#it just makes me laugh. imagining dale looking through the window.

[elles-writing]

Daughter Moments

Request: Hello! I’ve read your imagines they are sooo good! I was wondering if I can request a Kili x daughter reader? The ploy can be anything you want but the reader has to be kilis daughter pls? Thankyou!!❤️

Requested by @imagines4everyone

A/N: First of all, thank you so much!! I hope you will like it!

Then also...The ending is my favourite.

Triggers: mentions of injuries, scars, angst, feels (if there's any more, let me know please!)

Tags: @guardianofrivendell @dumbassunderthemountain @imagines4everyone

Kili took a deep breath, as he looked over Dale. The town was beautiful, and he was lucky to be able to look at it during sunrise, every day, before he had to get back to his duties.

He felt the soft wind, running through his hair, and sun glittered in his deep brown eyes. He thought of his wife and daughter, and his mouth had soft dreamy smile in second.

When Kili came back to their shared chambers, he noticed Tauriel, gently stroking their ten months old Y/N's cheek.

"How are my two beautiful girls?" He chuckled, and his eyes were soft, as he looked down at his daughter and wife.

"Papa!" Y/N suddenly let out, and Tauriel and Kili looked at each other in shock and surprise. Their daughter just said her first word!

"You did it, Y/N! You did it!" Kili cried out, and started dancing across the room with his daughter in his arms. You giggled, and Tauriel watched the moment with tears in her eyes.

Five years later

"Papa?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?" You frowned, when you noticed your father.

Kili was trying to make a surprise for Tauriel - his wife's birthday was a very special day to him, as well as your birthday - and this year, as any other, it was something sweet. Last year he made her a pair of twin daggers and got all her favourite sweets from bakeries around Dale.

This year, he decided to bake a cake.

Needless to say, it was very funny.

To watch, obviously.

You sat up on the chair, and Kili put his hands on his hips. You looked into the bowl, and giggled. You tasted a bit of it, and frowned.

"Uncle Fili said you can't bake, daddy." You shook your head. Kili nervously looked at you.

"What did uncle Fili say?" You looked at your dad, and decided to tell him everything.

"Well, Uncle Fili said you cannot bake, and that you only eat in the kitchen, and he was right," you said. Kili looked at the light-coloured dough.

"It is salty," you said, and Kili's eyes widened. He slapped his forehead.

"I really switched sugar and salt," Kili sat down to the table, and put his chin on his hands. You wanted to say something, but you noticed his eyes were filling with tears. You jumped off of the chair, and walked to him.

"Why are you crying, daddy?"

"I'm not crying," he said, and got up.

"Can I help you?" You gave him your best puppy-eye look, and Kili sighed.

You just had to get this from him.

"Okay."

When you finally finished the cake, the sun was rising, but you and Kili fell asleep, sitting by the table.

The finished cake was, however, worth it.

Twelve years later

"What did you say?" Kili frowned at you. You shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Kili's usually kind brown eyes had a spark of anger in them.

"That I don't care about you."

"Oh, this. Well, because it's true! You literally make any guy run away from me, and then you make me stay inside! How am I supposed to get to know at least one?"

"You have still enough time for boys." Your father shook his head, as if he tried to get out the idea of dating out as quickly as he could.

"Fine. But if anyone asks, it's your fault," you said half-upset, half-joking.

You almost opened the door, when you heard your father speak.

"You know I want you to have someone who truly loves you," you turned around.

"I...I, um..." Kili deeply sighed. He felt a bit of guilt about the misunderstanding.

"Sit down, please." You did as he said, and he gently took your hands to his.

"When I met your mother, I knew she was...the One. My One. I fell for her even more, when we talked for the first time. And a few years later, there was also you. I was holding you after you were born, and I promised I will make sure you will have the same kind of love, the person you will roll your eyes at, but know you wouldn't want them any other way."

"Dad, I-"

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried about you and want the best for you, but...the problem is, that in my eyes, nobody is good enough for you. I know you think it's the other way, but, it isn't. At least to me." You felt tears in your eyes.

"What do you think...mom would say?" You quietly whispered, as you felt tears in your eyes. He took a deep breath, probably to try to stop tears, too.

"Your mother would...secretly agree with me, but let you...let you go on an adventure, as long as you promise you are safe." Kili blinked to stop a tear, and sadly chuckled.

"You never know who you meet on an adventure."

You took his hands into yours, and gave him sad smile.

"She is alive. Trying to find her way back, from the orcs. Mom is a fighter."

"I believe too," he said, and looked outside. The sun slid across his face, and made his eyes spark, and showed you the way they used to shine when your mother was still there.

It's been a few months since you and your father talked, and you were on a ride from Hobbition. You liked to visit Bilbo and Frodo, and, as always, told each other news. When you almost got to Rivendell, you noticed someone lying down - with red hair. You stopped your horse, and jumped off of it.

You felt a rush of shock, when you realized who it was. She was full of cuts, but breathing.

You got to Rivendell safely, and when Lindir saw you, you let out just a whisper.

"Help her,"

You had no idea how did you end up in the working space of lord Elrond.

But, having soft blanket over your shoulders and sipping warm tea, after the shock, you wouldn't complain.

"Can I see her?" You whispered. Lord Elrond talked to a healer, and both of them looked at you.

"Your mother is asleep now," the healer carefully said. You nodded.

"Is she-"

"She is alive. We cleaned her injuries, and luckily, they were not even infected yet. You found her just in the right moment." You let out a breath. It felt like a huge weight fell off of your shoulders.

"Get some rest, princess Y/N. It will be good." The healer said, and helped you to get to other chambers, you guessed for guests. You laid down to bed, and fell asleep. You didn't even notice the healer turned around in the door, and slightly bowed, before he walked away.

You woke up into bright sunlight. You realized it was afternoon, and when you properly woke up, you found out you slept almost whole day and night.

When you took a bath and changed into light dress, you decided to go ask healer how was your mother doing.

You carefully knocked on the door. Someone slowly opened the door, and you realized it was the healer you already knew. After a short talk, he told you to get some rest. You decided to listen to him.

You didn't expect to fall asleep next to the bushes of lavender in Rivendell gardens, but the sweet, calming scent was strong.

You woke up with slight headache, and sat aside from the plants. You watched the sunset, and yawned. You also realized you haven't eaten whole day, and looked around for some fruit. You got up, and soon you found a few servants, who were actually looking for you, and as they mentioned dinner, you had no more questions.

At the dinner, you noticed the male healer you met earlier. You blushed when he noticed you looking at him, but he didn't do anything. Later, he catched your eyes again, and send you a tiny smile. You felt yourself smile as well.

After the dinner, Lindir walked you to your chambers. You took a bath, and when you got dressed, you opened your window and put a pillow and a blanket on the floor, to continue watching the sunset, and look at the stars. The sky was bright, and the fresh air made you feel lot better.

You got back to bed, but left the window open.

Your felt familiar smell, as you woke up. For a moment, you were five again, in your chambers in Erebor, and it was your birthday. Only other thing was the itchy feeling on your arms and legs.

Damn mosquitos.

"Mum?"

"I didn't mean to wake you, wildflower," you gasped and sat up, wide awake.

It was really her. Your mother, her red hair shining in the morning sun, looking at you.

Her face was full of cuts,which were in process of healing, and fading scars. Her hair was literally chopped off, now down to her chin.

Her green eyes were, however, full of motherly love. Just as you always knew them.

"This-this is a dream!" You let out a cry. She hug you tightly, and let out a cry too.

"I'm so glad you're safe..."

"What happened to you?" You whispered, as your arms tightened around her, afraid of it being just a dream.

"The orcs prisoned me, I tried to escape, but I was weak and didn't have any weapons. This time, I was finally lucky," she whispered, as she brushed your hair by her fingers.

"I'm here, Y/N. I promise it isn't a dream. I was fighting to run away every single day, and nothing could keep me away from you anymore."

Later that day, you sat down, to write a letter to Erebor.

Dear father,

I had to stay in Rivendell for longer, but, as you will find out - it was worth it...

Two years later

"Kili," Tauriel frowned at her husband. Kili looked at his wife with raised eyebrow.

"It's a boy, Tauriel!"

"And?"

"She's my little girl! She was born like...yesterday," Kili wiped off a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Well, our little girl is having a lovely partner. You will like him." Kili's eyes widened, and Tauriel tried not to laugh.

"You already met him? And didn't tell me?!"

"Well..." Tauriel would roll her eyes. Her husband was literally freaking out.

She didn't have the heart to tell him the reason you went to Rivendell or Mirkwood was because of your love, not because of political...anything.

Before she answered, you walked in, nervously smiling at both of them.

"I have, um...someone I want to introduce to you," you said. Your mother nodded at you with smile, and you sighed and patted your father's shoulder.

"It's fine, dad." You opened the door, and 'the elven healer from Rivendell', as you knew him two years ago, walked in.

"Mum, dad...this is, um, my boyfr-"

"Nice to meet you," Tauriel said, but looked at her husband by the corner of her eye.

"So...you are the elf my daughter is courting," Kili said, and you looked at your boyfriend. Him and your father were watching each other, and you gently took your lover's hand into yours, worried they might start fighting. Until...

They both broke a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Prince Kili. Y/N has told me a lot of good things about you."

"Y/N, would you come and prepare some tea with me?" Your mother asked you, and you both got out of the room.

You listened their conversation, talking about your meeting, and, your dad's, and your lover's, favourite - archery.

"I can't believe it!" You said, whispering.

"I know," your mother tried to hold in laugh.

"They literally-"

"Yes. Seems like they go along well."

"Now my dad will spend more time with my lover than I do," you pretend to be dramatic, but secretly you thought if it wouldn't be better if they didn't like each other.

You walked back in the room, with cups with steaming tea.

"Don't worry. Both of them know who are the best archers in the family," Your mother gave you a smile, and you proudly nodded, as you placed the cups down on table.

"That's not true, I always let you win!" They said at the same time, and you and your mother shared a look.

Later that day, you were with your father in the gardens. He was enjoying the quiet evening, and you were reading.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"You know...you said, about boys...that nobody would be good enough for me. In your eyes."

"Yeah." He nodded, and turned towards you.

"So, um...what do you think, now when you met my boyfriend?" You nervously waited for his answer.

"I think...I would never expect to say this, but...I approve him." You let out a laugh.

"Just because you're both good at archery?" He rolled his eyes.

"I wanted to say he seems to be very nice, but that too. We gotta keep the skill in family, don't we?" You shook your head and snorted with laugh.

"As well as recognizing elf men and elf maids." You started laughing when you noticed your father's wide eyes and flushed cheeks under his beard.

"Who told you that story?"

"Well...Uncle Fili has told me many interesting stories from your adventures," you said. Your father quickly stood up.

"Uncle Fili will quickly be reminded of what does it feels like to have younger brother," Your father muttered, as he walked inside the castle.

[cleanlenins]

Ectober Day 4: Glitter

Bottled Beauty: Reasonable Rates

A new shop opens in the mall. It sells amazing products that make you more beautiful. The prices are fair, as Paulina finds out.

AO3

Warnings: None

A new store opened in the Amity Park Mall, and no one knew how it got there.

One day, there was nothing there but a wide expanse of plaster wall, adorned with a few flyers taped and torn. The mall closed down at half past eight. The guards and workers closed down by nine. Doors locked and no one entered.

When security opened the doors again the next morning, they stood in awe of the new addition. Wide glass windows displayed a varied assortment of unusual goods. Shiny bottles of makeup and perfume. Glittering combs and brushes. Sparkling collections of hair pins and clips. Face masks and nail polish and hair oil and scented powders.  Jewelry of every type sparkled in the bright led lights that flooded the store. Beautifully embroidered scarves and accessories were hung with meticulous care along the walls.

Security was flabbergasted. They had heard nothing about this store. Nothing reported to them. They called it in, asking CBL if it was legit. The radio replied that yes, all paperwork was in order.

Bottled Beauty was open for business.

Paulina was frequently at the mall. What better place was there for her to be? There were so many stores for her to peruse, so many things to buy. People could marvel at her perfection. And the Ghost Boy tended to appear there all too often. A bonus. As familiar as she was with the mall's set-up, she immediately noticed the new store. She smiled in delight when she saw the products through the window and eagerly walked in.

It was even better than what she had imagined. Paulina was awestruck. She merely stood there, eyes drifting from item to item.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” A voice asked. Paulina turned at the sound. A person stood there. Paulina could not tell if they were a man or a woman, but she marveled. They were beautiful, dark hair framing their face with a waterfall of curls. Lovely green eyes sparkled with glitter eyeshadow, smiling wide with perfectly full lips. They stood there, dressed in a glittering button down shirt, a small box in their hand.

“Oh, I was just looking. I’ve never been here before. It’s amazing,” Paulina whispered reverently. The glittering person nodded.

“Thank you. We here at Bottled Beauty pride ourselves in spreading beauty at a reasonable rate. What is worse than looking at an ugly world?” The employee grinned as they sat the box on the counter. Paulina nodded in agreement. “Was there anything you were looking for in particular?”

Paulina shook her head.

The employee hummed, tapping their finger against their chin as they examined her. Paulina fidgeted under the stare, but was once more mesmerized by the brilliant green eyes. They walked closer to her, merely inches away. Paulina stood straighter as they got closer. The employee’s eyes gleamed as they stared down.

“My dear, do you know you are very nearly perfect?” They purred. Paulina blushed.

“Really? I mean, of course I am,” She preened. The employee grinned again, green eyes bright. They reached up and gently grasped a strand of hair.

“Only nearly, my dear. But we can fix that,” The employee clarified. Paulina could not bring herself to be offended. “You have such thick hair. So dark, like the night. Many people would be jealous to have such hair. But it must be so difficult to manage. The frizz alone would be a full time job. Am I wrong?”

Paulina thought back to the hours she had spent on taming her hair. How difficult it was every morning to get the perfect style. How she had to pay for so many conditioning treatments to keep it from puffing up in an unmanageable mess.

“You’re right,” Paulina said. The glittering person dropped the strand of hair and stepped away.

“I have just the thing,” They called over their shoulder, walking into the store. Paulina hurried to follow. They stopped at a display of different combs. The employee plucked one, showing it to Paulina.

“Comb your hair with this and you will be able to style it any way you wish,” They said. Paulina’s eyes widened in wonder. “Whether you choose to wear it curly, or straight. Up or down. It will go exactly as you want it.”

“That sounds too good to be true.”

“But true nonetheless. If you are unsatisfied, you can always return it.”

Paulina wrinkled her brow.

“How much?” She asked. The employee tilted their head.

“For you, I would take a laugh,” They said. Paulina blinked in confusion.

“A laugh? You just want me to laugh? That’s all?” Paulina repeated in disbelief.

“At Bottled Beauty, we believe in reasonable rates. A fair price for fair folk,” The employee put their hand over their heart. “And we so crave perfection, something you are so close to already.”

Paulina laughed in delight at the compliment, given from someone so pretty. The store owner handed her the comb and bid her farewell.

Paulina combed her hair with the comb, and wondered at the results. Her hair was perfectly shiny after only one stroke. She preened as her classmates gawked, tossing her hair over her shoulder for emphasis. Dale was so starstruck that he walked into the school’s front door, tripping all the way down the stairs. All of the A-list laughed at his expense. Except Paulina.

She returned again to Bottle Beauty, quickly looking for the employee.

“We thought you would be back,” A voice whispered right next to her ear. She turned eagerly.

“The comb was perfect, so I had to come back,” Paulina said. The employee laughed.

“We are glad you are satisfied,” The employee chuckled. They examined her again. “Your skin is nearly flawless, my dear. But I am sure you already knew of the flaw there?”

Paulina touched the mole on her cheek, the one her Papa never let her get rid of. That makeup could not hide. She had played it off over the years, but still it grated on her nerves to see it in the mirror. The employee led her to another aisle, this one filled with different creams. They grabbed a selection.

“Cover your face in this cream, and all blemishes will be removed, no matter how big or small,” They held the cream out with a flourish.

“I didn’t know anything like that existed,” Paulina said happily, looking over the cream. “How much?”

“For you, my dear, how about some cheer. You seem the type to be a cheerleader, yes?” The employee said. “Does that seem a fair price to you?”

“It’s a bit weird, but sure,” Paulina said. She gave the employee her best Casper High cheer, to which they applauded with enthusiasm.

Paulina hurried from the shop to try out her new cream. It worked like magic, her complexion even more perfect than she had ever dreamed. The mole was erased away as if it were never there. The few pimple scars she had concealed were gone as well. It even erased a small scar she had on her finger, just from where she had applied it. She wanted to dance around her room with joy, to cheer this new development in her life. But she didn’t.

Paulina returned again. The employee was leaning against the counter when she entered.

“It is so good to see you again,” The employee cheered her entrance. Paulina grinned back at them, showing off where her mole used to be. The employee eyed it with approval. “How can I help you today?”

“How do you think you can help me?” Paulina teased. The employee laughed brightly, smiling back at Paulina with fondness.

“I wonder if any have come as close to perfect as you, my dear. Let’s see how I can help,” The employee gently held Paulina’s hand and spun her in a slow circle. “My dear, there is only one thing that mars your perfection. Follow me.”

The employee led Paulina once more into the store, hand still clasped in hand. They came to a display of different makeup. The employee picked up a small container of eyeshadow. It glittered. The employee held it next to their own eye. It matched the shade they wore.

“As you can see, I definitely recommend it,” The employee said. “Wear this, and you will show no signs of aging. You could be sixty, and you will look as you are now. It may be one of our pricier products, but you will not be disappointed.”

Paulina looked at the small palette with greed.

“How much?”

“For you, my dear, I want only your name,” The employee said.

“That’s fair. My name is [        ]” [       ] said, an uncomfortable feeling rippling over her skin as she took the small palette.

“I am glad you are satisfied,” Paulina responded with a laugh, green eyes glittering with joy and something more.

Bottled Beauty: Reasonable Rates

Fair Price for Fair Folk.

[guardianofrivendell]

Stalker

Kíli x reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: mentions of a fight, stalker things, bad writing because I was rushing

A/N: I don’t know what I was thinking... but here is a silly Kíli fic. I reposted this a couple of times because it didn’t show up in the tags at first. I apologize to my followers for the “Stalker”-spamming (although it fits the theme, doesn’t it :))

"You did not!" you gasped, looking up from your book and staring at your other half. Kíli just stood there, silently pleading with his eyes for you to let this go but you weren’t going to. Not this time. He couldn’t say he didn’t expect this reaction.

"Kíli, you already had a council meeting today and every day for the last three weeks! Can't you sit this one out? You promised!" you complained. You had every reason to complain; he and his brother, uncle and some members of the company had been trying to renew trade agreements and other important things with nearby kingdoms for the last couple of weeks. They weren’t going according to plan and he spent more time in the royal halls than he did with you. You understood how important this was for him, and that he had to be there as the Prince of Erebor but weren’t you important too?

To make it up to you, Kíli promised you’d have a quiet evening tonight, just the two of you. But you guessed those plans were cancelled now... "I know, amrâlimê. Trust me, I know and I’m truly sorry… But you know how uncle gets when these things don’t go as planned. Dain isn’t cooperating at all, they’re both so stubborn! Fíli is trying really hard to compromise but you know he can’t do anything without me there," he smiled trying to lighten the mood.

You huffed. You knew you were acting a little childish, but you had been looking forward to a night to yourselves. "It's just... I stayed in Erebor so I could be with you but you're never here. I think I spent more time in these chambers by myself than I got to spend time with you!" Your eyes traveled back to the pages of your book.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you are avoiding me…" Now it was Kíli’s turn to scoff, and he went through his hair with both hands. An obvious sign he was starting to get frustrated. "Now you are overreacting, Y/N. You know I love you more than anything and I love spending time with you. But we had some problems with the numbers and stocks, so uncle and Dain wanted to do another run through tonight. Just to make sure," he explained. "You can come if you want?" You shook your head. "No, thank you. I'll only be in your way and I wouldn't want them to think I am the controlling type." He snorted. "Oh, don't worry, they already think that." When he saw your eyes widen, he raised his hands. "I'm joking! I'm joking! But I do have to go, amrâlimê. I really am sorry for tonight,” he said. He kissed your head and brushed his hand over your cheek. “I promise I will make it up to you." Before he closed the door to your chambers he said, "Don't wait up!" Great... home alone. Again.

You looked outside the window into the dark night and sighed. It was well past midnight and still no Kíli. Your thoughts began to take a turn for the worst and you started to feel a little homesick. You left everyone in your hometown when you joined the quest all those months ago. Your friends, your family, ... back home you didn't have time to spare, you were always busy. But here in Erebor you had way too much time on your hands. Especially since you were by yourself most of the time. Getting betrothed to a prince didn’t help either. You weren’t allowed to go out by yourself – for your own safety according to Thorin – and everything was done for you by the maids. You tried to help them at first by making the bed or doing the laundry yourself, but Kíli had explained to you that the maids considered this to be an insult. It gave them the idea you weren’t happy with how they handled everything. So you had apologized profusely and let them do everything for you. Even though it went against everything you believed in.

If you were in your hometown right now, you’d probably go for your nightly walk. You found walking at night to be relaxing, almost comforting. No sounds, no people, ... just you and your thoughts and nature. But you couldn't do that here, could you? You thought about it for a moment. And why shouldn’t you? You didn't know your way around Erebor and Dale that well, but you recalled a little path not far from the main gates that led to the Dale lands and forests. You went there once with Kíli so you could probably find it on your own, and get some much needed fresh air. When you get back, Kíli might have returned from his meeting.

You pulled on a coat and heavy boots and headed out the door. It was fairly easy to get out of Erebor without being seen. The guards at the front kept an eye on people trying to get in, not the other way around. When you walked in the direction you thought the path was, an uneasy feeling came over you. As if someone was watching you.

You shrugged your shoulders, thinking your mind was playing tricks on you but you picked up your pace nonetheless. Now where was that path again...? Just when you were about to give up, you spotted a small path that led you away from the Lonely Mountain, to a small forest. It wasn't the path you were looking for, but it would have to do.

A sudden noise made you turn. You saw a silhouette walking a couple of feet behind you; dark clothes, hood, ... Everything about this figure screamed danger. You quickly ran over the path and disappeared between the trees. Why did you always have to do these things? What were you thinking going out alone? You ran your hands through your hair and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. But the noise of someone walking on the stone path made your head snap up.vYou cursed under your breath. The hooded figure walked over the path in front of you and headed straight towards you.

You started running deeper into the forest and you heard their pace quicken as well. Your daggers! You started tapping your thighs and chest before you realized you left them in your chambers in your rush to get out. "Alright, Y/N, it's up to you then," you whispered. You could easily defend yourself, you’d fought in many wars before. But that was different, you had your weapons back then. Now it was dark and if they were armed, you had no chance.  

You hid yourself behind some bushes and waited. As soon as you got sight of your stalker, you flexed your muscles and got ready to jump out. They halted not far from you, close enough to hear a male voice say, "Where did she go?" "Right here!" you yelled while launching yourself at him. Although he was much heavier than you, he fell to the ground immediately. You climbed on top of him and started punching with everything you got. He tried to get you off of him, but you gave him no chance.  

"Stop it!" he yelled. "Y/N, it's me!" At the sound of your name, you froze. You quickly stood up and took a few steps away from him. Your 'stalker' held a hand over his eye as he slowly stood up. "Mahal, Y/N, you got a good right hand!" "Kíli?!" you gasped. He threw his hood back and started laughing. Now you could see his face and you felt instant relief and regret. "Oh no, I am so sorry!" you said and you hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you and chuckled. "Well, I can say I am feeling a little better now knowing that you can defend yourself when you’re unarmed."

You looked at his face and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. "It is already starting to swell. We should go back, I need to take care of this," you said.

By the time you got back to Erebor, his eye and a part of his left cheek was starting to bruise. "I hope they're not going to be mad at me..." you said, scared of the reaction of Thorin and his brother. "Nah, they wouldn't do that to you. What I'm afraid of is that they wouldn't let me hear the end of this. I got beat up by my own girl who is not much taller than a hobbit!" You slapped his shoulder in protest.

"Then why did you follow me in the first place?" you asked. "Are you kidding me? I was on my way back to you and I saw you leaving in the middle of the night! Of course I would follow you, something could've happened to you!" "You worry about me?" you whispered. You weren't used to this kind of affection. Long story. "Of course I do. Y/N, I love you! I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you!" Kíli said while he started stroking your hair. "We should get some sleep, you probably have another meeting tomorrow..." you sighed.

He picked you up and walked through the silent hallways to your chambers. You looked at his face and started laughing. "What?" he asked. "You look like one of those pirates from Bilbo’s stories!" you giggled when you looked at him and his black eye. "Oh, I'll show you what this pirate can do, kurduwê!" he growled while kicking the door open with his foot.

A/N: I’ll leave the rest to your imagination...

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​

[catyo90]

The Hunt: Chapter 52

Thorin awoke first to see Y/n sleeping peacefully as he carefully moved his hands away to place a light fur blanket over her making her snuggle into it like a babe with its mother. He smiled at the sight of her. He looked out the window to see the sun beginning to set, almost on cue he heard footsteps by the door. It was Dwalin who walked in and spoke but not before Thorin hushed him as he pointed to Y/n sleeping form. Dwalin nodded and whispered.

“Kili and Fili claim they saw the armory as we were headed here. I say we sneak in now and grab whatever we can carry. This Bard fellow is of no help to us and we have no time to waste.” 

Thorin said nothing as he looked out the window toward the lonely mountain. He nodded.

‘Let Y/n stay here. She needs the rest.”

Dwalin said nothing as he looked over at Y/n.

“You think her safer here then? You know she’ll be quite upset.”

Thorin just looked at him. Knowing he was right.

“Alright then Everyone is ready. We should hurry.” 

Thorn nodded his head as Dwalin carefully left the room as not to wake her. Thorin walked over to her side and leaned over placing a light kiss on her forehead bringing a soft hand to hair and gently stroking it making him smile at the sight before him. His hand lingered for a moment, he sighed as he left her side and closed the door to the room. 

-

The sound of a door bursting open made Y/n awake and immediately noticed Thorin was gone. She looked outside to see the sky had turned dark as she walked out of the room and saw bard down the stairs catching his breath. She saw Bain immediately run up to Bard 

“Da! I tried to stop them-”

“How long have they been gone!?”

Bard looked up the stairs to see Y/n was still in the home. He rushed up to her and spoke.

“Where did they go?!”

“I swear, I have no idea. I only just woke up, i thought they would still be here.”

Bards younger daughter Gilda spoke. 

“It’s true Da, they asked us not to wake her.”

Bard looked over at y/n and then to his children.

"make sure she does not leave. I'll go look for them and make-"

Before he could finish his sentence she ran past him clinging her cloak close to her as the sounds of a crowd nearby echoed out. As much as she tried she seemed to have found herself lost through the crooked paths. It wasn't until she had actually seen Bard run past a small alley pushing through the large group.

She followed after him and squeezed through trying to reach the others. She could see and hear Thorin speak to the crowd as how he would return the City of Dale to it's glory and that the people of Lake town would gain riches more than they could imagine.

Aa she neared the others she saw a big fat man on the stairs behind Thorin speak.

"and can anyone other than your dwarf friends vouch for you?"

The crowd started to murmur as Bard was silent. She was about to speak until a hand shot up and the sight of Bilbo made her smile as everyone turned to face him.

"I'll vouch for him. Thorin Oakensheild will keep his word to you and your people.

Y/n watched as the people cheered as Bard shook his head. She looked up to see Thorin nodding in thanks to the hobbit. She smiled to herself as she started to join the others.

That night the baron of Lake town had offered a feast for the dwarves and a night of plenty drink and rest was needed for them.

But for Y/n she seemed troubled by what laid beyond those mountains. Or rather what slept inside. The thought of facing Smaug made her shutter as she wrapped her arms around herself as she watched the others enjoying themselves. She decided to retreat for night into one of the rooms the baron offered.

But sleep was far from her mind. She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed opening the parchment from her medicine. Reading it over and over again she began to fear not for herself but for their child.

She wanted to tell him. But she felt afraid. An alpha with an omega is one thing but an omega with child. That causes even more problems. One that she dare not introduce. Especially now.

Her eyes looked up through the window as another fear opened in her mind.

She suddenly heard the floor by the door creak open.

She saw it was not Thorin but Bilbo. She sighed a small sigh of relief as she gestured for him to join her. Bilbo closed the door and walked over to her. He struggled a little to get on the bed but managed and smiled to Y/n looking at her hands to see the small bit of parchment. She hadn’t fully noticed he saw it until he asked.

“What's this?” Bilbo said pointing to the paper.

Y/n was silent. She tried to think of anything. A letter, a reminder or even a scrap or some lost paper. But as she turned her head to explain she found herself unable to lie to him. He had done a lot for the company and everyone was treating him as a friend. She knew what she had to do.

“Bilbo...I need you to tell you something. But none of the others can know. Do you understand? Especially Thorin...at least for now.”

Bilbo adjusted himself and nodded in understanding as she passed the paper to him to read. With every word he read a thousand reactions happened in his mind. He turned to her and looked down at her stomach.

“Your...Your pregnant? With child. Oh...oh my goodness what am I doing you need to rest. Do you need anything?”

Bilbo got off the bed and started to ramble on. Y/n smiled but quickly and calmly took his hand and spoke.

“Bilbo...Its alright. I feel fine. Its only been a few weeks. I should be fine for a awhile.”

“But Thorin...He should know. He should know about your condition.”

Y/n shook her head as she explained.

“Bilbo, Thorin is an Alpha. If he were to find out that I, his Omega was pregnant. He would be too defensive of me...even beyond reason. He would clash head with everyone in the group. Especially Dwalin since he is one as well.”

“But-”

“He could even hurt you. You are very kind to everyone in our company but any gesture of kindness toward me, to him would be seen as a act to seduce. No matter how small the gesture. You must not tell him. Please Bilbo...Promise me you will not say anything to him.’

Bilbo sat their silently the only thought of what would happen if Thorin found out that he knew before him. But as he looked into her pleading eyes. He sighed and nodded as he smiled to her.

“Well I may not be able to tell them. But I can congratulate you on such remarkable news.”

He said hugging her as he rubbed her back and started to laugh and smile to make Y/n feel better. 

"I actually started to wonder if you were... Back when we encountered those spiders."

"You could understand them? how?"

Immediately Bilbo realized the ring was how he knew. He laughed it off and pretended to be a little intoxicated.

"well then y/n. Tomorrow will be a long day. And as a hobbit who knows the joys of comfort. You should rest til then."

Y/n nodded her head in agreement as she started to settle into the bed. And could hear Bilbo leaving and just as he was about to close the door until he noticed Dwalin with Thorins arm over his shoulder. Dwalin said nothing for a moment but laughed and said.

"Ah. You help the nice one of the pair. Hahaha. Well help me get him into bed."

Dwalin laughed as Bilbo opened the door a bit wider. Y/n sighed as they help Thorin into bed. She gently laid his head on the pillow and moved a few hair strands away from his face. Bilbo felt Dwalin rest an arm on his shoulder and walked both of them out and asked Bilbo if he had ever seen Bombor drink two barrels at once.

Bilbo quietly shut the door behind them leaving Y/n and Thorin to rest in peace. As she laid there she felt Thorin move a bit and saw him open his eyes. He was clearly still drunk.

"ah, Y/n did you sneak into my chambers."

"no dear we are sharing a bed, you were brought here." She said softly as she brought a hand to his face. Smiling at seeing him still able to have a good time. Well at least once a month. Thorin brought a hand to hers and hummed and looked up at her.

"then sleep seems to be what we both need." He said as he gently brought her in close to his chest. He held her close and sighed as his muscles relaxed into the bed and soon the both of them each finding comfort in the other drifted off into a very welcomed bit of sleep.

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes

word count: 4014

Chapters: 1 2 3

Chapter 4

The weirdest thing is that a few months ago, Dove wouldn’t think that listening to kids running and playing would sound as sweet as it did.

A small chuckle escaped her as she sat on the steps leading into Dale’s RV. The horrified look on Glenn’s face as he stopped mid-greeting was just as amusing.

“Well. Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Dove squinted as she stood up and moved to stand next to him.

“When did they start tearing it apart,” Glenn frowned as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Dove shrugged her shoulders, “’Bout a half an hour ago, I suppose.” She ran a hand through her dark hair as she turned her head slightly. Rick was finally awake again. Dove raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she greeted the newcomer. “Mornin’, Rick!”

“Go on! Tear it apart, you vultures.” Glenn scowled and shook his head. Dove couldn’t keep herself from letting out a snort of laughter.

“Generators need every drop of fuel they can get,” Dale stated matter-of-factly as he walked past them.

“He has a fair point. I’d rather have a shower than a fancy car,” Dove mumbled quietly.

“I thought I’d get to drive it another few days,” Glenn sighed.

Dove turned her head slightly as Rick responded, “Maybe we’ll get to steal another one someday.”

This new way of living sure was a hell of a thing when you had a sheriff encouraging grand theft auto.

Dove placed a comforting hand on Glenn’s shoulder, “Maybe an even nicer one! One that’s not going to send an alarm running for miles next time too.” Glenn just let out an annoyed sigh.

Glenn seemed to be resigned to the fact that his car was being torn apart by Jim. Dove patted his shoulder again as she watched him step forward to converse with the other man. Knowing him, he was still probably trying to talk about what a cool car it was to anyone who would listen.

A revving engine caught the attention of a few members of the camp as Shane pulled up. He announced, “Make sure to boil the water before use.”

Carol made her way over to Dove. “Too bad about Glenn’s car, huh?”

The response caught in Dove’s throat as a shrill scream erupted from the woods close by, followed by another voice screaming “Mom!!”

A panicked look was exchanged between the sisters for a moment and then they were both off. Carol screamed for Sophia and the relief was obvious on Dove’s face as the little girl broke through the trees with Carl hot on her heels.

Tiny arms wrapped themselves around her waist as Dove knelt quickly to survey her niece for any marks. “Are you alright, Soph? Nothing bit you?” Sophia shook her head quickly, only able to muster up a panicked whimper. Carol finally broke through the trees behind her and let out a relieved cry as Sophia released her aunt with a cry of, “Mommy!!”

Dove glanced around quickly before she pointed back towards camp. “Take them back now! I’m just gonna make sure everything’s alright!” Carol nodded her head and scooped Sophia up.

Lori, however, eyed her warily for a moment before the brunette disappeared into the tree line again.

As she broke through the trees she held back a hysterical laugh. They were just stood around the damn thing, beating it with sticks. So much for being evolved past a caveman brain.

Amy let out a disgusted groan as the walkers head was finally chopped off.

Dale muttered, “That’s the first one we’ve had out here.”

Jim replied, “They must be running out of food in the city.”

Dove looked over at Amy and Andrea. Both of the sisters were just looking on like a couple of deer in the headlights and she couldn’t blame them. She felt a little nauseous herself.

Branches snapped in the woods and all conversation stopped. Andrea put a protective arm around Amy and Dove took a slow step forward towards the men. Curiosity was a bitch of a thing, but she wanted to see what exactly was going to happen.

Her heart leapt into her throat and plummeted back to her stomach as Daryl Dixon came into view. Her eyes locked with Jim’s in a moment of panic before she quickly looked down at her feet. Honestly, she would rather have a walker run out of the woods right now than have to face the inevitable.

Daryl looked pissed already. Definitely a good sign for them. “That was my deer. Look at it! All gnawed on by this filthy, disease ridden, motherless, proxy bastard!”

Dale shook his head in disgust, “Now come on, son. That’s not helping anyone.”

Daryl’s temper flared up again as he stepped quickly over the walker, headed right for Dale. Dove took a quick step closer to Rick as she eyed the officer, trying to communicate that this was not a good sign. “What do you know about it, old man? Why don’t you take that stupid hat and go back to ‘on golden pond’?”

A surprised laugh, which was able to be quickly covered up as a cough escaped Dove’s lips. Glenn elbowed her slightly in the side and narrowed his eyes once he had her attention. The woman merely shrugged as she turned her attention back to the dead animal. Her stomach did begin to rumble at the thought of venison, or anything other than squirrels for that matter. A sigh left her lips as Shane stated, “I wouldn’t risk that.”

Daryl’s focus drifted to her, almost asking for another opinion. Dove shrugged her shoulders before she slipped her hands into her back pockets, “As good as it sounds, it’s too risky. We got kids to think about and what if they eat tainted meat? Get sick?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head, “Damn shame. I got a few squirrels though. ‘Bout a dozen or so. That’ll have to do.” The calmness in the air broke as the walker head at her feet started snapping its jaw again. Dove let out a startled shriek and stumbled back into Glenn as Daryl shot an arrow into it’s brain. “Gotta be the brain. Don’t ya’ know nothin?”

The focus of the group shifted again as Daryl stalked off towards camp. Dale looked startled, “I don’t see this going well.”

Shane removed the hat from his head as the group started to walk, Dove started to take longer strides to keep up with the two officers. She heard Shane mention Daryl’s name and spoke up.

“I think you guys really need to think about doing this,” Dove spoke, concern in her voice. “I think you oughta try and break it to him as gently as possible. People like him tend to react violently, plus he seems pretty hyped up from losing that deer.”

The two men kept moving, but Rick glanced over his shoulder at her. “What’d you do before this?”

“I was a therapist. Getting ready to work on my PhD. Why?”

She didn’t miss the look the two men exchanged and fell back a step. Glenn flinched as he heard Daryl yell for Merle. “This is gonna be a shit show,” Glenn sighed.

Dove shook her head as Shane stopped Daryl in his tracks. “Poor guy. I got money on Dixon, though. He’s a scrapper.�� She whispered so only Glenn could hear. Glenn let out a nervous chuckle as the two of them came to a stop next to the Jeep.

“There was a problem in Atlanta.” Seriously, Dove thought, he’s going to drag it out like this? What a mess.

“He dead?” Dove gripped Glenn’s wrist a little tighter than she meant to as she took a step closer to him.

“We’re not sure.”

“He either is or he ain’t!” Dove couldn’t really blame him for being so angry. She could only imagine how mad she would be if it were Carol on that roof. She would probably be trying to kick the ass of anyone she could find.

“No easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it,” Rick stated as he finally took a step forward. What a time to play good cop, bad cop.

Rick introduced himself, only to be met with, “Rick Grimes, you got somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all. So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal,” Rick finished. Damn, she had to admire how he got right to the point about it. “He’s still there.”

Daryl started pacing like a caged animal. “Hold on. Let me process this. You’re saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and you left him there?” Daryl shouted. Dove could feel her pulse quickening as a million and one ways that she was trained to de-escalate someone this angry ran through her head. None of them seemed to make any sense right now under the heat from the burning Atlanta sun.

The next few seconds were a blur. Daryl yelled, Dove let out a startled yelp as the squirrels flew towards her, she stepped back closer to Glenn, and just like that, Daryl was on the ground. T-Dog stepped forward, shouting something about a knife. Dove took a few slow steps forward, eyes wide as saucers as she watched Shane bring him down in a chokehold after a few swings of a knife.

“Chokeholds illegal,” Daryl managed to choke out.

Shane sounded too comfortable with it for Dove’s liking. “Yeah, well, file a complaint.” Dove argued with herself internally as she watched Daryl keep struggling to be let go.

Rick knelt in front of the other two men, clearly trying to calm the situation down. “I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic.”

Dove scowled as she squatted down between the two officers. “Not to tell you how to do your job, but it’s awful hard to have a calm discussion with a man whose air supply is being cut off,” she finished through gritted teeth.

 Rick glanced at her and nodded before he turned back to Daryl, “You think we can manage that?”

The two officers nodded at each other and Dove stood up quickly as Daryl finally got released. She watched for a moment, still in shock about what just happened, when she saw Daryl still trying to catch his breath as he pointed at Shane. Dove turned quickly and placed a hand on Shane’s arm. “Just back up, man. Rick’s got it. You don’t need to be bad cop right now,” she pushed him back gently before she walked past the other two men, joining Lori by the steps to the RV.

“You good,” the other woman asked, her eyes not leaving the scene in front of her.

“Yeah just adrenaline rush. I’m fine,” Dove nodded as she brushed her hair out of her eyes. She turned her head slightly and met Carol’s worried gaze through the window of the RV. Dove held her hand up and nodded her head.

“It’s not Rick’s fault,” T-Dog interjected and suddenly the focus was on him. “I had the key. I dropped it.”

Daryl snapped again, “You couldn’t pick it up?”

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.” Dove couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this. This just sounded worse and worse the more they tried to explain it to him. At least no one was dead yet.

Her heart sank as she folded her arms in front of her chest, her focus shifted with everyone else’s as the men moved slowly around camp. She knew that Daryl and his brother were close but, shit. She didn’t expect to see him cry for even a second. One of her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she looked down at her feet.

She wasn’t surprised when Daryl shouted. “Hell with all y’all. Just tell me where he is so’s I can go get em.”

What truly shocked her was Lori. The older woman spoke up from her spot by the door at this. “He’ll show you. Won’t you?” She almost insisted with just her words as she locked eyes with her husband.

Dove was torn between following Lori back into the RV or following after Rick as the conflict came to a close. She, instead, chose to check on Carol and Sophia. Her steps were quiet as she walked up the steps to the RV. Dove slid into the seat at the table opposite of her family and reached a hand out to stroke Sophia’s arm. “Hey, bug. You were real brave out there today,” Dove spoke softly as Sophia lifted her head from her mother’s arms.

Sophia sniffled and rubbed her eyes before she looked between the two sisters. “I was really scared,” the young girl whispered.

Dove smiled a little and nodded her head. “I was too, bug. But you did the right thing by runnin like that. Hell, I don’t think either of us knew you could run that fast!” Carol chuckled softly at this as she stroked the young girl’s hair.

“She’s right, Sophia. You kept yourself safe. That was the right thing to do.” Carol kissed the top of her daughter’s forehead before she whispered for her to do something that sounded a lot like ‘go check on Carl’.

Dove drummed her fingers on the table as her thoughts raced through her head. Carol’s voice finally pulled her out of her own head. “You want to go with them, don’t you.” Carol stated in a hushed voice.

Dove’s eyes shot up. Her hazel eyes widened a little bit as she felt color rush to her cheeks. “I…I was thinking about it.”

Carol clicked her tongue and shook her head. “I don’t want my sister out there dyin’ for someone like Merle Dixon.” Her voice didn’t raise above a whisper, though she didn’t sound pleased at all.

Dove rolled her eyes at this. “That’s not what I was thinking of!”

“Then what were you…”

Dove cut her older sister off as she reached out and took her hand, “What if that was me up there, huh? Or you? Would you want me to just leave you up there like that to die?” Dove hissed. “It’s the right thing to do, Carol. Merle or not, it’s the right thing to do.”

Carol’s eyes widened slightly as she took in her sister’s words and nodded her head slowly. “If that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you. But I just want you to be careful. I don’t want to be explaining to Sophia why her aunt isn’t around anymore.”

A small smirk graced Dove’s face as she squeezed Carol’s hand gently. “Oh please. I’m always careful.”

It was Carol’s turn to roll her eyes as Dove rose from her seat, kissed her older sister on the top of her head, and descended the stairs out of the RV.

Dove looked around camp before spotting Daryl by the fire. She took a long deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth before trudging forward. “Hey, you alright?” Dumb question.

“What kinda stupid question is that,” Daryl snapped at her.

Dove raised both her hands in front of her, a tired expression on her face. “Right. Guess I deserved that, it was pretty fucking stupid huh.”

Daryl just stared at her for a moment. He had the type of eyes that made her uneasy sometimes; eyes that could stare right into your soul if you’d let them. “What do you want?”

Dove let out a heavy sigh as she watched Carol approach her laundry station out of the corner of her eye. She stood up a little straighter and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I wanna go with you and Rick. Try to bring back Merle. I figure the more people, the better. Plus, y’all might need someone to balance out all the testosterone in that car.”

Daryl stared at her again for a few seconds before scoffing at her. “Don’t need no one else out there, especially not you. Can you even shoot a gun?”

Dove grinded her teeth together as she nodded her head slowly. “Well, excuse me. I may not know how to shoot a gun but I am just as capable as Andrea and Jacqui and they go out into the city all the time! Give me a blunt object and I can take out any walker just as good as a gun, I bet.” Her hands were shaking as she unfolded her arms and shoved her hands in her pockets.

“Alright.” Daryl turned his attention from her.

Dove’s jaw almost dropped in shock as she stood still. “Excuse me?”

Daryl turned back to face her, eyes narrowed slightly. “You heard me, girl. You’re grown, you wanna go? Can’t stop ya. Just don’t expect to get your ass saved.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t,” a serene smile was on Dove’s face now.

Shane would definitely have to learn to hold his tongue if they were going to bring Merle back as he called Merle a “douchebag”.

Daryl pointed at the man, “Hey, you better watch what you say!”

Shane nodded his head all sincerely before uttering, “No no. Douchebag’s what I meant.”

Dove rolled her eyes and brought the palms of her hands up to rub her eyes, “Dear god what did I do to deserve this.”

Lori spoke up from her seat by what would be that night’s fire. “So what? You and Daryl, that’s your big plan?”

Carol eyed Dove for a moment before the group’s attention shifted to Glenn. “Oh come on!”

Rick spoke, “You know the way. You’ve been there before. In and out, no problem! You said so yourself.” He was right. Glenn wasn’t shy about telling everyone in the group how well he knew the city and he had dug his own grace.

“That’s just great. Now you’re gonna risk three men?” Shane scoffed.

T-Dog spoke up next, “Four.”

Daryl scoffed, “My day just gets better and better, don’t it?”

Dove rolled her eyes, “Might as well get this out of the way now and make it five.”

Dale glanced between them all and nodded his head. “That’s five.”

Shane shook his head and began to pace a little bit. “You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. C’mon. You saw that walker! It was here. It was in camp,” Shane lectured. “They come back, we need every able body we’ve got. We need em to protect camp.”

Rick nodded his head, “Sounds to me like what you need is more guns.”

Dove’s head was spinning. Sophia shuffled her feet as Dove walked over to them. She knelt in front of the girl, taking her hands in her as the others talked about the guns. “Now you listen to me, alright? I’m gonna be just fine! I promise. I always am. But I need you to promise me something too okay?”

Sophia nodded her head and listened intently. “I need you to look out for your mama until I get back, okay? Just make sure everything’s alright. Hold down the fort for me. Promise?” She released Sophia’s hands and held a pinky out to her.

Sophia locked her pinky with her aunt’s before she wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. “Be safe.”

Dove kissed her niece on the forehead before standing up and brushing off her knees. “Be safe, Carol.” Dove hugged her sister tightly before she turned to see what was going on.

Dove lifted herself into the back of the van, her eyes were beginning to glaze over from boredom as she waited before she almost leapt out of her skin at the sound of a horn honking. From the driver’s seat, Glenn let out a startled shout as Daryl stepped on the horn again. “C’mon let’s go!”

Dove rubbed her temples and muttered to herself before placing a hand on the crowbar that she’d managed to sweet talk out of Jim. She would definitely have to make sure that she made it back now.

The young woman blew a kiss to her family as the door to the back of the van was slammed shut and they pulled away.

~

It was oddly silent on the way to the city. Dove positioned herself so she could see out the front windshield. “This is the first time I’ve left camp in the past two months.” She whispered to Glenn and Rick.

Rick turned his head, a sympathetic look on his face. “You might not want to look until we get there, then. Might be a bit of a shock. Trust me on that one.”

Dove took in the man’s words for a moment before she turned and faced the back of the van again.

Daryl finally spoke up for the first time since they started on the road. “He best be alright.”

T-Dog sighed. “The only thing that’s getting through that door is us. He’s fine.”

The van finally lurched to a stop and Glenn called back, “We walk from here.”

Dove groaned as she pulled herself to her feet and hopped out of the back of the van. “Oh shit, I’m getting old.” She mumbled to T-Dog as he hopped down next to her.

T-Dog shook his head at her. “You’re getting old? Just wait ‘til you hit 30.”

Dove laughed quietly as she took off down the train tracks after the rest of the group.

Rick paused as they stepped through a space in the gate that led from the tracks to the road. “Merle first or guns?”

Daryl snapped. “Merle! We ain’t even havin this conversation.”

Dove shook her head and motioned towards Daryl with her free hand, the other still tightly gripping the crowbar. “I’m with him on this. I mean a human life or ammo?”

Rick stared at both of them, clearly trying to keep his cool “We are having this conversation. You know the geography, it’s your call.” He turned to Glenn as the group began to walk.

“Merle’s closest. The guns would mean doubling back.” Glenn stated and Dove wasn’t sure if he was lying or not, but she was grateful for that nonetheless.

Her hazel eyes seemed to take in everything that had happened to Atlanta as they walked through the city. The city she had worked in and know so well was practically gone in a matter of weeks. It made her chest feel tight to see everything, but she knew she couldn’t stop moving.

She stepped lightly into the department store behind T-Dog and in front of Glenn as she went. She stopped, crowbar raised as a walker made it’s way through the aisles of the store. Daryl didn’t waste any time shooting the thing through the head.

Glenn moved forward and directed them to a staircase. It was a lot farther up than it looked, or maybe she was out of shape, but the steps were seeming to take their toll on her as they worked their way towards the roof.

The men reached the last landing as Dove rounded the corner just a few steps behind them. She took the last few steps slowly as she watched Daryl kick the door open after the chain was finally cut.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She observed as she ran up the last few steps out onto the roof with the others. Merles Dixon was not a quiet man and he surely would’ve reacted to a door being kicked the fuck open.

Daryl’s screams for his brother turned into screams of panic. Dove’s heart dropped as she stepped out onto the roof behind Glenn and she saw it. A hand flew up to cover her mouth as she fought back the urge to vomit. Merle’s hand laid there on the ground next to a bloody hacksaw but Merle Dixon the man was gone.

-

@crossbowking​

[thewarriorandtheking]

Mistletoe

Imagine what would you do if you saw the King walking under mistletoe...

 A bit of Warrior and The King holiday fluff I wrote last year...revised to flow better (because I will never stop editing). 

Enjoy!

The Warrior and The King Masterlist

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

Balin stowed the last parcels in the wagon and climbed onto the seat, moving to the middle to make room for Thorin who stepped up behind him. Fili picked up the reins and whistled to the ponies, guiding them toward the city gates. The wagon creaked as the wheels rolled through the ice on the puddles in the road, clouds of steam from the pony’s breath swirled around their heads, forming ice crystals in their furry ears.  

It was a crisp midwinter day; they had started out from Erebor in a flurry of snowflakes but over the day the skies had cleared. Now the sun was just setting, bathing the Lonely Mountain in a soft lavender glow, the land sleeping under its white blanket. Balin looked over at Thorin, his beard buried in his fur coat, his face grim. The King had been in a murderously dark mood for months now, Balin had convinced him to come to Dale today hoping a change of scenery might lift his spirits. Thorin had brightened up negotiating with the traders, but now it looked like his black mood was reasserting itself. Balin worried at the grip this dark humor seemed to have on his King. He had always felt Thorin’s recovery from dragon sickness had been too quick, his worst fear was it would one day reassert itself.  

They made their way slowly through the streets of Dale. It was the day before the midwinter holiday of Men and the streets were crowded. As they passed through a neighborhood with many inns and public houses, they were stopped by a herd of cattle being driven up a cross street. Balin was talking to Fili about trade deals when he felt a breath of wind and looked over to see Thorin was no longer sitting next to him. Surprised, he looked around and saw him hastening down the side street toward a large public house at the end.

“We seem to have lost the King,” he said. Where is he going? “Your young eyes are better than mine, what is the name of that pub?”

“I do not think it is the pub that caught his eye,” Fili said, smiling crookedly. “There is a tall black horse tied up at the rail.”

Balin could just make out a black horse in the fading light. “Are you sure?”

Fili shrugged. “Looks like her saddle, and there are not any horses like that north of Rohan.”

Balin shook his head. “This is not good, there are many things that need the King’s attention in Erebor!”

Fili laughed, punching the older Dwarf in the arm. “Cheer up! At least my uncle will be in a good mood!”

 Thorin had been idly wondering if he could make up an excuse to stay in Dale. The weight of his kingdom had been sitting very heavily on him lately, sometimes he felt as if it was crushing him. The demands on his time were endless and Shurri seemed to be going out of her way to make his life difficult. Even forging offered him little relief. He had enjoyed getting out of his city, now he felt like staying for a few days. When the wagon stopped, Thorin was idly looking around when to he spotted what looked like Kaylea Wolf’s horse. He was off the wagon before he even thought about what he was doing. When he drew closer he could see it was definitely her horse, there was no mistaking her saddle. He strode up to the inn and pushed the door open.

The place was pleasantly warm after walking in the chill air. The crowd inside seemed to be mostly tradesmen; armorers, masons, leatherworkers, a few who looked like woodsmen. As Thorin’s eyes swept the room he spotted Kaylea Wolf at a table in the corner near the hearth, the hood of her coat covering her golden hair. She was studying a piece of parchment in her hand. As Thorin started to walk across the crowded inn he became aware the place had fallen silent. It was not every day that the King Under the Mountain showed up at the local pub. Thorin knew he should probably be more cautious, but right now he only had eyes for the woman he loved. As the hush fell over the room Kaylea looked up, her face surprised at first, then melted into a wide smile. She held her hand up and Thorin paused. He heard some whispering from the Men at the nearby tables, pointing at something over his head. He looked up to see a sprig of some plant with small green leaves tied to the beam above him with a bright red ribbon. Then Kaylea was in his arms, her hood thrown back, silver beads in her hair glittering in the lamplight. Thorin drew her mouth down to his, feeling all the worries and frustrations of the last months fading away, he knew only the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against his, the desert smell of her skin. It was a very long moment before he drew back, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers.

“My love…I cannot believe you are here,” he whispered. “It is all I have wished for these many months.”  

“Congratulations, your majesty,” said a tall man in weathered clothing sitting at a nearby table. He raised his mug in a toast and drank.

Thorin eyed the greenery over his head. “I do not know this tradition of Men,” he said. “Perhaps you can enlighten me.”

“If you kiss a lady under the mistletoe it is said she will be your wife,” the man replied. “And your love will long endure.”

Thorin glanced up, then smiled widely at Kaylea. “If that is the case, I will kiss you again! Just to be sure.” He pulled her close, aware of the whispers around them, but not really caring. Suddenly the bell rang at the bar and the pub came to life, Men jumping up from their tables to shout drink orders to the barkeep, the Dwarf King and his warrior woman quite forgotten. Thorin looked over to see Balin sliding a stack of coins to the innkeeper. The old Dwarf crossed the room, setting three mugs of ale on Kaylea’s table.  

“Master Balin, it is good to see you again,” Kaylea told him. Thorin slid onto the bench next to her, running an arm around her shoulders, she snuggled against him, her hand caressing the inside of his thigh.  

Balin smiled at her. “It is always good to see you, lass.” He liked Kaylea Wolf almost from the moment he met her, and he never tired of looking at her. Many years had passed since their first meeting on the road to Rivendell yet she was completely unchanged, her face smooth, her hair untouched by grey. It seemed his notion that she was of Elven blood was true after all. This was not the best time for her to make an appearance, but if anyone could draw Thorin out of his black mood it was her. Sometimes Balin chided himself for not encouraging her to marry Thorin all those years ago. It would not have been the right choice politically, but it would have been the right choice for the King.

Fili had parked the wagon and joined them, glad to see a smile on his uncle’s face again. They spent a merry evening catching up, Kaylea wanted to know all that had happened in Erebor and the Dwarves were curious to hear her news from the South. Finally, as the evening crowd began to thin, Balin stood up buttoning his coat.  

“We should get back,” he told the King.  

Thorin dismissed him with a wave. “You go ahead, I will catch up in a day or two,” he said. “I think I will stay here for the winter holiday.”

Balin gave him a reproachful look. “You have a formal feast for the princes of the Blue Mountains tomorrow. And your cousins from the Iron Hills should have arrived today.”

Thorin scowled at the old Dwarf. “So, make up an excuse! Shurri will be more than happy to preside over any formal occasion.”  

Balin looked to Kaylea for help, but she only smiled at him and shrugged. “Perhaps you could delay the feast for a few days,” she said, looking at Thorin. “If it is what the King wishes.”

Balin sighed. “Well, I suppose I do have the ride back to Erebor to think of something.” He gave the King a reproachful look. “You owe me one, laddie. Or I should say, another one.”  

Thorin chuckled. “Put it on my tab.” He watched Balin and Fili leave, then turned to Kaylea. “My love, do you happen to know if there is a room nearby where we could have some…supper?” His fingers traced the skin of her stomach under her tunic.  

“Upstairs,” Kaylea answered. “This place has excellent rooms, one has a view of Erebor.”

 Hours later, Kaylea rolled over to watch Thorin as he walked across the room to stoke the fire. As she had promised the room was large and well-appointed, the bed soft as a cloud; it was one of only two rooms at the top of the inn. From the windows the gates of Erebor could be clearly seen, the braziers along the top brightly lit. Kaylea noticed Thorin had gained some weight since he had been king, no longer the thin warrior she had met on the road to Rivendell. She decided to tease him about it, but not tonight. Her eyes traveled down his body, lingering on his mane of dark hair, his wide shoulders, strong arms scarred from battles and years of working hot metal, the curve of his back, the thick muscles in his legs.

Feeling her eyes on him, Thorin looked over at her. “Are you watching me?”

“Just enjoying the view.”

Thorin chuckled. He went to the window, studying the gates of his city in the moonlit vale. For the first time in months he felt a little distance between himself and all his responsibilities. After a moment he turned back toward the bed, looking down at his feet. “I am afraid I do not cut quite as dashing a figure as I once did.”

Kaylea smiled at him. “You need to start training again. I decided to tease you about that tomorrow.”

Thorin slipped back into bed beside her, pulling her close. “Is that so? Then tomorrow I will tease you about your clothes.” The fact that Kaylea always wore her black fighting clothes had always been a sore spot for him. She had a few dresses in her wardrobe in Erebor, he wished she would bring some new ones. “Do you not have tailors in your land that can make you something different?”

“Is it decreed in Erebor that the King should have three helpings at every meal?”

“Actually, it is four. But I will resolve to only have two if you let me order you some new dresses.” Smiling, he brushed her hair away from her face. “Tell me about this winter holiday of Men.”

“This is the holiday that marks the new year for Men,” Kaylea said. “The shortest day of the year has passed and the days are starting to grow longer. It is a time to gather with your family, exchange presents. People decorate their homes and enjoy a feast. There are many little traditions this time of year, it is the only time you will find mistletoe indoors.”

The King laughed. “You stopped me when I was standing under it,” he said. “Does that mean you do want to marry me?”

“I told you before it is not my destiny to be married, but I hope our love will always remain strong.”

“And I told you I will not take no for an answer. One day you will be my wife,” Thorin replied. He stroked her back with his fingers. “You said it is a time for gift-giving, did you bring me a present?”

Kaylea smiled mischievously, taking his hand and guiding it between her legs. “You already opened it.”

“Mmmm…exactly what I wanted! How did you ever guess?” 

[denerims-archive]

this is the taste of love and i will choke on it

pairing: joel miller x oc (claire parrish)

summary: on the way back to jackson, claire and joel stop at an abandoned diner that stirs up old memories for claire. note: i mostly have dumped info about claire through random posts and rehashing who some people from her past are didn’t seem to fit so quick tldr; dale - old traveling companion and father figure post-outbreak, micah - claire’s ex-husband who died a few months after the outbreak.

warnings: just spoilers for tlou 1

The diner’s windows had been broken years before, scattering shards of glass across the dusty tiled floor. They crackled under foot as the pair stepped inside, sweeping the small back rooms and manager’s office before returning to the main dining area. Plastic cups with Pepsi in curled white lettering lay littered behind the long counter amongst pieces of broken plates. The place wouldn’t have done much for them if a winter storm had blown over the mountains but it provided merciful shade from the vicious summer heat.

Claire reached out and ran her finger along a little heart someone had carved into the linoleum countertop. A little groan and she looked over to see Joel lowering himself into one of the intact booths that still had both benches still standing - though to the left of his shoulder it looked like someone had carved the back in with a knife. Yellowing foam hung pitifully out of the faded pleather fabric. 

“Am I going to have to carry you back?” Claire asked, wandering over to rest her hip on the opposite seat. 

“Just hogtie me and throw me over the back of Lou. I’ll sleep through it,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, missing the little smile that danced across her lips.

Claire sighed. Heat and sweat clung to her, making her t-shirt stick to her body with every movement. At least she wasn’t at risk of a nasty sunburn in here - Claire was already looking a little pink on the tops of her cheek bones and forearms. 

“Well, what can I get ya?” she asked. 

Joel popped one eye open, “Hm?”

She pushed herself off the booth and folded her arms across her chest. Gently, she knocked on the side of his boot with the toe of her own in encouragement.

“What do you want to eat?”

He straightened a little and studied her for a moment. 

Would they have ever met? It was a hard question to ask but she’d asked it of old Dale too. One night, sitting on the boat watching the stars while they sat in shitty fishing chairs that pinched her ass. The boat swayed in the tide, lulling her like she was being rocked to sleep. The dead coast was quiet and dark. 

She always avoided giving voice to questions like that - there was no use. This was their now. Anything that was or will be wasn’t her concern. That’s what Micah always told her.

Dale had furrowed his bushy brows and sat there staring at the water for a long time, worrying his finger underneath his bottom lip. 

Finally, he turned to look at her with a small, sad smile.

“I can only hope.”

“Pie?” Joel said suspiciously, knocking her from her reverie. 

“Coffee too?” she asked.

“Coffee too.” he replied with a nod. Claire left him and slipped behind the counter, hauling her bag up onto it. She cracked open their provision of canned beans and placed it on one of the few unbroken plates she could find, sticking two forks into it like she was placing a cherry on top of a sundae. 

She wandered over with two cracked, dusty mugs and set it down in front of him before slipping into the booth opposite. Her feet were aching terribly and she kicked up her boots onto the seat next to him. 

Claire shoveled out a forkful of runny beans but didn’t exactly let it linger on her tongue. 

“Best pie in Wyoming,” she told him quite seriously without a hint of a smile. 

Joel followed her lead and began to eat, leaning his elbow on the table. 

“So why is my waitress stealin’ bites?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow and gesturing at her with his fork lazily. 

“Is it so hard to believe I got offered to have a seat and share a slice with strange old man pretty often?” 

“You were a waitress before all of this?” he asked as they ate, decidedly choosing to ignore the strange old man comment. Claire nodded slowly, dancing around a minefield of memories. Micah standing dripping rain on the floors she just mopped asking for a hot coffee and a kiss from the prettiest waitress they had.

She sucked on her teeth.

“Daylight Diner, just off the exit of I-15,” she nodded. “And we did have the best pie.”

Joel had a soft little smile that felt like a punch to the gut.

He ate another bite of beans off his fork and offered her the last bite. Claire shook her head. Her stomach felt funny.

“Maybe we would have met,” Joel offered even though Texas was a long way from Montana. 

For a moment, she could see it. Working the late shift when he’d come in. The diner would be silent except for the soft crooning of the radio and the clinking of the dishwashers in the back. Her old regular - God, what was his name? - sitting in his booth in the back. Joel would duck into the restroom and then come over to ask for directions. Claire was shit at directions. They’d both laugh at that. 

Claire couldn’t imagine a Joel without grey in his hair. 

She’d offer him pie and a cup of coffee - blueberry? Maybe apple?. He’d offer her the seat across from him and she’d gratefully take it because her dogs were barking. Joel would laugh at that too.

Claire stared at Joel for a long moment and offered him a sad smile. 

“Can only hope,” she told him and raised her empty mug. 

Joel knocked his cup against hers in a shitty diner at the end of the world.

[naomixhill]

I just feel really compelled to share this piece of my diary from 20 December 2014. I wrote this when I was 20

Right before my life fell apart.

It’s just barely 7 a.m. as our plane flies over the New York City skyline. Involuntarily, tears fall from my eyes. I have always imagined what it would be like seeing this for the first time, but no amount of reading, and certainly no photo, prepares one for the hundreds of skyscrapers. Industry, ambition, hard work: these are the things that this city is founded upon. This is all I have ever wanted.

I am wearing a pink, sheer top underneath a $500 suit purchased by a date of mine from the prior night. Tiffany’s Essential Pearls hangs delicately around my neck with corresponding pearl earrings. I have on a steel-mesh watch by Skagen. In my hand is Dale Carnegie’s How To Win Friends & Influence Others. To my side, on the flimsy airplane tray, sits some sort of alcoholic drink I have neglected to touch, as I’ve been too busy peering out the window for this very moment. 

Once off the plane, I hail a cab and head immediately to Manhattan. My interview is in a few hours, but I am exhausted and still have much preparation to do. Traffic is fierce, but my middle-eastern taxi cab driver is able to get us to the city in a little over an hour. I find a small coffee shop near the bank, open up my laptop, and begin my morning ritual. I open Scottrade. Then TD Ameritrade. And then Morning Star, Yahoo Finance, CNBC, and the Wall Street Journal if I have time. What is the current stock price of this company? What is the NASDAQ trading at today? What about the DOW? What the fuck is oil doing? 

I have a large cup of oatmeal and a small coffee. C told me at least a dozen times not to take any uppers or drink caffeine before the interview, but I may have ignored his suggestion. 

I reread the company’s core values and business segments on the corporate website, and then go to Seeking Alpha to find it’s latests earnings report. I memorize a few statistics that I think will be useful.  I realize my interview is about a half hour away, and I take that as my sign to go. As I walk down Broad Street, I receive noticeable attention from passersby. On Wall Street, a man says, “I hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way, but you are very beautiful,” as he walks in the opposing direction. I blush. 

At last, I arrive at the bank. I know I look like an outsider because my entire body halts, and I take a moment to look up at the buildings vastness. It must be easily over 50 floors. A man leaning up against the building laughs at me, and says I must not be from around here. I tell him if my interview goes well, one day maybe I can be as calm and collected as he is, sitting outside against global bank, smoking a cigarette. 

As I enter the building, I am immediately met by security. They check my ID, and write me a pass to a top floor to meet my interviewer. When I arrive to the lobby area of this floor, I am again baffled by its beauty that is all-encompassing. A secretary greets me and brings me to the waiting room. There, a few other interviewees wait. Their conversation is vain, and I don’t participate much. One student attends Carnegie Mellon, another is from University of Chicago, and still another is from Duke. The girl from UC is going on and on about having just met a very impressive set of students from Princeton, who will prove to be tough competition against us. While pedigree means more to me than arguably anything else, I don’t want to dwell on my competition. I stay focused. I am here to take what is mine. 

A junior recruiter, J, stops into the waiting area to introduce herself. She tells me that she will not personally be doing the interviews, just handling the logistics (though any smart interviewee would know that she is informally interviewing us all by watching how we interact with one another, how we sit, how we drink our tea, how—).  She is a particularly attractive recruiter with long brown hair down to her waist, which is very thin, and a tall, but not lanky, figure. She appears to be in designer clothing. Promptly after leaving the room, I look at her LinkedIn to find her interests and learn more about her own career path. When she re-enters, I exploit all of these findings and she takes to me quite well. 

After about twenty minutes of sitting and anticipating, at last it is my turn to interview. It is a 2 on 1, and both of my interviewers work in collateralized debt obligations. Ironically and luckily enough, I just finished reading a book on CDOs within the past month. So instead of talking about me for the majority of the interview, we talk about them, and what they do within their own roles. It’s fascinating to me, and allows me to get them comfortable and liking me before I have ever spoken a word about myself.  

When we finally do come around to me, the questions are all softballs. Tell me about yourself. Walk me through your resume. Why do you want to work for this particular bank? What do you do for fun? It’s almost a joke. I walk out of the interview with a strong sense that I will make it to round two. Meanwhile, the girls I had seen prior to the interview were also exiting. The girl from Duke and UC were complaining how difficult their interviews were, filled with accounting, valuation, and other technical questions. I laugh to myself. 

I head out of the bank, and take a walk around the city. Around 4:07, I receive the call to let me know I am welcomed back for round two. The recruiter says, “Wow, I hope you don’t think I say this to everyone, but your interviewers were very impressed by you.” I smile. The recruiter goes on to tell me that she has booked me a hotel on Williams, and I am going to be flying home the following day after a second and then (hopefully) third interview that will occur back-to-back. 

I take no time to find the hotel, check in, and lay down in my room. I am exhausted, particularly after having woken up at 3:30 a.m., and take a short nap. However, with the night still being young, I wake up by 9, throw on a nice outfit, and head out. I find a bar, where I am greeted by a group of 30-somethings. They work for Jefferies, which doesn’t impress me much. A hostess comes over to me, and gives me a wristband. I find it strange, but assume it is to show I am 21+.  The Jefferies gentlemen and I have a few drinks, and it isn’t until much later I realize that I walked in on a private event, and the wristband is to show membership. It dawns on me that the hostess must have assumed I knew the gentlemen I had been talking to, and didn’t check to see if I was on the list. I make a quick exit after this realization. 

Heading back to the hotel, I see Jim Cramer walking down Broad. I yell a star-struck “Hellooooo Jim!” 

I light a cigarette, and consider today one of the best days of my life. By the time I hit my head against the pillow, I am beyond tired, and find it easier to sleep than I have in months. 

[dontdietwd]

Day 64

The breaking of a twig under my foot snapped in the silence, making Morales – rifle in hand for he’d been on his guard duty for the last few hours before sunset, a few meters away into the woods from the tents area – turn around sharply, eyes wide in attention.

“Hey, just me,” I told him in a whisper, but as clearly as I could. “No walker ‘round here tonight, I hope…”

“Oh, Sam, hi… Didn’t see you coming,” he breathed relieved, a little smile showing his relief. “You’re up early.”

“Didn’t even sleep,” I told him as I stood by his side, looking out at the darkened park. “You should go, have some rest. I won’t sleep anyway if I stay in the tent, might as well do something useful.”

“Nah, you sure?”

“Sure, yeah. Go on. We have a big day coming, but sleeping now’s hopeless for me.”

“Well, if that’s alright…” he handed me the rifle with a thankful smile and turned around. “Just holler if you need something, alright?”

“Don’t worry, go to sleep.”

Morales took a couple of steps away before stopping, his back to me, looking down, and stood there for a moment. I looked back at him, confused by his gesture until he turned around, unsure expression, and took one step back towards me.

“Actually, Sam, I – I want to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?” I rested the rifle over my shoulder. “Sure, go ahead.”

“It’s just, uh – Miranda and I have been talking about it for a couple of days already, and – well, after what happened the other night, we, uh…”

“Mo? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. It is, really. We have family in Birmingham. You know, Alabama? It’s actually Miranda’s family, her father and two of her brothers and their families.”

“Have you heard from them?”

“Miranda talked to her brother, Carlos, when the lines still worked. Everyone was fine, they were all together in a house that he said was safe. But nothing after that. We’re hoping they’re all still there.”

“So you’re leaving the group.”

“Yeah.”

I got quiet for a moment, thinking of how the group was slowly thinning. I nodded slowly. “You thought this through?”

“We did.”

“If something happens on the road, you know Miranda can’t fight.”

“It’s 150 miles between here and there. We’ll stop for nothing, I don’t think we’re gonna take more than five hours to get there.”

“God, Mo…” I looked down, shaking my head. “Fuck… If we – God, if we didn’t have the urge to get help for Jim, I’d – I don’t know, I’d ask people for us to go with you. Take you there, to Birmingham, find your family.”

“I’d never want you to do it, Sam, even if Jim was alright. Not gonna take ya’ll out of your ways to help us.”

“You’re one of us. You, Miranda and the kids, you’ve been one of us since this group started, of course I would go with you. And the others too, I’m sure.”

Morales smiled sadly at me, “I know you would, and I appreciate it. But we’ll be on our way when the sun comes up.”

“Shit, Mo…”

“I know. It’s all screwed up, but we do need to find the family. Rick could find his among all this shit, maybe we can too.”

“I hope you do. And if something happens, if you don’t find ’em, Mo, you know where we’re going. Try to go back and to the CDC, try to find us. If you get back to Atlanta, try the radios, if we’re close enough –”

“Sam,” he stopped me, a less sad smile on his face now, as he took one more step and placed a hand on my arm. “I know you worry. Thank you for that, for caring, and for everything. You’ve been a great friend and a good leader to this group; I think you’re what this group needs. You think rationally, but you’re also all heart, and that balance seems to be so necessary these days. So thank you for taking care of the camp, of my family… But I’ll take it from here.”

I was grateful for the darkness around me hiding my wet eyes. I nodded, not trusting my throat to work properly, and allowed him to hug me. He said nothing else as he let me go, still smiling, and then turned around and walked away, the darkness around the tents engulfing him.

 * * *

 Daryl had been waiting for me by the truck while I arranged the last preparations with Dale and Glenn, who shared the front seats of the RV where Jackie and Andrea would be in, helping to take care of Jim. I went to the back, into the small bedroom, where he laid shirtless and sweaty, eyes closed tightly. He reassured me that he was fine enough and that we should go.

I didn’t believe him for a second.

I approached Daryl – the truck was filled with our things and Merle’s bike, which had been parked there this entire time, and smiled at him with tight lips.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, nothing else to do,” I answered and looked around as the cars engines around were started one by one.

“Well, then get in and quit stalling,” Daryl mumbled and turned around to enter the driver’s seat.

“Daryl?” I saw him turn around, half into the car and raise his eyebrows in question. “What if he comes back? Merle?”

Daryl shook his head and finished settling in, door still open. “He ain’t,” he said firmly. “Merle stole the truck and left, if he was gonna come back, he’d’ve been here by now. He ain’t coming back.”

I stood looking at him for a moment, making him question me with his eyebrows again, and then sighed and went around the car. Daryl closed his door just as I sat by his side. The cars started moving, the RV opening the caravan. I closed the door and Daryl waited silently for all the cars to leave before moving, closing the line.

“Think it’ll work?” Daryl asked breaking the silence several minutes later, already on the road. “The CDC?”

“Guess it might. Anyone who’s in there wouldn’t just stop looking for a cure, y’know… It’s just ain’t something people’d just give up on. I think it’s a good chance.”

“And for Jim?”

I breathed out heavily and lifted my legs to rest my feet on the front panel. “Hours ago I’d say so… He seemed to be holding up fine, but now, after I talked to him before we left…” I looked at him, worry clear on my face. Daryl looked at me quickly and then again at the road. “He’s burning up. Never seen anyone with such a high fever… And he’s in pain, says it’s all over, can’t even say where it hurts. It’s a huge infection, I mean…”

“You don’t think he’ll make it.”

“Not if we have to stop for any reason. Not if we have any kind of emergency on the road. Not if we take longer than what we’re planning to get there…”

“Ya know what that means,” he told me darkly and looked at me from the corner of his eyes. “He ain’t gonna make it,” and as he said it I looked out the window, thoughtful. “And if he turns?”

“Glenn’ll do it. Talked to him before. Carol and Jackie are taking care of him, if he dies, they’ll warn him and they’ll stop the caravan, and Glenn will kill his brain before he wakes up.”

Daryl nodded and said nothing else, the truck going silent if not for the engine noise and the tires hitting the asphalt for a while. Breaking the silence and changing the topic, I asked Daryl what had happened on the day they’d been out looking for Merle. Daryl started telling me slowly, but soon he grew more excited about the tale of how they’d been attacked by a group of Mexican kids who seemed dangerous, but turned out to be the watching over of a group of elders, taking care of them and some little dogs. I laughed at the surprise of imagining a tiny, gentle old lady interrupting the violent interaction and taking them inside by the hand, only to find Glenn helping to take care of an old man having an asthma attack.

Daryl had just finished telling how they’d found their truck gone and had to return to the quarry on foot – when they found the camp under a walker attack – when the RV in front of the line of cars signaled that it had to stop. Smoke was coming out of the hood as everyone parked and oozed out of the cars.

“I told you we’d never get far on that hose,” Dale was saying when we approached. “I said I needed the one from the cube van.”

“Can you jury-rig it?” Rick asked him as he fanned out the smoke from around his face.

“That’s all it’s been so far. It’s more duct tape than hose, and I’m out of duct tape.”

“We’ll find a good hose in one of those cars on the road,” I told them and the men looked at me. “Might be a gas-station on this road somewhere.”

“Yeah, I see something ahead,” Shane said with the binoculars over his eyes. “Gas station if we’re lucky.”

“Would you go there, Shane? Take Dale to find the right thing?” I asked him as he lowered the binoculars to look at me.

“Sure. You’ll hold up the fort?”

“Go ahead,” Rick nodded. “Hey, T-Dog, will you go with them to back ’em up?”

The man nodded and the three headed to Shane’s jeep.

“Daryl, would you go up the RV to take guard as we wait?” I asked him in a low voice and he nodded, climbing up the side ladder immediately. “Glenn?” I called and he turned from where he’d been standing, staring at the smoking engine. “Keep an eye on the road, back Daryl up?” he nodded and got to his position. “I’ll go check on Jim.”

Rick followed me in and what we found inside was just heartbreaking.

“No, no, no –” Jim as crying as we approached the too hot space. “Christ, I can’t’!” he said as he looked up from one to another. “My bones… My bones are like glass. Every little bump, God…This ride’s killing me!” and at this he reached up and grabbed my hand in a surprisingly strong grip, his hand dripping wet in sweat. “Leave me here. I’m done, just leave me… I want to be with my family.”

Rick sat by his side, “Jim, your family is dead. I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”

“Your fever’s been making you delirious, Jim,” I completed, my other hand covering Jim’s on mine. “You’ve been out of it more often than not since last night.”

“I know. Don’t you think I know? I’m clear now, I know what I’m sayin… but in five minutes, I won’t be. I know what I’m asking, I promise you I’m conscious, okay?”

“Okay, Jim, that’s good. But are you sure you’re aware of what you’re suggesting? You want us to leave you here?”

“Yes, I want this. Leave me here. I won’t make it there and I’m just getting worse in here, and this road, I just can’t, please. But hey," he looked up at me, his eyes tired, red, and pained, but also reassuring. "That’s on me, okay? My decision, not your failure. Please, Sam? Rick?” he pleaded and I looked down, my eyes shutting tightly and my fingers squeezing Jim’s hand. “I’d get out there on my own if I could, but I don’t think I can walk… I need you to help me. I don’t want to endanger any of you, and we all know I’m gonna die soon, and if I turn in here…” he started crying, “I don’t want that, please, I don’t want to harm anyone… Just leave me, please, please…”

I had my own eyes wet with unshed tears. “Shh, shh, Jim, it’ll be okay, just calm down, it’s okay.”

Rick looked at me questioningly and I looked back, nodding once at the direction of the door after a second. I let go of Jim’s hand and got up, leaving the RV with Rick right behind me. My heart seemed to have shrunk in my chest, it felt so tight.

“Guys?” I asked at the group that had been gathered nearby. They all joined me and Rick silently. “So, uh… About Jim,” I took a deep breath and looked up rapidly to see Daryl standing way above us all, also listening to me. “He ain’t gonna make it. He’s too sick and he feels like he’s dying,” I crossed my arms and looked down taking a deep breath before stating firmly, “He’s asking to be left behind.”

“Left behind?” Jackie asked, startled. “What do you mean?”

“He wants out of the RV, and he wants to be left to die alone, so he won’t endanger any of us when he does.”

“It’s what he says he wants,” Rick backed me up.

“And he’s lucid?” Carol questioned.

“He seems to be,” Rick nodded.

“He is,” I corrected him. “We’ve seen him delirious, this talk we had now was not it, it was clear.”

“And what do you think?” Glenn asked me.

“I think we should respect his choice. If that’s what he wants, we gotta go with it, no matter what our opinion is. If he was hallucinating or anything, I’d never do it, I’d never leave a man to die like this, but he’s conscious,” I told them firmly and turned to Rick. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yeah… I agree, I think we should do as he says.”

 * * *

 I couldn’t hold it anymore. I’d been holding it in for days already, since I left Merle behind, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As least I wasn’t ugly-crying, I was able to keep it nearly silent, but I didn’t mind to hide it from Daryl. We were alone anyway, and at least it was only him watching me softly break down. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes every few seconds, uncomfortable and unaware of what to say. Long minutes passed as the caravan slowly slid along the road, carefully avoiding stray walkers that tried to reach the cars. The radios were quiet, and even from a different vehicle I could feel the sad energy flowing from the others.

We were silent all along, while my tears stopped falling and I dried my face with the back of my hands.

“Alright?” Daryl asked her quietly.

I took a moment to answer, still looking through the window, the wind on my face, eyes squinting to protect from it. “Merle’s gone. Two people died, bitten by the dead. An entire family decided it was safer to be away from this group… And now I’ve just abandoned a man – for the second time, I abandoned a man,” I turned to look at him, who was staring at the road and stole a quick glance at me as he chewed on his lower lip. “No, I ain’t alright. Ain’t nothing alright.”

“You should stop being so hard on yourself,” Daryl told me gravely. “Ya ain’t done anything alone, and you’d’ve done different if ya could. Had no choice.”

“These people chose me from the beginning to take care of things… How can I not be responsible?”

“Yeah, well, ya should step down then,” Daryl looked at me, his voice a bit louder and firmer. “Got enough problems of your own to deal with. You’re worrying about the group and the camp and the-fuck-ever all the time, not worrying enough about yourself and your kid.”

“There’s nothing I can do different to take care of the kid,” I retorted with the same tone of voice. “What should I be doing? Going to the doctors and having my pre-natal exams?” my voice rose instantly. “Eating my vegetables, taking vitamin tablets? Doing fuckin’ Lamaze classes with the daddy?”

Daryl stared at me in shock for a few moments before turning to look at the road again, wordless. I crossed my arms and looked out the window again, breathing hard.

“Who’s the guy, anyway?” he asked her after another couple of minutes in silence.

“Just some guy. Didn’t matter then, don’t matter now.”

“Pro’ly dead,” he mumbled and I snorted a fake laugh in annoyance.

“You really think I should step down?”

“Should do whatever ya want.”

“Yeah, sure, but what you think?”

“There’s Shane and this Rick guy… They’ve been trying to see who’s got the bigger dick since Rick arrived, both trying to be in charge, and ya gonna get caught in the middle.”

“Women’ve been stepping down to let men command for fear of getting hurt for centuries now,” I told him in a deadpan voice. “I’d only do that if I really do think one of ‘em’s better than me as a leader for the group. Ain’t doing this for fear or anything like that.”

“Never said it’d be for fear. Said it’d be to take care of yourself. You’re entitled to.”

I didn’t answer, only looked forward to the road and curled my legs under myself on the passenger seat, slightly turned towards Daryl.

“What’s with the bird?” he asked, breaking the silence suddenly a few minutes later.

“Huh?” I snapped out of her thoughts. I’d been considering carefully what Daryl had said, about stepping down and letting Rick and Shane settle it themselves and take care of things. I knew Daryl had a point, that every day that passed I was a bit ‘more pregnant’ and the signs would soon start to appear. I’d get big, I’d have trouble being fast, I’d feel tired. But my lack of trust in Shane felt bigger than all of that. If the CDC didn’t work, if we had to stay on the road looking for a place, I was adamant on not to letting Shane be the one to make the important choices. I was still unsure about Rick, but he definitely didn’t feel as bad as his police companion. If I decided to step down – and that was still an enormous if in my mind – I’d decidedly prefer Rick over Shane.

“The tattoo. The hummingbird,” Daryl clarified nodding towards it with his chin. “Why’d you get it?”

I smiled, “I got thirteen tattoos in total,” I confided and he looked at me with his eyebrows raised for a moment before looking again at my arms, eyes dancing over them. I laughed, “You counting?”

“You don’t got thirteen there!”

“Who says they’re all in my arms?”

He looked back at my eyes for just a split second before looking ahead again with a soft “Oh.”

Oh, yeah, he was picturing it. Good.

“Anyway, I got all of ‘em, why’d you ask specifically about the hummingbird?”

“I don’t know… Looks nice,” he confessed in a low, small voice.

I was still smiling at him for a moment before stretching my arm at an angle to be able to look at my hummingbird. “The Aztecs believed their ancient warriors were reincarnated into hummingbirds so they could be around to protect ’em. They’d collect the feathers of dead hummingbirds and use ’em on little bags around their necks,” I smiled and looked at him and his puzzled face, eyebrows furrowed. “But that’s just the legend, what it really means’… Well, hummingbirds are among the smallest birds on earth – I mean, the smallest bird that exists actually is a hummingbird, and ‘cause it’s so tiny, it’s got to work its little ass off to survive. Every day’s a battle, but it keeps flying in all directions with confidence and being strong and graceful.”

Subconsciously, I was smiling after I finished explaining it. After I stopped, Daryl looked from the road to my face, eyebrows furrowed in thought. I laughed a bit awkwardly at his looks and shrugged.

“Yeah, I don’t know, it just – it means something to me.”

“I get it,” he told me and I looked back at him. “The being small thing.”

At that, I laughed out loud, surprising even myself and punched his arm. “I ain’t that short!”

He laughed too, a lot more quietly than me, but he did, with sound and all, and defended himself by leaning towards his door. Who was I kidding, I was short. Just 4’11’’!

“Yeah, y’are! And ow! Quite strong for your size!”

“Yeah, well, that’s what the late Ed wou’ld say.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Didn’t I tell you I beat the crap out of him, while you were gone?”

At his delight, I told Daryl all about what had happened and how much I did not regret doing it. He laughed once more – it had been twice now, more than I had seen him smile or laugh in a very long time. I adored it. Damn, Daryl…

We talked for a while longer before I felt the effects of having been awake all night long. The quiet lull of the motor and balance of the truck on the road made me fall asleep, head resting on my hand against the window frame.

Night had just fallen when the caravan stopped in front of the CDC’s parking lot, the last rays of light still painting the sky a dark blue. I had just woken up when the truck lost speed. I had looked around a bit lost for a moment until Daryl pointed at the building we were getting closer to.

“Don’t look good,” Daryl groaned as we stopped.

Understatement of the year. Even from inside the truck and as we all slid out of the cars, what we saw was not a scene to lift any spirits. Sand bags barricaded, abandoned military cars, and even tanks, as well as an uncountable amount of dead bodies permeating the ground. There were so many flies feeding on the corpses that their buzz was loudly audible. The smell was solid, putrid, and made it physically difficult to breathe. There was no question our group had to go through it, though. We all moved together, nobody having to be told to, stepping over corpses, guns at the ready pointing around, pieces of cloth covering faces against the reek. We reached the doors in no time; a long row of tightly closed, overhead rolling, steel white doors, which didn’t move even a single millimeter when force pushed by Shane and Rick, who had been opening the stroll.

“There’s nobody here!” T-Dog was the first to put the fear in words.

“Then why are the shutters down?” Rick asked angrily to his general direction.

Behind the group, Daryl and I kept watch and saw at the same time a military clad walker appearing from around the building. “Walkers!” Daryl warned before shooting an arrow to its forehead. Panic fell immediately onto the group like downpour. Daryl looked at me, jaw sat in anger. “It’s a fuckin’ graveyard!”

“They pro’ly themselves inside!” I said, but I know that it didn’t sound like I believed my own words.

“It was the wrong fuckin’ call!” Daryl yelled over the other panicked words the others had been saying and turned to Rick, who was still standing looking at the doors.

“Rick, this is a dead end,” Shane was saying, agreeing with Daryl, but still shooting him a dirty look.

“We don’t know that.”

“Babe, we can’t stay here at night!” Lori pleaded, hand tight around Carl’s.

“She’s right, we can’t be this close to the city after dark! Fort Benning, Rick, it’s still an option,” Shane stated.

“We got no fuel for that!” I approached, rifle in hand. “It’s over a hundred miles, we don’t even have any food.”

Shane placed himself between Rick and I, chest puffed, looking down at me. “What the fuck do you suggest then?” he yelled. “You wanted to come here, backed Rick up all the time, it’s on you too!”

“Hey!” Daryl pushed away strongly. “Back the fuck off!”

Deciding to try the door instead of wasting time stopping a fight, I stood by Rick at the doors and started knocking hard on it, hands and feet sounding too loud in the empty city. More walkers started to stumble on their way across the parking lot, the noise promising an opportunity to feed. People around kept asking what we’d do and Shane urged them to move away, back towards the cars.

“Rick? Fuck, Rick, this had to work,” I told in a quiet, anxious voice. “They gotta be inside!”

“We’ll think of something,” he said, sounding terrified.

Just as I took a couple of steps back to follow the group, I saw one of the few vigilance cameras above the doors make a little noise and turn towards us, exactly to the point where Rick and I were standing.

“The camera!” Rick called aloud by my side.

“It moved!” I completed.

“Oh, come on!” Shane cried angrily from behind them. “You imagined it!”

“Both of us?!” I asked turning my head to look at him.

“It moved!” Rick repeated just as Shane marched back to them.

“It’s all dead, man, it’s automatic, there’s no one in there!” And at that, he grabbed Rick’s arm and tried to drag him away. Rick shook him off strongly and kept looking at the camera. I looked around, rifle in hand, to the group and at Daryl, his unsure face telling me nothing about what he was thinking.

“If it’s abandoned, there should be no energy,” I said aloud to cover Shane’s desperate voice. “The camera wouldn’t move!”

“I know you can hear me!” Rick shouted at the camera, completely ignoring his friend.

“Everybody get back to the cars, now!” Shane turned back to the group.

“Please, we’re desperate!” Rick went on and kept pleading, mumbling loudly about how they’d be dead if nobody helped. Shane returned and started really dragging him away now, Daryl approaching to do the same to me as I still hadn’t moved. “You’re killing us! You’re killing us!” Rick was crying as the group got halfway across the parking lot.

“Let’s go,” Daryl uttered quietly and urgently, close to my ear. I felt my eyes well up, chest tightening in sorrow. “There’s nothing here, we gotta go. Come on,” he took my arm and pulled, making me finally turn around and step beside him.

The next second got mixed up with the next ones, all happening in a blur of noise and artificial light and eyes burning at the glow coming from the inside of that door, now rolled up under the loud alarm sound. Everyone was screaming, Rick beckoning everyone to come back and go through the door, people rushing, stumbling on their own feet to get in. Daryl all but dragged me because I had felt stuck on my spot squinting at the light and smoke coming from the doors. We were the last to rush in, the white lights foreign to our eyes after over two months without seeing any.

“Daryl, you cover the back!” we heard Shane shouting and Daryl didn’t think for a second before raising his crossbow and pointing out of the open door.

We were now standing in a lobby, and after those moments it didn’t seem so brightly lit anymore. It was actually dim, our eyes getting used to it. Our voices sound eerily loud in the empty, large space, our feet hitting the polished floors as we looked around carefully, guns raised and pointing in every direction. Raising my own rifle – now completely loaded again – I crossed the group to go stand in front of it with Rick. He was calling out, asking if someone was there, and I stayed quiet like the others. The sound of a gun cocking cut Rick’s voice.

“Hello!” the voice of someone unknown followed it. Everybody turned towards it, other cocking guns imitating the first one. “Anybody infected?” the voice asked just as his silhouette became visible under a threshold just under one of the many stairs the lobby had.

“No,” I answered aloud. “Nobody is bit.”

“Why are you here, what do you want?” he came out of the door, now a real person and not just a figure with a loud voice. The man was pointing a gun, but it was held lowly against his hip, not a very threatening image. His blonde hair was messy and his t-shirt ripped.

“A chance,” Rick’s voice trembled and I glanced quickly at him. He sounded terrified. I mean, calm down man, there was still so much we didn’t try! But if we wanted this man and his fellows to help us, I couldn’t just say yeah, heap us, or not, whatever. I had to make them believe they were our only hope.

“We know that’s asking an awful lot,” I said, looking from Rick to the man. “But there ain’t no hope at all for us out there.”

He didn’t say anything, looking at me for a moment, his face denouncing how hard he was thinking. He let his eyes wander, looking for a moment at each one of us before speaking again.

“You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission.”

“We can do that,” I nodded vigorously.

He lowered his weapon, body visibly relaxing. “You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.”

He then ran across the group toward the door. Shane started shouting instructions to Daryl, T-Dog and Glenn to stand guard back out on the parking lot as the others ran back to where the bags had been left. The group worked without emitting a single word, efficiently, and in less than a minute they were all back, our belongings in hand and on our backs. The CDC man spoke into an interphone on the wall by the door, asking someone to seal it, and the door rolled down noisily, the clicking sounds of it making it clear it was being tightly locked once again. I approached him, my heavy backpack that went up higher than my head hung across my shoulders, just as Rick also went for him, the importance of speaking to this man unpostponable.

“Rick Grimes,” he introduced himself and pointed at me with his head, “Sam –”, he stopped again looking at me in question.

“Danes. Sam Danes,” I completed him reaching out a hand.

He hesitated for a moment, looking at us both, before shaking my hand and taking Rick’s as well. “Dr. Edwin Jenner,” and then he stepped away, announcing aloud to everyone else to follow him. He walked purposefully to a hefty elevator, its doors opened, and motioned everybody in. We crowded the space and the doctor entered at last and pressed a button. The doors closed and the elevator moved. There were gasps and little, quiet whimpers from nearly everyone, and I understood perfectly why. My own stomach felt like it was dropping down, the motion extraneous and the feeling of being closed up in a metal box unnerving.

“Doctors always go around packing heat like that?” Daryl cut the silence with his groaning voice, pointing with his eyebrows at Dr. Jenner’s heavy weapon.

“There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself. But you look harmless enough,” and he looked down at some point, most of us couldn’t see, probably at one of the two children, and smiled. “Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you.”

Awkward silence filled the metal cabin for a while longer while it went down for what felt like minutes. When it stopped and we oozed out of it, following the doctor, we were in a long corridor, ceiling low only centimeters away from the tallest ones’ heads. We were deep underground. The doctor told us to try not to think about claustrophobia now and once again spoke to someone who wasn’t there, who he called Vi, for them to turn on the lights somewhere else.

It was there, in a very big conference-like room, that the doctor finally explained he was the only one there. There was no team, no other doctors, no staff. It was all gone. He did not go into any detail and insisted that the group fulfilled their part of the deal; doing the blood tests.

In a smaller room, he took turns drawing blood from each one of us. I had never liked needles, they made me nervous. As I sat in a gurney next to Andrea, with Jackie nearby, I turned to stare at a wall instead of watching it perforate my skin.

“It’s okay, it’ll will be over in a second,” Jenner said as he noticed my discomfort.

“But what’s the point anyway?” Andrea asked, eyeing the needle in my vein. “If we were infected, we’d all be running a fever.”

“I’ve already broken every rule in the book letting you in here,” he answered without taking his eye off the syringe. “Let me just at least be thorough.”

He removed it and pressed a small cotton ball to the little hole in my arm. I took hold of it and he let go, and I got to my feet. Without another word, Jenner repeated the procedure with Jackie, who was sitting in a chair. We remained silent as we waited.

“Oh, God…” Andrea mumbled after the needle was removed from her arm.

“Are you okay?”

“Dizzy,” she explained.

“She’s weak, and now she’s been drawn of blood,” I said as I rushed to Andrea’s side, a hand resting on her shoulder.

“She hasn't eaten in days. None of us have,” Jackie completed.

“Well, you were the last ones”, Dr. Jenner seemed embarrassed for not having thought of asking about it. “There’s food in the kitchen, we can…” he left the sentence unfinished and headed to the door, holding it open and gesturing for us to go out. I let Jackie guide Andrea to the kitchen and stopped by the doctor, still inside the door. I waited a couple of seconds until the two of them were a bit farther into the hallway and looked at him. He already had a questioning look for me, knowing I would say something.

“Uh, about this test”, I started, but hesitated.

“Yes?”

“What are you really going to be testing for?”

“For infection, I thought I told you that.”

“Yeah, no, I mean…” I paused and ran a hand through my forehead. “Can you do any other test?”

“Like what? Do you need something?” he crossed his arms.

I stretched my neck to look outside and see we were really alone and looked again at him. I also crossed my arms and stood a bit closer to him. “Okay, so what I’m about to ask you is confidential, okay? You can’t tell anybody else. Please?”

His face showed just how suspicious he got within the second. “Have you been bitten and didn’t tell any of them?”

“Shh, no!” I whispered urgently. “No, I ain’t bit, it’s not that. Not that bad, I guess.”

“Well, if it’s not anything that bad then I guess alright, I can… Not tell anybody”.

“Okay… It’s just, uh… I’d like you to test my blood for… Well, to do a pregnancy test”.

He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly.

“Just to confirm,” I added quietly.

“Uh, sure, uh… Okay. Will do.”

“Okay… Thanks doc.”

With that, I breathed in sharply, smiled, and slapped his arm, attempting to lighten the mood, and then left the room, rushing after Andrea and Jackie.

 * * *

 Eating around a table with actual plates and forks. Laughing. Just general laughing – at a child who wants to try wine, at a young man who can’t hold his liquor, at nothing, really – felt just so completely foreign, just so shatteringly out of place, that all I could do was laugh along. No wine for me – but a glass of nicely done orange juice from a packet with actual ice cubes in it did just fine. Daryl was laughing and it lit up some warmth on my face, the warmth to my face I remembered feeling when I used to have the first glass of wine of the night (a glass, a cup, a mug – whatever I had at hand). It was sad he had only laughed like that after drinking, I thought for just a moment, but then remembered him laughing with me in the car just hours before.

This was the only good time this group had ever had together, since it all began.

But it all got spoiled when Shane decided it was time to ask Doctor Jenner about what had happened there, to the other doctors and the researches that used to be there. The mood took a deep dive when, now to the silent group, the worn-out doctor told us most of the others abandoned the place to go looking for their own families and their own attempt to escape. And when the military outside got overrun, the remaining ones had, in Jenner’s own words, opted out.

The promise for comfortable cots and couches to sleep on lit up the mood once again, but it was the simple expression “hot showers” that made all of us smile, wine in their systems or not. The changing rooms with the roll in showers were in the end of a long hallway where several doors led to small private rooms. After taking my packs to one of the rooms, halfway through the hall, I headed to the showers, taking the least dirty clothes I could find. The water was hot as Jenner had promised and it felt foreign on my skin, the first hit like thousands of tiny pins and needles poking into me. The water that fell down my body and oozed down the floor to the drain had an ugly beige shade, which turned nearly brown when I scrubbed my head, the dreadlocks requiring attention one by one. Jenner had asked us not to take too long, but it was humanly impossible to be quick. The hot water felt too good, too damn good after the first shock ceased, and now it had no color on its way to the drain.

The small hotel-like soap was nearly half the size it had been in the beginning of the shower as it was scrubbed down my stomach and it was then that I tensed once again. Looking down to confirm what my hands had felt, I noticed a bump. A small, barely visible baby bump was there. My hands rested on it, unmoving, frozen. Every fear and anticipation I’d been feeling by the very idea of being pregnant rushed through my head, now enlarged by the sudden, unannounced certainty.

Jenner would run the pregnancy test on my blood. I wondered if I should go looking for him and tell him it wouldn’t be necessary. Out of the shower, toweled dry and dressed, I walked through the hall without noticing I had done any of it.

“Hey,” I heard Daryl’s voice call and looked to my right, into an open door. Daryl was inside, next to the couch that sat by the right wall, my bag on a cot by the left wall. “We stayin’ here,” he told me.

Without thinking about my plan to see Jenner, I entered, used towel and dirty clothes held close to my chest. “You gonna shower?” I asked him with only half of my mind.

“There still hot water?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I might.”

With that, I looked at him. I could smell the contrast between my own clean, freshly-scrubbed skin, and his; a mixture of days-long sweat, road dirt, and blood. We were all used to it by then, I was used to feeling this peculiar smell on Daryl, a smell that in anytime of my life would have made me gag, but now it was just normal, just what it was.

“Daryl,” I said to make him look at me. “Go shower, seriously.”

Instead of an answer, Daryl frowned in thought and leaned in closer to me. I just stood there, bit frozen, wondering what on earth he was doing, and he just sniffed, smelling the air around my body. I could feel a little hint of wine on him, but the sour sweat mostly covered it up.

“You think you smellin’ any better than me?” he said as he backed away.

“I’m absolutely sure I am!” I fanned the air where he had been.

“You think this stinks?” Daryl raised an arm and crowded onto me, our height difference placing his armpit perfectly in-line with my face. “It don’t stink, smell that!”

I screamed and tried to get away from him as I slapped his ribs, but he held on to me with the hand that wasn’t raised to keep me in place as he forced me to get a whiff of his hairy, reeking armpit. He was laughing out loud as I was screaming, although I couldn’t help but laugh with him. I had climbed over the cot when he finally stopped and retreated, broad smile on his slightly reddened face.

“Fuckin’ geez, Daryl, ya wanna kill me, throw me to the walkers, don’t torture me slowly,” I said as I lowered myself to the floor again. He had his back to me now, crouched down, fumbling into his backpack.

“Not ‘bout to kill ya, darlin’, gonna need ya fine and alive,” he got up and headed to the door, carrying a change of clothes in hand. He left the room without looking at me again, but in the hallway, he repeated aloud, “Fine’n’alive!”

My face muscles were hurting form smiling so much and I kept smiling even and I laid down in bed before falling asleep.

Damn, Daryl…

[obsessed-with-fictional-boys]

5 Years Older

ENDGAME SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay so I know like no one’s gonna read this but I’m gonna post it anyway.

Imagine: Reuniting with Peter after the snap

Word Count: 1403

This isn’t a request I just saw Endgame today and had random inspiration!!

(Also be warned it really hasn’t been edited)

It was supposed to be a normal day. Or, what you would call normal in today’s world. With half of the universe gone, including my widowed mother, all I did was try to survive. At 7:30 in the morning, I woke up and rode my bicycle to the nearest corner store. I dropped what was left of my mom’s savings onto the counter and bought a box of cereal, which would last me at most a few weeks, peanut butter, and a loaf of bread, which would last me a week if I only ate half-sandwiches every day. Tomorrow I’d have to go through my mom’s things for money.

Riding back home, I opened the old screen door and plopped down on the couch. With the power gone out cause I couldn’t pay the bills, I flicked through some old comic books, slowly eating a peanut butter sandwich, desperately trying to make it last longer. I couldn’t bear to get up and go through my mom’s things to see what I could sell. It was just too painful.

Right after my mom died, I immediately started researching--after I stopped crying. And the Avengers--well, the ones that were still alive--had posted something about how this Titan, Thanos, had collected things called infinity stones and wiped out half the population of the universe. I didn’t want to believe it, but since I live in a world where aliens pour through a wormhole in space and gamma rays can turn you green and angry, I didn’t think they’d made it up. And I wanted to go up and punch Thanos right across his purple, grape-looking, potato-chip looking chin.

I visited the memorial of all the Vanished and cried when I saw the name of my best friend, Peter Parker, among them. I knew he was Spider-man, but I didn’t exactly realize how dangerous the job actually was until this. Until Thanos.

5 whole years I’d spent like this, doing nothing with my life other than eating and sitting. Occasionally I’d bike around the block, but even then I was surviving off so little food I couldn’t keep it up for long. I was trying to make my money last. I’d lasted maybe a year and a half off the money I’d made during my night-time job. But with the owner of the restaurant vanished, and with almost everyone in Lily Dale, New York dusted, there wasn’t much I could do to get money. Once I tried to visit another restaurant, but the owner had thrown me out after a day because I ‘didn’t look cleanly enough.’ And perhaps the fact that I accidentally spilled a whole gallon of tea because a customer tripped me set the owner off.

Later that day, a little after noon while I was playing solitaire, I heard a loud thump upstairs in my mom’s bedroom. I froze, listening, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I crept quietly towards the kitchen and grabbed my dad’s old shotgun. It wasn’t loaded, but the intruder didn’t need to know yet. I cautiously crept up the stairs, my footsteps light and calculating, as not to make the floor creak. I burst into the room, screaming, “Hands up!” while aiming the shotgun straight at the intruder’s chest. Except the intruder was my-

“Mom?!” The shotgun clattered to my side, forgotten.

“Sweetheart!” My mom breathed, rushing to me and hugging me. I started crying right then and there. I sobbed into her shoulder, but then she pulled away from me and looked at me.

“You’ve grown!” She said, her eyes glistening with tears.

“And you haven’t aged a day,” I say, wiping my tears on my sleeve.

Wait. If mom’s back...wouldn’t that mean Peter would be too?

My mom ushered me downstairs, and we had dinner (which was cereal and sandwiches) and talked about everything that had happened over the past 5 years.

“So school just...stopped?” My mom questioned, shoving the rest of her sandwich in her mouth.

“Yeah. So many people got dusted that the school just stopped running.”

We kept talking, but even through all that Peter was still on my mind. I was worried about him.

That night, while my mom was at the store, I heard a knock at the door. I grabbed the shotgun again, but this time I just walked straight up to the door. I threw it open and saw Peter. His eyes were red and puffy, but he looked alive and well. I stepped out onto the front porch, setting the shotgun down on the interior of the doorway. I circled around him, inspecting him for any signs of battle. He watched me cautiously, and I could see the gears turning in his brain as he tried to calculate my reaction.

I stopped circling and stood directly in front of him.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” I said, smiling at him. He exhaled in relief, leaning in to hug me. I accepted it, but my heart was still beating inside my chest rapidly. Even after 5 years, he still was able to make my heart go crazy.

“And you changed completely.”

“I missed you,” he mumbled into my shoulder.

“I missed you too.”

We stayed like that for a minute, but I realized that we were just standing out on the front porch, so I ushered him inside and sat him down on our couch.

“Sorry that everything’s a little messy, I’ve been living by myself for 5 years.”

He gaped at me, “Five years! You’re five years older than me! You’ve been living alone!” He started to ramble more stuff, but I shoved a bowl of cereal in his face.

“I’m fine. Money didn’t run out.” I paused, then rubbed my face. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie, and maybe I had to go hungry a few days. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that you’re here, alive and breathing.” He kind of stared at me, probably being the worrywart he is. He looked me up and down once, and I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Come home with me.” He said bluntly.

I gaped at him. “Uh, what?”

“Come home with me. You haven’t been eating enough, and surviving off cereal and peanut butter is really bad.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Plus, Aunt May makes really good lasagna.”

I paused, then said, “Alright.”

“Wait, really? I thought you would’ve put up more of a fight.”

“Wow, nice to know you think so highly of me.” I crossed the room, grabbing a blank piece of paper and pencil to scribble out a quick note to my mom. I shrugged into my coat and motioned for him to go out the door.

“Lead the way, Spider-boy.”

As Peter walked me home from his house, we bumped shoulders and talked about everything and anything. Mostly it was me updating him about all that had happened lately. Eventually, his hand just sorta slipped into mine, but I didn’t choose to mention it.

Until I did.

“What’s this?” I said, motioning to our intertwined hands. Peter looked at me sheepishly, and let go of my hand quickly. I grabbed his hand again and said, “I never said I didn’t like it. I was just wondering why you did it.”

He sent a heart-stopping grin my way. “I spent 5 years in the soul stone. I guess I just felt spontaneous.”  

We arrived at my house, and I stepped on the front step of the porch and turned to face Peter.

“Maybe I’ll be spontaneous too,” I said, bending down to press a quick kiss to his cheek. I leaned back up and turned to go but Peter caught my arm.

“You missed.”

“I-what?” I laughed, turning back to him.

“You missed,” he said, shrugging.

I giggled and pressed a kiss to his lips. My face turned ruby red and I rushed up the stairs and inside. In the doorway, I turned slightly and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pete.”

He grinned, and I closed the door. I quickly rushed to the window and pulled back the curtains and saw him smile and brush his fingers across his lips. He looked my way, and I blushed again but blew him a kiss. He smiled a real and genuine smile, and I couldn’t help but sigh wonderfully.

I was in love with a superhero.

So this is the first one-shot/imagine I’ve done on this website, so tell me what you think!! Also send in requests please I have no inspiration (only random moments)

[damnthoseyes]

Best Friends with CNCO

Full disclosure: I haven’t written anything in a VERY long time so I’m rusty as hell. Bear with me. Also, I learnt something while brainstorming for this: Erick is fucking difficult! It was really hard for me to come up with ideas for him for some reason.. And another thing: this is pretty long. Parts were pretty inspired and kind of got away from me. Anyway, here goes nothing

Caution: contains swearing. A lot of it.

Disclaimer: GIFs are definitely not mine

Christopher 

 Random giggle fits all the fucking time

Tickle wars

Going to restaurants and ordering way too much food, sharing everything then arguing over what was the best and worst

Food comas all the time

Constantly trying to get you to come out to clubs with him and Richard

Getting distracted by cakes in shop windows and salivating until you give in and buy everything

Pop punk sessions

Headbanging until you both have headaches

Him filming everything all the time until you want to throw his phone into the river

Always beating you at pool

Making faces at each other from across the room when you’re talking to other people

Literally acting like children all the time because you’re both grown ups

Unable to take anything seriously for more than 5 minutes

“STOP BITING ME!!”

Burying his head in your shoulder whenever he wants to laugh at inappropriate times

Having to drag him outside sometimes so he can experience some natural heat and be reintroduced to the sun

Half begging you to get food all the time and constantly complaining about being hungry until you stop whatever you’re doing just to shut him up

Constantly calling you a princess - sometimes affectionately and sometimes insultingly

Randomly singing all the time

Playing with his hair

Def-con one whenever he’s even remotely upset

“DALE”

Going “ay papa” at the same time in the same tone whenever you know he’s going to say it

Having to deal with his hypo ass

“How the fuck are you so perky?”

*coming over*

Chris: GOOD MORNING!!!

You: what’s so good about it? It’s 6am, why are you alive?

Richard

So many dirty jokes

Trading books

Him constantly trying to tell you how to dress and you flat out refusing to take his advice

Hard core car D&Ms

Random dance parties that go on for way too long

Slapping each other with random objects

Constantly trying to find activities for you guys to do 

Having to stop him from buying entire stores

Threatening to leave him behind because he’s taking too long

Always trying to scare you then getting into a mini punch on when he really gets you

Always trying to lift you off the ground and cut off your breathing

“CAN YOU PUT A SHIRT ON FOR THE LOVE OF GOD?!”

Yelling at each other from across the room because you actually can’t be fucked getting up

Always swearing

Super protective all the time especially around men

Hunting for coffee at all hours

So many play fights

King and Queen of Pessimism

Calling him out for being short

“SO ARE YOU!! Leave me alone.”

Constantly shoving his phone in your face to show you pictures and videos of Aaliyah 

Using her as a decoy whenever he says something to piss you off

Calling you whenever she’s playing with another boy and consulting with you on whether or not he should break it up 

Having to remind him that she’s a baby and that if he’s like this now, imagine what’s going to happen when she’s a teenager

Him wanting to kill you for putting that thought into his head

“You think you’ve got problems, try having a kid.”

Never having a come back for this 

Late night drinks after long days

*Seeing something unsettling*

Richard: *does that scream thing*

You: would you shUT THE FUCK UP?”

“Can you let go of my fucking ears?”

Yelling VAMANOS and clapping aggressively whenever he comes to pick you up and you’re not ready yet

Suffering from his death grip on your shoulder whenever he sees a gorgeous girl on the street

Zoning out whenever he’s talking about a girl

Richard: are you listening to me? I think I just found the love of my life!

He finds the “love of his life” at least twice a week 

Nuzzling into his arm and trying to get his face whenever he has his head on a table because he’s tired or doesn’t want to deal with the world, just to quietly try to make him laugh

Zabdiel

Random cuddles all the time

Zabdiel: Are you okay?

You: Yeah, why?

Zabdiel: It’s ok, just cuddle

You: Get the hell away from me

Constantly having to pull him out of bed when he sleeps through your meeting time

You: ZabdIEL GET UP

Zabdiel: *grumbles*

You: I’m starving, GET THE HELL UP

Zabdiel: *grumbles*

You: Zabdiel, the world is coming to an end! You’re our only hope!

Zabdiel: *waves you away mumbling an mmhmm*

Falling asleep on you all the time

Naps for days

*Daily life*

Zabdiel: you really need to relax

You: you really need to shut the fuck up

Him trying to get you into yoga

In depth discussions on your travel plans

Always underestimating his size

Feeling very small whenever he stands very close to you 

“Fucking tree”

Making him reach for stuff

Actual bear hugs

Stealing his clothes even though he’s supremely broad

Death stares all the time

Watching documentaries on the most random topic because he just wants to learn

“How do you say this?”

Having to pronounce everything at least 3 times

Scaring you out of your daze whenever he makes any kind of noise while you’re trying to concentrate since he’s usually so quiet

Resting his forearm on your shoulder to alert you to his presence because the world is tiny to him 

Joel

Always going to musicals whenever good ones are in the city

Stealing his hats

Constantly trying to maintain conversations in various accents

Steering him away from pet stores and puppies on the street

Joel: PUPPY!!

You: No! Joel, no!! You can’t just take someone’s dog!

Joel: BUT I LOVE HIM

Netflix binge sessions

Stealing his clothes

“Step away from the mirror”

Constantly stealing food off your plate

You: GET YOUR OWN

Joel: ONE MORE

All the chocolate

Having to pull him out of shops because you’ve spent way too long looking at the same things

Making up games to kill time and getting way too competitive

Refusing to play board games with him because he cheats like crazy

Quoting dialogue from movies and making it sound like an unscripted conversation you’re actually having

Constantly trying to find new things to try and seriously criticizing them

*Daily life*

Joel: You look really pretty today

You: *suspicious* what do you want?

Joel: What, I can’t tell you you look pretty?

You: *raises eyebrows*

Joel: *sighs* are you busy tomorrow, I need a favour

*Waiting for him to get ready*

You: Your hair looks fine! Let’s go!

Joel: JUST FINE?!

You: Your hair is the most perfect thing in the universe LET’S GO

Erick

Constantly running jokes by you, never actually taking your opinion but asking for it anyway

Always sticking your tongues out at each other

Binge watching TV shows and getting way too invested

“Come on, mama’s boy!”

Cuddles all the time especially when he’s embarrassed

Having to defend him against the other guys when they start picking on him

Erick Colon Defence Squad

Nudging him back to reality when he goes off in his own little world

Always going to each other for advice

Saving each other from awkward conversations

“First one to laugh loses” competitions

Screaming matches whenever you play games because you both think the other cheats

Basically his personal photographer

Hugging you a little too tightly whenever he makes a joke at your expense

Stealing his beanies and actually trying to get away with wearing them in front of him without him trying to get it back

Him stealing your earrings all the time

Him falling asleep on your legs

Making funny faces at him whenever he gets too serious

*Every time you’re going out*

Erick: How’s the hair?

You: ...get the fuck out of the house

Mocking him when he tries to hit on girls

Letting him rant for a while just to see where he’s going to go with a particular topic

Making up random stories about what people are talking about on the street when you’re bored

Coming up with pranks and arguing over whose ideas are better

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

A Strange Coincidence: Part 6

Stephen Strange x Reader, Slow Burn, Female Pronouns

A Strange Coincidence Masterlist

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: You’re a student who just moved to New York City to finish your PhD in Archeology.  But, things turn for the strange when you accidentally stumble upon 177a Bleecker Street.

A/N: Wow, it’s been a long time.  Hopefully y’all still remember me! This have been a little crazy on my end, mostly my post-grad existential crisis, but I’m mostly over it now.  I’m going to me moving to Burbank in the next few days so things are going to still be a little up in the air, but they’ll be stable enough for me to be hopefully posting on a somewhat regular basis again. Thanks for all your patients.  Love you guys!

Word Count: 3.2 K

         You woke up in a haze. The light shined through your bedroom window, blinding your already bleary eyes.  

          All sense of time was lost.  It could have been seven in the morning or three in the afternoon and you wouldn’t have known the difference.  You rolled over, giving yourself time for your mind to catch up with your body.

          Everything hurt.  Not the dull throb of a hangover hurt, rather the morning after doing five hours at the gym when you hadn’t gone in six months. You tried to remember the events from the night before.  You were still in your clothes and your mouth didn’t taste of anything besides sleep. It hurt to think.  Every time you tried to remember you were instead bombarded by the images of a nightmare until reality and dreams blurred together.

          Your phone rang, forcing you from your thoughts.  You didn’t even bother to check caller ID when you answered.

          “Hello?”

          “Ms. Y/L/N.”

          You bolted upright, your mind pulling into sharp focus at the sound of your boss’s voice.

          “Doctor Lewis,” you greeted, swallowing the roughness of sleep from your throat.  “What can I do for you?”

          “I need you to come to the museum right away,” he answered in a clipped tone. “There’s been a break in.  The police need to question the entire staff.”

          It was then, everything came back to you.

          “Of course,” you said, automatically. “I’ll be there right away.”

          “Good, I expect you here in less than a half an hour.”

He hung up before you had a chance to respond, leaving you in a stunned stupor.

          You got up and dressed in a daze. It couldn’t possibly be real.  Doctor Strange, Dorgrath, your nightmare, magic, elder gods, all of it, it couldn’t exist. But then again, you weren’t that imaginative. The images from the night before and Strange’s promise echoed in your mind, following you until you were out the door and walking toward the museum.

          Real or not, you needed a plan.  There was no telling what the security cameras picked up.  How were you going to explain what happened when you didn’t even know for certain what did happen?  How were you going to explain what it was you saw?

          You shuttered at the memory, forcing yourself forward. All you could do was wait and see.

          Two police cars were parked outside of the entrance to the Tomb.  Several of the staff were already gathered around while Doctor Lewis was talking to a detective.  

          It was an odd sight.  You had never met anyone who looked more like a stock image of an old history professor, than Doctor Lewis. He always wore a tweed jacket the same way a high school football player would wear their team letterman jacket. Well-kept white hair and bread gave the air of aged dignity paired with a British accent to allow just the right amount of presumed superiority.  It was such a cliché that having him talk to the police looked like something out of a police procedural.  Unfortunately for you, it was anything but fictional.

          “I am well aware of the state of our security,” Doctor Lewis defended.  “I still don’t see how it’s our fault we got robbed.”

          “I’m not saying that,” the detective said, in a tired tone. “I’m simply stating, I’m surprised you haven’t been robbed earlier.  None of your cameras picked up anything during the time of the robbery, and your wiring isn’t up to code.”

          It took everything in you not to audibly sigh in relief.  

          “What are you saying?” Lewis asked. “Somebody saw the lights were off and in the spur of the moment decided to steal from us?”

          “No, but it wouldn’t take much to tamper with the power, not the mention the door was unlocked.”

          Doctor Lewis jaw twitched. “Yes.  Rest assured I will give our security staff a good talking too, and prompt termination.”

          “It wasn’t their fault,” you said, calling attention to yourself.  The detective looked at you with professional interest while Doctor Lewis reminded you of your father after you stayed out late with a friend.

          Your swallowed, in an attempt to steal your sudden nerves. “I told Jimmy to leave the keys with me.”

           “You’re Ms. Y/N,” the detective asked, taking a quick look at his notes.

           “Yes sir.”

           “You were the last one to leave the museum last night?”

           “That I know of.”

           He nodded. “Ms. Y/N, where were you between the hours of 9:30 and midnight last night?”

           “Either going insane or being processed by a demon, yourself?”, you thought. But you answered with, “I was at home.”

           “Can anyone verify that?”

           “No,” you said, your stomach twisting a little. “I live alone.”

           You had the sudden wish for Doctor Strange to appear beside you.  Between the two of you, maybe you could come up with a better lie.  Just knowing someone was on your side, and an assurance you weren’t going crazy would be enough.

           “What did you do before you left?” the detective continued.

           “I was working, but then the power went out, and I got scared.” You shifted your stance, and looked down, hoping to portray the right amount of embarrassment. “I guess, I must have left the keys on the desk when I ran out.”

           You glanced up slightly to see the detective and Doctor Lewis exchange an exasperated look which screamed: “Women? Am I right?”

           Never in your life were you so grateful for internalized misogyny.

           “Ms. Y/N, did you by chance catch a Dale Clemton on your way out?” the detective asked.

           “No, sorry.”

           “You’re not suggesting—” Doctor Lewis started, but the detective cut in.

           “He didn’t show up for work last night and he hasn’t been responding to any of your calls.  I think he’s worth looking into is all.”  The detective then turned to you, with a half-smile.  “I’m sorry to take up your time, miss.  If you think of anything, please give me a call.”

           He went to hand you his card, only to be intercepted by Doctor Lewis.

           “If any of my employees think of something, I will let you know,” he said, coolly.

           The detective knew better than to argue.  With a nod, he walked back to the police cars.

           “Disgusting,” Doctor Lewis mumbled. “Insignificant little…something or other.”  His shoulders were still tense, but he kept the rest of his choice profanities to himself.

           “If I can ask,” you said, careful to make sure his frustration remained with someone other than you. “What was stolen?”

           “Only pieces in the basement, thank God,” he answered. “Some of the Egyptian statues, a handful of Nordic ruins, and a good deal of the Assyrian collection.”

           You let out a breath. Sympathy for your colleagues aside, it did pull the spotlight off of you as a suspect.

           “Oh, I am sorry Y/N,” Doctor Lewis said, remembering himself. “Your thesis. I’m not sure how you’ll be able to finish without the pieces.”

           Your stomach dropped out from under you at that little reminder. A fresh new panic washed over you.  Right. The reason why you worked at the museum in the first place was now gone. Lovely.

           “I don’t feel it’s right for you to have to start over,” he continued.  “But given the circumstances—"

          “I’ll be able to finish!” you said, quickly.  You could feel your hands shaking.  “I’ve done so much research already.  I have all my notes compiled. I promise I can finish based on what I have. It won’t be a problem.  Please.”

          Doctor Lewis eyed you wearily, but slowly nodded his head.

           “If you say so. There are still pieces on display you can examine, and a few which weren’t stolen.  But you are certain you can finish.”

          You nodded insistently, even as your insides turned over.

          He seemed to take it at face value before letting out a long sigh. “You might as well go home.  The museum will be closed for a few days.  I expect at least ten pages on my desk by Friday since you’re not working.”

           You didn’t need to be told twice.  With a quick promise to do just that, you took your exit.  Writing would have to wait, you needed to see a Doctor.

           You bounded up the last few steps to the Sanctum Santorum, taking a pause to catch your breath.  

           As soon as you were out of sight of the museum, you had broken out into a full out sprint.  You were out of practice, but the combination of fear and excitement had pushed your forward. If you had been dreaming, and the robbery at the museum was just a coincidence, then there was a good 75% chance you were going completely insane.  But, if you weren’t dreaming.  Doctor Strange had made you a promise, and you were going to make him keep it.

           Straightening up, you raised your hand to knock.  

          The door opened before you could touch it.

           A wide smile spread across your face.  Without a second thought to the outside world, you stepped inside.

           The entry way felt brighter now.  You hadn’t realized until that point you had only seen it at night.  Light shone through the windows giving a warm glow to the wood interior.

           A soft click caught your attention.  Turning around, you saw the cloak floating there, presumably having closed the door behind you. A wave of relief washed over you at the sight.  

           “Hello, again,” you greeted.

           The cloak gave a little excited wiggle as it glided toward you, spinning quickly around your body before flying up the staircase. You let out a small laugh, taking it as an invitation to follow.  

           It was hard not to stare at everything as you walked further in.  For all you knew any tapestry or trinket you walked passed was secretly a magical weapon or ancient summoning ritual.  There idea of anything there being décor for its own sake struck you as rather silly.

           Soon you found yourself in a familiar space, surrounded by glass cases holding items of what could only be great significance.  The cloak led you forward until you were in view of a large round window with an odd, eye shape design overlooking the skyline of Manhattan. And there, with a growingly familiar half smile, stood Doctor Strange.

            “You came back.” His tone was light, but it couldn’t hide the trace of genuine surprise.

           “Did you think I wouldn’t?” you asked.

           “I wasn’t sure,” he said, honestly. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”

           You shrugged.  “Like I said, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

           “Clearly.” A small, almost proud smile crossed his lips. You weren’t sure why, but you felt your heart beat a little faster at the sight of it.  

           “I was called to the museum is morning,” you said, deciding not to dwell on it. “Apparently there was a break in.”

           “Oh, that’s a shame,” he said, innocently.  

           “And apparently whoever robbed us took quite a variety of items.”

           He paused, in mock thought. “Well, it sounds to me whoever broke in was just grabbing all they could find.  Not all that sophisticated.  Some of the items will probably pop up on the art market sooner rather than later.”

           A small bit of relief filled you. “Thank you. But don’t you mean, all of the items?”

           “Some,” he emphasized. “That museum of yours is a minefield of mystical energy. I’m surprised something wasn’t brought to this world earlier.”

           “Should we be worried?”

           Strange shook his head. “Wong and I put a seal around the building.  Even if something does come through, they won’t make it passed the perimeter.”

           “You make it sound easy,” you joked.

           “Trust me, it isn’t.”  

          You weren’t sure what to say to that.  Luckily, it wasn’t required as Strange took a step down towards you.

          “But, first things first.  Let me give you the tour.”

           There didn’t seem to be an end to it.  Every time you thought you had covered every inch of the Sanctum, there was another door which lead to more doors, and rooms and places you either could or could not enter.  It seemed impossible, and then you realized it probably was.

           It was all so peculiar that rooms as simple as a kitchen or bedroom felt like out of place. You said as much to Strange, causing him to laugh.

           “I’d say you get used to it, but you never really do. Luckily, this next room is nice sanctuary from it all.”  

           He led you down the hallway to a set of large double doors.  He paused in front, turning to look at you over his shoulder.  With a smirk, he pulled the doors open, revealing the largest personal library you had ever seen in your life.  

           You stepped into the room in awe. Shelves and shelves lined the walls with even more running down the length of the room.  The only reason they stopped was for the large table in the center. There were already a stack of books and paper littering its surface illuminated by a source, you couldn’t place.

           “Impressed?” Strange asked.

           You glanced at him to see he was looking at you with an amused expression. Under normal circumstances, you would have been annoyed, but you were too enraptured to care.

“This place has everything, doesn’t it?”

“Not everything,” he admitted, with a shrug. “There are some books you can only read in Kamar-taj. It would also be best to practice your spell casting there as well.”

           You creased your brow in confusion. “Kamar-taj? Where’s that?”

           “Tibet.”

           “Tibet?”

           He nodded, stepping out of the room and back down the hallway.  You stood there for a moment in shock, before finally gaining your senses and following after him.  

           “Doctor Strange, I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

           “I am.”

           “But…” You choked on all the words you wanted to say.  How could he just say “Tibet” so casually like it was taking a day trip to the country?

           “Doctor, I can’t just go to Tibet.”

           “Why not? You said, you wanted to learn.”

           He stepped through another set of doors.  You followed after him, barely noticing the small pillar in the center of the room until you almost ran into it.

           “And you said I couldn’t if it interfered with my studies here.  Do you know how much a plane ride cost?”

           “Eight-hundred and seventy-two dollars one way,” he answered.

           “Exactly!”

           “Trust me, money won’t be a problem.”  He stepped through another door, this time leading into another library. It was just as big as the last one, but the shelves were much older, and not as highly staked.  For a moment, you wondered where he could be leading you, but the immediate concern of Tibet, quickly shoved the thought to the back of your mind.

           “Maybe not for you, but it is for me,” you said.

           “What happened to not being able to afford to be broke?” he teased.

           “That’s living New York, not gathering frequent flyer miles to Tibet!”

He didn’t say anything, continuing to lead on until you were upon another set of doors.

“I just don’t see why I can’t just study at home,” you insisted.  

           “Why would you want to go home?” he asked. “You’re already here.”

           “What?”

           He shot you a sideways smile before placing a hand on the doorknob and opening the door.

           If the library had impressed you, this left you in awe.  

          A stone courtyard lay before you opening up into a sparling compound designed with intricately carved wooden pillars, stone statues, and tiered rooftops. In the distance, you could see the tops of mountains surrounding you on all sides. An assortment of people ranging in age and nationality wandered through, dressed in red robes, similar to Strange. Some were simply walking buy, talking with scrolls under their arms.  A group on the far end were sparing while others were practicing, what you could only presume as spells.  

          You stepped down feeling a chill run up your spine.  The air was cool and clean, a far cry from the clustered mugginess of New York. This wasn’t an illusion.  You were just in New York, and now, you were somewhere else.

          Slowly, you turned to Strange.

           “This is Kamar-taj, isn’t it?”

           He nodded, with that same bemused expression on his face.  You weren’t sure if it was from seeing you off balance, or if this was his way of showing off. Either way, you couldn’t really be that mad about it.

           You looked back at the courtyard as a smile spread across your face. “Y/N, you’re really not in Kansas anymore,” you said, softly.

           “Understatement,” Strange said. He took a place beside you, looking out in the courtyard.  

           “Is everyone here a wizard too,” you asked.

           “Master of the Mystic Arts,” he corrected, with only surface level annoyance. “And yes, most of them are, but some are training to be.”

           “I didn’t realize there were so many.”

           “Protecting the Earth is a full-time job, considering what else is out there.”

           The image of fire, and the contorted limbs flashed into your mind. Dorgrath, the Unnamed One; they were just the tip of the iceberg. And something told you, they weren’t even the worst of it. A chill ran up your spine.

          Evidently, Strange took notice, as his voice became uncharacteristically soft.  

          “You still can go back to Kansas,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

          You turned to him, slightly taken aback by how close he actually was.  His blue eyes gazed intently into yours, effectively conveying the sincerity of his words.  Oddly enough, the concern so evident in his features only cemented your resolve.

          “Not on your life Scarecrow.”

          His lip twisted up to a slight smile at your words.

          “Scarecrow?” he questioned.

          “Either that or Glinda.” You shrugged. “And I’m not sure if you can pull off pink.”

          “That’s…fair?”

          You laughed lightly, before looking out into the courtyard once more.  This morning you almost had a panic attack over possibly having to start your thesis over, and now you were signing on to fighting demons.  Maybe you were going just a little mad after all.

          “Where should we start Doctor or, should I call you Master Strange now?”

          “Doctor is fine,” he assured. “Or if you’re really feeling crazy, you can even call me Stephen.”

          “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

          He rolled his eyes at your response, before nodding his head towards the sparing group.

          “Let’s start with some basics.  Have you ever taken a self-defense class?”

          “Does fencing count?”

          “No,” he said, tilting his head curiously.  Fencing?”

          You shrugged. “It was in grad school.  Some of the Medieval history students thought it would be fun to form a club.  I got pretty good with a broad sword.”

          He nodded, looking just a little impressed by your answer.

          “That, and I wanted to be a Jedi,” you said, with a half-smile.

          “That checks out,” he said, dryly.

          You chuckled lightly, as Strange grinned at your reaction.

          “Shall we get started then, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked.

          “Lead the way Doctor Strange.”

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[flyaway-33]

Yesterday-- Part 2

Story summary: Pre-Smile Era. You and Roger are best friends with benefits after having met at a dorm meeting the first night at university. The two of you navigate the newfound freedom of life away from home and learn more about each other and yourselves than you ever expected. 

Part 1 here

[Sorry for the shit quality but this is what I picture Roger as for this story, but feel free to picture him however you want!]

Part 2 Summary: Roger and reader have a mischievous weekend adventure so that Roger can show reader his talent. 5k words.

Warnings: 18+, heavy petting smut, language, fluff, slight humiliation.

Disclaimer: This is only a work of fiction. Song lyrics— I Got You by James Brown

A/N: This chapter was so much fun to write! I hope you all like it. Just a comment can really make my day. 

The morning you and Roger had spent together had turned into afternoon before you’d finally come back to your own room to get showered and changed for the day, and you left Roger to his own devices for the time being. You knew whoever was ready for the day first would be knocking on the other’s door in no time. Your roommate Amy was starting to get tired of his many visits both at night and during the day, just as his roommate Dale was already sick of you to the point where he’d started making himself sparse. His parents lived in London after all and Roger had told you the only reason he had a dorm room was because his parents were trying to kick their little bird out of the nest. Tensions were growing high between roommates as the end of the semester drew near and neither of you cared what either of them thought thought, as Amy had a different boy over every week and Dale was messy as could be and it drove Roger crazy.

Meeting Roger you’d never guess that he was such a clean freak. He was all boy through and through, and the first impression a person would get from him was that he was rough and tumble and probably the stereotypical, messy college boy with a room that looked like ground zero for World War three. He wouldn’t strike anyone as particular in any way about his space when in reality he was the cleanest person you’d ever met. You discovered early on that he couldn’t stand being dirty. He took two or three showers every day depending on how he felt, and whenever Dale left a mess in their room you thought Roger would go off the deep end. 

The end-of-semester tensions only pushed you and Roger closer as the idea of him going home to Cornwall and you to Surrey frightened you both. You wanted to get away from the university environment but you couldn’t imagine being away from him for a whole month. Neither of you were prepared, and you were cherishing the three weeks you had left until then.

You were out of the shower, clad in a camisole and pajama pants as you brushed through your wet hair. The familiar, rhythmic knocking pattern sounded on the door and you quickly let him in. You didn’t know what the plan was for this fine, lazy Sunday afternoon but you really didn’t care as long as it was spent with your best friend.

“Hello, love. Long time no see.” He sighed in his light, airy voice, leaning over to kiss your cheek before plopping down on your messy bed. You never made it and you knew it drove him nuts. He was in pajamas as well and burrowed under your light pink duvet making you giggle at the way he looked peeking out of it, his hair in his face and his big blue eyes peering up at you in innocence. 

“Tired already? We just got up!” You set your hairbrush down on the dresser and climbed on top of him, purposefully covering as much of him as you could and putting all your weight on him.

“Get off!” He laugh-wined, shoving at you halfheartedly. “I can’t breath!”

“Maybe it’s all those cigarettes, Rog.” You laughed, starting to tickle him.

“No fair! Quit it!” He shoved you a little harder and you rolled to the side, allowing for him to take charge, and he returned fire two-fold. You doubled over from laughter and he fell back onto the bed beside you, the two of you out of breath.

“You’ll be the death of me, Taylor.” You panted.

“Not if you get me first,” he scoffed. 

“What do you want to do anyway?”

“I dunno.” He said flippantly. “I’m comfy right here, to be honest.” He snuggled back into the duvet with a content sigh. 

“I have a question.” You stated out of the blue, propping yourself up on your elbows. This was a question you knew would catch him off guard and you were a little afraid to ask, but you needed to know. “We’ve been friends with benefits for a while…”

“Yeah? And?” His curious eyes met yours and you fell back, hiding your face behind your hands. 

“Ahh I can’t ask it.”

“Oh come off it we tell each other everything. What could possibly be so bad you can’t ask me?”

You sighed, collecting yourself. “Fine. I want to know, Rog… what’s your body count? I mean we probably should’ve talked about this before we started this arrangement…”

“Oh.” His face was confused and concerned, and you worried you’d overstepped. 

“You don’t have to answer—“

“No, love. I’ll answer. Including you? Two.”

“Two?” That was an unexpected answer. You hadn’t put your finger on just how many you expected because he acted like such a ladies man sometimes, but that answer did surprise you.

“What, do you think I’m some kind of man-whore?” He looked genuinely offended at your surprised reaction, and he went to get off the bed. 

“Wait, Rog, I don’t—“ you grabbed his arm, making him sit back down. “Its just, you’re so confident and act so comfortable with girls. I figured it would be higher, you know? That’s not really a bad thing.”

“Well if you must know, I was with my girlfriend for the past four years until we parted ways for university.” He spat, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest, clearly hurt.

“I’m sorry, Roger, I didn’t mean to react that way. Um, our agreement isn’t just rebound sex, is it?”

“What?” His eyes snapped back to yours, “No, of course not. I loved her but it was time. I’m not hung up on her. What I have with you is different.” 

“You loved her?”

“Yes. She was my first love. But we were growing apart. She had her plans and I had mine. That’s just how it went.” There was a sad shadow that clouded his eyes momentarily, but he quickly shook it off. “What about you? What’s your count?”

“Um.” You’d forgotten that asking him would also require you to give up the same information. “Including you, one.”

“One?” You could see the cogs turning in his head as he processed. “You were a virgin?” He asked, his voice hitching with a hint of panic. 

You nodded. 

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?!” He sat up on his knees and his hands came up to grip his hair. 

“What’s the big deal, Rog?”

“You were a virgin!” His hands dropped from his hair and one of them fell to his neck, slipping under the collar of his t-shirt to scratch nervously at his shoulder. “God, I’m so sorry, Y/N, had I known—“

“Hey, quit it. What would you have possibly done differently had you known?” You placed your hands on his tense shoulders and pulled him back down to sit beside you once more. 

“I— I don’t know, I would’ve gone slower, been more attentive, asked you how you felt.” His big blue eyes were glassy and filled with worry. It was sweet to see how concerned he was. 

“In that case I’m glad you didn’t know. You would’ve ruined it.” You chuckled, reaching up and smoothing his hair affectionately. “Really, it was fine how it was.”

“Fine? Did it hurt? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, Rog. It was more than fine, it was lovely. I told you that then, and I was being honest. It was really quite lovely and it has been every time since.” 

He visibly relaxed at your words but still eyed you with caution. “These kinds of things… we need to talk about them more. I feel blind sided.”

“I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t realize it was such a big deal to you.” 

“Well I just feel like I should’ve known. And you should’ve known my body count before, too. We need to communicate better if we’re going to keep doing this.” 

It shook you to see how hurt he seemed from this whole conversation. “You’re right. We’ll work on communicating better.” You studied his expression as he looked down at his lap, his hand still massaging his shoulder under his shirt. “Come on, Rog. Relax, darling. I have an idea.” You reached up and took his hand from his shirt and held both of his in yours. His eyes met yours once more with a spark of curiosity. “I want you to play your drums for me.”

His eyes lit up momentarily, but it quickly faded as he thought it through. “I would love that, but they’re too loud to play here.”

“Oh come on! I bet Dale isn’t even back yet!”

“No, not that. I mean they are loud, Y/N. Like the whole building would be able to hear them. Not a lot of people realize just how loud they are until they’ve heard them up close.”

“I want to hear them.”

“You might but the whole building won’t.” He scoffed and crossed his arms again. “Trust me I would love to have the opportunity to play. Pencils on a desk just aren’t the same.” 

During your study sessions he would often get distracted and drum on his desk and notebook with two pencils. It never bothered you because his rhythm was impeccable, but there was only so much pitch he could get from a battered notebook and an old table. You wanted so badly to hear the real thing, and began to mull over ideas in your head. Suddenly you remembered a key detail. 

“Oh! There’s a set in the art building! The music room is there, I pass it every day, Rog, you could use those!” 

“Is it open on Sundays?” He asked, doubt clouding his narrowed eyes as he studied you. 

You smirked, a feeling of mischief exciting you. “No, but I know of a certain ground floor window that’s aways open. The lock is broken.”

“You’re amazing.” He stated, jumping off the bed and bolting toward the door. “I’m going to change, meet me at my room.” And with that he was gone. 

You laughed to yourself as you got up to change. You slipped on a navy blue sweatshirt that happened to be Roger’s and replaced your pajama pants with light wash bell bottom jeans. At the door you paused to slip on your white converse, and then headed down to Roger’s room on the first floor. You let yourself into his unlocked room to find him pulling on his jeans. 

His smile of excitement made your heart swell. He was like a little boy getting ready to open presents on Christmas morning, and you watched him fondly as he pulled on his favorite Marlboro Red jacket and black converse. He once again bolted for the door, beckoning for you to follow. He held the door for you and you grabbed his monochrome polaroid camera off his dresser on your way out. 

“What’s that for?” He asked, following you out the door and locking it behind him. 

“I have a project I need to do and this might just be the perfect opportunity to start it.” You smiled to yourself as you slipped the camera strap over your neck, thinking of the prompt your professor had given you. 

“What’s the project on?” Roger asked, falling into step beside you as you exited the dorm building and started up the sidewalk. 

“Oh my professor just told us to use any one medium and create a collage— yes photographs are a medium.” You left out the fact that the collage was supposed to be on your favorite things, and you planned for him to be the sole subject. 

“I knew that.” He grumbled, looking away. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh it is. Creative things like this are my favorites.”

“I thought you were a painter?”

“Well I am but I’m going to be an art teacher, so I need to broaden my horizons. I have to know about different kinds of art to teach them.”

“That’s cool.” A smile came to play at his lips as he looked ahead, and you couldn’t help but smile as well. 

You continued on your way to the art building which loomed over you up ahead, and you chuckled to yourself when you reached the intersection where you and Roger would normally part ways when heading to class. You lead him up to the building and took his hand in yours as you walked around the back of it, searching for the window you knew would let you in. 

As you felt his hand in yours you noticed how soft they had become since he hadn’t been drumming, and it made you feel sad, knowing that he hadn’t had the opportunity to do what he loved in months. You’d never seen him really drum before and your heart beat quickened as you thought about the fact that you were about to hear him play for the first time. 

“Here it is!” You exclaimed, pointing up to a window that was ever so slightly cracked. It was just over your height and you frowned, realizing that this mission could be a challenge after all. 

“How the bloody hell are we going to get in?” Roger responded, gazing up at the window with despair dripping from his voice. 

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll figure it out.”

He didn’t look convinced but rather sat down on the ground with a huff as you paced trying to think.

“I know! You could lift me in—“

“But how does that help me get in?”

“Then I can find a step stool or something to stick out the window for you.” You crossed your arms over your chest and surveyed his expression. 

“Well, I guess it’ll have to do.” He admitted with a shrug, getting to his feet once more. “Alright, hop up.” He knelt on one knee and held his hands out for your foot, which you placed in them lightly. With a groan he hoisted you up and you grabbed onto the windowsill for dear life. You struggled momentarily as you tried to push the window open further, and you could feel Roger beginning to shake under your weight. Finally you had it open wide enough to fit and kicked off his hands to push yourself through. 

You landed on the art table below the window in the dark classroom and could hear Roger cursing outside. “A little warning would’ve been nice!” 

Getting to your feet, you brushed off the dust your sweatshirt had gathered from the windowsill and you returned to peer out at Roger. He was sprawled out on his back looking like something the cat dragged in and you realized you had kicked him over when you’d launched yourself through the window. A laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny!” He yelled from the ground, finally pushing himself to his feet. 

You rolled your eyes and disappeared from the window again in search of something he could use as a step. There was a closet full of random supplies in the back of the classroom, and you knew if there was anything in the room that wouldn’t be missed it would be in there. When you opened the closet you wanted to shout with relief, as right there in the middle of the clutter sat a wooden milk crate. You wasted no time grabbing it and bringing it back to the window. As the window was in the back of the building you figured you could easily leave it there for future use. It was perfect.

Roger smiled when he saw what you brought for him and reached up to take it from you. It was a little short but gave him the boost he needed to get in the window enough for you to grab onto him and pull. The both of you landed once more in a heap on the table you’d been standing on, laughing your asses off. 

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, sliding out from under Roger and gaining your footing on the floor, “lets go find those drums before we break something.”

He followed you quickly and you could see the excitement returning to his face. The childlike joy he felt at the idea of getting to do what he loved warmed your heart and you loved that you were the one to find a way to make him so happy. 

At last you reached the room and you opened the heavy wooden door to reveal the enormous, cavernous band room. It had soundproofing panels all around and lockers along one wall that held instruments for the music majors to borrow. There was a small conducting podium at the front of the room before several rows of chairs, set up for an orchestra. To the far end of the room sat a mini stage with a drum kit upstage, ready and waiting with Roger’s name all over it. 

The kit was the first thing Roger saw, and before you could say a word he was jogging over to it. You watched him plop down on the stool and give the bass drum a light tap with its pedal. He looked around for drum sticks and snatched them when he spotted them laying on one of the floor toms. Immediately he began some kind of ritual with the drums, focus taking over his face, turning it stony as he doubled over and listened to the sounds each drum made as he tapped them. You didn’t dare disturb him, as you’d never seen such concentration take him before, and you perched yourself on a nearby amplifier to observe. The polaroid camera bumped your chest as you adjusted yourself and you immediately picked it up, a smile growing on your face as you brought it up to your eye. You watched him through the viewfinder, waiting for the perfect moment, then, snap, you had him. The film slid from the front and you placed it beside you to develop. This was going to be fun.

“Whatcha doing, Roggie?” You asked as you watched him pause to readjust himself on the stool.

“Oh, I’m tuning them.” He stated, looking up. “Would you like a play-by-play?” A smirk played at his lips as he raised an eyebrow. 

You brought the camera back up to your eye and wasted no time. Snap. “Yes please.”

“Well they’re ready. What would you like to hear? I might be a bit rusty.” He twirled one of the drumsticks in his fingers, already humming and bobbing his head to whatever song was playing in his mind.

“Whatever you’re thinking of.”

“Right on.” 

You were caught off guard by the loud “Wow!” he shouted to start off the song but as he continued and you recognized what he was playing you felt like melting. It was ‘I Got You’ by James Brown and he sounded absolutely amazing. Though the recording of the song had other instruments, they weren’t missed one bit with the fulfilling combination of Roger’s talents. But Roger was right, the drums were loud and the sound of them consumed all the space in the room and covered you like a heavy blanket. You were mesmerized by the way he moved as he hit each drum with perfect timing and sung along with a voice that was worthy of fame. You’d never noticed or appreciated just how physical the art of drumming was, but watching his movements you had no idea how he did it, not to mention how his voice was perfect, completely unaffected by the activity.

“I feel good, so good

I got-a you!”

He pointed a drumstick at you on that line and you just wanted to soak up the moment as his eyes bore into yours. Sitting there, dazed on the amp, you took him in, feeling the bass drum and basking in the feelings his voice and the song stirred inside you. It was perfect, and you nearly forgot to capture the moment on camera. You hurriedly put your eye back to the viewfinder and snapped the stutter button again before placing the little square soon-to-be photo face down beside you. As you listened, you prepared for the chorus this time and snapped a picture on the word “you” as he pointed to you once more, this time with a wink. You knew you’d got it and hurried to put the picture down to develop, praying it would come out right.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he drew the song to a close, as you didn’t want it to end, it was just such a wonderful experience. 

He was breathing heavy as he hit the final note and set his drumsticks down to catch his breath. “Wow I really am out of shape.” He panted, his eyes meeting yours with a playful raise of his eyebrows. 

“Roger, that was beautiful.” You stated. It wasn’t the right word for such an up-tempo song but you were at a loss for words, completely dumbfounded to discover just how talented your best friend was. 

“Well, thanks.” He said hesitantly. “Would you like to hear something else?”

You nodded fervently, wracking your brain for any one request, but you didn’t care what he played, you just wanted to hear him. He sat still for a moment, letting you think and still trying to catch his breath. His eyes were downcast as he studied the skin of the snare drum, and you admired him from your perch on the amp. You couldn’t help but slowly slide off of it onto your feet and slowly approach him. He didn’t hear you and he jumped slightly when your hand landed on his shoulder. His deep blue eyes met yours once more and his lips parted slightly in curiosity, waiting for you to say something, but instead you just lowered yourself to straddle his lap, and wrapped you arms over his shoulders, your hands connecting at the back of his neck. Gazing into his eyes you reflected on how amazing he was to you, and how seeing him put his heart and soul into drumming had been such a turn on. His hands moved up to the small of your back to steady you on his lap and a small smile touched his lips as he studied your expression.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. 

His smile turned into a smirk as he took in your praise, and his hands moved to grip your hips. “I’m pretty great with my hands if I do say so myself,” he joked as he trailed his fingers down your thigh, reaching the bend of your knee and hitching your leg up, causing you to move further up on his lap. 

“Show me,” you breathed, pulling off the obnoxious sweatshirt that was keeping you from him and tossing it aside and feeling his stare burning through your camisole with no bra beneath it. 

He rans his hands up and down your thighs teasingly before moving one hand behind your neck to support it as he pressed his mouth to it. His other hand worked on the button of your tight, low rise jeans, fumbling momentarily but successfully undoing it. He slipped his fingers under the thin elastic waistband of your panties and he very lightly traced your slit as his mouth sucked gently on the soft, sensitive skin of your collarbone, evoking a soft moan from your lips, and sure to leave a mark. You could tell he was going to make you beg for it. Well, two could play at that game. 

You ground your hips lightly against his hand, causing friction on his lap as you inched even further up on him, your bellies touching from your closeness. You could feel your work paying off as his jeans began to strain, and you made quick work of undoing the button and plunging your hand into his boxers. Gently, you brushed the tips of your fingers ever so lightly along his member, and he groaned under your touch. 

At your advances he allowed his fingers to explore your warm folds, and he traced you with painful slowness. You ground into his fingers, but he pulled them away as you tried to get more friction. 

“Ah ah ah,” he scolded as he brought his fingers up to your lips. “You’re going to be patient,” he teased, licking you off his fingers before returning them to their previous position on either side of your clit, now slick and warm with his saliva. 

You groaned at your limitation and tried your hardest to stay still as he began to move his fingers once more, and as you began to stroke him with your hand. “No, sir,” you scolded when you felt his hips buck beneath you. “If I have to be patient then so do you.” You trailed kisses up his neck and nibbled on his ear playfully, and he gave in, moving his fingers to exactly where you wanted them. “Atta boy,” you breathed in his ear.

“Lets make this quick,” he grunted, and you nodded in agreement, quickening your pace with him as he did the same to you. He allowed you to move against him again and you took full advantage, taking special care to reward him as well. You quickly came undone on his fingers and he followed suit seconds later, his head falling onto your shoulder as you rode out the wave of ecstasy together. 

Both of you took slow, deep breaths together calm yourselves as you gently removed your hand from his boxers and wiped it messily on your camisole. He gently removed his fingers from your panties as he fought back a giddy smile. You scooted back on his lap a few inches to give him some space and something on his jeans caught your eye. 

“Oh my God,” you gasped, covering your uncontrollable smile with both hands. “We did not think this through.” He had a very obvious, dark wet spot on the front of his light wash jeans caused from your activities. 

He swore loudly as his eyes caught the offending sight. “Shit! How am I going to get out of here? I can’t go out like this.”

“Hey hey hey, its okay love. Everyone cums in their pants every now and then,” you couldn’t help but snicker as you looked up at him, mischief in your eyes at your sarcastic comment. “Haha, you came in your pants!”

“That’s not how it went and you know it!” He shouted as his cheeks reddened, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. 

“Roger came in his pants, Roger came in his pants!” You chanted in a sing-song voice as you slid off his lap and twirled around.

“Come off it.”

“Oh come on, Rog, just admit I was too much for you,” you let your jeans slip lower on your hips for him as you danced over to pick up your sweatshirt, bending over to tease him. 

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, his expression calming. “I seem to recall you quite literally melting in my hands.”

“Well, my proof ain’t all over the front of my pants now is it?!” You laughed, spinning around to pick the camera up off where you’d left it on the amp and turned it on him before he could react. The resulting photo you knew would develop with his eyes wide and his mouth open in protest— a beautiful sight. “Don’t worry, Love, that one’s just for me.”

“Seriously though. My jacket won’t cover it, I don’t know what to do. I’m not leaving like this.” Roger stood up and played with the hem of his t-shirt as if he could stretch it far enough to stay covered. 

“Well, how about you play me another song and I’ll think about it. Okay, drummer boy?” 

He shot you a glare and sat back on the drum stool, grabbing and twirling a drumstick between his fingers. The rhythm he began to bang out of the drums captivated you immediately, and this time you walked around him to get pictures, snapping a painfully attractive one from the back that displayed his messy hair splayed around his head perfectly. Whatever song he was playing either didn’t have words or he wasn’t in the mood to sing. He ignored you as you paced around the drum kit, taking pictures, and he continued to play song after song, sometimes singing along, sometimes just moving his mouth to the count of the beat. You quickly realized that he had retreated into his own little world and seemingly had forgotten about you. He didn’t notice when you stooped back down to pick up the abandoned sweatshirt off the floor and held it up to you to see if it might be long enough to solve Roger’s problem. It would be, so you folded it and set in on the amp, glad to have found a solution to his way too obvious predicament. You sat down on the floor and began sorting through your polaroids, admiring Roger in his natural habitat. These were gold and you were hesitant to ruin them by putting them in a collage, but you knew you had to or you’d fail the assignment, having no other ideas. 

Your only solution was to take more but you only had three photos left in the camera and had to photograph wisely. Observing him was an experience like no other. He was putting all his heart and soul into the rhythms he beat out, and your heart would leap every time he would throw his head back in passion. He was beautiful, you’d never seen such a perfect human before and it was all enhanced by the ray of setting sunlight that filtered through the high windows, framing his hair like a halo. You waited, watching him through the viewfinder and found the perfect angle sitting on the floor beside him, though being so close made the sounds reverberate through your head and started to make it hurt you didn’t care: you had the best seat in the house.

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Chapter 16)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: So we're closer to the end! I can't believe there's only five more chapters to go. But yeah, this chapter was nice - I'm not gonna say it's a happy chapter, but it's happier than the last few ones lol. It's a chapter that has a bit more of me in it - but it's still a Reader fic, so don't worry lol. Please tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages!

Words: 2800ish

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 16

1977, New York

The bench under your bum made you uncomfortable, but you were still too lazy to care - you always left the beach like this.

You were on the long, one hour way back to your loft in Greene Street, SoHo, through the good old F train, every inch of the train filled with graffiti. But you could still smell the salt in the air coming from the New York Aquarium Station - the best station to access the Coney Island sidewalk and beach.

There was better, cleaner beaches in the Hamptons, but they were full of annoyingly rich people that think they're better than the rest. Also, Coney Island held a special place in your heart - when you were a kid, your grandma would take you there, so you could enjoy the sun and the not-so-safe attractions, and your parents would always freak out when they found out that you took the unsafe subway through the unsafe neighbourhood of Brooklyn to get to a dirty beach.

But it was always fun. The sun would almost certainly burn your shoulders, and you could never wear any jewelry, but the feeling of being involved by the sea, floating in the water, holding your breath, after spending a couple hours on carousels and wooden roller coasters, would always make it worth it - your grandma always taught you to be brave, that things could be scary at first, but usually worked out. "If it doesn't make you happier, it makes you wiser", she'd tell you, and you'd nod, the taste of cheap ice cream on your mouth, the sun warming up your skin.

It was your grandma who figured out that something was wrong with you and made you seek help.

She came by to visit as soon as you called her, right after getting home from Cleopatra's Needle and breaking up with Roger. She came to your parent's apartment, complaining about the traffic - she lived in Paramus, New Jersey, now. She moved there in 1973, saying that it was ludicrous she couldn't grow old with a nice garden on the back of her house, just because Manhattan didn't have houses with gardens anymore.

Now, once you came back from London, in 1975, she looked at you and immediately knew something was wrong. "Sweetpea, what's wrong?" she asked, a frown on her face as she got closer to you.

You were lying on the couch in your pajamas, trying to see if you could find a Doctor Who re-run - probably not a good idea, all things considered, but you didn't just miss Roger, now that he's away. You missed England, you missed their accents, you missed the way you felt when you first got there. "What, grandma?", you asked, and she got you to get up, putting her hand against your forehead.

"You're different", she said, and you shrugged, "Yeah, I'm older", and she laughed. "So am I, Sweetpea. And it hasn't been so long since I last saw you - last year, right? You came here with your hairy boyfriend", she said, and you tensed up, which didn't go unnoticed. "Oh. I see. Something happened between the two of you, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"That's it. You look sadder. You didn't look like that before. But… Maybe that's not it. No, I don't think that's it at all", she said, and you looked at her, confused. "No, Grandma. That's what happened. I'm sad - I had to breakup with Roger, my boyf - ex-boyfriend", you interrupted yourself, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Roger, my ex-boyfriend, so I could get back here", you said, a cold pain spreading through your chest as the impact of these words hit you.

"But that's just a symptom. There's something else wrong there, Sweetpea. Something deeper within", she said, pointing to your heart. "And that's what made you sad, what made you break up with that boy. I liked him, you know. He made you happy - I could see it. You were always brave, and that always made me proud. But with him, you were happy - when you came into the room with him by your side, everything got brighter. Your love was like the sun", she said, fixing a painting on the wall, not noticing how your eyes were tearing up.

"That's how I last saw you. Brave and happy", she looked at the painting, satisfied with it now that it was not crooked anymore, and turned to you. "Now you're neither. What happened, Sweetpea?", and you choked up. "I don't know", you whispered, and she hugged you as you started to cry - she smelled like plums and apples, the things she grew on her garden in Paramus.

You couldn't stop thinking about the last time she saw you - it was in 1974, and the boys came to America, specifically to New York for a few dates, and you had to come with them - they wanted you to do so. Also, you were dating Roger for two years, and it was time for him to meet your parents.

You came from a small gig in Boston, Roger holding your hand the entire plane ride to New York - he was nervous. You were travelling right after their show, an extra night before the rest of the boys, so you could take Roger to have dinner with your parents.

None of you knew your parents actually organized a dinner party, and invited part of your family - your uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. Your uncle opened the door to your apartments, surprising both you and Roger. "Hm, hey, uncle Marcus. Where are my parents?", you asked, and you felt Roger's grip on your hand tighten as he noticed there would be many more family members for him to meet.

As you walked inside, you whispered to Roger "Relax, Rog", and he started looking more confident - but you could still feel his tight grip on your hand. He was still nervous.

But everything worked out just fine, actually. Your parents didn't really approve his looks - Roger was wearing a suit that he bought in Japan, with colorful birds and trees in silk shining against the dining room lights - but your cousins loved it. They loved him, actually, since they knew exactly who he was.

He got more comfortable as dinner went by, joking with your family, and you carefully changed topics once you realized one of your parents was about to ask a question about delicate stuff - money, marriage, kids.

You two always thought about marriage and kids as something distant - you felt too young, too irresponsible to take care of a child. So you took your birth control pills religiously, and everything worked out fine - the promise of children and marriage always there, in the distant future.

After the dinner party, Roger followed you to your room - you'd be spending the night there, since the band's hotel was booked for the next day.

"Well, this is an interesting look into a younger Y/N", Roger said, going through your bookshelf. "Frankenstein, Romeo and Juliet, Don Quixote, that's all pretty smart… 1984, I remember you talked about this book before our first kiss...", he said, and kneeled down, where your bookshelf was messier. "What's this? Flash Gordon?" he asks, picking up one of the comic books and going through it, and you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?", you said, getting the comics out of his hands. "I used to think Flash was hot. And Dale was pretty cool, too", you said, and he laughed, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"It's fine by me", he said, and looked out of your window. "It's just funny for me to imagine you, a teenager, sitting by your window in this preppy, quite soulless neighbourhood, reading Flash Gordon and thinking of a way out", he said, and you laughed.

"Hey, I didn't only do that. I also had sleepovers with girls I never spoke to since we graduated from high school, and went on a bunch of dates with guys I didn't really like", you answered, and it was his turn to laugh.

"Hm, doesn't seem like a very satisfying life to me", he whispered, moving his lips to your neck, and you nodded lightly. "Did you ever bring them here? To your room?", he asked, and you laughed. "No, my parents would die. They were quite liberal, but not like that. When I went on a date as a teenager, I had to go to their place later if I wanted some action, you know", you answered, and he started to move his kisses to your jaw. You knew what he was about to suggest.

"I know, Y/N... So, I'm just wondering, am I the first guy your parents are allowing inside your room?", he said, his breath on your jaw giving you goosebumps. "Yeah", you answered, and he kissed under your earlobe. "The first guy to sleep on your bed?", he asked, and you said "Yes".

"How are your parents allowing this, miss Y/L/N? Such a nice girl from such a nice family, locked inside her room with a british drummer", he said, his voice low and husky, moving you closer to your bed. But you wanted to take it slow - it was a special event, indeed.

"Not that I'm trying to break your roleplay, Roger, but we literally share a flat. It would be silly for them to get the guest bedroom ready for you", you said, and he scoffed, breaking away from your neck and looking at you.

"Yeah, but it would be hotter", he said, going back to kissing your jaw. "Imagine how hot it would be if I had to wait until your parents slept so I could leave the guest bedroom", he said, getting you to sit on the bed, "And then I would've to walk, very carefully, through the hallway, trying not to wake them up", he continued, laying you down on your back and moving on top of you, then going back to kissing your neck and cleavage as he completed, "Just to open your bedroom door and find you touching yourself, moaning my name".

"That would be pretty hot", you agreed. "Maybe I should get them to move you to the guest room", you shrugged, teasing him, and he stopped kissing your cleavage just to look at you and say "Don't you dare", before kissing your lips.

That night was a bad memory to have running over your head again and again as you laid on your bed every night to go to sleep, alone, a year later, after breaking up with Roger, in 1975.

Your grandma convinced you to seek help, and you tried everything: therapy - your parents looking at you weirdly because getting a therapist was still associated with severe mental illness, meditation, mediums, aromatherapy.

You didn't knew exactly what worked, but a year after you arrived, now in 1976, you were already in your new SoHo flat, having moved out of the Upper East Side, the neighbourhood you - and Roger - knew that didn't really have much to do with you, even though it was closer to the Met, where the work was interesting - and where you barely ever saw Will, uncomfortable looks exchanged between the two of you every time you had to see each other.

It was a cold winter day in December 1976 when you got up, your loft nicely illuminated, spacious, the soft light from the snowy day making everything seem more magical. The building was quiet, your artistic neighbours still asleep this early in the morning, and you made yourself some tea - with milk - and opened the window so you could sit on the emergency exit.

The street was also quiet, the only sound being a muffled free jazz, that was probably being played live in a grand piano inside one of the many lofts on Greene Street. It was then, the cold wind making your skin burn under the layers of sweaters, the tea getting rapidly cold, the jazz caressing your ears, when you realized you were not sad anymore.

You didn't feel that weight on your chest now, when you breathed in, filling your lungs with fresh, cold air, and you didn't feel like you had no control over your life. You were present, in the moment, and you felt happy. Happy with your life. Happy with yourself.

And you enjoyed this feeling, without thinking much, for as long as you stayed outside on the emergency exit; until you finished the tea, until the jazz player stopped, wherever he or she was.

Once you got inside, thinking about preparing a nice, warm bath, you walked by the phone, and you wanted to call Roger.

You wanted to call him many times before, but you were always desperate, regretting breaking up with him, or sad, just trying to know how he's doing, how the boys are doing.

But now, you didn't feel anything negative make you want to call him - you just wanted to let him know that you're happy again.

But that doesn't seem like a good enough reason to call him in the middle of the day for him - he probably wasn't even up yet.

So you went inside the bathtub and just felt grateful for meeting him, for having the opportunity to have him in your life. Now, it was peaceful.

Now, back at the F train to your house from Coney Island in 1977, you're taken out of your thoughts when you see a blonde head pass in front of you, but you don't feel nervous anymore - you knew it wasn't Roger.

You always thought you saw him, especially in 1975, your first year back in New York - always nervous, always imagining that he was just trying to see you, to talk to you, maybe to try to take you back to England with him.

You saw him everywhere, in those first weeks, still in your parents apartment, thinking he might be on you M86 bus to work, or maybe in this fancy cocktail party you attended.

But one time, in 1976, you could swear you saw him on the stairs at the Met as you bought a hot dog from the stands in front of the museum - the guy's hair was shorter and bleached, just like you saw in the pictures of Roger that appeared on magazines, and he looked confused. But you didn't really investigate it, though - it was probably just another guy, maybe even inspiring his own look in Roger's.

Your train reached your station and you finally got back to Greene Street, walking slowly to your building, taking in the view of your street. Now that you're far from Queen, you can see their importance, their impact on the world.

You watched as songs you saw get written and sung and produced right in front of you became huge hits - Deacy's song to Veronica reached #1 on the american charts. A song you saw get recorded in a weekend visiting your boyfriend as he worked - that's how you saw it.

You bought their new album in the end of last year, 1976, A Day at the Races. You loved it - it was probably your favourite, and you didn't knew if it was because their music was getting better or if it was because this was their first album you could enjoy as a fan, not being involved in how it was made. You liked to watch their TV specials and interviews, feeling grateful that you ever got to be around them, even though life - and your own, unconscious choices, you now realized - took you away from them. From Roger.

You loved You Take My Breath Away and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, but Drowse truly held a special spot in your heart - maybe you only loved it so much because it was Roger's, and it sounded like talking to him about his childhood, something you've done many times before, but maybe you didn't love it just because you were biased by your story with Roger. The song sounded more american, and it even made you feel like you felt when you listened to Fleetwood Mac. You smiled at that thought.

Once you got home, you picked your mail and started going through it.

You weren't really paying attention to it - you were thinking about the Fleetwood Mac show you would attend next week for the Rumours tour, in the Madison Square Garden, when a heavier letter caught your eye.

The paper was soft, creamy beige, and sealed with wax. And then you read what was written over the envelope.

It was a letter sent by the Curator of Palaeolithic and Mesolithic collections from The British Museum.

---

Chapter 17

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos

[keybladehearts-remade]

Riku’s Dark Days

A/N: Thank you Xion, yet again, for being an inspiration ily💛I hope whoever reads this has a range of emotions from me to you, you beautiful creatures, do enjoy💛💛

Disclaimer: kh3 spoilers, read at your own risk but don’t blame me if some things get spoiled cuz you read it even after seeing the warning

Word Count: 1,834

Genre: A Bit Angsty

“Hey, Riku!” Roxas tapped on the bedroom door. “We’re hosting another struggle, you gonna enter?”

"Roxas thinks he can finally beat you, but I bet big money you’ll wipe the floor with him." Hayner teasingly hit Roxas on the shoulder who narrowed his eyes in response.

“Oh thanks for the support.” The two shared a laugh.

When there was no response, Roxas tried tapping on the door again, “Riku?”

“Hey guys, you haven’t heard?” Olette trotted down the hall towards them.

“Heard what?”

“Riku hasn’t come out for days, not since Sora went missing.”

Worried looks traveled through the three of them until Roxas finally asked, “Shouldn’t we try to do something?”

“Pence and Ienzo have been hunched over the computers with Chip and Dale. We’ve been trying to track Sora down using his gummi phone but the coordination dropped somewhere in the middle of the outer world... Terra and Aqua found no traces of him out there.”

There was another pause, a moment of thought, but this time it was Hayner who spoke, “Is there anything we can do for Riku? Whatever he’s feeling can’t be good.”

“The king said it was best to just leave him be for now...”

“What does the king know?” He rolled his eyes, waving his arms in the air. “Riku, hang in there, we’ll find Sora!”


Their voices trailed down the hall until Riku couldn’t hear them anymore. Good, he thought, I don’t need their pity anyway. He rolled onto his other side, opening his eyes to a dark room; the only light was a sliver underneath the doorway. But even that felt like too much to Riku.

He couldn’t remember the last time he selpt...

Or ate...

What day it was...

What hour...

All he knew was the weight in his chest. A weight that felt so empty and so full at the same time. A weight that felt like it was eating his heart away.

He rolled onto his back and let out a soft breath, closing his eyes. First Kairi, and now Sora too. He reached his hand up towards the ceiling, picturing their faces, their hands reaching towards his. He closed his fist, wishing with every bone in his body that when he opened his eyes they would be there, standing right in front of him, flashing their stupid grins at him.

“Did you miss me?” He could hear Kairi’s voice echoing in his mind, hear her cheeky little laugh.

“I told you I could do it,” Sora’s teasing smile, his arms folding up behind his head, his body rocking on his back heels.

But their grins hardened and their eyes narrowed, and Riku’s head swam... or maybe it was trying to drown him.

“You let them take me again.” Kairi shouted and Sora snapped, “You let me go alone.”

“I thought you wanted to protect him!”

“I thought you got over your jealousy!”

Their voices seemed to get louder and louder until they were both screaming in unison, “I thought you loved me!”

Riku sat up, burying his head into his hands, running them through his hair... Pushing his palms into his forehead.

He tried everything to get their voices out of his head, but maybe he deserved it, maybe they were right. He opened his eyes and threw a pillow across the room, yelling out in frustration. He rocked back and forth, crying a mantra of I’m Sorry’s until-

“Riku?” Namine’s voice sounded softly through the door, causing his trance to break. “Riku... I know you don’t want to talk, but is it okay if I sit out here for a while? I thought you could use the company...”

He stared at the door, unsure of if he wanted to respond or not, or if he could even get the words out to respond. She waited patiently, the shadow of her feet visible under the doorway. Riku let out a hoarse and unsure okay and she smiled softly before taking a seat against the door.

He listened to the wood creaking under her, her breathing as she settled in. He found it sobering to have her there, to know someone was near. He wondered how long it had been since Roxas, Hayner and Olette had stood where she sat. He lied back down again, staring at his ceiling once more. His eyes traced the glowing stars for the thousandth time and he thought back to when Sora and Kairi had put them up there.

“It’s for whenever you feel lost,” They had said. “These stars will guide you home.”

But home wasn’t the same without them and he started to think that home wasn’t a world or an island, it was the hearts of those he loved the most and right now, he felt awfully homesick.

He turned his head towards the doorway again, seeing Namine’s shadow still there. He wondered if she was drawing and what it would be a drawing of. His mind formed a thousand different sentences, trying to strike up a conversation, but he couldn’t make his mouth speak any of them. He sighed and forced a word out, just one word. “Namine?”

“I’m still here.” Her voice was soft, assuring. Grounding. He found himself wanting to hear more and wondered if it was because of her connection to Kairi and Sora or if it was just because there was something comforting in hearing her speak.

“What was it like in Castle Oblivion?” When she didn’t respond, he continued softer and more uncertain. Did he imagine her too? His brows furrowed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just thought...” He trailed off, he didn’t know what he thought or what prompted him to want to know more about her history, at a time like this nonetheless.

“No, it’s okay.” She said matter of factly, but still hesitated and he felt worse for asking. “I don’t mind, really. I just don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is always good.”

He could hear her smile in her voice when she started in. He wondered if anyone had ever asked her for her story before or if this was the first time. Or if his replica had been the first to ask and she was smiling in memory of him. None of these things he asked, none of these things he really wanted an answer to.

He knew it was selfish but more than anything he just wanted to hear her talk and not have to worry about saying anything back. What he didn’t know was how much she understood that all he needed was someone to be there for him and how many people were willing to do so but none of them knew how.

And so she talked, sharing her life with him. She told him how the organization found her, how they came to know of her power over Sora’s memories. Riku’s chest ached at the mention of Sora’s name, but he kept quiet, listening to her but not quite listening.

Some time in the middle of her monologue, Riku made his way to the floor next to the doorway, curling up into a cocoon of blankets and pillows and falling into a deep, soundless sleep.

He dreamt that he was in the outer world, staring down at Twilight Town then falling into Namine’s room in the haunted mansion. He dusted his clothes off and exited through the only doorway, finding himself in Castle Oblivion in a room with a curtain. He watched as Namine opened a window, putting an arm up to block the sun, shutting his eyes at the blinding light and then opening them to Kairi, bickering with another silhouette.

“Leave them closed,” That was Sora’s voice, there was no mistake. “He likes sleeping in the dark.”

“But it needs to be aired out, it smells like something died in here.” Kairi’s voice retorted.

“Keep your voices down or you’re going to wake him.” Aqua’s voice came from behind Riku. “Oh! Looks like he’s already awake. I’ll leave you guys alone.”

Riku blinked hazily until his eyes adjusted to the light. He was no longer in Castle Oblivion, or Namine’s room in the haunted mansion. But he wasn’t on the floor next to the doorway either. His voice was still hoarse as he tried to get his words out, “How....?”

“How’d you get to your bed?” Sora asked, grinning. “Terra carried you.”

“I think he meant more of how we’re here.”

“Oh...” Sora blushed and Kairi chuckled, putting a hand to her mouth to stifle it as much as she could.

Riku pinched Sora’s cheek with one hand and Kairi’s with another, unsure of what to believe. “You’re really here... aren’t you?”

Sora and Kairi shared a playful look before attacking Riku with suffocating hugs and falling into the bed with him. They nuzzled into him, both curling into each side and wrapping an arm over his stomach. He let out a relieved laugh, startling the two of them.

“Riku?” They looked up at him. 

His arms tightened around the two. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake from it. “I’m just glad to be home.”

Sora and Kairi shared one last look of puzzlement but when they turned back to Riku, he was fast asleep again, this time with a smile camped on his face.

“He must be really tired.” Sora noted.

“I don’t think he slept much while you guys were gone.” Namine’s spoke from the doorway. “It’s good to see him smile again, he was really worried about the two of you,” She paused before continuing. “I brought extra blankets in case you needed them.”

She set them at the foot of the bed before making her exit. Kairi called out a thank you after her, then turned back towards Riku and Sora. She kissed Riku’s cheek before laying her head on his shoulder and yawning, “Sleep sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it does.” Sora yawned after her, and mimicked her kiss before nuzzling his head back into the crook of Riku’s neck.

Namine passed back by, peeking her head in one last time and smiling softly at the sight of them. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Aqua smiling at her. “You should get some sleep too, Namine. You stayed up with him for a long time.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I think I will.”

Aqua continued down the hall and Namine went to close the door, but paused when she heard Riku’s voice. “Namine, thank you.”

She met his gaze, startled. “You’re welcome.” 

“You’re one of the stars in the ceiling.” He smiled at her, slowly drifting back to sleep.

She closed the door, unsure what he meant and dwelling on it as she continued after Aqua. Whatever the words meant, she wasn’t sure she’d ever know, but they left her with a warm feeling in her chest and a small smile on her face.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [512]

A hand pulls him out of his thoughts, and after a moment he permits it to pull him out of his chair. Or at the very least, closer to the edge of his seat.

“You will come to bed with me,” Ellana says, holding a shawl around her shoulders, yawning as she tugs at his wrist.

Bull takes a second to just look at her and marvel at how strange his life has become.

“Normally,” Bull says, holding in a laugh as Ellana attempts to blink herself awake, “When a beautiful woman commands me to her bed it is for something a little more vigorous and with little intent towards sleep. And normally they don’t sound as cross as you do while they’re doing it.”

“Oh, you’ve had many beautiful women commanding you to bed then, have you?” Ellana retorts, lazy smirk on the edge of her mouth before it levels out as she muffles a yawn, nose wrinkling. She’s in quite the fine form for someone who groggily came into the room, leaning against the wall and wobbling around for a good half minute before finally getting a hand on him. After knowing her for a couple of months, Bull is beginning to think there are very few times when Ellana is not in top form and likely to be caught as anything less than sharp of tongue and quick in wit. It’s incredibly impressive and it catches on his interest without fail.

But at this specific moment, Bull is finding himself deeply entertained by her drowsy swaying and is tempted to sit here and wait to see what her next move is, considering she’s half asleep on her feet.

He’s also considering if he’d hurt her by continuing this conversation. As close as they’ve become and as well as he’s come to know her, he’s not sure if discussing his past encounters with other women is a good idea. Let the other encounters that were not with women. It would be something of a list.

“Relax,” Ellana mumbles, eyes half closed and threatening to slide shut entirely as she pulls at him again. “Your reputation precedes you all the way to the Temples of the Dales. I walked into this knowing who I was marrying and I don’t care. I certainly don’t care when I’m half awake and cold. How do I know you’re over thinking this, you wonder? You’ve got a look on your face. You’re thinking much too much for someone who’s awake right before dawn and hasn’t closed an eye since before sunset previous.”

“It isn’t nearly dawn,” Bull protests. Ellana releases her shawl, letting half fall, barely catching on her bent elbows as she gestures towards a window. The sky is not nearly as dark as it should be, considering he didn’t actually intend to stay up all damn night. “Well, fuck.”

Bull leans over and blows out the candles on his desk, standing up and adjusting Ellana’s shawl back around her shoulders.

“Lead on to bed then,” Bull says, gently pushing her back out of the study. He shakes his head at himself. “You mean to tell me that I’ve been in this room an entire night while you’ve been in our bed? I’ve missed out on a beautiful woman in my bed for an entire night for work?”

“In my defense.” Ellana stops to let out a huge yawn. Bull barely bites back one of his own. Ellana scrubs her hand over her eyes as she continues. It is, frankly, adorable. “In my defense, I did come in twice prior and you brushed me off each time. Or do you not remember that in your haze of furious scribbling and mumbling to yourself?”

Bull can vaguely remember something possibly kicking his chair at some point, but it really was a haze of ink and paper and riffling through reference notes. He could be imagining it.

“It was an incredibly fascinating cipher,” Bull replies. It’s not much of defense, really. But it was a good cipher and he’s very close to cracking it. He just needs a little more time. And maybe a fresh set of eyes. “Have you any interest in those by chance? I could use someone to bounce ideas off of.”

Ellana lets out a light peal of laughter, “Are you asking me if I’m interested in code breaking? You’re going to make me laugh myself straight into a dizzy spell, I tell you.”

“Is it so ridiculous for a woman such as yourself to be interested in code breaking? Even priests have hobbies, no?” Bull challenges. The art of coded messages was practically invented by women. Or at least, some of the best codes and most enduring of them have been made, transformed, and passed on by women. One could say that the entire form of language and codes is a woman’s art.

Ellana gives him a heavy look over her shoulder, dragging a hand through her hair and pushing it out of her face. Bull isn’t sure of what that look means, aside that she is deeply amused and just a little sad. He has no idea why. He wouldn’t know how to ask, either.

“Where would I even begin to answer that question, I wonder. You wouldn’t know the half of it, lord husband,” Ellana replies teasingly, the traces of sadness whisked away as she shakes her head at him. “Yes. I do have an interest in code breaking. And you can tell me all about your interest in code breaking and why it’s taking you away from our bed for literal hours on end after we get some shared sleep. Perhaps over the morning meal.”

“You make yourself sound like a cipher, sometimes, lady wife. Do you know that?”

“Do you think yourself game to solve me, then?” Ellana asks, head cocked.

“After breakfast, I’ll consider another attempt,” Bull concedes. “But first, to bed with us both before I’m called out to do dumb shit with the hooligans we call soldiers.”