#nothin really happened with the reunion

[stillalittlelostngl]

Gojos new fits got me kicking my feet and gigglin

[janeyseymour]

hii!! im hoping you’re taking requests rn and if you aren’t it’s okay, but i really wanted to request this just incase you are taking them..

a melissa x reader where r takes mel home for a family reunion (they’ve been dating for a while and readers family is dying to meet mel). the readers mom has always been a bit uncertain about mel and a argument happens between the reader and their mom.. melissa (the overprotective amazing gf that she is) steps in to help the reader and stands up for her.

Hi! I took a few creative liberties here, I hope that's okay! Buckle up because this one is a lil angsty... oopsies!

Family Dynamics

WC: ~3.5k

“Amore,” Melissa sighs as she pulls on her signature leather jacket. “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“There is everything to be worried about,” you huff as you grab the hors d’oeuvres that that the two of you were assigned to bring to this family dinner. “They might be excited to meet you, but my mother can be… a lot. And she’s pretty… judgmental.”

“It’s nothin’ I can’t handle,” she tries to assure you. “Take a deep breath. It’s all gonna be okay.”

You do as she says, and then you bite your lip. “They also don’t know that we… that we’re an age gap couple.”

“Oh,” she frowns slightly. “Didn’t want to tell them that you’re with an old lady?”

“You know it isn’t like that,” you sigh. “It’s that I knew if I told my mom before she met you, she would already have thoughts about you, and you wouldn’t get a chance. It would be game over.”

“For me or for you?”

“Both of us,” you sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

You pull into the driveway of your childhood home, and Melissa looks over at you. “Hun, it’s going to be fine. I promise.” 

“Can we just sit here for a few minutes? I need a couple of minutes to get my bearings.” 

“You just tell me when you’re ready,” she tells you as you lean forward and put your head between your knees. She rubs your back soothingly. When you’ve given her the okay, she hops out of the car, opens the back seat to grab the appetizers, and then makes her way around to your side of the car. She opens the car door for you as she always does.

“It’s all going to be okay,” she tells you quietly. “And if you feel that we should leave, we can. But the longer we hold this off, the worse it’s going to be for us.”

“You’re right,” you mumble as you unbuckle your seatbelt and climb out of the car.

“It took you long enough,” your mother opens the door after you knock once. “I watched the two of you pull in ten minutes ago.”

“I needed a couple minutes, mom,” you sigh as you hug her.

“You act like I’m a monster,” your mother rolls her eyes before releasing you. She looks Melissa up and down. “And you are?”

“Mom,” you scold her.

“What?”

“This is my girlfriend, Melissa,” you introduce your girlfriend. “She’s a second grade teacher at the school with me.”

“I still can’t believe you became a school teacher,” your mother mumbles. Then she really looks at the redhead. “You didn’t tell me about…” she gestures between the two of you.

“Because it doesn’t matter?” you ask her. “Why should it matter? I love her, she loves me, and we’re-”

“You love her?” your mom raises a brow.

“I do,” you tell your mother. “And you’re going to play nice tonight, right?”

She nods, although she continues to look over Melissa.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kristen,” your girlfriend says cordially, and you can feel the way that she’s squeezing you hand. She’s silently telling you that it’s taking everything in her to be kind to your mother. 

“It’s Mrs. Y/N,” your mother bites out. “Well, come in, I suppose. Do you want a glass of wine? I don’t have to worry about serving an underage like I usually do with Y/N’s girlfriends.”

“Where’s Dad?” you cut in before Melissa can say anything- you know the age gap is a bit of a sore subject for her.

“He’s in the garage fixing his car,” your mother tosses over her shoulder as she heads for the kitchen.

“We’re going to say hi to Dad,” you pull Melissa away from your mother and head for the garage. 

As you enter the garage, your dad’s head pops out from under the hood of his car. “There’s my girl,” he grins as he wipes his hands on his jeans.

“Hi, Dad,” you grin right back. You hug him tightly.

He wipes his hands again on a towel before hugging you right back. As he releases you, he glances over at Melissa, staring at his car.

“You must be Melissa,” he chuckles. “Y/N mentioned that you would be gawking over my car.”

“I am,” the redhead takes her eyes off the car to give your father a firm handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Y/N.”

“Oh, none of that shit,” he laughs a hearty laugh. “You met my wife first, didn’t you?” he asks with a knowing look. “John.”

“Nice to meet you, John,” Melissa replies back, and you can tell that she’s a little less tense in the presence of your father. “That’s one nice car you got there.”

“It was my first,” he grins as he looks over his challenger. “I try to keep it in as nice a condition as possible, but right now it’s making a couple of funny noises. So I’m trying to figure out what’s going on and what parts I need to order to get it right again.”

“If you want, I know a guy,” Melissa offers with her signature smirk.

“I just might take you up on that offer,” your dad smiles. “You know anything about cars?”

“Enough,” she says with a shrug.

“You wanna help me look at it and have a beer?”

“You got Yuengling?” she asks.

You father practically beams. He nudges you with his elbow. “I like this one already.”

“I do too,” you grin. “While you two gawk over the car, I’m going to check if Mom needs any help in the kitchen… behave, you two.”

You kiss Melissa’s cheek softly before heading back inside, and you can already hear those two laughing about cars. You knew they would get along. 

“Need any help with-” you start to ask, but your mother whips around.

“When the hell were you going to tell me that your girlfriend is practically my age?!”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you shrug as you pick up a carrot and start shredding it for your mother. “She’s a great woman, and you would see that if you stopped judging people at a first glance.”

“It’s human instinct!” your mother argues. “That’s what we all do!”

“All I’m saying is,” you sigh. “Give her a chance. I love her. She’s a hell of a lot better than most of the girls I’ve brought home before.”

“When are you just going to admit that this whole ‘I like women’ thing is just a phase?”

“Mom,” you groan. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you: it isn’t a phase. I’m a lesbian. I’ve always been a lesbian, and I always will be.”

“We’ll see,” your mother sighs. “I’m holding out hope.”

“Dad’s fine with it,” you roll your eyes. “I wish you would come to terms with it too.”

The two of you finish prepping the meal in silence. You can hear your father and Melissa laughing loudly out in the garage as they try to fix the car. Then they’re quiet, and you get nervous. That’s never good- it definitely means they’re plotting something. Your dad’s head pokes into the house.

“Red and I are gonna take ol’ Bets for a spin,” he announces. “Smalls, you in?”

You look to your mom nervously, and she’s glaring at your girlfriend through the small crack in the door. “I really would rather you stay here. Dinner is almost ready.”

“Aw, c’mon Kris,” your dad sighs. “We’ll be back before dinner… we just want to see if we got it to stop humming!”

“You’re doing the dishes afterwards,” your mother tells him with a roll of her eyes. She pours herself another glass of wine.

“Yes, dear,” your dad says automatically.

“C-can I go?” you ask your mother hesitantly.

“C’mon, hun,” you hear Melissa’s voice.

You look at your mother again, who is giving you a warning look. 

“Oh, Kris,” your father tries to get her to ease up. “She’s been working hard, she helped you, let her spend some time with her old man and her girlfriend.”

“If you all aren’t back by the time dinner is on the table, we’re going to have issues,” Kristen tells you all. 

You practically bolt back out to the garage. “God, I don’t know how you do it, Dad,” you grumble once you close the door behind you.

“We make a good team for the most part,” your dad shrugs. “And all I have to say is: happy wife, happy life.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Melissa chuckles as she opens the car door for you.

“You take the front,” you tell her. “I ride in this all the time.”

“Thank you, hun,” the redhead kisses your cheek as she slides in. You climb into the back as your dad gets in on the driver’s side. 

“So, how long do we have?” your father asks.

“About forty minutes,” you sigh. “Please use the whole time. Mom is getting on me again.”

“About?”

“Can we not talk about it?” you request softly. Melissa turns and gives you a concerned look. “It’s whatever. I’m fine, I promise.”

“If that’s what you want,” your dad tells you. “So… Y/N’s told us a bit about you, but what else is there to know?”

You half expect Melissa to not answer or be as short as possible. She hates talking about herself. But instead, she starts to tell your father about herself. About Abbott, about the things that she likes to cook, how the two of you met, what you two like to do together… and it’s refreshing to see her open up. You find yourself holding onto her every word, despite the fact that you already know all of it.

“Now,” your dad turns to look at the redhead once he hits a stoplight. “I have to ask…”

“Dad,” you groan. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“I’m a dad. It’s my job to embarrass you,” he quips. “Why my daughter?”

That gets Melissa going. Her favorite thing to talk about is you and why she chose you. By the time she’s finished rambling, your father is giving her a knowing smile. And that brings you back to the house. 

“Well, that was a nice drive,” your father smiles. “And it even looks like we got the car to stop humming… well done, Schemmenti.” Your girlfriend just gives him a head nod and a smirk. He heads in a minute later, leaving you and the redhead to your own devices for a couple minutes.

“So?” you ask Melissa nervously as you get out of the car.

“Your dad and I get along great,” she tells you as she too climbs out of the car. “I can see a lot of him in you.”

“That’s what everyone says,” you chuckle. “I got my dad’s personality and my mom’s looks.”

“He was telling me how the two of you used to play catch or try to fix his car together… you sounded like a pretty cute kid.”

You shrug. “If I was with my dad, it meant I wasn’t with my mom.”

“Y/N! Melissa! Dinner!” your mom whips the door open, and she glares when she sees the two of you leaning against your father’s car- your head resting on Melissa’s shoulder.

Dinner is tense. Your dad makes it much less tense, but you can feel your mother’s eyes staring at the two of you as if you’re about to burst into flames at any second for being in love with each other. You hear the way she criticizes everything you’ve put your life into- your job, Melissa, even stupid stuff like the sweater you chose to wear to come to dinner tonight. Your mother gets her digs in about the two of you as an item while your father tries to soften the blow and get her to back down. She doesn’t and finally… you’ve had enough. She’s always been merciless when it comes to your partners, but she has the added fuel of Melissa being a significant amount of years older than you, and she’s just relentless.

“We’re done,” you throw your napkin down on the table. “I’m done. C’mon, Mel.”

“Oh, here we go again,” your mother rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “The drama that comes with having you for a-”

“The drama that comes with having you for a mother!” you don’t bite your tongue. “You’re the one who asked me to bring around Melissa, and then you have nothing but an absolute shit attitude! I’m sick of you criticizing every fucking move I make! So, I’m done! We’re leaving, and don’t expect us to-”

“You’re the one who brought around a cradle robber!” your mother spits out.

“Kristen,” your dad tries to cut in.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, Mom!” you shoot out of your chair.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vein!” your mother scolds you. And you would usually back down, but not tonight. You’re at your breaking point, after all of these years.

“I’ll say whatever the hell I damn well please!” you snarl. “I am a grown ass woman, and I don’t have to take any more of this shit! I’m done!” You grab your bag. “C’mon, Mel.”

Your girlfriend has wide eyes, and she looks terrified. You’re usually a quiet, mellow, laid back woman… she’s never seen you with such a fire in your eyes. “Hun?”

“I said let’s go!” you bark. Before she can reply, you turn on your heel and head out, slamming the door as you go.

Almost instantly, your father is out of his chair and following you. “Y/N!” he calls after you. “Sweetheart!”

That leaves your mother and Melissa sitting at the dinner table together. Now it’s your girlfriend’s turn to have a fire grow in her eyes.

“I don’t know where the hell you think you get away speaking to your daughter like that,” the redhead growls out as she grabs her bag. “Y/N is a wonderful woman with a great head on her shoulders, she is one of the best teachers we have at Abbott, and she has a heart of gold. If you can’t get over the fact that she loves who she loves, then that’s your loss.”

“What the hell do you know?” your mother folds her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been around the block a time or two,” your girlfriend says lowly. “I know a good mother when I see one, and I know a mother who is about to lose her daughter when all she can do is criticize every aspect of her daughter’s life. You’re going to lose her, and she might not regret it, but you will.” 

And with that, your girlfriend leaves your mother to sit at the dinner table alone and let her words sink in. Melissa comes outside to see your father embracing you as you cry gently into his shoulder.

“Hey,” your girlfriend whispers as she sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. Her and your father catch each others’ eyes for a few seconds, and they both silently convey how sad they are that this is how dinner ended up.

“I- I’m sorry,” you hiccup out as you turn to hug her. “I’m so sorry.”

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, hun,” she whispers as she takes you into her arms and strokes your hair. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

You nod shakily as you turn to face your father again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper to him as you practically fall into his arms. “I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“I’m sorry she’s being like this again,” he whispers. “Get home, have a glass of wine, and let me try to talk to her, okay? I’ll see what I can do”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble. “Okay. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” your dad kisses your temple and lets you go. He makes his way back into the house, and you can hear him telling your mother that they need to talk. Good lord. This was not how dinner was supposed to go at all. Although looking back on it, you suppose you don’t know how else it would go. Dinners with significant others usually go this way.

You had driven over, but with the emotional state you’re in now, Melissa guides you to the passenger side and helps you in before climbing into the driver’s seat and pulling off. 

“I don’t know how your father ended up with her,” your girlfriend tries to joke. She can tell that you aren’t in the mood though, so she shuts her mouth. She has a gentle hand on your thigh, and she’s humming softly, knowing it calms you down. Once you can finally breathe again and the tears subside, she looks over at you.

“You wanna talk about it?” she offers.

“I- I’m sorry that ended in explosives,” you apologize.

“That was like a piece of cake compared to my family, she chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

“She’s always been like that,” you whisper. Melissa turns down the radio and gestures for you to continue if you want.

“From the start, I’ve been a failure in her eyes,” you tell her quietly. “I was too quiet, I was too weird or silly… basically anything I did that was appropriate for my age was wrong. As I got older, it got worse. She criticized the things I liked to do, telling me it was a waste of time. I was too fat, and then I was too thin. She didn’t like my hair, she didn’t like my clothes. Any thing that I did was just wrong. And then,” you sniffle. “I told my parents I thought I didn’t like men. Dad… he was fine with it. You met him- he’s about as easygoing as it gets. But Mom… she was furious.”

“Oh, honey,” Melissa sighs sadly.

“I got the ‘It’s just a phase’ talk about a hundred times. The first time I brought home a girlfriend in high school, she about flipped her shit. That was the last time I saw Anna. Because with Dad away for a conference, Mom took it upon herself to drive me to a conversion therapy place.” You shake your head, remembering what that had been like. “When Dad came home the next week, he was furious. He drove up and got me out of there as fast as he could, apologizing over and over again for not being able to stop her- that he had no idea she was going to do that. That was the last time my dad took a business trip until I had moved out of the house- he was terrified it was going to happen again.”

“Amore, I’m so sorry,” Melissa whispers.

“When senior year rolled around, I told them I didn’t want to go for engineering like Mom wanted… I wanted to be a teacher. That was like World War three broke out. My parents almost got divorced over that one… Dad supported me, saying that I was making a good choice doing something I loved while Mom told me that I couldn’t have been a bigger disappointment to her.”

“You’re a great teacher- one of the best Abbott has,” your girlfriend tells you gently as she pulls into her driveway. “Your dad and I were talking about that earlier in the garage.”

“And that’s great that you guys think that…” you sigh, and your eyes fill with tears as you turn to look at Melissa. “But I… All I want is my mother’s approval. I want her love and affection. Do you know how shitty it is that the one person who is supposed to love me the most, the person I grew inside of, can’t stand a single aspect about me?” A tear falls down your face, and Melissa is quick to wipe it away with the pad of her thumb.

It absolutely breaks the redhead’s heart to hear those words tumble out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispers.

After a bit, the two of you make your way into her house, and you curl up on the couch together. You fall asleep to her heartbeat and her fingers delicately combing through your hair while the two of you watch your comfort movie. As she’s sitting there, your phone lights up on the coffee table in front of her. It’s a text from your father, and then a second text comes through from your mother.

I talked to Mom. I’m sorry for tonight. If it means anything at all, I already love Mel. She’s a good fit for you, the text from your dad reads.

We need to talk, is all your mom sends.

Deciding now is not the time for you to see that text, you had only just calmed down after a second round of tears, she flips your phone over with her foot. She shakes you gently.

“Amore?” she whispers. “I think maybe it’s time for us to head up to bed.”

You groan awake but nod. “Bed. Need you tonight.”

“I know,” Melissa whispers. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. Through it all.”

[cultofdixon]

Let me help, sunshine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Your anxiety toward your own self worth because of what’s happen to you, makes it hard to be a part of certain things. But he’s so in love with you that you never had to worry. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Limping / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

It feels like a fever dream. The good.

Y/N stood outside the burning prison holding herself as she shook from the blasts that forced her out of the bed she almost died in. The force from the blast also knocked her on her side, resulting in injury…

She’s been limping trying to find another from her group, or really shelter for that matter.

This feels like the start of the outbreak all over again. Struggling to walk through the destroyed earth and being mistaken as the undead. One too many accidents happened because of such.

The Claimers found her alone before Daryl joined them, even before Rick killed one of their own. He didn’t know Y/N was a part of them because their paths never crossed, and then again Y/N wasn’t…free. She was controlled that entire time, even when Daryl ended up with them.

He was relieved to find her alive. Relieved on an astronomical level…but it wasn’t a happy reunion. The two of them…

Daryl tried to check on her when he first saw she was with them. But this Len or Lenny guy blocked his way and glared at the archer.

“She’s been claimed, buddy”

The archer of course didn’t know what that meant but given her tense posture and the injuries that looked fresh, this group was one of the messed up ones. Or at least this guy that said such.

Their leader explained the rules. Whatever you see that you want, you say “claimed” then no one can do anything about it. Daryl instantly questioned why it was used on a person and was met with obvious looks that made his skin crawl.

“He won’t do nothin’ around us.” Joe laughs leading the way and the group started to walk.

Daryl wasn’t going to leave her and didn’t want to fight anyone in case they’d inflict anything on Y/N. Because little does she know…

When this group started to move and Y/N slowly faded into the back of the group, Daryl looked to the one who “claimed” her and given he wasn’t forcing her back beside him. He took that as his chance to talk to her in hopes no one notices.

But before he got a word in—-

“I’m glad you’re alive” Y/N whispers to Daryl as both felt that reassuring warmth grow in their chest, relieved that the other is still standing.

“Are you okay?” He whispers as she didn’t say a word but shook her head. She looks like a wreck. “You understand this claim nonsense?”

“I know if I just touched your arm, I will meet the short end of that stick”

Daryl wanted to help her given she seemed to be having trouble walking. But this situation with the Claimers only escalated.

This Len guy that claimed her, wanted to get rid of Daryl and decided to use their rules against him. Though it backfired on the guy and the leader in a way, preferred Daryl in their group. But when Len met the other end of a bolt…that brought up an uncomfortable situation.

“Can we claim what was his?” One of the Claimers stated and Daryl instantly stepped in front of Y/N covering her.

“Claimed.” He states and glared at those who even had the thought, which was most of them. Joe laughs a bit to himself and to Daryl’s eagerness.

“She’s yours, man. Even if she is kind of a dud” Joe continued to laugh and every fiber of Daryl’s being wanted to snap him in half, but given she doesn’t have to worry about any of them laying a hand on her. He could check their injuries at the next break they take.

But the next break happened in the middle of a road…where they were met with those who killed one of their own…that happened to be their family. Daryl did his best to intervene, even Y/N.

Then of course, violence was the only answer there.

It happened fast.

Rick taking out Joe, Michonne going after the Claimer keeping her down and the two going for the one on Carl. Daryl took out one of the Claimers on him as Y/N took down the other on the archer.

But the remaining Claimer knocked Y/N onto the ground, pinning her and the painful scream that ripped out of her when he applied all his weight on her already bad leg…triggered Daryl to full on football tackle this man off of Y/N and boy did he meet his maker.

Daryl went to check on Y/N but she wasn’t letting anyone touch her in the moment. He kept a respectable distance when they recuperated for the night and Y/N held onto herself for most of her avoiding eye contact from everybody. She was really wishing they didn’t lose the prison in that moment. Then she wouldn’t have succumbed to all the pain from the illness to her leg causing a lot of discomfort.

“Have you been with this group since the fall of the prison?” Michonne asked Y/N as she shook her head struggling to catch up to her pace when they walked to this ‘Terminus’ place. “Did you see anyone when you woke up? From the illness…”

“I heard Glenn, but I wasn’t quick enough to getting out. He wasn’t there anymore when I got out so there’s hope that he’s still alive”

“And knowing Maggie, she’s probably lookin’ for him” Michonne reassures whatever ounce of anxiety courses in Y/N’s mind when it came to the living status of their family.

Daryl glances back every once in a while to check on Y/N, making sure she was still behind them. She was getting slower and slower the more they walked endlessly.

And that only got worse after Terminus, and after the hospital…

The group was walking endlessly to a shelter that they have no idea exists. Everyone followed Rick’s lead and didn’t question it, but everyone was exhausted. Depressed. Mourning. It was just too much to deal with. Every break they took felt like it wasn’t enough and Y/N didn’t want to share anything on her mind when it came to her physical well-being. Meaning every thought of “just another five minutes” got shoved down and she found herself dragging her injured leg to avoid limping and stepping on it at times causing the sharp pain to radiate.

Her family took notice of the times she end up in the back and those who didn’t want to face the pain they endured mentally, they would stick with her and talk about it. She couldn’t just walk away, not that she would either. It was difficult to push her pain aside, literally.

“Why is he always looking back here…” Y/N whispers, catching Carol’s attention to look ahead noticing Daryl checking on them every now and then.

“You are always at the back. He’s checking on you. Making sure you’re still with us” Hm…

“It’s just…the deadpan look” Y/N shivered slightly a bit tense. “He’s a bit intimidating…and mysterious. But he’s kinda been like that always…just a bit more protective ever since reuniting…”

Carol may not know about what happened from the prison to terminus regarding her friends. But she knew why Daryl would be protective of Y/N.

The walking became rougher the more their group grew tired and dehydrated…Y/N started to think about staying behind. Because the stops didn’t last long but she found herself taking a while to get back up. Least her wounds weren’t bleeding anymore. The bruises lingered. Main thing being the limp and swelling…

Daryl couldn’t help the anxious feeling he got when the group started to pick back up after they had a break to look around their surroundings for food and water. He checked the group around him and then to the back…

No Y/N.

He didn’t want to rile anybody up and make everyone freak out, so he did his usual check around the group until he got to the back and once no one was looking he started to track back. It didn’t take long for him to find Y/N still sitting at the last spot they took a break at, she just thought it would be easier on them if she disappeared.

“Daryl…” Y/N frowns watching him kneel down to her noticing how bad her leg was and mentally beating himself up for not taking care of it sooner. A lot happened, there wasn’t a big enough window to take care of it. “You shouldn’t be here”

“Oh yeah? And you should?” His anger spilled into his tone with a hint of regret. “Why didn’t yea holler for anyone? Or me?”

“Thought it be easier…” Daryl gave her that same deadpan look that made Y/N now sigh because of the situation. “For me to just. Not hold y’all back”

“That ain’t right. Ain’t right one bit” Daryl scoffs trying to help Y/N up but she smacked his hands away for a moment. “Y/N.”

“Daryl just go. Seriously.” She frowns. “I don’t want to hold anyone back. That’s why I just told a few of y’all that I’ll catch up…”

“But you weren’t. And yea didn’t even tell me that. Since yea knew I would argue…well I’m gonna fucking argue” He sets his crossbow down turning himself around and patting his shoulders for her arms.

Y/N was confused. Confused as to why he cared so much. But she complied as she was too exhausted to try and defend her point in any way. What even was there to defend? She didn’t want to be the burden that she currently was and didn’t want to hold the group back. Daryl got that but every fiber of his being would scream if she wasn’t with them.

The retired sheriff gained suspicion when both Daryl and Y/N weren’t around him. But when he turned toward the back he saw the two. Daryl carried Y/N on his back as she had his crossbow on hers. He sighed a bit relieved before continuing further.

All this walking…made the suspicion thing of water magically appearing, very appealing.

“You think it’s poisoned?” Carol questions Rick as he shrugs, still not trusting it though.

“Someone is watching us”

“So we shouldn’t trust it” Sasha states watching Eugene instantly go for a bottle and the moment he opened it, Abraham smacked it out of his hand. “Seriously?”

“What?! Someone has to test it for poison”

“Should’ve been me” Y/N scoffs. “I doubt imma last much longer on this leg”

“Stop.” Daryl couldn’t help but be upset by such as he blocked her from going over to it. Even if she wasn’t going to.

Then a miracle happened, or a coincidence, whichever you believe in…when the rain started to pour. Few started to open the bottles, empty them and fill it with the rain. Others enjoyed the downpour…and those who’ve lost took it all in

Y/N still kept close to Daryl, this time for warmth but she felt uneasy…nothing changed with the physical feeling but something pained her chest as she looks up at Daryl noticing the sadness that radiated from his blank expression. She took a chance by gently interlocking her fingers with his as he instantly brought his attention to their hands before looking at her.

“I’m gonna be okay, Dixon. I have you”

Her words struck him down, while the rain actually made her fall down from slipping. A small laugh was shared even if that drew more worry from Daryl’s end.

The two have been close and the time from the Claimers to the barn being told about this new place that they could call home brought them closer. Now the group was being evaluated to be helpful around the community, they took their chances with it. With caution of course.

“How’s your leg?” Maggie asks Y/N once she got settled on the couch, after being told to stay out by both Daryl and Rick.

“The surgeon guy they have said I won’t lose it but I have to stop walking on it”

“And yea better listen” Daryl was quick to add bringing himself to the window behind the couch sticking close. Maggie let out a small laugh to his response but she knew he cared for Y/N.

It’s been a day and a half with being in this new community and Daryl kept to himself for the most part. Sticking outside on the porch of Carol’s on the side that connects to Rick’s. He would look in the window every now and then to check on Y/N making sure she stayed put. She slept for the most part given she didn’t let herself sleep when with the Claimers and during the illness she was afraid to. Finally not dealing with any threat she thought it would be okay and she was being taken care of so nothing to worry about.

Reg, Deanna’s husband, made his way over to the Grimes’ residence when most of them were out and Daryl instantly shot up from the porch when he got to the steps.

“Heard y’all had someone with a bum leg. Thought I’d bring these over” He states pointing out the crutches in hand. “We found them a while ago but knew Pete didn’t want your person using them immediately.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna give them to…?”

“Y/N.” Daryl brought himself to the Grimes side and took the crutches as Reg smiles in his direction when he didn’t return it back. “Her name is Y/N”

“She’s important to yea, huh? I can tell” Reg smiles with a laugh followed as Daryl felt a twitch of a smile that he did his best to hide.

“I uh. Better get these to her…”

“If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask” Reg adds while taking his leave as Daryl watches him go to make sure he was gone before going inside the house.

The man always manages to sneak up on everybody, but to his surprise Y/N wasn’t asleep and gave him a smile the second he walked in.

“You shower yet?” She smirks listening to him scoff instantly. “Carol made me ask next time you came in to check in on me”

“You know I’ve been checking on yea?”

“You are sneaky, but not that sneaky” Y/N smiles bringing her legs off the couch patting the space next to her. Daryl approached at first because of the discomfort that grew on her face when she moved her leg, but then sat with her when she relaxed once more. “Those for me?”

“Nah they’re for me” Daryl jokes, a bad one, but it got a small laugh from Y/N. “The swelling down?”

“Yes. Not completely but enough to move around I guess…” She carefully brought her leg onto the coffee table showing Daryl as his worry poured out of him but in his own way. His eyes said everything. “Daryl, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm”

“Why…why were you so upset when I told you to leave me behind? I didn’t…if this place never came, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a burden to you all”

“And I can’t live in a world without you” Daryl without any hesitation admits a hidden feeling that Y/N, of course, didn’t connect that at all by everything he’s done. But it made sense…

“Daryl…”

“I wanted to go back in, when that son of a bitch attacked the prison…but Beth dragged me out. Tellin’ me you’re still alive. I believed her, but I was angry” Daryl frowns keeping his eyes onto his hands as he messes with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. “I would’ve been angry forever if I let yea die in there…then those fuckers had yea. Hurt yea…and thank fuck they met their end, for ever laying a hand on you. But it just got worse and you were hurting the entire time that I just. I just needed to control one thing just for a moment…to keep you around…so I’d understand if yea don’t feel the same way or anythin’. But I’ll always do my best to keep yea around. For everybody, for myself, and for you.”

The immediate silence gave mixed signals to Daryl but before he could even have the thought of getting up and giving her space. Y/N gently brought her hand to his, letting him carefully take hers.

“I know you’re serious about your feelings…Im a bit…taken back…because I’ve never been a first choice or whatever. I’m not the best at explaining my feelings”

“Neither am I” His thumb rubs circles against her hand feeling her squeeze his hand while a soft giggle escapes her lips.

“Yeah, but at least you said something” Y/N smiles warmly. “Because let’s be real. Rick or Carol or Maggie—-literally anyone in our group. Would’ve probably had to lock us in a room together to get one of us to say something…if my anxiety of being locked in places didn’t kick in” he hums for a quick response taking in her words.

“I thought I scared yea. That’s why I didn’t say nothin’ sooner”

“Mm. You are intimidating, but I was more afraid of being rejected more than anything”

“So…”

“It’s mutual, Dixon” Y/N continues to smile leaning into his space pressing her lips against his cheek as his eyes closed to impact, and he found himself leaning toward her when she pulled away. “We’ll take it slow, Daryl. But to reassure you…I’m yours and no one will change my mind”

Daryl exhales finally letting that weight of possible rejection go as he turned entirely toward her releasing her hand and gently brushing the loose hair out of the way of her beautiful face. Admiring every feature for a moment.

“Will you let me finally help yea, sunshine?”

And so she did.

It took a few days to get used to walking without the help of crutches or her family hovering whenever they got the chance. Y/N was given a pantry job like Olivia which made it easier for Rick’s plans and Daryl got close with Aaron so he’s been planning a run with him while also building a bike. Which lifted his spirits when in this place, beside her of course.

“Hey!”

Daryl quickly turns to the voice after turning his bike on and tried to fight back the smile that succeeded in shinning through when Y/N made her way over to him without too much of a struggle.

“Hey…how’re yea feelin’?”

“Better. Going on a test run?”

“Yeah, ain’t letting yea on it until I know it won’t fling yea off without me knowing”

“So considerate” She laughs followed by a smile. “Be safe. Can’t have you limping”

“Mhm. I will…and even if shit happened, I know I’ve got yea”

[moethewriter]

Could u do 14 for that dialog prompt with finnick? I'm picturing district 13 reunion angst. You're an amazing writer!!!

Hello! Of Course I can! Thank you for the kind words anon! -- TITLE: Nothin's Gonna Harm You, Not While I'm Around ... WORD COUNT: 1.1k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: Mentions of violence, injury and torture (Nothing super extensive but it's there TAGS: Lot's of angst and introspection lol! SUMMARY: You couldn't look at this face, you knew it would break you. A/N: Thanks for another request! I very much appreciate it! This one is definetlely angsty, and since it's me tons Y/N being in their head and analyzing the situation. Of course I always take construction criticism so please feel free to leave it!

You stayed still, as the doctors surrounding you poked and prodded, checking over every aspect of your person. You knew this was protocol, you knew it was necessary … to help you, or even heal you. But this wasn’t helping. You were exhausted, and just wanted a shower. But above all you were frightened and in pain. The Capitol hadn’t been kind after you had been taken, in fact they were violent and you wanted to forget it all.

You were scared. 

The rescue hadn’t been the smoothest operation, The Capitol sparing no expense to keep you, Johanna, and Peeta in The Capitol. People had died, you could have died but you didn't. You had to put faith in the plan, the one that Haymitch Abernathy had explained, That Plutarch Heavensbee and District 13 had concocted. But that didn’t mean you were okay, that didn’t mean that you were ever going to be okay again

. 

When you had woken up in the Capitol instead of in the arms of Finnick, you had been horrified … You knew there was no escape, no way you could get out, despite ruminating on ever plan to get yourself and your friends out. 

The realization that you hadn’t been rescued from the arena had set in after listening to Johanna’s screams. But you couldn’t place the blame on anyone, you had all separated in there and Katniss was the face of the Rebellion, she needed to get out, they needed to save her before anyone else … The Mockingjay.

You could take some Capitol torture, is what you had thought, after all they had tortured you and Finnick for years after your games.

You winced, as a bright light filled your vision. The Doctors were shining a device in your face.. 

“Cognitive function, still good.” 

You wanted to let out the bitter laugh you had been holding back, but you couldn’t bring yourself too. Your brain was all there, of course. The Capitol and Snow hadn’t taken that from you yet.

Pain filled you, as one of them touched your leg firmly, feeling around the broken skin, the sores and blisters that hadn’t been quite allowed to heal yet. 

“Leg Injury is severe but it’s nothing that won’t heal.”

Right, you remembered having to be carried out of your cell by someone. You had always been quick. That’s something that saved you during your games. You had been fast, quick to hit and quick to run before someone could see you, like a phantom in the night. The Capitol … Snow had made sure you couldn’t run this time. 

“Not like the Mellark boy, she’s safe.”

Your head shot up at the mention of Peeta. You knew that if they rescued you, that Johanna and Peeta would be as well. But … What had happened to them? Fear laced your thoughts, weaving into your mind like a virus. They hadn’t been kind to Johanna, you could hear her screams from your cell … was she safe? 

You looked past the shoulders of the doctors, vision slightly blurry, trying to find your friends. You could see Johanna fighting back, she had always been feisty, you were glad that the Capitol didn’t take that from her. She was pissed, you could tell just by her face. You couldn’t blame her, either. 

Were you really safe?

“Can you tell us your name?” The female doctor asked, gently. She was clearly approaching this with some sense of tact.

Bile rose in your throat, as you shrunk into yourself. “Y/N L/N.” You whispered, voice hoarse, and throat raw. 

“You’re in District 13, you’re going to be okay.” The woman doctor said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You flinched back, violently, despite her gentleness.

“I know you’re frightened but it’s alright.” She spoke again

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe her. 

Nothing felt alright, in fact this whole situation had been fucked from the start, from the reaping to the escape plan … Nothing had gone right. 

“Y/N!? Y/N?!”

You knew who was calling to you. Finnick. But you weren’t sure if you even wanted him to see you like this. You felt broken, you barely felt like yourself at this moment, but you knew that he would fight his way to you. He always would. 

You sank desperately into your bed, shrinking as small as you could sniffling like some coward, or at least that’s what you felt like. 

He found you, after a while, of course he did. He would always find you, and he wouldn’t give up till he knew you were safe.

“Hey.” You could feel his presence crouching down beside you, his voice so quiet.

“Hey.” You whispered back, voice breaking as everything that had happened finally seemed to weigh down on you.

Finnick had always had that effect on you, always able to break down your walls with a simple word. 

You could feel him moving, and then his hand was on yours. You violently wretched it away, on an instinct, almost throwing yourself away from him. 

“Y/N” Finnick whispered, voice cracking.

Tears trailed down your cheeks, hot and salty, burning the small wounds on your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you didn’t want to see the heartbreak written across his face. Finnick had always prided himself on being a good actor, pretending to be The Capitol darling, but he was never able to do that with you.

The Capitol hadn’t broken you, but seeing Finnick hurt … you knew that would.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I would never hurt you.”

You let out a loud sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You needed him. His arms wrapped around you, and you allowed yourself to sink into the comforting feeling. It was different, everything was different now but he was still Finnick and you were still you. 

“God Finnick I-” 

You didn’t even know what to say.

“I know.” He said, pulling you into his chest. “I know.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, crying, and allowing yourself for the first time in weeks to be comforted by the person you loved. 

“I’d burn this world down for you, and Snow is going to be first.” He said, voice rough, rocking you in his arms. “The Capitol doesn’t know what’s coming to them, they hurt you and I can’t let that go. I won’t let that go. They’re never going to hurt you again.”

“As long as you come back to me.” You sniffled.

He kissed the top of your head.

“I will always come back to you.”

And you desperately hoped, with every bit of strength you could muster, that his words were true.

[biblicallyaccuratebrainrot]

Family Reunion; Part II

Dad!Stanford Pines x GN!Reader (familial)

After spending three decades to get your dad back, you find yourself in more grief than when you first lost him.

CW: Negligence, emotional distress, not proof-read

"Who are you?"

Three words that managed to take the form of a dagger and stab you right in the heart. You stopped dead in your tracks-- the breath in your chest never seeming to be relieved. It escaped in uneven bumps and a quiet gasp. You could barely process Stan grabbing Ford by the shoulders, shaking him, yelling at him. The kids rushed to Stan, and the stranger they'd yet to be introduced to, in hopes of ending the aggressive exchange.

A slow and gentle hand placed itself on your shoulder. You looked at Soos, who held a pitiful expression. Ford and Stan had stopped fighting-- the prior having slowly walked to you. You stared at him and expressed the pain caused by his question in your face. The tears of joy had quickly become tears of grief.

"I-- I'm sorry, [Y/N]," an apology-- but not a nickname of the many he'd assigned to you as a child. "I didn't realise-- you've grown up so much. For a moment, I forgot I wouldn't be coming back to my little kid,"

That was enough for you. You wanted to throw your hands at him and embrace him until he felt the lack of breath you'd been feeling. You twitched to move-- but stopped and stared down at his hand, which was extended for a shaking.

"Wh--?" You breathed out.

"--It's-- it's nice to see you again," Ford stated. "I hope we can rebuild our... relationship,"

That handshake invaded your mind. Escaping the basement-- the warmth of the shake slowly escaped your skin. Taking the kids to bed while Ford and Stan discussed the plan for the summer-- pins and needles repeatedly stabbed your hand and flexed your fingers. You wiped your hand on your pants, hoping to remove the experience.

"[Y/N]," Dipper broke the trance, "are you okay? You look... really, really distracted,"

"Huh? What makes you say that?" You tried to play it off.

"You walked us to the other side of the shack instead of the attic," Dipper pointed out.

"Oh,"

"Oh my gosh!" Mabel exclaimed. "You're our cousin! I just realised! This is so awesome!"

You chuckled. "Yeah-- I guess, now, there's no use in keepin' the cat in the bag,"

You redirected the kids and focused on getting them to their room. "It's official now," Mabel began, "you're the coolest cousin ever, [Y/N],"

"Well, you guys are my favourite cousins," you said. "Say, ah, could you two get yourself to bed? I-- I want to, uh--,"

"--We understand," Dipper interrupted. "We'll get ourselves to the attic,"

You smiled at the two and they returned it before rushing off to the steps of their room. You take a deep breath and begin to slowly walk towards Ford's old room-- well, suppose it was going to be re-established as his room again.

You stopped and watched as Stan stormed out. His face was contorted with anger for a moment before his eyes landed on you. He relaxed and sighed.

"S-sorry kid," he stated. "Me n' Sixer pro'lly won't get along, ever. But, we're brothers! That sort'a thing always happens." He placed his hands on your shoulders. "Don't stress too much, you're his kid. You got this,"

You took in a deep and shaky breath. "Wh-- what if he doesn' want nothin' to do with me?" You began to cry. "I'm his kid, but I'm not a kid any more. What sort'a bonding are we s'posed to do!"

"Hey! What did I just say?" Stan stared at you sternly. "Don't stress it! You two will find a way-- you have to!"

You sniffled and wiped your tears on your shirt. "You're right," you croak. "Okay. You can go back to being grumpy-- this emotional stuff is freakin' me out," you joked.

Stan smiled and chuckled. "Don't gotta tell me twice!"

You two parted ways. You took in a more steady and confident breath of air before appearing in the doorway of Ford's room. You made eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. He paused his movements to process you before he turned awkwardly to properly face you.

"[Y/N]," his volume was low. "H--uh, how.. are you-- how are you doing?"

You lock your hands behind your back and take careful steps into the room. "I-- I am, okay," you respond. "How are... you?"

"I've been worse," Ford chuckled. "I'm not stuck fighting for my life in another dimension-- so, that's a plus,"

"Cool, cool." You bob your head. "Uh-- well, th--this is--? This is weird, right?"

Ford smiled and approached you. "Ah, yes, I was hoping you'd say something," you almost felt relieved with his words. "It's been such a-- a long time since we've seen each other. I've missed... everything,"

"Right! So-- so we should--!"

"--I will make it up to you!"

You froze in place. Your eyes darted around a moment. "What?"

"Holidays, birthdays, life events," Ford listed happily. "How old are you?"

"Uh--? I-I'm 38-- why--?"

"Well, the numbers for the cake of course!" Ford laughed, turning back to the mirror. "We'll celebrate what we missed-- when I have time, of course,"

"Ah--?" The words were still stewing. "Y-ya'know I-- I was thinkin' maybe we could just... what do you mean, when you have time?"

"There's a lot of clean-up to be done since the portal was re-opened," Ford explained. "Not just the pieces of the portal in the basement-- but the fabrics of reality!"

"W-Well, okay, yeah-- I knew there'd be, ah, consequences with the whole portal thing," you tried to be understanding. "But-- but, I don't think we need to celebrate anythin'-- can we just, talk?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" This time the words cut you right in the throat. The immediate aggressive response that came to mind never made it to tongue. "How are we supposed to bond over a simple meeting? Trust me, [Y/N], we'll be father-child bonding in no time!"

Rather than blood spill from your throat, everything you wanted to say went to the floor. You stared at his reflection in the mirror, jaw-dropped. He was still wearing his cheery smile while adjusting his jacket and turtleneck. Your hands had brought themselves forward and your fingers twisted into one another.

"Sure." You croak and turned away.

You found yourself fleeing the room. Quick steps dragging the rest of you out of there like there was an immediate danger to be avoided. Your thoughts raced through your mind in a similar manner. Every way that interaction could have gone-- everything you could have said-- everything you didn't say-- and worse of all; everything he didn't say.

A million questions were asked in your mind while you jammed your fingers into the vending machine keypad. Each step answered a question but left a thousand more in its wake.

You released a deep breath as you fell down onto your hammock bed. Every thought and question stored and thrown around your mind was released with that breath. A silence only broken by the ringing in your own ear.

You brought your legs up to your chest and wrapped your arms around your knees. As far as anyone knew, the silence in the basement was never disturbed. Not by the loud creaking of the vending machine door, not by the loud steps being used, not by the sound of the hammock nor the deep sigh, and certainly not by the sounds of suppressed sobs.

______________

》 END

[saturnzskyzz]

This is mainly a ficlet until I write more of the actual fanfic about this show.. I have so many ideas, it's insane.

Family reunion

Lee: Ben

Ler: Bumpy

Summary

Ben reunites with Bumpy. As both were excited to see each other, bumpy couldn't help her excitement. Let's say that Ben gets a tickly warm welcome.

Warning

Tickling

・divider credits・

Gray

Heartbeat

"Ah! Bumpy! I can't believe it, haha!" Ben says, excited to see his Dino friend, running around the open field not far out from Sammy's place.

Ever since their rescue from the stranded island, the gang had been off to do their own thing for a while. But since they all collectively decided to live on the island, where work was made to get the island "dinosaur free" in a safely manner, they've been collectively working on themselves, and what they were wanting to do and pursue for the rest of their lives.

But since the hunt; Ben, Darius, and soon Sammy, will have to get on the road before the "hunters" get to them.

As much as Darius and Ben were in a hurry-still hadn't told Sammy because of her cut-in small talk. They were dragged into seeing Sammy's surprise out back, near her little farm area.

And a surprise it was!

"Ah! Ahaha, Buhuhumpy! H-hohohold on now gihirl!" Ben giggled. He lightly tried to bat away Bumpy's face as she muzzled into Ben, who was currently laying on the floor due to Bumpy pushing him over in excitement.

"Awee! Look at them! I've never seen Bumpy happier until this very moment!" Sammy said, squealing in excitement. She stared at them in awe, filled with happiness that the two were finally reunited. It's been hard trying to get Bumpy all the way out to her home, but luckily she had managed.

"Wow! H-how did you do it, Sammy?! This is amazing!" Darius said, looking at her with a shocked expression.

"Oh, it was nothin'! As long as our dear friend is happy, there ain't no story to tell." Sammy said, smiling her worries away.

Bumpy made a sound of happiness, as she dug more into Ben's neck and chest, still trying to get the excitement wiggles out of herself.

"Ehehehaha! Ihihi'm hahahappy to sehehee you tohoo, buhumper cahar!" Ben gave Bumpy some loving pets to the head, as he tried to signal Bumpy to let up on the nuzzling because of how ticklish it was for him.

"Ohohokay girl! Thahat's ehenough- plehehease!" Ben tried to wiggle out of her grasp, momentarily causing his beanie to slip off his head-but it seemed that she wasn't letting up anytime soon. She knew that Ben was happy in this moment, and if her nuzzling is signaling her any sight of happiness from Ben, then she continued.

When Ben figured out that Bumpy wasn't letting up anytime soon, he settled to just wing it out until Bumpy was satisfied.. Unfortunately he doesn't think that's going to happen anytime soon.

As for Sammy and Darius, taking in the wholesome scene, they were both astonished by how happy the two seemed to be. Almost like they haven't seen them this happy in a long time..

"Ihi don't think I've seen bumpy this happy to see Ben before.. Nor have I heard that laugh from Ben in a looong time!" Darius remarked, showing a bit of empathy. Sure, they've had their fun before, where Ben would let loose and be himself, but it wasn't the type of happiness that he's been known to see as for when Ben is around Bumpy. He's really got a soft spot for the dinosaur..

"Guhuhuys, ahaha lihihittle help,, plehehease?!" Ben asked, overwhelmed of the situation now. He kicked his legs to accidentally show how much the nuzzling has gotten to him, as he still tried to get Bumpy to stop with the affectionate Nuzzling as he seemed that laying limp wasn't actually going to do anything.

"Ohokay! Okay! C'mon Darius, let's help the poor soul out of his ticklish agony." Sammy said, jogging up to Ben and Bumpy.

"Ohon it!" Darius halfly shouted out, now jogging up to them as well.

. . .

If you want to be tagged in any chaos theory fics, let me know! :]

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Journalist Reader

Gaz conducts a plan to set his Captain back up with an old flame of his. He'd hoped to recruit help from Laswell. However, the CIA operative wasn't as optimistic about this whole "reunion" as the Sergeant.

Fluff, Banter, Light Reading, Sappy Romance, One That Got Away Trope, Setting up Dates, Gaz just being an inquisitive sort, slight Character Study on Price

WC: 1.5k~

Prelude | Chapter One | Chapter Three

Masterlist

So I'm sorry to say that Price and the Reader are not in this chapter, as it is centered around Gaz and Laswell.

However, Price and the Reader are the topic matter of the entire chapter. I'm legit trying to tell a story versus it being kinda self-indulgent and smutty like my other stuff. However, we'll get there at some point, maybe 😏

Please Enjoy!

Chapter Two

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Kyle."

Gaz gives Laswell a slack-jaw look, though it does little to sway the CIA operative on her stance -- this was just something she would not involve herself with.

Of course, the Sergeant hadn't been content with a simple no. In fact, all day he's been at Laswell's side, his presence just around every corner, lingering a little longer each time. Anything in the hopes of finally convincing her to see some worth to what he was trying to suggest. After all, this plan wouldn't work without her.

Or... at least, he'd have to come up with something new if this didn't pan out, and that felt like more work than this. Though thus far, convincing her has only been an uphill battle.

"Oh, come on Kate," Gaz begins to whine, rather childishly, brown eyes growing deceptively puppy dog-like, a hidden talent of his, or rather a subliminal quirk. "You're telling me you can't help at all?"

Laswell sets her fork down beside her salad, knowing she wouldn't be able to eat how she'd like with the Sergeant still seated in her office. The woman had hoped she'd finally escaped him on her lunch break; the building was usually dead at this hour, seeing as the others were off contending to their own devices.

It had been the perfect timing to finally have a proper sit-down if you asked Gaz.

"I mean, really think about it," Gaz tries to explain his plan to the woman one more time. "We just throw a small little get-together, nothin' too fancy. All you'd be doin' is hosting, which is nothin' new for you. Then, we just invite them both over and simply... let things play out. Easy."

"Except you would be blindsiding them," Laswell says.

"Not blindsiding," Gaz retorts. "More like... surprising them. Look, it'd be doin' 'em both a favor I'm sure, yeah?"

"Look, it's not that I don't want to," she starts. "I just know it's a lost cause. Think of this as me trying to save you some time."

"Sheesh," he sighs. "That bad then, huh?"

"And then some, Kyle."

Kate gets back to eating the croutons she'd been picking through her salad for. She didn't want to ask when it was that Gaz would be leaving, however, she wouldn't complain if he did.

Gaz continued to leisurely spin in the spare rolling chair in Kate's office, sighing to himself in contemplative thought.

That bad and then some, huh? He thought. Gaz struggled to imagine a scenario where such animosity could exist between someone and the Captain. And yet this supposed relationship between him and you had existed, and the Sergeant couldn't be more intrigued by it.

"Well, what happened?"

"She cheated on him."

Gaz's mouth goes agape, his tone completely defeated. "No... really?"

Kate smirks. "No."

Laswell laughs to herself once she sees the sigh of relief the Sergeant releases. The woman's career revolved around secrets and lies. It figures her idea of fun would be pulling the Sergeant's leg.

Of course, the man's a good sport about it, chuckling to himself once he realizes it's a joke. For a second there, he really thought this had all been a waste of time.

"Seriously though," he says. "What happened?"

"To be honest with you, I still don't know," Kate admits. "Neither of them felt too up to talking about it when it happened. I just know that some kind of argument occurred, and they split up the following day. But I don't want to be the one to air out the Captain's dirty laundry, Kyle."

Laswell sinks back in her seat, thinking back on those days after the split. She had seen war slowly harden Price over the years, as it had done to all of them. For a while, he went through great efforts to try and keep a healthy work balance between that and his personal life.

Losing you had made something in him turn to stone, however. As though some other part of him had died, made up abundantly clear by the increase of his work. More eager to take assignments, less so to be home. Ops that had him away for months at a time became his favorite, and when those ops had finished, he went out to find more.

And by the time he'd become Captain, that time with his former lover merely became a bedtime lullaby for him, growing fainter by the years. No one ever really heard him talk about love again. Not until Gaz brought it up.

"So who was she anyway?" he asks. "Price said she was a friend of yours."

Kate chuckles to herself, seeing how observant the Sergeant had been in his conversation with the Captain. "That's right," she confirms. "A family friend."

"What was she like?"

"She was... is... a very interesting woman, to say the least," Kate sighs. "I can't really describe her; she was a lot of things."

"Not even a little?"

Kate thinks to herself for a moment, having gone through all the croutons in her salad now. "She was definitely a firecracker, always getting into some kind of trouble. She spoke her mind freely too. It didn't matter what it was; if a thought crossed her mind, at some point, you'd hear about it."

"Hmm," Gaz grins. "I don't know if that's what I was picturing. But, I guess I can see the vision."

"I was just as surprised," Kate says. "But... they stayed together for a long time. Six years, if I'm not mistaken."

Gaz's eyes grow wide at that fact. Longer than any relationship the Sergeant's ever been in. Though, it hadn't been for a lack of trying. Six years. That's not just enough time to know someone, that's enough time to be another half of them, at that point. Not a lifelong love, but someone who did once matter.

"So who shit the bed?"

"That would be John." Kate didn't even have to think about that one.

Gaz shrugs, having not been too surprised by that answer.

However, she then adds only seconds later, "Though... it's complicated."

"How so?"

"From my understanding, it hadn't just been an argument," Laswell says. "Honestly, I'd almost say life is what ended their relationship."

“And you really think she wouldn’t want to see him again?” he asks.

Kate pauses, short of an answer for a moment. It gives Gaz the drive to keep looking her in the eyes and pressing the matter.

"Why do you want this so bad?" she asks. No doubt, she'd been curious as to what it was that was driving Kyle to go into full investigation mode about this.

The man pauses, trying to come up with the right words to say, as he already knew his answer from the start.

Kyle thinks back on the Captain, and all the times he's seen him alone while the others had each other, wanting to be content with that. Adoring their love from afar, so he'd have something to warm him on his lonesome way home.

He thinks about that look Price had on his face the other day when he finally told him about this mysterious woman for the first time. As though he couldn't wait to talk about her again, given the opportunity.

"I just think it would be good for him."

Kate's expression softens at the Sergeant's words. Understanding that want he held to be there for Price. She's been there herself, many times before. And it makes her wonder.

She’s moved passed her matchmaking days, having tried to find Price a good match since she’s known him. Gaz’s determination to take up the mantle had been admirable to see, however.

The woman sighs, having finally been broken down by Kyle's stubbornness to not drop the subject.

“Look, I can help,” she says. “But if this backfires, I’m leaving damage control to you.”

Gaz practically jumps in his seat.

“Deal!”

Chapter Three Here!

I wanted this to be both character and plot development, so I can set up where this story is going.

The next chapter jumps back to 10 years ago, maybe a day or so after the last chapter. Price and Reader are going to have yet another cute encounter. It will be much longer than this chapter, hopefully. Stay Tuned!

~Also, I'm quoting a poem from Charlotte Erikkson - You're Doing Just Fine. I was gonna credit them at the end of the series, but I just wanted you to know so it didn't look like I was stealing their quotes!

@embers-of-alluring @quincessimus @urfavsunkissedleo @lacunaanonymoused @deadbranch @poohkie90 @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @random-thot-generator

If you don't wanna be tagged, please let me know! And on the flip, if you do want to be tagged for the next chapter, also please let me know! I feel super awkward tagging people unless they explicitly state it (I don't like to impose, I just wanted to tag people I thought were interested in the next chapter ���)

dividers from animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[yourpalmickeymouse]

Mickey helllo!! ☀️ how long has it been since I was here the last time? (The last time I asked you was… months ago haha!) I’ve been busy with my life and well, let’s just say a lot has happened to me! 😄

Okay enough about me, I wanna ask you something, it’s actually have to do about well. Your height (if that’s okay for me to ask!),

Do you get tired of being small? I can feel not many people would take you seriously for your size or would make fun of you height for laughs… (is it also a genetic thing in your family where your relatives are also the same height as you?)

But to me, I don’t think you’re small at all. Physically yes but I know deep down you have a big heart that would never stop trying to help the people they care and cherish the most! :D (that’s all I got Mickey, it’s great to be back here once again! I’ll be sure to stop by again pal!)☀️

Hiya Sunny,

It's swell to hear back from you again. It has been quite a while, hasn't it? Though to be honest, I've also been pretty busy with all these crooks runnin' around Mouseton. Sometimes it feels like they're tryin' to break a world record on the most amount of crime they can commit within a couple of months. It's real annoyin'.

As for your question... ha... I was wonderin' when this would pop up. Don't worry 'bout askin'. I love answerin' 'em all. 😊

When it comes to my height, I guess I could see why someone would see it as a flaw. To be honest, the world I live in doesn't always seem to have people of my height in mind. Outside of havin' a heck of a time gettin' a car where I can reach the pedals, I have to bring my own stool whenever I go to the market since whatever I want is always, always, on the highest shelves. It's real annoyin' at times. But there are benefits too. If anythin' I think it offers me a bit of unique perspective that not a lot of people get. Sometimes I feel like I can be a bit more agile and fit into places most others can't. Also if I can't find something I like in the men's section of the clothing store I can always go to the kid's section and find somethin' there, ha ha. The clothes are usually cooler there anyway.😉

I think with the right mindset, you can do anything no matter what size you are.

As for where it comes from, it's definitely genetic but also very random. My Uncle Jeremy is short like me and yet my sister and Aunt Melinda are tall. I guess it would seem only the men in my family seem to be short, but based on past family reunions, that doesn't always hold up. To be honest it seems to vary wildly in mice in general. Even Minnie's family can be all over the place. It kinda makes me wonder if there's a size fairy that goes around to all the baby mice, randomly decidin' whether to make them short or tall🧚. Ha ha, Wouldn't that be funny? Maybe I should see if they can make a last-minute change.

Though seriously, as I said before, my height doesn't really bother me. Or at least it doesn't now. I'd like to say that it hasn't caused me any problems outside of high shelves... but that would be a lie. As you mentioned, I've definitely been ridiculed or not taken seriously for my height sometimes. I feel like I'm constantly havin' to prove myself and show that I'm more than capable of doin' what someone a little taller can.

Sometimes there's an advantage in people's underestimatin' ya, at least when I'm fightin' bad guys. But when I was younger and had lower confidence, it would really get to me. I remember readin' or hearin' somwhere 'bout how you could grow real tall if you eat a bunch of yams. So I used my allowance to buy a ton of yams and started eatin' 'em all in one sittin'. Of course, it didn't work and all I got was really sick. But after a nice talk with my sister and my aunt, I learned that nothin' was wrong with my size and I'm fine just the way I am. A bit cliché, but a much-needed message I still keep close to my heart.

Talkin' 'bout hearts, I appreciate you sayin' I have a big one. I definitely do try my best when it comes to carin' about others and makin' the world a better place. And ya know what, I think that's what really matters. We can't pick our own size, but we can pick the size of the positive impact we make on the world.

Thanks a bunch for the questions. I hope to see ya real soon.

- M.M.

[peach-and-bugs]

Hi, I hope you are well, I fell in love with Nat's one-shot, so I was encouraged to ask for a request, well there are two that come to my head with different characters.

"Wow, you really never got out of your angsty teenage stage, did you?" with Teen Shauna (sorry it's just that you see those eyes and they bring back a lot of melancholy).

"Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" with Lottie (1996) and Lottie (2021). I think with this one you can play with flashbacks of seeing what happened in the desert and their relationship in that timeline in 1996 as a reunion in 2021 somewhat angsty.

Sorry the request is so long, although I would like to add that I can imagine both requests with f reader, anyway thank you very much for everything, take your time and take care of yourself. ❤️

💚Flower stems for heartstrings - Lottie Matthews (1996 & 2021) x fem!Reader💚

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: y/n finds evidence of her teenage best friend (and secret crush) being alive after all, and a possible way of finding her thanks to modern internet and goes on a personal quest to find her and the truth, all while reminiscing about their teen years...

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, fem reader that dresses both "masc" and "fem", underage drinking and smoking weed, extremely angst but with a good ending

Word Count: 8,758

A/N: woohoo! We've surpassed word count on my longest oneshot with this fic, the record previously being 6,990. And ngl, this might be one of my favorites to date! Lottie is an extra special gal who deserves an extra long one-shot, so of course I'm going to give her extra attention. What can I say, I'm not immune to favoritism. This one was actually so fun! I loved getting to write about excited, young (and medicated, let's be fr) Lottie bc I think we forget just how much the wilderness took a toll on her. She was so lively before, it makes me so sad. But, I hope I was able to give her a little bit of that liveliness back in this fic! I think in the request "desert" was supposed to be wilderness, but I wanted to have the reader be left behind, which adds a whole different kind of angst to the situation. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

You’d only ever felt the way you did now only twice before in your life. Once when word got around that flight 2525 had mysteriously gone down in flames with no trace, and once again when you learned she’s been shipped off to god knows where for some kind of treatment. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her then and she was gone. 

It was a sickly green feeling that had you kneeling over with weak knees and a stone throat. Lottie Matthews, the girl you’d had your heart set on for all of these years, wasn’t gone. She wasn’t locked away or dead like gossip has always said. She was alive and well and looked like she was thriving. And how did you find this out? Through Instagram, of course. That might have been the worst part of all of this. 

One minute you’re mindlessly scrolling through your feed when an ad for a farmers market in some part of upstate New York, rather than New Jersey where you resided. But the ad featured a booth selling honey, and low and behold, there she was. Well, the photo didn’t give a clear picture of her face, but you refused to deny that it was her, despite how it made you sick. How could you forget that smile of hers after all? 

You had to put your phone away after that, but it didn’t help you sleep. A few hours into staring up at the ceiling, restless with gnawing curiosity, you decided sleep wouldn’t come till you found an answer. Rather spontaneously you packed a bag and got into your car. Was this the smartest thing to do? Hell no, but you had the weekend off for work anyways, and nothing stopped you from going, so you drove through the nightstand into the morning and drove by coffee, a podcast, and the straining urge that you needed to know what was going on.

-💚-

At some point in the night, you found your mind wandering as your eyes trained on the empty highway before you, highlighted by your headlights. You reminisce a time long before, even more than 25 years ago. Back when you had been a freshman in high school during your lunch period. You moved to Wiskayok, New Jersey late in the year, giving you an even later start to your first year of high school. You’d relatively been left alone and had decided you'd be alright with that. Not everyone can have friends right? So, alone you sat outside on the school's field, picking at the grass underfoot having already finished your lunch. 

Some students around you sat on the track or the stadium's bleachers with their friends, enjoying company and comradery or whatever and you didn’t like to admit how it made you jealous. But what was there for you to do to change it? You refused to look desperate and walk up to random groups of people who would probably talk about how lame you are behind your back-

“Hey, you alright?” the sudden voice in your direction yanked you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. Looking up you had to squint your eyes to try and make out who was talking to you as the sun shone in your eyes till they tilted their head, blocking it. After some adjustment from the sunspots in your eyes, you were greeted with a shy yet warm smile. 

“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” you uttered awkwardly, swallowing the frog in your throat that had your voice croaking. The girl chuckled and tottered down to the ground to sit beside you in the grass. She dressed well, was one of the first things you noticed. Her pink skirt and tall white socks were very countering to your grass-stained jeans, scuffed hightops, and t-shirt. 

“You sure, because you’re all by yourself,” she said rather matter of factly. 

“Well, maybe I like being alone. Think of that,” she arched her brow curiously. “And as far as I know you’re alone too,” she chuckled again with a little huff. 

“Tuche,” was all she replied, but she had a stupidly shiny grin on her face. Next, she reached out her hand to shake. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. But most people call me Lottie,” you hesitated for a standing moment, only staring at her hand as you kept yours loosely wrapped around your knees till you gave in, shaking her hand in greeting. 

“I’m y/n,” 

“Well y/n, tell me about yourself,” she spent the rest of that lunch period at your side, asking questions about you in exchange for the little tidbits you were willing to give her. It was so strange, looking back now, how a because girl decided you looked lonely you'd be driving to upstate New York on a random Thursday night due to your desperation to find her again. 

Lottie had always been charismatic. She liked people. She looked at them like puzzles made special for her to figure out. Maybe that was her way of avoiding herself, or maybe she just had a natural curiosity for those she didn’t understand. But from that day on, she hadn’t left you alone. She’d excitedly greet you in the halls, and invite you out with her friends and to late-night parties. She was the one who integrated you into the community and helped you find a place. 

But she also became your best friend. However, you struggled to feel like you were hers sometimes. She was so bright and colorful, full of life and boy was she popular. She always had someone with her, unless she found the time for you exclusively, which dwindled more and more as high school progressed. Of course, this is a concern you could talk to her about but you didn’t want to bother. In truth, you feared your feelings were driven by selfishness. You thought you'd never voice it, but oh, how you undoubtedly adored Lottie Matthews. 

You felt her encase you when she was close and her laugh was enough to have you swooning. You thrived in her presence and basked in the littlest bit of attention she may offer you. Her touch was electrifying and when she grabbed your hand when she greeted you you felt what had to be magic. But of course, you could never tell. Sure, you knew you were gay and you were so fortunate that you’re mother said it was ok, but you’d never tell, ever. Even if the ache felt like it was squeezing you, you couldn’t lose Lottie. You didn’t want to scare her away and be a freak. 

Part of you wonders if that’s why you'd lost Lottie after all. You hadn’t been honest with her. No, that wasn’t rational. A secret didn’t take down an airplane. 

-💚-

You didn’t arrive till mid-afternoon, late morning, the sun high above as you made your way towards this market. They had their location posted online, so with a quick search and an input to your mapping app you were all set to go. Moments like that reminded you of how on your road trips with your mother growing up she'd have you read the map in the passenger's seat beside her, your finger tailing over the highways towards the little star sticker added on to be your final destination. Strange how so little time felt like it had passed since then yet a whole life as well.

Venders had been set up for some time now and enjoying the comfortable air as they mingled and shopped. You hooked a tote bag over your shoulder to look less conspicuous (although there inherently isn’t anything conspicuous about a middle-aged queer woman at a farmers market, still. You felt a need to keep a low profile). You wandered for some time, looking for a stall that said something like sunset honey, or maybe it was sunnyside. Something involving both the sun and honey, and it looked like the people working wore a lot of purples. 

Honestly, it was a very nice market in itself. Had you had ulterior motives for attending you would have quite enjoyed it. That is still you grew distracted by a florist’s stand. The owner had lovely premade bouquets that ranged in a variety of colors and sizes, but what caught your eye where the assortment of white and pastel metal buckets housing small assortments of different flowers, meant to be starters for gardening. In particular stood out the small purple flowers known for growing naturally back home, in Wiskayok. You tentatively reached out to stroke the petals. 

You hadn’t formally been invited to the party, but it was one of those words get around kind of things, she no one was actually invited, right? At least, that's what you'd told yourself as you got ready in your room, obsessively messing with your hair in the mirror. It was one of those beer-guzzling bonfire things that the seniors hosted on the outskirts of the woods now and then. This time, however, the justification was the girl's soccer team going to nationals, and after the whole pep rally earlier in the day, it did sound justified. 

You pulled back from the mirror to look back down at your clothes. You'd layered a black plaid dress with thin straps over a white sweater that’s sleeves cut off just below your elbow with tights and docs. You tugged at your coller, attempting not to grimace. Sure, you liked dressing feminine now and then, but when it came to events like this you couldn’t help the anxiety, especially with drunk boys. But still, you wanted to look nice, even if the drinks being served were from a beer keg. It just felt like one of those nights, you figured. You sighed and forced yourself to leave as there was a car horn honking outside, grabbing your backpack along the way as you went. It’d be good to have a quick getaway available to you if need be. 

“Have fun, hun! Make good choices for me, ok?” your mom called to you from the couch, watching one of her late-night shows while sipping tea and crocheting something as you went downstairs. You smiled, walked up beside her at the end of the couch, and kissed her forehead. 

“I will, mama, I promise,” you forced a tiny smile. She hummed her thanks and smiled, opening her eyes to take a look at you.

“Show me this little number you assembled for me,” she said, taking off her eyeglasses and gesturing up and down with her crochet hook as she readjusted in her seat to get a better view. You stretched out an arm, the other firmly holding your backpack to your shoulder, and did a turn around for her. She smiled wide and gave you playful applause. 

“Cute! And do you like it? Everything fits well?” 

“Yes, Mom, I promise,” you sighed, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. It was a new dress you hadn’t worn yet and you knew she was only doing the classic mom routine but you had to go!

“Alright, you go have fun. And tell your friend Charlotte good luck at nationals!” she called after you as you shut the door front door and locked it. You turned, illuminated by your porchlight, and waved to your ride. Van had the passenger window of Taisa’s car down and she waved back with a confident grin on her face. You could hear Depeche Mode playing on the radio as you approached the car. You opened the door and slid inside with a quick smile. 

“Thanks for the ride, Taissa,” you said, trying not to sound as shy as you felt. She smiled in the rearview mirror, checking her surroundings as she turned down the radio. 

“Yeah, no problem girl,” she said with effortless confidence. You didn’t know Taissa or Van, or much of the school's soccer team all that well, but in your mutual connection to Lottie over the past four years you’d tagged along with them quite often and they’d always been nice to you.

“We couldn’t say no after Lottie was so adamant we were nice,” Van joked quite loudly to Taissa, giving you an up and down with that grin again. You stared for a second, unsure of what she was trying to imply till Taissa smacked the goalie in the arm with the back of her hand, hissing her name to make her shut up as she started driving. The redhead let out an undignified yelp.

“She’s being an asshole. And confusing. Lottie wanted you to come and she knew we’d be the best people to pick you up is all,” you still had a confused look on your face, your shoulders hunched inward. 

“Um ok, thanks?” you said it more like a question. 

“What she means, is that we like you. And we’ll tell you we like you,” Van chimed in again. She wasn’t as helpful to you as she thought she was.

“Right, ok. Is there something else going on that I’m not cluing in on?” Tai and Van shared a knowing look. 

“Ok, so the other day Lot kept going on about how she worries that you don’t feel like we’re all friends, and doesn’t want you to feel like you’re just her other friend that tags along, ya know? So we figured we pick you up and tell you that, because some of the other girls on the team aren't the best at communicating, ya know?”

“Oh. So we're friends?” you sounded far more surprised and eager than you would have wanted to. “And Lottie told you all that? About me, I mean?” Van grinned once more, fully turning around in her seat. 

“Yeah, dude! I think you’re really cool actually!” you began to smile more than before and leaned back, straightening up your posture. 

“And, yes, Lot had all that to say and more,” Tai added on. You were thankful for the dark car hiding any color that might have rushed to your face. 

“She talks about you all the time,” Van blabbed on. Tai gave her a look that told the goalie to keep quiet now. Just as she did you pulled up to another house in the neighborhood that has Lottie sitting on the front porch. She shot up when she saw the car but took a last-minute look at the front door like she was waiting for something. Van maneuvered in her seat to hang out the window. “Hurry up slowpoke or we’ll be late to our party,” Lottie all but yelped and ran to the car after that, toward your side of the car. 

You didn’t have enough time to move out of the way and before you knew it Lottie had flung the door open with an exhilarated grin, laughing as she climbed in over your lap to collapse in the seat beside you in the back. She’d picked to wear all pink, which was just so fitting for her. You noticed in particular that she was wearing one of her shorter skirts that she giggled to you about hiding from her mother. 

“Shut the door and go!” she said through giggles, and once you had the time to process what was happening you did just that, closing the now-opened door to your right, and Taissa was off. Lottie lunged forward in her seat and punched Van in the shoulder, laughing all the while. “God, fuck you! I could have been caught because of that,” she griped as Van dramatically clutched her arm. 

“Ugh, what’s with beating on the goalie tonight? I gotta stay fit for nationals and I’ll be covered in bruises at this rate,” 

“Whatever. You’re always covered in bruises, and not all of them are from soccer,” Lottie implied, her hands gripping Taissa’s headrest in front of her so she could lean forward and talk to the two girls up front. That is till she scooted back to give you her full attention. 

“Well, you’re liking fine as hell tonight hot stuff! Have you been hiding this little number?” Lottie asked, reaching out to touch the material of the dress you were wearing along your leg. You managed to force a laugh and playfully swatter her hand away with shifty eye contact. 

“It’s new. My mom got it for me during our last mall trip. She wanted me to expand my wardrobe or whatever,” you played off causally. Lottie gave you a knowing smile and sighed as she turned to look out the window. 

“I think it looks great, just like you always do,” she murmured rather quietly. You weren't even sure you were supposed to hear her. Not long after Tai parked and you all got out of the car. Van yelled something at the crowd that had already gotten things started and there was a low collection of howling and yelling in response to her. Lottie got out of the car before you but stopped and waited by your door for you to get out with her. She said nothing but had that perky smile on the whole time as she watched you expectantly.

“So, whatcha wanna do?” you asked. She shrugged. 

“I dunno. Maybe get reeeeeally drunk,” she toyed, reaching out to take your hand like it had become second nature. Tai walked up to the two of you from the driver seat of the car, double-checking as she locked it shut and shoved her keys in her jacket pocket. She made a purposefully obvious glance down at your entwined fingers then back up to Lottie.

“Careful Lot, people might talk,” she said with what Lottie took as a comfortable coolness but it sent a shiver down your back that caused you to think about pulling away. 

“Pfft! I don't give a flying fuck! Let them talk!” she announced quite loudly, leaning forward with her free hand on her hip. She turned her gaze back to you and wiggled her brows as she grinned. “Come on. Get a drink with me,” she urged, tugging you away from Taissa. 

“Don’t listen to her. No one is looking, and if they are they don’t care. What’s wrong with holding hands anyway?” Lottie babbled on as she pulled you in line for a beer with her. She was still holding onto your hand quite tight as she jumped into rambling about something related to her French class. Maybe a recent test? You weren't exactly sure. Despite everything she’d said before, it felt like everyone was looking, but not because of you. Because of Lottie. She was the pretty, popular girl while you were just the weirdo she hung around. With that idea in your head, it was pretty hard to not be self-continuous. You were so in your head that you didn’t notice her shoving a beer in your hand. 

“Wha- oh, thanks,” you stuttered. You'd let go of her hand to get your drink, opting to use both hands to hold it. Lottie frowned as she was handed her drink ans thanked the guy passing them out. 

“Hey, you alright? Lost you for a sec,” she murmured. She’d become so gentle all of a sudden. Were you really that fragile? She forced a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I'm great. Just haven't gotten into the party mood yet, I guess,” 

“Oh, ok. Do you wanna step away, clear your head a bit?” you shook your head no. 

“Nah, I'm good. I’m just gonna grab something from my bag in Tai’s car, ok?” Lottie tilted her head, almost like she was trying to look at you from a new angle. 

“I can go with you,” she offered. God, why did she have to be so attentive and sweet?

“I promise I’ll be fine-” you started only for a distraction to catch your eye. “Hey, Shauna and Jackie are over that way. I’ll meet up with you when I’m done,” you offered, dialing up that chipper tone as high as you could. She finally gave in and nodded, making her way over to her other friends while you crept away to dash toward Tai, wherever she was. You eventually found her after dodging around cars and trees listening to Van argue with a group of boys about something sports-related probably. That honestly wasn’t a huge concern of hers at the moment. 

“Hey, Taissa. can I borrow your keys?” Taissa arched a brow. 

“You’re not trying to use my car to go joyriding or to fuck, right?” 

“What? Oh my god- no. I just wanna get something from my bag. It’s in the car,” 

“Where's Lot?” why is that relevant right now?

“She’s with Jackie and Shauna,” you began messing with the loose hair falling in your face, averting your eyes from her. Tai gave you an up and down before tugging at Van’s jacket. 

“Van, go with y/n to my car, ok?” 

“I was just in the middle-” Van started till Tai arched a brow and she gave in. Tai dropped her keys in the redhead's hand and you were off to the car again. 

“Do you already wanna leave?” Van asked, walking backward in front of you. 

“No, I just want something from my bag,” Van slowed to walk in stride with her hands in her pockets, watching you as you watched everyone who passed. 

“Care to share?” you just looked at her and finally managed a laugh.

“I’ll share when we get there,” upon reaching the car and unlocking it, you grabbed your bag and made your way to a more secluded edge over the party where you’d be left alone, Van trailing close behind till you set your solo cup on the ground, sat down saddle style on an old, knocked-over log to rummage through your bag. You pulled out a baggy you’d been holding onto and a lighter.

“Damn, y/n, I didn’t think you the type,” the goalie said as she dropped down across from you. “Where’d ya get it?” she asked, taking the joint you pulled out to share. 

“My older brother. He lives with my dad while he’s going to school and I visited him over Christmas and he gave me a few that I use quite sparingly. 

“Divorced?” she asked, referring to your parents. You shrugged.

“Kinda, but not really? It’s weird. They still like each other and get along but they aren't exclusive by any means. Dad works in Cali while mom moved here to look after her mom who’s a few houses down from us,” you explained as you fidgeted with the lighter, fixated on the way the flame moved up and down, on and off. Van snatched it out of your hand during an “off” moment to light the joint now placed firmly between her teeth. 

You simply watched her process, lighting the joint and then taking in a long breath before holding and letting it go with a sigh as though she was relieved before passing it to you. She did the same, watching your breath in with your eyes shut only to exhale into the dark, finishing off with a small cough before passing it once again. You could see streetlights from the main road from here, you realized. 

“You’re into Lot, aren’t you?” her voice was low to not attract attention, but she was confident in what she had asked. You paused, staring out at the lights just a short walk away. Normally, an insinuation that you were gay would have you panicked. It could have been the weed, but maybe you'd relaxed and found some sliver of comfort in the redhead, your new companion.

“I think I do,” you whistled through your teeth at your admission. You turned to meet her eyes when she nudged your shoulder with the side of her hand, passing the joint off again. “Think I’m a lost cause?” Van snorted and shook her head.

“Oh, hell no. That girl’s crazy about you,” Van said with a sigh, leaning back on her hands where she was sitting on the log. “Now, I don’t know what type of way she feels. Sexual, romantic, or just friendship. But there's something there. Lot’s banked a lot on you,” you began to smile again, soft and mellow as you took another hit. After that one, you leaned down to take a chug of your beer. You offered to pass again, but Van had turned her attention back to the party, particularly to Taissa who looked like she was getting shit from Shauna. Even from over her, you could tell she was wasted given how she stumbled around. Van groaned and got up from where she was sitting.

“Keep it. I gotta deal with this,” she huffed as she left. You watched her go, eyes trailing after her to meet with Lottie’s, who was staring right at you, arm crossed over her chest and cup in hand. She seemed to hesitate between you and her arguing friends, but when the debate got particularly loud she turned with a furrowed brow. You watched her go and kept watching till Jackie derailed the entire situation, pulling all the girls away likely to yell at them. With that done, you sighed, leaning back to fully lie on the log, the joint between your lips and legs dangling over either side as you shut your eyes. 

“You hiding from me over here?” you opened your eyes. The joint was nearly out as it had just been sitting between your teeth for who knows how long by now. Lottie stood over you, arms still crossed as she held onto her nearly drained drink. you shook your head, sitting up as she sat down beside you on your left, much closer than Van had been. You readjusted, sitting properly with both legs over one side of the log, shoulders hunched. Lottie's arm brushed against yours when she moves. “You didn’t come back,” she simply steed with no malice or accusation in her voice. You shrugged. 

“I was getting overwhelmed I guess,” you murmured. “Didn’t feel like talking,” 

“You seemed chatty with Van” Again, she simply stated fact. You sighed and leaned down to take another drink. Lottie took the joint from your hand. You watched, then reached for the lighter to give it a second wind. She held it between her forefinger and thumb for you and once it ignited once more it found home between her lips. You watched, sipping your beer. She smoked far prettier than Van had.

“Van’s a good listener guess. Doesn’t talk too much,” Lottie snorted out a laugh at that. 

“I don't think anyone has ever said ‘Van Palmer doesn’t talk much’” you chuckled out a soft laugh to match hers. You looked away, out at the lights again. Lottie took another breath in, letting the joint sit between her fingers with her crossed arms. She watched the lights with you, though she might not understand the fixation you seemed to have on them. That is, till she paused, turning fully to watch you. She tilted her head again, unexpectedly brushing her fingers over your temple to guide loose hair obstructing her view out of the way and behind your ear. “Let me kiss you,” she murmured, almost as though she was pleading. You turned back to her. Her hand settled on your cheek, fingertips curiously brushing over the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t kid me,” you whispered, eyes glazing as you darted down to her parted lips. 

“Never,” she shook her head ever so slightly. It made her hair sway. You swallowed hard but shakily nodded. That was enough of a yes for her to move in. She immediately dropped the joint in her hand and the hand tracing your cheek found home on the back of your neck. Her now free hand rested behind your ear, stroking your hair as you latched onto her waist, using your left hand to hold you up on the log. 

She kissed like she knew exactly what she was doing. As though this had all been part of a longstanding plan. She’d envisioned this just as you had, and fuck was it perfect. Her lisp whereas urgent as your own and had it not been a public space you might have let her do anything she wanted to you right then and there. She scrunched her fist into your hair, unintentionally pulling ever so lightly on your scalp and eliciting a sudden moan from your throat which only egged her on further till she had to pull away with you chasing after her. 

You opened your eyes wide, lips still parted as you gasped for breath in and out. And then, of course, you got shy, anxious voices telling you she’d regret this immediately. You began to turn from her but the hand in your hair let go and moved to trace knuckles over your cheek and subsequently turn your eyes back to her. She shook her head, murmuring no over and over, soothing you like a child about to cry. And at that thought, the thought of crying alone, you felt the tears spike in your eyes. She watched your brow crinkle as your lip trembled and she pulled you into her chest, holding you as close as she could. 

The hand on your neck found your back as the hand on your cheek moved to cup the back of your head. You buried into your neck as you cried, and she rested her cheek against your scalp, murmuring over and over how it was all ok. She kissed your hair, rubbed your back, and rocked you from side to side as your hands vigorously clung to her sweater, fearing letting her go, because what if the magic would be over and gone when she was out of your hands? 

But reluctantly you needed to let her go, and eventually, that point came where you emerged from her embrace, the scent of her shampoo and perfume fading from you quickly as you met her puffed, teary gaze. She moved to hold your cheeks in her hands as her breath shook. You held your hands around hers, kissing her palm with a weak smile. Fortunately, that had her let go of a watery laugh. But neither of you spoke yet. You just sat in warm silence till you readjusted to be side by side once more, your head lulled to her shoulder with her cheek at your temple.

“Fuck, what do we even do after that?” you breathed, eyes training down to the long discarded joint and red solo cups with only sips left of beer in them, though yours has spilled at some point, soaking the ground under it. 

“I leave tomorrow,” she murmured back. You dressed your lips together before letting go of another sigh. 

“I know… we should have waited” she chuckled sleepily.

“I don’t think so,” you hummed your why. “I’ll be excited to get back here. Well, more excited than I already was to see you,” you chuckled, though your tongue dripped with wordless sarcasm. 

“Don’t forget about me,” 

“Oh, how could I ever after that?” she teased with another giggle. You smiled, nuzzling your nose into her shoulder. With the change in direction, you got an idea upon seeing a small purple flower growing just beside her shoe.

“I know how,” you started, reaching across her side to pick it, leaving a nice, long stem to tuck behind her ear and in her hair. You sat back to admire your work and smiled. “Purple suits you,” you decided, tucking some of the hair behind her ear for a better look at your work. She chuckled with a sniffle, her fingers gently wrapping around your palm, catching you to kiss your fingertips. 

“Mam, are you alright?” you were dragged out of your daydream like a shockwave and had to take several moments to ground yourself again, taking in a deep breath. You blinked repeatedly, shaking your head before forcing a smile. 

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I was remembering something I needed,” you said with a forced chuckle. The florist smiled, though he seemed a little unsure. You turned back to the flower, petal still gently settled between your fingers. “I’ll take this, while I’m here,” you said as you cleared your throat, gently picking up the small white bucket and giving it to the florist to ring up. 

“Ah, Ruellia caroliniensis. But it’s better known as Carolina Wild Petunia. A good choice. Pick it for any reason? I ask everybody that,” he asked, making meaningless small talk. Your eyes stayed focused on the waving petals of the plant as it was gently jostled around. 

“It just reminded me of someone I knew, I guess,” he smiled thoughtfully and nodded with a soft hum of acknowledgment before he asked you for cash or charge. You picked charge which resulted in you digging through your purse for your card. 

“Oh my god! y/n! A shrill voice called when you weren’t looking and just as you pulled out your debit card. You gave the florist you’re card before turning to look who it might be only to have the Misty Quigley herself approaching you with the wide smile and outstretched arms that you felt you had to reciprocate. She squeezed you quite tight and when she let go her hands remained at your side for a moment as she seemed to look at you in awe.

“Well, what the heck are you doing here?” she asked tilting her head with that smile still plastered across her lips till she gasped “Oh! Are you looking for Nat too?” you furrowed your brow and frowned. 

“What? No, I’m-”

“Uh, mam, you’re purchase?” the florist interrupted. You turned from Misty to grab your new belonging, which he had been so kind and bagged for you as well as outstretching your card back to you. 

“Yes, thank you so much! I truly appreciate it!” you said as chipperly as you could before ushering Misty out of the man’s stall and towards a clearing. “What, what are you talking about with Natalie?”

“She got kidnapped!” the blond exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. “She was taken from the motel she was staying in back home and we’re here to find her,” she blabbered on. 

“Hold on, when did Nat get out of rehab and who is we?”

“I dunno, a few weeks ago I think? So much had been going on and it's been hard to keep track and ‘we’ is me and Walter,” you were still confused about the situation and about to ask who Walter was when the man himself showed up. He’d be trailing behind Misty for some time, just casually in the background. He was so average you hadn’t even noticed him. The man waved and offered a smile. You tentatively returned the wave but still seemed confused. 

“I’m not here for Natalie. I didn’t hear about that at all. No, I’m looking for Lottie,” you said rather bluntly. Misty frowned and it was now her turn to be confused. 

“Lottie? But she’s been in Switzerland for years-” 

“Well I thought that too will I saw this,” you whispered, hissing through your teeth as you frantically pulled out your phone and the screenshot you’d taken of the farmers market Instagram post, zooming in on Lottie and shoving the device into her hands.

“No, that can’t be her,” 

“It is. I just- it’s not a great angle but I know it’s her,” you insisted. Misty began to scan the photo curiously, zooming back out when she let out a dramatic gasp and began excitedly smacking at your arm. 

“Purple people!” you yelled. “Purple people!” she repeated it to Walter this time, which summoned him to rush over and huddle around your phone.

“The purple people took Natalie!” she explained with far too much excitement for your liking. 

“Could they have taken Lottie,” Misty shrugged. 

“I dunno, maybe. But only one way to find out!” She shoved your phone back in your hand and began aggressively powerwalking away with Walter tight on her heels. You hesitated momentarily before shutting your phone off and shoving it into your purse, hustling after them. 

“Wait! Do you know where to go?”

“Yes! Of course! We found out from the other stalls,” she called back. “Get in your car and follow us!” she sounded far too excited for this whole ordeal, but what other options did you have to find Lottie? You ran back to your car, got in, and started with heavy breath ready to take the next step on this crazy adventure you found yourself on. 

-💚-

After quite a bit of driving, they pulled off into a bed and breakfast parking lot and parked. You parked beside them and got out with a frustrated expression. 

“We're not going tonight.” Misty rolled her eyes and she pulled her suitcase out of the trunk of what you assumed was Walter’s car. 

“Someone,” she was heavily implying someone to be Walter, especially with the annoyed, flat-mouthed looks he gave him “wanted to wait till morning because he thinks the cult will expect us at night,” you gave her a look that asked “really” and Misty threw up a hand, shaking her head as she grabbed onto her luggage. 

“I know! Trust me, I know, but captain’s orders,” she huffed as she followed Walter into the B&B. You paused, letting out an exasperated sigh before going to grab your duffle back and your plant. You hear Misty muttering about not using her real name as she and Walter get a room. 

“And it's just for one room, right?” the concierge asked. There was an irritatingly comedic back and forth of yes, and no, then both of them settled on no, two rooms would be fine. 

“And, um, you can put mine under the name Lady Mallowan,” Misty gave herself a name straight out of Clue or a shitty romance novel and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Seventeen and eighteen. Up the stairs to the right,” then went back and forth with thank yous as they clumsily took their keys, then started deliberating about luggage when Walter offered to take the suitcase off of Misty’s hands. 

“Just one room under y/n l/n is fine, please,” you said simply. You saw Misty and her new boyfriend exchange an appalling look and you had to refrain from laughing. 

“Room nineteen,” 

“That’s great, thanks” You dropped your things upon entry, but gently placed your plant in its bed on the nightstand before collapsing on your bed with a long sigh. Of course, you'd need to get up and change, but for now, lying on your back in a bed that wasn’t yours was all you could feel like doing. That is till you got up from said bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small paper cup of water that you set on the nightstand as you sat on the edge of the bed. You tentatively opened the bag that held your plant and took it out, setting it on the stand to be out and in the fresh air. You gave it a light drink from the cup before you returned to the bathroom for a shower. 

-💚-

You were woken by Misty’s knock at you’re door bright and early at seven-thirty and back on the road by eight after grabbing complimentary breakfast to go. It was a rather long drive to wherever you were going, but you once again found ways to fill the time. That is till Walter took a screeching u-turn that almost caused a car crash on a winding, wet wooded road, but that was a conversation for later. You pulled up beside them and followed as they now stood excitedly outside a green gate that happened to have a matching bee on it. All you carried with you was your tote bag with your plant tucked away inside. Why you felt the need to bring it, you weren't sure, but it felt necessary. 

“The bee is where the purple people are!” Misty insistently explained.

“Ok, do we need to call them ‘the purple people” 

“Well, yes, but that's only till we get a better name for them. But anyway,” without another word of it, Misty ducked under the gate herself and began walking up the road. 

“Ok, we’re getting hit by a car if we do that-” you started but she shook her head. 

“It'll be fine. It looks decently short,”

“Well what about my car?” you urged. 

“Just lock it! Who’s pulling over in the rain to rob an unattended car out here?” you sighed with exasperation. 

“I dunno, maybe people from the cult we’re actively visiting,” you mumbled to yourself. 

“What was that!” 

“Nothing!” you huffed, following after Misty and now Walter, who had started moving shortly after her. She’d been right though. It was a rather short walk with no cars. You found yourself in what looked like a parking lot in the middle of the woods blocking off yet another road with an even larger fence in front of it. Misty and Walter were actively messing with an intercom system that seemed to have worked as they excitedly returned to your side. 

“Alright, so the man on the other end, I think his name was Jack or Jackson- anyway, he’s getting Natalie and she's coming to meet us here,”

“But what about Lottie?” Misty adjusted her glasses and folded her arms with a shrug. 

“I thought we could have Natalie confirm that, because we know she’s in there-”

“You don’t believe me,” you interrupted as she began trailing off.

“Well, we do not want to be making outlandish accusations to strangers, I mean-” she got easily distracted by the sound of someone walking down the pebbled path.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nataline started with heavy irritation. 

“Oh, thank God you're safe,” Misty would have hugged her by now had the gate not been in her way.

“Safe? What are you talking about?” her attention turned to you and her eyes widened with further confusion “Hi, y/n,” she added tentatively. You awkwardly waved as she gave you a nod. 

“And who the fսck is this?” she gestured to Walter now. 

“Walter,” he simply introduced himself with a wave and a light chuckle before going on. “I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you” Natalie scrunched her nose, clearly not caring all that much about what impression Misty had given him of her upon first meeting. 

 “We're here to rescue you!” Misty eagerly interjected again. “I mean, you-you were kidnapped, right?”

“No. Uh, yes, technically I was, but it's no big deal, okay?” the notion that Natalie’s kidnapping wasnt that big of a deal was bewildering to Misty as seen on her face, but honestly you understood her reaction. 

“Lottie sent some people for me, but I'm not being held against my will,” she muttered, twisting her neck as she spoke. “Well, not anymore” It was now your turn to perk up. 

“I'm sorry, Lottie?”

“I told you she was here,” you hissed through your teeth at Misty, moving closer to the fencing. 

“Wait- as in Lottie? Lottie, who was committed to a mental institution in Switzerland? That Lottie?”

“Yes, Misty, that's the one,” Natalie turned to you once more “I'm assuming you had your theories or whatever?”

“Oh, I’m not here with them-” you paused. “Ok, originally I was coming here all on my own, but we ran into each other, and well,” from there you gave up.  

“Wait, Natalie, Natalie!” Misty derailed the conversation once again. “​​You're gonna have to elaborate, 

“Look, she runs a place here, and she's helping me reflect or whatever. So, you and your Hardy Boy can go home,” she looked Walter up and down again about Hardy Boy.

“But…”

“I'm doing a fսcking thing here, Misty. I don't need you getting in my way,” she’d lost patience with the blonde’s interruptions and persistence and in all honestly, you felt bad for her given how she shrank back at the raised tone. But she quickly toughened back up, turned on her heels, and marched back in the direction you'd come. 

“She seems nice,” Walter tried to lighten the mood. Natalie sighed with either exhaustion or irritation, watching them go before her eyes drifted to you, still standing in front of her. “You’re not done too?”

“Natalie, I need to see her,” she let out a scoffish chuckle and sighed through her nose. 

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” 

“I’m serious, Natalie,”

“Oh no, I can tell you are, don’t worry. Just- just give me a minute, alright. Let me ask my guy,” she began to turn but waited for you to nod before actually leaving. You stood still, turning to check your surroundings once more just to be as sure as possible. Natalie returned quite quickly with a man behind her. She shrugged, seeming surprised by the verdict herself as the gate’s electric lock began to unlatch letting you in. 

“Uh, my car is still parked with some of my things,” Natalie was already shaking her head. 

“We can have someone come and retrieve it all later,” Natalie’s companion started ad Natalie turned, already heading up the hill for a second time. 

“But you're not gonna need it!” she yelled behind her. Due to her eagerness to leave the scene, you were left walking beside the strange man who let you in. 

“So, I'm assuming you’re Jack or…” you drawled off but he chuckled, appreciating your intention. 

“Jeferson,” he cleared. 

“Right, ok. Nice to meet you,” you nodded, your hands clutching quite tight to the straps of your tote bag. “Look, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m only here to see Lottie not join your… well join whatever you're up to,” he laughed again and nodded. 

“Don’t worry. She knows you're here,” a shive rushed down your spine as you realized what was happening. “I’m instructed to take her to you, actually,” 

“Oh. wow, that’s just great. Yeah, great,” you whispered to yourself as you bit your lip, questioning if this was going to be a good idea after all. When you looked up again, taking a deep breath you were met with quite a beautiful scene before you. It was a nice, well-organized camp on a lake with cabins and what you assumed were social areas all around and throughout the woods. You paused for a moment to take it in and wonder, did Lottie make all of this? 

“Charlotte is waiting this way, Ms. l/n,” Jeferson interrupted your wonderings. 

“Mhm, I’m coming,” you had to manually tell your feet to move before you could follow him to the separate cabin that must be Lottie’s. He had already walked up the stairs by the time you approached the porch, taking a moment to appreciate its handiwork before trudging up the creaking wood. Jefferson opened the door but didn’t enter, only gesturing for you to go in. 

“Charlotte will be here as soon as she can step away,” he explained as you cautiously walked in. You nodded, turning around to give him your thanks but he was already shutting the door, leaving you to your own devices. For a moment you stood completely still, watching the wooden door anticipating her walking in at any second, but after a few seconds of stillness, your foot began bouncing with building anxiety squeezing at your chest. 

“Shit,” you hissed, turning to look around your surroundings and find something to help you calm down. You put your bag on the table, but take the time to take the plant out and set it beside your bag. You rubbed your sweating palms on your pants and began to wander around the single room you found yourself in. Her main space was split into a small lounge-ish office space with a kitchen on the other half. 

You assumed the bathroom and her bedroom were down in the back of the cabin and with a craning of your neck you could see in one of the rooms but you decided it best to leave that be. Wandering around the office space you ran your fingertips over the edge of her desk. You peaked over the edge, curiosity winning momentarily before you restrained yourself, instead turning to the art hung on her wall featuring deer and other wilderness things before resigning yourself to the couch facing her desk. 

You flopped down rather unceremoniously but couldn't help sitting stiff, hunched forward with your knee bouncing in anticipation. Your eyes trained on her desk again, which was mostly bare of anything decor-like other than the two small picture frames. You forced yourself to look away till your nerves kicked in again and you were back up and taking the large one into your hands. It featured a classic team photo of the soccer team back in high school, but earlier on during your sophomore year. 

You chuckled lightly scanning over the baby faces your old friends used to have. Having something familiar to look at was relaxing, you decided. Maybe not the most morally correct thing, but this was an exceptional situation. So, you moved on to the small one, thinking none of it till she got a look and your heart dropped again. Pressed pristinely against the glass was an all too familiar flower, nearly identical to the one you'd been carrying for the past day and a half. Only this one had far more wear to it, clearly showing its age. It had faded in color over time, taking on hues of parchment brown rather than the vibrant purples you’d been familiar with. You traced over the shapes of the petals, likely dry and dusty to the touch by now over its safety net of glass. That is till you heard the carbon door abruptly shut.

And oh, she was perfect. She was sickeningly, stunningly perfect but all you could do was freeze where you stood, grip tightening around the small wooden frame in your clasp out of fear you might drop it if you didn’t squeeze tight. And she stood just as stunned at you. Age had encompassed her face all this time, but it was still her face. The one you had ingrained in your mind, so much more detailed than any photograph. You felt your chin begin to quiver.  

“Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" You had to force it out with your breath ad your brow bowed with the strain of keeping it together. And then she laughed. She laughed her laugh, now blossoming with the beautiful thing that is age, just as every other part of her was. She moved toward you as though she was floating. She took her caftan off so smoothly it was like the breeze itself removed it for her. And before anything else, she took the frame from your hands, fingertips brushing together only for a moment. She returned it to its place before shakily turning back to you, tears drizzling from her eyes as she smiled.

“How could I not,” she murmured with a laugh full of exasperated joy as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hands hovered over your arms as though she feared touching you would break the illusion, but with the way your lip trembled and tears rolled from your eyes as you held back a strangled sob she couldn’t refrain herself. It all felt so new and old all at once and oh, how overwhelming she was, her hands cupped at your face, thumbs stroking at your tears as you let it all go, sopping into her. 

Just as she had years before she murmured sweet nothing promising that you were safe and you were here, but not only you. After so much time she needed the reassurance of reality just as much. She pulled you in, just as before and your nose found its rightful place in the curve of her neck as her cheek found your scalp. She held you up and close as your knees began to shake and you had to grip onto her shoulder blades for what felt like dear life. You needed to feel her to truly know that she was here, she was real and she was yours, as were you.

[a-gay-little-cat]

"Dredging up distant memories"

Getting his truck back wasn't the happy reunion Tiger would have hoped it to be.

Tiger was forced to abandon his truck not too long after leaving his old campsite for good. Parking it as out off the way that he could, he hoped to return and fix it up with the right tools.

Sadly that wouldn't be the case, the truck gone, likely hauled off by people looking to strip it for parts.

Try as he might, he wasn't able to find it anywhere, eventually writing it off as just another thing lost in this nightmare.

And he wasn't wrong, people took the parts they could, leaving the chassis to rot out in some scrap pile.

Though little did he know someone eventually happened to stumble upon it, the truck making the perfect vehicle to get far, far away from Night City. A stranger spending a lot of time fixing up this quite tacky vehicle.

And once it was up and running again? Tiger received a ping. A geolocation telling where exactly his truck was at. He dropped everything in an instance, rushing off without explaining anything, much to V's (belonging to @gr-74 ) dismay.

He didn't expect Tiger to lead them out into the desert, out to the huge trash piles just outside NC. Even less so to see... that truck. It had Tiger written all over it.

Nor could anything prepare him for the scene he was about to witness. A stranger simply trying to get out of the city (who could blame them really by using this truck they fixed up. A truck that very much so belonged to the other mercenary.

V expected Tiger to let it go, let the person leave. He's always been nice, charitable.

But not this time.

He's never seen him this... angry, tense. Not budging in the slightest and telling the stranger to take a hike. Doesn't want to hear it, just get lost. And get lost they did, yelling at Tiger for his cruelty.

Cruelty V had to agree with. Because what the fuck was that.

The answer he gets?

"Ya wouldn't fucking get it.", followed by him getting into the vehicle.

When asked where he thinks he's going it gets deflected with a "None of your business."

Uncharacteristically cold for a man like Tiger.

After a bit of a drive he arrived at an empty spot in the desert, nothing of interest to see here, just sand and rock as far as the eye can see.

At least, that is what its now. Years ago? It was the last spot his clan camped at before it all burned down.

A loss he never processed, simply buried deep deep down where it was left to fester, never daring to uncover it.

Until the truck appeared and it all got dragged to the surface to show its ugly face.

Tiger spends the next days drinking, sober being far from a state he wants to be in right now.

No one has heard from him in this time, simply wanting to be on his own. Much to the concern of his family and Vincent who figured Tiger was staying with the other party.

Once telling Tiger's sister what has happened, she might know where he is, sending V on a wild goose hunt out in the desert.

Luckily it's not hard to miss that bright blue truck out in the brown and dry landscape.

Stepping closer, the image that unfolds in front of him is not a pretty one. Several bottles and cans of beer scattered about and Tiger staring off into the distance.

Walking up, V asks if he can sit with him, if he wants to talk about it but all he gets in response is a grunt.

What does he care? What's there to talk about?

Vincent has been keeping him at arms length, so why does he want to get involved in his life now?

An exasperated snort leaves the smaller merc. Fine, be that way.

Despite that, he doesn't want to leave, doesn't feel right to leave Tiger on his lonesome like this.

Instead he chooses to look around, see if there's anything here, must be a reason as to why the guy drove to this spot.

After a while of finding nothing but sand, a gruff "Nothin' here anymore." is mumbled from behind him.

Using this as an opportunity to get a better picture of all of this, Vincent asks "Oh yeah? How d'you figure?"

There's a long pause. Tiger staring off into nothing until finally a quiet "Watched it all burn."

The nomad never told him much about what happened, why he isn't running with a clan anymore. It was only ever vague answers, nor did V ever push the topic much.

So when Tiger tells him, tells him about how the camp got caught in a crossfire between corporations in the middle of the night, V stands and listens, asking the occasional question to keep him talking, eventually sitting down next to him.

After a while he trails off into stories of the past, what it was like.

And then it's quiet again for a bit.

Until V offers to get them something proper to eat, Tiger not wanting to leave his truck out here.

It is strange, sitting here, eating in silence, no city noises anywhere, the stars visible above them.

Between bites Tiger thanks him for listening, apologizing for being an asshole back there.

It's not long before V is getting tired, looking forward to his bed.

Offering Tiger to come with, crash at his place.

But Tiger wants to stay, just one more night. He's been out here sleeping in his truck, one more time won't hurt. He'll be fine, playfully nudging the other as a reassurance.

"Well.... I guess I'll see you when I see you."

"Not getting rid of me that easy, promise."

[brawlsbigbadonkers]

So uh... how you feeling about the newest earthspark episodes? I guess we sorta got what we wanted... (my poor blorbos)

Warning , earthspark spoilers

I have some mixed feelings about the newest earthspark episodes. But honestly I quite enjoyed them !! I loved seeing skullcruncher , he’s a personal favorite of mine. I also loved the breakdown episode , it was so good to see him. He’s a bloody handsome man ! I loved his little friendship with bee, it was cute yet sad to see. You can tell they still, in a way, care about each other. The episode where it’s focused on jawbreaker finding a alt mode is so heartwarming and I loved it a lot. Hashtag is such a tablet kid and I kinda found it endearing , reminded me of my younger siblings.

BUT HOLY FUCK I ENJOYED TARANTULAS A FUCK TON. I’m not the biggest fan of tara in other continents. BUT FUCKIN THIS TARA??!! MY GOD. I like how he never wanted to fight but he did what he needed to survive. THAT FUCKS. “But I will always be Tarantulas” FUCKS. I loved Tara , easily one of my new earthspark faves.

A lot of the other episodes seemed like filler but they where nice slice of life.

(Warning I’m mostly just bitchin over nothin for the next paragraph so feel free to skip it)

Now…about the last episodes. I felt like there was a lot of good in em!! For starters I LOVED frenzy and lazerbeak in the first part of the last episode. They where entertaining and lazerbeak voice ?! LOVED IT!! And grimlock ?! Always and I mean ALWAYS a joy to see !! I love him!! BUT- I’m gonna be honest, I couldn’t even enjoy the last episode to the fullest because you know who was in those episodes? Brawl. And you know what happen? He lost to bumblebee, lost a arm and lost his energon. He’s taking LOSES. If you know this blog., You know it’s BRAWL NATION!! We salute the brawl flag here !! You can’t even believe how excited I was heard he might be in earthspark. I thought he might have a small reunion between him and swindle where they break out hardtop or the two just get into some trouble and have the new terans have some fun/trouble. (Jawbreaker and brawl bonding moment in my dreams.) I know I sound like I’m nitpicking (I am I’m so sorry) but I just really love brawl and I was excited to see him again.

But from here on I think we can say that the combaticons are probably split up…BUT BRAWL MY BELOVED MY DARLING MY ANGLE IM SO SO SORRY EARTHSPARK DID THAT TO YOU.

Imma be real I don’t really care/like mandroid. Like at this point I’m not even interested in him. I thought he was pretty good in the first half but then they threw him in again and I’m lost and uninterested. I’m not really into the whole plot twist at the end either. To be honest I want swindle to just come and step on mandroid for stealing his brothers arm AND his gestalt (ex-gestalt mate?!) arm. I want brawl to get his Fuckin arm and back cannon back and blow the joint.

Earthspark had a lot of potential but I feel like it also misses in a lot of ways. I hope it learns to grow as a show and learn from other continuities trials and errors. I do like it ! And I can’t wait to see more!

[theovergrowth]

The Reunion

(( oh boy guys this got long but I’ll summarize everything important at the bottom if you don’t wanna read but wanna know what happened lmao ))

The screams of panicked animals and smell of fire brought him out of his van and into the night. A wildfire deeper in the forest surrounding the camp ground. The initial instinct to help kicked in, sending him running through the tree line until his next instinct hit. The hot glow of fire froze him in his tracks for a moment, senses suddenly flooded with the terribly, deeply terribly, familiar smell of smoke and the popping of flame.

What snapped him out of his stupor was the sight of a nest falling from its perch. Again he flung forward, throwing himself to catch the little home just before it landed.

3 eggs. They couldn’t stand this heat long, he needed to-!

His leg was overtaken with a blistering heat as his pant leg caught. A strained and frightened scream escaped his mouth and he briefly considered the possibility that he was in real danger before the fire unnaturally just… pulled away, retreating at an alarming pace. In fact, most of the surrounding flames followed suit, before arriving at what Titus realized with a new horror was it’s origin.

A humanoid figure, frighteningly tall with black smoke pouring from their body, clothed in dark soot-stained ranch wear. They were slowly walking forward, so slow that he nearly didn’t realize they were approaching at all, staring with fiery eyes straight into Titus’ soul.

He held the nest close to his chest. His leg was in horrible pain, his heart was beating loudly in his ears. Memories of The Overgrowth flooded forward; The violence and fury of nature filled his senses.

He was going to die here. He would die in fire just as his father before him, and it would be at the hands of a being he found familiar; a being like The Overgrowth. It was a fitting end, really, but terrifying nonetheless.

“Titus?”

Wha..?

The figure was less than ten feet away now. Eyes focusing slowly through the blinding light of the flames, Titus could just barely see it’s face; his stern features now softened ever-so slightly with muted worry and surprise, small stumps on each side of his head where antlers once were, golden eyes widened. Why were they so familiar..? Why did Titus want to cry?

“…Father..?”

—————————

They were sitting by Titus’ home now, a van that seemed far too small for him to in be all day, the campfire Macrides lit with a snap of his fingers between them. His son, who had been but a bright-eyed young boy only a year ago, was now a tired and terrified young man.

Macrides didn’t know what to say. What could he say, knowing that he had been gone for so long?

He said nothing.

“You died.” Titus broke the silence for him, though in a rather accusatory tone he found unfamiliar from his son.

“Mmhmm.” What else was he supposed to say, really?

Titus waited for a moment, expecting something more that wasn’t coming. “An’- an’ now you’re here. Not dead.”

“Not dead.”

He could sense a growing confusion and subsequent frustration, slowly turning to anger. To kill a snake…

“My body died, but my essence went back to the Fae Realm. My body started to recover here as much as it could, but the rest of me… didn’t have a clear place to go. You were the King of the High Desert, and ya can’t have an archfae in charge o’ nothin’, so it… started fresh.”

To demonstrate, he stuck his hand into the fire, allowing the flames to gently brush through his claws. Titus grew more unnerved, sure, but he was also growing clarity deep down; the feeling of a still pond in the eye of a hurricane.

“It was only a year ago.”

“It was 10 years ago,” Titus stated bluntly, staring down at his bruised and slightly burnt knuckles. When had his son become the type to earn bruised knuckles?

“I know. But not there.“

Against his own judgement he could not help but feel that, if he had explained more about the Fae Realm or his own nature when Titus was young, Titus could have had a better chance at understanding. He just hadn’t thought it would—

A sudden chill came through the air, shaking Macrides to the core. Titus looked at him, eyes wide with the horror of knowing. There was another thing he had missed.

“Oh god, The Sons. Father, they, they’re-”

“I know,” Macrides stopped him, still slightly shaken but feeling confident that he knew this part. “I know, they’re gone. Commune too.”

Titus continued to stare, frozen in place.

He continued. “I heard about everything. The Overgrowth. The fightin’. Got filled in when I was lookin’ for ya.”

Macrides reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, Titus tensing as he did so.

“I’m proud of ya, boy.”

“…You what?”

—————————

Titus looked, really looked, at Macrides. He looked at his scarred face, the burnt stumps that were once large and bountiful antlers, the once flowered dark brown hair turned black and smelling of soot.

He saw his father. He saw a stranger.

He saw a man happy about the worst thing to ever happen in his life.

“I’m proud,” Macrides insisted, obviously not understanding (when had Macrides been the kind to not understand?). “You protected your family. You were strong. That was all I ever wanted for ya.”

The trees creaked, straining under their own growing weight. Titus yanked his shoulder away from Macrides grasp, ignoring the confused look on his face.

“I didn’t want to be strong,” he growled, eyes stinging at the corners. “I wanted to be a kid! I wanted to act like one!”

“Now, calm down for a secon-“

“Calm down? Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, I lost everything!”

“Are… Do you blame me for that?”

“…Y’know what? Maybe… maybe I do!” How had he never pieced it together..?

That confusion didn’t seem to last long, because suddenly Macrides looked closer to how Titus remembered; stoic and unreadable. But Titus could smell the beginnings of an unstoppable wildfire.

“You have to grow up sometime. I’m sorry if me dying affected you-“

“What?”

“-but maybe you can be mature and consider that I didn’t choose that. And maybe consider that I’ve been tryin’ my damnest to get back for ya while I was without a body and bein’ hunted for treason.”

Oh, really now?

“Well I’m sorry ya had a tough go of it, bein’ hunted for a year. Meanwhile, I’ve been bein’ hunted down by insane fanatics that— fancy this— you created for fuckin’ 10 years. And, ha, funniest part! I was fuckin’ TWELVE and forced to kill a bunch of innocent folks all because my even more insane father was also a huge piece of shit recluse!”

Suddenly his father shot up from his seat, the fire rising with him to an intensity that made Titus fall back.

—————————

What was he doing?

Looking down, he could only see kindling.

Nobody was allowed to say those kinds of things to him!

Who was he?

Teach him a lesson! This is survival! This is strength! And won’t it go up so nicely?

It would… it would go up very nicely. It was very dry tonight, it would all go up so so fast and bright.

“Wait, wait, please,” it said, voice shaking as it crawled away on it’s back. Macrides stepped forward to follow. “Father? Father, come on, this, this ain’t right!”

Macintosh? No.

“I-It ain’t supposed to be like this, this, it’s just too-!”

Macrides came back, recognized his son, and suddenly was met with something he hadn’t been… quite prepared for.

A swift kick to his chest was, for maybe the first time in hundreds of years, enough to send him flying back about 10 feet before slamming painfully into a tree with a terrible crunch, wood splintering into his skin and his bones ribs cracking.

He could see Titus, that much was true. But this was not Titus.

Macrides had found himself face to face with The Overgrowth.

—————————

He had forgotten how it felt to be It.

Him, a tiny and frightened frog surrounded by a world that seemed only to bring hardship. The Overgrowth, a large tarantula protecting him from anything the world could throw his way.

Even if it threw something as big as realizing that things had never truly been good. Even if his father, perfect in Titus’ mind since childhood, turned out to be a monster, one who created the people who ruined and continue to ruin his life. Even if the world fell apart around him, The Wilds would give him The Overgrowth.

He didn’t want this.

“Titus,” his father rasped, trying and failing to stand from where he had fallen. “It’s ok.”

The smell of fear. Uncertainty. Blood. It flicked its head in an upwards nod, making the tree form around Macrides arms and stabbing into his flesh with long thorns to keep him in place. He hissed, but did not scream. Of course he didn’t.

“I’m sorry for snappin’ at ya,” Macrides placated, that tension heavy in every part of his body. “But if ya just let me help, I can-“

He wasn’t looking Titus in the eyes, glancing slightly lower instead. Instinct said to keep Macrides in his sight, but…

His arm was wooden. A flexible wood had taken the place of his skin. Trying to move his fingers only solidified what had happened; his hand held 5 gnarled fingers, each ending in sharp points. He hadn’t even felt it happening.

Touching his face made things worse. It had already reached his jaw.

He was going back. He was hurting someone and…

It felt so good to be the one in charge for once.

“Fuck off,” The Overgrowth growled, tears stinging his eyes as he sprinted to the van, fumbling with his keys before starting it up and peeling down the dirt road.

—————————

Macrides watched the van disappear down the road, taking his son and The Overgrowth with it.

He couldn’t stop playing what he remembered over and over in his mind as he ripped himself free and sat by the now-abandoned campsite, glancing around at the few small things Titus had forgotten in the hurry as his wounds began to heal as much as they could.

Had he really made a mistake? Was all of this really his fault?

…

“Damn,” he cursed under his breath, scrubbing his hands over his face vigorously, not caring that he was leaving streaks of blood all over. Things were so much easier before he died… Had he really come back so different?

…

“Damn.”

There was only one way to fix this. The Sons were out there somewhere, lost, without guidance, and viciously hunting Titus because of it. If he could find them… maybe he could talk some sense into them. They were his family, after all. 10 years was long for a human, but to The Twins? It would be nothing. A vacation, at most.

It was probably all just a misunderstanding anyways. The Twins wouldn’t actually go through with this kind of thing just because he was gone, right?

‘Only one way to find out for sure!’ the creature laughed as Macrides cleaned up and walked into the distance, campsite burning as he left.

(( Summary: There’s a wildfire near Titus’ camp, he runs in to try and help the animals get out. His leg gets burned, but the fire retracts and boom! It��s Macrides! But different! ))

(( They talk by Titus’ van, Macrides tells Titus he was very proud to hear about The Overgrowth and Titus gets very upset! Emotions climb, Titus blames Macrides for the sorry state of his life, Macrides gets angry and looses control to The Wildfire briefly, threatening and sending Titus over the edge which reawakens The Overgrowth. Titus/The Overgrowth kicks Macrides back 10 feet, smashing him into a tree, stabs him with thorns and Macrides starts feeling nervous and unsure, for once. ))

(( Titus realizes whats happening when he sees that his arm is wooden and clawed, with the wood that became his skin stretching all the way up towards his face. He tells Macrides to fuck off, gets in the van and speeds away, adding Macrides himself to the list of people Titus is running from. ))

(( Macrides sits down and kinda goes… damn. Did I fuck up? Then decides the way to fix it is to go find and talk to The Sons, because obviously it must be some sort of misunderstanding to do with Titus being human because humans are silly and ten years isn’t actually that long, right? What a nice reunion! ))

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 48: Retrouvailles

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 7 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, nothing else really ❧ Word Count: 5.6k

❧ In This Chapter: You begin planning your rescue mission, though you don't get too far when Daryl unexpectedly returns home. Reunions continue as everyone gets together at the Hilltop to discuss the next course of action with the Saviors, and a new potential ally comes to the surface.

❧ A/N: First chapter of 2022, and Daryl comes home! Of course, Reader is beyond overjoyed, and now that he's back it's time to kick some Savior ass. I loved writing their little reunion, and any chance I can incorporate Reader using a book as a weapon I will take it (even if it's her accidentally hitting Daryl with said book).

The dark blanket of night draped over Alexandria heavily after the Saviors spilled blood in the streets.

When you left Aaron so he could get some rest, you immediately went home and rummaged through your study.

Luckily, it was the room the Saviors had touched the least when they raided your house, so you still had your desk and notebook.

Scribbling down ideas, you brainstormed your rescue of Daryl.

Carl secretly gave you a hand-drawn map not long after the incident that afternoon. It mapped out every nook and cranny of the Sanctuary as far as Carl knew, and he made special indications of the armory and the cells where Daryl was being kept.

You moved your eyes frantically between the map and your notebook, on which you were outlining the process like it was a master’s thesis.

You circled every potential weak spot and used a bright red marker to trace a path that would intersect the armory and lead you to the cells.

Soon, you had the plan pretty much laid out, you just needed to find guns.

Initially, you figured you could take out a few Saviors on guard duty and take their weapons, but that was risky. Instead, you planned to go out tomorrow and look for weapons.

You went over the plan repeatedly in your head as you imagined the Sanctuary in your head. Maybe if you were lucky, you could kill Negan.

“This could work,” you said to yourself.

You didn’t want to take out every Savior—that would be impossible. You wanted to get in there as quietly as possible and rescue Daryl, that was your priority. If you happened to kill Negan in the process, without making too much noise, it would be a miracle.

“It won’t work,” Daryl’s voice came to you.

You rolled your eyes and looked up at the figure of Daryl, still looking like he just rescued you from that walker in the woods by the quarry.

“What do you know?” you asked, knowing full well this image of Daryl was more you than it was him. “I can do it… possibly.”

Daryl pushed aside your notes and sat himself down on your desk, swinging his legs up and criss-crossing them as he faced you.

“You don’t even have a knife, (Y/N).”

“I’m going out to get guns tomorrow,” you replied. “I’m really not in the mood for this, so if you could beam yourself back into my subconscious, that’d be wonderful.”

Daryl smirked. “Can’t do that,” he said. “Not until I know you ain’t really gonna do this.”

You sighed. “I can’t let him live like that anymore.” You were trying not to address the hallucination as Daryl, though it was tempting. “It’s bad enough that I let it happen in the first place.”

Daryl raised his eyebrow. “You let it happen?”

“I should’ve tried harder,” you said. “I should’ve done something more to make him stay, not… yell at him like I did.”

Daryl shook his head. “What are you always tellin’ me, huh? That I can’t look back on that shit and think of the things I coulda done or shoulda done. It happened, and there’s nothin’ you can do to change that, angel.”

“But I can make it right,” you replied. “I can… help him. I have to try. I know it’s a long shot, but I can’t live another day knowing that they’re hurting him.”

He lifted himself up from your desk and knelt down in front of you, looking up at you with loving eyes. “Told ya, (Y/N), I’m comin’ back for ya. You just stay put, ‘cause I’m on my way.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “There’s no way you could know that. You’re not Daryl, you’re a… projection of Daryl.”

He shook his head and smiled at you, that same smile he could only ever give to you. “Maybe you made me,” he said. “But that don’t change the fact that I love you, and that I’m always with you. Stop fighting what you know is true—I’m here.”

The image faded abruptly when you heard the distant sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

It seemed to be coming from beyond the walls, and it initially terrified you as you thought it was the first in a caravan of Saviors coming to torment your community again, but when a few minutes passed and the lone sound of the engine was the only one for miles and miles, you knew it wasn’t them.

It was a familiar sound—unique in that it was a hodgepodge of dissonant whines and whirs and growls that seemed to be coming from multiple different breeds of engines, but was decidedly coming from just one mechanical contraption.

There was only one bike in the world that sounded like that.

You nearly began to shiver in your seat as you sat there listening to the steadily approaching sound, ever becoming louder and louder, its one-of-a-kind quality becoming even more prominent.

I’m hallucinating again, you told yourself. That’s not real, he’s not here. If it is real, it’s that son of a bitch… Dwight. He took his bike. Daryl’s not here.

The lungs in your chest ceased to fill with air when you heard the front door open gently. Your eyes widened, and you were both afraid and skeptical, yet somehow intrigued.

If this was your mind playing tricks on you again, you were more creative than you ever thought.

Lifting yourself up weakly, you grabbed a nearby encyclopedia to use as a weapon, as you were wont to do.

Slowly pulling the door open, you made your way onto the second floor landing and began stepping down the staircase, your vision impaired from the opaque blackness all around you.

You swallowed hard, holding your book up and ready to throw it or slam it down on the intruder’s head if you needed to.

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, there was no one around. The living room was empty, but you still needed to check the kitchen.

Turning around slowly, you began to step forward until a dark figure before you suddenly appeared and blocked your way.

You yelped in surprise and didn’t hesitate before weakly hitting the intruder on the head with the thick book.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled.

The book fell to the floor with a thud, and the broad figure began scratching his head where you hit him.

You reached behind you and switched on the light.

You were sure the figure spoke in Daryl’s voice, but you were also sure you had been hallucinating a lot lately, so you didn’t fully believe it was Daryl when the light illuminated him.

He blocked his eyes with his hand as he adjusted to the harsh light, then blinked several times before immediately picking you up and holding you tightly in his arms.

You felt him nuzzle his head into your shoulder, and the fabric of your blouse became soaked in tears not longer after.

He whimpered and groaned into your neck. “(Y/N),” he sobbed, lacing his fingers through your hair.

You tentatively wrapped your arms around his back, gently rubbing your fingers on the fabric of the unfamiliar flannel he was wearing. Your eyes were wide and you rested your chin on his shoulder, still completely unsure if he was real.

It didn’t matter, though, because you couldn’t help but burst into tears, too, and squeeze him against you so tightly you thought you heard one of his ribs pop.

“Daryl,” you sobbed, clinging to him for dear life until the two of you seemed to somehow lose feeling in your legs and you were both holding each other on the floor, two blubbering messes rocking back and forth as one.

The two of you were like that for a while. You weren’t sure how long, but it felt like it could have been centuries, until Daryl lifted his head and loosened his grip on you just a bit to face you.

“What the hell did you hit me with?” he asked.

You sniffled and looked at him dumbfounded until you remembered that you did, in fact, hit him in the head with an encyclopedia.

“Oh, God,” you practically whimpered. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

Daryl turned around for a moment, his arms still around you as he looked at the large book now on the floor.

“You hit me with a book?”

You nodded, still crying and wiping away your tears. “I’m so sorry,” you repeated, holding his face in your hands and looking at it closely.

There was no doubt in your mind now that he was real. He was too detailed, and he didn’t have the blurry edges like the hallucinations did. His voice was much clearer, too, and he looked just like he did when you last saw him, aside from how filthy and bruised he was.

“Oh, Daryl, I’m so sorry,” you said again. “I’m sorry for hitting you, and I’m sorry for calling you an asshole, and for letting you go that day, and for being a bad wife, and for not rescuing you, and—”

“Hey,” he said, his comforting gravelly voice sending its usual vibrations through your body, “you got nothin’ to be sorry about. This all happened ‘cause of me. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

You pushed the stray strands of his hair back behind his ears, and you watched as a few small tears trailed down his face, and his gestures began to distort from crying.

“Shoulda listened to ya,” he began to sob. “Never shoulda left you. I’m sorry.”

You cried and pressed your forehead to his. “Stop,” you said. “You’re alive, and you’re home.”

Daryl nodded, and sniffled before speaking. “You ain’t a bad wife,” he said. “You did everything you could. I'm a bad husband.”

You shook your head vehemently. “No, you were just not thinking straight. I understand. We’re good.”

Daryl pressed his lips to yours gently, and you returned his kiss gladly, moving your lips slowly against his.

You hadn’t even fathomed how much you missed his kisses. It was so sweet and full of passion, you could hardly keep yourself from opening your lips and tonguing at him until he opened his mouth and allowed his tongue to meet yours.

The two of you melted into each other, and your hands were pawing at each other desperately. Any ounce of energy you had left, you poured into that embrace. When you separated from each other, you didn’t have any more energy to speak of.

Daryl took a good look at your face, and his lips turned into a worried frown. “Have you slept at all?” he asked.

I must look like shit.

You sighed. “No, not really.”

The understatement of the century. You hadn’t slept since he was taken, so about five days without sleep. You weren’t about to tell him that, though. He hated when you didn’t get enough sleep.

“Kind of hard when they took our bed,” you added.

Daryl looked around at the house, and noticed that most of your things were gone. “Bastards,” he growled. “Didn’t think they’d take this much.”

“They took more from our house than the others,” you said. “Even my clothes.”

Daryl pulled you into his arms again, forcing you to snuggle your head into his chest. “I’m gonna kill ‘em,” he said. “This ain’t no way to live.”

You nodded in agreement, then stood up with him as he lifted you both off the floor. He stepped away from you and held you by your arms. “You’re gonna sleep tonight,” he said matter-of-factly.

Sure, you didn’t have a bed, but you had a couch still, so that’s where the two of you slept. It was a tight squeeze, but it was nice to be so close to Daryl again.

He was still filthy and covered in sweat and grime, and you wanted nothing more than to scrub him with a wire brush, but he was exhausted, and so were you.

With Daryl spooning you in nothing but his boxers, and a warm plush blanket covering you both, you weren’t far from dozing off, until you remembered something you needed to ask him.

“Daryl?” you said quietly, in case he was already asleep.

He wasn’t.

“Yeah?”

You turned around in his arms to face him, and frowned at the purple and red bruises all over his face. “What did they do to you?”

Daryl swallowed hard and looked at you for a moment, gauging what you needed to know, if anything at all. He didn’t want you worrying about what happened to him, or getting upset. He could tell you were more sensitive than usual that night.

“Just… locked me in a room.”

He was quiet again for a while.

“Did they hurt you?”

He shook his head. “No,” he lied. The evidence was on his face, he knew that, but he refused to admit they hurt him. “Wanted me to be like them, work for Negan. Couldn’t do it.”

You nodded. “I know,” you said. “You’re too honorable.”

Daryl closed his eyes and scoffed. “You mean stubborn.”

You smiled. “No, I mean honorable… and good.”

Daryl was quiet again, and pulled you into his chest, almost squeezing all the air out of your lungs. You liked it, though. There was no better feeling in the world than being held tightly in his arms.

“I saw bad things,” he said. “Negan… burned a guy’s face with a hot iron… walked around makin’ people kneel for him like he was God. He makes these girls sleep with him jus’ so their guys don’t get the iron.”

“He… he killed Spencer today,” you said. “Sliced him in the middle, and let his… guts fall out onto the street. In front of everyone.”

Daryl gulped, and rubbed your back comfortingly.

“Then he had one of the Saviors kill Olivia, because Rosita shot at him. Aaron was beaten, too. I had to watch…” You trailed off at the thought, and felt a familiar lump in your throat. You began to cry quietly into Daryl’s chest. “Why are there people like Negan?”

Daryl pulled you even closer and kissed your hairline, then buried his hand in the soft tresses of your hair as he rocked you back and forth. “‘Cause the world was made for ‘em… they go around, killin’ people, takin’ what don’t belong to ‘em, then don’t feel a thing. It’s easy, like… like they can get away with it ‘cause everyone else’s afraid. Then they keep on doin’ it, ‘cause no one fights back.”

“Like a bully,” you said.

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”

Daryl knew all about bullies, he was bullied practically from the moment he was born, whether it was his father, his brother, or the kids at school, he was always made to believe he was worthless, or that he couldn’t fight back.

“We’re going to stand up to them, right?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “We gotta.”

“I don’t think Rick wants to,” you said. “He—he wants to just keep giving them stuff and hope they leave us alone. But I don’t want to live in fear.”

“Me neither,” he said. “Rick’s gonna have to wake up. Don’t matter how much we give ‘em, they ain’t ever gonna leave us alone, not after what we did at the outpost.”

You sighed. “I just don’t want anyone else to die.”

“People are gonna die, (Y/N). But it ain’t gonna be us. It’ll be them. We’re goin’ to war.”

That night you were sure you slept more soundly than you ever had. Maybe it was because you spent so long lying awake at night, thinking about Daryl, but you thought it was the best sleep you ever had nonetheless.

When you woke up, Daryl was still holding you, in such a deep sleep that the rumble of his chest as he lightly snored sent gentle vibrations through your back.

You slowly removed his arm from around you and placed it softly by his side, all the while sitting yourself up and tucking him in before giving him a light kiss on the forehead.

He mumbled a little, something unintelligible, and stirred in his sleep with a concerned look on his face. He even looked serious when he was sleeping. It was so cute.

Though there wasn’t much food in Alexandria now, you were determined to make a real breakfast for Daryl. Well, reheat it, anyway. You still had leftovers from Bev’s casserole, so you stuck it in the oven for a while to warm it.

Once it was done, you let it sit in the oven to retain its warmth until Daryl awoke. Heading upstairs, you stripped and prepared to take a shower, holding your hand under the stream to test the temperature.

Before you could step in, you felt Daryl’s hands on your waist. It didn’t startle you, though, you were too happy for it to.

You turned around and smiled softly at his still sleepy face. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

He grumbled at the nickname and let you take his face in your hands and give him an Eskimo kiss. “How’d you sleep, honey?” you asked him sweetly.

Daryl stretched his arms over his head and blinked his tired eyes. He must’ve woken up just seconds ago. “Better than I have in a while,” he mumbled. “That couch is more comfortable than I thought.”

You ran your hands through his hair, pushing it back so you could see all of his face. You relished in every nook and cranny, every crevice and blemish, every worry line that settled in his perpetually tanned skin. If you looked past the now slightly more faded bruises, you could see the very same Daryl you first met back at the quarry, the one you saw in your sleep-deprived hallucinations.

“Are you going to take a shower with me?” you asked with a raised brow, noticing he was completely naked now.

He shrugged and rubbed his face, still trying to wake up from his deep slumber. “Yeah,” he said. “Probably stink, huh?”

You giggled and shook your head. “No,” you said honestly. He didn’t really stink, he was just a bit mustier than usual. “But you’re dirty… and your hair’s greasy…”

Once Daryl was in the shower with you, you didn’t hesitate to begin lathering his hair with shampoo, furrowing your brow and absent-mindedly biting your lip a little as you focused on the surprisingly difficult task.

“God, it’s all tangled,” you said. “And you’ve got split ends… you need a trim.”

“Thought you liked it long,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Well, I do, but it needs a little trim to keep it healthy.”

After you let the conditioner set, you moved on to scrubbing him with a washcloth and a heavy glob of homemade vanilla sugar scrub. Though you tried not to look at the profusion of bruises and lacerations on his body, and the bullet wound that was still healing on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but produce a worried frown with each pass of the cloth by the wounds.

“I’m going to kill them for hurting you,” you blurted out, taking Daryl’s arm and scrubbing it gently to wash away the built up grime. “You didn’t deserve this.”

You were so incensed from looking at Daryl’s injuries that you didn’t even notice he’d started to rub shampoo into your hair. “Don’t matter what I do or don’t deserve,” he said. “Sometimes thought I did deserve it.”

You looked at him sternly. “Don’t you ever say that. You don’t deserve anything bad. You’re a good person.”

Daryl stopped massaging your scalp and looked down at his feet. “I got Glenn killed,” he said, his voice starting to break. “I—I attacked Negan… and that pissed him off, made him take out Glenn… when he shoulda just taken me out.”

You grabbed his chin and made him look at you. Your heart broke from the sight of him sobbing and whimpering. Even under the stream of water from the shower, you could tell his face was soaked in his own tears.

“No,” you said. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way you would have known he was going to react like that. What happened happened because Negan is a psychopath. It’s not a reflection of you.”

Daryl shook his head, and you pulled him into you, hugging him tightly against your body. He rested his hands on your back and cried into your shoulder. “I gotta kill him,” he said. “For Glenn… and Maggie… and their baby.”

You nodded, and tears of your own began to form. “I know, honey,” you said calmly. “You will… you’re strong, and you came back all on your own. You can do anything.”

Daryl scoffed. “Not anythin’,” he said. “But I’ll try… for you, and everyone else.”

When both of you were clean and returned back downstairs to have breakfast, Daryl still wrapped up in a plush bathrobe you made him wear, a knock came at the door.

You urged him to stay seated as he shoveled casserole into his mouth, and you opened the door to find Rick. He had a determined look on his face, and if you read it correctly, you knew he had a plan.

After an emotional reunion with Daryl (and a snarky comment about the very feminine bathrobe he was wearing), Rick informed both of you that he wanted you to join him and the others on a trip to the Hilltop to discuss a campaign against the Saviors.

It was exciting news. You had previously thought Rick was not interested in fighting the Saviors, but something seemed to change his mind.

As soon as he left, you laid out Daryl’s clothes, a long-sleeved black button-up shirt, that he probably would have cut the sleeves off of if he had the time, and a pair of jeans.

Knowing that you needed to look somewhat “tough” to engage in war negotiations, you wore khaki utility cargo pants and a white button-up blouse. The outfit made you look more like an archaeologist than a warrior, but it was better than a skirt, you surmised.

As soon as you both stepped out of the house, Daryl was bombarded with hugs and greetings from Carl, Michonne, Rosita, and Tara. You didn’t want to tease him, but you were sure you saw a slight blush on his face from all the attention he was getting. Even several Alexandrians, including Bev, gathered around to welcome Daryl. You knew then that he was, in fact, a beloved member of the community, whether he liked it or not.

Joining Jesus, who helped Daryl escape from the Sanctuary the day before, at the gate, everyone piled into a large cargo van, and you joined Daryl on the back of his bike. If you were going to fight the Saviors, you were going to need help from the Hilltop.

It was another joyous reunion when you reached the Hilltop’s gates. Maggie welcomed you all with open arms. It seemed she had become a valued member of the Hilltop’s community, along with Sasha and Enid, who also greeted you.

You practically sobbed when you met Maggie’s bear hug, rocking each other back and forth and smiling like old best friends. You asked how the baby was, and to your relief the baby was just fine.

Sasha also greeted you with a long hug, and everyone seemed much happier than they’d been in a long time. It was a beautiful moment, at the foot of the Barrington House, amongst old friends who were more like found family.

Things got a bit grim, however, when you all found yourselves in Gregory’s office attempting to convince him to let the Hilltop join the fight against Negan and the Saviors. Perhaps unsurprisingly considering how spineless you knew the man to be, he was not on board.

“No! No way in Hell,” Gregory exclaimed. “That was not the deal. You people swore you could take the Saviors out and you failed. So, any arrangement we had is now done—null and void. We aren’t trade partners, we aren’t friends, and we never met. We don’t know each other. I owe you nothing. In fact, you owe me for taking in the refugees at great personal risk.”

“Oh, you were very brave staying in here while Maggie and Sasha saved this place,” Jesus said sarcastically. “Your courage was inspiring.”

“Hey, don’t you work for me, aren’t we friends?” Gregory asked him.

“Gregory,” Rick said, “we already started this.”

“You started it.”

“We did,” Rick retorted. “And we’re gonna win.”

“These are killers!” Gregory exclaimed.

“Is this how you wanna live? Under their thumb, killing your people?” Rick asked.

“Sometimes we don’t get to choose what our life looks like,” Gregory responded. “Sometimes, Ricky, you have to count the blessings you have.”

“How many people can we spare?” Maggie asked. “How many people here can fight?”

“We?” Gregory asked. “I don’t even know how many people we have, Margaret. And does it even matter? I mean, what are you gonna do? Start a platoon of sorghum farmers? ‘Cause that’s what we got. They grow things. They’re not gonna wanna fight.”

The conversation went on like that for a while, with several of your group barking back at Gregory, trying to get him to understand that this needed to be done.

Despite Gregory’s refusal to participate, several of the citizens of Hilltop did agree to fight for the cause. Well, to be trained up to fight for the cause, first.

It was a small start, but a start nonetheless.

“It’s a start,” Michonne said, echoing your own thoughts as the eight of you made your way back to the gates.

“We’ll get more,” Sasha said. “It still won’t be enough.”

“No, it won’t,” agreed Rosita.

“Well,” Daryl said, “we find the right stuf, then maybe we don’t need the numbers. Blow ‘em up, burn ‘em to the ground.”

“You said there weren’t just soldiers with the Saviors,” Tara argued. “That there were workers there. People who didn’t have a choice.”

“We gotta win,” Daryl replied.

“We need more hands,” Rick said. “Another group. Negan has outposts. The geography, the distance works against us. We gotta get back. If they come looking for Daryl, we need to be there.”

That was something you hadn’t even thought about—the Saviors looking for Daryl. Yet another thing to be terrified of; the idea that Daryl could be taken back there, and tortured once again.

“You don’t have to get back,” Jesus said. “Not yet.” He held up a walkie talkie. “It’s one of theirs. Long-range. We can listen in, keep track of ‘em.”

“So, if we’re not going back, what are we doing then?” asked Michonne.

“I think it’s time we introduced you to Ezekiel—King Ezekiel,” Jesus said with a smile.

You all looked at him incredulously.

“King?” Rick asked.

As usual, Daryl was hesitant to bring you to see this “king.” It didn’t take him much convincing, though, since you broke out your doe eyes and reminded him that you had been separated for almost a week, and that you weren’t going anywhere without him.

That was how you all got to the Kingdom.

It was a large place, not unlike Alexandria. It was well-developed, too. There were dozens of crops, and even more people. If your group could get them to join in the fight against the Saviors, it would be a tremendous boon to the cause. They seemed like a strong settlement, and all that was left was to meet the king.

After a surprise meeting with Morgan, who must’ve somehow ended up at the Kingdom after the first encounter with the Saviors, you were taken to have an “audience” with King Ezekiel.

You nearly had a heart attack when you saw the giant tiger the king had sitting next to him.

“Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath as you entered the theater they were using as a “throne room” of sorts. You felt Daryl push you back a little, as if he was afraid the chained up cat was going to pounce at you. “Is that a tiger or am I hallucinating?” you whispered to him.

Daryl grunted, his eyebrows furrowed as he observed the strange scene. “Nah, that’s a goddamn tiger.”

“Jesus!” Ezekiel exclaimed. “It pleases me to see you, old friend.”

“It pleases him, indeed!” another man sitting next to the king bellowed joyfully.

“Jerry,” Ezekiel chided the man.

“Tell me,” he continued, “what news do you bring good King Ezekiel?”

You have got to be shitting me.

“Are these new allies you brought me?” Ezekiel asked.

“Indeed, they are, Your Majesty,” Jesus responded.

The older you got, the more you felt like you were living in a fantasy world. Everything just kept getting weirder, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. At least there was never a boring day.

“This is—” Jesus turned to gesture to your group, but then realized that all of you looked absolutely bewildered. “Oh, right. I forgot to mention—”

“Yeah, a tiger,” Rick said.

Jesus began to lead your group forward. “This is Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people.”

“I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers,” Ezekiel said. “Now, what brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the King?”

Obviously, this man was not a king.

He called himself one, and maybe that was a red flag, considering your previous encounters with a man who called himself the Governor, but at least he acted the part.

He had a distinct noble lilt to his voice, and a full head of glorious dreadlocks reaching his chest, as well as a stately full beard lining his chin. You supposed if anyone was going to walk around claiming to be a king, it would be someone who looked like him.

“Ezekiel,” Rick started, “King Ezekiel… Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom—all three of our communities have something in common: we all serve the Saviors. Alexandria already fought them once and we won. We thought we took out the threat, but we didn’t know then what we know now. We only beat one outpost. We’ve been told you have a deal with them, that you know them, that you know they rule through violence and fear.”

At first, the king seemed angered that Jesus had informed your group of their deal with the Saviors. Apparently, no one knew about that deal except for the King. The citizens of the Kingdom were unaware of it.

“We brought you into our confidence,” Ezekiel said to Jesus. “Why did you break it?

“Because I want you to hear Rick’s plans.”

“And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?”

“We came to ask the Kingdom, to ask you, to join us in fighting the Saviors. Fighting for freedom, for all of us,” Rick said.

“What you are asking,” Ezekiel began, “is very serious.”

“Several of our people,” Michonne said, “good people, were killed by the Saviors. Brutally.”

“Who?” Morgan asked.

“Abraham,” Rosita said. “Glenn. Spencer, Olivia. Eugene was taken. They took Daryl. He escaped. Every second he’s out here, he’s a target. You gonna say you were right?”

Morgan never wanted to fight the Saviors. He protested vehemently against it. You could tell from Rosita’s vitriolic tone that she was pissed at him, and you weren’t so much pissed as you were terrified of Rosita’s words: “target.”

“No,” Morgan replied. “I’m… I’m just real sorry they’re gone.”

“Negan murdered Glenn and Abraham,” Rick reiterated. “Beat ‘em to death.”

“Terrorized the Hilltop,” Sasha said. “Set loose walkers just to make a point.”

“I used to think the deal was something we could live with,” Jesus said. “A lot of us did. But that’s changing. So, let’s change the world, Your Majesty.”

“I want to be honest about what we’re asking,” Rick said. “My people are strong, but there’s not enough of us. We don’t have guns—not enough, at least. Not a lot of weapons, period.”

“We have people,” Richard, one of the king’s guards, said. “And weapons. If we strike first, together we can beat them. Your Majesty, no more waiting for things to get worse beyond what we can handle. We set things right. The time is now.”

“Morgan,” Ezekiel said, “what say you?”

“Me?”

“Speak,” Ezekiel insisted.

“People will die,” Morgan said. “A lot of people, not just the Saviors. If we can find another way, we have to. Maybe it’s just about Negan—just capturing him, holding him, maybe—I…”

You were frustrated, and hoped that Morgan didn’t have too much sway over Ezekiel. You, yourself, hated violence. You always did. You liked to believe that things could be solved some other way, but with these people, it couldn’t. What you’d seen them do, the way they viewed the world… it was evil. Just looking at Daryl’s face, still healing from his beatings, reminded you of the evil that lurked within that Sanctuary, that flooded into Alexandria and spilled blood on your streets. There was on peaceful way of getting out of this.

“The hour grows late,” Ezekiel said, rising from his throne. “Rick Grimes of Alexandria, you have given the king much to ponder. I shall deliver my decree in the morn’.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

~

✏ Taglist

@browneyes528 | @btsiguess-kpop | @byashj | @carnationworld | @citylights31 | @depressedsleepysloth | @dumdumsun | @im-just-star-dust | @jodiereedus22 | @kissmeunicornbaobei | @lacilou | @lady-discord | @littlegodzilla | @lamiautynal | @lovinnholland | @lvspit | @moonlightreader649 | @murd3rsc3n | @quietly-scrolling-through | @riverscyberwife | @roxaneisbored | @ruinedbythehobbit | @smoochesfroggos | @spenciepoo338 | @spidergirla5 | @sseleniaa | @sweetsunflowerkisses | @triscuitcracker | @twdddgirl | @wickedscorpio22 | @witheringblooddemon

[feral-pansexual]

Last Heaven

Asahi Azumane x Model! Reader

Another one for @cup-of-fluff 's collab, Time to Shine! Asahi’s always been my Haikyuu fav, I’m glad this gave me inspo to write more for him!

Song is “Last Heaven” by Waterparks. The song itself is suggestive, but I found some lyrics that I thought fit the narrative I was going for.

Word count: 1.1k

-----

Without you I'm nothin, and yeah, I think this is somethin'

And I'm not sure if that's good or bad or plain fuckin' disgustin'

Before he had met you, Asahi had been.. Lonely. He was considered intimidating by most people, or was picked on by his teammates (they weren't intentionally harmful, but things like that can wear someone down.) Coupled with his anxiety, it was hard - almost impossible, really - for him to connect with others. He always mentally beat himself up whenever he scared someone away, or would hide from his teammates if tempers flared

Then, he graduated.

His first year on his own as a fashion designer had been somewhat rough. The world of fashion could be even harsher than high school, and other designers could be rough on both clients and cooperatives.

You weren’t any of those things, though. A freelance model was the only real way you could describe yourself when he asked, and he gladly hired you on whenever you offered.

After the first few years of designing, after making a name for himself.. Only once he was fully established within the fashion world did he ask you to stay with him.

“With you?”

“Sorry, not quite-” He sighed, a light blush dusting his face. “With my label, I mean.. Now that it’s well established, I think I can offer you a steady income here. You’ve always worked well here, and I’ve heard freelancing doesn’t always pay consistently, so..”

He watched with bated breath from across the table as you looked his contract over. Hands clasped out of view, he nervously flexed his fingers. Finally, you looked up from the paper.

“Asahi.”

“Yes?”

“You never gave me a pen to sign with.. Boss”

I just wanna take you where you'll go

The two of you worked incredibly well together. Even though you had been hired on as a model, you stayed back after hours to help Asahi with his personal work. He always insisted that you leave, but after many instances of the same thing happening, he caved to your.. Demands, per se, to assist him. Tidying up his office became a joint task by your insistence, though there was never a ton to do - mostly sorting his recent designs, both finished and not, as well as putting materials and paperwork where it all was supposed to go.

From there, it wasn’t hard for him to find himself in your company. You both invited each other out for coffee or lunch, hanging out outside of work. He invited you as his plus one to his ten year class reunion, to which you gladly accepted. Only two of the people there seemed to really be close to him, introducing themselves as Koishi and Sawamura Daichi.

“You never told us you hooked someone so good looking!”

“Sawamura, your husband is right there.” Asahi; Azumane to you now, he had insisted, glanced away from the pair with tinted cheeks.

“His husband agrees.” Sawamura reached out, glancing at your boss with a grin.

You chuckled, shaking his hand. “Well, thank you both. I’m actually employed as a model right now.”

“Really?!” Both their eyes widened, Koushi grinning after a moment. “Under who?”

“Azumane, actually.”

Asahi was unable to rid himself of his blush the whole reunion, Daichi and - well, Daichi - both asking questions about how long you’d been together, isn’t it bad luck to date co-workers, and when should they expect to be invited to your wedding?

“We’re, uh.. Not even dating, guys.”

The couple glanced at one another before returning their attention to you.

“Officially, you mean? Because you two look like you’ve been ‘together’ for quite some time, even if you’re not actually together, y’know? Like.. unofficially dating, like Sawamura and I were in high school!”

The taller of the two chuckled, regarding you both carefully.

“Well.. Koushi’s right, Asahi. Even if you two aren’t dating, you seem like you could be. I’m guessing other epople’ve though you two were together, too?”

“I mean, yeah, but-” Asahi fumbled over his words again, glancing towards you. Unsure exactly of what he was looking for, you reached and grabbed his hand.

“I think we already call ourselves partners.. Even if it’s just been for business.. That could change?”

You had absolutely no idea what you did to him.

We built our house on a gold mine, baby

In quiet habits that I forget lately

There was barely a shift in you two’s dynamic once you began referring to one another romantically, merely a change in schedule. You would visit one another’s homes, spending even more time together than before. But it felt right, even just after the first week. Asahi thought so at least, shifting slightly beneath you. The sun’s golden rays peeked through the blinds, settling into a rainbow across your sleeping form. Even with a king-sized bed, you managed to find your way across to him every night you spent at his home.

He found himself lonely more again, now that he was dating you. Not because you didn’t spend time with him, but because every moment he was without you left him feeling empty. He never faulted you, though, quite the opposite; after every workday or trip spent apart, the two of you would spend the night together, sometimes at a restaurant, sometimes at one of your homes. Occasionally, you would both get the opportunity to visit local festivals together; always linked by the hand, browsing the shops and vendors you came across without the threat of slipping apart.

He proposed to you on New Year’s eve, hours before the fireworks went off. Just before the party he had thrown would start, while there was still a tint of light coming in from the sunset. Even though it was freezing, he invited you out to the balcony, breath freezing in the air. Your engagement photo consisted of him kneeling before you in front of the sunset, ring glinting in the low, red light.

You took your time and it left me pacin'

The better half of a year spent chasin'

The gathering cheered as you and Azumane’s lips finally met, his fingers gently cradling the base of your skull. You pulled away from one another, both grinning, before he pulled you back to him. Sawamura and Koushi were louder than most of the rest of the crowd; not too hard, considering that they were both in the groom’s party.

Barely a hair’s breadth separated you two, his hand shifting forward to brush your cheek gently with his thumb. He looked into your eyes, smiling gently.

Finally, he knew for certain that he was not alone.

You could be my last, last heaven

-----

Make sure to check out other works in the collab! My asks/requests are always open, too ^-^

[majimemegoro]

LIVIN IN THE FUTURE part 3

basically majima time travel. in this one we get some sweet saejima & yasuko & majima content, and also a horrible, unpleasant majima & shimano reunion (youve been warned)

part 1 | part 2

Things happen very quickly in the next few days. A replacement Deputy Commissioner is appointed. The investigation into the ramen shop hit is concluded. Then scandal rocks the news: the investigation report is found fraudulent, the detective in charge called in for questioning. Given the confusion, Sasai changes his mind and takes the final step, sending Saejima a real lawyer. Sasai is a boss worth swearing loyalty to; he wouldn’t let one of his boys take the fall for a murder that he didn’t commit (let alone eighteen) if it isn’t even going to help the Family.

The lawyer exploits a loophole. Sasai pays off a few people.

Saejima is released.

The whole thing takes eight days.

When they go to pick him up, Yasuko is wearing a yellow dress and her hair is tied with a ribbon, and Majima is wearing tight blue bellbottoms he found in his closet with a floral shirt - because it’s a special occasion, dammit, and he really missed the 80s.

Saejima comes through the door and his stony face cracks into a grin. The part of Majima that stayed afraid this would all go wrong dies in the face of that warmth. Saejima coming out of the police station is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. All at once Majima is smiling so hard his face hurts, and Saejima is smiling back; and with a pang he realizes this might be the first time ever, in both timelines, that their happiness has been both so mutual and so simultaneous.

“Taiga!” Yasuko runs to him and he picks her up, swinging her around in a hug. “I missed you,” he says. “The food they gave me in there was dirt compared to yours.” He puts her down and she smooths her dress, but immediately throws her arms around him once more.

“I was so scared,” she says, the words muffled in his shirt.

“Ah, what were you worried about?” he asks, ruffling Yasuko’s hair. “We knew it was gonna be fine.”

She releases him. “If you scare me like that again you’re going to be sorry,” she warns, and Saejima laughs again.

“You bet,” he says. “I’m sorry, Yasuko.”

He shifts slightly to face Majima where he is standing a little apart, arms crossed around his torso, very still. A turn of his beefy shoulder subtly cuts Yasuko out of the conversation. She’s going to listen in, but Majima can’t bring himself to try and stop her. She’s earned better than to be kept out of everything important.

“You’re gonna tell me how you fixed this,” Saejima says quietly but firmly. “Shimano help us out?”

Majima says nothing.

“Bro. Why are you privy to shit they’re keepin’ me in the dark about?”

“I worked it out on my own,” Majima says at last. “The higher-ups got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Oh?” Saejima frowns. He knows that’s weird. “Explain how. I don’t wanna not trust you, bro.”

Majima swallows, hopes the lie he’s about to tell won’t spoil everything. “I was... eavesdroppin’. Figured out it was a setup.”

Saejima’s even gaze flickers with surprise and fear. “Whose setup?” he asks, voice low. “Majima. Whose setup?”

“Not Sasai,” Majima says dully. “Other than that... Shibata. The police. Probably Shimano. Probably Dojima. Doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Majima waves a dismissive hand and Saejima’s scowl deepens.

“Bro. A setup involving patriarchs and the police - and you dealt with it alone - what did you do?”

And Majima opens his mouth to say -

“Come on,” Yasuko says, tugging on Saejima’s arm, her tactful patience clearly at an end.

“Yeah,” Saejima says. “Let’s go. Anyone in the mood for ramen?”

Majima barely suppresses a snort of shocked laughter. “How about somethin’ more suitable for the heat, bro? And somethin’ less inappropriate for the circumstances.”

Saejima just throws an amicable arm around his shoulder, making him stagger under the sudden weight. This is the mood of a man who thought himself a murderer, hated himself for it, and was then swiftly released from that leaden weight, leaving him buoyant; exhilarated. Saejima is still a good man, and it’s making him giddy with relief. This is what Majima killed for.

They get dinner at Kanrai.

~THIS IS WHERE THE REAL CHAPTER ONE WILL END~

The next day Majima is called in personally to see the boss.

He has to wait for a little while, smoking out in the hall, but he feels surprisingly calm. He’s survived Shimano once; he’s outlived him and thrown him off and grown beyond him. It might have taken longer than he liked to admit, but he did it. His boss is no longer facing a lonely, starving stray desperate for the merest scraps of anything passing for twisted affection; he’s facing a man with years of command and control under his belt, and his kyodai by his side. Still high on that success, Majima feels like he could devour the world raw. Brushing ash onto the floor before dropping his cigarette into an ashtray, he pushes himself off the wall and strolls confidently over to the door when he is ushered over.

As he enters, Shimano calls his name. Like a dog.

And all the blood drains from Majima’s face, all the breath flees from his lungs. Because there is Shimano: that cruel, smiling mouth, those piercing eyes, those big hands - and Majima’s trembling heart, his cool courage, perform an about-face and retreat beyond recall. Majima thought he would be ready to see him again, but he’s not. He’s not ready. When Shimano died Majima finally began to cast off the collar that was choking him for so long, but he’s never shucked it completely - he’s been dragging its weight around behind him, sometimes heavy, sometimes unnoticeable, but always, always there, and seeing Shimano alive - seeing Shimano alive makes Majima realize suddenly the enormous difference, the gulf, between actual freedom and merely having no one holding the leash.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Majima,” Shimano says, and the rumbling voice makes Majima flinch. “You got a reason to be nervous?”

Majima knows he needs to speak. He knows he needs to answer, but his chest feels like it’s compressed under the battling forces of rage and fear. He wonders wildly if he could find a way to off Shimano, too. He doesn’t want to see any more dead men, not alive. In this moment he would trade Saejima’s life for Shimano to be underground.

“Majima?”

“No, sir,” he chokes out, chokes because the taste of terrified obedience is still so familiar; foul, but so familiar it’s almost comforting. And suddenly Majima understands again how he was held under control for such a long time.

Slowly Shimano draws out a cigar and it takes a beat too long before the old instinct kicks in and Majima pulls out his lighter, head inclined. It’s been a long time since he was subordinate to anyone but Daigo, and Daigo never smoked that much.

Shimano takes a long, ponderous drag on the cigar, holding the smoke in his mouth before releasing it slowly, watching Majima with an unreadable expression. “Know why I called you in?” he asks at last.

“No, sir,” Majima says, though he’s terrified of what his boss might know.

“The Ueno Seiwa hit turned into a shit show,” he says, taking another puff on the cigar. “There was some kinda conspiracy. You saw the news.”

Majima says nothing, waiting for Shimano to get to the point.

“You were supposed to be there, but you flaked on your sworn brother,” Shimano says. “I wanna know why.”

Majima swallows. “Shibata told me it was your orders.”

“It was.”

“...So that’s why I flaked.”

Shimano nods. He’s either deep in thought or deep in observation, reading the secrets written in Majima’s soul. “Didn’t think you would, though. I thought you were more loyal than that.”

There is an easy answer. “I didn’t fuckin’ feel good about it, if that’s what you’re askin’. But my first loyalty is to you.”

Watching him inscrutably, Shimano hums. “Not sure I can trust the word of a man who betrays his sworn brother so easy.”

And Majima’s fists clench. Apparently April 21st offered no good choices; nothing entirely safe, nothing entirely noble. He doesn’t speak; can’t trust himself to do so.

“How do I know you’re loyal, Majima?”

And Majima sees red. Bares his teeth, snarling. “How do you know? I just fuckin’ let my kyodai go to his death because you said so. Ain’t that fuckin’ enough?” Isn’t it enough that he suffered so much pain and humiliation the first time around? It’s fucking barbaric that he should have to claw his way into Shimano’s elusive trust again, after being tortured for a year without cracking, after jumping around like a trained dog for Sagawa, after being manipulated like a champ during the Empty Lot fiasco, after giving up everything for the Family, twice and three times over, after grovelling and hurting people he cared about and people he didn’t care about under orders and under stress? After taking everything Shimano wanted to force on him without even complaining, passively watching it twist and change him like a metamorphic rock? Shimano’s eyes grow steely, and Majima remembers himself - himself in the present - the past, here in the room with Shimano - young and stupid and powerless, talking back to his boss as though the man were still safely dead and buried. The look on Shimano’s face sends a familiar jolt of terror down Majima’s spine, but the hungry half of him wants to howl with fury and whip out his tanto. And the final, lucid part of his soul, quiet but clear: you’re doing this for Saejima and Yasuko, not for yourself. Swallow your pride. He drops onto his hands and knees. When was the last time he had to do this? The last time he was confronted with someone who wasn’t afraid of him? “I beg your forgiveness, sir,” he says. “I - I spoke out of turn-“

Pushing back his chair, Shimano rises. “You’re dumb as shit, Majima. Don’t know if I even have a use for a guy like you.”

Don’t talk back, Majima thinks desperately, don’t talk back. His arms are trembling with the effort of overriding his screaming instinct to rise from the vulnerable position as Shimano strolls slowly around the desk. Don’t talk back. You haven’t earned that right, not in this world. Not yet.

Shimano’s shoes are in front of his nose. He wears crocodile, too. Majima didn’t remember that, somehow.

“Get up, Majima.”

He scrambles to his feet and before he’s even gotten his balance Shimano is grabbing his collar and slamming him into the wall. The back of his head bangs against it, setting a spray of stars in his vision, and all the breath is shoved out of his lungs for the second time.

“You arrogant shit,” Shimano says. Turns him around and cracks the front of his face against the wall. Majima reels back, too surprised to really feel the pain. There’s a spray of red on the wall - from his nose? - and for some reason Majima wonders what product Shimano uses to clean it off when he’s done disciplining his boys. Majima never had to do a job like that.

He coughs and spits blood and before he knows it Shimano has him pinned to the wall, his bulky body pressing against Majima’s back so he doesn’t dare move. In fact, he doesn’t think he could if he wanted to - not because Shimano is too strong, but because Majima’s muscles have shut down automatically in the face of some kind of frozen resignation, like a resin over the urgency of his fear. He swallows, tasting iron. His cheek is pressed against the wall. He never thought he would be in this position again. He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

“I think I oughta fuck you up so badly the fish in Sotenbori river won’t even want you,” Shimano breathes against his ear. “Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

“If that’s what you want to do to me, then that’s what I want you to do, sir,” Majima says.

It makes Shimano angry. He growls, grabs the back of Majima’s head and slams his face once more into the wall. Majima’s vision blacks out for a moment, and he feels his right cheekbone and eyebrow break. He doesn’t think he falls unconscious, but when he can see again he realizes Shimano is holding him up. Then he realizes he can only see out of his left eye.

He chokes out a helpless laugh.

“The fuck?” Shimano says, guttural voice growing dangerous. “You think this shit is funny?” He grabs Majima’s shoulder, turning him away from the wall once more,  and drives a fist right into his gut.

Blinking against the pain, against the feeling that his lungs and every organ in his abdomen have collapsed, Majima sinks slowly to the ground, clutching his stomach.

Shimano looks at him like he’s the second cockroach to appear on the kitchen floor. “Not gonna cry, huh?” He kicks him, catching him in the jaw. It hurts, but not so bad it must be broken. Eyes narrowed in frustration at the lack of reaction, Shimano leans down to grab him once more by the collar and shakes him violently. “Not gonna scream for me, you miserable piece of shit?”

Majima manages to suck in a rattling breath and gives him a gory grin, blood dribbling from his teeth. “What kinda scream do you want me to make, boss?”

Shimano’s eyes narrow in confused disgust. “What the fuck,” he mutters, dropping him, and, good, Majima thinks, springing to his feet as the familiar adrenalin of physical punishment, with its attendant confidence, chases away the last vestiges of nervous terror. He did learn something in twenty-five years. It’s already easier to take the old bastard by surprise, maybe even impress him.

“I’m loyal, sir,” Majima says. “I’m so fuckin’ loyal, you have no idea.”

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

And it’s an unpalatable order, but a small price to pay for everything he’s already earned by his new suffering.

When he limps out of the office, Shimano has one last message.

“Your bro Saejima got off scot-free, Majima,” he calls, “So don’t expect me to take your apparent willingness to fuck him over as proof of your dedication to me.”

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

If there was any disappointment or repulsion at what the man on the tv had mutated into, he didn't see it in Janey's face. Disarmingly, she seemed to be taking his disfigured features in stride. Clearly he was not the first ghoul she'd been sat this close to for a chat.

God, how long had she been out here? Since before he'd been put in the ground by Dom Pedro? How many times had they passed through the same routes like ships in the night, utterly unaware of how close they were to finding each other? How many times had she almost been killed before they ever even crossed paths?

He could have killed her himself, without ever even recognising her for who she was. The realisation was chilling.

"It's you."

A gentle touch jolted The Ghoul out of his grim rumination. He reflexively tensed under the contact, eyeing the hand that had settled onto his bony knee as if it was a hallucination that he hadn't expected to actually be real. He could feel the warmth of her palm through his trouser leg; it stirred a faint memory of a time when physical affection had been as natural as breathing, and made his throat tighten.

When was the last time someone had touched him outside of a fight? He didn't remember. Nobody touched him. Everyone who survived meeting The Ghoul knew better than to try and become too familiar.

He was acutely aware of the ropes pinning his arms to his sides.

"You remember me. You are real... I knew it..."

Considering how many folks he'd outlived with his condition, she had no idea just how lucky they were that he had any memories or lucidity left at all.

...Why had she been doubting whether he was real? She'd definitely been old enough to remember him. Then again, maybe whatever way she'd been preserved for this long had messed with her head, too.

"... hell you mean how am I here? How are you here? I was safe in a Vault, you were... what, you were out here for two hundred years? Is that even possible?"

The Ghoul simply lifted his shoulders in an awkward little shrug, and leaned back against the overturned trolley. The dig of metal bars against his back was grounding. Shit, he was too high for this kind of conversation. It had been a long time since he'd actually wanted to be sober when talking to someone, but right now it was only adding to the already mountainous pile of ways he was really fucking up this long-awaited family reunion.

"I was searchin' for you," he told her flippantly, as though that wasn't a horribly exposing confession to scrape out of his chest and plop down on the floor in between them. As though it really was just a matter of being too stubborn to die before he found out what had happened to her.

"Knew them vaults would open up eventually. Just had to find the right one."

And discard all his moral principles so that he could make enough money to feed his growing dependency on those damned vials for survival.

"God, you were out here all this time? I thought you died that day, I thought... if I had known... could've..."

The Ghoul tilted his head to one side, slanting her a wry little smile with a morbidly knowing edge.

"You were a kid. Nothin' you could've done, darlin'."

Cooper Howard had died a long time ago. Janey Howard would've died too, if she hadn't made it into that vault. And not all things that died became reborn - or lasted half as long as he'd managed to.

He gave a pointed little look down at the ropes that bound him, and a querying eyebrow raise in Janey's direction - do you mind?

Fortunately, she seemed to have just had the same awkward epiphany that restraints were largely an obsolete thing at this point.

"Shit, the rope. Right."

The Ghoul stayed very still as she drew her knife and hesitated over him. Why was she hesitating? Why was she looking at him like that now, with shaky hands? It unsettled him that he couldn't get a clear read on what she was thinking. He didn't know this adult Janey at all. Being family didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't going to fuck him over - he'd seen families turn on each other countless times before. That didn't make the concept hurt any less.

He'd rather be shot by that vault-dweller. He'd rather be ripped apart by ferals or eaten alive by a gulper. He'd rather face any other death than one at his own daughter's hands.

"Wait, do you remember-"

His brow furrowed. It had been two hundred fucking years, so there were no guarantees he was going to have crystal-clear memory recall of whatever this last-minute little test was supposed to be.

Or maybe this was where he found out he'd unknowingly killed one of her buddies, or some similarly awkward shit.

"What's the last thing you taught me? Before the slice of cake."

The Ghoul simply stared at her in blank silence.

...Well. Shit. He vaguely remembered that they'd been talking about something, just the two of them, before he'd gone inside to try and ask the hostess if he could take a slice of cake for her. What had they been talking about, again? This was going to look really bad if he couldn't remember, but being put on the spot like this was difficult enough when it was about something that happened last year - let alone two centuries ago.

"Do you remember what you told me, the thing about the cloud, and what to do?"

There was a flicker of comprehension across his marred features; his expression turned oddly distant, etched with something uncharacteristically somber.

Is it your thumb, or mine?

A gloved hand twitched at his side, then balled into a shaky fist; slowly, he turned it and raised his thumb in the abhorrent gesture he had avoided for so long. The gesture that had become so synonymous with Vault Tec's brand, because of one stupid photoshoot he'd done for them, that they'd kept it even after they cut him out of all their marketing.

"...If the cloud's smaller than your thumb, run for the hills." The words were very quiet and hollow, recited on autopilot.

"If it's bigger... don't bother runnin'."

Ironic, how utterly he'd disregarded that advice he'd been given in the marines the moment he'd been faced with a nuclear bomb with his daughter at his side. He hadn't even hesitated to grab her and run. And despite all the odds, they were both still here.

"...How'd the vaults keep you alive this long? Where's your mom?"

@savingthrcw

She kept watching him with the same rapt attention as before, studying his face, his eyes, his reactions. Even her mother couldn't have come up with putting him in a coffin and spreading voices of him being such a good shot just in case Janey was hit by one of her moments of stupidity - what Roy called compassion - and decided she definitely, absolutely, needed to pull him out of the ground and see if he wanted a job. It was too convoluted, right? "…I ain't the man on tv."

Like fuck he wasn't.

"...Not any more. How are you here?"

There he was. Janey sat back down, or more accurately had to drop more heavily on the floor after sitting up so straight, and for a moment she just felt that there was a hole where her emotions should be now that she wasn't spouting a list of proof that she was his daughter; she didn't know what happened now, what was supposed to happen. Shoulders dropping, the look on her face was one of both longing and fear, and she reached out to drop a hand on his knee, to feel something solid against her palm, something real. "It's you," she repeated in a small voice, more to herself than to communicate with him. "You remember me." Ah, there was another emotion, leftover fear that his brain had just erased her after two hundred years. "You are real... I knew it..."

He was my dad, it was all real, she had said so many damn times growing up, at first to her mother and the counselor she was brought to so she'd discuss her 'nervous breakdown', then to herself at night. As unlikely as it was, the movie star, cowboy, who had saved her from radiation taking her to the Vault on a horse, was very, very real.

"... hell you mean how am I here? How are you here? I was safe in a Vault, you were... what, you were out here for two hundred years? Is that even possible?" Considering he looked actually different from most Ghouls, yet so much less like a corpse than some who were still fighting and kicking at her camp, it did seem possible that he had found some hack. "God, you were out here all this time? I thought you died that day, I thought... if I had known... could've..."

Shit, if she had known she could have looked for him. She could've found him. She'd have put up fucking posters with her name and location if she had to, screw Vault 31. But no, she had been so convinced he must have died because of the radiation that it had never crossed her mind to look.

"Shit, the rope. Right." She straightened up on her knees and turned off the tv, taking a knife off her belt so she could cut it off, but hesitated at last, hovering over him - it was her imagination now and she knew it, but from up close she could see her father's face even more, despite all the mess left by radiation. "Wait, do you remember-" something only she would know, now something only he would know. That was how it was meant to be done, no matter how sure she was that it was her dad. And her fucking hands were shaking, that was sure new. Only times she remembered shaking was as a kid and when the Deathclaw had started literally eating her. "What's the last thing you taught me? Before the slice of cake. Do you remember what you told me, the thing about the cloud, and what to do?"