#it might well bring more annoyance to fans of hers than it could relief to me

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Stuck in a damn bed.

What -- Daryl's bedbound and stuck that way recovering for longer than he wants. He's not a fan.

When -- after supper following the chapter That's it. In the show, it is in season 2 following the events of Chupacabra. Note that the Slowpoke Series is canon-compliant, but you'll notice a more realistic recovery time has been portrayed than was able to be shown the TV series.

Relationships -- slow burning Reader x Daryl, but Carol's season 2 crush is coming out.

TWs -- some language and unexpected familial abuse

Pronouns -- she/her

How long is it? -- there hasn't been a new chapter in over a month, y'all...

Masterlist -- Official one here and Chronological one here

There's a part in the story with abuse by a family member (domestic violence). It's not reader being beaten in the way one might imagine abuse, but it's still abuse.

If you're being hurt by a loved one irl, they are doing something bad to you. Abuse is not earned or deserved. You are worthy of being safe and unhurt.

For help getting safe, you can call the Domestic Violence Hotline (USA) at 800-799-7233, chat online, or text START to 88788.

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Day 1 of being stuck in a damn bed

later

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Carol brought him supper. Eggs and field greens with crackers and beans. She’d brought breakfast and lunch to him, too. Stayed this time, though.

She ate mostly in silence with him but told him about the day. When she was done eating, she went back to mending a torn shirt she’d brought with.

Sophia wasn’t brought back today.

The whole truckload of these asshats that he’s been sticking with for way too long and for who-knows-why — couldn’t find that woman’s little girl after an entire day of searching the grid he slashed in half? Goddamned bullshit.

Yet, when two of those 'asshats,' Y/N and Patricia, came in to bring him a nighttime dose of painkillers and do another exam, he couldn’t find the words to ask Y/N anything about it. He didn’t feel all pissed and upset anymore, either.

Couldn’t make eye contact much with her just yet, granted. Still felt all stupid nervous.

Ain’t nothing he could do about it for now, his soul got stripped bare with Y/N’s yesterday. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t think of Y/N as stupid. Or Carol, that lady wasn’t stupid.

Hell, maybe no one in his group was, maybe it was just that he was heartbroke about that poor lost girl and in way too much pain.

Y/N was honest and spoke plainly about the situation, which was a welcome relief from how others were getting closed-lipped about it. “Today was so damned disappointing,” she muttered. “Twelve of us took turns goin’ out in teams, man, scoured the grid you narrowed down. Then we went beyond it when we still didn’t find…” After a few moments, she sat up straighter, adjusting the sling on her injured side. “Tomorrow’s the day, then.”

Well, since they’re changing up the search area tomorrow, maybe it’s true. And, maybe Daryl will stop complaining about others and will stop being a pussy and be able to actually get up and walk tomorrow, help out by his damned self and bring back their the girl.

Except that when he implied as much, Patricia shot it down. “We can’t force you, but—”

“Sure as shit can’t,” he yipped back.

At hearing Y/N’s huff, he turned just in time to catch her licking her teeth in annoyance. Her eyebrows were raised and her stare was enough to make his heart pound, loudly.

“You won’t make it far without needin’ to be helped back, if you can get up and walk around normally in the first place,” Patricia cautioned. “Give yourself a few days.”

Yeah, so, Sophia didn’t have a few days. “I’m fine.”

“We just want you to heal,” Carol quietly spoke.

Before he could finish yipping another comeback, Patricia sighed, then surprised him by saying, “Alright. We’ll leave the room so you can get dressed. Clothes are over there.”

Y/N frowned. “Ma’am?”

The lady gently held up a hand in response.

It was a test, plain as day. Which is why before them three had even left the room, Daryl had grit his teeth and held the bedsheets across his shoulder to keep himself covered as he pushed through the pain in order to sit upright all the way.

Courtesy of Y/N, his button-down shirt was tossed to him before she scooted out of the room, and Daryl was wincing and biting back groans as he worked it on for at least three minutes. He thanked his lucky stars it was a button-down and not a t-shirt, or he wouldn’t have been able to put it on.

He should’ve just thrown in the towel right then and accepted defeat, but he had too much to prove.

And when if he admitted it was too much for him…even if he didn't look like a Q-tip, wearing a damn pair of pants while it happened was the bare minimum that could make it bearable.

But he really should’ve thrown that towel in. It took accidentally hissing out a cuss when he tried to be tough as he swung his leg off the bed for him to start thinking he was being a jackass. It took him swallowing a whimper, chewing on his lip all the while, when he stood and had to untangle the bedsheets from his foot for him to doubt he could even get the pants on.

But being stubborn as a jackass had its perks: he gripped the bed frame to help him walk and got to his clothes without knocking anything over. He also worked out that sitting to put the pants on was better because he had to bend less if he was seated.

By the time he’d gotten them plus his socks and shoes on, he was sweaty and had the shakes, he’d also needed to sit awhile before he got the balls to stand up again and hobble his way to the door.

But he made it. Choking down his pride and his groans of discomfort, he made it to the door and pulled it open.

Patricia was waiting on the chair around the corner in the living room, quietly talking with Y/N while pointing at something in a giant, red book.

“Maybe I do need that few days,” he surrendered. Didn’t come out as tough as he’d intended.

Tell you what, though, that twangy blonde woman was one heck of a lady. “Let’s get you some fresh air while you’re up, does that sound good?” she offered. “The porch is only a few steps away.”

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

You

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“Oh, Glenn.” You flop against the RV’s table and end up staring at the ding in the cabinet opposite you. You just left the front porch after Patricia helped Daryl walk there to get a breather, only to find out not 30 seconds after entering the RV that Glenn spilled the news about Lori to Dale.

Instead of Glenn, Dale responds, “Kiddo, my lips are sealed,” but you’re busy trying to sort out how to keep Shane from finding out for a little while longer if already the news is getting out, and not from Lori or you.

You love Glenn to death, but oh my gosh, he is not good at secrets. You didn’t even know he’d known, you only just now drew the conclusion when you made the connection; that that was the thing on Lori’s drugstore list that Glenn was being all secretive about, the pregnancy test.

Right now, you need to stomp down the fears leaping around your dumb little brain because you cannot make this seem dramatic, or it will point to there being a problem with Lori being pregnant — which there isn’t, a new baby is such happy news you could scream, it’s just that there’s the possibility of — with your brother and — ugh, you need to go on a walk or kick something! And Dale and Glenn won’t/can’t know why you’re so upset or it will be even worse.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you knew, or I would’ve talked about it with you instead of Dale so I wouldn’t explode! Secrets aren’t cool, dude.”

“Seein' as you didn't mention the pregnancy tests, I'd say secrets have their place,” you test.

“Not really. They make things complicated and people get hurt.”

You sneer while letting out a huff, and Dale puts his two cents in.

“I’m inclined to agree with Glenn here.” He’s apologetic when he calmly next points out, “Secrets are an omission of the truth.”

Here you are, gleefully sitting on the secret that Maggie admitted to you that she really likes Glenn. Not-so-gleefully sitting on the secret that the baby may biologically be your brother's, too. Ain't like you're about to spill or you'll burst.

In your mind, you take the simmering tea kettle off the burner so it won’t start to sing. “There are good secrets and bad secrets. And most people wait a few to tell others about pregnancies, y’all,” you state, and then make an executive decision to share something truthful that’s maybe not your place to do so, but you need to save face for Lori’s sake, now. “Lori’s had a few losses, it’s not wrong to imagine the new one might won’t make it long.”

Dale and Glenn both react similarly: they open their mouth and raise their heads slightly, then bow them. Good.

Scratching his neck, Glenn apologizes again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“If she loses this one, too, those who know will grieve with her, then, simple as.” You’re satisfied and confident that you’ve saved face for Lori and your brother and Rick.

Except for how Dale peers at you. It reminds you of the gentle way one might look at a preschooler who is nervously trying to cover up the fact that they peed their pants.

One hand on your shoulder, he stops peering all knowingly and strokes his beard. “Irma miscarried, too. Our only one, none came after that,” he shares. Slowly, he sits at the spot by the RV’s right window. “We usually told people we stopped trying, which isn’t not the truth, I suppose. She and I simply stopped being, uh, ‘intentional’ about trying to conceive,” he explains.

“I’m sorry they died,” you tell Dale quietly. “Did you give ’em a name? My Ma lost one after Shane, she named them.”

“Believe it or not,” he says, hesitating before breaking into a smile and chuckling. “We were thinking about ‘Glenn’ for both a boy and girl name.”

Glenn’s cheeks turn purply-red like a beet. “Wait, seriously?”

Dale shrugs and nods.

“Y/N, no wonder I’m his favorite!”

After you play-pout, you notice, “Hold up: ‘Glenn’ and ‘Dale.’ Both are—”

“— Yes,” Dale finishes, turning pink while he laughs to himself and rubs his fingers over his wedding band. “The word ‘dale’ is from the Old English for ‘valley.’ And ‘glen’ is from the, ah, Scottish, the Scots Gaelic for ‘a valley formed by a river.’ My Irma liked the wordplay.”

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Day 2 of being stuck in a damn bed

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“You must be bored as hell in here, man. Concussion protocol stinks.”

T-Dog had just knocked and brought in the boombox that had been used a few times back at the quarry camp. He’d placed it next to Daryl on the bed, said he was here to help, then told him, “You saved my life with those meds, Daryl. And Carl’s.”

Daryl laid there like an awkward slug, he still felt off. Patricia was right, he really did get a good whack to the head. And...whole body.

He also didn’t expect a declaration like that. Not that it was a bad thing. He’d grown to have a lot of respect for T-Dog. Real decent guy. Maybe they were friends, too? He hoped so, he wanted that. And Daryl understood that him and his brother had been…he knew they was wrong, about how they’d been to T-Dog.

“No TV allowed.” T-Dog started to go on, narrating to himself, “Ain’t like that’s a problem right now. But also no reading, no busywork,” he said louder, “no getting up and moving much for the first couple days — I don’t envy you, brother. But listening to music, that they usually let you do so long as it’s quiet. You know what’s funny, though? There’s a separate, what do you call it, uh— ‘school of thought’ out there that says concussed people should be getting theyselves back to normal right from the get-go.”

The front door to the house opened again. Instead of footsteps going down the hall, there was another knock at Daryl’s door.

Before Y/N could finish her long-ass knocking pattern, Daryl called, “Just open it, s’fine.”

The knob turned and there she was, holding out a cassette tape with a plug hanging off it. “Found it. I’d forgot we’d moved it from Carol’s car. Jimmy borrowed it on the way to gun practice yesterday, left it in his dad’s truck.”

“You went without it all last night? I would’ve borrowed it, Y/N,” T-Dog razzed, “It’s been near a week since I listened to music, gonna turn into a Puritan at this rate.”

She giggled. “I fell asleep around 7:30 yesterday, man, I was out.”

“Yeah, Dale was worried that your brother pushed you too hard at that little fighting lesson y’all did.”

Making a little huh?, she pressed her lips together in what looked like a confused pout. “He was going easy. Oh — if he sounded like an asshole, that’s his way. Usually when you gotta defend yourself, there’s chaos and a lot of, um, of emotion. So, he riles you up, keeps pushin’ your buttons, so that you’ll learn to separate from the emotion and focus. Specifically, he’s tryin’ to help me not react,” she slumped as she said, “angrily. Anger makes you stupid.”

“Whatever you say, little sister. Just don’t go overdoin’ it, hear? You tend to overdo.”

With a teeny huff, she twisted her mouth and nodded.

“Speaking of, how long will you need to have your upper arm tied to your torso there?” he questioned.

She shrugged. “A few more days.”

“Alright, I’ll stop naggin’ you. How about: can I please get dibs on the mp3 the first night this guy can get out of bed? Pretty please?”

Mouth still twisted, it turned into a lopsided grin. “Deal.”

“Thank you much. Now,” he rubbed his hands together. “I do gotta ask, what music did the farm boy leave it on?”

“Hmm…” Y/N pressed the button on the side of the little music player to turn it on. Click, click, click. “Ah, Mumford & Sons. Do you know them? They’re that new band who makes bouncy banjo songs, got the raspy-voiced singer?”

“‘Bouncy banjo songs with a raspy-voiced singer,’” T-Dog chuckled. “I know them. Alright, man,” he said, turning to Daryl. “The batteries in the boombox should have plenty of juice left. You got the mp3 player to hook up to it, just use the tape deck converter. There’s a handful of CDs, too, and some cassettes.” He then made a little ha, and said, “Look like one of these is a book on tape that Dale got from the library. Shit, this was due like a month before the outbreaks, look at the date on here!”

“That’s a lotta late fees.”

“Let’s hope they waive ’em.”

This back and forth between the two of them was serving as Daryl’s minor entertainment for the afternoon. What serves as entertainment when you're stuck in a damn bed...

“D’you wonder if it’s as bad as The Case of the Missing Man?” Y/N droned.

“Oh, did you finish it, Y/N?”

“No. I tried two nights ago when I camped out in here. Couldn’t get passed chapter 4.”

“Surprised you ain’t reading it to this guy,” he told her. “Seein’ as you’re spending all that time in here, anyway.”

This was when Daryl got annoyed and uncomfortable again, there was something about the way T-Dog said it.

He didn’t think he felt (therefore looked) all nervous around Y/N anymore, that was all done, just a one-off. So why did it sound like T-Dog was teasing?

“Daryl’s suffered enough,” Y/N answered, and Daryl didn’t have time to catch her expression before she continued, “Miss Patricia’s certain he’s got a broken rib and maybe clavicle. So there’s the concussion, the ripped side by his rib, the collarbone, the stiff neck, then all the bruises, the abrasions, and that bullet graze — oh, sh — I just broke HIPAA!” she blurted out. “Ain’t never done that before, just blabbed about—that’s so—oh my g—th-that’s—Daryl, I’m so sorry!”

All Daryl could do was snort and ignore the sudden tug in the middle of his chest toward her direction. “Gonna sue your ass,” he deadpanned. Such a square.

“For real, though,” T-Dog spoke. “I still can’t believe you made your way back alive after all you went through, man. Yesterday, I joined Rick, we went to where you fell — Daryl, you should be dead. The way I see it, God’s got plans for you, brother. Just let Him do His thing.”

Awkward about what to say or how to react, Daryl responded with what was on his mind for most of the day. “Any signs out there today?”

Neither of them answered at first, meaning they didn’t find shit.

“I thought Rick talked to you already,” Y/N mumbled.

T-Dog answered better. “We’re searching a new area tomorrow, branching out.”

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later

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

Having music was saving him from going completely nuts. The little music player thing seemed to have something for just about everybody on it, and the CDs were fine, too. He even popped in the book on tape.

Sent him right to sleep.

Dale and Carol came visiting with supper. Carol had eaten every meal with him for the past two days. It made him a little nervous, to be plain. The way she paid attention seemed less like pity or friendship and more like something more, which he didn’t want and didn’t have to offer.

But he liked how Carol was quiet and gentle, thoughtful, and had a dry sense of humor every so often (when she let it out around him, that is).

The grub was eggs and field greens again, but this time there was also rice. Granted, no meat again, but someone must have found onion grass, because it smelled real tasty. If he cared, he would’ve considered to maybe not wolf it down as fast as he did, given that Carol and Dale were in there.

Then came his friend’s signature knocking again.

He was relieved to have felt nothing at Y/N's arrival; no nervousness, no warm cheeks. Everything was back to normal.

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Day 3 of being stuck in a damn bed

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“After Andy told her there was still a chance, she stopped her and said she didn’t really need to hear it anymore,” Y/N told him quietly. Arms crossed and hood up, she was resting back on the chair in the corner of the room, legs propped against the end of the bed. “I wanted you to hear it from me so if Carol said anything, it wouldn’t be knockin’ you out of left field.”

Y/N’d gone with her brother, Andrea, and Carol to check the spot on the highway where they’d set up a mini shelter for Sophia however many days ago all that shit went down. A few of the group had gone back every day, twice a day.

And now Carol was losing hope or just plain lost it.

For real, how was it that her kid was still goddamned missing?

He and Y/N found a sign at that house, then another at the other house, then he’d found her doll—how far would Sophia have fucking gone?

Her body ain’t been found yet, neither, which meant she had to be out there somewhere.

“Even Shane tried to be optimistic for her. After hearin’ her say to Andrea how she didn’t want to hear it no more, he tried to insist Sophia might could be fine, but she held out her hand so he’d stop.”

“Shane? Really?”

Shane wrote that little girl off as a goner, last Daryl knew. What changed?

Y/N gave a small, tired, very forced smile. “We had a good talk a few days ago. He knows he hasn’t been himself and he wants to do better.”

That’s good. The way her brother’s been acting has been driving screws through her, he knew that much.

“Still, your nine days to Sophia’s…” she trailed off, and when she did, he saw it in her face. Heard it in her voice when she finished her thought. “This is either her day 7 or 8 out there, I-I can’t think right now.”

Yup. She was also losing hope or plain lost it.

The feeling of helplessness jumpstarted and rammed him in the belly.

He swore. “C’mon, Y/N. You, too?”

“Dude,” she hesitated, “understanding the possibility she’s dead ain’t wrong.”

Shut up.

“It’s, it’s a high statistical likelihood,” was her next bullshit excuse. “From day one it’s been on the tabl—”

“—No wonder she ain’t been found yet,” he snarled, interrupting her. “None of y’all shitheads actually think that little girl’s out there!”

The pain from his broken rib seared like a hot poker when he raised his voice, but as he said it, he believed every word of it and liked how it struck home.

But only as he said it.

Because one look in his friend’s eyes afterward, wet and turning red, and he felt the invisible knee to the nards and stomach and knew he’d just been a massive asshole.

Y/N giving him the middle finger was what Patricia saw after she’d knocked on the door and come in.

“What’s goin’ on?” she asked the pair of them.

Y/N wiped an eye and told her honestly, “An argument about Sophia,” before laying this out to Daryl: “Not one of us doubts she’s out there.”

Regretful as he was for being an asshole, he still pushed back, “Yeah, all y’all just think she’s dead anyway, so why bother.”

“You mangy h—” she swallowed. Licked her teeth. “Stayin’ hopeful is one thing,” she started, pointing her finger at him while clear-as-day working to not raise her voice. “But can you honestly say to us that you wasn’t also prepared to find our girl dead every time you was out there?”

Patricia held up a hand and cleared her throat. “I’m here to check your bandages, Daryl. Y/N.”

Y/N apologized to Patricia and exited the room quietly.

Patricia did her thing.

And Daryl, stuck in a damn bed, same as he’d been for three days now, lay there feeling helpless, worthless, unwanted, and now like a massive asshole, and he was goddamned angry about it.

He really wanted to kick something, chug a beer, or cry. And have a smoke. Carol’d brought him his pack, he’d managed to get a good one in through the open window earlier.

“These should be able to come off in a few days,” Patricia murmured, re-wrapping his head. “And the graze is healing nicely. We still need to be cautious about your concussion and that side-wound of yours, hence you bein’ stuck in here for awhile yet.” The lady shifted her weight to her other leg and set her hand on her side. “How do the collarbone and ribs feel?”

“Fine.”

Arching one eyebrow at him, she took one arm and did some gentle movements, then the same with the other arm.

“Those areas are already better than they were the first day, so there’s something. And the rib fracture, unless it’s just a real nasty bruise, is likely hairline, which is light years better than the alternative. Remember to breathe deep through your belly to get full breaths in, don’t expand your lungs wide, do it through your belly. And keep up the good work avoidin’ laying on your left side like you have been. Once you’re up and out, you’ll have to keep things slow so they’ll heal good.”

“How slow?”

She exhaled through her nose and spoke his name. “I need to tell you, it’s by the skin of my teeth that I’ve been convincing Hersh that you and the little boy still need carin’ for. Please work with me on this. Agree to take it slow.”

Nope. He couldn’t just do nothing, Sophia was missing! Why did everybody keep forgetting that part? “He can kick me out all he wants, I don’t give a shit — that little girl ain’t gonna get found in one piece if I keep things slow.”

“There are 9 or 10 people searching for her on the regular, Daryl. You’re gonna heal badly, permanently, if you don’t go slow,” she warned. “You and your friend both need to learn to do what your bodies need.” She paused. Smirked for half a second before tucking it away. “That came out wrong. What I meant is that y’all need rest, and not aggravate what’s gone wrong and make it worse.”

Before leaving the room, she turned back toward him. “It’s that Hershel still wants y’all not just out, off his land. Clean off.” She held up a hand as if she didn’t know what to do next. “I don’t think that’s right, and I don’t want it. And I can see how many of your group want to stay, are helpin’ out. Y’all are good people. So please, mind your manners and that mouth around Hershel, Daryl. It’s you and Y/N’s brother that are causin’ him the most concern, and ultimately, it’s gonna be Hershel’s decision.”

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later

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Carol brought him supper, again. The meal was quiet, until small footsteps and a knock along with “Mr. Dixon?” sounded outside the door.

It was Carl, asking if he could eat dinner with him. “And I brought you one of my comic books. I figured I could show you the pictures and read to you the words. They’re saying you can’t read right now. That stinks. I get to read and walk around a little, at least, I just can’t move a lot.”

Daryl waved him and his folks in, felt a brief moment of pride that the antibiotics he’d supplied had saved the kid’s and T-Dog’s life, then he asked Carl when he’d be able to run around.

“Mr. Greene is hoping I can do stuff like normal soon. I still get really tired when I move. But I wanna be strong if Sophia needs me, so I’m doing what he says is best.”

Did Y/N or Patricia put him up to this?

“Do you still think she could be okay? I know that a lot of our people are losing hope, but I still think she could be okay. Dad does, too, and Mom, and Y/N.”

Daryl thought to himself how he’d go through everything he had gone through for Sophia again for that kid, gladly. “‘Course I think she’s okay. Prolly sleeping in a queen-sized bed wherever she’s stayin’.

Rick chatted to him in between bites of scrambled egg. “Based on how the search goes tomorrow, we’ll be altering the grid again.” He asked Daryl his opinion on where would be smartest to focus the search efforts in the new area. (It was upstream, obviously. And Daryl wasn’t used to his ideas being taken seriously, it was a nice change.)

He kept glancing at Carol as the conversation went on. She’d gotten all wet-eyed when Carl first spoke up about wanting to be strong for Sophia. Stayed quiet when Rick talked.

But by the end, she didn’t seem so lost anymore.

He watched from the side as she thumbed her cross necklace, kissed it—then caught him watching and gave him a tiny smile.

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later

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He’d hobbled to the window to have another smoke. Getting in and out of bed still hurt, ain’t that bull?

It was just about dark, there was only a blurry strip of orange left at the very bottom of the horizon.

Daryl looked out at the land. Saw the campfire, saw Andrea on top of the RV.

T-Dog noticed him from his spot by a cluster of trees where he was having a smoke, too, and he waved once to Daryl before turning around to resume his own cigarette break in privacy.

Midway through a particularly deep drag (a tricky thing to do when inhaling deeply hurts because you got a cracked rib), there was some giggling outside his door in the hall to the front.

The dread that he was gonna get caught and kicked out for smoking sent a jolt into his veins. Not sure why he cared so much all the sudden.

He’d already put out his cigarette against the outside of the windowsill when the familiar sound of her laughter registered in his ears, so his muscles stopped feeling so tense.

Leaning on the sill, he then watched her and Glenn just about torpedo down the porch stairs and toward a field as if they were rac—no, wait, they actually were racing. He definitely didn’t snort to himself about it then wince because snorting hurt. The short-haired chick, Baby Spice, and the farm boy spilled onto the porch to watch—nope, scratch that, they were joining in.

Where were they even g…okay, to some old tree stump.

Y/N’d mentioned how Daryl was only 6 or 7 years older than them, but sometimes it felt like a hell of a lot more. Her and Glenn together, especially, together they acted like they was 12-year-olds.

After Daryl saw what was maybe a tie take place, he felt creepy just, ahem, staring at them from the window. So, he shut the screen back down and gimped his sore-ass self to the bed again.

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Day 4 of being stuck in a damn bed.

You

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“Lore? How about you sit a minute?” She looks like she’s either going to pass our or throw up, so you don’t know whether to guide her to a seat or hold her hair back.

“It’s the, um—” she grabs a lock of her hair and folds it over her nose, breathing in slowly while walking in the opposite direction of the campfire. “What is that meat?”

“Rabbit.”

Through her nausea, she’s still encouraging enough to offer a genuine “Well done!” even as she tries to tamp down her gag reflex.

Yeah, Shane and you set up snares yesterday, and today one worked.

You point to the pine grove. “I finally set up my hammock over there. Let’s — it’s just, you look like you need to lay down.”

“I will, I just have to talk to Daryl first, he’s been, um—” she pauses again to exhale slowly. Her color is nonexistent right now. “He’s been smoking outside his window, and, and I’m worried that if Hershel sees—” She suddenly bursts into tears, and that makes her gag more.

The biggest problem right now is that Mr. Greene still wants your group off his land once Carl and Daryl aren’t bedbound.

That Daryl went through his awful accident is a blessing in disguise; it’s buying you all time.

Maggie is openly upset with her dad about it. Miss Patricia and her boy don’t agree, either.

You’re mad at the man, too, like — you get that your group is threatening simply by the fact that there are more of you and you’re armed — but what about your conduct here has been threatening? Minus the mishap with Andrea almost killing Daryl and how Shane has been a little dominant, you’re all helping out, keeping the campsite clean, staying quiet, respecting the property.

Like, yes, y’all killed a walker that had sprouted legit gills because he it was trapped in one of their wells, but the guy was dead. Quite literally a corpse, not even a "he" anymore; it, the corpse, was usurped by a virus. His soul had moved on.

Mr. Greene is a faithful dude, he’s supposed to be a man of God, so why would he kick…never mind, he’s scared for his family, you get it, you get it.

People have done atrocious things to each other since it all went down, no one can deny that.

Well, there’s still hope. He can and will change his mind. Carl, Lori, and new baby need a safe place.

Happily, the awkwardness of trying to sit side-by-side in the hammock makes both you and Lori crack up. You stop awfulizing in your head, and she seems calmer, too.

“What was it you were going to talk to Daryl about again?” you ask.

“He’s been smoking out of his window. I picked up the butts when I saw them. We can’t give Hershel any more reasons to not want us here. He’ll see it as disrespecting his home, his land…” Her voice goes up, and she’s back to crying. So far, you and Glenn (and Dale, just don’t tell Lori that Glenn told him!) are the only ones who know about the new one she’s got in there.

“Y/N, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this — I can’t, I can’t…”

“You already are, mama,” you whisper softly. “Lore, I’ll do whatever it is you and baby need, Ricky will, too. Come hell or high water, Lori, we will do what it takes.”

“If it even lasts that long.” She wipes her eyes and turns her head away “How long will it last, you think? Truly? And if I don’t lose this one, too, how long until one of those things catches them, rips them apart?”

“You can’t think that way.”

“We have to think that way! My son was shot, he nearly died and he, he, he can’t even walk around for more than 10 minutes without getting exhausted. And Sophia?”

You close your eyes. You know; Carol’s been sharing your tent.

“—What are the chances Sophia is alive? Truly?” she challenges. You stay quiet.

Sophia is, most likely, not alive anymore. You’ll search until she’s found for as long as it takes, but it will likely be her body that is found.

“Carol understands it, too, honey, she told me yesterday, said it again today, and I cannot imagine she hasn’t told you, too, as she cries herself to sleep. And, and even if that sweet, innocent girl is still alive, what are the chances she wasn’t kidnapped and God knows what else?"

She's out of breath. "Our families, friends — they died or were killed, and are now dead. Almost everyone we knew, Y/N. So how can you honestly tell me she,” and Lori points to her stomach, “will have a happy life? That my baby will have any semblance of a normal, safe life! Or that, that, that she’ll even survive long enough to make it out of diapers when the only way she will be able to tell someone that something is wrong is by crying, and putting herself and everyone else at risk!”

When she finally stops, she lowers her head to her knees and pulls at her hair, sobbing.

There are ideas and viewpoints floating around your head as something to respond with or comfort with, but nothing is coming together enough yet. Having been raised with fosters, you know without doubt life is never predictable and safe, even with the best-laid plans. Most importantly, you learned that no one’s life, absolutely no one’s life, is ever worthless or meaningless.

But the major thing that keeps repeating in your head is how Lori very clearly just called the new one “she.”

Before you can put that to words, Lori stumbles out of the hammock, stumbles and few yards forward, kneels, and gets sick.

Wiping your own tears, you kneel beside her, hold her hair back, and lightly massage her neck.

She first apologizes, then quickly spirals into putting herself down and panicking about how-awful-she-is-but-she-can’t-but-she-can’t, so you figure it’s a good time to interrupt.

“So. You thinkin’ you’ve got a girl in there?”

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

Him

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

“Did he read you the one where Science Dog becomes real?”

Because Carl did happen to read him that comic book, Daryl knew what that sentence meant. “Yeah.”

“That’s a fun episode! Oh, um, ‘issue,’ whatever the word is,” Y/N self-corrected. “Ain’t it just so— ‘miracle’ barely describes how well Carl is doin’.” She shifted in her spot and used her good arm to massage her bad side. “Hey, did Ricky mentioned how Carol was today?”

He shook his head. Y/N grinned.

“She was out first thing, came back last. She was vocal, outspoken about the search and where to go. Probably why she was about to fall out when she got back.” A nod. “It was really good, she didn’t seem so broken today.”

Daryl grunted. “Good. Should be.” He shifted on the mattress and tried to get comfortable again. Ouch.

“Hey, was you—um, were you—smokin’ out your window last night?” She asked the second part under her breath as if it were a big secret.

“Maybe.” Is my square gonna preach about smoking?

She nodded slowly and went to take another bite of food, but paused and lowered her fork. “Lori asked me to ask you. She, um, would’ve come herself, but she’s a mite sick. When you have a smoke, please tuck the butt in a tissue? Lori cleaned ’em up earlier when she saw them outside your window.”

“Why? Is Hershel one of them super-Baptists?”

“Daryl,” she murmured. “Please. We all gotta be on our best behavior so we don’t get kicked out as soon as you and Carl are better. He already wants us gone, you two being injured has been our savin’ grace. If, if Mr. Greene’s sees smoke butts, it might will be seen as another strike. Even as someone who smokes, do you like seein’ butts on the ground?”

He chewed. Swallowed. Grunted, “I’ll put ’em in a tissue.” After piling in another forkful, he hummed in appreciation and asked, “Who bagged the rabbit?” Been about a week since any meat.

“A snare got one. We cracked open one of them Foxfire books and set some up.” Y/N was sad about the rabbit, Daryl could tell. “Shane remembered most of the steps from Boy Scouts,” she detailed.

“He clean it, too?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t cook tonight, too, did he?”

Carol usually made meals, but she’d hit the sack early. He’d last seen her at lunchtime (and Carol probably would have known how to cook rabbit meat a little better)

Y/N answered him with her mouth full. “He actually did, Shane and me.”

“No wonder it’s nasty.”

She made a psht in response, and then right as Daryl was taking a particularly big bite, chirped, “Then starve.”

He snarfed.

It hurt, but he hadn’t burst into a laugh like that in a while.

And in truth, he was really enjoying the food.

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

later

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

Another dream that he didn’t want hit him from out of nowhere, the same way Andrea’s bullet had.

Except, he didn’t feel disappointed when he woke up, he felt freaked out.

In the dream this time, Carol was kneeling on his bed, crying and reading the comic book. He didn’t know what to do and he couldn’t move. Then Carol kissed his cheek and asked him “Is this the one where Sophia becomes real again?”

When he woke up, he clawed his way to the window to have another smoke.

It took a lot in him to not holler out with a loud-ass cuss when he stubbed his toes on the dresser. It accidentally hurt his broken ribs and collarbone while trying to not fall over as a result. Lots of hushed cusses.

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

Day...um…shit, right: Day 5 of being stuck in a damn bed

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

Day 5 for him. Meaning it was either day 9 or 10 for Sophia.

Day 9 was the day he’d been hoping to not get to. And if it was actually day 10 for her…

It didn't matter the date, what he’d said about Sophia was still true. She was a smart kid, there are just a hell of a lot of hiding places where she could be holed up in. Farmhouses with open doors or windows, barns, empty businesses and buildings, even cars. As for food and water, wasn’t like there weren’t a creek, orchards and overrun gardens for miles around.

Here he was, still stuck in a damned bed while the twangy blonde lady waved that stupid, skinny flashlight in his eyes for the twentieth damned time!

Patricia clicked her tongue. “I get that cabin fever can make anybody get short, but irritability is one of them things that can pop up or get worse after a concussion, Daryl, so I ain’t too sure whether or not this is a change for you.”

I’d be fine if Sophia was back! Everything would be, bitch! “I’d be better if I wasn’t stuck in here.”

She took a moment. “Let’s check your balance again, then.”

He exhaled through his teeth and was enraged to find himself suddenly about to cry.

“If you can walk without tilting, we’ll both know you’re good to go,” the lady continued. “My friend, I ain’t trying to humble you, I want to see if you’ve improved enough.”

So, Daryl held the blanket over himself as he got himself out of bed and slowly stepped down the hallway. He tried to walk normal, got a little dizzy doing it. Not too much, but…

He didn’t quite hold back the tears of frustration.

Patricia must’ve felt sorry for him again, because she walked him back to the room, had him put on long pants and a shirt, then escorted him out to the porch barefoot.

“We should ought’ve brought you out here more regularly these past few days. Fresh air and sunlight can do wonders. Sit here awhile, then we’ll try a around the house.”

Her using a ‘should ought’ve’ made him think of Y/N.

Within a minute, Dale in his little On Golden Pond fisherman hat and T-Dog with a towel over his forehead saw him from their perch on top of the RV, and raised hands to wave at Daryl.

From the far left, he heard Y/N’s laughter along with Glenn’s and what was probably Baby Spice and the short-haired chick Maggie and the farm boy Jimmy’s. He stood up and — damn it, still wobbly and sore — made his way to the side of the porch to see what they were doing.

They were kicking a ball around, squealing like schoolkids.

Carl was sitting on the same tree stump that the gaggle of them had raced to last night, cheering and razzing off and on.

Seeing just, like…innocent shit like this was nice.

But, standing up made Daryl tired, and he (again) felt creepy watching them, so he shuffled back to the little bench right as Patricia was coming back outside carrying two glasses of sweet tea.

“Your two friends and Maggie got back from their search, sad as you can get. Jimmy and Beth did their own check around the pastures and the perimeter again, too. Have every day since you took those falls.” She took a sip of her drink. “Seems this kickball or soccer match, whatever they’re doing, this was their way of cheerin’ themselves up. Looks like it’s working. So long as none of y’all get hurt again, I’m happy.”

When Patricia eventually suggested it was time to try a walk around the house, Daryl did his best.

His best was shit, he was still unstable on his feet and couldn't use his arms much or breathe too deeply without it smarting.

Patricia was upbeat about it. “You have maybe a day or two left with your bandages, anyhow, Daryl. Let’s get you back to a chair, you look like you’re fixing to topple over.”

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

later

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

A loud knock and a face he hadn’t seen since the first day he was laid out in there woke him from yet another nap. So many naps! He kept needing more sleep.

“Heard you was still in the hole another day or two. Figured you could use more music to keep you from goin’ too stir crazy.” Shane handed him a cassette with a homemade label.

“This one’s from back in the day when we needed to make our own tapes so we could listen to the good stuff. I know my sister’s mp3 got a ton on it, but this one’s special. No need to skip around or charge it or plug nothin’ in.” Shane offered a flick of his hand in goodbye. “Alright, man, take it easy. Rest up.”

“Wait, how was Carol today?” Daryl called to him before he left the room.

Shane turned. He still had a slight limp from when he hurt his ankle. “Hangin’ in there. Went a little hard today and yesterday, but she seems to be in a real good place, believe it or not. Ain’t lost all hope, but she’s accepting what happened, if you get me.”

Daryl was pretty sure he got him. “Accepting her kid is gone?”

Shane’s stare was hard and felt to Daryl like a challenge. “Yeah, man, accepting that her kid is gone. We’re still goin’ out every day in the hopes we’re wrong, don’t misjudge me. And I want to be wrong, Daryl, I really do.” He licked his teeth and brushed a hand over his buzz cut. “It ain’t rocket science. That little girl is, in all likelihood, dead. Has been for days, you get that, right?”

Daryl was good at glaring contests. “I get it.”

“Look. I’m not out to be the asshole. I just don’t want none of us gettin’ ourselves killed over this. You and my sister could’ve got bit doin’ what you did at that house one week back, and in the process, she ripped her side back open and injured her shoulder worse than it ever was. And you?” He shook his head. “You almost died, Daryl.”

“It was worth it, jackass,” is not what Daryl intended to say, but that’s what he said. Daryl wasn’t planning on saying anything, in fact, because he knew he’d likely blow his cool and risk Dr. Farmer hearing it, and apparently the old guy was ready to chuck them off his land ASAP.

Y/N’s brother bowed his head and rubbed his neck. Didn’t say nothing for a solid…he didn’t know, minute, maybe? Felt awkward as hell, tell you what.

“Listen, dude, I know we ain’t buddies and all that,” Shane told him. “To be real, I didn’t trust you at all, especially when Y/N started going off and learnin’ to hunt with you. I thought you were some white trash tweaker who’d try to feel her up or worse, so I tailed y’all, spied on y’all the first three times you took her out, ready with my shotgun.”

…What the hell was this?

“But I’ve grown to respect you, and what you just said right there told me all I need to know. You’re a decent guy, Daryl.” Another rub of his newly buzzed hair. “Tell you what, I’ll come by tomorrow after the search, tell you what we find and where we looked.”

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

Day 6 of being stuck in a damn bed.

You

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

“Dude, you told him how you spied on us?”

“I was moved, Y/N, you should be proud of me,” Shane drawled, winking. “Said I’d tell him about the daily searches, so, today I did. Hey, and his balance was better today, might should be good to go the day after tomorrow. Oh,” he adds. “I lent him my mix tape as a peace offering, too.”

“Aw, romantic.”

He groans, and you twist a corner of your mouth in a tiny grin. “I’m just shocked he didn’t grunt back to you all intimidating with somethin’ like ‘I knew you was there, you was louder than a’…eh, I got nothing.”

Shane keeps the bit going, and does it pretty good, if you say so yourself! “‘Yeah, I knew you was there. Couldna been more damn obvious.’”

His copying of Daryl’s voice and mannerisms is so spot on that you crack up and clap your hands in delight.

Shane looks pleased. “That was a pretty good impression, just then, wasn’t it?”

“Alls you needed was to make it a ’lil more throaty, like a, like a, a grumpy tomcat,” you laugh.

He smiles, opening his mouth to make a funny comeback, then laughing instead. “I’ll have to practice.”

“Speakin’ of practice, can we call it?”

“Yeah, we can call it. Good work.”

Coo, practice is over. You’ve been having self-defense lessons every day the past few days, sometimes twice. Shane’s been wanted to restart teaching you ever since the incident with Ed Peletier seven-ish weeks ago. You could’ve called the sessions quits whenever, obviously, but it feels more satisfying when one’s instructor is satisfied and ends the lesson, right?

Also, Shane kinda needs that control over something — which sounds iffy, you know, you know.

But he’s been so much more like himself since the lessons started! And him instructing you in fighting is doing him good not only because it’s stroking his ego a little and shutting him up about his terrible Fort Benning idea. The lessons are helping offer him a sense of control and assuredness that he’s keeping his sister safe by helping her defend herself. That’s always been a thing for him. Call it a side-effect of having a beater in the house for the first several years of his life, maybe.

It’s a very fruitful side-effect, all things considered — today, stitches and achy shoulder combined, you bested him!

The only catch is that it…kinda involved his balls.

You still feel bad about it. It wasn’t you using practice-strength to simply get the upper hand and then stop, like practice is supposed to be. It was adrenaline/angry-at-and-his-egging-you-on strength. You fought dirty.

“Sorry again about whackin’ you below-the-belt.”

“No way, Y/N, don’t be,” he brushes off. “Don’t feel bad for doin’ what you’re supposed to do. Especially if it’s a man you need to fight off, which is why we’re doing this — you need to fight dirty. So,” he clears his throat, “if you can go for the giblets, go for ’em.” (Grandma Jean referred to genitals as ‘giblets.’) “That’s how you got the drop on me — and that’s what I wanted! You did good, got that?”

“Just — check tomorrow and, and the day after in case you got bruised testes, okay?”

“Don’t call them ‘testes’… weirdo…” he trails off and makes a face. Then, he stands and helps you up. “My boys are fine, I’m sure. Ankle’s hanging in there, too. How are you holdin’ up? Didn’t overdo it, right?”

“Nope, I feel good! And I’m so happy about tomorrow.”

His smile is polite, but not quite reaching his eyes. “Ready to attend Sunday dinner in the house tomorrow night?”

You press your hands together and make a little skip as you walk. “Do you think it means Mr. Greene’s comin’ around, too?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Wet blanket, much? “Grumpy we didn’t risk our necks to visit the jarheads at Fort Benning?”

“Y/N.”

“That was mean, sorry.” Your choice of phrasing was rude, that is, not the sentiment. Shane hadn’t mentioned the military base in a few days, so you’d hoped he’d dropped it. Places with the military, feds, even FEMA, those places had turned out badly, especially if you were a civilian. And you along with your Mama were wary of places like even before what happened to Atlanta.

Miles and miles away from the city as you were when it happened had given you a front-row seat to when it happened, when it got firebombed. It was like watching the Twin Towers collapse over again, expect this time it wasn’t on a TV screen, and the sounds of it happening in real time had been loud enough to reach you. The pops, the rumbling. Then there’s the memory of Carl’s face when he saw it all clear as day before you finally reacted, covered his ears and blocked his view.

This place, this farm, this is the safest place right now. It has good people, shelter, protection, space, food. Probably would be the safest place around for a long time if your brother group didn’t mess things up. Carl needs it, Lori and the new baby need this place.

And with the fact that your brother had been planning to leave the group, you’re worried sick that he’ll change his mind, split and leave you behind, or worse, get you all thrown off the land. If Shane didn’t take the property by force OH my gosh, why the fuck did you just think that, bitch? How could you think that about him? Stupid, stupid idiot girl!

Looking at your brother, you see him staring across the lawn to where Otis’ memorial lays. His thousand-yard stare is back. Poor Shaney. You look away so as to not be, you know, staring at him, but when he breathes out heavily after a few long moments, you turn to look.

His nose twitches before he blinks rapidly and shakes his head a little, rubs his buzz cut, and puts his hands on his belt.

“I know you don’t like the idea, but Fort Benning the smart decision,” your brother declares, doing that thing where he looks in too many directions. “The military is equipped, at least, and they’re trained how to handle things. It’s smart to seek that out.”

Whether it’s because you’re amped after being victorious at practice or because you’re freaked out after thinking something so cruel about your own brother (that he’d take over this place by force??), as you make your statement in response, you imagine it as you pulling the pin from a grenade and chucking it.

“Is that why the powers at be did what they did to Atlanta? Because they were so trained?” The pause you make, as you watch the words connect in Shane’s mind, is the time delay before the grenade’s fuse ignites and explodes. “Or maybe killing civilians or even their own was always a possibility in their eyes. The ends, of course, justifyin’ the means.”

He licks his teeth before running a hand over his mouth. “You’re really goin’ there, Y/N? Do not go there.”

But this has been festering too long. He needs to hear it and understand it. You love him. And he’s gonna have a whole lot else to deal with once Lori’s news gets out — it’s going to be messy. So this Fort Benning stuff has to go.

“But Shane, that would’ve been us with not just Mama, but Carl, Lori, and maybe even a comatose Rick if, if what happened—” your voice rises at the memory. “If what w-went on hadn’t happened, made us wait.”

If your mother hadn’t been killed, you two wouldn’t have found her dead and walking, which had revealed that she must have caught the illness before she died. And if you two didn’t find her dead and walking, you and Shane wouldn’t have quarantined, instead would’ve gotten Rick out of the hospital a day earlier and gone together with your mother and the Grimes to the city. Which means that she would’ve started showing symptoms on the road, and that the rest of you would’ve not only possibly caught it but would have possibly spread it.

Shane knows all of this, he knows it, which is why you only voiced a small part of it.

But instead of Shane standing before you with his hands on his hips…you begin to see the man you don’t recognize again. The one that’s been showing up more and more, the one that’s scary and coldly pragmatic. The one that seems like he’s about to lose control, he’s back. He’s standing where your brother was, and he’s very, very angry.

“Y/N, now, you listen good.” The man’s finger points straight at you and he gets too close to your face. When you step backward, he’s right on you. “We would’ve still been stuck outside the city limits, the wait to get in was over a day long.” With his finger, he jabs at your sternum, hard, and does it again with every hissed question.

“You remember that part?” — “The reason we were stuck in that line of cars that went on for miles?” — “Remember that?” —

You can’t think. You can’t move. The best you can manage is a stuttered “Sh-Shane—” because inside your head is nothing but white noise.

A strong, rough, sustained pinch on your collarbone and his yell of “—I asked: do you understand?” is the only reason you remember to nod as you stare at the ground and steady yourself from tripping backward.

“What happened in Atlanta was a shit show, an absolute shit show and what happened there was a disgrace, hard stop.” He spits, “but you know what? It don’t mean it was like that everywhere else—is that fair for me to reckon, uppity bitch?”

The insult doesn’t have time to sink in because he starts gesturing at his head, then yours, then his again, banging his hand against his head, then clapping his hand against your temple, hard, and now you can' think, he's too close, he’s too close, why is he so close, why does he keep hurting m— “Does that make sense, Y/N? Does that make sense to you?”

It’s not until he tugs you by your shirt and slowly shouts in your ear, “Y/N, I asked you a question: Does that make sense?” that you remember to nod again.

Your throat seizes up, so you swallow and hold your breath.

“Don’t bring up what happened with our mother again,” he orders, letting you go with a slight shove. “She was sick, we didn’t catch it, and we’d have been stuck outside that city either way.”

The man then leaves. You just stand there.

There’s no feeling of relief that he’s left you alone. Your hands are tingly, but you’re otherwise uncertain how you feel other than stupid and sick to your stomach. No, really, you might lose your supper.

You begin to walk in whatever direction, step by step, wiping the tears as they fall and trying to ignore the loud refrain in your head of stupid, stupid girl that interplays with all the noise of what did you do and why didn’t you and why did he and why would he and how could he as well a louder WHO WAS THAT?

Because it sure as hell wasn’t Shane. It can’t have been Shane, Shane’s not that.

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

Him

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

The short-haired chick came into his room looking all rattled and asking if Y/N was in there. Woke him up from a nap (so many damn naps), too, what the hell?

He quietly croaked back,“Does it look like she’s in here?” and closed his eyes to try and get back to sleeping.

“I figured she…”

Whatever it was Maggie figured, she didn’t say nothing more, she mumbled “sorry,” and closed the door again.

Was…was everything okay?

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

You

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

Footsteps and light panting sound behind you, bringing you back down to earth.

Before dread can kick in at full blast, you recognize who’s behind you even before you hear his voice calling your name, and it is a relief to know he’s there. He’ll know how to fix this. He’ll know what to do.

But what if he saw? What if he’s not the only one?

A water cooler of shame gets dumped over your head like you’ve just failed big at something. Your throat tightens again.

You idiot. You stupid, stupid girl.

Not turning your head much because your eyes are probably red, you at least control the shake in your voice. “H-Hi, Mr. Horvath, what’s up?”

“Kiddo. What just happened?”

“What do you mean?” Might as well stall when you don’t know how to say it. Maybe Dale only saw Shane looking huffy, maybe he didn’t see or hear any of what just happened and maybe, just maybe, you’re being overly dramatic about what happened. He's your brother, siblings sometimes smack each other around a little, it's not like he punched you. See, that would've been bad...

And it’s just as well you don’t know what to say back, because after hearing a door clack open then shut, you peek to see not only Dale standing before you, but Margaret, jogging from the back of the house in your direction?

She calls your name — and is holding the book you’d lent to Jimmy! Thank God, honest fodder to stall from answering Dale.

“Did Jimmy finish it?” you ask lightly.

But Maggie looks unsettled. “I grabbed this on my way downstairs as an excuse when I saw what was happenin’.”

Oh, no. Y/N, you stupid, stupid girl.

“What did I just see your brother doing?”

Stupid, stupid girl.

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

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

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[galacticlamps]

dr who asks!! 2, 12, 16, 18? o:

2. what’s your favorite moment with your least-favorite doctor?

My least favorite Doctor is 4, so that’s frankly a lot of material to comb through looking for the brightspots, forgive me if I’m forgetting something that should be obvious

(The honest answer would be saying it’s something from the audios Deleted Scenes or Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos, but I’m resisting that urge because it feels like cheating, since the things I don't like about 4 are all on TV. In the EU I’ve only interacted with things of his that feature characters I do enjoy, so for all I know the majority of his audios might address those issues, and it’s only TV 4 specifically that I’ve got anything against)

I like a lot of his back-and-forth with Romana I, especially in The Ribos Operation, though I think it’s largely due to Romana more than him. Her presence - and her introduction in particular - give him someone to bounce off who it’s harder to effectively be superior towards, so his general attitude feels less bullying with her than it can be with some other companions, right from the start - but also, since he’s got every right to be a bit offended that he’s suddenly been handed an assistant by higher powers, his resistance towards her is not only justified but more compelling to watch than when he’s being down on someone like Harry or Leela, which in my opinion is the kind of Doctor-Companion tension that detracts and distracts from a story, and gets old pretty quickly. His later interactions with Adric could also be considered a favorite of mine - especially when they’re more or less traveling alone together in Keeper of Traken and Logopolis - because they similarly bring out a new side to the character that I appreciated, again putting him in a position he doesn’t quite know how to deal with - so I feel like we see a little more genuine-ness from him than usual, even if it’s just that he’s genuinely perplexed/at the end of his rope with this teenager.

12. what’s a headcanon that’s you forget isn’t actually canon?

I did answer this! (but I couldn't manage it without name-dropping you twice oops) Polly’s racer ex-gf seems to have sunk especially deep into my brain and is just there now, can’t get it out.

16. is there a character you feel is generally misunderstood by the fandom?

I hear the words ‘character fandom doesnt get’ and Rose Tyler will forever be the face that comes to mind. But I feel like that’s still a somewhat spicy topic, and while the things I have to say about her are definitely not hate & honestly not even negativity towards her as much as a rejection of the more popular interpretations of her character, it still feels safer not to get into it lol. “Let people enjoy things” & all that

I think One is hugely flattened out by the fandom, to the point that when I first started Classic, I was convinced I wouldn’t like Two at all because of how surprised I was by how much I liked One. Yes he’s older and stuffier than his immediate successor, and yes William Hartnell was playing a character inherently different from what the brief is these days, but even people who talk about One in a positive light can frequently skip over many of his complexities & the different sides he absolutely does show us over his time in the role, to focus on his significance as The First & the character who established the show. Like he only gets partial-credit as an incarnation.

Six too - people often say his audios redeemed his character, but from what I’ve heard of them so far, his character hasn’t really changed at all, even though the caliber of plots he’s handed does improve (though I also don’t think his TV plots are that bad, I can’t pretend the audios haven’t been on the whole more polished). I understand why Six is so often painted as one of the meaner Doctors, but in a way it couldn’t be further from the truth - he’s abrasive for sure, but he’s SO liable to be sarcastic, pretentious, and downright scathing that the show embraces that, and even his messier TV-plots tie it in so that any serials that feature him being particularly morally questionable in one place also make a point of proving him to be ultimately good-hearted later on, in a way that doesn’t get prioritized with other Doctors who are less overtly biting. When 6 says something mean and then does something that really shows how much he cares, he comes off as both a kinder and more complex character than 4 continually walking through the universe talking down to people, but doing it with enough ‘charm’ that it doesn’t jump out to the writers as requiring addressing or justification. With 6 it feels like a trait that’s actively utilized in his episodes.

And this one does stretch my definition of ‘fandom’ a bit but there’s hardly a classic companion, but especially the 60s and especially the women, who I wouldn’t argue falls into this category. It hardly even feels worth mentioning in this context, because in my experience it’s not a problem among fans of that era & therefore the bulk of people who tend to be discussing Barbara, Susan, Vicki, Sara, Katarina, Dodo, Polly, Victoria, or Zoe... but then again, it’s 2022, so I suppose if you know any of them well enough to even mention at all, you are a fan instead of a casual viewer, and I’ve certainly seen reductive takes that must then technically count as ‘fandom misunderstanding a character.’ And I get how that would happen - the 60s is the beginning of the show, and format-wise, the most distinct from what comes after it (black&white, missing episodes, really diverse serial lengths all spliced up into 20-minute mini-plots) - and as such, it’s likely to’ve been watched by fans of later eras who are curious to make a comparison, but not necessarily likely to appeal to them itself, so you’d get a fair number of people who are more “fans of Doctor Who who’ve watched the era” without being “fans of the era.” But let’s not reduce our assessment of female characters to whether or not they scream a lot and then pretend that’s a feminist perspective, shall we? Just say you didn’t pay enough attention to her episodes to actually speak on behalf of her character and move on, jeeze. Don’t pretend that’s all there is to her just because you went looking for some poor un-emancipated female character from the past to cite as a talking point in your pre-written & deeply unoriginal argument about how far television/Doctor Who has come over the years

(This answer is already way too long to get into another rant, but I think that last one has a lot in common with EU writers who have to invent a new Jamie for their book because they’re writing for 2, so Jamie’s gotta be there, but they clearly missed or never really enjoyed how he was actually characterized onscreen.)

18. what other piece of media would you recommend to fans of doctor who?

ugh that's so hard because I think it depends so much on what you think of as the defining/alluring feature of Doctor Who, and there are so many it must change person-to-person. Plus, a large part of it being my favorite show is that I don’t think there are many other things like it at all. But I’ll try:

Obvious answer, but Star Trek TOS for highly-episodic, stand-alone stories through space/time. TOS’s years perfectly overlap with the Second Doctor’s run, and that alone makes for a v interesting comparison, both in content & production values/approaches (someone write a book on this so I don’t have to)

Hitchhikers Guide & Dirk Gently - also obvious, but despite the 4th Doctor’s run being a low-point for me personally, I do think the combination of tone & literal randomness in Douglas Adams’ stuff is very DW-ish in general. The 2016 Dirk Gently series especially is quite different from the books, but absolutely weird enough (while still being interesting & plenty follow-able) to appeal to an audience that’s into NuWho/I might even say Torchwood tbh. Honestly even Adams’ nonfiction Last Chance to See (a book recounting his travels to witness endangered animals all over the globe) might also appeal to Dr Who fans, again for its unique voice/tone, but also its approach to humanity’s history w/our environment & what we both hope & fear for the planet’s future. It’s more memoir than science, so it’s very Important Science Topic Through The Lens of a Lay Person, which I feel is itself the approach Doctor Who takes in exposing companions/its audience to the crisis of the week & its real-world relevancy

I know there have been short stories by Jorge Luis Borges, Nikolai Gogol, and Ray Bradbury that have the vibe of Doctor Who stories, but obviously that varies from story to story & I’m unhelpfully blanking on many of the specific ones. Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles in particular feels like a very relevant choice though - it’s basically a series of independent short stories that all take place over the course of several decades chronicling humanity’s attempts to colonize Mars. It definitely has that Doctor Who-ish mix of the scifi and the mundane and I think you could see anyone from like, Barbara & Ian to Amy & Rory inhabiting the same world these events are taking place in - it’s got that very slight touch of fantasy about it in some ways, and also reminds me a bit of the prose Short Trips. (oh and I just remembered Big Finish adapted some of them for audio with Derek Jacobi & Hayley Atwell!)

I haven’t read enough of H G Wells (including the literal Time Machine, I know, I know) but War of the Worlds might appeal to DW fans - I was surprised by how much the book focused on the impact an alien invasion had on everyday life, but really, that’s the whole point of it! So perspective/vibes-wise, I consider it Doctor-Who-like in that it’s scifi that’s not hugely about the complex lore or world of the aliens, but a couple of human people who are frankly shocked by suddenly having to handle life-threatening aliens in England. Donna in Turn Left could’ve been living in this book, if that makes sense.

The Road to Mars is a novel actually written by one of the Pythons (Eric Idle) and I don’t think it’s all that popular, since sketch comedy guys aren’t typically who you go to for scifi novels - but in that vein it’s sort of on its own, definitely not reliant upon a ton of high-concept/heavy scifi lore, it’s funny, and presents a universe that sounds compatible with some versions of the future that exist in Doctor Who. It’s about a comedy duo & their android who are just trying to make the rounds across the solar system as low-end performers & accidentally get caught up in a Big Scifi/Political Plot, so I’d say it has Doctor-Who-level antics & the wrong-place-wrong-time premise that has prompted many a serial

If 60s British television (at Limegrove Studios specifically!) and/or Peter Capaldi are enough to hold your interest in something that bears little resemblance to Doctor Who itself, I’ve been singing the praises of BBC’s The Hour for about a decade now, but it’s not at all scifi so that’s probably a weirder recommendation.

I’d also throw in The Umbrella Academy - I enjoy the comics but like Dirk Gently, the TV show probably has more in common with Dr Who - for time travel as a major plot element, characters forced to work/grow together in one of the weirder definitions of found family, and a world that’s allowed to be strange & interesting and sometimes unexplained (ie no dense lore behind its scifi parts, while still having plenty to think through w/paradoxes & foreshadowing to figure out & keep you engaged)

I’m not terribly far into it myself, but the Discworld series for that same anything-could-happen, sometimes it’s very stand-alone, sometimes it’s characters you’ll get very invested in, funny but poignant fantasy/scifi universe that doesn’t take itself too seriously but can make some Extremely Good Points through genre fiction

at this point it feels both redundant and necessary to say Gaiman

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[glassheartjukebox]

the art of obliviousness

feat. ushijima

a/n: aoba johsai, specifically makki, being a good friend! makes! my! heart! go! ba boom! reblogs are always appreciated. find the rest of the soulmate au special here

2k words

6 fucking tallies. the marks on your arm mocked you, letting you know the opportunity to meet your twin flame slipped through your fingers like sand over and over and over again.

III

excitement overwhelmed your body when you stripped down after a long day and noticed the first three marks on your forearm. most people didn’t meet their soulmate on the first pass (or in your case, three passes in one day), but this meant he was definitely in miyagi.

to makki:my tallies showed up !!!

to makki: [image attachment]

From makki: aye thats great

from makki: watch it be the obnoxious johzenji guy who wouldnt take a hint

to makki: why would you wish that on me

to makki: best friend card = revoked

from makki: be still my beating heart.

from makki: you’ve wounded me

you giggled lightly, reminiscing on the events of the day

the volleyball tournament was brutal. aoba johsai lost their chance to go to nationals. your throat was raw from screaming and cheering for them. nonetheless, you were proud of your boys. oikawa put in his all, iwaizumi was blossoming into a great future ace, and makki and mattsun’s blocks were immaculate. you were sure by the next tournament they could destroy shiratorizawa.

transferring to aoba johsai in your second year and meeting makki changed your life for the better. he’d roped you into managing their rowdy team. you had to admit, the other volleyball teams were… intimidating. the tall guys from the other teams towered over almost everyone and walked around with stern looks on their faces. even worse were the guys that hit on you despite your obvious manager uniform (iwaizumi helped you to fend them off). the most physically imposing team by far was shiratorizawa. their stony faced ace and crackhead-esque middle blocker were jarring to say the least. but at least they were professional and polite to you. (expressing the sentiment earned you the privilege of dealing with a pouty oikawa).

your first tournament was a whirlwind. you had barely registered anything other than encouraging your boys. it was all so intense. checking your arm for tally marks wasn’t exactly your priority, especially with your tracksuit jacket on. consequently, you weren’t too discouraged by the three marks glaring back at you from your arms. you would find him eventually

IIII

the first tournament of your third year had commenced and the pressure was on. oikawa’s intensity was enough to make you want to tear your hair out. he was now not only determined to beat his long time rival ushijima, but some random underclassman setter from karasuno. nonetheless, makki had your back and reminded you to occasionally check your arms for tally marks in case your soulmate was once again in attendance. thus far, the stubborn three marks glared back on you. soon enough, your manager duties consumed you. you held iwaizumi back from killing oikawa in front of his beloved fan club. as soon as oikawa and yahaba eyed kiyoko, karasuno’s manager, you grabbed the back of their jerseys.

“don’t even fucking think about it,” you gave them both a stern look.

“but why-” oikawa started to whine and you cut him off. “think about how angry you get when someone bothers me. give her the same respect.”

both boys sulked off, dejected. iwaizumi clapped you on the shoulder and gave you an appreciative smile.

the match between karasuno and aoba johsai was absolutely brutal. the neck and neck competition had you sweating from the sidelines, watching the teams barely hold their composure. when the short redhead’s spike got blocked and aoba johsai got the winning point, your body moved on its own. you ran straight over the boys, hugging them as tightly as you could.

a shiver ran through your body and your hairs stood on end. it felt like someone was watching you. glancing over your shoulder, you caught a glimpse of someone in a purple tracksuit leaving the stands. you shook your head at your paranoia. of course you were being watched, you were standing on the court with the winning team.

after the match, the team was eating and taking bathroom breaks. during a rare moment of solitude between you and makki, you leaned over and whispered, “do you really think he's here?”

He looked back at you and rolled his eyes, “only one way to tell,” gesturing to your right arm. letting out a deep breath, you slipped off your jacket. the tallies had climbed from three to four. makki grinned at you.

“have i mentioned how much i hate this soulmate system?” you huffed. makki simply ruffled your hair.

IIIII

somehow, the aftermath of the match was even more hectic than the match itself. you had so much paperwork to sort out, so many water bottles to fill, and a large group of boys who you had to babysit. that’s how you found yourself briskly walking through the halls of the stadium, praying no one would bother you. the seven full water bottles and stack of paper teetering in your arms were incredibly heavy. if someone came over to make idle chat with you, you decided you would bark at them. your patience was fraying from your own anxiety over the coming matches. of course, there was a wall of purple jacket adorned jocks crowded around right where you needed to walk.

your annoyance completely masked your judgement and you walked right through them, muttering very blunt “excuse me’s” the whole way through. You finally emerged from the large group of guys when your brushed shoulders with someone, effectively causing you to drop everything in your arms.

“fuck,” you muttered, dropping to your knees and trying desperately to pick up all the papers and bottles littered around your feet.

a large figure appeared next to you on the floor.

“im sorry, that was my fault,” a deep voice rumbled from next to you, causing you to jolt. a calloused hand brushed over your own, handing you a messily gathered stack of papers. you looked up and made eye contact with shiratorizawa’s illustrious captain. You were overcome with embarrassment.

“thank you,” you said quietly before quickly making your escape. upon returning to your team, oikawa immediately noticed how flustered you were.

‘oh manger-chan, what got blushing?” your patience was entirely gone, as you shoved the papers into oikawa’s hands and put down the water bottles.

“im going to the bathroom” you growled, glaring at oikawa. as you stomped away, you heard iwaizumi smack the back of oikawa’s head and scold him.

you splashed your face with cold water, overwhelmed. the pressure of manager duties mixed with your lack of professionalism in your interaction with ushijima had you feeling inadequate. your desperation about finding your soulmate clouded your judegment. you knew full well this might be your last chance to find him for a long time. if he was a third year, he likely would not be at the spring tournament. composing yourself, you stood straight and pieced together your put together facade. outside of the bathroom, makki was waiting you.

“spill. what happened.” a looked at you with masked concern. you explained the past ten minutes to him and expressed your worries.

“the team appreciates you, you know. i dont know what they would do without you. and if you dont meet him today, fate will bring you together. likely sooner rather than later.” makki said as he pulled you into a hug.

“really? sooner rather than later? what is that supposed to mean?” you snorted. makki only responded with another pointed look at your arm.

“are you fucking kidding me? i missed him again?” you grumbled.

“dont worry your pretty little head about it,” makki gave you a knowing smirk. what the hell was that supposed to mean?

IIIIII

6 fucking tallies. the marks on your arm mocked you, letting you know the opportunity to meet your twin flame slipped through your fingers like sand over and over and over again. your frustration had built and you found yourself crying with the rest of them after their loss to shiratorizawa. the third years vowed to stay for the spring inter high tournament, and you let out a sigh of relief. you had one more tournament with your boys. fuck a romantic soulmate. you had your platonic ones right here.

you all slowly exited the gym and you once again retreated to the bathroom, freshening up and removing your jacket. you were far too sweaty from anxiety and hugging the boys.

you looked down at the six tallies, resigned. it was whatever. shit happens.

you were met with both makki and mattsun whispering when you exited. you raised your brow, suspicious of the plotting best friends.

“y/n! come on, we’re going for a walk before we have to get on the bus,” makki softly smiled, clearly exhausted.

“i’ll hold your jacket,” matsukawa piped up, taking it from your arms. you three walked through the halls, idly chatting to distract yourselves from the somber feeling in your chests. rounding the corner, you stiffened. at the start of the secluded hallway stood shiratorizawa. the two boys on either side of you were strangly calm, as if they knew this would happen

“let’s take another route,” you suggested, wanting to save them from the exasperation of passing the winning team.

“it’s fine y/n,” makki smiled at you, gripping your arm. as you passed shiratorizawa, his grip became damn near painful.

“ow makki what the fuck-“ you started looking down to rub at the now sore skin on your arm. you froze. IIIIIII. it stared back at you, mocking you. you turned around and walked by the group of boys again, staring at your arm. another tally appeared.

IIIIIIII

you glanced between your arm and the boys, clearly panicked. makki and mattsun watched from a distance, slightly amused by your reaction. however, their eyes were not the only one on you. the “guess monster” had quickly figured out why you were pacing by them, staring intently at your arm. he counted eight marks. he subtly glanced at his teammates forearms, earning some confused looks. wakatoshi, ever clueless, had completely missed the marks building up on his arm.

tendou grabbed him and rubbed at his forearm.

“tendou, what do you need,” his voice tapered off as he noticed the marks. with tendou’s obvious looks between him and the pretty girl standing on the other side of the hallway, he quickly realized what was happening.

internally you were freaking out. how the fuck were you supposed to know which one of the 10+ boys standing in front you were your soulmate? should you just walk up and ask?

you were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice the tall man approach you until he was looming over you.

“may i see your arm?” for the second time today, ushijima startled you. without thinking you held it out. his strong hands grazed tallies on your arm. to your surprise he leaned down and placed a kiss on the marks adorning your skin and glanced back at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“hello, i’m ushijima. i never caught your name.”

“it’s y/n,” you breathed out, relieved. then it hit you.

“oikawa is going to kill me!” you squealed. ushijima looked back at you quizzically, “why does it matter so much?”

“you two are rivals,” the exasperation was clear in your voice. ushijima just responded by knitting his eyebrows together, clearly not understanding why this had you distraught. “you don’t have to deal with him pouting and being a brat over this, i do,” you said with wide eyes. ushijima just chuckled at you. he took out his phone and handed it to you, “put your number in, i want to see my soulmate again soon,” he paused, then added, “you could come to our celebratory dinner with us.”

you looked at him incredulously, then gestured to your uniform. he simply squeezed your hand and pulled you into a surprisingly firm hug. leaning down so his lips were level with your ear, he whispered, “oikawa is going to have to cope with this. i don’t want to lose you. what are you doing tonight?”

“after i spend time with my team? nothing as far as i know,” you answered honestly.

“meet me at the park, i want to get to know you,” he stated bluntly. ushijima was full of rough edges and unending honesty. for the third time today, he had you flushing. you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

©glassheartjukebox all written content belongs to this user. do not repost, modify, or copy content

[savethelastdan]

Sesskagu Week Day 2: Green (Apart)

Idea came from @dearestpartnerofgreatness​

"I was wonderin' when you'd get here." Sliding both hands behind his head, Inuyasha looked his half-brother up and down with more than a little smugness. "Took a week to finally admit to yourself that you were wrong, stupid?"

"I was not wrong," Sesshomaru growled, despite the tinge of relief that the hanyou's statement proved that he'd successfully hunted Kagura down. That he'd spotted his brother sleeping on a curved branch of a tree outside heart of the village was both a detriment (in that he had to listen to him talk) and a blessing (he had no interest in walking around the village looking like a fool while she danced around avoiding him). "She overreacted."

A single dog ear twitched in amusement. "Great apology. Should go over well."

"I would think," Sesshomaru retorted, voice lowering as a group of villagers reached the top of the hill and promptly about-faced upon seeing him, "you would welcome the opportunity to remove her from your home, so that you may have peace once again."

Inuyasha's mouth opened comically wide before snapping shut. "Humph. Fine."

Stretching until several bones in his back cracked, he leapt down from the tree and bounded off. Sesshomaru turned his back to the tree, trying to appear unflappable as possible.

He hadn't been wrong, no matter how much the wind sorceress fussed. If anything, she had taken advantage of his generosity. Had he not lost months of sleep, seeking a way to stuff her soul back in an unmastered body, with an unmastered heart at her disposal? Had he not then allowed her to join his party on their travels despite the constant arguing between herself and Jaken and how his mood suffered because of it?

She had repaid him by deciding, for no reason at all, to start collecting. Nothing of importance; naturally, the bits and bobbles that drew Kagura's interest were as useless as they were commonplace. Withering leaves, sharp stones in muddied colors, feathers and scales and scraps of cloth or petrified wood, all constantly underfoot.

It was childish. It was pointless. And so, after the hundredth time something small and irksome found itself under his foot, Sesshomaru had tossed the whole pile away.

Which was how he'd been left with a blow to his chest that took a full day to heal, while Kagura ran off to invade Inuyasha's stupid little house in the stupid little village. The fact she'd rather be surrounded by humans than be around him was taken with the full force of insult she'd meant it to be. By now she'd probably convinced Kohaku and Rin to take her side…

At least he had Jaken's understanding.

He should not even be rewarding such a tantrum, by marching here to collect her. But…despite the headaches that her presence occasionally brought, her absence had endeared him to certain feelings. Those that, perhaps, could be analogized to how Kagura herself might have felt, back in the days where her much-wanted heart had been miles away.

Not that he could ever bring himself to say something like that out loud. Even to her, who had managed to wring quite a few utterances out of him that even Rin would have had trouble believing had come from Sesshomaru's own tongue.

There had to be a line somewhere.

(Perhaps time would wear it down, eventually, but unless she came home, the situation was moot.)

Annoyance stung the space behind his teeth as Inuyasha returned, no wind witch in tow. From the grumpy expression on the hanyou's face, he wasn't too thrilled about it either.

"She says she ain't interested in talkin' to ya." Folding both arms over his chest, Inuyasha glared in Sesshomaru's direction. "But you're right, she's overstayed her welcome. So start thinkin' how you're going to convince her to leave."

Sesshomaru bristled; demonic energy flooded his veins. "I do not take orders from- "

"Cut it out, you stopped being scary when you let Kagome start callin' ya Big Brother." The last few words were said in a high-pitched mimicry of the priestess, though it was quickly followed by the classically-ridiculous smile that Inuyasha always got when he mentioned his wife. "If it helps, I think she's just being difficult. She stopped thinkin' up creative ways to kill you a few days ago; the rest of the time, she's just been moping around. One gritted-teeth apology'll probably work."

That most certainly did not help, because as soon as they were in the same room again Sesshomaru was sure the reason for her ire would no doubt return in full force.

Inuyasha's brow dropped. "You seriously not gonna do it?"

"Would you?" Sesshomaru retorted icily, before he could stop himself.

"I," Inuyasha said, with the slow relish of someone who had been waiting for this exact question, "would've never thrown out her stuff in the first place."

Tenseiga and Bakusaiga's commentary was, while amusing, not particularly useful. Beating his brother to a pulp for being a know-it-all would do nothing but earn the ire of his sister-in-law. Which Sesshomaru did not need today.

"What's the problem with having stuff, anyway," Inuyasha continued, scratching behind one ear as though this was a casual family visit. "Other than the fan and feathers, it's not like she got to keep any shit around before. From what Kohaku said, Naraku didn't like for any of 'em to go exploring much, either. She's got the time and you've got the space, so it's a stupid thing to fight about."  

As much as he did not want to admit it (and one could imagine just how much that was), that was a fair point. As was his belief that she could have chosen a more interesting and less obnoxious form of self-expression.

"You know, she mentioned somethin' a few times when she was cursing you…" Trying to keep his tone even was difficult, but the thought of Kagura going home helped. Even though this particular statement felt kinda unfair, even against someone like Sesshomaru. "How you didn't lift a finger to save her life, and now you won't even let her enjoy it, or…?"

Sitting with his feet propped on the windowsill, Jaken hummed a happy tune. It had been over a week without the annoying witch around, and he felt in much better spirits with her gone! No more sudden bursts of wind to knock him over in the corridors, or piles of random garbage from who-knew-where cluttering up the place. And there was still at least two weeks before Rin and Kohaku came for their annual summer visit and disturbed his peace.

Granted, Lord Sesshomaru's mood had been…sour since she'd gone, to the point that he'd left the castle in a huff the day before. But that was not a problem for Jaken; if anything, it hopefully meant that soon they'd be back to the old days of 24/7-wandering, offering challenges to whatever foolish yokai crossed their path! Not that having time to rest in the castle wasn't nice, but he certainly missed the days before Lord Sesshomaru had settled down, so-to-speak, and regulated his travels to the fall and spring seasons.  

Suddenly, a powerful aura electrified the air, sending a chill zipping up through his legs. Leaning towards the window, he scanned the landscape with excitement. That must be Lord Sesshomaru! Perhaps he had returned with a task, a quest, just like the days before his Lord's heart had turned -

Oh no. Oh no.

Because yes, indeed, there was his esteemed Lord touching down in the front courtyard. But unfortunately, right at his side, with a smile he could see from here, was that annoying sorceress. As he watched, Sesshomaru brushed a hand against her arm with such uncharacteristic softness that it made the kappa feel ill.

Kagura said something (probably wicked, from the way her scarlet eyes glinted in the sunlight) and then twisted to unload something off her back. To Jaken's horror, she was carrying a knapsack. The same one she used to collect her stupid little trinkets all the time.

And it looked heavy.

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST V

Chapter 5

The only time Saint Denis seemed peaceful was early in the morning. The sun had barely risen an hour or so before Arthur found you descending the white steps into the street, dressed in a pale yellow pinstripe blouse and flowing black skirt. Scuffing your tapered boots in annoyance, you look about yourself with a scowl on your face. You have a delicate ornate fan in hand, swatting it ceaselessly to dispel the early morning heat that plagues you. “Mornin’ Miss DuBois,” he calls, tipping his hat in greeting, “you’re out early.” “Mister Morgan, good morning,” you chirp, regarding him with a tight-lipped smile. “I just had to get out,” you hiss, the beating of your fan a sharp tempo accompaniment to your words, “this heat is awful !” Arthur chuckles, motioning for you to walk with him. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, feeling the sweat bead on the back of his neck where the sun beats down on him relentlessly.

You walk side by side on the cobblestone streets, taking in the relative quiet. A lone carriage rumbles by, a couple strolls past you and you greet them cordially. It's pleasant, but it won't last. "So, what’s the plan?" He asks, hooking his thumb in his belt loop, "how do you wanna approach this whole thing with Jebediah?" Not one to beat around the bush, Arthur wanted to have at least the bare bones of a plan in place. The last thing they needed was to create more problems, especially ones that would involve the law. That arrogant bastard probably had them all on his payroll. "Well, it's not going to be easy," you sigh, coming to a stop outside the tailor's shop, perusing the wares on display in the window. "Jebediah doesn't like you one bit , Arthur," you click your tongue, regarding his reflection. You can certainly see why. He's dressed in a simple white button up with the sleeves rolled up and a fitted blue waistcoat that shows just how broad and defined he is. The faded blue jeans and black cowboy boots complete the look, and you take extra care not to spend too long staring at the way the denim hugs his muscular thighs. He scoffs, shaking his head. If he notices you staring he doesn't say anything, much to your relief. "That so? I really couldn't tell!" He huffs, harsh sarcasm dripping from each word. Turning on your heel you simply smile up at him, you even dare to flutter your lashes. "Don't worry about that Arthur, I've got it handled," you tell him, your smile turning mischievous. "What are you up to?" He asks warily, narrowing his eyes at you. "It's nothing bad !" You grumble, fanning your face. Standing still let the heat cling to you and it was sending you dizzy. Arthur follows your lead when you start walking again, falling into line at your side. You casually make your way towards one of the gardens, trying to keep in the shade and the minimal relief it brings as much as you can. "I just commented on how safe I would feel if I had someone with me, and broached the idea of having my own personal bodyguard, is all," you comment flippantly, glancing at him, "and maybe I managed to convince Jebediah to hire you for just that very position." "Well I'll be damned!" Arthur exclaims, impressed you were able to pull off such a feat. "What can I say? I know how to play the damsel when I need to," you preen, rolling your eyes playfully. Not only was Arthur possibly going to get away with a large sum of money and other riches, but he was going to be paid for the privilege. It's almost too good to be true, but he bites his tongue. You look so proud of yourself and he can't bring himself to rain on your parade. If things go sour he can figure it out, he always manages to somehow. The flow of conversation comes easily as you continue to walk, taking your time leisurely to admire the botanical centerpieces in the gardens. Saint Denis always did have the most beautiful flowers and bushes and you often went there when you needed time to reflect and collect yourself. "We should probably get you back," Arthur hums, "or that brother of yours might send out the whole damn cavalry to find you this time!" The comment forces a snort out of you, hiding your snickering behind your fan. It's funny because it's a scenario you can definitely see happening, not that you'd blame him. William had been overly cautious ever since you had come back, terrified of letting you go out alone even for the simplest of things. While you could appreciate his fears it was becoming stifling and you didn't know how much you could take. "Come on," Arthur chuckles. Neither of you want to go back, especially knowing that you have to force yourselves to perform roles you didn't care for, but do it you must. That doesn't mean you don't take your sweet time doing it, though.

“Don’t walk away from me, William! We are not done talkin’ about this!” “Why do you have to turn everything into an argument?” “Oh, I do apologize! I suppose I shouldn’t be angry when somethin’ is arranged about me when I’m not even in the damn room !” You hadn’t been back in the apartment barely half an hour before you and your brother were embroiled in a heated argument. Arthur stood off to the side, leaning against the wall by the window, deciding right quick that he wasn’t going to get in the middle of it. You more than had this handled, if your imposing stance and downright mean glare had anything to say about it. Even Jebediah, as disgruntled over the whole affair as he was, didn’t interfere when you started biting back. “It’s just for a couple of weeks, sister!” William rebukes in a defensive hiss, throwing his hands up in the air, “Jebediah feels that—” “—Jebediah! So Jebediah feels like I should be plucked from my own home just because he says so! Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go pack my bags right now, shall I?” You snap, hands pinned tightly to your hips. Arthur can see the way you’re gripping the fabric there so tight your knuckles are turning white. You’re angrier than a wildcat with its tail on fire and it’s too much for William to take. He falters, all that built up bravado in front of the man he idolizes, the man who swindled him, suddenly wilting in the face of real fire. “I-I just think it’s a good idea, after everything that’s happened,” William tries to reason with you, but there’s no conviction to his voice, “you know Lady Kramer loves it when you stay with her, and it gives Jebediah time to get the wedding in order!” The mere mention of the wedding makes you bristle and you open your mouth to scream how there will be no damn wedding , but you hesitate. Your fiery gaze flits between William, Jebediah, and Arthur, the last of which regards you with a look of warning. It sobers you, making you think about the consequences of your actions. You inhale deeply, grounding yourself as best you can; you’re still brimming with anger, but at least you’re not ready to commit murder. “I’m not going anywhere , William,” you speak with a sense of finality that has William reeling from the vicious bite of it. The tension is still rife in your stance when you turn away from him to face Jebediah. His sharp eyes watch you closely through the smoke of his lit cigar, regarding you with an air of condescension that you return ten fold before striding towards the door. You stop just before leaving, your hand on the handle. “You coming, Arthur?” It’s subdued, nothing at all like the brimstone and fire you were spitting moments ago. The flames have simmered down until nothing but embers were left, your eyes imploring as they look at him. Arthur stands straighter, sizing up Jebediah as he passes him. The pompous snake seethes as he follows you, noticing the way you smile at him all soft like before shooting him a look of contempt as you leave. Outside the door, you let out a deep breath and rub your face. God, those men made you so mad. Arthur barely closes the door behind him before you’re stalking off, having to hurry his steps just to catch up with you. He matches your pace at the top of the stairs, eyeing you like you’re a coiled viper about to strike. “Well that was something,” he remarks. “Oh, go dunk your head in the river!” There’s no malice in your retort, just an annoyance that isn’t aimed at him. You descend the stairs with a swiftness that catches Arthur off guard, your dress front scrunched up in your hands so you don’t trip. “Don’t fall now,” Arthur mocks, a mix of sardonic humor and genuine concern. The last thing he needs right now is for you to trip down the stairs and break your neck because you’re all wound up. You curse him under your breath, feet hurriedly taking you out into the street without so much as a backwards glance. You just want to get away , but not under someone else's instruction. “What now?” He asks, coming to a stop at your side. A look of consideration crosses your face, your brow creasing

in thought. Then, you perk up, practically glowing. “I think it’s time you meet my Ginger,” you grin, excited as you bounce on the balls on your feet. “Ginger? Who’s Ginger?” “Just c’mon!” You roll your eyes at him, already walking ahead of him. You laugh that pretty laugh you do when you’re all kinds of excited as you quicken your pace to a playful trot just to keep ahead of him, causing Arthur to smile despite his grumblings. You were already feeling lighter now that your mind was taken away from the issues at home, focused instead on the true love of your life. When you come to stop outside of the Saint Denis Stables Arthur stares up at the big painted letters, perplexed. He feels like a goddamn fool ; who in their right mind would name their kid Ginger? “There she is!” You grin, hurrying up to a stall at the far end. The scent of hay and horses is rife inside, but it doesn’t seem to faze you. In fact, Arthur swears you look more at home here than you do in that dollhouse apartment of yours. Seems that country upbringing never left you and he wonders to himself just how you looked out there on the plains, young and spirited, wrangling wild broncos to bring back home. He coughs, the image a little too good for him to be imagining. Instead, he follows after you, noticing how the stable hands all greet you by name. You must spend a lot of time there, but that doesn’t surprise Arthur, given how animated you are about your horse. True to her namesake, a beautiful chestnut Kentucky Saddler mare stands to attention in the stall, ears forward and focused on you. There’s a bold blaze of white down her face that covers her muzzle and her eyes, dark and intense, follow your movements easily as you reach your arms to her. “There’s my good girl,” you coo, giggling when she whinnies in response. The gentleness she shows you as she trots up to you, pressing herself into your awaiting arms, is compelling; the nag truly trusts you, and you clearly love her just as much. Arthur knows how good it feels to have that trusted bond with an animal, feeling the same way about his own stallion. A snort to his right catches his attention; speak of the devil and he shall appear. The Ardennes paws at the ground of his stall, none too pleased at being ignored. Arthur chuckles, moving to scratch his neck as the large beast stretches his head over the gate. “I had him put in the stall next to Ginger,” you explain, smiling warmly at the display, “I thought he’d like the company.” “I imagine he’s grateful for the fine company, thank you,” Arthur chuckles, patting his horse's neck. The display of affection sends your heart aflutter as you watch, colour dusting your cheeks. If he were to ask you’d play it off as the heat, but you knew it was more than that. You could see that Arthur had a soft spot for his horse, treating the stallion with the respect and kindness that he deserved, and you liked that about him. In fact, you were finding a lot to like about the outlaw, now that you actually took the time to think about it, and the thought unsettled you — could you really let yourself fall for a gunslinger?

[iguessilovebakugou]

Beautiful  ||  {Dabi/F!Reader}  ---  Heathers: The Musical --  Cause I’m a stupid fuck who can’t control themselves

Me:  *Doesn’t post anything for 2 years*

Also Me when Dabi is on screen at any point ever:   👁👄👁

I’m also throwing this out there because like...I highly doubt anyone still looks at my blog, so I can hide my fucking shame that I’ve been thinking of this idea on and off for almost 2 years now. 

Now...spoilers under the cut because I have to explain some things...

I know they just recently announced that Dabi “died” when he was a kid.  So I will have to specify that I’m aging him up to be 17, since that would just...make sense?  

  --  --  --  --

“Venti salted caramel coldbrew, extra foam.”

There was a raid against villains that day.  It had been the only thing anyone could talk about.

You had overheard the editors talking about it as they made their coffee.  It was a good thing, right, that they were taking the fight to the bad guys?  That not all hope had been lost?  Most people just wanted an ounce of good news.  Some confirmation that the way of things would hold strong - a nice sugar coat to swallow the hard pill.  Though, it seemed like all any report worth their salt - you included - could discuss was the fall of society, what people were going to do if...or...when, rather, the heroes were yanked from their spot light and cast down in the dirt with the rest of civilization.  

You weren’t a giant fan of them, considering, but you understood the necessity for someone to hold the mantle - someone who guaranteed the safety the mass populous required to keep them from falling to complete anarchy.

Your phone buzzed as a message appeared at the top, blocking the article’s title from view.  Your boss, Fumihiro...again...for the 8th time since you left the office.  

[INCOMING MSG] ::  Where are you right now?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam for...”

Your brows furrowed, your stance shifting from one foot to the other.  

[OUTGOING MSG] ::  Getting the coffee.

[OUTGOING MSG] ::  Why?  Want me to get you something?

Heroes.  The way of things.  Society.  

Most people didn’t seem to care too much about it once their phones locked and it was out of their line of sight.  When the terrible wasn’t in your face, it was easy to forget that everything hung on a tiny thread that was always threatening to snap.  It was hard, you figured, to care about the state of the world when you were more concerned about mundane matters that were pressing in the moment.  The rest of the world seems small when you have everything else to pressure you.  It was easy to forget.

[INCOMING MSG] ::   www.wtxz319.rdio.com/live/93901_error

[INCOMING MSG] ::  u need to watch this

You wished you could forget about it.  Wished that it hadn’t been looming over your head since...well...

Your thumb hovered over the link, the screen went black and a stream started loading.  Some radio podcast?  You read the title:  ENDEVOUR TAKING ON U-A’S BEST AND BRIGHTEST?! UNLIKELY SON AND FATHER DUO?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam!!”

Your heart leapt up into your throat as your eyes met the kid behind the counter.  He paused only a moment before using his fingers to nudge your drink closer to edge.

“Oh.  Sor-”

“Have a good one.”  

You locked your phone as you shoved it into your back pocket, grabbed your drink and made a beeline towards the door.  The streets were busy, given the hour. You had just enough time to get back to the office and finish your article on  before the evening - just enough time for an editor to look it over, to do some quick fixes and-

You phone buzzed again, and Fumihiro’s face once again flashed on the screen.  

[INCOMING MSG] ::  Did you see it?

[INCOMING MSG] ::  We need to be the first people on this.  I don’t care about what else you were working on.  This is more important.  

You stopped at the crosswalk, staring at your phone and ignoring the woman who had to move around you with a huff.  But...you were so close to getting to the meat of what the Safety Commission was hiding.  You were so close getting to the heart of it all and, maybe - just maybe - throwing away some of the uncertainty that was hanging over everyone’s head after All Might’s retirement.  

After the weeks you spent staking out police stations, hounding hero agencies, digging through dumpsters for any shred of proof the Pros and Police were hiding something - the favors you had to call in for breadcrumbs and scraps alone?!  And just like that, he wanted you to drop it all?  For what?  Some stupid radio show speculation?

You didn’t hesitate to hit the phone icon in the upper corner, stomping towards the intersection.

“Hey-”  You cut Fumi before he could even finish your name.

“What do you mean ‘drop the article’?  Do you know-”

“I don’t care!  This is bigger!!”

“What’s bigger than-”

“Did you even watch the link I sent you?  Every station across Japan is getting hacked and it’s been playing on loop for a few minutes now on a few stations.  It’s slowly moving to others now.”

“Fumi what the hell are you talking about!?”

 “I, TOUYA TODOROKI, WAS BORN THE ELDEST SON OF ENDEVOUR.”

It...was hard to think for a moment.  Like a memory, reaching up from the dirt to grab you, to finally take you down to hell.  

That voice.

It felt like he was right in your ear, in your head.  It had been so long since he had done it to you, since he...no...not him.  He was dead.  His father confirmed it.  You confirmed it.  You knew he was gone and there was no bringing him back and - 

“I’VE KILLED OVER 30 INNOCENT PEOPLE UNTIL NOW.”

No.  No, no no no no it wasn’t in your head - because if it had been, the sound of blood pounding in your ears wouldn’t be able to mask it so well.  You froze, your hands shaking as your breath caught in your throat.  It couldn’t be him.  I couldn’t, it couldn’t...

“You need to get back to the office - I want you on this.  I already have a copy of it in case you can’t screen capture it -”

“I WOULD LIKE TO LET EVERYONE KNOW WHY I’D END UP COMMITING SUCH A HIDEOUS ACT.”

Because you’re a fucking monster.

Someone next to you stopped and looked up.  Then another and then another. You knew what they were looking at.  Who they were looking at.  And still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up.  You couldn’t do it - not again.  Not now.  Not after so many years of him being dead and buried where he deserved to be.

But he always had a hold on you.  Something that drew you to him.  And so...you looked up.

And as your phone and drink clattered to your feet, you felt the world stop.

“...Touya?”

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

September 1st, 20xx

Dear Diary - I believe I’m a good person.  You know?  Like, I believe there’s good in everyone.  But um...here we are!  First day of our Senior Year and I look around at the kids I’ve known for so long and I can’t help but think to myself - what happened?

You hadn’t really wanted to be friends with the Nori’s.  Not really.  They were stuck up snobs who made everyone below them miserable.  But there was a power to them that everyone respected.  You had been taught that knowledge held power.  And the Nori’s had power because everyone knew if you double crossed them, your life would be a living fucking hell.

“Ah, Nori and Nori.”

You grimaced into your knees as Nori Ueda vomited for a third time since you had been hiding out in the bathroom.  The teacher paused before sighing. “And Nori.  Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell?  You’re late for class.”

“Nori’s sick!  We’re helping her.”

You had given the low price of just sitting at their lunch table - once, no talking would be necessary - in the hopes people would leave you alone.  It was a simple fact of life:  Where there are teenagers, there are winners and there are losers.  And you had spent the majority of your High School career on the low end of the totem pole.  You were so low, in fact, it seemed talking to you was all but taboo.  Anything other than bullying, shoving into lockers, or calling out unfortunate break outs was strictly forbidden by anyone not wanting to suffer the same fate. 

But the Nori’s?  Solid Teflon: never bothered.  Never harassed like you had been.  They had a mystique, a pull, a confidence that couldn’t be matched.  And you would have killed to be like them.  

Perhaps that why you reached into backpack and yanked out the pad of hall pass papers.  

You opened the stall door and slipped out, making your wave over to the group.  Nori Ueda wiped her mouth.  Nori Makino was leaning against the bathroom counter, focusing on making sure her bright red lipstick was perfectly placed.  And Nori Kaneko?  She was staring down the teacher, hands on her hips, completely equal and completely ready to start a fight.  

The teacher laughed, so sure and so pleased that she had been the one to stumble upon the trio in the bathroom.   “Not without a hall pass, you’re not.  A week’s detention.”

“Uh...ma’am.”  Your voice trembled out and reverberated off the tiled wall.  It had been louder than you originally intended.  Everyone turned quickly to you, only for their attention to be immediately drawn to your outstretched hand you held.  “All of us are out on a hall pass...yearbook committee.” 

She snatched it from you.  For a moment, she simply glanced back between you, the paper, then the Nori’s, then back.  After a heavy moment, she nodded.  “It looks like you’re all listed.”

Nori Kaneko took it from the teacher, looking it over herself.  You tried not to make eye contact as she looked at you.  You instead focused on the teacher as she made her way towards the bathroom door.  “Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“This is an excellent forgery.  Who are you?”

You stuttered your name, shrinking under her sharp gaze.  “I uh...I crave a boon.”

“What boon?”  You weren’t sure if she was simply aggravated you had dared do more than answer the questions she asked or if the annoyance was just a constant manner of speaking for her.

You could forge anything thanks to your quirk - Copy.  All you had to do was see someone or something once or twice, focus on it as best as you could and like that, you could be that person.  From their mannerisms, their voice, to their penmanship.  Its why you stole the pad of hall passes, to skip class whenever you wanted, to have an excuse to be hiding out in the bathroom.  

It had worked...sometimes...

You stuttered out your name.  You could see the two Nori’s snicker in the background.  They had no clue who you were.  It was...somewhat insulting.  Their “friends” had done their best to make your life a living hell and yet you had flown under their radar.  

Your eyes darted between the three of them.  Nori Kaneko stared down at you, foot tapping and arms crossed as she took you in.  You couldn’t help but feel like a prey animal, stuck in the line of sight of the Apex Predator.

But your mama didn’t raise no quitter.  You swallowed and stood up just a bit straighter.  “Let me sit with you at lunch, once.  No talking necessary.  If...I mean, if people think you guys tolerate me, they might leave me alone.”

The laughter was instantaneous.  Kaneko looked back to the other two, her laugh light and condescending.  The audacity, it said.  The gall of you to ask to sit with them, of all people.  “Before you answer, I also do permission slips, report cards, and absent notes.”

“What about prescriptions?”

“Shut up, Nori.”

“Sorry, Nori.”  Ueda immediately slunk back to the shadows, gaze downcast.

Kaneka stepped forward and you thought for a moment she was going to shove you onto the floor.  You braced your feet, mentally preparing yourself for the force of her push...but it never came.  She was in front of you for a moment, and then the next, she was at your side.  She hummed under her breath and you could feel her eyes trail over your body.  Your school uniform a size too big, the bulky cardigan you had worn over it, the scuffed shoes and year old skirt.  Your hair was a mess, your face was bare, and you could hear the sound of your knees knocking together in fear.

“For a greasy little nobody,”  She started, reaching out a smooth hand and brushing some of your hair back and out of your eyes.  “You do have good bone structure.”

Nori Makino perked up, coming over to take a look at you.  She took your face in your hand, causing you to tense and try to pull away.  For a girl bordering 90 pounds soaking wet, her grip was rather strong.  “And a symmetrical face.”  

“A...huh?” 

“If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I would have matching halves.”  She looked back at you, nodding.  “That’s very important.”

“Of course,” Ueda added, glaring at you from over Kaneka’s shoulder.  “You could stand to lose a few pounds.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to gain some sense of control over the conversation - but like everything, Kaneko had the power.  She gripped your shoulders and turned you towards the mirror.  You tensed, feeling her arm wrapped around your shoulders.  You watched as she tilted her head this way and that before...smirking.  “You know...this might be beautiful.  Mascara, maybe some lip gloss and we might have something.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding once she moved away.  “I’ll need some blush, Nori, get your brush.”

You were frozen, watching as each item was brought out and laid on the bathroom counter.  A new jacket, skirt, perfume, a pallet of...color?  You gripped your bag, trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

“Take that thing off - it smells.”

The...thing?  You saw the Nori’s staring at you, waiting for you to comply.  You glanced down at your cardigan, pausing only a moment to sniff the sleeve.  It...wait, did it smell?  Would they lie to you?  You fumbled with the buttons, sliding it off your shoulders.  Makino snatched it out of your hands and before you knew it, it was tossed in the garbage.  

“Now, let’s make her beautiful.”

In that moment, you understood what was happening.  As Kaneko stepped forward, the smirk on her face, she watched you.  This...was an invitation.  Into their group.  Into the inner sanctum of popularity and the safety it brought.  No more bullies, no more humiliation, no more terror.  

“Okay?”

“Okay!”

They don’t tell you that being popular is more hell than it’s worth.   

You wouldn’t say you and the Nori’s were...friends.  It felt more professional than anything else.  You had a strict uniform you had to stick to - above what the school required.  Any accessory had to be approved by the trio. All meals had to be approved by Ueda - needless to say, the packed lunches your mother made every morning every morning included with a handwritten note never seemed to make the cut.  The make up you did every morning never was good enough.

They had high standards, more inline with a sort of...job than actual friendship.  In fact, over the past few weeks, it had been hard to tell if the three Nori’s were even friends to begin with.  There was definitely a power struggle between Kaneko - the obvious leader - and Ueda - who tried to exert her dominance every chance she could but was shot down by Kaneko.  Moniko was harder to figure out, more happy to follow than to lead.  She was...nicer than the other two, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was simply because she didn’t want the drama or if she just...simply didn’t understand that what she said held weight beyond being...noises in the air.

Dear Diary - It just seems like our job is being...popular and shit.

“There you are!”

When Kaneko wasn’t around Ueda was hardly as docile.  It was hard to tell she had thorns at all when she was standing next to the Cactus that was the head Nori.  But any chance she got, she made sure to inform you in less subtle ways that you weren’t welcome among the three of them.  

Which was obvious.  Your name wasn’t Nori.

You jumped as Ueda’s hand slammed your book shut on your fingers.  “Nori wants you in the caf - now.”  

Moniko hardly offered you a glance as you flexed the pain from your joints.  “Is that so?  What for?”

Ueda snorted, “I don’t know.  She just said to get your ass there...now.”

You normally punched out for lunch.  You sighed, pushing yourself away from your desk and standing up.  “How very.”  

If the two Nori’s heard your remark, they didn’t say anything.  Nor did they relay it to Nori Kaneko when the three of you had reached the cafe.

The Nori table was the nicest table in the entire cafeteria.  With the perfect white table cloths, centered exactly in the middle of the room, other kids from the “popular groups” would migrate around it like a port.  They would stay for the entire period or would flit about from table to table.  And at it’s head, sat Nori Kaneko.  She sat with her legs crossed, talking to another student who’s name you couldn’t quite place.  You always thought you had been good with names.  Turns out, you just didn’t know many people.

“Ah, you’re finally here.  Took you long enough.”

When Kaneko had offered the make over and...”admission” into the popular crowd, you had thought maybe you pegged her wrong.  Maybe she was just a normal kid, wrapped up in the politics of High School.  It didn’t take long for you to realize she was still the same mythic bitch you had thought she had been - you just did things for her now. 

“I need you to forge a note - in Souta Ishii’s handwriting.”  With a snap of her fingers, the boy she had been talking to reached into his pocket and yanked out a few folded up pieces of paper.  You didn’t need to open them to know what they were.  But when you did, you couldn’t find yourself surprised at the fact Souta was barely passing most of his classes.

“You’ll need something to write on.  Bend over, Nori.”

One day, it would stop shocking you how quickly Ueda would act to Kaneko’s command.  You paused, looking to your superior for a moment.  “Uh...I could just-”

“You’re not sitting with us.”  She answer simply.  

“...right.”  You took the paper and pen offered by Moniko.  You flexed your digits, feeling the flutter under your skin.  “What do you want it to say?”

“‘Hey baby girl, I’ve been watching you and thinking about us in the good old days.  I hope you can come to my party this weekend.  We can talk about us.  Love, Souta.’“  She leaned over, watching your hand glide over the paper in barely legible chicken scratch.  “Put an XO after the ‘Souta’ too.”

It was gone the second the O was done.  She looked over the note again.  “Perfect.”

There was a glint in her eye that didn’t...settle well with you.  With your quirk, you noticed certain...things about people.  Little ticks and tells that everyone has.  Ueda scrunched her nose when she didn’t like something - like everyone.  Moniko would fidget with her hands when she was nervous - like everyone.  And Kaneko would get a little sparkle in her eyes when she was about to ruin someone’s life.  

With each fold of the paper, you stomach dropped closer and closer to your feet.  “What’s that for, anyway?”  

You never really questioned why she did half of what she did.  It wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it.  “You know how Souta used to hang out with Arisu Nomaru?”

Of course you did.  You considered Arisu a friend - a good one.  She was the really only nice person at this school.  Of course, hanging out with the Nori’s meant that quality time with Arisu was...well, all but non existent at that point.  But she assured you, through texts, that everything was fine.  It was exciting!  That maybe, she could join you and the Nori’s for lunch one day.  It wasn’t possible, of course.  You never even bothered to broach the subject to the three.  Arisu was never going to be in the popular crowd and would be stuck watching them from a distance.

The only other constant in Arisu’s life - aside from her kindness and her exile from popularity - was the undying love she had for Souta Ishii.  Ever since...

“We all hung out with Arisu.  In kindergarten.”

Kaneko scoffed, looking up at you from under perfect lashes.  “Well, we didn’t all kiss her on the soccer field.”

You had to fight your body’s desire to snatch the paper out of Nori’s hand.

Monika gagged next to you.  “Oh my god!  I forgot Souta kissed Arisu Nomaru.  It was disgusting!!”

It took everything you had not to hit her.  She met your glare with cool indifference, adding a laugh for good measure.

“Souta!  Just the man I wanted to see!”  

Souta was a...handsome man to say the least.  You didn’t blame Arisu for having the crush she had on him, not by any means.  But what he had in looks, he lacked in anything worthy of personality - aside from just being a huge dick.  And where there was a Souta there was Jun Goto.  His best friend.  He was the smartest one out of his group of friends.

Which amounted as much as being the tallest dwarf, but hey - credit where credit was due.  They were both smart enough to know to come when a Nori called you - no questions asked. And in a flash, the two pulled themselves up and made a beeline for the table - not after giggling to themselves first.

“Be a sweetie and give this note to Arisu Nomaru for me.”  

Dread immediately filled your stomach.  “What? No!”

“What the hell are you talking to Arisu for?”  Jun demanded, reaching for the note.

“Don’t read it!  She was having a heavy flow, and wanted some advice from Gyno.”

“That’s fucking disgusting!” You would have thought the boy had been burned with the way he flicked the paper onto the table, back away and retreat to the table he had come from. 

“Yeah, I’ll take that.”  You snatched the note up, gripping it tightly in your hand.

It had been a while since anyone had stared at you with such venom.  If looks could kill, Kaneko would have you dead to rights.  Her eyes darkened as she glared at you, hands slowly moving to her hips.

But you weren’t going to allow yourself to back down.  Not over this.  This was too much.  “Arisu has had a crush on Souta for 13 years.  This...”  You waved the note.  “This would kill her.”

It was quiet for a moment - and in that moment, you realized you made the biggest mistake of your fucking life.  Nori smiled, stepping forward with a soft chuckle.  “I didn’t realize we had a problem.”

“We’re not but-”

“Are we going to have a problem?”

You faltered for a moment.  

“No, I just-”

“So you have a bone to pick.”

“No, Nori I just think you’re bigger than-”

“You know, when I dragged you out of the dredges of inferiority, I was shocked how far you would go.”

Before you knew it, she had succeeded in pushing you down onto the bench.  Your elbow slammed into the top, causing you to cry out.  Immediately, all eyes were on you.  “So you wanna tell me, why now, are you pulling on my dick?”

“Nori!  I’m not trying to argue with you!  Just doing this-”

“I know!”  She snatched the note from your hands.  “It will ruin her.  That’s the fucking point.”  She offered the note to Ueda, who happily took it.  You watched helplessly as she skipped back over to Souta.  While he didn’t seem too pleased to be the one to deliver the note, he begrudgingly got up from his spot and headed to the corner of the cafeteria.  

"You still have a lot to learn about how things work around here." You swallowed, digging your nails into the palm of you hand. "This whole school is my own personal candy store. I do what I want, when I want."

You watched as he slammed a fist on the table, causing Arisu to jump.  She froze, stuttered, and then almost dropped the note when he tossed it to her.  Your heart hammered - maybe if you got there fast enough, you could stop her from reading it.  You could distract her and -

You were forced back down in your spot and perfectly manicured nails dug into your skin.  “You got a good thing going here,”  Kaneko stated, very matter of factly.  ���You could join the team, or you could bitch and moan.”  You winced when her nails dug deeper into your skin.  “But if you test me one more time, you will end up just. Like. Her."

Ueda grinned, an ugly, spiteful thing. "Welcome to our Candy-"

"Shut up, Nori!" All three of you flinched as your leader stood. Fixing her skirt, she offered you a sweet smile that made your stomach roll. "We'll see you after school."

They left you in that spot for a long time, staring at your hands.  It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that you finally looked up.  And there above you was Arisu.  She grinned and offered you the note.  “Look!  Look what Souta wrote me!  He invited me to his party this weekend.”

You stared at the paper, then back up at her.  You tried to smile - though it didn’t look like she noticed.  “This proves he’s been thinking about me!”

She...seemed happy.  And you knew in this school that happiness was hard to come by.  Especially with people like Nori’s.  You opened your mouth, before closing it again.  You stared at that letter, at the handwriting that perfectly matched the papers left on the table.  You could tell her, warn her it was a prank.  Just...break her heart and tell her Souta wanted nothing to do with her.

“...color me stoked!”  You grinned.

You were happy when she left.  With a heavy sigh, you buried your face in your hands and ignored the bell above your head.  You listened to the shuffling of your peers as they made their way towards the doors.

What the hell were you doing?  What the fuck did you just do?  Arisu had always been a good friend to you and you threw her under the bus?  For what?  Popularity?  Safety?  

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to those dogs.  They’ll eat that girl alive.”

You had grown used to most voices, labeling them by people who was more likely to hit you or simply ignore your presence entirely.  

But his voice? You had never heard that voice before.  It was pleasant in it’s own way - low, guttural, and deceptively indifferent to the advice he was giving you.  You sat up, turning to look over your shoulder.  Your eyes trailed up to stark white hair.  Bright blue eyes stared down at you, hands in his pockets.  Your breath caught in your chest and your mind scrambled for a response.  “I’m...I’m sorry, what?”

He watched you for a moment.  Sizing you up.  “Look,” He continued, “You clearly have a soul.  You just need to work a little harder to keep it clean.”  With a final shrug, he turned on his heel and made his way for the door. "We're all marked for evil."

Did...did he just...quote at you?  It took you a moment for your mind to catch up to what he said.  “Okay, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and walk away.  Excuse me?”

You scrambled to your feet.  He stopped and turned to look at you.  He didn’t move to say anything else however, leaving you in charge of continuing the conversation.  You looked him over, took in his long, lanky form, the mess of white hair, they...very pretty eyes.  You cleared your throat and motioned to him.  “I...uh...I didn’t catch your name.”

He waited a moment before shrugging.  “That’s cause I didn’t throw it.”

You watched him turn back around and make his way towards the door, mouth hanging down to your chest.  It didn’t take long for you to realize how hot your cheeks were burning, how fast your heart was racing. You couldn’t help as your lips broke out into a smile.

You swore he stole another gaze at you him slip out into the hall.

-- 

So yeah.  I’ll edit this later.  Promise.

How did everyone enjoy their holiday season?

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

You Gotta Fight... For Your Right...

TO PAAAAAAATAAAYYY

Stiles was about to take the three hundred year old tome, that Deaton told them to be extra cautious with, and lob it right at Derek's little furry werewolf balls.

"I don't see why this is such a big deal Stiles!" Derek's eyebrows twitched with annoyance.

Stiles gaped and threw his arms out. "Oh, of course. Of course you wouldn't see the importance of being invited to a super cool exclusive party. Not you mister I have sex in my really cool car with my hot ass leather jacket on and could probably seduce anyone living with an eyebrow raise! Sorry some of us are lame and need to pander at Danny's feet just to get laid!"

All of the earlier annoyance dropped from his face and a cold blank one appeared. "I wasn't aware that was the situation."

Stiles scoffed and started pacing as the pack shot each other unsure looks. "Well, yeah man. In case you're just tuning into the Stiles show, I'm undesired as hell! So, I am absolutely going to this party. Summer heat wave and unpredictable omega passing through be damned."

Stiles started to walk away like he got the last word, but Derek grabbed his arm. "You have to stay to protect the pack."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "What, you don't think you guys can handle one weak omega? Are you slipping? Unless you need protection from the heat, in which case you'll have to deal. No matter how useless you all think I am, I have more self respect than to fan you all with palm branches and bring you iced drinks in a toga." Stiles yanked his arm back and gave Derek a sharp look before storming towards the door.

Derek growled lowly at him.

Stiles turned back and sneered right in his face. "Oh you know what sourwolf, eat me! I barely ask you all for anything. And after months of nonstop threats, multiple abductions, and getting an accumulative five hours of sleep a week because of research I think I deserve a break! One party. Marcus's weekend long bashes have been legendary since freshman year and a year after school this is the first year I'm invited to it. I'm going! End of story. And you-" Stiles jabbed his finger into Derek's chest. "Can fucking deal, or find a new fragile human."

That shocked Derek enough that Stiles had enough time to storm away and slam the loft door. Even him cursing as the force nearly dislocated his shoulder didn't snap him out of it. Derek only slammed his palm into the wall once his Jeep door closed.

He turned and the pack all had shocked looks. He took a moment to calm down. "There's a rouge omega out there and he's thinking with his dick!"

Lydia hopped of the counter with a huff. "He'll be fine, Derek. He could handle one omega with his hands tied."

"What about stupidly drunk too fucking busy with some preppy asshole?!"

She shook her head. "He's resourceful and perceptive, so probably. If you're worried about him being drunk though, Marcus makes sure everyone is safe. You have to hand over keys and phones at the door. Marcus has someone to drive if someone wants to leave."

He raised a judgemental eyebrow at her. "Him not being able to contact us is supposed to make me feel better?"

Erica hopped into the conversation, "There's a landline. He'll call if he needs us. Chill. Unless there's another reason he shouldn't go to a party with a bunch of drunk, attractive, and popular people?"

Derek turned away, but could still see her smirk.

Lydia had to put the final nail in the coffin. "Besides, Danny will be there. He'll take care of him. Really well."

Derek closed his eyes so they wouldn't see the red glow reflect off the window he was staring out. "Fine. Leave. Pack meeting over. Stiles can do whatever the hell he wants."

Derek would never understand why they all seemed so enamored by him. The entire pack loved him. It made Derek's skin crawl. Even when the sheriff met him mid supernatural fight and Danny took a moment to introduce himself he immediately loved him. He exclaimed about how there was finally a teenager with manners. Derek couldn't figure out if it was the hawaiian charm or what, but everyone on God's green earth that met Danny Mahealani seemed to frickin adore him. And somehow Derek's rare disapproval got out. Mrs. Thurnbury took him aside in the supermarket and patted his arm and said, "That Danny boy is a good egg. He helped me with my groceries. Be a dear and don't murder him with your eyebrows of discontentment." She winked and left and all he could think was he helped her with her groceries first god damnit!

They started to trickle out.

Peter stood up. "Oh, nephew mine?"

Derek sighed.

"Would your objections have anything to do with the Mahealani boy rejecting your offer to join the pack? Or maybe the corrupting and subsequent poisoning of the token human's liver that you find fault with. Or maybe the pounding that Stiles could get fro-"

Derek's fangs joined his threatening growl.

"From that rouge omega. Only if it were to show up to that party. Small chance though, as we said." Peter smirked. "So nothing to worry about really."

"Get out before I show you out. The third story window."

Peter gave him a consoling look as he passed. "No need to get so worked up over the boys rejection. He simply wants to stay out of supernatural matters as much as possible. Besides, I think he's got all that he wants from this pack." He dropped his voice lower even though it was unnecessary. "I would suggest figuring out if you do before it is no longer available. Or rather, he isn't." Peter looked smug as he sauntered out.

Derek looked up with relief to see that only Scott was left in the loft. Scott sent him a consoling look. "Don't take it so hard dude. It's just a party."

Derek felt frustration bubbling up. "Exactly Scott. It's just a party. And he goes and acts like that." Derek shoved his hands towards the door he had slammed like he was still waiting behind it. "He challenged our decision and the advice of the pack over a stupid party."

Scott smiled. "I've known him since I was four, alphas or not it was not our decision. It was his."

"He could get hurt. We were worried and he did that!"

"Did what Derek?"

Derek roared back, "He said he'd leave the pack! He said it like it was nothing! He said it because of that boyslut that makes him think he's not good enough! I'll never get why he-"

"Why he what Derek, wants to have fun? Blow off some steam?" Scott nodded pointedly to Derek's clawed and balled fists.

Derek unclenched them, realizing how out of control he was getting.

Scott went over to the table to sit down and Derek followed.

"Why do you think Stiles became friends with Danny?"

Derek deadpanned, "To get laid."

Scott gave him a crooked grin. "Besides that?"

Derek shared none of his humor, but offered silence.

Scott was undeterred and used to it. "Because he's fun. Danny has this way of putting people at ease. Like no matter what, if you're with him, you're going to be alright. He's fun and easy."

Derek snorted and nodded.

"He shows people how to be carefree and enjoy themselves."

Derek grew irritated. "Why are you here then."

Scott looked sad. "Derek, why do you think Stiles became friends with Danny? I think it's because maybe he needs that. He needs fun and carefree. He needs blackout drunk and mistakes you won't remember in the morning. It's a way he can lose control without risking anyone's safety except his own. Dancing to music till it's light outside might still end with your muscles burning in the morning, but it comes with less trauma than running for your life in the woods." Scott looked devastated. "He just wants something fun Derek. My best friend just wants to be a normal teenager for a few nights. I think he just wants to remember what it's like to be okay. To be carefree. And I don't know about you Derek, but I can't find it in me to fault him for it. Not after everything he's been through."

Everything wiped off Derek's face except bare grief and guilt.

"Do I still worry about him getting home, and if he'll watch his drinks enough, and what if he's too drunk and someone is too insistent yes I do. But at the end of the day he deserves a break. From the craziness, the supernatural, the constant looking over his shoulder, the responsibility, the hurt, and yes ultimately also the pack. He's earned it. With all the research, the sleepless nights, the-"

Derek closed his eyes. "I know how much he's sacrificed for the pack. I'm sorry I didn't realize."

Scott shrugged. "I'm not the one you have to apologise to. But then again if I know him, you don't have to apologise to him either." The heaviness was gone from his face, just that lightness that Scott's unending hope brought. "Couldn't hurt though, right? He'll spend the weekend worrying about worrying you."

*** Derek had procrastinated until the very last moment. He knew Danny would pick him up soon, but Derek couldn't leave the Camaro and walk the last final blocks for some reason. He heard a car coming up the street and his eyes snapped to his mirror expecting to see Danny. He huffed and swung open the car door.

Derek opened the window silently and stepped in without a sound. He inched closer to Stiles' turned back.

He froze as Stiles started to speak out loud. "Should I pack an extra shirt sourwolf?"

Derek was silent.

Stiles turned. "No opinion?"

Derek softly mumbled, "It's always good to be prepared."

Stiles smirked. "Oh I bet you looked adorable with your eyebrows and sash asking old ladies if they needed help to get your community badge."

"What?" Derek asked confused.

"Don't worry, I won't ask Cora for pictures in your little uniform. Scout's honor. " He held up the Vulcan salute.

"Pack the extra shirt Stiles. And a sweatshirt. In case it's cold."

Stiles' face melted to a smile. "Aww it's almost like you care." He turned back to his bag. "But it is summer. Ya know, hot as balls out?"

"You get cold easily. A slight draft and you're shivering like you're naked."

"Considering the limited amount of activities I do while naked, I'm usually very hot when I'm naked."

Derek scoffed, but turned away from Stiles to keep from taking off his clothes in his mind to picture him with a slight heated blush like the one Derek had right then.

"I do hope you didn't come here to argue or try to stop me."

Derek shook his head, but then spoke, "No."

Stiles zipped his bag and turned. "Well, that clears everything up. Is it the omega?" He was still playful, but a hint of worry worked it's way in.

Derek turned quickly. "No. If we have to, we'll deal with that. I-I just came to wish you a good weekend." Derek attempt a small smile.

Stiles raised an eyebrow and put what was in his hands down. "Are you alright? Do you smell toast? What's that thing you're doing on your face? Do I need to call Deaton? I'm sure he's got like a magical milkbone that could fix whatever's wrong with your face."

Derek's face changed to a genuine smile and Stiles' eyes gleamed as the corners of his mouth also lifted.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles turned back away. Derek would take that as a bad sign, but he knew how well Stiles knew him. He knew Derek wasn't good with apologizing. He was giving him space. "It's okay sourwolf. I'm sorry too."

"For what?" Derek looked at the hands nervously folding and unfolding a flannel.

"You know what for. I should never have said that. I knew how it would effect you. You know I would always fight to be a part of the pack."

"And you know you would never have to. We know and appreciate how much you do. Even if we forget to show it."

Stiles turned back with earnestness in his eyes. "Thank you sourwolf. It means a lot."

Derek forced himself to look back into his wide brown eyes. "You mean a lot. To the pack. For all that you do."

"I would do anything, for the pack." His lips stretched into a lazy smile. "I have to finish packing." He made no effort to move away.

"I should head back." He hesitated slightly before heading to the window.

It was a few moments after Stiles heard him jump down, but he knew he would hear him. "Thank you Derek. Have a good weekend."

***

Derek was not having a good weekend.

He didn't even want to talk about yesterday and today wasn't going much better.

He sat on his couch reading a book and listening to music. After he flipped each page he'd check the time in his phone. Normally he'd be busy with something, but he had already made supper, did a long workout, and showered. Usually he enjoyed his down time, but it was too quiet. He flicked on the TV and turned his page just to turn it back to actually read what was on the page this time.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face after having to reread the first paragraph for the third time. He laid his head on the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling.

The door flung open and a loudly laughing Erica walked in and Derek had enough.

"Just for one night can I have some peace! You haven't let me focus all day! How can three people be so loud!"

He finally looked over and his harshness faded seeing their shocked faces and arms filled with bags.

Isaac meekly spoke, "Uh Derek, we've been at the mall all day."

Derek closed his eyes. He vaguely remembered being home alone all day. "Right. Sorry."

Erica recovered the fastest. "Okay grumpy pants what's got your tail in a twist?" She shoved the bags onto a chair and plopped down beside him.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Right. And yelling at three pups who have done absolutely nothing wrong all day qualifies as okay? Maybe a couple years back, but not now. Spill the kibble."

He raised an eyebrow back at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay moderately nothing wrong. Stop deflecting."

"The omega still isn't dealt with and S-"

"Stiles is at a party?" She looked amused.

"No. And Scott's approach of giving them the benefit of the doubt and allowing them to pass through isn't exactly comforting."

"Right, sure. I completely agree that is what's wrong with you." She got up. "Boyd, come and have a conversation with mister ignore the real problem till it goes away."

Isaac piped up, "He'll do it when he's ready guys."

He dutifully walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder from the other side of the couch. "Go and see if he's okay if that's what you have to do." He walked away.

Derek hated his betas some days. Erica because she was so smug, Boyd because he was so correct, and Isaac because he was so supportingly encouraging.

He mostly hated Erica though.

***

It was another twenty minutes and they had all settled in. Erica had put on new pjs and commendered the TV. Isaac had turned off his music and Boyd had asked him about his book and he just tossed it over. He couldn't even remember the title.

He heard them before they slid the door open and didn't bother to move. As soon as he saw their expression though, he stood quickly. "What happened?" His heart was thundering already.

"The sheriff found a body. He wants us to check it out. Before he rules it an animal attack." Scott gave him a concerned look.

Allison spoke up next from where she was linked to Scott's arm. "The sheriff will probably call you soon."

Derek calmed slightly. "Take them with you. You and Allison can check out the body, see if you can figure out what happened, then if you can find a trail. The betas will fan out from the crime scene and see if they can find anything else."

Scott nodded. "And what are you going to do?"

Derek's phone started to ring and he eagerly checked the screen. "If you were an out of control omega and were lost in the woods, what would you be attracted to?" He answered the call and headed to his room to get changed. "Hello sheriff."

Scott muttered mostly to himself. "The loud party in the middle of the preserve with a bunch of drunk people."

Scott and Allison waited for the three of them to get changed, but Derek was grabbing his jacket on the way out before they were ready.

Derek was reaching for the door when Scott put a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine. We'll call with any information."

*** Despite Scott's reassurance he broke every speed limit on the way there. He had been searching the mass of sweaty dancing bodies for several minutes, unable to make his way upstairs yet in case of what he might interrupt. The bright flashing lights were already making him nauseous.

He got a phone call and made a break for the kitchen. He still had trouble hearing the call over the booming music, but he managed to gleam that Allison identified the body as a hunter. One with a tentative understanding of the code at best. They figured the omega was being tracked by the hunter and it was self defense. Scott called the betas and asked them to check and make sure the omega was okay, but they were no longer looking at a bloodthirsty killer and just a scared omega.

He ended the call with some relief, till he realized he had no reason to be here anymore. No reason to take Stiles back.

He took a cup from the kitchen, and despite knowing it wouldn't do anything chugged it.

If he was here he might as well check in on Stiles and let him know what happened.

He shoved his way back into the main dancing area knowing that was the best place to find him. He was near a corner when someone approached him from the side and grabbed his arm. He tensed and turned ready to strike, but not obviously.

It was Danny and somehow that made him bristle further.

Danny shouted into his ear, "Are you looking for Stiles?"

Derek clenched his jaw and nodded.

"Is it serious?"

Derek shook his head.

Danny's face morphed to a flirtatious smile. "Then stay awhile." His hand started to tighten slightly around his bicep. "Wanna dance? Or not dance?" He looked towards a dark hallway that made Derek finally grateful to not be able to hear.

Derek yanked his arm back. "I don't know if Stiles would like that." He paired it with the most murderous brows he had.

Danny's eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't think you guys were-"

"We're not. You are."

Danny laughed. "Yeah, we messed around in the beginning. Now we both decided we're better as just friends."

Derek still remained cold. "I have to find Stiles."

"Are you sure, because he looks a little busy." Danny pointed to a spastic drunk yelling and surrounded by laughing preppy vultures. One particular asshole was practically stuck to Stiles' back as they writhed to the music. He was very handsy and Stiles didn't even seem to notice. Danny spoke again, but Derek didn't turn. "We could be busy too. I'll even let you keep up the bad boy gruff act, I like it a little rough big bad alpha."

At that Derek turned back and took threatening steps forward till Danny pressed himself against the wall with a smirk. Derek flashed his eyes and bared his fangs. Danny's smirk fell and fear flashed across his face. "It's not an act. Thanks for the offer." Derek stalked to the other side of the room careful to avoid catching Stiles' attention.

"Whooooo! Body shotssssss!" Stiles' missing shirt and already sticky collarbones told Derek this was probably not anyone's first shot. A girl with messy red hair started pouring liquor into the divots above Stiles' collarbone. The crowd around them started chanting the word shots. The redhead moved to one side and handsy asshole moved to the other. As soon as they started to lick out the alcohol the crowd cheered. They both started to kiss up the sides of Stiles' neck and as Stiles relaxed his shoulders a few droplets rained down just like the blood from Derek's palms. They were clenched so hard his claws dug into them as he watched the two strangers lay claim to Stiles' neck.

Handsy asshole started to move down Stiles' body to a stray drop that was making its way towards Stiles' nipple. Derek was across the room before he even realized it.

Stiles' look of enjoyment and pure glee faded to one of confusion. "Derek? What are you doing here?"

Stiles pushed both people back to allow them room to talk and put his shirt back on. Derek instantly shoved into the space handsy asshole had previously filled. "I have to talk to you."

Stiles sobered. "Is it about the pack?"

Derek looked at those around them and handsy asshole trying to worm his way back over. "Not here."

Derek looked down and saw Stiles intertwining their hands. "We went through the crowd to get a beer three hours ago and I haven't seen Danny since. You can hold my hand for like two minutes sourwolf."

Derek nodded and just as they turned to leave handsy asshole grabbed Stiles' other arm. "Heyyyy where ya goin? We're havin fuuuun."

"I'll be back." Derek couldn't help narrowing his eyes at those words.

"What iv I wanna nother shot?" He threw in a look that supposedly was seductive. Derek thought it looked like he was taking a shit while looking directly at the sun.

Stiles let go of Derek's hand. He smiled at the man and kissed him. The man was so enthusiastic and fond of ass groping Derek looked away in disgust. "Then find Hannah till I get back."

Stiles grabbed Derek's hand again and started to pull away, but the man nearly yanked him out of Derek's grip. "But I want you Mickyyyy!"

Derek pulled Stiles behind himself and growled right in his face, "That is NOT his name!"

The man just scoffed and looked towards Stiles. "This your boytoy Micky? Hes rude, and wrong." His voice went to a stage whisper. "He doesn't even know your real name. How imporant can he be? Staaayyy!"

Derek turned with a sharp look towards Stiles. "You told him your name?! Him!?"

Stiles looked to be searching the air around him. "To be fair I got here around ten and they greeted me at the door with three shots of vodka. I don't remember the hours between twelve and two yesterday. If someone asked I probably would've told them my social security number. Today is strictly beer and a slight buzz day."

Derek held firmly to Stiles' hand as they moved away and handsy asshole started to object, "You said you'd blow me upstairs you shit!"

Derek put his hand flat on the front of his face and shoved him back with enough force that the high top table they had been using as a bar wobbled and the glass bottles on it clinked together when he made contact. Derek growled threateningly and flashed his eyes and teeth.

Derek got a small amount of pleasure from the scent of fear coming off the man. He was yanked towards the stairs by a hand that was gripping his tightly. Stiles finally found an empty room and shoved both of them in it. "What, the absolute hell, was that!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Oh I'm sorry for taking offense for you, since you obviously didn't care."

"Of course I care! And of course what he said was totally gross, but he was drunk! What's your excuse for wolfing out like that huh!?"

Derek looked away. "Damn it Stiles! He shouldn't have treated you like you were just a fuck!" Derek once again flashed his eyes and snapped his fangs, but Stiles just growled back and snapped his human teeth back at him.

Stiles huffed out a short laugh. "That's kinda the point Derek."

Derek turned to him with squinted eyes.

"Here I want to be just a fuck. I want to be dancing in the lights and have someone desire me. Maybe I want to feel like, no matter anything else, someone wants me."

Derek objected, "You have people that want you. You don't have to do this, the pack-"

Stiles shook his head and interrupted while pacing away from him, "Not like that and you know it. I don't care if all he wants from me is a fuck. That's all I want from him, so it'd be pretty hypocritical of me. Why should you care?"

Derek gave him judgemental eyebrows. "Well sorry for hoping you had self respect. Next time I won't get in the way of you getting dick."

Stiles went stock still and turned towards him with rage in his eyes. "Derek. Are you slut shaming me right now?!"

"Well if th-"

Stiles steamrolled right over him. "Because I don't give a god damn fuck who you think you are, you do not get to tell me what I do with my body! My relationships are my business! Who or how many I have sex with is my business! And alpha or not you don't get to make those choices for me! Because last time I checked you're not my fucking boyfriend! Last time I checked you hardly ever pretend to even like me! So back the fuck off and learn what place you have in my life before you lose it!" Stiles was fuming and yelling right in his face by the end of it.

All of his need to argue flooded out of him and Derek put his hands up. He tried to put his hand on Stiles' arm, but he pulled away and stalked to the other side of the room with his arms crossed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you were a slut."

Stiles squinted at him with malice.

"Okay, maybe I implied you were a slut, but I was mad and didn't mean it. I am sorry. I am pro slut power. Seriously, I raised my eyebrow at Laura sneaking back in come morning time and she yelled at me for two hours. Then she made me wear a shirt that said slut power for a week."

Stiles snorted and sat on the bed. Derek slowly approached and sat beside him. "You're pack. I want you to have someone that cares about you, but if that's not what you want I have to respect that and I'm sorry I didn't. I'll stop trying to stop you from going out with Danny."

Stiles nodded and was quiet for a moment.

"Derek? Why do you hate Danny?"

"Well Stiles, I believe you yourself said it was because of my complete lack of ability and hatred for doing anything fun."

"Be serious."

"Maybe for the way he makes you feel. Like you aren't good enough and you should be grateful just to fall at his feet."

Stiles hummed. "I don't think that's Danny. I do it with you too, I do it with everyone. I think that's just my own insecurities that I need to work on. I need to stop comparing myself to others. It's just hard you know? I'm a human in a pack of werewolves and badasses, it's hard not to feel inadequate. My best friend is a true alpha, and two of the people I have in my life are Danny Hawaiian god Mahealani and Derek Greek god Hale, so there's my self image shot." Stiles played it off with a laugh, but Derek frowned.

"Stiles. You aren't a human in a pack of werewolves and badasses. You're one of the badasses. I have seen you bash in a werewolves skull with a wolfsbane laced baseball bat. I mean sure you did throw up after..."

Stiles knocked their shoulders together with a chuckle.

"But it was badass. And about the god thing. I think you're-" Derek started to hesitate. His resolve firmed. "If anyone is a Greek god it's you. They say Aphrodite appeared both male and female."

Stiles gaped at him and Derek looked away.

"You couldn't be more wrong! I'm totally-"

Derek's embarassment turned to determination at Stiles' persistent doubt. "No. You really are-"

"Athena." Stiles insisted.

"Beautiful." Derek muttered breathlessly.

"Oh." Stiles cheeks colored.

Derek tried to deflect. "What were we even taking about?"

"Why you really don't like Danny."

"I don't want to talk about that."

Stiles squinted. "Implying that we didn't already, and that there's a different reason."

"No."

Stiles was silent still and Derek sighed. "I don't know. I think I just do for the way he exists."

Stiles snorted. "Harsh dude."

"Don't call me dude. And I just mean everything he does just seems so easy. He exists like it isn't hard, like he wakes up everyday knowing everything will be okay." Derek considered for a second. "He's like Scott like that."

Stiles shook his head. "No. Scott doesn't wake up every morning knowing it's going to be okay. He hopes it will be. Scott has seen and knows bad things can and will happen, he just eternally hopes they don't."

Derek nodded. "Yeah I guess so. And with Danny I think he's just never had anything touch him. He had a popular best friend, he was popular, attractive, likeable, good family, he gets nice things. He just goes through life like it's the easiest thing and nothing is hard. He lives like it's easy."

Stiles put his hand on top of Derek's. "And you envy that. So do I. I think that's what attracted me to him. We're both so used to having to fight so fucking hard just to have one good thing, and he just seems like that's all he has." Stiles laughed. "You know how we ended up kissing for the first time?"

Derek's hand twitched under Stiles. "How?"

"I was looking into his eyes and I just blurted out how much I wanted to kiss him. And he just looked at me, smiled, and then kissed me like that was the only logical thing to do. Like it was that easy. But Derek, sometimes it is just that easy. Sometimes we get a nice thing if we just tell ourselves there is more to life than pain and we deserve it. We deserve to go to parties and kiss people that we won't remember in the morning. We deserve to love people and be loved by people. Just because we can handle pain doesn't mean that is all we deserve." Derek turned to him and Stiles looked right into his eyes. "We can have easy and happy things too."

Derek's eyes started to go a bit shiny and he felt the urge to pull away, but he didn't. Stiles smiled at him and Derek's eyes tracked the stretch of his lips and before he could think of all the ways it was supposed to be difficult, he just leaned forward and kissed him.

There were a terrifying few seconds that Stiles didn't respond, but then Stiles' hands went into his hair and Derek tasted beer and something sweet. Derek put his arms around him and fisted his hands into the material on Stiles' sides. Derek started to think that maybe he could get a buzz from just kissing the beer off Stiles' lips when he moved one hand down to get under Stiles' shirt.

Stiles went still and pulled back with wide eyes. Derek instantly felt a pit in his stomach.

"Why did you do that? Oh God, why did we do that! Fuck Derek this isn't what I meant!" Stiles pushed his arms away from his sides and sprang up from the bed.

Derek felt like the action ripped a piece of him out. "I- I'm sorry. You are drunk and I shouldn't have done that anyway. I just-"

"I am not drunk. My decision making skills are quite intact, and- and I kissed you back. So I did it too. Even though it was a bad idea, I did it anyway. It's okay though."

Derek shook his head and got up and quickly started towards the door. "No it's not."

Stiles eyes went wide and he moved after him. "No. Please. Please Derek! It has to be okay! We have to be okay! Fuck I didn't mean- I didn't mean for this to happen!"

Stiles tried to catch him, but he moved out of the room and made it through the downstairs quick enough he was backing out of the driveway by the time Stiles got to the front door.

***

Derek got home and woke Isaac back up just to lead him to Boyd and Erica's room. He flopped down in the middle of their bed and soon enough they were all curled around him.

"You smell like a frat house and you're still wearing your jeans." Erica said irritably.

"I don't think Stiles and I will ever be friends again and I'd like to sleep so I don't have to think about it."

In the small amount of light she could see her face contort with sympathy before moving to annoyance. "You two are idiots."

"I'll be an idiot in the morning. Now I'm just hurt, and I need you."

Erica smiled softly at him. "I'm so proud of how far you've come. We've always been here for you-" She snuggled into his chest more. "Now I'm just glad you know it."

*** After a summary of the night before Erica once again declared him an idiot, but at least this time it was over breakfast and coffee.

They all moped with him all morning before heading out for some mystery errand. As soon as he heard Roscoe clunking closer he cursed out his betas and gathered some things before he sat on the couch to await his doom.

Stiles nervously paced outside his door for several minutes before cursing and speaking to the hallway, "You can hear me can't you?"

Derek set his mug down. "Come in."

The door swung open and Stiles walked in with wild hair. Like he had been running his fingers through it nonstop. A small part of Derek wished that he'd used the time he had to run his fingers through his hair. Just so he knew what it was like at least once. "I figured you'd want that." He nodded to the mug and pills on the coffee table.

"You are a god amongst men Derek."

Derek smiled, but then it turned bitter. "And I thought you said you didn't drink that much last night."

Stiles looked sheepish as he downed some coffee with the pills. "I hadn't. Not until you left. After that I probably drank half a kegs worth of alcohol. Definitely feeling it this morning though." He let out a weak chuckle.

Derek spoke softly. "Why are you here Stiles?"

Stiles sat down lightly on the couch. "I didn't like how we left it last night."

"Neither did I."

"Look, I didn't mean to give you the impression that that's what I wanted. Because I don't."

Derek tried to not break at that.

He really did try.

"I don't want to have you be a fuck. I don't think I could do that with you."

Derek smiled as genuinely as he could. "It's okay Stiles." He said it even though Stiles kissing him while he thought it was a happy thing they both deserved and Stiles thought it would just be a fuck did not make him feel okay.

"I'm sorry that you wanted that and that I gave the impression that I also wanted you to just be a fuck."

Derek's eyebrows went up marginally as he said that, but he quickly schooled his expression. Maybe they could salvage their relationship if Stiles thought Derek had just wanted sex.

Unfortunately, Stiles' face filled with shock. "Unless you thought it was more than a fuck."

Derek got up from the couch and turned away. Stiles quickly scrambled up as well. "Derek! I-"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does."

Derek shook his head and continued staring away. "It doesn't. Not if I want to be your friend."

"It does. If you want to be more." Stiles pulled on his arm till he turned to face him.

Derek's face looked openly hurt and broken. "It doesn't matter what I want because you don't want me. Stiles we don't get easy." Derek's hand started to lift, but it hesitated infront of Stiles' face. "We don't get happy." He smiled as his eyes held pain.

Stiles grabbed his hand before it could fall and pulled it to his face and Derek's hand instantly cradled it. "It's not that I don't want anything from you, it's that I want everything. I wasn't going to say yes last night not knowing that in the morning we would still be happy. And yes. We do get happy. And you know why sourwolf?" Stiles pulled him into a statement making kiss. He pulled back a little breathless. "Because we deserve it."

Derek looked at him confused and his hand dropped. Stiles rolled his eyes. "I don't want to just have sex with you. I want to be and make happy with you. It might not be easy though, but I'm okay with that if you are."

"Are you still drunk?"

Stiles pinched him.

"Ow! Okay I had to make sure."

"You jerk! I just asked you to be my boyfriend, the least you could do is say yes!"

Derek grinned wide. "Fine if I must."

Stiles matched his smile. "You're such an ass."

"Like you aren't annoying too."

"But now you're stuck with me." Stiles stuck out his tongue. "No take backsies."

"Nuh-uh. I'm yours, but you're not mine yet. I haven't asked yet."

Derek just stared at him till he scoffed. "Before I'm dead sourwolf."

Derek's eyes just filled with mirth and a gleam. His hand once again found the side of Stiles' face. His amusement died down and genuineness and love filled it instead. "Mieczysław Stiles Stilinski will you do me the honor of dating me?"

The perfect pronunciation had a lump forming in his throat and tears forming in his eyes. "God when did you even practice that." His voice was choked up as Stiles thought of him practicing his real name over and over till he could say it properly. "And that was so stuffy and proper. Like God what's next are you going to ask my dad if you can court me. Really it's just-"

Derek kissed him sweetly. "I believe the standard response is yes or no."

"We're difficult, remember?" Stiles laid their foreheads against each other.

"Still not an answer." Derek nudged their noses together.

"Do you really need one?" Stiles looked at him with clear love and adoration.

"Do you really not want to give one?" Derek asked smugly.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and held out for ten seconds. "Yes. God yes. I want to have your little sourwolfie babies. I've been in love with you since you slammed me into my wall. Or maybe since I saw your car, or your jacket, or your ass, or your face, or-"

Derek cut him off again. Stiles pulled back blissfully. "Or maybe the moment you did that."

"And I fall in love with you every time you open your mouth, and somehow even more when you shut it."

Stiles pushed him away. "Rude!"

Derek smirked then started to study his face. "I won't mind if you still go to parties with Danny."

Stiles squinted. "Thanks, but I'm sure I'm a one sourwolf kinda man."

Derek's eyebrows looked flat. "No, not for that reason. Just, if you want to go have some fun. To blow off some steam and forget other things, I trust you. I know you would never do that. If you need a break to chill out, I get it."

Stiles smiled softly. "Thanks, but I'm good."

"Stiles yo-"

"Derek do you know the reason why I would go to the parties? Other than to get laid."

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "To have fun. And to be happy while being safe from the supernatural."

Stiles shook his head. "No. I went to forget that I wasn't. I wasn't happy at any of those parties because I was alone. And I wasn't safe there because I was alone. I just didn't have to care there. But here with the pack on movie night? I'm actually happy. Here with you I'm happy. The only thing that made me unhappy was that as soon as I left I felt like I was alone because I didn't have the relationship I wanted with you. Here with you I am and feel safe.   There's a difference between being happy and feeling safe and just forgetting that you aren't. You make me actually feel those things."

"I'm notoriously no fun though, I guess you can't have everything."

"Oh I don't know, you can be fun. Sometimes. On occasion."

"Once in a blue moon one could say."

Stiles laughed. "Very rarely."

***

"Stiles come on, the party is inside." Derek pulled his fiance off the picnic table.

"I know, I know. It's just..." Stiles looked at the front of the restored Hale house, and Derek hugged him from behind. "This is my favorite view."

Derek took in the awe and pride in his eyes. "Mine too."

Stiles looked into the eyes already on him and rolled his own. "Could you be anymore sappy and cliche."

"We've got the rest of our lives to figure it out."

Stiles groaned. "Ugggh make it stop." Stiles dragged him towards where their pack was celebrating at the party inside.

Right when they got to the front door Derek pulled him back and into a kiss. "I'm so happy we're here together."

Stiles hugged him tightly. "Me too sourwolf, me too." He pulled back and looked into Derek's teary eyes. "Hey, hey. We deserve this Derek. We do."

Stiles opened their door to a laughing and happy pack celebration.

Of all the parties he's been too, staring into the eyes of the man he loves, Stiles decided this was by far the best one.

A.N. Well I read through this once and did absolutely no editing because these last few weeks can eat me so here's this shit. Dldr. Much love💜💜💜

                                             Carter😊

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Unideal Circumstances

AO3, LoganLight

Marinette manages to sign the love poem she wrote for Adrien.

But it doesn't turn out the way she expects.

"Can you believe all the horrible, thoughtless things you said to Ladybug!" Plagg laughed before swallowing his Camembert.

"You think it's funny, huh?" Adrien groaned, letting himself fall face-first onto his bed.

"What's the big deal? You've got so many cards from all these lady fans of yours, take your pick!" So saying, Plagg rifled through the pile of valentines. Grabbing a heart shaped card he threw it towards his holder.

Fluttering gently beside Adrien, he opened it. Eyes widening in surprise Adrien sat upright quickly. "Whoa, hold up. Someone answered my poem? But I threw it away!"

"Your hair shines like the sun, your eyes are gorgeous green.

I look at you and wonder your innermost thoughts and dreams.

Yes, your valentine I will be. Our love will be so true.

Together for eternity, my heart belongs to you."

A gasp escaped him as Adrien finished reading.

Plagg sighed in slight annoyance. "Well, anyone who writes as sickeningly sweet as you must be your soulmate."

"It's signed... Marinette!?" It was like a jolt of electricity shot through Adrien. The pleasant feelings elicited from reading her poem mixed confusingly in his gut with... something else.

"The baker girl?" Plagg thought she acted weirder than human adolescents usually did but he couldn't put his paw on why. Until just now. "Well, there you go. You can just date her and-"

"I can't date Marinette!" Adrien cried out. His hands went to his hair as he started pacing. The adrenaline coursing through him demanding that he do something.

"Why not? She obviously likes you and it's not like you're not available." Plagg pointed out.

"I'm in love with Ladybug!" Adrien could feel his heartbeat speeding up in a familiar and unwelcome manner.

Plagg snickered. "And how's that working out for you?"

Adrien shot a half-hearted glare at his kwami. He knew it was Plagg's nature to be contrary and that romance was a genuine mystery to the little being (even more than it was to Adrien). But sometimes Adrien wished he could talk to someone who didn't encourage a cheese centric hedonistic lifestyle.

... Wait. Adrien rushed for his phone, the act of searching for it calming him somewhat.

"What're you doing?"

"Aha!" Adrien pressed the only number in his favorites and held it to his ear. "Calling Nino."

"Hey, dude!"

"Nino!" Relief rushed through Adrien as his best friend answered immediately. "I need your help!"

"Whoa, what's wrong bro?" The joy in Nino's voice fading to concern.

"I-" The words stuck in Adrien's throat as his thoughts caught up to his emotions. He dropped onto his bed. "Marinette gave me a valentine..."

"Wait, really? That's great dude!"

His heart tried to jump out of his chest at Nino's enthusiasm. "No, it's not!" Adrien's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "It means I'm going to have to give her an answer tomorrow!"

"Uh, yeah? That's how it works? She tells you how she feels and you do the same. Then you date and..." Nino's voice slowed as a thought came into his head. Alya said Marinette was always thinking about the worst case scenario. But he never seriously considered it. "Adrien? Are you... going to reject Mari?"

"..."

Nino felt the last of his excitement shift to growing unease. "But... I mean... The dudette's awesome, right? You could, I dunno, give her a chance?"

"... I'm not in love with her, Nino..." Adrien's voice was a whisper.

"That-" Nino swallowed. "Okay. Okay, so what're you gonna say to her?"

Adrien looked to Plagg, possibly hoping for some deeply buried wisdom to come out just when he needed it. Plagg shrugged, he still didn't seem to understand but he didn't tease Adrien further. Taking a deep breath Adrien made the only reply he could. "The truth."

 

 

"A-Adrien! Morning good! I-I mean, good morning!" Marinette groaned at her slip-up but resisted the urge to hide behind Alya.

"Hi, Marinette." Adrien rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to smile naturally. Not quite successfully. "Um, can we talk?" His eyes flickered to Alya.

"Don't mind me! I'll just catch up with Nino." Alya gave a discreet thumbs up to Marinette before making her way towards her boyfriend.

Adrien felt a pang of guilt as Marinette's too large smile softened.

"S-so! What d-did you want to talk about?" Marinette knew it was probably her valentine but she didn't remember if she signed it and wasn't going to bring it up first. Still, the expectation had her heart soaring.

Adrien licked his dry lips, eyes downcast. "Marinette, your an incredible girl and... I don't want to play around with your feelings. It'd be the same as lying to you. I don't want to do that. You... Your friendship means too much to me. I... I'm sorry but I don't feel the same."

As Adrien continued Marinette felt her stomach drop. Her brief, fleeting hope now a cold, empty space instead. "But... why do you think it'd be lying?"

Biting his lip, Adrien hesitated. "Because... Because there's someone else."

Marinette's eyes widened as her breath left her. "Who... Who is it?" she asked mechanically.

Adrien's hand went from his neck to his other arm, shoulders hunching. "I can't tell you."

The cold place within her seemed to spread its frost around her heart, every beat painful to endure. "I-I see." Marinette swallowed the lump in her throat. "W-well, um, thanks f-for telling me. I guess..." Turning, Marinette started walking away.

Instinctively, Adrien's arm reached out to her,  mouth opening to call out Marinette's name. He wanted to apologize, to make it better, make sure she was okay. Make sure they were okay.

But he didn't have the words.

So, his arm fell to his side as she made her way to her best friend. Alya's glare and Nino hiding guiltily under his cap told Adrien she already knew.

Her discontent was an added burden on Adrien's shoulders. Even as the heat of Alya's stare softened as she pulled Marinette into a hug.

Nino walked up to Adrien and patted him on the shoulder. Taking his arm and steering him away from the girls.

"I messed up, Nino." Adrien gazed dejectedly at the floor.

"Nah, bro." Nino wrapped his arm around Adrien's shoulders. "You did the right thing."

"... Didn't you want me to ask her out?"

"I thought Mari would make you happy," Nino admitted. "But you told her the truth. Better that than a lie."

Intellectually, Adrien knew Nino was right and he held on to that knowledge. But it didn't make him feel better.

Alya showed up in homeroom just before the bell rang... Without Marinette. Ignoring Adrien's gaze she walked to her seat.

"... Alya-"

"Don't," she snapped and Adrien shrank back. Eyes softening, Alya replied in a gentler tone. "Just... don't okay? She needs time. She just needs time."

Adrien nodded and faced forward as class started. Marinette didn't show up that day.

 

 

On a secluded rooftop a crying Ladybug purified an akuma. Her heart may be broken but it was still hers. Her pain, not his. And Papillon would not have it.

Marinette stayed transformed despite her desire to hear Tikki's voice. Yo-yo at the ready. 

But Papillon sent no more akuma.

 

 

Adrien crashed face-first onto his bed. He was so tired.

Plagg glanced at his Camembert before zooming close to Adrien's head. "Kid, if it bothers you so much why not give dating the baker girl a shot?"

Groaning, Adrien pushed his face deeper into the bed. He was so tired of answering that question. Or rather, ones like it.

During lunch his classmates wondered where Marinette was since they remembered seeing her in the courtyard. And Max, intelligent, helpful, oblivious Max pointed out it was the day after Valentine's. Suddenly, Adrien was the center of attention because apparently Marinette's crush was obvious to everyone except him.

With everyone being even more incredulous of Adrien not wanting to date Marinette than Nino was.

"Because," Adrien turned his head to level a look at Plagg. "I'm in love with someone else."

Plagg sighed and Adrien thought it sounded slightly less exasperated than usual. "Yeah, I know." Swooping for his cheese, Plagg offered it to Adrien. "Camembert? Nothing is better at taking your mind off your problems!"

Despite himself Adrien smiled softly at the gesture. "No, thanks."

Shrugging, Plagg swallowed it in one bite.

Letting out a sigh of his own Adrien flopped over and stared at the ceiling. "What am I gonna do about Marinette?" he asked no-one in particular.

"Eh, nothing you can do, is there?" Plagg grabbed the valentine that caused his holder so much worry and threw it with the others. He knew Adrien wouldn't, the kid was too sensitive about it. "It's like the blogger said, it just takes time."

Adrien wouldn't say that comforted him exactly. But it reinforced the knowledge that he'd done everything he could. "Thanks, Plagg... Do you think we'll still be friends after this?"

"I don't know much about human girls. But I don't see why not." Satisfied with himself Plagg went back to his cheese.

"Yeah..."

Adrien decided to call Nino once his thoughts were a bit more sorted. He was still new to this whole 'having friends' thing and they didn't really get a chance to talk after class. Adrien could really use his friend right now.

Since he might have lost more than one.

[atths--twice]

Bare Essentials

Last March, the discussion on Thursday during #tbtXFiles turned to why Mulder looked “un-Mulderish,” in Signs and Wonders, and lost luggage was mentioned, I became intrigued. I had never noticed his clothes, I don’t think. This is not an episode I generally put on, so I was taken aback. After it was mentioned, it was ALL I saw. So, thanks to a friend for piquing my interest, it brought about this story. Hope you enjoy it. 

Arriving in Blessing, Tennessee, Mulder and Scully discover their bags have not arrived with them.

Blessing, Tennessee 9:30 a.m. Tuesday

The tiny airport was hot and crowded, causing Mulder to unbutton the two top buttons on his shirt, hoping to find some relief. He could feel sweat on his neck and back, as he watched the luggage carousel, waiting for their bags.

Scully walked up, fanning her coat around her. “Jesus, it’s hot in here,” she said, looking at him, her small carry-on bag in one hand. He nodded still keeping an eye on the carousel.

“It’s insane that it’s this warm in here, the heater has to be broken. I doubt it’s that cold outside." He fanned his shirt, the open buttons not offering much relief.

“Well, we’ll find out as soon as our bags get here and we can get the car,” she said, glancing at her watch. “We should head straight over to the church.” He nodded again, frowning as he realized the baggage carousel was now empty. Bags were no longer coming and he heaved a sigh.

Great, just great, he thought. Scully looked at him and raised her eyebrows. He shook his head and headed to the baggage claim office.

A half an hour later, forms were filled out, and a heated discussion had been had about the heat of the airport. Mulder caught up to Scully, and they walked toward the rental lot. Scully had filled out the paperwork and gotten the keys, while he dealt with their lost bags. They would try to deliver them as soon as possible. But first, they needed to figure out where they were exactly.

“Where they are exactly, Scully,” he said, as they walked to the car. “How is it that they don’t know where our bags are “exactly” but everyone else’s arrived here with no problems? We all left from the same place, on the same flight.” She put her carry-on in the trunk, and they both got in the car. He turned on the ignition, shaking his head as he looked over at her.

She scrunched up her chin, something he found so goddamn adorable and shook her head. “I don’t know, but hopefully they’ll find them and bring them by later tonight. Let’s get to the church,” she said, gesturing for him to drive.

“I can’t go like this, Scully,” he said pointing at his clothes. He was wearing dark jeans and a long sleeved polo shirt. “I was going to change once we stopped by the motel, but now I don’t have my luggage.”

“Then you will have to go like that,” she said, looking at him in exasperation.

“No, we can find a store and I’ll pick something up. Not a suit, but something better than this,” he said, backing up the car and heading out. She hummed her annoyance, and he scoffed.

“If you had dressed accordingly,” she said, under her breath, shaking her head and looking out her window.

“I told you all my dress shirts were at the cleaners, and it was a mad dash to even get there before we left. I had no other options,” he said, watching for when it would be safe to merge onto the highway.

“Mulder, how long have we been doing this? Seven years? Why do you leave everything until the last minute?” she asked, with a glance his way. “You tell me we’re leaving, and I have a wardrobe already packed in my head, business suits ready to go at all times.”

“If we all were as prepared as you, who would be the dreamers? The artists who walk around with paint in their hair or on their hands because other aspects of life are more important?” he volleyed back at her. “We can’t all be Dana Scullys.” He glanced at her and saw she was trying not to smile.

“You all can try,” she said in a sassy tone, giving in and giving him a beautiful smile. His heart pounded, and his mouth went dry, causing him to clear his throat. She turned and looked out the window again, and it was quiet in the car.

Just before the exit for the church, he left the highway, looking for a place to buy some new clothes. A store came into view, and he pulled into the parking lot. Scully looked at him, and he shrugged. They both got out of the car and walked inside.

Scully looked at him, the store not quite the type of clothing they usually purchased. She walked away from him towards the women’s section, and he headed to the men’s.

Not wanting to spend too much time in the store, he quickly found his size and grabbed a shirt- a long sleeved button down grayish patterned shirt. It was not something he usually would be drawn to, being rather an ugly color and print, but it would work.

Pants were next- a pair of dark slacks, and also a belt. He caught Scully’s eye and jerked his head toward the dressing room. She nodded and walked toward him, as he stepped behind the curtain to try on the clothes. He could hear her breathing on the other side, and he flushed at the thought that a mere piece of fabric separated them as he undressed.

“Mulder?” she asked, her tone reminding him they were on a timetable.

“Yeah, I know. These are good, I’ll get them,” he said, slipping on his shoes and tying them. “I’ll wear them out from here.”

“Hand me the tags and I’ll pay for them,” she said, reaching her hand inside the curtain. He smiled, pulling them from the clothes and placing them in her hand. Her hand left, and he picked up his other clothes.

He tucked in his shirt, fastened his belt, and opened the curtain. Seeing Scully at the register, he walked over to her. She looked him up and down and scrunched her chin again before turning back to the store clerk.

“I grabbed you a jacket too,” she said, handing over her credit card. “It is cold out, despite how hot it was at the airport. They didn’t have your size exactly, and there are no ties, but at least you will look better than how you did earlier.” She glanced at him, and he nodded his thanks.

His own clothes were put in a large store bag, along with what she had purchased for herself, though he did not see what she bought. Putting the new grey coat over his arm, he put his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the store.

_________________________________

The Heartbreak Motel, 12:30 a.m. Wednesday morning

Pulling up to the motel, as it bordered on one in the morning, he sighed, his body completely exhausted. He glanced at Scully, seeing her worrying her lips as she sat beside him. When he turned off the car, it broke her from her thoughts, causing her to look at him and unbuckle her seat belt.

“I’ll go get our rooms,” he said, putting his hand on hers, stopping her from getting out just yet. She nodded and sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest.

He got out and spoke to the motel clerk, getting them adjoining rooms. Two keys with glittery guitar key chains were handed to him. The man shrugged and Mulder nodded, holding them as he walked out the door.

He drove closer to their rooms, and they both got out. Handing her her key, he grabbed her carry-on and the store bag out of the trunk, following her into her room. He set the bag down, and she began to go through it. She took out a pack of underwear, a couple of pairs of dress socks, and a pack of undershirts. The barest of essentials, and something he had completely overlooked.

She handed them over to him with a raised eyebrow. He grinned at her and took them, his thoughts and feelings mixed. He was happy at her thoughtfulness and also felt that familiar feeling of desire for her. She had picked out underwear for him.

God, he loved her.

He nodded at her and made to leave the room. “You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically. He turned around and smiled at her.

“Thank you kindly, Miss Scully,” he said in an overly put upon Southern accent. She rolled her eyes and walked forward to close the door when he left.

He went into his own room and set all his things on his bed. His jacket was taken off and thrown on the chair, his clothes and shoes following, as he went into the bathroom and started the shower.

He showered and came into the room in a towel. Ripping open the packages, he took out a shirt and a pair of underwear. Dressed, he picked up and then hung his clothes, obviously needing to wear them again tomorrow, unless the bags miraculously showed up in the middle of the night.

A knock sounded at the adjoining door, and he unlocked it, finding Scully, her hair still damp from her own shower. He tried not to stare, but she was so cute standing there in a pair of un-Scully like pajamas. Cotton, long sleeved, and lilac. They were tighter and clingier than usual. Try as he might, he could not avoid noticing her hard nipples.

“Here,” she said, thankfully interrupting his thoughts and redirecting his eyes. She handed him a new packaged toothbrush and he raised his eyebrows at her. “From my carry-on. After they lost our luggage that time in Boise, I’ve made sure to at least have the essentials: my makeup bag and toiletries.”

“Good thinking. Maybe I should start doing that too,” he said, opening the toothbrush.

“Maybe?” she said with a look.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said with a grin. He stuck the toothbrush in his mouth and she winced. “What? Gotta do what I can without toothpaste.”

“You think I would pack toothbrushes and not pack toothpaste? What’s the point of that, Mulder?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Oh. Well, can you hand it to me?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“I am not giving you the toothpaste. I will let you use it, but it stays with me,” she stated, both eyebrows raised high.

“What?”

“Yeah, Mr. Squeezes-It-From-The-Middle, the toothpaste stays with me,” she said cheekily. “I’m not having a repeat fiasco of The Falls.” He stared at her, but took the toothbrush from his mouth and presented it to her.

She uncapped the toothpaste, squeezed it tightly from the bottom, and loaded up his toothbrush. Replacing the cap, she smirked at him, making a show of the flatness of the tube of toothpaste. He nodded, looking at his toothbrush.

“You know, sometimes squeezing things in the middle is the best option. Lightly or with more force, depending on the situation,” he said, watching her eyes as he spoke. They moved across his face and landed on his lips. He had to fight the urge to run his tongue across them, wanting to see how that would affect her.

“Well, there’s also something to be said about following the rules,” she said, crossing her arms and looking in his eyes. “Even if you really do want to break them.” He held his breath, not daring to imagine she actually meant what she did. Christ, he was suddenly very hot. Were they still talking about toothpaste?

“Good night, Mulder,” she said, starting to close her door. “Come see me in the morning when you need more … toothpaste.” She looked at him once more, before closing the door all the way.

Oh, sweet Jesus. How did she do that? How did a conversation about toothpaste arouse him so much? He stood at the door, wanting it to open, to hear her say she needed more, and not be talking about toothpaste. Shaking his head, he forced himself to step back from the door and go into the bathroom and brush his teeth.

He laid down in bed a few minutes later with his mind buzzing and the taste of mint in his mouth. He turned over and punched his pillow trying not to think of how lilac had looked beautiful on her and how deliciously minty she would taste if he went into her room and kissed her.

_____________________________

The Heartbreak Motel 12:45 a.m. Thursday morning

God, he thought as he came back to the motel room, what a day. He took off the clothes he had been wearing for the second time, never wanting to see them again. He knew they smelled, even without getting his nose close to them. He had no idea what he was going to do about an outfit tomorrow.

Scully’s bag had made it to the motel, and been dropped off at the office. She sighed with relief at the sight of it, and then apologized to him that his was still missing. Disappearing into her room, he ducked into his own, wishing this case were over. If he never saw another snake again, he would be happy.

He showered and changed into another undershirt and underwear Scully had the foresight to purchase for him. He paced the room as he thought of what to do about his clothes tomorrow, when he heard Scully knock on the adjoining door. He grinned and went to grab his toothbrush before he opened it.

Again she stood in the doorway with wet hair, but this time in her own black satin pajamas. They were nice, but not tight, lilac nice. She held out the toothpaste and he brandished his toothbrush at her, causing her to roll her eyes, her lips curling into a small smile.

“I’m gonna need to get something for tomorrow. No way I can wear those clothes again. I’d like to have a burial service for them if I could. Could we arrange that?” She laughed and looked at him as she put on the toothpaste. He winked at her and stuck his toothbrush in his mouth.

“You were rather ripe today. I’m sorry your bag isn’t here. It’s quite nice to put on my own clean clothes,” she said, capping the toothpaste.

“Braggart,” he said around his toothbrush. He walked away and spit in the bathroom sink. He finished up, rinsed out his mouth, and set his toothbrush down.

She was leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed, eyes roaming up his body. He caught her when she got to his eyes and she moved, uncrossing her arms and clearing her throat. Her cheeks were flushed and he could not stop the smile that creeped across his face.

“Well, goodnight. We’ll figure out something for your clothes tomorrow. Maybe hit that store again. See you in the morning,” she said all in a rush, closing her door with a loud click.

He smiled, knowing he caught her looking and knowing she knew he did. Things were changing between them. It was going slowly, but he liked it that way. Something was still there, something holding them both back, but they were moving closer. He smiled again, and then his eyes landed on his clothes. Shaking his head, he resolved to be up early,  determined to not be around her again until he smelled better than “ripe.”

_______________________________

The Heartbreak Motel 7:30 a.m. Friday

The alarm went off the next morning, and he slid on his pants with a cringe. He kept just his undershirt on, put on his shoes, and drove to the same store. They were just opening when he walked inside. Not wanting to take too much time, he grabbed a white button down and a pair of khaki pants. He balked at them, but it was what was available to purchase.

Just before he walked to the register, he spotted a leather jacket. He stopped and looked at it. It was a rather nice jacket and there was no reason he should not buy it, even if he had one similar to it already. No chance could he wear that gray coat Scully had picked, with the new khaki colored pants.

He found his size and added it to the other items. If Scully’s bag arrived yesterday, hopefully it meant his would arrive sometime today, and this would be enough to get by. If not, he would need to find a place and wash what he had with him.

Purchase complete, he went back out to the car, dropping his bag beside him, and driving back to the motel. Once inside, he quickly showered again and got dressed. God, it felt so good to wear new, clean clothes, and not something that was sweaty and smelly.

Scully knocked on the adjoining door and he opened it. She looked at him and nodded, a smile on her face. Catching his eye, she stared at him with a look he could not quite place. Breaking his gaze after a few seconds, she took a breath.

“I got a call. There was a problem with Gracie. We need to go.” He grabbed his jacket and followed her out the door.

_____________________________

Blessings of God Hospital 10:30 a.m. Sunday

He stared at her as she sat next to him on his hospital bed, her eyes so blue and beautiful. She sighed and smiled again before squeezing his hand, getting up and heading to the door. His wounds were healing and he was starting to feel better, but he would be in the hospital for a couple more days. Bored and ready to leave, seeing her made him happy, but he wished he could be leaving with her.

“Oh,” she said, turning around and looking at him with a cheeky grin. “Your bag showed up last night. So, you’re good to go. You know … when you’re ready to wear pants again.”

“Goddamn. Finally,” he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. She smiled and nodded before she headed out the door.

He looked at the door and sighed. A few more days and he would be ready to leave. It could not come soon enough. Watching her leave every day was killing him. He was ready to be done with this and continue moving forward.

He just needed his goddamn pants to get the hell out of this hospital. Thank all that was holy in the world, he was never so happy to hear he had clothes waiting for him.

Lost luggage could eat a huge pile of shit.

___________________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed this little story. Seeing a prompt always gets my mind spinning with how I could write out that scenario. This one was fun. 😊 

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part IV

(Author’s Notes: Does anyone even read this part? I’m going to pretend like you all do... Hello everyone! Here is the next installment of my Jordelia fan-fiction based on the characters created by the amazing Cassandra Clare in her trilogy Chain of Gold. This is really turning into what the cool kids call a “slow burn”. I never intended it to have such an extensive plot, but this quarantine is really bring forth my imagination. Anyway, if you enjoyed this please give it a like, reblog, comment, or feel free to just pop in and say hi. As always, thank you for reading! Happy and safe quarantine to you all. P.S. I have added an original character “Martin” for the selfish reason that I didn’t want to kill Cyril. Please forgive the inconsistency.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Part IV

“Maybe he should lie down?”

“I don’t need to lie down, mother,�� said James, not unkindly, but with a bit of annoyance. “He’s removing a bracelet, not my arm.”

“If you don’t remain still,” said Magnus, his dark eyebrows glistened with flecks of glitter when he arched them, “it might well be.”

Magnus stood in front of James in the center of the Institute library with James’s hand suspended between them while the warlock focused his attention on the seemingly inconsequential silver band that adorned James’s wrist. If one were looking from afar without any context at all it might appear comical. Flecks of blue light danced from Magnus’s fingertips causing the silver to rattle against James’s skin. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or if the bracelet had begun to glow. No. It was most certainly glowing and hot. It rattled and spun until it became so hot that James ripped his arm away on instinct. 

Magnus looked up, resigned and slightly paled. “It’s a much more powerful spell than I initially realized.” 

“How do you mean?” Will asked from where he sat on the desk under the arched stain glass window cut and stained to look like the angel Raziel rising up to the heavens. Rain hit the glass as thunder crackled against the Institute’s walls rattling the crystal chandelier above them. “Will it come off?”

“It’s the strangest thing.” Magnus picked up James’s wrist again. “An absolute work of genius, actually. It’s as if it’s alive and it’s fighting against my magic.”

“Well I’ve had quite enough.” Lucie stood up from the floor where she had been petting Church in long, absentminded strokes. The cat gave a placid meow when she’d stopped. She smoothed out her dress and walked towards the door. “There seems to be only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” Matthew asked from where he stood in front of the door, blocking her way. He seemed more steady than his usual self. His hand wasn’t twitching where it held the door frame; his eyes remained focused and clear. They had all wondered what brought on his sudden sobriety. It seemed after one conversation with her father and he’d dropped the sauce like one of his waist coats that he deemed “out of style”. Will had that effect on people. It was best not to question it.

“I’m going to collect Grace Blackthorn and drag her here so that she can ask James to remove the bracelet her-bloody-self.” Lucie came to a stop in front of Matthew. It may have been the shadows cast across his face, but Matthew almost appeared afraid.

“No, Lucie, we aren’t sure what Grace is capable of,” said Tessa. “You said only moments ago that she confessed the truth about the bracelet, but you failed to think to bring her here to remove it?”

Lucie’s mouth opened in defense, but closed as if she forgot what she intended to say. She turned back to Matthew with a quizzical grimace. “Why didn’t we bring Grace back with us?”

“She—“ Matthew raised a pale eyebrow. “I must say I don’t recall.”

Lucie turned her back against the wall and crossed her arms over chest. Heat radiated to her face despite the chill that surrounded the room. Anxiety prickled underneath her skin like the desire to run as far and as fast as she could. 

It’d been a whole day since she last spoke to Cordelia. They’d stood in the foray of her Aunt Cecily’s home after having walked in on her brother ravishing Grace Blackthorn against a wall. It was not an image that would soon evaporate from her memories. A blind rage filled her so suddenly that she feared she might have blacked out for a moment. When she came to, the walls behind James and Grace started to ripple and crease as translucent figures emerged from the atrocious paisley wallpaper. Their fleshless hands reached for the disentangled couple when Cordelia wrapped her hand around Lucie’s wrist and the door closed between them. 

No one had seen anything. Not even her brother whose eyes were fastened on Cordelia. No one knew the dark depths to which her power could reach— not even herself. 

“I know you’re upset, darling,” said Tessa, from beside her daughter now, “but have faith that Magnus can remove the bracelet and we will figure this all out.”

“We don’t have time for faith and waiting.” Lucie dropped her arms back to her sides. “Cordelia is on her way to Idris and after what James did, she’s likely to rune her room with wards not even the Angel himself can get through.” 

James grimaced. Good, she thought. He deserves to be in pain.

“That doesn’t sound like Cordelia to me,” said Tessa and pressed a hand to Lucie’s cheek. “You’re warm darling, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.” Lucie insisted. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment I think I’ll pop into the kitchen for a glass of water while I have faith and wait.”

Tessa looked resigned. “Maybe someone should go with you.”

“It’s only down the hall,” said Lucie, skirting past her mother towards the now empty doorway. Matthew stood beside James, an arm around his shoulder, as the two of them studied the bracelet. Matthew said something in James’s ear that brought a small smile to her brother’s face. Whatever they had fought about only days ago, it seemed not to matter now. Or if it did, other things took precedence at the moment. 

Tears stung her eyes as she turned from the scene and exited the room.

The framed pictures on the hallway walls rattled with the thunder. Lucie stopped to readjust one that had tilted slightly of her sitting in a deep purple velvet arm chair studying a book. She secretly hated the likeness— not because it didn’t capture her respectfully— but because of the memory of it. She had to sit for nearly four hours listening to the artist drone on about his holiday in the Americas while her brother clashed swords with Matthew in the training room next door. 

“Chin up, dear.” Bridget would say from time to time. “You’ll look like a potato.”

Lucie left the photo off center and pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. To her relief, it was empty. Bridget was probably in her room reading or minding the Institute’s many chores. The kitchen always smelt like rosemary, freshly baked loaves, and exotic spices. It was heavenly and had an instant calming effect on Lucie. Memories of being a child and helping Bridget beat dough with her tiny fists until she was covered in flour from her mess of mousy brown curls to her apron came to mind. What she wouldn’t give to have a mound of dough to beat now.

Lucie walked around the center island, covered in a thin layer of flour, to the cupboard that housed the glassware and pulled a cup from the shelf. The pitcher of cold water sat beside the sink; she filled her cup to the brim and took a sip when a slight chill brushed against the exposed skin on the back of her neck. 

“Not now, Jessamine.” Lucie stared down into her reflection in the cup. The soft wispy hair around her face stood out in delicate curls she’d inherited from her father. A leaf sat tucked behind her ear. The coal she’d lined her eyes with had run making her eyes appear wide and fatigued. 

“Should I return later then?”

The cup fell from her hands and shattered at her feet, but she hardly seemed to notice. She spun around and faced the voice. “Jesse.”

A smile curved at the corner of his mouth. His straight black hair fell against his pale skin and swept across his green eyes that studied her from across the room.

“Where have you been?” The shattered glass crushed under her shoes as she moved forward to meet him. An uncontrollable desire to grab him around the shoulders and collapse into him made it difficult for her to breath evenly. She knew she couldn’t; that it wasn’t possible anymore, but reality rarely dissolved desire. 

“Tracking my fugitive mother,” said Jesse, his lips curled over his teeth. “I thought how hard could it possibly be to find a woman who still chooses to wear an enormous Victorian bird hat? Well, it turns out that it’s extremely difficult. If you needed me why didn’t you summon me sooner?”

Lucie averted her eyes to the ink stain marks on her fingers. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

After commanding him against his will to take her to James, she’d made a promise not only to him, but to herself to never command him to do anything again. That included summoning him to her even when she longed to just hear his voice. 

“It’s alright, Lucie.” Jesse stepped towards her but stopped. “Why did you summon me now?”

She looked up aghast. “I didn’t.”

“I heard you,” said Jesse, his expression softened. “It was faint but I heard you.”

Lucie shook her head. “Jesse, I promise you that I did not, or if I had, I hadn’t meant to.”

Jesse opened his mouth to reply when he looked to the kitchen doors. “Someone’s coming.” 

Lucie waited for the doors to swing open to reveal her mother, or father, or Matthew coming to retrieve her after being gone for too long. The air in front of the door rippled, like heat rising on pavement, until the form of a man materialized out of the haze. He was dressed in a rain soaked driver’s uniform, but his back was bent out of shape and his right leg curved out at an unnatural angle.

“Martin?” Lucie balked, recognizing the man that has driven her carriage since she was a child.

Lucie and Jesse both moved towards the ghost from either side of the room. The water that dripped from his coat splashed onto the floor and instantly dissolved into mist. 

“What’s happened to you?” Lucie demanded.

Martin looked between them as if he wasn’t all together sure how he’d come to be standing in front of them. “I was told by others that you would be able to see me; that you would be able to help.” He looked down at his hands. “I feel so strange. Everything and nothing at the same time.”

“Martin?” Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that he was dead; a ghost standing in her kitchen as he had all of her life. Always casually slipping in to steal a fresh biscuit behind Bridget’s back with only crumbs and Lucie’s giggles left to give him away. He would listen to her stories on long drives and praise her for her prose. He’d laugh in all the right places and made her promise to sign a copy of her first published work, so he could keep it on his mantle. “What happened to you?”

“I was taking Mr. and Miss Carstairs to the London Portal when we were attacked.”

“Cordelia.” Lucie rushed forward. “Where is Cordelia?”

“I don’t know—“ Martin’s body began to flicker and wain, “I don’t have much time. I’m not supposed to be here, you see, but I fear something terrible may have happened. Something truly, truly terrible.”

Lucie burst through the library doors, the hem of her dress wet from her cup of water and her face noticeably pale.

The previous occupants of the room where joined by three more: Christopher stood beside Magnus surveying the bracelet and Thomas towered next to Matthew. Anna Lightwood was holding Church like a baby beside the fireplace. They all looked to her as she entered.

“It’s Cordelia.” Lucie shouted, her hand gripped the wall to keep her stable. “She’s been attacked.”

The room fell silent except for the small yet noticeable ting of metal hitting stone. Lucie’s eyes, along with everyone else’s, looked down at James’s feet where the bracelet now rested half on the toe of his boot and half on the floor. 

[hyukiee]

Chapter 2: Backseat

Warnings: cussing, drug use, mental illness (future fluff, smut, angst, etc.)

I’m so sorry for not updating, a lot has been going on but be ready for a double update! :)

Taehyung is the type of person that is never fake. He can read people like an open book and when he sees that their intentions are fake, he doesn’t hide his annoyance or frustration. He has been in many of these situations with celebrities while in America. There’s a reason people say to never meet your idols. Chances are, their assholes. It’s unfortunately rare to come across a genuine person in the industry. Taehyung just doesn’t have the energy to be someone he is not, he’s been having this feeling of loneliness a lot more everyday. Not really loneliness but just this incompleteness. He can’t say anything though because that would make him greedy in other people’s eyes. What does he not have, right? He’s in the biggest group in the world, he can get anything he wanted. He’s never understood the whole ‘money can’t buy happiness’ phrase as much as he does now. “Yah, we’re getting your favorite coffee why do you look like someone just stole your favorite toy,” Yoongi chuckled hanging his arm around Taehyung’s shoulder. “Just tired, it’s hot out today,” “Mhm, good ole California,” Hoseok piped in with his iconic smile. The heat consumed Taehyung’s mind until he saw someone sitting in front of his favorite cafe. Not just some homeless person but weirdly the prettiest one he has ever seen. The urge to help her was obviously because she was pretty because they have passed many homeless people here and never gave a second look. He really shouldn’t help her, right? Homeless people are there for a reason, she may use his could of been good spent money on drugs. Little did he know you mentally hit yourself for not taking his money for an extra Xanax. Fuck it.

“Where did Tae go, he needs to order?” Namjoon frantically looked around the shop as if he was looking for his lost child. On que, Taehyung walked in with even more of a depressed look. “Was I the only one that saw him get rejected by the homeless??” Jungkook held onto his stomach from laughter and soon pain from Taehyung’s fist. “What is up with you today? You’re never like this,” Jin spoke for the whole group. Taehyung really is never like this. Everyone knows how insanely honest he is, he wouldn’t just give some crackhead money. No, he would give it to someone that deserved it. Something told him she didn’t deserve the money but she deserved something... he wish he would be able to find out what it was.

“Yahh, i’m much taller than you, i’ll catch up eventually so you might as well stop,” Taehyung had a smile stuck on his face as he sped walked behind you. He expected this to happen, it wasn’t really planned to have you find out that you were talking to someone famous all along by seeing him perform but it was just too good of an opportunity. He didn’t see you in the crowd but he saw you walking away with your head down. He would of never assumed it would be that easy to embarrass you. “What? I thought you wanted to meet celebrities here?” he spoke almost cocky after grabbing your small wrist making you turn to him abruptly. “Is this a joke? What do you want from me? I don’t want to be your charity case if that’s what this all is.” Ouch. Was he that bad at flirting or do you have a million walls holding you back? “I’ve been feeling empty recently. You know, like I have everything but it’s not really what I want. I’m interested in you, this isn’t a common thing for me when i’m in a foreign country. Your not a charity case but...,” Taehyung’s cheeks turned red at his sudden confessions. You kept eye contact with him as he rambled though, it almost felt like you found relief in what he was saying. “I’ll be your charity case if you really are as interesting as i’m assuming.”

Is he asking you for drugs? No... it can’t be that. He doesn’t know you, how does he have such a big assumption of you out of one conversation. You probably can’t run now, he really is much taller than you. What is holding you back? Some ridiculously attractive artist is asking you of all people to show him a life he has been missing. Oh you can do that. It’s practically your second job. “Fuck it, let’s go.” You turned back around and started walking slower to the exit, assuming Taehyung was following. You might be able to scare him out of this before you even get on the road back to L.A. People always swear they want to live this carefree life but that is just what it looks like on the outside. It’s a scam. Give you a good time at first and by the end of it your just a sleep deprived drug addict. That could never be Taehyung. If he can make assumptions about you, you could do the same. He’s a good guy, the type to try and change you into a better person. He’ll stick out like a bug with you. So out of place but so desperate to find whatever is missing in his life.

“So, BTS huh? How’s that?” you and Taehyung sat in the back of Julian’s car waiting for him to find his way back so you can get some sleep at a hotel. “Exhausting, honestly but my members are amazing and so are our fans so that keeps me going,” he played with his fingers, smiling as he thought about the guys and army. He feels terrible for feeling lost when he has such amazing people around him. “Interesting,” you responded back uninterested. Not on purpose, you were just trying to cut up some cocaine on your phone. Taehyung noticed how you spoke and looked at you. “What’s that?” “Do you really wanna know?” You laughed at his innocent expression. “I don’t know why I asked, I know what it is,” why does it feel like your getting judged by your father? He sounded so disappointed, you almost felt guilty. Almost. “Sure you do,” you laughed before snorting your perfectly made line you might say. You released a long sigh as you entered your own world made by your dearest cocaine. Not a single thing in this world could replace the feeling. Taehyung sat almost uncomfortably looking out the window, pretending you weren’t literally abusing drugs right beside him. He’s stubborn, he hasn’t left yet even though you can tell he is reconsidering his decision to come with you. It reminds you of yourself, stubborn as fuck and so desperate to find a new meaning in life.

“Jesus christ y/n, when I said people would kill to meet celebrities here I didn’t mean go off and kidnap one,” Julian loudly made himself noticed in the drivers seat, noticing the perfectly built man before he even opened the door. “Oh fuck off, he asked to come,” Fuck, now you have to playing fucking translator. “Taehyung, this is Julian,” you tapped on him pointing to Julian. “Yeah, right .. what’s up man,” Julian greeted Taehyung like he did everyone else. It isn’t rare for the both of you to bring around random people, it’s apart of the life you live, vibing with complete strangers and quite literally trusting them with your life sometimes. Taehyung greeted him the best he could in his own awkward way. “He doesn’t speak english so just use hand gestures like a dumb ass, I don’t feel like translating right now.” You spoke laying your head back on the headrest. As Julian begin to drive you could feel Taehyung shaking his foot anxiously. You do that all the time but you never really took him for someone with anxiety. You probably give him anxiety. You probably scare him. You know better than anyone that comfort is what you needed when you were that innocent girl getting involved in the dangerous life so you instinctively placed wrapped your small hand ontop of his that layed on the middle seat. You felt him look at you. His leg stopped shaking.

[lilytriestoexist]

Erawan With Bangs: A Sequel

I was stressing myself out over a physics assignment involving eyeballs so I decided the ideal stress relief was...writing fanfiction about EWB. Again. Really, it’s all physics’s fault. Also, I haven’t read all of K0A, so this is nowhere near what actually happened in canon, but it's probably way cooler. Featuring: @crescentcitysux @croissantcitysucks and @antisjmmemes. Obligatory tag: @erawanwithbangs . And it’s 12am here, so goodnight lol. (i think i 'peaked' with the first one. also, tw/ erawan kills people and there's talk about blood)

His new look, Erawan decided, was the most powerful weapon in his disposal. It had struck his Valg Princes and common underlings speechless with its sheer magnificence. Not one person had spoken out against his mighty bangs, for they were faultless and flawless, and most definitely not because he had snapped the neck of the sole demon commoner who had given his hair a displeased side-eye. No, the people had spoken, and his bangs were glorious. 

But while he and his bangs carried his side of the war to victory after victory, Maeve was not doing as well. The nasty brat who styled herself a queen - what was her name, Alien? Ayla? No, it was Eileen. Yes, Fire Queen Eileen had escaped from Maeve’s clutches and was reunited with her mate, Ronan, her cousin Adrian, her friend Lydia, and a few other Fae males whose names he couldn’t remember. They all started to blend together after a while, anyway. The last he’d heard from Maeve through their Valg bloodlink, Eileen’s court was a thorn in her side, and one she was determined to rip out and incinerate. Erawan had opened his mouth, intending to ask about her strange obsession with Eileen and Ronan’s romance, but he’d caught a glance of his bangs in the tableware and decided he had other priorities. A strand of hair was longer than the others in his otherwise immaculate bangs; Maeve, Eileen, and Ronan could wait. 

Anyway, the point was that Maeve was not doing great, but he was doing pretty great, and so the clear resolution to this was to go help her out. Which was why he was here, using his powers a few metres off the ground, skin bleeding wisps of shadow. His bangs flapped in the gentle breeze as he lead his army forward to meet Terrasen’s own, smirking as it registered on their puny faces that he himself was leading his forces. Shock, fear, horror, and resignation flitted across their tiny faces in quick succession, but still they raised their weapons and charged, foolish bravery etched into their bones. A slow grin spread across his face, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth, as black swallowed his eyes whole and he leapt forward. 

After a while, severing heads from bodies and tearing organs from beneath fragile skin got boring, and the spurt of blood from open wounds no longer gave him a similar rush of satisfaction. How easy it was to steal life from humans, to toss them aside like puppets with cut strings. He had lived thousands of their short lifetimes, and he would live thousands more.

“ERAWAN!”

A cry rang out through the battlefield, and he looked up,  brows raised, as he shoved aside the latest victim of his dark, blazing whips. And speaking of blazing, Eileen was making her way across the grass, stepping over the dead and dying bodies of her soldiers, twin flames surging from her upward-facing palms and casting warm light across her pale face. Sunlight gleamed off her gold armour, and a matching broadsword hung from her belt.

“Eileen.” He gave her a nod of acknowledgement, but she just stared, jaw dropping.

“Did you just call me Eileen?”

Erawan blinked, unimpressed. “That’s your name, so of course I did.”

She spluttered, flailing her hands around and sending tiny embers of glowing orange fluttering through the air. “I - my name is AeIin!” she snarled, baring her canines.

He gave her a long, hard stare. “I’m going to call you Eileen,” he announced. “Because you look like an Eileen.”

“AeIin!” A hawk came swooping down from the clouds and transformed into a man with short white hair and word-like tattoos sprawled across half his face, Eileen’s apparent name spilling from his lips. 

“Ah!” Erawan looked him up and down. “You must be Ronan.”

Ronan pressed two fingers into the inner corners of his eyes, just below his brow-bones, and ignored him. “AeIin - “

“I told you not to come, Rowan,” Eileen snapped. “This is between me and him.”

“Ronan can stay if he wants,” Erawan said. “The more the merrier. I’ve always enjoyed slaughtering Fae. Do you happen to have any friends you could bring along?”

“Rowan, I can do this,” Eileen said, staring deep into his eyes before surging up to meet him. Erawan averted his gaze as Ronan returned her action with equal fervour, coughing into his hand and whistling a tune, tapping his foot in time with the clashing of metal on metal and the haunting song of warfare that flooded from the still-raging battle.

When he turned back around, they were still going at it. With a growl of annoyance, he sent a snaking tendril of darkness and made it slap them away from each other. 

“Are you done?” he demanded. “Less making out, more taking out.”

Ronan looked torn, but finally turned back into a hawk and took off into the air, flapping his great wings and circling the battlefield before something caught his eye and he flew until he was only a small speck against a sea of blue. 

The glow of an approaching fireball made him look at Eileen’s face, twisted into a grimace of determination. He batted away the fireball, sending it careening into one of her own soldiers and grinning as the poor man was turned to ash, but she kept them coming - fireballs that shifted between red, orange, and yellow every time he blinked, massive walls of flame that engulfed the nearby area, since thankfully people had the sense to stay away, whips that mirrored his own favourite attack that tried to wind around his arms and lash out at his legs. 

When she jumped deftly over a rippling wave of night and curled her fingers, conjuring another fireball and flicking it at him, his hand rose to hit it away, like he had for all the others. But this one had been aimed higher than his chest, and his fingers skimmed through air. Instinct kicked in, sending him skidding to the side as the fireball just barely missed his head and continued through the air. Erawan breathed a sign of relief, hand reaching up to caress his bangs and summon good luck.

He knew something was wrong when he felt plain skin instead of the comfort of his bangs, lovely and golden and smooth as the finest silk. His gaze turned to the floor, where strands of hair floated to rest on the grass, burnt off by the fireball. He barely registered Eileen taking advantage of his momentous loss, but his powers kicked in, a shield springing up between them.

Erawan sank to his knees, touching his fingers to what was left of his poor, poor bangs. The colour had been swallowed by ashy black, and a thin line of smoke wafted from the debris, twisting and twirling in the air, mocking him. Eileen was still hammering away at his shield. His hand went back to his forehead, measuring the wideness, touching where the hair had been burnt off. He could feel the tight coils of agony scrape against his throat, against the writhing walls of his stomach, and all he could do was let it out.

Darkness erupted from him as he screamed, pouring out all his pain and grief and agony into the one sound, loud and high-pitched and thick with mourning. It did not go to attack Eileen, though she took cover beneath a cocoon of flames, nor any of her followers. Instead, it danced around the blood-stained field before coalescing into a ring of black, rotating in mid-air, a thin glowing sheen of white barely visible within. His magic, acting on its master’s inner thoughts, summoning the only people who might understand.

Aelia, Lyn, and Salty appeared, stepping out of the portal and descending to the ground, confusion apparent on their faces as they took in Eileen, blanketed in protective flames, to the battle that was in the process of resuming, to him, hunched on the ground and shaking.

“Erawan with bangs?” Lyn asked, prodding at his shoulder. Another tortured cry ripped itself from the crevices of his throat at the cruel reminder, and she jumped, exchanging concerned glances with her companions. “Uh, Erawan?”

“It’s gone,” he murmured, covering his massive forehead with his left palm. 

“What’s gone?” Salty asked with a frown, before realisation filled their eyes. “Oh no. It’s gone, isn’t it?”

“The bangs,” Aelia breathed, and winced as he howled yet again. “Okay, you can stop doing that now. How did it happen?”

“Her,” he whispered, limbs stiffening. “Her.” He pushed himself off the ground and extended a single trembling finger at Eileen, who extinguished her flames and blinked at the new arrivals and his fragile state.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said, embers flying from her fingertips in warning. “He’s trying to take over the world as we know it, I’m trying to stop him. I don’t know what lies he’s fed you, but it’s not true.”

Lyn waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “He hasn’t told us anything.” she said, “and he doesn’t need to. We already know what those in this world are doing with their lives, and I’m not a fan of either camp.”

“What?” Eileen’s brows shot up. “But I’m right! He’s literally an evil monster!”

Salty shrugged. “And you’re an annoying bitch who’s expressed take-over-the-world desires. I think both of you aren’t great. And I don’t really care.” Their expression hardened. “What I do, or did care about were those bangs. Those glorious, glorious bangs.”

“Always in our hearts,” Aelia said, resting her palm over her chest solemnly. “You will never be forgotten, bangs. We will remember you forever.”

Eileen sent a massive wall of flame at them, apparently losing her temper, but Lyn snapped her fingers and it disappeared. Eileen’s second attempt met the same fate, and then her third and fourth as well.

“You know, Erawan without bangs,” Aelia said.

“Yeah?” he replied, choking back a sob.

“I think we should give - wait, what’s this girl’s name? I thought it was AeIin.”

“No, it’s definitely Eileen.”

“Well, maybe we should give Eileen a little payback. You know, as a treat.”

A second later, he had strode over to where Eileen was desperately sending fireball after fireball at a cackling Lyn, his own night black flame cradled in his hand. She had no time to react before he’d coaxed it to leap through the air and onto the ends of her hair, crawling up the strands of gleaming blonde until her whole head was lit up, apart from the strands of hair that hung in front of her forehead. She screamed and writhed, but he had tendrils of shadow wrapped around her wrists and ankles, and more strips over her neck and chin, keeping her head immobilised. Within a minute, all her long hair had been eaten up, apart from the area he’d left untouched. She was almost completely bald, her hairless head shining like an egg.

“Here,” Salty said, handing him the pair of scissors he kept in his bedroom. “Don’t ask any questions.” He didn’t.

“Get away from me,” Eileen sobbed. “What are you doing, get away, get away!”

“You must face the consequences of your own actions,” Lyn declared, poking at Eileen’s pointed ears and looking very unimpressed. 

He balled up all his rage and grief at the loss of his bangs, steadied his hands, and began cutting. Eileen dissolved into a string of whimpers as he ruthlessly cut her the worst fringe he could imagine having, all ragged and crooked lines, with no layering to break up the monotonous fall of hair, almost covering her eyes. When the final chunk of blonde fell to the floor, he waved his hand, ensuring that no strand of hair outside of his ugly fringe would ever grow on Eileen’s head. Aelia, Lyn, and Salty then each placed a finger on the fringe and said what he assumed to be an ancient, esoteric spell from their own world, sealing it with flashes from their rectangles. I wonder what magical properties the word ‘fuck’ has, he thought. 

Once they had completed their spell, Erawan stepped back and waved away Eileen’s restraints. Aelia tossed her a mirror that he was almost sure came from his possessions as well, and they watched as Eileen ran quivering hands over her egg-like bald head, felt the fringe they’d left behind, and finally, looking like she’d rather be six feet beneath the earth, brought her face to the mirror.

Her ensuing scream of anguish was the most delightful thing he’d ever heard. He hummed the tune, the rising and falling in pitch and cracking of tone, as he grew himself a new pair of bangs the next morning.

[c-atm]

Setting the record Straight

White Diamond waited patiently for him to arrive, eyes closed sitting in her crossed legged position, the perfect symbol of tranquility. Hiding the fact that she was completely and utterly nervous for this conversation as well as cracked with guilt over taking so long to have it, but the time has come. If they were to continue helping shape a brighter future for gems both on Homeworld and abroad, shed had to start at home.

The sounds of her door sliding open alerted the tyrant turned pacifist, her eyes opened and she felt a bit more pressure on her gem. She gave a smile despite the pressure in her cut.

"Starlight, thank you for coming and Twilight, what a welcomed surprise." She looked at them eye to eye, fighting that small wrinkle of pride, seeing their surprised faces at her newer human height. She had Yellow change her for this meeting, She didn't  want to feel as if she was condescending at all to him..Them now, during this talk. 

She didn't expect to be slightly looking up at them both, not physically anyway. 

"White." Twilight...Connie said evenly. Indifferent lips in a line, a deep stare in her black eyes, right hand in her lab coat pocket, left interlocked with Steven's, as always.

White knew better to think this woman feared her, now or ever. She wouldn't be surprised if the human woman already had a plan to crack her, if things ever went sour and the only thing that's keeping her from initiating it is in her left hand. She bit back a sigh, she did deserve her ire.

"Hey, White." Steven, her starlight, spoke in his gentle way. A presence of kindness and love,  even after everything he's been through. Though he now held a weight of strength and command as well, with zero fear towards White.

White would never stop adoring him and how he always seems to change more and more each time, same with Connie as well. Even if she knew they didn't feel the same about her. That's not her choice.

.

"Yellow said you wanted to speak with me?" 

"Yes.. Please?" White offered them a pillow for them to sit on in front of her. 

"I'll leave you to it." Connie started as she released his hand.

"Wait Connie.I would like you to stay, I...I owe you this conversation as well."

Connie looked towards the matriarch for a moment, before nodding asking a seat besides Steven.

White felt the nerves she didn't possess rattle like little jumping beans. In front of her was the victim and witness of her most haunting act...The removal of Steven's gem. She could dissipate  at any moment from the anxiety alone. The concerned looks on her two guests didn't  help either. 

"White...Is everything ok?" 

She gave Steven a reassuring grin at the worrying tone..She didn't deserve such attention not from these two.

"Y-yes." She stuttered as she looked downward toward her white knuckles and trimmed nails. Her face glowing pink in embarrassment. "No...It's not." She shook her head. "Steven...Connie…"  she inhaled deeply into her non-existent lungs, turning to them with pleading eyes. " I'm sorry for what I've done to you two."

Steven's face held a bit of confusion at what she was talking about. His mind going over recent visits and meetings with White and not finding anything out of the ordinary haughty annoyance. 

"Sorry?" 

Steven looked over at his Heartberry, the cold voice from her lips could make a room of Sapphires feel like a sauna.

"Six...Years." Connie growled as she ball her fist to the side. "It took six years for you to apologize," her voice rose little by little, " and while that might mean nothing to a multi-eon being like yourself, that six years of holding these feeling of rage and sadness." Her eyes were moist as her voice reached a roar. Of recurring nightmares! Each playing a what if scenario of him dying BY YOUR HAND only to wake up and play nice with You! The one who got closet of taking him away from me!"

"Connie!" Steven called looking up at her and grabbing her hand. She was poised to attack, with her dead cold glare and waist level hands held like blades. He knew the R&D member enough to know that she would attack with precision and brutality and possibly regret it after it was done.

"Mister.." She looked at him receiving a shake of his head as a response. She breathed deeply and rested back to her seat, her back facing White. "I'm not apologizing. I don't regret what I was planning to do."

"Con-"

"I don't expect you to." White sincerity was evident. "Your hate is founded, Connie. I will take it...If it allows me to have some communication with you."  All she got was a slight glance and sneer from the woman.

The man shook his head as he looked towards White. "This is quite the heavy subject, White." He sighed.

"I apologize...but It needs to be addressed."  White offered. " It ...has plagued me. Vision of my past actions..Most predominantly that event. Usually when I fall into stasis."

"You've been sleeping and having nightmares." Steven surmised.

"I supposed...Though the weight of my sin against you two is always present, regardless." White peered at the young adult, who gave her an even smirk. "Why aren't you mad at me, still?" 

Steven brows rose at the question. " Hmph…Maybe because my hands aren't exactly free of shards themselves."

"None of our hands are clean." Connie added in a low tone, getting a surprised look from White.

"Peace is relative and progress is the result of  trial and error." Steven offered to Connie, before turning to White.  "That being said.." Steven sighed "I don't have the mindset to be mad anymore… Not after I've tried to crush your gem after you gave me free control of your body" He turned away shame on his face "I took advantage of your good will and wield it as a weapon... and that was after I shattered and realigned Jasper." 

"Jasper was a mistake." Connie and White spoke in tandem.

"One that I still live with." Steven retorted. "The same with my actions against you, White." Steven admitted. 

"Starlight. That...That was a result of what I did to you."  

"Compounded with all you were going through." 

"Still doesn't excuse what I did…." Steven argued with the two, before turning to White. "What we did to each other. " He exhaled given her and apologetic glance. "I never apologized to you."

"I don't deserve it." 

"You'd try to help me when I was corrupted."

"Everyone did." White smiled glancing at Connie. "Some are immensely more effective than others."  

Connie gave a slight nod at her praise-filled voice.

Steven gave Connie’s hand a quick squeeze of appreciation. Before turning back to White.

"I didn't enter this conversation, looking for forgiveness. Just to tell 'clear the air'..I believe that's the term...Between us." White started seriously. 

Steven nodded. "Fair enough. Please." Steven  proposed. 

White lips pressed hard together as she gathered her thoughts. "I can't truly apologize enough for what I've done. Taking your gem from you, even in an attempt to bring back Pink, as pathetic of an excuse that is, was a horrendous wrongdoing." Her voice started breaking. "I nearly lost a chance to have a connection with you, Something I truly  treasure even as strained as it is."  She trembled as the density of her guilt hit her. " I am so sorry for hurting you two in such a way."

"I can't forget what you done." Connie breathed out. "Ever...I don't forgive you either." She continued coldly. "I was held against my will unable to do anything, while you plucked his life force out of him, literally; all because you didn't believe that he was who he always was." She turned forward glaring at the smaller diamond. "You nearly killed the most important person in my life, in front of me..While making me feel useless and powerless...You broke me,White and I truly hate you.." 

"Connie." Steven looked shocked

She breathed out her hand up.."Or at least I did…" She folded her arms looking indifferent  " You have changed from the gem you used to be. It's hard and unfair not to acknowledge that." Connie's eyes relaxed the slightest of measures. "I don't yet forgive, nor am I a fan of yours, but I don't hate you,White..I can't hate someone who's actually trying to change themselves and In the future,  who knows."

"That's more than I deserve from you, Twilight." White voiced in true gratitude.

Connie nodded as she turned to Steven. Who looked towards the ceiling 

"I don't know what to say actually." Steven's honest voice caught them both off guard. " I've held so much rage, fear, vengeance against you, but I know I've never hated you, not truly." Steven looked down at White. "I'm never gonna forget what was done to me, but also can't forget what I attempted to do to you. The things I've done...The only thing I can do is. Start to forgive you."

White was surprised at his statement. Her palm covering her mouth. "Steven…?"

"Listen. It's like Connie said. You aren't the same gem. " Steven pointed at the matriarch. "You've given yourself fully to gems allowing them to talk about their own problem..Turning to their avatar so they can workout their problems. You give your support to Little Homeworld R&D, from essence, to tools, to text and more." Steven rubbed the back of his head a feeling of modesty. "You're  essential to era 3, especially on the whole ambassador front...White, you have changed from before and  still a long way from what you can be. You're leagues better from what you were.." Steven laid a hand on her shoulder. "You earned a chance at forgiveness. Just keep doing what you doing." 

White couldn't speak, too afraid to destroy the gifts these two gave her. The simple fact that they didn't cut her out was more than what she thought, but to also be given a chance to earn their forgiveness. White could only nod as tears of relief and appreciation ran freely from her eyes.

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 22/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle is frustrated, tense, and annoyed with the case and with life, but Weaver once again knows how to get her to relax. .

Notes: So this chapter was not just an excuse to write some more hot smut between these two, I swear. Also the plotty bits that I intended for this chapter are now moved to the next one. The number of planned chapters is not changing however. Please note the additional smut tags for light spanking and a little anal play, which I am very nervous about. It just happened and I hope it doesn't turn anyone off. Sorry.

Warnings: Mention of miscarriage, light spanking, anal fingering

[AO3]  Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21]

Weaver sighed and pushed the folder away from him, shoving it across the conference table.

Belle sat at her desk across the room, her shoulders hunched as she typed and her eyes moving back and forth between a printout of Nevada adoption law and the laptop screen. She was, what Weaver would call, cranky. Of course, getting the information on Molly Macreedy’s adoption wasn’t as simple as calling up and asking for a favor, one ADA to another. First papers had to be filed locally and approved by a judge, then a request had to be processed through the Washington State AG’s office, which then came back to Belle to be filled with the Clark County District Attorney’s office, requesting, very nicely, one state to another, for them to open a sealed adoption record.

That had necessitated another call to Molly’s adoptive parents to get their signoff on opening a potential can of worms. They were very accommodating, though Weaver felt like every time he reached out, it was ripping the bandage off the wound again, one that he knew would never heal.

Since her meeting with Dr. Hopper, she’d been out of sorts. It was more than the tedious paperwork or the weight of serial murder case. Weaver got the sense that something had happened at her appointment, but he was hesitant to ask. He didn’t have a right to question her about her therapy, especially when he could see that she needed to talk to someone. He only wished she would talk to him as well, let him know what she was thinking and feeling, both about the case, about her own trauma, and about him.

She’d said she loved him.

Yet since that moment, it had felt like there was a ‘but’ waiting, a shoe that hadn’t dropped, and when it did would put them right back where they started. They hadn’t talked about where they stood, about what this continuing period of living together really was in the long run. He knew what he wanted, but it seemed like Belle did not. She’d been through a lot in the last few weeks, they both had, and perhaps she just needed time, though the more time that went by the less sure of that he felt.

He was tired of walking on eggshells, but loathed to stir the pot too much for fear it would push her away.

Belle muttered a curse, drawing Weaver out of his thoughts. He twisted his chair and met her annoyed gaze over the screen of her laptop.

“Interstate legal wrangling not going well?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and then sat back in her chair, her body sagging against the leather. “It’s going fine, just at the same rate of speed as a glacier.”

“Did they say when they might get back to you?”

She made a face and shrugged. “Records that far back aren’t digital yet, only 2010 and after. Which means some poor county worker gets to dig through boxes in a warehouse. So...if they can find them yet this week, they’ll be reviewed Monday or Tuesday, scanned, and emailed to me by maybe Thursday? If we’re lucky.”

She sighed, heavily, and leaned forward again, closing the email she’d been glaring at. Weaver pushed to his feet and crossed the room, meeting her tired look of annoyance with what he hoped was sympathy. He came around behind her chair as she braced her elbows on the desk and put her head in her hands, her fingers sliding into her hair to hold it back from her face.

“I hate waiting,” she groused.

“I know,” he replied, fighting a smile.

Belle and patience were not things that went together, and that saying something coming from a cop who had been known to bend some rules in the past in order to speed up an investigation. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“There’s plenty to do in the meantime,” he continued, gently pressing at the lump of muscle connecting her neck and back. “We should find out if any of the other victims were adopted, besides Molly and Nick, just in case that’s the connection we’ve been missing.”

She exhaled and bent her head further forward, encouraging his hands to work their way further up the tension in her neck. “Yeah.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, with her leaning on the desk and him kneading at her sore muscles, until he abruptly stopped. She made an unhappy sound and threw a look at him as he stepped away.

“I’ll happily keep going,” he said, smirking, “but at home. It’s half six already.”

Belle frowned and glanced down at her laptop screen, noting the time in the bottom corner. “Shit.”

He picked up his leather jacket from its customary spot, draped over the arm of her sofa, and turned back to her. “Frank’s tonight?” She tilted her head, already imagining the satisfying taste of the bacon chicken burger that was her usual order. “Split some mozz sticks?”

Weaver’s eyebrows lifted. “Split? Or I get two, and you get the remaining eight?”

She crumpled an extraneous piece of paper and tossed the wad at him before pushing back from her desk. He caught the paper easily, laughing, and shoved it in his pocket, to be deposited in the trash can on their way out.

Belle blew out a breath and closed the lid of her laptop.

They ate dinner at the counter in the kitchen while she searched county and state foster records for the names of the victims, but found nothing. Adoption records would take more effort, paperwork, and time. While it didn’t mean that wasn’t the connection between the victims, it was nonetheless another disappointment. It felt like the case was stalling, that the momentum they had after capturing Jack Branson was losing the battle with friction.

After dinner, she moved to the living room, and sat on the floor in front of the sofa with her laptop on the coffee table and papers spread out around her. She rolled her head to the side, frowning when it didn’t crack as she had hoped, and leaned back against the front of the sofa. Sitting on the floor had done her no favors. Ever since her appointment with Dr. Hopper there had been a vague tension in her body that if she just moved or twisted the right way would pop and bring sweet relief. Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t the case.

Talking to Archie had been both cathartic and nerve wracking. She was glad she had told him about the miscarriage, and that someone other than Ian and her knew, but at the same time she wasn’t sure what kind of rabbit hole that would lead her down. There was no doubt that Archie would bring it up at her next session, which she hadn’t actually confirmed yet, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. Revisiting that old wound, even in a small way, had taken a toll on her. She wanted to tell Weaver about it, yet held back. If she brought it up, he would want to talk about it, the same as Archie did, and all she wanted was to shove it down deep and pretend it never happened.

Obviously, that had been working well for her the last two years.

Weaver finished cleaning up in the kitchen, and sat down on the couch behind Belle.

“Still no luck, huh.”

“Nope.” She sighed, ignoring his question, and tipped her head back, resting it on the sofa cushion. “So about keeping that shoulder rub going...?”

He smiled and waited until she scooted forward before he moved over and settled behind her. Belle turned off the TV, which had been left on after the six o’clock news was over, and let her head fall forward as he laid his hands over the tops of her shoulders. His thumbs ran along the line of her neck, pressing harder on the way up than on the way back down, fanning out over muscles that feel as though they’ve been cramped for hours. He felt an unnatural hardness at the junction of her neck and shoulders, and worked his fingers into it in slow circles with steady pressure.

She breathed out and her head bobbed forward in relaxation when his fingers slid through her hair, nails scraping deliciously over her scalp, before trailing back down her neck.

"You're too good at this," she said as he eased her further forward, kneading the inside edge of her trapezius muscle.

His palms pushed gently, rubbing at the hidden tension. "And you're too tense.”

She exhaled again. “Yeah, must have slept wrong or something.”

He let out a grunting sound that was somehow both disbelief and agreement, in that order. It made her chastise herself that she still hadn’t brought up what she’d told Archie, and that she hadn’t called to make another appointment.

Weaver reached down, trying to find the spot at the base of her shoulder blade that always seemed to knot up, but the angle from the couch was awkward and there wasn’t enough space between her and the sofa to make it work.

He pulled his hands away and sat back. “Up.”

She frowned over her shoulder at him, and he repeated the command as he pushed to his feet.

“Where are you going?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

He paused and turned around in the doorway of the bedroom, smirking, and she rolled her eyes even as she stood and followed after him. He coaxed her out of the t-shirt she’d changed into after they arrived home, pulling up over her head to reveal the lace bralette underneath. His tongue pushed at his bottom lip when she undid the clasp and let it fall to the floor, followed by shoving her yoga pants down over her hips.

“You want me on the bed?” she asked with a cheeky quirk of her lips.

Weaver rolled his eyes, which made her giggle as she stretched out over the duvet, and moved to open the bedside table where a small bottle of her preferred body lotion was stashed. He popped it open, catching a whiff of vanilla and jasmine, and applied some to his palms, rubbing them together to warm it up before he touched her.

He knelt with one knee on the bed and began to slowly rub her back from shoulders to waist, up and down, slicking up her skin until it was soft and slippery. She groaned as his thumbs ran up her spine in a steady, even pressure that rolled over the muscles along her vertebrae. His fingers pressed against the prominent cliffs of her shoulder blades, jutting out as she rested her head on her bent elbows. Finally, he found the knot he’d been seeking earlier and kneaded it carefully, feeling the cramp in the tissue eventually give way and push a deep sigh from her lips.

His hands glided along her curves, easing away the tension in long, slow strokes, drawing out more little sounds. She shifted as he moved over the outside of her hips, massaging down the back of her thighs and calves, spanning them with both of his hands at the same time. She let out another low moan as he worked his way back up from her feet, and shifted her legs apart to work his thumbs into the muscles of her inner thighs.

He swept his fingers over her skin again and again, inching closer to the edge of her panties, and she let out a small whimper. The sound made his cock twitch, and he bit back a groan.

"So do I pay extra for you to keep going?" Belle asked, grinning as she stretched her legs against the bed, spreading them slightly.

Weaver’s hands moved slowly up the backs of her thighs, kneading the flesh gently and rubbing the last of the lotion in as she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at him. He stopped below the curve of her backside, feeling the heat emanating from between her legs as she raised her hips.

He licked his lips. “Maybe, but I have some very flexible terms.”

His fingers slowly trailed up between her legs, lightly rubbing her there, her folds already swollen and wet beneath her underwear. She parted her legs a little more, and he pressed and teased her opening with his fingertips. Slipping under the inner elastic, he pushed a finger into her, sliding all the way into the knuckle, loving the way she squirmed and moaned, her eyes squeezing shut.

"This part of the massage too?” She tried to push back against him, but he pulled his fingers away to start tugging her panties off.

He tossed them aside with a grin, and leaned over her, pressing kisses up along her spine as his hand worked its way back between her legs. “I’m very thorough.”

Her eyebrow arched as she clenched around his finger, her hips pitching up off the bed. "Yes you are, Detect - oh -”

A second finger pushed inside her, and she heard the shuffling sound of his belt being undone, followed by the rasp of his zipper.

"You’re pretty tense here too, Counselor," he says, his voice low.

She can sense the smirk on his face just from the low, teasing tone of his voice, and she shivers with pleasure. Shifting up to her knees, she backed up against him, her bare ass rubbing against the front of his boxers and the hard ridge of his cock.

"Think you can rub that out too?" She smiled and turned her face to the side as he shook his head.

His hips jutted forward as she pressed against him, and he let out a light chuckle as he stopped touching her just long enough to remove his clothes. “Naughty.”

She hummed in agreement, smiling into the pillow as he returned to stroke her slowly. His cock slid between her legs, bumping against her clit and drawing out a shudder and a soft sound. Her legs spread further, her hips rocking back as he teased her. Her back and shoulders felt much better, the tension in them eased, but a new ache was building elsewhere each time he hit her swollen nub.

Weaver’s hands grabbed her roughly, holding her by the hips to still her movement. She let out a frustrated growl which slipped into a sharp gasp as he brought his palm down on her backside. He rubbed the spot, flushed pink and warm, and then continued up her back, tracing the same paths he had earlier when he soothed her muscles. She groaned and arched her back as she tried to push back against him at the same time, the contrast between the looseness of where he touched her and the burn inside where she wanted him made her head spin.

He drew his hands back, her skin silky from the lotion, and gave her another light spank. Her fingers curled against the sheets, nails scraping lightly as she bit her lip. The sting was a pleasant, prickly heat, a sensation she had felt in a long time. A part of her wanted to urge him to keep going, until she was shaking and crying out for him, but there was so much still between them that held her back even now.

He seemed to know that was all she could handle, and a moment later her legs were pushed apart by his knee, spreading her wide. She tensed at the first push of his cock, the head just breaching her entrance, teasing her with the idea of being stretched and fucked.

"Ian..."

A spark ran through him at the sound of his name, and he inched forward, thrusting into her in one long, slow stroke. She gasped when he hit the end of her and started to draw back, her breath catching on another gasp before he pushed back into her hard. Everything was tight and hot, and he groaned as she started rocking her hips back against him, begging him to move.

His thumbs rubbed little soothing circles on her lower back as he started a slow, steady rhythm, filling the air with the wet sound of their bodies moving together with the backdrop of the music from the other room. He drew his fingers down, brushing over the cleft of her buttocks, and she squirmed, flexing her pussy around his cock. She claws at the sheets as his does it again, panting and pushing back against him.

"I could..." he started to say, circling her ring with his fingertip. "If you want..."

He couldn’t complete the thought, the feeling of her fluttering around his length almost too much to bear.

"Yeah," she squeaked, with a thrust of her hips against his hand, against his cock. "Please."

He pulled out of her and leaned to the side, fumbling with the drawer on the nightstand to retrieve a small bottle of lube. She tried to slow her breathing, but even the sound of the lid snapping open had her pulse thrumming as she stayed there, bent over on the bed with her arse in the air. The bed shifted as he moved, and then there was a warm slickness between her cheeks, and his fingertip spreading it over her. She tried not to move, to fight the urge to force her hips back as he worked his finger inside with achingly slowness. Pressure gave way to pain which gave way to a fullness she hadn’t experienced in so long, and she let out a long, low moan.

Weaver was being as gentle as possible, waiting after each small bit of his finger slipped inside her arse for the little impatient wiggle that told him she was ready for more. Finally, when it was fully in, he turned it carefully, pulling back and stretching her before he pulled it back part way.

"Okay?" His voice was strained and he clenched his jaw at the tight, warm feeling of her flexing around his finger.

"Yeah," she whispered.

He took his cock in his free hand and eased himself back inside her pussy, groaning as his hips met hers.

"Fuck," he groaned, thrusting once to test the waters. “Tell me."

Belle took a breath, exhaling it slowly as he started to move, the rhythm between his finger and his cock just disparate enough that she couldn’t do anything except let herself feel everything that was happening.

“Belle -”

"Yeah,” she answered quickly. “Good, really good."

She started working her hips harder, encouraging him as he slid his finger almost all the way out of her ass, and his cock out of her pussy, only to push them back in, a little bit harder each time. He held onto her hip with his other hand trying to steady himself as his eyes rolled back, feeling his finger press through her inner walls, creating another sensation along his length.

Belle pushed up on her hands, and gasped out a shaky curse. She pushed her hips up against him, and he thrust harder into her, a warm rush of pleasure washing over her from head to toe. She tightened around him, crying out with each movement, her legs and arms beginning to quiver as the tension grew in her core.

"Oh fuck..."

The sound of her voice was louder than expected, and she bit her lip as she slammed her hips back against him. The pressure of his finger amplified the friction from his cock, letting her feel every inch of him, and every time he bottomed out inside her, a little squealing gasp was forced out of her. Full and stretched, she tried to keep up with his movements, but then her arms gave, and she turned her head to the side, resting it on her folded arms as he fucked her to the threshold of a blinding orgasm.

The twinges along his cock was driving him spare, and through gritted teeth he managed to slip his free hand around her hip and press two fingers against her clit. She came with some kind of groan and a bit of a squeal, a delicious sound he’d never heard her make before, but knew he’d love to hear again. Bracing on the bed, he pulled his finger out of her arse as he thrust one more time and came buried inside her, his thrusts slowing along with the twitch of her inner muscles.

They collapsed together on the bed, quiet save for hasty breaths and the lingering thrum of his heart in his ears.

"Damn," she sighed.

He smiled and kissed her shoulder. “Yeah.”

They cleaned themselves up, and then moved back to the bed in silence. He sensed there was something Belle wasn’t saying. She stretched out on her side, facing away from him, and he slipped into the bed, shifting until he was right behind her without touching her body with his. It felt much the same as it had that first night, when she’d woken up in a fit, scared of every shadow. She’d needed him close then, but he didn’t know what she wanted now.

“I told Archie,” she said quietly, “about the miscarriage.”

He felt the breath rush out of him and his throat tense, but at the same time there was relief in knowing what had been bothering her for the last few days. She moved, inching back towards him, and he reached out to pull her against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and felt her squeeze his arm where it lay around her torso.

“Okay,” was all he could manage.

Belle swallowed. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his face rubbing against her hair. “S’good. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Weaver’s arm tightened around her, and she felt his lips against her neck and then her bare shoulder. She’d managed to say the words twice in one week, and, strangely, it seemed to help. Perhaps tomorrow she’d call Archie and see if he was available on Tuesday. Maybe it was the intensity of the sex or the fact that she’d finally told Weaver what had been bothering her, but her body felt more relaxed than it had in months. As she breathed out, it felt like something more than just air left with it, something that maybe she didn't need to keep inside anymore.

[queenlists]

Lovin’ Jimmy

A/N: 51 followers? Are you kidding me?! Thank you to every one of you! I really appreciate it. Thank you to everyone else also! I love that you all enjoy the stories. Thank you for all of the support. Requests are always open ;) Just saying haha. But, this is a small love story involving Jimmy Darling. There is a small modern twist to it. I hope you all enjoy! ✌

Post date: 12/3/2019

Jimmy Darling.

Also known as lobster boy.

Also known as the wife finger banger.

Also known as my best friend.

Also known as the love of my life.

“I have another party to go to today.” Jimmy groaned into the phone. “Well, I’m going to head over anyway. Probably pass the time with Dot and Bette. We can have our time when you get home.” I suggested, pacing around my room. “True. I’ll stop by the store on the way home.” “Sounds like a plan!” I giggled, biting my lip. “Can’t wait. I’ll text you when I’m done. Bye, beautiful.” I waited for the call to end before jumping around my room happily. Jimmy wasn’t exactly the type of boy you bring home to meet the parents. My mom is not a fan of him. He had a reputation, especially because of the housewives and their all but innocent get-togethers. Am I bothered about his side job? Yes and no. Yes because this is not what he wants to do. He wants to get away from his carnie life and lead a normal life. No, because it’s one of the only ways he knows how to make money without feeling uncomfortable and also because that’s exactly how WE met.

-----------

“Ladies, I hired lobster boy!” my mom’s boss squealed. The other ladies gasped in unison as my mom rolled her eyes, cleaning off the beautiful marble countertops. “What’s a lobster boy?” I whispered to my mom while unloading the dishwasher. “It’s not what, it’s a who and he is some boy from that old circus ground.” My mom shook her head in disapproval. “The old circus ground that has those freakshows?” I cocked an eyebrow at my mom. “Yup! That’s the one.” My mom rolled her eyes as the ladies continued to squeal. “He’s in the back room right now, but he is our grand finale...” My mom’s boss kept on talking, but the grand finale thing was the last thing I heard before I shut her out, allowing my curiosity to get the best of me. “Mom, I have to use the bathroom.” I muttered, quickly walking towards the back room. I peeked inside of every room until I spotted a room, dimly lit with candles. I slowly pushed the door open to see a man around my age, laying on the bed watching videos on his phone. Hearing the creak from the door, he jumped up and paused his video “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think we were starting early.” “No, you’re fine! They’re not starting early. I was just passing by.” I explained, biting my lip. Nothing seemed odd about him. Two eyes. Two dark, handsome eyes. One nose. One cute little nose. One delicious mouth. I felt myself lick at my lips as my eyes lingered on his soft lips longer than anticipated. Two hands. The hands. He hid his hands from my sight causing my eyes to snap towards his. “I’m sorry. I’ll get going now.” I apologized, quickly closing the bedroom door. I lightly banged my head against the door, kicking myself for stealing a glance.

The party went on as usual. The ladies gossiped as they went to the back room one by one coming out with a pep in their step, they swam, they snacked, and they left huge messes for my mom and I. I never usually came to these little parties, but this was the first time lobster boy was ever on the menu. As the ladies came and went out of the room, I felt my heart break. I couldn’t understand why I was feeling this way towards someone I embarrassed along with myself. Once the party was over and the mess was cleaned up, my mom and I headed to the local diner with the money we earned per usual. Before sitting down, I noticed him. He had on black mittens and he was nothing but smiles to the waitress. “(Y/n), I’m going to the bathroom.” My mom patted my shoulder, walking towards the bathroom, doing a quick glance at the boy. I knew how she felt about him. He’s all she talked about on the drive here: 

“He’s no good”

“I’m so happy you didn’t meet him.”

“Never fall for a boy like that!”

“His mom oughta be ashamed!” 

I bit my lip as I walked towards him, sitting down next to him. He looked at me as I looked at him. “I wasn’t staring.” I blurted out, looking in those deep brown eyes. “Yes, you were.” the man sipped on his coffee. “I really wasn’t!” I gasped defensively. “But, you really were.” he chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to!” I emphasized, trying, giggling along with him. I slid my hand onto his mitten covered hands, squeezing gently. He stared at my hand in his before looking back at me. “I really didn’t mean to stare.” I sincerely smiled at him before getting up to find a booth for my mom and I. He got up, stopping me “My name’s Jimmy. Jimmy Darling.” “I’m (Y/n)!” I beamed, walking away.

Throughout our late lunch, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Jimmy nor could he keep his eyes off of me. My mom had taken notice of my eyes glued behind her and turned around. Jimmy snapped his attention elsewhere when his eyes met my mom’s. My mom snapped her attention to me before taking a deep breath, sitting her cup of tea down “I really hope you’re not making those eyes at that boy!” “Mom-” “I said what I said about that boy! Stay away. He’s only good for knocking girls up and leaving them just like every other man!” my mom huffed, looking out the window. My mom didn’t have great luck with men. My father left a bitter taste in her mouth and left her heart broken even years after. I took her bitterness with a grain of salt, shooting Jimmy a quick apologetic look. Jimmy winked at me, smiling. I melted right there, biting my lip before quickly looking to my plate as my mother looked back at me. The rest of our meal was silent. Painfully silent. “You ready to go?” I nodded at my mom’s question as we gathered our stuff. My mom slid the waitress the money along with a tip as I quickly slid Jimmy my number mouthing a quick “Call me”, walking out of the dinner. Before I could even get into the car, I had a text from an unknown number:

“Hey, beautiful. It’s Jimmy.”

---------

My days were spent sneaking out while my mom was asleep or at work to get onto Jimmy’s motorcycle or to hop into the family car to head to the carnival grounds that he lived at. The first few times were nerve-wracking and I always looked over my shoulder, but now I couldn’t care less if I was caught or not! Everyone at the carnival greeted me with kindness and respect. I found them to become great friends within minutes especially Bette and Dot. The tenth day I was over, it got dark really fast and a clown epidemic was happening, so my mom advised that wherever I was I needed to stay. The only time her fear worked in my favor. “My mom is scared of the whole clown situation that is all over social media. Apparently, a clown was spotted here. She wants me to stay wherever I am, so can I stay the night?” I looked over to Ethel who was brushing out her beard. “Of course! I read the same thing on the face of the books. I don’t want you kids getting into any trouble though. Door open, Jimmy!” Ethel warned. Jimmy smirked “It will stay open, but I don’t think you want it to. Might see something you don’t want to.” Jimmy joked, laughing loudly. Ethel gave Jimmy a look that wiped his smirk right off “Ma, I was joking.” Ethel rolled her eyes, continuing to tend to her beard. That sleepover was the first of many. We did everything together. Woke up together, ate together, hit the town together, showered together (on odd occasions), and slept together (not in that way!). When I had to make an appearance at home, we were constantly texting or on the phone with one another. We were stuck on each other. Like the best of friends were.

------

“Jimmy and I...we’re just friends.” I explained to Bette and Dot, trying to not make eye contact with the twins. “Oh, if you and Jimmy are just friends then Bette and I are second cousins!” Dot rolled her eyes, shaking her head in annoyance. “Well, I think you and Jimmy would make a fine pair!” Bette smiled at me, rubbing my hand gently. I sighed in relief as I hugged my two best friends. “Oh for goodness sake, (Y/n)!” Dot huffed. “You should let him know how you feel. The way you two get along. The way you two smile at each other. The way you two talk about each other when the other isn’t around. It’s all the beginning of a beautiful love story.” Bette sighed, smiling. “Wait, he talks about me?” My eyebrows knit together as I look between Bette and Dot. Dot smirked and looked away while Bette smiled, looking down.

I heard the crunching of gravel behind me “Hey ladies! Three of my favorite ladies at that.” I immediately got up, facing Jimmy. Jimmy winked at me before a wave of concern washed over his face “(Y/n)? You okay?” “You talk about me?” “I...I talk about everyone?” Jimmy shook his head in confusion. “You talk about me to people like I talk about you?” I questioned, my eyes searching his, my heart racing. Jimmy looked behind me to Bette and Dot for an explanation before he looked back at me still confused “(Y/n), I’m sorry, but I don’t know what-” “I’m in love with you!” I blurted out, interrupting Jimmy. “Oh my. It’s happening!” Bette gasped out loud. “Shut it, Bette.” Dot hissed. Jimmy’s mouth and eyes were wide open as he dropped the plastic grocery bags on the ground. He stood there frozen in place. Not a sound. “Say something!” I cried out, feeling the thick tension starting to suffocate me. Jimmy remained frozen in place. Frozen in time. My cry attracted more attention than I had hoped for. “Jimmy!” Dot hissed. I took a deep breath before pushing past Jimmy who grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. Our eyes connected, staring in each other’s eyes. Our chests heaving as our adrenaline wildly pumped through our bodies. Jimmy kissed me. The kind of kiss that closed everyone out. The kind of kiss that erased everything from your mind. The kind of kiss that was once in a lifetime. The kind of kiss that can’t be faked. The kiss of love. A kiss straight from a love story.

I don’t know how long we were wrapped in each other. All I knew was that I felt like I was spinning above the ground. His soft lips dancing with mine. His hands fit perfectly against my waist. Nothing mattered at that moment except for us. Nothing existed at that moment, but us. Jimmy pulled away slowly, his eyes still stuck on mine “I love you too, (Y/n).” My thoughts were interrupted by applause. I buried my face in Jimmy’s chest, hiding my embarrassment from the crowd of people that I forgot were there. “It was just like a movie!” Bette exclaimed.

-----

Jimmy and I have been together for half a year. Six months. Our relationship was still new. Still fragile. We didn’t have time for new challenges. I bit my lip, feeling the weight of the world just resting on my shoulders. Pacing. I couldn’t stop pacing. “Freaking out won’t make the test negative! Calm down!” Dot yelled. “Don’t yell at her now, Dot. It’s a life-changing moment. Even if it’s positive, everything will be just fine.” Bette smiled, trying to console me. The timer on my phone went off as I started walking closer to the plastic test, glancing to the twins before picking it up. “Oh now, would you just look at the test! Save the dramatic pauses for later!” Dot yelled, rolling her eyes and waving me to speed it up. ‘Shut up, Dot!” I hissed quietly, looking at the test. Plus sign. Positive. I’m pregnant. I felt nauseous. I felt faint. I felt everything, but happy. Jimmy didn’t want kids. He was scared that they would be “cursed” with the hands. I dropped the test on the twins’ lap before collapsing on the couch beside them in tears. “Listen, Jimmy won’t be mad over this.” Dot patted my hand gently as Bette stared at the test, tears running down her face as she smiled.

----------

“You’re what?!” Jimmy yelled, frantically pacing back and forth. “Pregnant.” I muttered. “No.” Jimmy shook his head, sniffling. “Yes. I’m pregnant.” I sighed. Jimmy looked at the test before sitting on the couch in tears. I sat on his lap, kissing away his tears “It’ll be okay.” “What if the baby has the hands?” Jimmy sobbed, holding onto me. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world.” I smiled at him. “I’m going to be a dad.” Jimmy laughed out. Jimmy gently pushed me to the side and ran out of the tent yelling “I’m going to be a dad!” I followed him, laughing until I spotted Ethel hand in hand with my mother. They both looked from Jimmy to me with their mouths wide open “He’s going to be a what?”