boss.”

He feels himself frowning. February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day.

Gabriel Reyes was not a man who put much stock in signs from the universe, but even he had to admit it was one hell of a coincidence. Especially since they’d found McCree, busted up but still breathing, on Christmas Eve.

“Can you believe we’re finally doin’ this?” Jesse asks in a hoarse whisper, eyes drifting blissfully closed while Gabriel kisses down the curve of his shoulder.

The commander chuckles against Jesse’s skin. He’d said finally. Not “actually” or “really”, but finally - like it was inevitable that they end up half-undressed and rubbing cocks like horny teenagers. And shit, maybe it was inevitable. In nine years while everyone else in his life had broken his trust, Jesse was the only one determined to be at Gabriel’s side. He was the only one Gabriel couldn’t afford to lose.

He rolls his hips, pinning Jesse down to the couch. Every repressed fantasy about bending McCree over his desk, all the nights spent with his hand down his sweatpants, thinking of his second’s pouting lips have nothing on the real thing. Gabriel meets Jesse’s upward bucking in time, and they’re both too damn hard to do anything but hang on for dear life.

“Say you’re mine,” Gabriel moans, throat dry and completely, utterly heedless of it.

“Yours, darlin’. You got me. Always did.”

He says it like a promise, and in their clumsy rutting Jesse pulls Gabriel to him. He seals it with a kiss that tastes like bitter cigar smoke.

For the first time in decades, Gabriel gives himself over to it.