#it is what it is and ill have to get used to it i suppose lol

[justslightlymental]

"All of them Goddamn" Saja Boys x Reader Part 2

ill be so honest guys I feel like I butchered the start but oh well! I don't know for sure how long in the actual movie it took for them to defeat them yada yada. But in this AU i'll just say it took like a few months. Anyway, this doesn't have smut in it, IM SORRY BRO OKAY. im lowkey thinking of making a part 3 cuz this shit ended weird ok. ALSO reader is pregnant, if u dont like that LEAVE. its not my fault bro had unsafe smeggs in part 1

also yes im working on my other requests about them, those will be full on smut trust :33333 -

IT had been weeks since our last encounter. And oh boy… I’ve had these terrible headaches, these terrible stomach aches. The many times I’ve had to dip out of rehearsals just to empty my stomach. My energy levels have gone down the drain. I thought about reasons for a very long time, I was perfectly fine before the “Saja Boys” fiasco at the bathhouse, and a week or so after I was fine. But the more I thought about that night the more I realised how irresponsible and lust driven all of us were. Literally all of them splattered my insides white and NONE of us had any kind of protection, oh my fucking god. “What if I'm pregnant. What if im carrying the child of a fucking demon.” I spoke to myself quietly, sitting in my bed, stressing the fuck out. It all made sense, and I honestly wish it didn’t. How am I supposed to bring this up to THEM? How am I supposed to explain my predicament to my bandmates?? To our manager?? I can’t just fucking go up to them like ‘Oh yeah.. By the way, I'M pregnant and the father must be one of the Saja boys. Hell no. We had enough trouble overall with losing our fans day by day to them, and figuring out a song to completely wipe the demons out and strengthen the Honmoon up for good. Wait… If we defeat the saja boys and actually succeed, what about this possible child I might be carrying?? I mean maybe I’m not pregnant- But with everything happening there is a 98% chance I am. If we kill them- my child- or well their child too will forever be fatherless OH GOD what if the baby dies too?? I have to take a test, like badly. “Hey, I'm going out!” I said to the girls after emerging from my room, dressed very casually. “Alright, be safe okay?” Rumi said back, before turning back to her movie.

“Oh! Can you bring back chicken noodles?? I’ve been craving them!” Zoey yelled out from the kitchen. “Will do, bye bye!” “Byeeee!” Mira said, not looking away from her book.

The evening breeze was chilly, the hoodie I wore could only do so much. Feeling the cold sweeping through the tiniest openings. I walked faster, wanting to get to the sweet warmth of the pharmacy, which shouldn’t be too far now. As I finally reached the store, immediately feeling relieved and speed walking to the intimacy section, looking through all the different tests. I kept my hood up, trying to stay as hidden as possible not wanting any scandals to happen.

”Would you like some help?” A kind pharmacist said from next to me, a smile on her face. ”Uhmm… Well, anything that's trustworthy..?” I answered awkwardly.

We had a lovely conversation, she was really easy to talk to. The average auntie, well at least she looked the age… Thankfully she did not recognize me, internally sighing in relief. As I finished shopping and walked out. I was immediately met with the cold and once again began my walk back home.

Though as I was walking it felt like I was being watched, the hairs on the back of my neck rising like I was spiderman. I tried to walk faster, taking different routes but in the end a sudden smoke appeared out of nowhere, scaring the ever living shit out of me. Currently I was in an alley too so his shit truly was not ideal.

”Well well well, look who it is.” A deep voice called out and I immediately recognized it.

”Jinu??!” I said shocked, clutching the bag into my chest.

”And don’t forget about us!” Another voice said and four more men appeared right next to Jinu.

Oh for fucks sake.

”I'm not in the mood.” I scoffed. 

Okay well between you and me I was very much in the mood but I also did not want them knowing about my… predicament.

”C'mon doll we all know that’s a lie.” Abby said, walking closer to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders.

”No really, please.. Just let me go.” I sighed, my emotions in overdrive. “What’s the matter?” Mystery asked, seemingly the only one with the social skills to actually pick up on my mood. “It’s nothing, just a bad day.” I quickly said, wanting to get out of this situation before my ‘possible’ secret gets revealed. “Why do you smell so good right now?” Romance spoke up, suddenly appearing right beside me, literally inhaling my scent. “Now that you mention I smell it too.” Baby said, eyeing me up and down. Oh shit, I literally forgot they are demons. Does this basically confirm my suspicions and fears? Can they smell the change in my hormones or some shit? That's lowkey creepy, but whatever. “Just let me go.” I said once again, walking past them. Obviously they wouldn’t let me go that easily, hearing their footsteps behind me. I was seriously fed up. “You’re hiding something aren’t you? Maybe in that bag of yours?” Jinu caught up with me, tilting his head in a mocking way. “Did you pick up some toys to use incase we all met up again?” Abby joked, others giggling with him.

I chose to ignore them, as much as I honestly wanted to get down on the floor and get absolutely ravished by all of them. Getting home and doing this test and then crying my eyes out was much more favorable.  Though I don’t think they took me ignoring them very well, the next thing I knew they had stopped in their tracks, making me turn around, their faces rid of any humor or smiles. “Fine if you’re going to act like a brat. Don’t bother crawling back to us begging for more.” Jinu scoffed, all of them agreeing with him. “The entitlement is crazy!! See if i fucking care!” I yelled out, baffled at how these men… No these DEMONS were acting. No other words were exchanged as I turned on my heel and practically ran off, holding in the tears. This is how everything was supposed to go. Obviously they wouldn’t hold any emotional attachment to me, what was I expecting? A nice dinner date in the city's most luxurious 5 star restaurant?? They are demons for fucks sake, their whole thing is to just lure people in and then eat their souls. But why did it hurt so much? It’s not like they actually took advantage of me or anything, I gave them my full consent and was reckless. And now I'm paying the price for one night of pleasure. I thought, staring at the 3 positive tests in my hand. Makeup already ruined, eyeliner mushed around my cheeks, tears still flowing down freely. My emotions were all over the place, It wasn’t on my plans to become a young mother to a fucking half demon baby. Yet despite all of that I couldn’t help but already feel attached. This child was innocent, who am I to blame it for being conceived by my own foolish desires and actions. I had decided, no matter how foolish or bad, I was keeping this baby and that’s final. The next few weeks were awful, between the writing, composing of songs and rehearsals not to mention rivaling against Saja boys. AND struggling with the amazing side effects of pregnancy, thankfully I wasn’t showing yet, so I could still use our performance outfits no matter how flashy or tight they were. Things had been going south though. The Honmoon was weakening due to our lack of progress, demons appearing left and right. Fans leaving and going for Saja boys. They were practically everywhere, we were being overthrown quickly.

“Alright girls! I know everythings all ‘saja’ ‘saja’. But we are going to turn it into ‘Huntrix!’ ‘Huntrix!’ alright?” Bobby said with a smile placing a bunch of posters in front of us at our table. “There’s a bunch of fans outside who literally SLEPT on the sidewalk just to see you. “Happy fans… Happy Honmoon!” We all looked at each other and clicked our pens together, sitting at our fan event table. And so the fans bursted in and so did 5 random… sleeping bag things..? “And who do I owe this to?” Rumi asked with a smile, going to pick up a poster to sign it. “To your biggest fans…” The male said, they all revealed themselves as Saja boys. Oh for FUCKS sake. All of the attendees went crazy yelling out their band name. “Oh Saja boys It’s an honor! Table please!” Bobby said, as they brought a table down for the boys. “Joint meeting??” Half of the people lined up for us moved to the boys table. We looked at each other baffled, Rumi staying silent for a moment before standing up and announcing the boys would be seated with us and the people immediately lined back up. “WHAT?!” All of us whisper yelled.

“We need all the fans we can get…” Rumi said, sitting back down in her seat. I was now forced to sit between Baby and Jinu. Neither of them didn’t seem to pay attention to me, but I could feel glances my way ever so often. Forced to listen to them shamelessly flirting with my bandmates, forced to sit in absolute misery and worst of all.. Forced to suffer my raging hormones, oh god they smelled so good. The fan event started off good, signing posters and albums, having short chats with the fans, doing cute stuff yada yada. I was doing a pretty good job with ignoring the boys, no matter how much I wanted to oogle at them. Jinu made it very clear they don’t want anything to do with me anymore. “Hello! I hope you’re doing alright!” I smiled sweetly at the next fan in front of me, a guy my age I assumed. “Oh my god!! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” He beamed with happiness, taking my hands in his. Oookayy.. could’ve asked for permission first but i’ll let it slide… Happy fans.. Happy Honmoon I reminded myself. “I can’t believe I'm meeting you! Thank you for supporting us!” I smiled back, a little forced. “I’ve been a fan since the first day, you’re my favorite! I love you so much!” He continued, moving closer to me. “I appreciate that!” I cringed internally at how close he was getting. “Would you like me to sign anything?” The fanboy gasped letting go of my hands to dig into his bag, probably for an album. I couldn’t help but notice from the corner of my eye how Jinu had turned his head towards us both, watching the interaction clearly not amused. It was then when I felt a hand land on my thigh, inching ever so closer to my core. My eyes widened for a moment before I calmed myself down, acting normal for the fan. “Please sign my album!” He asked, handing it to me and so I did.

“You’re so amazing!!! Pleaseee marry me!” The guy said, lowkey freaking me out now. This also caught the attention of my bandmates but also all of the Saja Boys. And if looks could kill this fellow would be buried deep within the earth's core. I forced an awkward smile, trying not to yell at this guy, not wanting to scare any of the other fans who might I add also started watching the interaction. “Hahaha- Thank you- umm I’m sorry but-” Before I could continue a hand slammed in front of me, making me flinch. “I think it’s time you move on.” It was Jinu and he was pissed, in fact they all were pissed I could feel the atmosphere changing. Everyone was dead quiet, the guy looked like he would piss his pants at any moment, before quickly snatching the poster and fleeing the whole event. It was pretty fucking awkward after that but it wasn’t long until things seemed to return to normal. “Thank you…” I muttered to Jinu, not sparing a glance. He didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, another squeeze to my thigh was all I needed. Maybe everything was not lost between us after all, maybe he did care, maybe they all did. They just didn’t know how to express themselves… I don’t know, maybe I’m just delusional holding onto the smallest thread of hope. One thing is for sure though, I need to let them know.  After the fan event fiasco I was sitting in my dressing room, just staring into the mirror. The frown on my face was evident as a hand rested on my stomach. The thoughts in my head racing, I was so conflicted. Everytime I saw one of the guys I felt weak in my legs, my heart thumped against my chest, and I just felt… weird. Was I really falling in love?

And how would that end huh…

I was suddenly pulled away by my thoughts due to my door opening, in walked all of them. Without an invitation of course!! We just stared at each other without saying a word, the air heavy around us. I don’t know for how long we just stood there in silence, but it felt like our eyes were having the conversation for us entirely.

“Why did you come here.” I asked bluntly.

“To check up on you, are we not allowed to care?” Jinu asked with a frown, hands folded in front of his chest. I let out an amused scoff, looking away from them, gathering my words. “That’s rich coming from you. From all of you.” I said a hint of venom in my tone. “From what I gathered last time we happened to bump into each other you all were only after ONE thing. Sex. It’s very funny suddenly seeing you ‘care’, or being interested in how I'm doing. Hey it’s okay though! It was a really nice one night stand, I can't believe I expected more.” It felt relieving to finally get my feelings out, really it did. “What? Got nothing to say? Because I was right?” I asked, staring at their faces, all of them seemed to avoid eye contact, nervous almost. “It’s.. not that… I just- We’ll we just… The truth is-” Jinu tried but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. “We all like you!” Baby Saja yelled out. “We didn’t know how to tell you, or how to find you..” Romance continued, scratching the back of his head. “I guess the moment we saw you again.. Asking for that was like.. a way to try and forget..” Abby said, his face red. “We thought you would never like us back.. Since you know… we are demons.” Mystery quietly said Honestly their confession shocked me, you mean there’s actually hope?? They actually have feelings?? No fucking way. It almost brought me to tears, fucking hormones. “I- I’m shocked… Truth is after our ‘thing’ I couldn’t stop thinking about you all…” I mumbled, all of their heads snapped towards me. “It was torture trying to sleep that night…” I giggled quietly, remembering. “You drive us crazy… And today seeing that boy touch you… It made us mad, it's weird.. It feels like an instinct, to protect you from everything and anything…” Jinu said, others agreeing. “I feel like I need to be close to you… at all times, something is pulling me in.” Baby said, walking closer to me. All of them followed, I backed towards the counter where all my makeup was laid. I stared up at them, all of a sudden remembering the last time and immediately felt like my panties had just been dipped into water.  “I want to be close to you all too…” I said, eyes never leaving theirs. Suddenly nothing else mattered, all I wanted was to have a taste of them again, to feel them touch me, mark me, claim me. Jinu’s hands landed on my shoulders, he leaned in slowly, our lips connecting in a sweet kiss. It wasn’t messy like before, but instead a passionate one. As we separated he looked me deep in the eyes, his hand caressing my cheek. “I’m sorry about that day.” He said. “It’s okay…” None of us shared another word, but that was okay. Though I still felt terrible, as they all got close to me. I was keeping this secret from them, but I was afraid, so afraid. What would they think? What would everyone think? I didn’t want this moment to end in more unnecessary fighting and drama, I just wanted everyone to be happy. If it meant keeping and going through this by myself I would do it. 

Romance pressed his lips against my neck, his teeth just slightly gracing my skin. Baby on my other side, his hand caressing my arm, leaning against me, enjoying the warmth of my skin. Abby took Jinu’s place in front of me, kissing me deeply, pressing himself up against me. Softly moaning into his kiss, playfully fighting his tongue with my own. Mystery had taken Romance's side and was now running his fingers through my hair, kissing my cheek and neck. After a little bit more making out with them and touching each other up we separated, even if we didn’t want to. But time was not on our side, soon the girls would come looking for me and we would be busted big time. “We’ll see each other more right?” I asked hopefully, the fact is I felt myself not wanting to leave their side for even a moment. “Yes, definitely. It hurts us to be away from you darling.” Jinu said. “Let us mark you… be ours forever..” Abby asked, almost desperate. “Please, I need everyone to know you are mine and theirs.” Mystery said, his voice whiny. The rest agreed, and how could I say no to them? Even if my mind tried telling me no. For deep down in my heart I was afraid of all these feelings, what happens if we truly seal the Honmoon up for good? My heart would be broken beyond repair. “Yes.” In a flash their human forms disappeared, replaced by their demon counterparts. I used to loathe them, to hate them but now I feel like I preferred seeing their true selves. I felt even more connected to them. They placed their hands on my chest one by one, each time a mark flashed over my chest, a purple hue traveling along my veins down my arms before disappearing. Each time I felt a surge of emotions, feelings like a piece of their lost souls merged with mine. I'm sure they felt more alive, I could see this light in their eyes I had never seen before. “You are ours now and we.. are yours.” - YEA ILL MAKE A PART 3 MAYBE YEAH (i will)

[tenshx]

❥ Everything You Wanted ❥

(chap 1)

ꨄread it on ao3

❥ pairing: william hillwalker x fem!reader

❥ word count: 8.1k+ words

❥ summary: Fifteen years ago, William made the agonizing choice to leave everything behind as his world unraveled, including his former best friend he abandoned without a word. He's convinced he made peace with that decision. Turns out, one phone call is all it takes to break open what he's spent years trying to bury.

❥ an: yo girl is back at it again with a william fic this time‼️ im still updating the jackson one dw. i know it seems out of place to make a plot like this but i promise ill throw in the lore later. also i almost got sent to the ER writing this gang. i might revise the summary later but uhhhh i kinda went overboard with this one. 🤠

❥ possible triggers: abandonment, mentions of weapons, mentions of violence

“.. So yeah, if you ever find the time, just call me back.”

William passes by the house phone, fingers pressing against the worn out keypad, inputting a four digit pin with unconscious familiarity. The machine sputters to life once more. Static cracks through the speakers followed by distant and muffled rustling.

Jackson’s presence is absent from the farm, finally quiet for once. He had left about an hour ago to grab something from the market, giving William time to complete the mundane tasks around the house.

William liked quiet— not the deafening silence that made him overthink but ones that were just enough to distract him from his own thoughts. The kind that pulled him from reality. The background noise of the TV, the subtle hum of the radio, and sometimes, that familiar voice coming from a voicemail.

He wraps his fingers around the handles of the hammer, its weight dragging lazily across the table. It feels heavy in his grip, the wood worn out from years of use. The plank hung crooked, nailed firmly on one end while the other side swung loosely in the air. He fished for the nail lodged deep into his pocket, his fingers getting pricked a few times before he finally had a firm hold on it.

There’s still shuffling coming from the black box on the counter nearby. Maybe if he swung hard enough, it would distract him, even just for a moment. So he slams his hammer against the nail, a sharp and metallic thunk echoing across the room, but it isn't enough. Your voice still manages to cut through the noise.

“Hey, it’s me. Again.”

Of course it was you. For fifteen years, it’s always been you. No matter how many years have passed and how much your voice has changed, it always feels like the first time he’s hearing it again.

“I.. I don't even know why I’m still sending you these. Fourteen years since you’ve left and..”

You sound defeated, but the empty acceptance in your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him. There’s a resignation in your voice that wasn’t present before. He gives the nail another blow, the sound rattling his skull, but not enough to block you out.

“.. I guess I was just hoping you’d answer. That maybe one of my calls would change your mind. I don't even know if this is your number anymore, but it's the only piece I have left of you. It was my way of pretending that you still existed somewhere in my life.”

He keeps telling himself he remembers why he left.

It wasn't supposed to be forever. Just until the worst had passed, when he began figuring things out. After the death of his mother, the disappearance of his father, and the sudden responsibility of stepping up as a parental figure for Jackson, everything began caving inward.

He wasn’t planning on leaving you behind until his brother welcomed an entity into their home. When his sanity began to crumble and he began picking up psychotic tendencies, he let you slip through his fingers too.

He told himself it was an act of mercy. He didn’t want you to be involved in his mess and he made sure you wouldn’t be.

But on days like today, you found your way back into his life.

“I hate that I’m still waiting for you. I mean it’s pathetic, isn’t it? Sending voicemails to a ghost, not knowing if it'll reach you. I wish I could hate you, leave you like you left me--”

He can hear you breathe in sharply, as if trying to calm yourself. Then a laugh escapes your lips, sour and raw. He falters for a moment, the hammer in his hand hovering mid-air, as if he's unsure of what to do next. The nail is half-buried into the plank, his eyes glued to it but his attention on your words haunting him.

He’s memorized every single one of your messages like a lullaby, but hearing it never gets easier.

“--but I can’t.”

Your voice falters and he finds himself lowering the hammer, walking towards the machine that spewed out your message. Despite the distance, you're closer this way-- almost as if you’re right next to him, saying the words out loud. Deep down, he wants you to despise him. Wants you to scream and tell him that he’s a piece of shit. Something definitive.

That way, you could finally give him closure-- the final push-- to bury you for good.

Unfortunately, you don’t. Even after fifteen years of silence, you’re still tethered around him just like old times. The message is almost over and his finger hovers over the button, ready to end it before you can finish. For a moment, the static fades, silence taking its place.

He doesn’t follow through, finding himself waiting for you to speak. He knows what you'll say next, but he listens because this is the only apology he can give you. It’s the least he can do.

“I’ve tried to forget you. I’ve done everything. Deleted your number. Got rid of memories of you. Fuck, I even drank myself stupid. So why..” You sigh, the house breathing with you as if reacting to your words. The wind slips through the cracks of the window, humming softly. He feels your presence-- the way it constricts around his throat, the weight it brings on his chest. It lingers like a scent that won’t fade. “Why do I always come back?”

There's a faint click on the other end. He hasn’t heard your voice since then, a year passing since your last attempted call.

He doesn’t move or breathe, but the draft wrapping around him reminds him to. When he does, he realizes his finger is still where he left it, like a ghost of indecision mocking him. The unbearable quiet returns, only broken by the hiss of the wind and his slow, measured breathing.

William was convinced that what he did was necessary. You should've just been a dust of memory in his mind, a small part of his life. Leaving you behind shouldn’t have been a compromising situation.

He says he’s over it, but people who move on don’t save voicemails. Moving on doesn't long for a return and it doesn’t feel guilt at the end of its string. The thought of you shouldn’t flood his mind, drowning him in your words that he left unanswered.

Moving on doesn’t look like this.

Moving on doesn’t sound like you.

He finally shifts, fingers travelling to punch in the same four digit pin, only to replay another voicemail.

꧂

“Stupid fuckin’ rabbit,” William hisses as the white blob stares back at him. Its large eyes gleam with curiosity and its nose twitches slightly. Despite his sharp glare and his venomous tone, the rabbit stays perfectly still, unbothered.

There's a cigarette trapped between his lips, the end of it illuminating the dark of the night. He lets out a slow, angry puff, the smoke coiling around his face before he speaks uselessly to it again. “Beat it or I’ll skin you with my own damn hands.”

He doesn’t realize how ridiculous he must look-- a towering 6’3 man arguing with a rabbit barely the size of his hand. A murderer, a psychopath, bothered by the presence of something so harmless and innocent. His eye twitched at the sight, rage flickering behind his exhaustion.

This was supposed to be a moment of silence, a trace of peace for the storm building. He only intended to clear his mind for a few minutes, wanting to take a short walk before dealing with Jackson’s antics at home, but now here he was, having a staring contest with a wide-eyed woodland creature.

He should’ve brought his knife like he usually did. He had rushed out, not wanting to prolong his trip, and had forgotten his knife in the process. Now his words felt hollow, nothing more than an empty threat.

The rough bark of the tree pressed into his back as he leaned against it, his free hand stuffed into the pocket of his jacket. The cold is evident, the trees rustling as the wind begins to pick up. The road is close, just enough within reach, but far enough to keep him concealed in the shadows of the woods. The occasional sound of a car passing, the distant thrum of music from a speeding vehicle, was enough to distract him from the uncomfortable silence that hangs in the air. It would only drive him more mad than he already was.

William wasn't a smoker, only ever picking it up when he needed to shut everything out. Tonight was one of those nights, the burn in his lungs and the taste stuck on his tongue serving as a lifeline. He takes another pull, a harsh cough leaving his mouth, and when the haze disappears, the stupid fucking rabbit is still there looking at him. .

He sneers, irritation boiling over as he realizes that he’s more frustrated now than when he left the farm. This piece of shit was ruining his whole purpose of his departure and to make matters worse, it wasn’t exactly doing anything to provoke a reaction from him.

“You little shit--” He reaches down in an attempt to take the animal in his hold, half-blinded by rage, wanting to wring its neck with his hand, but the sound of rustling nearby startles it. In an instant, the rabbit scurries into the nearest bush, and William is left frozen in place with his hand outstretched towards nothing.

Before he could process the situation fully, a sudden light to his right blinds him, catching him by surprise.

It burns through his vision for a moment, his arm instinctively moving to shield his eyes away. He squints from the harsh glare, attempting to recover from the assault. It takes a moment to piece out the situation, but eventually, he sees two figures in the distance making their way towards him, the faint echo of voices rising in the air.

Once his vision adjusts, he notices the glint of their badges reflecting in the dim light, the unmistakable tan of their uniform, and those absurd hats they always wore. The realization slowly creeps up on him and soon, their words register, his arm lowering.

A part of him freezes-- not out of shock, but from the growing tension in the air. The cigarette still dangles in his lips as he observes the two, straightening himself out a bit.

The older officer steps forward, face weathered by time and experience. There’s a subtle confidence to him, his movements measured, only adding to the air of authority that was obvious. His gaze is sharp, focused on William as he eyes him in a suspicious manner. Behind him, a more youthful man trembles slightly, jittery as he flashes the light around him as a reassurance. His face is pale, clearly shaken up by the eeriness of his surroundings.

“Evening, sir,” the older man is the first to speak, nodding towards William as a poor attempt at a neutral greeting.

William sighs, his fingers capturing the bud between his lips, turning his head away to exhale a final huff of smoke into the night air. The younger officer scrunches his nose at this, the scent clinging to the air around them. In one swift movement, he flicks the bud on the ground, crushing it under the weight of his boot before sparing them his attention.

“Yeah, evening,” he replies simply, his voice flat. There’s a disinterested look on William's face, but the hint of annoyance slips out.

“Is there a reason why you’re out here so late, son?” The older man's voice is not hostile, but it isn't exactly welcoming. He crosses his arms, waiting patiently for his response.

“Taking a walk.”

“Little late for a walk, isn’t it?” The officer is unconvinced, eyes scanning him carefully and with clear intent, looking for any tell.”Seems like an odd place to take a light night stroll, especially with the way things have been lately around town.”

William doesn’t shift his weight, showing no concern or panic at his accusatory words. He has no reason to feel antsy about the whole situation-- all he had to do was play it smart, enough to make them believe, and then he’d be let go. Refusing would only give them more of a reason.

“Didn’t know it was a crime.”

The officer doesn’t flinch or show any kind of negative reaction, instead nodding at his words as if agreeing, “I know it isn’t, but you aren’t on any trails and there’s been a string of disappearances linked to an area a few miles away from here. It doesn’t exactly sound promising.”

William thinks it over for a moment. The officer does have a point--a man of his size, suspiciously brooding in the forest at this time of night, under those circumstances, was bound to raise red flags. He knew he should’ve been more cautious, especially with the cases getting more attention in the media. There wasn’t a day that passed where it wasn’t mentioned at least once.

A novice mistake, he thinks, but it's nothing he can’t adjust to.

Before he could muster up a response, the officer cuts him off shortly, his voice now firm, no longer buying his act. “You got an ID, son?”

William doesn’t move for a second but decides to at least pretend, patting several pockets of his jeans and jacket. His hand digs through the opening of his jacket where his knife usually rested, silently degrading himself for leaving it behind. This interaction would’ve been long over before it started if he had brought it along.

“Must’ve forgot it.”

The reply is casual. Too casual where the officer's demeanor changes. It's subtle, but William notices. The man’s stare hardens, his shoulders tightening at his response and he comes to the realization that this isn’t a casual check anymore. He’s officially under the radar. Despite this, he’s still far more irritated than worried about the situation.

The rookie behind him looks up at the officer, his voice a bit shaky and tight, “That doesn’t sound right.”

However, he immediately shuts his mouth upon receiving a glare from his superior, his gaze averting to his feet in embarrassment.

“So let me get this straight. You’re taking a stroll, after dark, in the middle of the woods near a restricted area, and you don’t have an ID?” He says in disbelief, a little more hostile. “That doesn’t sit right with me.”

The hole is deepening, his position not looking too good, but William stands there, clearly peeved regardless of his attempts of remaining calm, “Do I need an ID to walk around now?”

The heaviness in the air is prominent. The young man looks uncomfortable at the tension, but the older man seems to pay no mind to William’s comment, his voice cool and deliberate.

“Alright, here’s what's gonna happen. We’re not looking for trouble, but with everything happening, we’re not just going to ignore this. You’re not under arrest, but until we know who you are and your business for loitering out here at such an odd hour, you’re coming with us.”

William feels himself grow taut for a second, but he shakes it off before they could notice, his glare is unintentionally fixed on them as the anger simmers beneath the surface. All of this trouble over a stupid fucking walk. He sets a very strict reminder to never stray away from his routine again. Stick to the farm work and use that as an outlet for his emotions.

He doesn’t respond but remains rooted to his spot. The man takes that as a silent approval (not that he had a choice) and moves to pull out his radio, walking a good distance away from them before speaking into the device. The younger officer pulls out a pair of cuffs, just for safe measure, but shrinks at the sight of William’s expression darkening at him, a promise of violence hidden beneath it. The cuffs are gone faster than they appeared.

Williams' sights linger on the poor boy-- lanky, fearful, and not suited for his job. He was an easy target, one blow to the neck and he’d be a goner. It was an easy escape, a fast solution, but with authorities on his ass, it might have not been the best option. Especially not with the farm on the line.

The officer soon returns, cutting off whatever sinister thoughts brewed up in William’s mind.

“We’ll take you to the precinct, have someone verify your story, and we’ll let you go. If there’s nothing to hide, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”

A curse threatens to spill from his mouth, but he swallows it down. He should’ve killed that damn rabbit with his bare hands or ventured to a deeper part of the forest. Maybe that way, he could’ve been home finishing up some chores or taking a well deserved nap.

Maybe then, he could’ve lost himself in the comfort of your voice before resigning for the day.

But it doesn’t matter now. None of it does as both of them wait for his reply, staring at him in a way that makes him feel like an animal in an exhibit. If they wanted to play this game, he’d gladly play along to get them out of his hair. With a deep breath, he manages to get the words out through gritted teeth.

“Sure.”

꧂

The room smells sickly. The walls are sterile, the scent of bleach and watered down coffee wafting the space, and the overhead light above keeps flickering in a way that makes his head pulsate. He pulls his jacket closer to him, the cold of the room and the unease of people watching him behind the glass pane making him only more antsy and irate.

William slumps against the chair, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes follow the assigned officer. That deafening silence is back again and it's only making him more aggravated than he needs to be. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is the soft hum of the fluorescent light above and the sound of papers flipping from the officers clipboard.

They’ve asked him the same eight questions, the pressure palpable, but William doesn’t feed into it. They ask him a plethora of questions and he complies, giving just enough to seem cooperative but not enough for their liking.

His eyes glance to the clock hanging nearby, following the hand tick every second they waste of his time. He keeps count, his patience thinning.

The questions stopped for a good five minutes, the officer quiet as he flips through papers for the fourth time around as if trying to decipher something deeper in his words. It’s clear that he’s trying to find a reason to keep him in longer, but he’s confident they can’t. William’s almost convinced he’s in the clear, giving them everything they needed to prove his innocence.

Everything was going smoothly, just as anticipated, until--

“Where do you stay, Mr. Hillwalker?”

The question catches him off guard and leaves him exposed. William pauses, his shoulders tightening. He feels the dread flicker in his chest for a moment, his mind stuttering when he fully processes the question.

He doesn’t reply and it only makes him appear more suspicious. The only answer he can think of is the farm, but it’s not an option. Not when everything was on the line. Not when his home was practically a graveyard, a burial of secrets and all the hard work they’ve built up over the years.

He can’t give away something that he’s sacrificed everything for.

So he says nothing and the officer just stares, waiting. Not pressing him to answer, but not moving on either.

He can hear the hand of the clock ticking right next to him, suddenly sensitive to every noise playing in the small, finite room and he feels himself slipping for a bit, the pressure finally getting to him.

A minute longer would only give them another reason to detain him for an extended period of time, to suspect him of crimes he did commit, the blood on his hands only getting more conspicuous every second. Every lie in his head is jumbled up into one thought and he tries to sort through them, desperate to conjure up some fake but plausible story.

And then his mind drifts to you. The only thing that he’s able to pick out in the fog and before he knows it, his mind grabs onto the thought with nowhere left to turn.

The words leave his mouth faster than he can stop it.

“I’m staying with a friend.”

It knocks the breath out of him, his heart beating out of his ears at the escaped lie. It’s the next worst thing he can say, feeling the after effects and the dread that follows. The officer writes something down on his clipboard and William tries to prepare himself to be pushed further.

“A friend,” the officer repeats, raising a brow. “Name?”

He considers changing up his story because at this point, anything is better than talking about you. Saying your name felt like bringing the dead back to life and he doesn’t want that.

He has no choice, now that he’s dug his own grave. His tongue feels like lead and his mouth is full of cotton, but he manages to push through, the words too familiar. A name that held too many memories.

He jots it down, not giving William time to recover before the next question slips out.

“Does your friend have a number?”

Of course you do. After hearing it repeat for the past fifteen years, it was practically etched into every crevice of his being. He holds back because giving the officer an answer is like pulling a trigger.

If he blurts it out now, he’ll only open an entryway he’s been attempting to block out his whole life.

“Mr. Hillwalker?”

His mouth feels dry. You could’ve changed your number, right? You haven’t called him in a year. A sliver of hope flickers inside him, grasping onto the possibility that you might not pick up, but deep down, he knows it's wishful thinking. He knows if they call right now, you’d answer and that thought alone terrifies him.

He doesn’t want to involve you. He doesn’t want to see you.

Yet, the number escapes his mouth, emotionless as if spitting it out that way could make it matter less, but he doesn’t miss the way each digit burns his throat or how his hands clench and unclench in the pockets of his jackets.

With a final scribble of his pen, the officer nods towards him with a tight smile before rising from his chair. The legs scrape across the tiles and William flinches at it.

“Thank you,” the man says, already collecting the items on the table. “We’ll make the call and get back to you.”

The officer doesn’t wait for a response and the room is silent again. Only this time around, the background noise doesn’t pull him from reality.

꧂

The room feels suffocating, as if the air itself is being drained, sparing just enough for him to barely breathe.

He’s lost track of time since the officer left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It could’ve been ten minutes, maybe even an hour for all he fucking knows, but time doesn’t feel like its moving in here. Everything feels like a fever dream, one that he wants to wake from.

There’s a twisted part of his mind that hopes you don’t answer, that they’ll see through his world of make-believe and they’ll just continue on with the interrogation. He convinces himself that no sane person would pick up a call from an unknown number at four in the morning. That once it reaches you, you'll let it run to voicemail like he always has with your calls.

He hopes that when you don’t answer, this would be his sign to let go of the past.

When the door opens and the officer walks in, William moves quicker than he’d like to admit. His head snaps up, looking over towards the doorway to see him standing with nothing in his hands this time around.

“She answered.”

It’s straightforward and simple, but the words feel like a huge blow on him. He doesn’t visibly react, but internally, his world stops at the confirmation. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it does and it shakes him to his core. It isn’t until the man speaks that he’s able to breathe again.

“She’s on her way to sign papers and after that, you should be good to go.”

The officer's mouth is still moving and he can hear the words, but it all feels muddled up. He says something about waiting elsewhere, some kind of procedure, and William catches enough to follow the man’s directions, but his mind still hasn’t exactly caught up.

The door soon shuts again and he’s left there once more with the weight of something far more unbearable.

For the first time in forever, he doesn’t know what the hell to do.

꧂

They transfer him to a more public waiting area. There’s more noise than before-- the idle chat of two police officers behind the counter, the news report that places from the TV hanging on the far right corner of the room, and the occasional sound of the door opening.

Each time it opens, he holds his breath, eyes shooting up to it. His hands are sweating in his pockets, his leg bouncing relentlessly since he first sat on one of the stiff benches. The room is cold and hot at the same time despite the occasional breeze coming in whenever someone steps inside the establishment. He considers taking off his jacket for a moment but he stops himself, knowing that it’ll only make him feel more vulnerable than he already was.

There’s not a lot going through his head except for the fact that you’re coming and whenever the hand of the clock ticked, it served as a countdown, heightening his anxiety.

Somewhere around the thirty minute mark, he stops looking up, his heart jerking upwards to his throat one too many times for his liking. It’s only making everything a lot worse for him.

But eventually, the door opens again.

He doesn’t register it at first, the familiar jingle of the bell ringing, but the stillness of the air is distinct and he just knows. Then his body moves on its own, head lifting and eyes searching for you. Once he finally makes the effort to do so..

You’re already looking back at him, both of your gazes meeting for the first time in fifteen long years. Suddenly, the years waiting collapsed into the space between you both and for one full second, everything-- the voicemails, the station, the dread, the time, the guilt--

-- disappears .

For the first time, it’s just the two of you.

You’re the first to break contact, a sigh leaving your mouth before you walk over to the front.

꧂

William watches as you sign something with an officer, his gaze trapped as he takes you in with the desperation of someone who's been deprived of something that he was sure he could live without. He sinks in his chair, uncertain of the feeling rising in his chest as everything begins to crash over him.

He knew you’d look different-- after all, fifteen years will do that to someone. You’re older, that's a given, but you’re not unfamiliar. You’re just more solid somehow, the once innocent features now grown into. It only reminds him that he allowed time to pass and despite his actions, you’re still real and here with him.

You wear the years, but it's still undeniably you and it only solidifies reality for him.

His observations are soon interrupted by the small of your voice quietly thanking the officer, one that he’s heard countlessly through voicemails that helped him cope. You send them a final, awkward smile before turning to face him, his body immediately reacting to your eyes. He sits up straight, his hands clench in his pockets, and he feels himself choke on air.

It doesn’t take long before you make your way towards him and for some inexplicable reason, he can’t sit still. He stands as if pulled by an invisible thread but his knees feel unsteady and his body rigid as he towers over your form. You stop short of him, showing no signs of recognition. You don’t spare him a greeting, a smile, a curse-- just silence that digs under his skin, frustrating him more than he’d like to admit.

He’s not sure if that was the reaction he wanted, but he didn’t really know what he was expecting.

William finds that he can’t say anything either despite listening to your voice on repeat for fifteen years.

Luckily, you save him the trouble of doing so, speaking in a muted tone that he was no stranger to.

“Need a ride?”

Your question is left unanswered as he gapes at you, a look of reminisce in his eyes as if he’s trying to find pieces of what you used to be. You let it happen for a moment but when he doesn’t give you proper response, you finally look down, a defeated sigh leaving your mouth before you turn your heel.

He thinks you’re about to leave and he tries to prepare himself to let it happen, but then your voice cuts through before he can make the decision.

“I’ll be outside. You have three minutes.”

With that, you push past the doors of the precinct, stepping outside shortly, the bell ringing as the door swings shut behind you. He has three minutes to decide if he wants you to disappear again or if he’ll let you back into his life, even if it's only for a fleeting moment. It doesn’t take long before he makes up his mind, a minute barely passing before he trails after you, his footsteps loud against the quiet of the precinct.

He soon meets with you, sitting on the hood of your car, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket. The air is cold and the sun is steadily rising. The world feels still, as if waiting on one of you to make a move. Your head turns from the rising sun to face him, expression still unreadable.

You both stay like that for a while, neither of you speaking, until he finally does for the first time since.

“Why did you come?” His voice sounds cold, but he knows it's anything but.

It’s a stupid question, you both know it. He willingly gave your number and here he was, playing dumb, as if he didn’t cause his own demise. But he knows why he's asking. He wants to hear what you have to say even if he's uncertain of what answer he wants.

You shoot him a glare, rolling your eyes, and he bites back whatever he has to say. You tell him words you know he’s not brave enough to.

“Oh, and hey. Thanks for saving my ass, by the way,” you spit out, the words laced with mockery. The comment cuts through the tension in the air, aimed straight at him.

He hears the jingle of keys, watching as you dig into your pocket. With a click of a button, your car comes to life, the lights illuminating the dark parking lot. The light bounces off of the wall and gives him a better look of you.

You push yourself up, straightening your clothes out before stopping right in front of him. Your eyes are still narrowed, but he can’t help but stare as you finally answer his question. There’s something in your expression that he tries to understand. “You used my name and gave my number willingly. I only came here to sign papers and that’s all that this is.”

There’s no room for argument, no space for whatever conversation he’s trying to conjure. You don’t wait for a response, breezing right past him before you slip into the driver's side, the engine sputtering to life.

He watches, frozen in place, caught between staying or leaving. He stands there stupidly for a few moments before he makes his way to the passenger side, his hand grazing the cold metal of the handle, finalizing his decision.

꧂

The car ride is mostly quiet except for the song playing through the radio. Your attention is focused on the road ahead while he stares outside the passenger window, both of you pretending the last fifteen years never happened. The sun is slowly rising over the horizon, the sunbeams bathing the clouds in an orange glow. They pass by several different buildings and rolling hills, the scenery blurring as it slips by.

He’s not sure what to do. His hands are on his lap, splayed out, and his body stiff as he tries to ignore your presence next to him. Finally, you speak, cutting through the stillness of the air.

“Where am I taking you?” You ask, your voice flat as if it was a transaction.

“Downtown,” he replies. It’s vague, but he can't risk you anywhere near the farm. “Anywhere is fine.”

His gaze shifts from the window to your face, just for a second. You nod, still not sparing him a glance as you continue to focus on the road ahead.

The silence stretches again, longer this time. Every breath feels too loud, the humming on the radio grating on his nerves, and the passing scenery doesn’t provide enough distraction. He can hear your fingers drum against the steering wheel and somehow, it brings him comfort that he’s probably not the only one feeling this way.

“So you never left town,” you speak again, this time with a hint of bitterness masked by casual indifference. It's not a question or an accusation, but a tired observation.

He fiddles with the hem of his jacket, “No.”

A humorless laugh escapes your lips, almost as if you’re in disbelief but you don't press on.

“Figures.”

The place begins to feel a little familiar as you take a turn. He recognizes several buildings and though he knows the ride is nearing its end, he finds himself struggling to speak. An apology rises in his throat for a second, but it doesn’t sound right. He tries to remind himself that he left you as an act of mercy, not as a choice.

Somewhere through his self reassurance, he speaks.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come.”

You don’t respond right away, letting the words linger in the air as you drive a couple blocks down. When you do decide to spare him an answer, you sound defeated.

“I didn’t come for you,” you murmur, as if speaking to yourself more than him. “I just came to see if you were real. Wanted the reassurance that I wasn’t crazy.”

You exhale slowly, as if trying to compose yourself before continuing on, “I sent you years of voicemails and when I didn’t receive anything back, I thought I made it all up. That whatever we had wasn’t real. Then all of a sudden, you call me out of the blue--”

He sees your grip tighten on the wheel, your knuckles turning white.

“--and I needed to see you to prove to myself that it wasn’t all in my head and that I wasn’t dreaming. Just this once.”

You finally glance at him for the first time during the whole car ride, a flicker of something he recognizes flashes through your expression-- the younger version of you, staring back at him as if you both were children again.

“And now I know. You’re real and you always have been. You just chose not to contact me.”

He wants to argue back, to defend himself and explain his reasons, but there’s nothing he can really say to alleviate the situation. At the end of the day, he’s responsible for the rift between you two. Even if he did have good intentions, none of it outweighed the damage he’s caused.

Besides, it’s not like he could tell you the truth even if he wanted to. You’d only avoid him more after you learned about the blood on his hands. So he just stays quiet and you refuse to wait for him to find the words.

Soon, you pull into a parking lot of a plaza, the closest to downtown you can get. It’s barren, save for a few cars probably dining in early in the morning after their graveyard shifts or after a night out in town. The sunrise is more visible now, casting soft, filtered light through the window, illuminating your face in a way that makes you appear fragile.

“I just needed the reassurance that I wasn’t the only one who remembered,” you say, you voice final and he watches, knowing that this’ll be the last time he’ll see you. “Just consider this repayment for how things used to be between us. For you taking care of me.”

He’s dreamt countless times for this exact moment where his chase would end, the closure he needed in the palm of his hand. He’s imagined hearing you say it, the final word that closes the door for good, but now that it’s actually happening, it’s not what he expects.

He doesn’t feel the relief, doesn’t anticipate his chest to tighten, and how his body numbs at the words that leave your mouth.

But he has nothing left to say because he knows it's better this way. There's no excuse, reason, and comfort he can bring you that’ll land right. You’re waiting for something from him but all he can do is spare you a nod, an unspoken agreement between you two.

The background noise fills the space where a goodbye is supposed to be. His hand reaches for the door, feet meeting with the pavement below before he takes a full exit. You’re turned away, refusing to spare him a final look and he does the same, closing the door completely before walking away from your car, creating distance.

William only stops when he hears you pull out, but doesn’t turn to look back when he hears you drive away. When he’s sure you're gone, he stays where he is, swallowing thickly.

꧂

Time moves slowly when he isn’t preoccupied with the sound of your voice. William tries to pretend the world keeps spinning, but it becomes an increasingly difficult task as each day passes.

The machine that held your voicemails collected dust as the weeks dragged on. He refuses to touch it, not wanting to give into the temptation of hearing you again. He’s aware of the agreement you both settled on and promises himself to not backtrack but it feels impossible, like holding onto something that keeps slipping out of his grasp. Only this time it's different.

It was supposed to give him peace of mind, release the guilt trapped in his chest but in truth, it only makes things worse. One encounter with you and the walls he’s been building for years finally crumbles beyond his control. All the effort he put into burying his past comes rushing back in and he tries his best to push it back down, unable to confront his emotions.

At first, he tries to drown himself in farm work. He throws himself into chores, physically straining ones, and even takes over Jackson's portions in an attempt to lose himself in the motions. His brother notices, but he knows better than to say anything.

When that fails, he takes up the more mundane tasks in the house, hoping the simple routine would help, but it only gnaws on him more. His thoughts catch up with him faster this way, a constant ache that’s unbearable.

Soon enough, he turns to hunting, hoping that pursuit of something can relieve the pressure building in his chest, suffocating him to no end. Unfortunately, it doesn’t do much. Even with the gun in his hand and his knife tucked securely in his pocket, the release he craves is absent.

Eventually, the dreams kick in, ripping off the band-aid that he desperately tried to keep intact. At first, they’re infrequent, flashes of memories-- childhood moments spent with you, when times were simpler and his sole responsibility in the world was you and Jackson.

Then it escalates to something more vivid and beyond insufferable. The rejection you left weighs on him like a vice, and what he thought was supposed to be an easy separation only haunts him further.

He’d wake up during odd hours, a cold sweat clinging onto his skin, his heart racing uncontrollably, as if he’s still trapped in the chaos of the dream, chasing ghosts he’s not supposed to. When he does manage to find to indulge in a full night's rest, the weight of his unresolved feelings pulls him deeper to exhaustion.

Three weeks pass before the final dream drives him over the edge. He’s sprawled out on the couch in the dark, disorientated, eyes wide in a fit of panic. As soon as he grounds himself, the heels of his palms dig into his eyes, your name slipping from his lips in a restless, desperate groan. That’s when he realizes he’s no longer able to endure it.

He’s had enough.

꧂

William leaves the woods before dawn, when he knows Jackson is fast asleep and won’t catch him in the act. He finally makes use of his shit truck rotting in the back, driving into the dirt road and straight into town, not too far from where the farm was. His truck moves without direction, searching for the nearest payphone and when he does find it, he pulls in slowly against the curb.

His hands grip the steering wheel harshly, trembling and undecided. He realizes he doesn’t have a plan--just your name, number, a pocket full of quarters he stole from Jackson’s piggy bank, and the pressure of fifteen years he’s fucked up pressing against his chest like a vice. He leans his head on the cold leather of the steering wheel, letting out an audible groan before he musters up the courage to step out, shutting the door quietly.

The cold morning wind hits him and he instinctively buries his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. He scans the streets, ensuring that he’s alone, unwilling to risk any wandering eyes. Once he verifies that there's no one else, he drags himself to the rundown booth, shoving open the glass door before stepping inside. It’s poorly lit by the streetlight above, but he could fucking care less at this point.

Then he digs into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a handful of quarters and feeds them into the machine slowly, as if each coin will delay the inevitable.

He still doesn’t know what to say when he dials your number-- the digits repeating in his head effortlessly, his finger hesitantly pressing each button. It’s like muscle memory, even though it’s the first time he’s putting in the effort to initiate a call.

He presses the receiver against his ear, the line ringing and he knows it's too late to back out now. Turning back now would do nothing but prolong his torment, knowing that this call has to go through one way or the other.

It rings once, then twice, and by the fifth ring, he feels humiliated, close to slamming the phone down, but a click on the other end stops him.

Then he hears your voice, groggy and confused, through the static.

“.. Hello?”

He feels his jaw clench and his hold tightens against the receiver. Any harder and it might’ve shattered in his hands. He doesn’t say anything at first, his voice caught in his throat but when you call out to nothingness again, he forces himself through the invisible wall that's preventing him from moving forward.

“.. It’s me,” he says, his voice low and almost embarrassed.

He wondered what you looked like right now, trying to picture your reaction. Maybe you were confused, possibly furious, but deep down, he hoped you felt the same kind of relief he felt upon hearing your voice.

“Will?” You say and he swears he hears the hint of surprise in your voice, laced with something hopeful, as if you were waiting for him to call.

“Don’t hang up,” he says quickly before you can fully process the situation.

He hears shuffling on the other end, hyper aware of your presence, and soon you let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“I thought we agreed to cut ties for good.”

He feels himself shrink at your words. He closes his eyes, trying to ground himself, searching for the strength to continue the conversation. He wasn’t good with words-- never has been his whole twenty-eight years of living.

“I know,” he mutters reluctantly, “I know what we fucking talked about, alright?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he can’t help but put it in a way where he's able to deliver the message without hanging up the phone on himself. The silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again.

“I just..” his mouth opens then closes, struggling to find the right words. Somehow, he forces them out. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you showing up again and just ruining my fucking life.”

He didn’t want the sentimentality that it came with, the rawness hidden deep inside. So he says it like it pisses him off, like you’re an inconvenience, when it's anything but that.

“I thought it would help if you were the one closing things off for good, but it only made everything worse.”

Nothing comes from your end and he shifts uncomfortably in the booth, his stature too large for such a cramped space. He runs hand through his hair, gripping it in exasperation before exhaling sharply.

“I know we made an agreement. I’m not gonna beg, I don’t do that shit, but I need to talk to you. Properly.”

When the silence remains, he almost takes it as a rejection, the humiliation creeping up, the booth suddenly feeling suffocating. A part of him that wishes you were here so he could shake an answer out of you.

The thought is broken when you speak, your voice hesitant and uncertain.

“William--”

“Don’t say my name like that,” he snapped, unable to bite his tongue this time around. You sound like you’re about to reject him, comfort him into sticking with the decision, and it doesn’t sit right . He catches the sharpness in his voice, the tone he always used whenever things got on his nerves and forces himself to soften it. “Just.. don’t.”

“You’re confusing me,” you murmur, a hint of vulnerability peeking through. “You left me hanging for so long without a word and now that I’ve decided to walk away, you suddenly want to come back. I don’t understand what you want.”

“I don't know,” it's his turn to sound unsure, the words low but loud enough for you to hear. “Five minutes. Somewhere that’s not this. Not through this shitty call.”

He doesn’t have a plan but he knows he needs to talk this out with you. He doesn’t like how long you take to respond, but when you do, he feels himself relax a little knowing that you haven’t hung up on him yet.

“Where then?”

“That diner,” he says without a second thought. “You know which one I’m talking about. The one your mom always brought us to.”

There’s a long pause before you answer, your voice hushed when you do, “Yeah, I remember.”

He swallows hard, the heaviness of it settling on his shoulders.

“Meet me there at eight in the morning. Whether you come or not, I’ll be there.”

He hangs up the phone just as fast the words leave his mouth. He knows that if he hears a “no”, he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not with the way things were going.

He takes a second to recollect himself, leaning his forehead against the glass pane of the booth, his breath fogging up the window. The dial tone buzzes in his ear and when it gets too loud and he begins to process the predicament he's put himself in, he places the receiver back into place.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

heyy! so ik u have a lot of requests n stuff so ill just leave this message here for when you can read it :)

ill give you 40 pounds of cookies if you give an happy ending to that james ff where the reader is in a coma.

A/n: I think it's a great ending that you will definitely love

Warnings: Angst, amnesia, yelling, smut, not much just quick descriptions, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1, part 2

After walking out on his 'girlfriend' James went straight to the hospital, listening to her crying for him to stay as he walked out of the house. She didn't deserve to cry, what was she crying for? She had a house, she was breathing and awake, she'd never seen him with his face bash into the road. She didn't deserve to cry.

He left her wailing and went to find you, making a quick stop at a store to get you flowers. Your favourite, of course he remembered. He'd bring you a bouquet and watched the doctors take away your breathing, your blood, your organs. He'd watch them disperse you among the hospital and leave him with nothing. As much as he deserved for what he did to you.

James navigated his way through the hospital to the ICU and made his way to your room, only to find it empty. He shook his head in disbelief, scanning around in a panic. "Where is she?" He muttered to himself.

A nurse walking past had heard him and ventured in to talk to him. "Where's who, sir?"

James head snapped to the nurse. "Where's who- my-my wife, where's my fucking wife?! You weren't supposed to take her off life support until I got here, where the fuck is she?!" He yelled, unable to temper his emotions. You were gone, just gone!

Security was called to get him out of the room, to give him a moment to calm down. The doctor that had been helping you found him in the nearest waiting area and explained it to him; you were fine.

"How-how is she fine, she was dying, you were gonna kill her." James babbled, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes again. He didn't want you dead, obviously, but this was out of nowhere, as much as he didn't want to admit it he'd accepted that he'd never hold you again, he knew he'd never be able to love you again, but that had changed.

James walked through the plain white halls, following the doctor as he explained further. "Sometimes they just get better, your partner wasn't braindead just in critical condition." They turned a corner, nearing your room. "However, there is something-" James couldn't be bothered to wait, the second he saw you through the glass he burst into your room.

He collapsed beside the bed, sniffling as he held you, burying his face in your chest. "You're alive, oh my god..." He looked up at you with wet cheeks and glassy eyes. He reached up and cupped your face as you stared down at him with a less than thrilled expression. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sweetheart... I'll fix this, I-I'll fix everything, ok?" He assured, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

There was a moment of nothing, of silence, then you finally spoke. "Who are you?" Every part of James shattered in just three simple words. Your voice was hoarse from the breathing tube and lack of use, your gaze was foggy and your mind wasn't all there.

"It's me." James said, exasperated. "It's Jamie, it-it's me, sweetheart... don't you remember me..?" He pleaded for you to remember him, needing just that. You were his everything, hate him if you must you had to remember him at the very least.

"Amnesia is not all too uncommon." The doctor spoke, standing in the doorway. "Sometimes it goes away, sometimes it doesn't, there's no telling how long it'll last." James couldn't listen to it anymore, you were here, you were out of the ICU, he could touch you and talk to you and you'd respond. In theory, you weren't talking much, even after the doctor left to let you talk.

James went on and on, getting more desperate as he recounted your memories together, only to be met with radio silence. "You don't remember me..?" He muttered, squeezing your hand. You shook your head and pulled your hand from his. You were awake but at what cost? You didn't hate him, but there was no love in your eyes when you looked at him.

You were supposed to be sent home, James, although not legally involved with you, managed to get you home with him. The car ride home was... different. "You never liked this music." He said in a lighthearted tone, knowing everything would be confusing to you right now.

You gave him an odd look and turned to the window. James chewed his cheek and turned on something he knew you liked, glancing at you every few minutes to see if you liked it but you didn't seem to care at all. He tried to rest his hand on your thigh but you'd shift uncomfortably under his touch so he'd pull his hand away.

Since that night when you finally had enough he hadn't gotten rid of that pain in his chest, that bomb he'd set there went off that day and he never recovered. Now you're awake, and it was all he'd been waiting for, and it only made that pain worse.

James pulled into the driveway after the long ride, you hadn't said a word. His girlfriend's car was there right next to his, it was nice and red, a newer model. He'd never buy you a car, that's what he would always say, that if you wanted a car to get a job, work for it. He bought her a car. "Stay here." He said, turning to you, instinctively leaning in to kiss you but you pulled away. He stared at you a moment longer before getting out.

The house was a wreck, pictures and broken glass all over the floor, furniture array. The upstairs hallway where yours and his shared room was, at the end of it lay his weeping woo. Her body shook and she'd dressed herself in his clothes, aching for his closeness. She looked up at him for help but was met with the cold glare you'd grown used to.

"Get out." He bit, footsteps getting harsher as he approached her. "Get the fuck out of my house!" He reached for her arm once he was close enough, all she did was beg for him to calm down, for him to talk to her, let her explain, anything. She was lucky he wasn't pulling her by her hair, this was a kindness he was doing. Dragging her by her arm, letting her keep his clothes and the car he'd gotten her. She could be worse off.

You watched as this strange man yanked a woman forcefully from what you could only assume was her own house. He was yelling and pointing, hitting the car and screaming at her to leave until his face went red. She was crying in her car, body still shaking but she managed to get it going and drive off, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

James was heaving while she drove away, his breathing uneven. He looked to you in the passenger seat of his truck and his breath stopped. You were terrified watching him, the way he grabbed her, dragged her, threw her in her car, it was all very violent and now he just stood there. You'd been in the car with him through traffic, all the way home, and he was capable of such terrible things. Worst of all, he knew that wasn't the worst of what he was capable of.

He slowly walked to the door and opened it, not yet reaching for you. "I'm sorry." He said simply, unable to tear his gaze away from your expression. "I'm sorry you saw that, she, uh," he swallowed thickly. "I needed her out, she was supposed to leave a long time ago... she wasn't supposed to be here to begin with..." His words weren't helping in the slightest, you were just sitting there shaking.

He reached over you to get the seatbelt, as soon as it unclicked you tried to make a run for it. He just barely caught you and held you tight to his chest. He buried his face in your neck, breathing shaking slightly. "I'm sorry, I really- I really am sorry, I can't let you run away, I-I fucked up before and I can't let that happen again." His voice broke, you didn't remember a thing and he was supposed to fix this, help you trust him and love him again and he was messing up at every turn already. Your scarred face was just another reminder of it all.

James carried you slowly into his house, bringing you upstairs to what had been your shared bedroom. He laid you down on the bed slowly, having already locked the door just in case. "You-you've got clothes in here, so you don't have to be in... that." He said, gesturing to your bloodied clothes from that night. He waited a moment for you to move but you didn't so he went to the closet for you, getting some clothes for you to wear instead, including a shirt of his he knew you used to love, not that he could remember the last time you wore it.

He left to room to let you change, heading down to the kitchen to get you some real food, you were looking so skinny since the hospital. You came down while he was cooking, keeping your distance when you saw him cutting up some herbs.

James smiled over at you when he saw you approaching, hesitant as it may be. "I'm making spaghetti." He said, gesturing to the pot of water boiling on the stove. "You used to love spaghetti." You nodded slowly, the gesture was nice enough. You still kept your distance, James didn't miss that.

His cutting slowed down until he stopped completely and looked up at you. "What can I do to make you feel safe?" He asked, a desperation in his eyes. He couldn't watch you be scared of him anymore.

You shrugged, looking around. "Do you-" You cut yourself off, not having expected your throat to be so raw. "Do you want help cleaning?" You asked after swallowing, hoping that would help some.

James looked around at the mess of the house. "No, I-" He stopped himself, thinking about it. "Yeah, actually... I'll make food and then we can clean, how about that?" You nodded, still nervous but settling in a bit.

James started giving you everything at any time, he was doing his best to make you love him again, and this time he would keep it that way. What you say went, he didn't pay for someone to clean or cook anymore, he did it with you instead. You didn't like the clothes in the closet so he got rid of them -stuffed them into storage because he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them, that was you, that was who he loved. He went with you to get a whole new wardrobe.

When it got easier for you to move around, rehabilitated after your prolonged stay at the hospital, James started taking you out on dates. You didn't know what you liked so every week was different, a fancy restaurant, a cute café, a picnic on a ledge, staying at home and watching a movie. All the while he slept across the hall to give you space, the one time he tried getting in bed with you it felt so wrong, you didn't say anything but you were tense and didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep either, so he slept across the hall.

Each month you got better, not remembering anything but finding what you did like. He saw you smiling brighter each day, getting more excited to do things, to find things. He got to watch it all, pushing down the pain of losing who you once were until it was like it was never there, but it was.

After another movie night James walked you back up to what had been your shared room, he liked walking you there because he couldn't walk you home. You'd gotten comfortable kissing him, that took about a month. Now it had been almost five, five months of him sleeping alone, wrapping an old shirt of yours around a pillow and holding it close until he'd finally cried all his tears and fell asleep. Five months of watching someone else smile in your body, knowing you'd never come back home the same.

He cupped your face in his big, calloused hands and leaned down to kiss you. You brought a hand to the back of his neck, holding him closer while the other hand went to the door handle, pushing it open. James pulled away, expecting you to leave him again, but you led him back with you into the room.

"What're you doing?" He asked, not pulling away. It felt like years since he'd last been in this room, though he came in every morning to get a change of clothes. This time felt different.

"What do you think I'm doing, James?" You asked, letting go of him and walking to the bed, pulling your shirt off as you went. James's jaw fell.

"You're not..." He trailed, watching you get onto the bed, taking your pants off.

"Oh, but I am~" You purred, tossing your pants off the edge of the bed and spreading your legs for him to see your choice of lingerie, nothing. A comfortable night in was the perfect occasion, worst case scenario you were a little bit freer that night.

Luckily things were looking your way as James stalked closer. "You're sure?" He asked, hesitating before getting on the bed and crawling over you.

You nodded, hand snaking down your body, spreading yourself for him to see just how wet you were. "I'm sure, Jamie." You purred, just to be pounced on.

James had to remind himself to be gentle, he'd nip your neck or thrust into you just a little bit too roughly. It made you moan louder but he didn't trust that's what you wanted. He took it slow, rolling his hips into you. The room filled with your airy moan, his deep grunts as he did everything in his power to not fold you in half right then and there.

When you came it was like the first time all over again, your whole body relaxing into the sheets, eyes rolling back, pure ecstasy pouring over you. James helped you ride out your high, prolonging it until your body was trembling underneath him, but he didn't bother continuing until he was done, he had to focus on you.

Instead he rolled over and pulled you to his chest, hoping that was ok. You rolled over so you were facing him, nuzzling into his chest as his arms wrapped protectively around you. "Not gonna cum?" You asked, looking up at him as you reached between your bodies to jerk him off.

He pulled awkwardly away from your touch and caught your hand before you could make contact. "No! No, I-I'm fine." He assured, bringing your hand back up and holding you tighter, more securely against his chest.

"Are you sure?" You asked while James traced shapes on your back. James nodded.

"I'm sure." He assured, kissing your forehead and smiling sweetly down at you. He was comforted by the almost normalcy of the situation.

Things only seemed to get better from there, you'd go out with your friends, Metallica got to work on another album, James was sleeping in your bed again. A year after the incident, as you called it, James refused to speak of it, things were almost perfect. You were still different than the person James used to know, but you were there and you loved him.

You were in the kitchen, making dinner for when James got back. Everything was frustrating him, Lars, he kept making mistakes, Lars, drivers, also Lars. He slammed the door shut behind him and trudged over to the kitchen where you were.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek. You smiled warmly and returned to kiss. "Thank you." He said softly.

"Rough day?" You asked, reaching up to scratch his head. James inhaled deeply and nodded. "Food's not gonna be ready for a bit yet, why don't you go shower?" You offered, looking to him, only to be met with fiery, furious eyes.

"Why isn't it ready?" He asked, his voice taking on a much harsher tone than he should've, he knew it right away.

"Sorry, I got carried away, forgot, but I'm making it now." James stared at you for a long moment before walking away, towards the stairs. He came back down a minute later, a determined look on his face.

He got real close to you, so close he could grab you if he wanted. He was studying you. "You forgot?" He asked, voice coming out rough. "How the hell did you just forget?"

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on the pot. "I just did." You said simply, voice soft. James took in your words but he wasn't convinced, you weren't reacting like you normally would, well, you were reacting like you normally would, before the accident, like this was normal and all fine.

James slammed his hand down on the counter. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you!" He yelled, finally seeing your eyes. Tired. He turned and walked away, only making it to the bottom of the stairs before he came back. "Remember when I was talking about Cliff last week?" He asked. "Do you remember when I said he died?" He asked, Cliff had been the one thing you could not bring back, that one person you could never remember. He always tried getting you to remember him again but you just couldn't do it.

"September twenty-seventh?" You answered, pretending to have thought about it for a minute. James stood there in disbelief.

"You remember?" He asked, taking a few steps closer. "You remember everything and you just forgot to tell me?!" He demanded, making you look back at the pot. "Look at me!"

"You were doing so good." You said softly, mixing the sauce. James stared at you, he'd been doing so good, he'd been so loving and caring with you, and in one fell swoop he ruined everything all over again. "I think I'm gonna head to my parents house tomorrow, Jamie." He stared longer, feeling a heavy weight sinking onto his chest.

James shook his head. "I'll go..." He said weakly. "I'll go." He repeated, slowly trudging upstairs. He made it halfway to the top when he heard a jingle, he whipped his head around to the front door where you were standing with your keys. Tears stung his eyes and he shook his head. "Please." He muttered, taking a step down. Seeing you weren't moving he took another, you reached for the handle and he bolted down the rest of the stairs.

The door closed in his face.

[undead-moth]

I guess 2 Old 2 Guard was about exactly what I expected the whole time. I can’t say it disappointed me because I never had my hopes very high. It wasn’t as good as the first because it fucked with the formula in ways it didn’t need to and didn’t say anything new about any of the characters. But I can’t say I hated it. It was good to see them in action again.

Anyway.

The bad (booo):

- The unnecessary retcon of how their healing works (shit definitely just grew back if it was lost in the first movie)

- The name Discord (“Sounds ominous.��� No actually it sounds fucking stupid)

- learning more about the nature of their immortality (the whole first and last immortal birthmark thing in this movie was annoying for me. I liked it better when their immortality was a complete mystery. I liked it better when they had no control over it. Thematically I think it works better too.)

- The birthmark itself (it wasn’t needed for the whole first and last plot point thing and just draws attention to the fact that Nile didn’t have it in the first movie)

- There’s another immortal Andy didn’t tell anybody about (yet he supposedly saved her when Quynh was put in the Iron Maiden. Joe and Nicky never like…asked about that? Why was Tuah there? Why was he cool with Discord knowing about him but not Quynh, Joe and Nicky?)

- Contradicting the dream mechanic (In the first movie, they ALL dream of Nile’s first death and explain to her they dream about the immortals they haven’t met. Only Nile canonly dreamed about Quynh that we know of, but Joe, Nicky and Andy all met Quynh and I believe it was a generally accepted theory that Booker probably did too he just didn’t say so because it would crush Andy. Now for some reason the dream mechanic only applies when it’s convenient.)

- Andy’s not the first immortal and somehow how none of them knew this (This yet again contradicts the dream mechanic. It’s also just like, you know, it was already unrealistic when we thought it was Andy, but now we’re supposed to believe that an immortal even older than Andy was white and blue-eyed?)

- The extremely convenient immortality-transfer plot point that was very conspicuously introduced

- Characters using English when there’s no way they’d use it, and even when there’s no way they’d be understood (When Quynh shows up at the nuclear facility in Indonesia, she yells “Drop your weapons!” to a bunch of people who are heard speaking a different language and realistically don’t speak English)

- We barely get to see Booker reunite with the others before he dies. (This might be more personal preference than any other complaint, but we got to see how Booker interacted with Andy when he knew he’d lost his immortality and would die. I wanted to see him having a knowing moment with Joe and Nicky too, and get an idea about how he feels about this being the end of his time with them. Same with Nile really - instead he only interacts with her long enough to get cut. It makes it seem like Andy is the only person who mattered to him and that’s shitty.)

- Nile is conveniently out of commission for basically the entire climax of the movie. (They were literally like “What do we do with Nile? If Nile’s there to help then none of this other shit happens…uh…let’s just break all her bones, I guess.” It’s also just annoying how competent she already is, fighting toe-to-toe with people centuries older than her. Not doing any of the reckless ill-thought-out shit she did in the first.)

- Really cruel cliffhanger. (In the first movie, they specifically ended it on a satisfying enough note that if they didn’t get a sequel, it wouldn’t matter. They did this because they knew a sequel wasn’t guaranteed. For some reason, they were like, “Let’s not do that this time, even though it’s even less likely to get a sequel this time. And while we’re at it, let’s make it the worst possible scenario to not see resolved.” And then oh look at that. It’s not getting a sequel. Christ ffs.)

The good (yaaay):

- Seeing Nile be close to Andy and caring about her so much

- Andy being like “I haven’t seen art this bad in centuries”

- Joe being bad at lying to Nicky

- Nicky being more committed to the exile than Joe

- Tuah being like “How old are you?” and Copley being like “I’m 43” and Tuah being like “Impressive.” (I know it was played off as a joke but there was a part of me that was like actually I’m interpreting this as him being 100% serious because when Tuah was young, before he died for the first time, the average life expectancy was probably like 25 and he didn’t make it to 43 in his first life and he probably still thinks in those terms to a certain extent, and maybe liked having the opportunity to remind Copley what amazing times he lives in.)

- Booker showing up and being like “Come on, guys, are you still doing the silent treatment thing?” when “silent treatment thing” refers to an attempted hundred year exile lmaoooo

- how Quynh words how Andy’s abandonment makes her feel (I loved everything she said. It all felt so real and human and was worded so beautifully, especially in her note)

- Andy and Quynh fighting

- Joe and Nicky making up and having their tender moment. I also like that Joe canonly fears that they might die. Obviously that was present in the first movie too, but the different immortals’ points of view on death was thematically more relevant in this movie and I like that Joe wants them both to keep living. They’re not sick of life yet. They still want time to be together and love each other.

- I knew that Quynh was supposed to come back wanting revenge on humanity and I sort of dreaded that this movie might get really cartoonishly villainous about it and it wasn’t like that at all. It felt very grounded to me, and I was relieved that at no point did it seem like either the narrative or anybody else blamed Quynh

- The juxtaposition between Booker’s take on the meaning of time and Discord’s.

- Andy and Quynh being tender at the end.

(- Edit: And Nicky calls Joe Yusuf!!!)

So I guess, all in all, it was okay. The first movie was better but it always is. Hoped for better, feared worse. Still love the characters. 🤷‍♀️

[fernslivers]

I BEGGGG for the mordern Mizu contunuation from the begining 🙏🙏🙏 or any hc along with it, anything. I live for it (all your works, but this one specificly 🫠)

YOU GOT IT ANON

HERES MODERN MIZU Pt 4 (i think)

(And thank you anons for your patience, I see you!! I'm moving halfway across the country in two months so everything is crazyyyyy)

You guys are awesome!! Please, keep the requests coming! I know I take forever but they are so fun to work on!

TW: passing mentions of sexuality, illness

Mizu When Reader Gets a Cold

The first sign of trouble is the day Mizu is sitting at her laptop in the kitchen, and you come stumbling out of your room, hair crazy, blanket over your shoulders.

Both of you stare at each other in surprise.

She knows damn well you have classes all day today

She got home in the early hours of the morning, crashed for a few hours and assumed you had left already.

She's almost never home when you're home

Because her crush is starting to get really bad and she's panicking

So you weren't expecting to see her just hanging here.

“Oh- … hey,” you croak, and her eyes widen before narrowing

“... You're sick.”

“Eh … s’fine. Just a day cold thing.”

You don’t expect her to make a fuss, and you want to keep it a minor thing

You're shocked when she stands up abruptly.

“You're supposed to rest when you're sick.”

“I just needed some water–”

“I'll bring it. Go back to bed.”

Her tone brooks no argument.

You go, though you're completely mystified by this sudden, terrifying nursemaid you've acquired.

Truth be told, she's surprised at herself, too.

She's not normally very nurturing, but you’ve come to mean so much to her.

She can't stop fretting (not that she lets you see that).

She actually almost never gets sick, so she's not really sure what to do.

She calls everyone she knows

Well–almost everyone

Ringo of course is full of food-related remedies

But they are backed up with a surprisingly in-depth amount of medical knowledge

Akemi recommends pampering: “make her feel like a princess, let her rest and not have to do anything”

Taigen shouts in the back of Akemi’s call that Mizu should try some supplement someone was hawking on Reels

Akemi tells her to ignore him

(She was already planning to)

Eiji has several more traditional recipes and suggestions

He also, of course, recommends staying active

“Do not let the body rest too long, the congestion will settle and stay longer. Work is a remedy.”

Mizu shudders a little at some childhood memories that THAT statement brings up

She even calls Madam Kaji. The woman has surely nursed many girls with the goal of getting them back on their feet fast, so she MUST know effective remedies.

Madam Kaji is blunt as ever:

“orgasms”

Mizu goes red, while remaining stoic on the phone: “I'm serious. This is not the time.”

Kaji sighs. “Orgasms release feel-good chemicals to the brain. You want her to feel better? Give her a hard infusion of oxytocin,” she purrs, voice dripping with innuendo.

Mizu hangs up abruptly.

(Madam Kaji laughs herself silly with her girls, imagining Mizu’s flustered expression.)

(Truth be told, she just uses OTC cold medicine.)

With you fully unaware, dozing in your room, Mizu paces

She's got no idea which one is going to be most effective

With her usual dogged determination, she decides she'll just try them all until one seems to be working.

Well–except the sex one. She should have known better than to ask Madam Kaji

Truth be told, she'd be happy to help with that one … but she doesn't think you'll go for it

So that's how you find yourself shuffled out to the couch where she can keep an eye on you

You try to protest, worried about getting her sick

But it's Mizu. A barreling train would barely slow her down.

You're banned from getting up for any reason, except for one supervised walk around the apartment every hour, in deference to Sword-Father.

If it weren't so bizarre, it would be hilarious how Serious she is about all this.

She gets you blankets, food, hot tea, medicine, ice cream, ginger ale … all the pampering things

But she gets them for you with the same Intense Focus and silence that she uses when training, or hunting leads on her father, or studying.

Brow furrowed, jaw tense, words sparse.

It is sweet, though, if strangely out of character for her.

She did hand you the remote and tell you to put on whatever you like to watch

But it's kind of hard to focus on the TV when piercing blue eyes keep appearing around the doorway to the kitchen, or over the top of her laptop from the other chair in the living room.

At one point, you innocently get up to use the bathroom…

…

“What are you doing?”

JEsus

God, your HEART

She just materialized out of nowhere

You think she might have actually scared the cold right out of your body for a minute

“Why are you getting up? What do you need? Sit down, I'll get it.”

“I need to PEE, Mizu. I don't think that's something you can do for me.”

She gets a bit huffy, but she can't really argue

She hovers around you the entire way to the bathroom with her grumpy-cat expression, her eyes sharp on your every shuffling step.

She's so close behind you that she's the thing most likely to trip you.

You stop at the doorway. “Do NOT follow me in here.”

“I wasn't GOING to!”

(The jury is still out on that ...)

“Just– … call me if you think you're going to fall.” She calls through the door.

Miracle of miracles, you somehow manage to use the bathroom without keeling over.

She hovers the rest of the way back to the couch.

At one point, you see her take a call–she looks so serious that you assume it must be business or school related.

Then, she hangs up: “Ringo is bringing soup.” She tells you, as though he were bringing over Serious Documents.

You can't help but smile.

Despite the unconventionality, she's so Mizu that it’s intensely charming.

Not to mention how strangely special this is all making you feel.

Nobody has ever fussed over you like this, and her unusual intensity makes you feel like your comfort is genuinely important

This is also the most attention she's paid you in a while, and it's good to have her close again

Even if she won't let you really talk

She says you need to rest your throat, but of course, it does help with deflecting awkward questions

Like where she's been disappearing off to lately ...

Later in the evening, after Ringo has delivered the biggest vat of soup you've ever seen, you end up falling asleep on the couch.

Mizu puts her laptop aside, and quietly watches you sleep for a few moments

Your face is so peaceful, and it's been so good to be sharing space with you again

All day she's been wondering why it's Madam Kaji's advice that won't leave her head.

She's long since accepted her crush, but with it being such a hopeless case (she thinks), it should have fizzled out by now

Instead, she spent her whole day caring for you and she doesn't even mind that it set her plans back and used time she can't spare

She doesn't even question that it was worth it, and that scares her a little.

Sighing, she gets up and pads over to readjust it blanket to cover you better

Then, she hesitates.

This is the closest she's been to you in a long time.

She can feel your warmth where her knuckles are brushing against your shoulder, smell your unique scent.

You look so … vulnerable. She knows how fragile human life can be, better than most. But you trust her, even after everything you've seen of her life.

… maybe she should spend more time with you.

Yes, the crush is hard, but you've been so accepting, she knows she's been pushing you away lately.

You're precious to her, and she truly doesn't want to lose you.

After another brief hesitation, she says your name softly, checking that you're asleep.

When you don't stir, she leans down and presses her lips to your forehead, just softly.

The way she can just barely recall Mama doing for her once when she was sick as a child, one of her happiest childhood memories, one of the only times during that period before Eiji that she felt safe.

She doesn't know how to take care of people. But she's going to try fucking hard for you.

With another sigh, she walks into the kitchen to get some more soup for herself now that you're asleep.

As soon as she's out of the room, your eyes open

What the hell was that?? Did she just–

From the kitchen, you hear a slight sneeze.

Well.

Shit.

[lvsrckk]

how he got the girl

||*. aphrodite! reader x percy jackson

warnings: none ! super cute

summary: part two of “how you get the girl” featuring percy and readers first date ;)

it started with a note.

you’d nearly missed it, distracted by the way percy had looked at you when he walked in (like you were something he was still getting used to being allowed to love.)

when you opened the note, the handwriting was unmistakably his: slightly messy, dark ink, and the tiniest stain on the corner.

meet me by the strawberry fields around sundown? -p

you nearly choked on your toast.

your siblings noticed immediately, of course. piper screamed. mitchell clutched his heart. drew started frantically suggesting outfit options before you’d even put the note down.

and silena?

she just gave you a look that said, finally.

by the time the sun started dipping low over camp half-blood, you were a mess of butterflies and lip gloss. your cabinmates had done a full outfit consultation, settled on a pink tube top, light wash jean shorts, and delicate gold earrings, and kissed your cheeks for good luck before sending you off like you were walking down the aisle.

your hands were still trembling when you reached the edge of the strawberry fields.

he was already there.

percy stood among the tall, sun drenched vines, hair wind tousled and dark against the golden light. he wore his camp shirt and a pair of jeans, but somehow he looked like something out of a dream—your dream.

when he saw you, his whole face lit up.

“hey,” he said, breathless like he hadn’t expected you to look quite like this.

“hey,” you replied, trying not to trip over your own nerves.

he held out his hand. “walk with me?”

you nodded and took it.

his hand was warm. steady. he held yours like it was something precious.

the two of you wandered through the fields, your fingers laced together, the sky painted in streaks of soft orange and rose gold. every so often, your shoulders brushed. each time, your heart did a little somersault.

“so,” he said after a few minutes. “i wasn’t sure what the official aphrodite cabin approved first date was supposed to be, so i figured… strawberry fields and then something kind of sweet and simple.”

you smiled. “this is perfect.”

he looked relieved. “good. because the other option involved blackjack and an ill-advised ride over camp with a picnic basket.”

you giggled. “i think you made the right call.”

he squeezed your hand. “i wanted tonight to be calm. like… just you and me.”

“it already is,” you said softly.

you stopped near the far edge of the field where a picnic blanket was spread out beneath a willow tree. a small lantern flickered beside it, casting a soft glow.

there were two plates of food—grilled sandwiches, fruit, and blue cookies that looked suspiciously shaped. a bouquet of wildflowers sat in a mason jar in the center.

you blinked. “did you…?”

he shrugged, bashful. “i had a little help from annabeth. and grover may or may not have scared away some satyrs to grab us a good spot.”

“percy,” you breathed. “this is…”

“too much?” he asked quickly. “i know i’m not like—i mean, you probably get swept off your feet all the time. i just thought maybe if i—”

you leaned in and kissed his cheek, stopping his ramble mid word.

“this is perfect,” you whispered.

his cheeks turned pink. “okay. good.”

the two of you sat under the willow tree, eating and talking. it wasn’t fancy. it wasn’t some grand romantic gesture with roses and fireworks.

but it was real.

he asked about your childhood. you asked about his mom. he told you about the first time he accidentally flooded a school bathroom. you told him about the time you tried to charmspeak a monster into giving up and it just started crying instead.

you laughed. you touched knees. you shared cookie crumbs and inside jokes and secret looks.

at one point, percy leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the sky.

“do you think… this is allowed to last?” he asked quietly.

you tilted your head. “what do you mean?”

he didn’t meet your eyes. “i’ve spent so much of my life fighting. like, every time something feels good, something bad comes right after. like i’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

you were quiet for a moment.

then you reached out and took his hand again.

“maybe,” you said, voice soft. “but maybe you’re allowed good things too. maybe this time… it’s just something good.”

he looked at you then, eyes wide and blue and full of something unspoken.

“you think so?”

you nodded. “i do.”

and in the quiet that followed, you could feel it. the moment wrapping around you like a ribbon. soft. delicate. warm.

after dinner, you walked again. not far. just through the fields and down toward the edge of the lake, the moon climbing high over the water.

you sat on the dock together, bare feet dangling, hands linked.

percy cleared his throat. “can i tell you something?”

you smiled. “always.”

“i used to see you at the campfire,” he said. “like, before. and i’d think—i wish i was someone who could make her laugh like that.”

your breath caught.

“percy,”

“and then we talked. and you were so kind, and real, and i just… i didn’t know how to say any of it. i was scared.”

you reached out, cupped his cheek. “me too.”

his voice dropped to a whisper. “i’m not scared anymore.”

your heart felt like it might actually burst.

you leaned in slowly.

he met you halfway.

the kiss was soft. steady. sure.

his lips were warm against yours, his hand cupping the side of your face like he never wanted to let go. you kissed him like you’d been waiting forever, like the world had been holding its breath and finally let go.

when you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“i really like you,” he said.

you laughed, breathless. “i really like you too.”

you stayed like that for a while.

curled into each other, the stars above, the lake glittering below.

you didn’t talk much after that. there wasn’t a need to.

sometimes love didn’t need big words or bigger plans.

sometimes it just needed one night. one kiss.

and a boy who made the world feel safe.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

you woke up to the sound of birds and the gentle lapping of water against the dock.

and percy jackson.

asleep.

next to you.

his arm was still loosely wrapped around your waist, your head resting on his shoulder, the sky above just starting to blush with morning light. the air was crisp and smelled like lakewater and pine and something sweet. maybe the wildflowers still messily tucked in your hair.

you didn’t move right away.

how could you?

he looked so peaceful, mouth slightly parted, lashes soft against his cheeks. you could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, feel the way he’d tucked you close sometime during the night without either of you realizing.

you’d fallen asleep on the dock after your first date.

well, technically, your first date had ended with a kiss under the stars and whispered promises neither of you had wanted to break by walking away.

so you’d stayed.

talked.

held hands.

curled up.

and somewhere between “what’s your favorite color” and “do you think the gods are watching us,” you both drifted off to sleep.

your cheeks burned. your heart thudded.

this was real. last night had happened.

and now it was morning.

and you were so very, very late getting back to your cabin.

you gently peeled yourself away, trying not to wake him, but percy stirred anyway.

his eyes blinked open, sleep fogged and soft.

“hey,” he said, voice raspy.

you froze. “sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you,”

he reached out, laced his fingers through yours again.

“don’t be sorry,” he murmured. “you’re still here.”

your heart did an actual somersault.

“i should sneak back before silena has a heart attack.”

percy grinned. “good luck with that.”

you leaned down, kissed his cheek. “wish me luck?”

“always.”

you tiptoed back through camp, barefoot and glowing, dodging a few early risers and one confused looking harpy. your hair was windswept, your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t stop smiling.

until you reached the cabin door.

it creaked open slightly before you even touched it.

silena was waiting. fully dressed. fully smirking.

“good morning, sunshine.”

you froze in the doorway. “…hi.”

“out all night, were we?”

you stepped inside like you hadn’t just kissed the most perfect boy in camp and fallen asleep in his arms under the stars.

“we fell asleep on the dock,” you said quickly. “it wasn’t like—”

“mhm,” silena said, clearly not buying a word of your panic. “did he kiss you?”

your face went up in flames. “silena!”

“i’m taking that as a yes,” she said, tossing you a fresh shirt. “put this on. your lip gloss is smudged and breakfast starts in five.”

“you’re evil.”

“proudly.” she hummed.

by the time you walked into the dining pavilion, cleaned up, hair freshly brushed, and lips pink with gloss, you’d nearly convinced yourself no one would notice.

and then percy looked up.

he was sitting with grover and annabeth, halfway through a bowl of cereal, when he caught your eyes across the tables.

his whole face lit up.

you ducked your head, biting your smile, and slid into your spot with your cabinmates.

drew leaned over. “soooooo. how was it?”

“magical,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself.

and when percy walked by your table a few minutes later, he casually let his hand brush yours.

you looked up at him.

he winked.

and suddenly, you didn’t care who knew.

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

[brodyfoxxsmassivetits]

meant to work on literally anything but instead drew a dubiously shmibibically accurate angle Eduardo.. sure whatev

strange creature... strange weeping.. sad... grieving creature

idk why he's like that I just draw

[sourscratched]

play it by ear s2 scribbling

[oh-no-its-bird]

Looking through my fics, specifically the ones left open ended w vague plans to continue them when I find the time/energy:

Its very important to me that u guys know that the endgame for Here Before and After Me (aka the kid Kakashi gets zapped to the warring states and picked up by half-Hatake Tobirama) if I ever got so far as to write it, would be Konoha being founded without Izuna's death + possibly Hatake involvement

And Kakashi, being literally 6 and terrified of fucking up the timeline, also still not having told anyone ab the time travel, sees Izuna's continued survival as a potential threat against the future and tries very hard to kill him in increasingly comedic ways as everyone trips over their own feet in their attempts to stop him + help him get over his inexplicable hatred for the Uchiha clan heir

(The fact that he almost comes close to it a few times does nothing to help Izuna's ego.)

[sweetmapple]

“Where are his eyes?”

“Exactly where they’d always been”

🔥🔥🔥

Can’t banish this man from my psyche

Expect panopticon drawings 😋

[sidesteppostinghours]

ok. question.

ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?

[clumsypuppy]

axolotl

[xxplastic-cubexx]

How would you redesign Headmaster Magneto? Just out pf curiousity because while he served it didn’t feel like… Erik.

i have to keep it 100 i have no idea without just. rerunning his original design but with a palette swap LOL but we try around here

[moldy-flowers]

The interesting experience of being pro Sasuke, anti konoha, pro tobirama, anti Naruto ending, pro Sasusaku, anti Itachi, pro Sakura, anti SasuNaru, pro Tobirama×Izuna, anti Madara, pro karin, anti Orochimaru, pro Uchiha and anti Hashirama. And also as much as I hate the guy danzo was kind of hot when he was younger...