#the gang is mostly here. i got burnt out on these before I got to grady or connor. rip

[wishbonemotel]

More OC references

[leafnyx]

Whumptober Day 5: Heatstroke - Kierthur

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Passing out, slight mentions of being starved, overworking

Setting: Chapter 3 - Clemens Point

A/n: I know this is meant to be whumptober but this fic is mostly fluff, but don’t worry there will be actual Kieran whump later on 😋

Since he was released from the tree that he was tied to a few weeks ago, Kieran has been working as hard as he can, trying to secure his spot in the gang. Although it seems that no matter what he does, it’s never good enough.

Grimshaw’s always giving him more tasks to do, if he’s not tending to the horses or cleaning their saddles he has to be doing other chores like cleaning the table, helping Pearson with the food, carrying crates, or really anything that she can think of to get him to do. He never has a moment of rest, the second he’s seen not doing anything, he’s immediately assigned something to do.

This is made worse by the fact that it’s been externally sunny recently. Kieran feels like he’s being burnt slime most days and he’s sure he looks it too. He can see how red his arms are and he refuses to look in a mirror to see how disheveled the rest of him looks.

Kieran’s currently helping unload their newest camp in Clemens Point. He feels horrible physically but he can’t stop working or else he’s going to get told off, which won’t help whatever reputation he’s trying to gain within this camp. His throat is sore and he feels as if his legs are going to give out any second.

Kieran puts a box of who-knows-what down and goes over to the wagon to pick something else up. By this point he’s beginning to feel dizzy, his heart is beating faster than normal and his steps are more wobbly than they were before. He goes to pick up another box before everything comes crashing over him and he looses consciousness, falling to the ground along with the box he was holding.

The unpacking pauses momentarily as everyone turns to look at the sudden loud noise. Arthur, having developed a small liking to the O’Driscoll in the past week or so, got up from his spot by the fire, and quickly went to Kieran.

“The hell happened?” Arthur says, his tone not conveying the fact that he is somewhat worried.

“He just passed out, I think he overworking himself.” Mary-Beth replies, being the second to walk over to Kieran, after also getting somewhat attached to him since she saw how little of a threat he was tied up.

The rest of the camp goes back to their tasks, including Mary-Beth who reluctantly goes back to where she was previously, unpacking some of the camps belongings. Arthur, though, doesn’t want to leave Kieran passed out on the floor.

Arthur moves the crate that Kieran was carrying away from him and picks him up, slinging him over his shoulder.

“Ms. Grimshaw,” Arthur starts, calling out to the woman who is now a few steps away from him after noticing the disruption.

“I know, take him to your tent since it’s already set up” She replies, sounding exasperated at the extra thing to deal with.

When Arthur walks into his tent, he dumps Kieran onto his cot. Grimshaw puts a hand to Kieran’s skin. “He’s hotter than he should be, his skin is dry too,” She backs away from him, now turning to directly talk to Arthur. “He probably has heatstroke, since you picked him up, you take care of him”

Arthur lets out a sigh, although he doesn’t mind caring for Kieran all that much. Grimshaw rolls her eyes and continues.

“Soak some cloths in cold water and put them on his neck and armpits.” She walks off, leaving Arthur to deal with passed out Kieran.

Arthur steps out of his tent, following Grimshaw, and asks Mary-Beth if she could give him a few cloths which she immediately does, worried for Kieran. Arthur steps off to the river, putting his hand into the water. Deciding that it’s cold enough, he soaks the cloths in it before returning to Kieran in his tent.

From here on Arthur awkwardly takes Kieran’s shirt off and places a cloth on his neck and his armpits. He then takes a seat on a chair beside his bed. Arthur looks at Kieran’s body and realizes that he’s even skinner that he’d imagined. Sure, he knew that Kieran was thin, but Arthur could practically see his ribcage. He internally cringes and plans on making Kieran eat more in the future.

Arthur picks up his journal and begins sketching to pass the time. He begins drawing Kieran, not the version of him in front of Arthur on the bed but a picture of Kieran with the horses, one of the only places he looks truly happy. After almost half an hour passes, Arthur goes to soak the cloths again, since they have now turned warm.

When he returns back to his tent he sees Kieran sat up on the cot, buttoning his shirt up.

“You should be resting some more” Arthur says, making his presence known to Kieran who flinches a bit.

“Oh, no I need to get back to unpacking.. but thanks for, uh, taking care of me” Kieran stands up from the cot and tries to walk out.

“Oh no you don’t,” Arthur blocks the front of the tent. “You should rest more, you passed out from the fucking sun, you’re not going back out into it.”

“Really it’s fine” Kieran argues weakly, not bothering to try and physically push by, just standing In front of Arthur.

“No it ain’t, I’m tellin’ Ms. Grimshaw that you’re not working for the rest of today, stay here” Arthur exits the tent and closes the flap. Kieran awkwardly moves around the small area of the tent, eventually sitting down on the cot again, not wanting to argue with Arthur.

He wonders why Arthur seems to care for his heath so much, no one so far has seemed to care, he didn’t think Arthur did either. Kieran glances around the tent, looking at what items Arthur keeps in it. He still feels a bit dizzy, but he ignores it.

Arthur walks towards Ms. Grimshaw who’s currently talking to Mary-Beth who perks up after seeing Arthur and calls out to him.

“How’s Kieran? Is he awake?”

“He is, Ms. Grimshaw, Kieran should rest for the day” Arthur stands in front of the two women.

Grimshaw sighs “Alright, I suppose he can take the day off.”

Arthur nods and walks off. Before heading back to his tent he decides to get something for Kieran to eat. He realized how skinny the man looked when Arthur took his shirt off. Arthur grabs a bow of Pearsons stew, which isn’t the best food but’ll have to do for now, and heads back to his tent.

When he enters, Arthur sees Kieran awkwardly sitting on his cot, still looking somewhat ill.

“Here, eat somethin’” Arthur hands Kieran the bowl of stew.

Kieran immediately grabs it, thanking Arthur, before quickly shoveling the food down his throat like a starved man.

“Jesus how long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Probably since yesterday?” Kieran says, his words mumbled by the food still in his mouth.

He quickly finished the rest of the food, putting the now empty bowl down on a desk.

“Thank you mister, I don’t know why you’re doin’ all this for me”

“Cause it’s not right to let you suffer, and drop the ‘mister’, it’s Arthur” Arthur looks away for Kieran, seeming somewhat embarrassed by Kieran pointing out his acts of kindness.

“Well alright, thank you Arthur.”

[helloalycia]

moving on [two] // alicia clark

summary: Alicia takes you back to the fire as you desperately hope to find your sister and take her away from Jeremy. Things don't seem to go to plan...

warning/s: mentions of injury and death.

author's note: here’s part two for the few people reading this one aha, hope you like it! ♥️

one / three / four / five / six / wattpad / masterlist

"Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're in a lot of–"

"I'm fine," I cut Alicia off for the millionth time, gritting my teeth.

She glanced at me before nodding and returning her attention to the road. I closed my eyes and looked away, trying to push away the pain in my shoulder. It was hurting a lot more than I realised, the meds Naomi gave me only doing so much. Really, I needed rest, but I couldn't waste time, not when Y/S/N was somewhere out there.

Alicia kept to her word and was taking me back to the fire, which should've long burnt out now. She'd been able to take a car from the stadium which I was surprised they had the gas for, along with some supplies and a gun in case we ran into any trouble.

As we got closer to the building, I noticed a lot of infected hanging around nearby, drawn in by the smoke. Less than when I was here last, but still a lot more than expected. Alicia had to pull up down the road so we wouldn't attract them.

"I don't think she's gonna be in there," Alicia said hesitantly, as if afraid to insult me yet again. It didn't matter – I knew she thought this whole thing was pointless, but I didn't care for her opinion.

Annoyingly though, she was right at the moment. There was no way Y/S/N would have stayed with this much infected around. I wasn't sure what I expected to find.

"Drive past it," I told her. "We set up camp not far from here. If they're still there, that's where she'll be."

Not arguing it, Alicia hummed and turned the engine back on, carefully manoeuvring around the stray infected and following the road away from the fire. I glanced at it in the window, realising how lucky I was to have made it out alive. That, and a small part of me was terrified I'd find my sister walking amongst the dead.

Thankfully, she wasn't.

All of my hopes were placed in the belief that Y/S/N was back at camp with Jeremy and the rest of his gang – it was too soon for them to move on, unless they deemed it unsafe. I didn't want to consider that as an option, since we hadn't talked about where to go next and so if she wasn't here now, I'd truly lost her.

The car ride was quiet except for the occasional direction from myself, and after a tense ride, we finally reached a deserted strip mall. I tried not to worry at the emptiness of it all, knowing this had been full of tents and supplies when I'd been here only a few days ago.

"They should be here," I muttered, mostly to myself, and barely acknowledged Alicia's response when I got out the car and made my way to one of the stores.

Knife raised (since Alicia refused to give me an actual weapon), I ran inside, hoping to find any sign of people. But everything was a mess, empty packets and cans of food left lying around like everybody had moved out.

"No, no, no, no...," I mumbled, the panic growing as I sped around the shelves of the store, expecting to find somebody. "Y/S/N?! Are you here?! It's me!"

There was no answer and I knew they'd left – it only made sense – but I refused to accept it. There had to be something!

I checked the back of the store – a small room where we had left some supplies – but it was empty and anything leftover was simply rubbish. They'd gone.

Y/S/N was gone.

"Y/N," Alicia breathed out when she saw me stepping out from the back room. "I... I'm sorry."

Tears pooling in my eyes, I glanced at her, seeing pity staring back at me. I didn't want her pity, I wanted Y/S/N.

"We never move on this quickly," I said, putting my knife away. "Maybe they went out."

Alicia pressed her lips together, no doubt judging my naïvety. "Or maybe they left because it was too close to the fire. To the infected. Too dangerous."

I frowned, squeezing my fists together. "There's got to be something here to tell me where they went. I'm not giving up."

"Y/N..."

I ignored her protesting voice as I peeled my eyes for any clue to their whereabouts. Alicia called my name as I zipped around the store, flipping over the few belongings that had been left behind, but it was useless.

"There's nothing here, Y/N, maybe you should leave it," Alicia tried, and it only pissed me off further.

"No!" I yelled, spinning around to glare at her. "I'm not just giving up! She may not mean anything to you, but she's my sister!"

"She left you to die!" Alicia retorted, sympathetic eyes flickering between mine.

"She didn't!" I defended her. "It was that fucking arsehole– ugh!"

Out of frustration, I swung my arm at a nearby shelf, it falling to the floor with a crash, and though it temporarily eased my frustrations, it permanently left me with a strike of pain in my shoulder. Immediately wincing, I clutched my arm, cursing at my stupidity.

"Your arm–"

"I'm fine!" I shouted, glaring at the stranger who had no need here, but it wasn't threatening in the slightest because I was a blubbering mess.

"Y/N, you have no idea where she is and they could all be long gone by now," Alicia tried again, this time in a gentler voice. "Your shoulder isn't looking good and if you leave now, it's a suicide mission!"

I sniffled, eyes blurry with tears, too many to make out Alicia's face. I hated how emotional I sounded when I said, "I can't leave her. She's my sister. I can't stop looking, not when she's out there somewhere." Frowning, I let go of my shoulder and wiped away my tears, but only more replaced them. "She's all I have left. You don't get it. I'm supposed to look after her."

Hesitantly, Alicia took a step forward and rested a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You've done all you can right now. You're hurt. You need rest."

She was right. But giving up wasn't easy, even though deep down I knew that finding Y/S/N was impossible. She could be anywhere by now and I had no idea where to start looking.

I still wasn't sure whether she chose to leave me back at the fire or not, but I knew that we shouldn't be apart. Still... oddly enough, I couldn't help but wonder if it was supposed to be like this. We'd been arguing a lot lately, she was changing right before my eyes and I couldn't stop it. I despised Jeremy, but he did keep her safe. Maybe she was finally with people who understood her, not like I did.

"Y/N," Alicia said softly, and I realised I was crying again, the loss stinging more than the pain in my shoulder.

"I know you're right," I said, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper.

Alicia sighed regretfully, dropping her hand. "We have scouts that go out regularly from the stadium to keep an eye on the surrounding areas. I can ask them to keep an eye out for your sister and this gang. If any word or sightings come up, you'll be the first to know."

I glanced at her, wondering why she was being so generous, especially after my lack of gratitude.

"You're not giving up," she assured me, nodding. "We'll be looking. You're just keeping yourself safe. Doing the smart thing, not the reckless one."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, sniffling uncomfortably. Was she right again? Probably. But it wouldn't make losing Y/S/N any easier. My baby sister. Lost.

"Please will you come back to the stadium with me?" she asked carefully, looking up at me through her eyelashes. "Your sister got a fresh start. You deserve one, too."

It was hard to agree, considering it was my fault this had all happened. But I had nowhere to go, and Alicia was the kindest person I'd met in a long time.

"We should go," I confirmed, unable to meet her gaze because I was horribly hurt, embarrassed and still a little angry, though not at her.

She seemed to gauge my mood as she nodded and led the way back to the car. I glanced around at the deserted store, wondering by how much I'd missed them all. It didn't matter, but I still wondered.

When Alicia and I returned to the stadium, time didn't feel real. I followed along as she returned the car and spoke to some of the guards posted at the gate, but none of it was really sticking. Lost in my own head, that's what I was, and the last place I wanted to be was here.

Alicia's mother, Madison Clark, found us by the gate, too. I only knew who she was because she was the one who let us go this morning, understanding my need to find my sister. Of course, now it meant nothing. She was nodding along intently as Alicia explained what we found, but I tuned it out. Until suddenly, I felt her touch my arm briefly, bringing me back to reality.

"...sorry you couldn't find her, Y/N, I really am," Madison was saying, staring at me with the same sympathy her daughter had been this whole time. "We'll keep an eye out for her and hopefully something will come up. But for now, you should stay here and rest up. This place could be something special for you if you allow it."

Admittedly, the southern twinge in her accent and the fact that she was the first elderly maternal figure I'd come across since losing my own made me feel a little better, but then the hurt returned when she let go and I was back to feeling lost.

Alicia said a few more things, none of it meaning a thing to me, before Madison left us. Only when she nudged my arm slightly did I realise she was asking me something.

"What was that?" I asked, blinking with realisation.

Hiding a frown, she asked, "Are you alright with going back to see Naomi? She should check on your shoulder."

Feeling like I didn't have much of a choice or interest in the matter, I shrugged halfheartedly and followed after her.

I hadn't wanted to return empty handed. Maybe I had let my mind run wild last night, imagining a scenario where we found Y/S/N and I finally convinced her to leave Jeremy, to come back with me to the stadium. Being here without her was a permanent reminder of what I'd failed to do.

Naomi checked me out once more, but I barely remembered it. A few stitches had come loose (no doubt a result of my tantrum) and she fixed me up quickly enough.

Soon after, Alicia said something about a tour of the place, but considering she led me straight to my own small room that had been newly built, I could only assume she meant another time.

"This is all for me?" I asked with surprise, looking around the small wooden shed that had had a glass window and enough space to house a bed, dresser and desk. More than I'd had in a long time.

"Yeah, it's one of the newer rooms we've built since we have the space," she said casually, like this wasn't the biggest luxury of all. "Also, I didn't think you'd want to share with a stranger right now. But if you find yourself getting lonely, I can arrange for a roommate."

All I could think to do was nod, in slight disbelief as I looked around the space. Everything was spotless, ready to be lived in. And to my dismay, the first thing I thought was how it would be the first space I'd live in without Y/S/N.

"I'll leave you to get settled," Alicia spoke when I didn't. "Lunch will be served soon. I can come and get you and show you around a little from there. Is that okay?"

I was glad not to be facing her, otherwise she'd see me shamefully trying to wipe away some tears. Why couldn't we have found this place sooner? I'd still have my sister. We could have been safe. It was right under our noses this whole time and we'd missed it.

"Y/N–"

"That's fine," I cut her off before she could attempt to comfort me. "Thank you."

For some bizarre reason, the brunette was persistent as she found my gaze worriedly. "It's been a long few days for you. I understand this can feel overwhelming. If you want to talk about it–"

"I said I'm fine, Alicia," I interrupted a little too harshly, before adding, "Thanks," in a poor attempt to ease the blow.

She didn't seem offended, not entirely anyway, as she nodded. "Right. Well, I'll be back in a bit. Be careful with your stitches."

I nodded, watching as she left me to it. When the door closed behind her, I finally felt like I could breathe, no longer under her watchful stare. It was a lot to process, her personality a big question on its own, but I couldn't begin to think about that right now. Not that, not this place and it's privileges, not anything.

Y/S/N was plaguing my thoughts. She was gone, for now, but she was still out there somewhere. She had to be. And I wouldn't give up until I knew she was definitely safe.

I knew this, and yet the tears still rolled down my cheeks and I still found myself sobbing in the corner of the room, mourning her like she was truly gone.

Settling into the stadium was much more difficult than I realised. And not at the fault of the people here – they were actually some of the nicest bunch I'd met in a long time – but because I was still in denial about Y/S/N.

Wherever I went, whatever I did, I'd think of her. How couldn't I? She was my family, my sister, the person who knew me the best. We'd been together our whole lives and now suddenly we weren't? It was the worst feeling, one I couldn't adjust to. Every day for as long as I'd been here this past week, I'd asked the patrol in the evenings if they'd seen or heard anything about Jeremy and his gang. It was always the same answer: no.

The stadium itself was difficult to adjust to as I still couldn't get used to seeing so many people, a community, altogether at once. Y/S/N and I had been on the run for so long, I'd forgotten what a community felt like. Everybody helped each other out, befriended one another, took turns with chores, acted like a family. There was no constant looking over your shoulder for fear of infected or wondering where your next meal would come from – every day was like a breath of fresh air. The closest thing to normal I'd seen since the world went to shit.

I should have been grateful, I know it. And I would have if you'd caught me at any other point in my life, but not now. Not when I couldn't accept it all without my sister by my side.

I mostly kept to myself, finding it easier that way. After Alicia had given me that initial tour, she offered to introduce me to some people to help me settle in, but I had no interest in doing so. At mealtimes, I would stick to my own table. When I'd sign up for chores in the morning, I'd only converse if I had to. Apart from speaking with Naomi about my health when she checked on my shoulder, I rarely spoke. It wasn't healthy, I knew that much, but it was hard to enjoy anything without Y/S/N.

It didn't stay like that forever though.

One day, I was on laundry duty, scrubbing some clothes on a washboard but very much lost in my own thoughts – a common pastime of mine lately, it seemed.

"Hey!" a voice shouted, startling me from my thoughts and making me look up. It was Alicia. "You've gotta start pulling your weight around here, those clothes aren't gonna wash themselves."

Worried, I straightened up and looked back to the washboard, scrubbing the clothes faster. "S-sorry, I'm on it."

"Hey, hey, hey," she said quickly, stopping my hands with her own. An apologetic smile was on her lips as she said, "I'm kidding, relax."

I sighed quietly, embarrassed as I looked away. "Right."

"I just wanted to ask how you're doing," she continued, losing her smile when she realised I wasn't amused. "I feel like we haven't spoken much since you've been here."

She was being polite about it, but we both knew it was intentional on my part. Every time she looked like she wanted to talk to me, I'd actively avoid her. It wasn't anything she'd done, more so that I knew I'd have to open up to her because she wasn't one to leave things alone, and I certainly wasn't ready for that.

"It's safe," I said truthfully, answering her question, hoping it would be what she wanted to hear and convince her to leave me be. "Everybody is nice. It's nice to be guaranteed a meal, one that nobody had to die for."

When she didn't respond, I glanced up and realised she was frowning, making me feel bad.

"Sorry, never mind," I said awkwardly, clearing my throat.

"No, it's okay," she found her voice again, the sympathy returning. "I know what it's like out there. How hard it can be."

I hummed uncomfortably, unsure what else to say. My eyes were on the bucket of water that my hands were stuck in as I wondered whether or not she'd leave, but then she spoke up again.

"Do you, maybe, wanna hang out when you're done?" she asked politely. "I was gonna–"

"I'm okay," I answered before she could waste another breath. The last thing I wanted was even more of her pity, even if she was only trying to be nice.

Surprised at my abruptness, she licked her lips and nodded slowly. "Hmm, yeah, no worries. Well, I'll be around if you need anything. Or change your mind."

I nodded, knowing I wouldn't, and she awkwardly walked away, leaving me to do my job.

In the week I'd been here, I still hadn't pinpointed what Alicia's story was. Despite not speaking to people much, it wasn't hard to eavesdrop on conversations or gain the occasional context from people whilst working. It still wasn't enough though.

All I'd gathered was that Alicia and her family were adamant on keeping this place safe, secure and open to those who needed a home. It didn't make sense why she was so kind and wanted to help people – nobody was that nice without a hidden motive. I was still trying to figure it out, but the more I observed the girl, the more I began to believe that maybe she was just one of those rare nice people, one of the few left in the world.

Lucky me, I guess.

That same evening, after dinner, I was stretching my legs and going for a walk around the stadium with the intention of making it back to my room to have a quiet night in (the usual for me nowadays).

It wasn't too cold out, the weather finally starting to feel like spring, and the sun had just set so it left me in a rare yet peaceful mood. I was somewhat enjoying the time alone, not really thinking of anything in particular, when I felt something hit my foot. Confused, I stopped and looked down, realising it was a toy car. How did that get there?

Before I could think to do anything, it whirred to life and reversed a little before attempting to drive forward again, once again hitting the tip of my shoe. A second car rolled onto the scene, slamming into the first one at full speed, resulting it in landing upside down. Whoever was controlling it attempted to move it with the controls, the wheels spinning in the air, but it was stuck.

I looked up, very much lost, and spotted a kid cheering in the distance, a remote in hand and grin on her face. Alicia was kneeling beside her, a remote in hand also, and looked like she was scolding her briefly before standing up and meeting my eyes apologetically. Jogging over to me, she smiled awkwardly.

I bent down to pick up the upside down car as the other one drove away, standing up as Alicia stopped before me.

"Hey, sorry about that," she said quickly, eyes darting to the car nervously.

"S'okay," I said, before giving it back to her. Unsure what else to say, I added, "So, er, is this what you do for fun?"

I cringed as soon as I said it, internally kicking myself for sounding like an idiot.

She snickered nervously, shrugging as she played with the car between her fingers. "I found some batteries for them and thought little Aaliyah might want to do something fun."

I glanced over at the young girl in question, watching as she continued to play with her car with a permanent grin fixed on her face. It was strange seeing a child get to be a child, but it felt right. It was how it was supposed to be, and Alicia was pretty sweet to give her this experience.

"Looks fun," was all I could think to say.

Alicia hummed in agreement, glancing over at Aaliyah, too, before her green eyes met mine. "I was going to ask if you wanted to join us earlier, but I... er..."

I realised what she was referring to and immediately felt bad for blowing her off so suddenly.

"Sorry if I offended you," she decided on, sounding genuine. "I know that you're still settling in–"

"No, no need to apologise," I interrupted, feeling mildly guilty for icing her out unnecessarily. "I'm sorry. It was rude of me to decline like I did. You were just being nice and I..." I sighed inwardly. "Thank you for the offer."

She pursed her lips, nodding slowly. I assumed she'd leave it there, but her eyes lingered on mine hopefully before she said, "The offer's still there if you wanna reconsider..."

I paused, surprised that she still wanted to hang out with me after how I'd acted. Then she wiggled the remote a little in her hands in an admittedly cute attempt to entice me, and it annoyingly worked.

A ghost of a smile on my lips, I accepted the remote from her. "Thanks."

Her own smile appeared, softening her features, and she put the car back on the ground for me to use.

I hadn't played with a remote-controlled car since I was a kid, so playing with one now was certainly something. Definitely a time I wouldn't forget, not with Alicia sticking by my side like we were kids in a playground that had suddenly decided to play games with each other. We played together with Aaliyah, engaging in little competitions, and it was admittedly the first time I'd thought about something other than Y/S/N. The first time I'd felt myself smile since coming here.

It was a weird feeling and I almost felt guilty for feeling like I was living again, but I didn't get chance to because Alicia's laughter and Aaliyah's cheering would distract me, and I'd have no need to think otherwise.

Y/S/N and I had stuck together all of our lives and especially during this apocalypse, so I hadn't had room or time for friends since it had all started. I was rusty, clearly, but it was a pleasure to be able to hang out with someone – to hang out with Alicia – and see a potential friendship. Though, I was still in denial about that last part, of course.

The next morning, I was heading to get breakfast as usual, planning to sit alone like I always did. But as I was about to join the queue to collect my food, none other than Alicia found me and joined me with a small smile.

"Good morning," she greeted, lining up behind me in the queue.

It was out of the ordinary for her to greet me, especially since it was obvious I'd been actively avoiding her recently and she knew not to approach me. But last night seemed to have changed the dynamic a little, and I didn't completely hate it.

"Morning." I returned her smile, albeit a little more tired than I wanted.

I moved up the line as trays were being handed out, closer to getting my food, when Alicia spoke up again.

"So, would it be overstepping if I asked if you wanted to sit with me this morning?"

My first instinct was to decline, the words on the tip of my tongue as I glanced over at her. But then she smiled at me – curse her friendly smile – and waited patiently for an answer, and then I remembered how I actually liked being around people last night, so maybe it wasn't a bad thing to say yes.

"It wouldn't, no," I answered, hoping it was the right thing. "Thanks."

She nodded, suppressing her smile as she looked away. "Great."

We both collected our breakfast – something I was still getting used to because of how varied it was every morning – and I followed her to a table. The one she chose already had two people seated there, whom I recognised to be her brother, Nick, and his girlfriend, Luciana. I hadn't formally been introduced to Nick, but I'd heard of him through others over the last week. And of course, Luciana had been with Alicia when they found me.

"Hey, guys," Alicia greeted when she took a seat opposite them. "Y/N is gonna join us this morning. Be nice."

"I'm always nice," Luciana said, making Alicia smile with amusement.

"You're right, Luci, my bad. I obviously meant my idiot brother," she corrected herself, making her brother grin.

I slid in beside Alicia, offering a small, awkward smile to the couple.

"I'm always nice, too, for the record," her brother said to me with a playful smile, before introducing himself. "I'm Nick, Alicia's brother."

"And I'm Luciana, as you know," Luciana added with a friendly smile. "It's nice to properly meet you, Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you both, too," I returned politely, knowing they were just as much in charge of this place as Alicia and her mum, even if they all claimed there was no official 'leaders'. I didn't want to make a bad first impression, though I was sure I was a little late with that.

"How are you finding it here so far? You've been here for a week or so, right?" Luciana asked with genuine interest.

"It's a lot better than what I'm used to," I said truthfully, before looking down at the scrambled eggs in my plate. "I dreamed of eggs once upon a time. Now I actually have them."

She smiled with amusement. "Yeah, it's a little hard to believe sometimes."

"The best bit is when we get to have the beef," Nick said with a satisfied smile, as if remembering something. "We pull out the grill, have a barbecue. It's just like old times."

"Oh, yeah, because back at home you used to love having family barbecues," Alicia said sarcastically, giving her brother a knowing look.

Nick grinned. "You're just jealous that I used to get my burger made before yours."

"It wasn't jealousy," she corrected him, like they'd had this discussion many times. "You used to sit and do nothing whilst I helped mum and dad out with the food, then waltz on in to get served first. It wasn't fair."

"That's not how I remember it," Nick teased, scrunching his nose.

Alicia raised her brows. "You might wanna get your head checked then. Because I'm right."

Nick shrugged, going for a forkful of eggs. "Jealous."

"Right."

"Jealous."

"Right."

I couldn't tell if they were arguing or sharing playful banter, as I looked between them like a tennis match. Luciana glanced at me, unbothered by it.

"You learn to tune it out," she assured me.

I nodded slowly, wondering if that were true, then the Clark siblings finally put their petty argument to rest and turned the conversation back to me.

"So, what did you sign up for today?" Nick asked, making conversation.

"I, er, said I'd help with the cattle," I said. "I'm just kinda trying everything out to see what I like."

"Aww, that's good, you're helping Nick's family out," Alicia teased, looking to her brother with a mischievous smile.

He tried to fight his own smile as he rolled his eyes. "Really funny that was, Alicia. You should be a comedian. Seriously."

"Maybe in a different life, who knows?" she played along, trying to annoy him.

"Though I suppose the audience would be too distracted by your ugly face to listen to the jokes," he added, making her scoff.

"Asshole."

"Says you?"

"Yeah, to you."

They continued to bicker, all of it lighthearted and in good faith, and as Luciana said, she tuned it out and kept eating. I smiled a little, finding their insults to one another amusing, but it also saddened me a little, reminding me of my relationship with Y/S/N, or what it was once like before she started to change.

And just like that, the grief returned, washing over me like a tidal wave, and it only made me hurt more.

"I'm gonna get a head start on my chores," I said suddenly, losing my appetite and not wanting to be here anymore. "Thanks for the company."

As I stood up, about to leave, Alicia looked up at me with concerned eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and I simply nodded, briefly meeting her gaze before looking away.

"All good. Thanks again." And with that, I left them to it, knowing the temporary happiness was too good to be true.

It was amazing how one thing could put me in a sour mood for the rest of the morning, even as I worked on feeding and washing the cattle with some of the others.

I'd almost felt like myself again, but it was snatched away in an instant, Y/S/N returning to mind. Again, I'd asked the patrols last night if they'd seen or heard anything about her, but still I was met with nothing. She was still out there and I was still in here with no choice but to stay.

Would this place every truly feel like a home to me?

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #29 | 03.27.23

Hi everyone!

April is almost here, which terrifies me since the year is going by so fast. Before I get into game updates, I wanted to share a bit of a (somewhat) personal one.

This month, progress on Alaris was overall a bit slow---or at least, slower than usual. I noticed this month I was struggling a lot with working on basically anything, whether it was for school, work, Alaris, or just taking care of myself. And I realized basically a year late that I was feeling extremely burnt out.

For those who have been following Alaris for a long time, you may know that early 2022, I was struggling with a lot of personal circumstances. I had taken a week off back then to "take time for myself," but in actuality, I had continued working on Alaris and other things because sometimes when I have too much time on my hands, it's worse for my mental health. This was a recurring theme for basically all of 2022. Even during the holiday breaks (e.g., summer, November, December, etc.), I continued working on Alaris, partly because I love the project, partly because it helps me cope with irl things.

This past month, I think the break that I've desperately needed since the start of 2022 made itself Very Apparent and made progress slow on my end. I'm very sorry if the update this month is disappointing because of that! I tried to take a break this past week and am feeling a bit better now, so hopefully, things start to get back on track this upcoming month <3 With that, I'll get into actual updates!

Writing

I'm not going to lie to you all; writing was Slow this month LOL. Basically, the entire writing team got taken out by some sickness or another. I would say for 2-3 weeks of the month, there was no progress on editing or writing at all since everyone was sick at the same time <\3 We are starting to pick things back up, but please send your best wishes to the writing team since they were Going Through It this month!! Also, if you got sick this month and got whatever has been going around globally, I hope you are feeling better as well <333

I did update a good amount of the demo script---just rewriting things since my writing style has changed a little. Small things, but hopefully enjoyable changes nonetheless!

Art

As always, we have continued to make progress on BG art. This month, Vui finished the River BG and the Forest BG, both of which appear in Chapter 2 of the demo. We actually only have one more BG to finish, which is the Flower Field, and all the BGs for the demo will be complete (ahh!!!). It's been about 5 (?) months in the making to revamp all the BGs for the demo, but we are finally reaching the finish line, and everything is slowly getting ready for a revamped demo release ^^

preview of the forest BG

I also have a preview of the GUI for you all! There will be some small changes, like colors, before the final version. But a little crumb to feed you all since I didn't make much progress this month

I also mentioned in the last devlog how I might update the personality icons for Alaris, which were completed this month by the same item artist who did the affection point icons!

The overall vision for this was little potions to build on the "magical" setting of Alaris. I think they're much easier to differentiate and so cute <3

My focus was more on demo art assets for this month, so I finished up the individual CGs for each of the LI's introductions.

soft and fluffy updated Etza CG

I also started updating the sprites a bit---mostly small touches so the art looks a bit more cohesive since my style has changed a bit since the demo first came out. Aisa and Kuna'a are receiving outfit changes so that their clothing stands out from Central gang and looks more cohesive with the aesthetic that will be used for Fae.

Additional Notes

Something else I got to work on this month was finally reviewing the demo voiced lines in full. I hope you all are EXCITED to listen to them in the updated demo! A lot of the lines had me giggling (heehee!). I can't wait to see everything together once it's coded into the game ^^

I also opened applications for playtesters. They close at the end of this month, aka in a couple of days. So if you are interested, please don't forget to submit an application! Thank you already to everyone who has submitted something. The response was more than I expected, so as always, I appreciate the support you all provide wah <3

Market Research

Lastly, I actually got to do some "market research" this month (yay!). I finished up Piofiore finally.

the man, the legend: gilbert redford

Touchstarved also came out. I unfortunately haven't been able to play the demo yet since I was traveling when it was released, but I already know I'll love it and I drew Kuras even though I haven't even played the game yet LMAO

gender envy

Anyways, I think that's enough from me, so that is all for this month's update! Stay safe, and see you all next month <3

[sfb123]

*I decided to make a banner that encompasses my current vibe. IYKYK*

Thank you so much for the tag @ao719!

I am actually currently working on two separate AU series. I have know idea if when they will drop, but here is a little teaser from each.

Baby I Would (Working Title)

“Riley? Are you in there?” Maxwell’s voice from the other end of the door finally got her attention.

“It’s open, Max.” She called. 

Maxwell stepped into the room, Chance’s tail wagging faster as he got closer to the bed. He finally sat down beside Riley, scratching Chance behind the ears. 

“Are you alright, Ri? You seem like you’ve had something on your mind today.”

“Oh, I’m fine Max,” she smiled kindly at her friend. “I guess I’m just a little burnt out is all. I already can’t wait for tonight to be over.” 

It was taking everything in her not to tell Maxwell what was going on. She felt bad keeping such a big secret from her friend; but mostly, she just wished she had someone to talk to. Maxwell had been an incredible support system since day one. Everything that had happened was because of him, he was the one that convinced her to come to Cordonia. 

“Hey,” Maxwell said gently, watching her expression change. He knew she was starting to drift off again. “Everything is going to work out. I feel it in my bones.” 

Riley wrapped her arms around Maxwell and pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks, Max.” She took a deep breath, composing herself before pulling out of the embrace. “So I take it you’re here so we can go find something for me to wear tonight?”

Hands Down (Working Title)

Riley chuckled quietly to herself. 

“Laughter isn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for after that.” Liam said, looking down at her.

“You said fuck.” She sing-songed. “I’ve never heard you swear before.” 

“I suppose I got carried away in the moment. I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t apologize. It was hot.” She looked up at him with a smirk, he arched a brow in response. You’re so propper all the time, hearing that fancy accent say dirty words really did something to me.” 

“Good to know.” Liam laughed, his lips quickly meeting hers.

It's late, and I think most of you have already been tagged, but whatcha got, gang? @txemrn @charlotteg234 @sincerelyella @burnsoslow @emkay512 @tessa-liam

[planetary]

here i answered some of those bg3 character asks on my own 👍 if any of this is inconsistent with Actual dnd lore sorry i dont know shit. my city now ^_^ IO BLAST 💥

1: Where in the Faerûn is your Tav from?

underdark. scary spidery part of it

2: What is your character's alignment?

chaotic good. mostly.

3: Race and subclass?

seldarine drow, tempest domain cleric of selûne

4: If your Tav was a companion, where would they be found?

probably around that temple ruin you discover withers in at orrr at the goblin camp breaking into the selûnite temple lmao. she’s been there before so she just wants to get to a familiar place to sit while she processes wtf is going on

9: Is your Tav from Baldur's Gate? Why are they travelling there?

i dont think so. she doesn’t really live anywhere she just fucks around. she’s going there bc her companions want to and she doesnt have anything else to do. she left the underdark thru that temple in the game so unless she wandered pretty far, shes from around the act 1 area

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

no and she’s actually hilariously awful at it. when she played the spider lyre the drider that showed up was like good fucking lord knock it off

11: Weapon of choice?

i always draw her with the blood of lathander but i think right now she has a deva mace i got from killing a deva after robbing a shrine and getting cursed. so. maces

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

its not really her first choice but it is her second one. like if just being friendly doesnt work out after 2 minutes shes like well gang i guess we just have to kill these guys.

14: What hobbies does your Tav have?

i think she likes sewing and robbing people and breaking into places and stealing

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

yeah she loves just fucking off doing whatever

18: What would your Tav be doing if they weren't kidnapped on the Nautiloid?

fucking off doing whatever. worshipping selûne and just being loose in the woods i think. maybe breaking into someone’s basement

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

either trying to forgive someone who does not want to be forgiven OR that assassin that’s hunting her is going to fucking get her. you know how it is with the assassin

21: What is your Tav's favorite spell?

CALL LIGHTNING!!!!!!

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

um. common. drow…? is that a thing. she’s learning the githyanki language also. and apparently she knows infernal

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

yepyep since im pretty sure thats a selûne thing right

25: What arcana major best represents your Tav?

ah man i have to think of all of them. major arcana… fuckkk. ill get back to u. whatever the future tense of the tower is. she already burnt everything down and rebuilt from the ashes. her character development at this point is learning not to lace her corset so tight and being really proud if her friends

26: What animal best represents your Tav?

maybe a birdie. cute little bird. or a snake. not a hostile snake though just one of the ones that hangs out and chills

27: What was their life like before the events of BG3?

she was born into house helvindar in the underdark and was raised as a war cleric of lolth (EVIL SPIDER GODDESS!). was a really good one. made a lot of sacrifices and had a looot of potential. people knew of her and were sometimes even impressed by her ruthlessness and devotion. but she started realizing that lolth didnt really have a goal, she just wanted to create chaos. they weren’t working towards anything. there was no purpose for any of this. and as she started doubting her faith she started developing empathy and got resentful of all the things she’d done just for ultimately nothing, not even her goddess’s favor. eventually she discovered that abandoned selûnite temple down there and made up her mind that she was going to flee the underdark. her elder sister found out and followed her there, they fought, but ultimately io escaped into the surface temple and stumbled outside all bloody and disoriented. she saw the moon for the first time and since it was an old selûnite temple that’d granted her escape she sought out others and eventually became a cleric of selûne. her eye was damaged in the fight with her sister, and has been replaced with a moonstone as a gift of recognition from selûne. she’s very devoted but due to her beginnings as a lolth worshipper she doesnt take any issue with whoever serving shitty or people. she’s like well shit happens. I’d like if you stopped torturing people but i believe in freedom and choices so no pressure

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

yeah she is but she does kind of consider lae’zel to be running this shit sometimes since she knows the most about mindflayers and all that. she just happens to be a good influence on everyone by accident by being so chill and accepting of everything

30: What's your favorite thing about your Tav?

i like her kind of like. internal conflict sort of? like she’s very sympathetic and open to forgiving/helping people who are fucked up bc she used to be fucked up like she was ritual sacrificing kids which apparently drow do, crazy shit!!! but she struggles with knowing like, how far to go. she knows not everyone can be helped/saved and she’s ultimately fine with killing them if she’s gotta. but she wonders sometimes if she gave up too early or if she gave the other person too much leeway. like… at what point is it not worth trying to help someone anymore. she also worries that her nonchalance and acceptance of “evil” people is going to put her friends in danger cuz she likes to trust people. she forgets people can and will lie. every betrayal is a surprise for her bc she wants to believe everyone is as upfront and open and honest as she is and then shes like FUCK. which is fun :)

and finally here is the desc for tempest cleric that i love so much for her;

Your faith has made you the very thunder that quakes the black firmament, the lightning coursing through the veins of a terrible storm.

[yannfredericks]

hey!!!!! is life after going to be updated anytime soon???? obviously no pressure or anything if u are going thru shit or decided to DNF it i so understand i just really love that fic and want to see it thru if there is a thru to see 🥲🥲

hiiiii!!! I am so so sorry, I would have posted an update on here but I honestly didn't think anyone who cared would see it! I genuinely didn't mean or expect to leave it this long, when I last updated it was a week before I week to europe for a month and then when I got home I unexpectedly and quite suddenly had to pack up and move across the country so I have been very burnt out dealing with all of that and adjusting to my new life :0 I love that you care so much and it has made my day that you messaged to follow up! I can't promise an update time or schedule, but I have no intentions of leaving it unfinished, it's just going to be much slower than I was initially anticipating :( I have been writing and have about 10k of the next chapter roughly written, plus I've had a lot more time recently to work on it so fingers crossed that it isn't too far away! There is definitely a thru to see <3 I don't think the gang would let me get away with not finishing their story

Here is a little snippet for you <3

Slowly, Albus brings his hands up to pat him on the back. He wants it to be nice so, so badly, but the dark, crawling ball of anger inside him drowns out any nice feelings with its garbled, paradoxical screams of ‘this is not enough’ and ‘this is more than you could ever hope to deserve.’ So. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” James tries again, “and I’m sorry that I somehow keep making it worse. The truth is I’m not very good at this stuff.” Albus bites back a sarcastic, ‘do you think?’ “You’ve always handled conflict much better than me.” That actually makes Albus laugh out loud. “I don’t think I’ve handled anything well since the day I was born, you can ask literally anyone.” James is smiling when he finally pulls back, but it’s too close to pity for Albus’s liking. The phantom pressure of his touch lingers exclusively to remind him of just how pathetically desperate he is for any form of physical affection and equally how repulsed that desire makes him feel. “Well, yes, okay,” James relents, “but you don’t shy away from it. You speak your mind even when—especially when—it’s hard, and maybe that isn’t always a good thing, but it’s brave as hell. You scare the fuck out of me sometimes, actually, because I know you’ll hold me accountable when I mess up. It’s intimidating. I don’t know how you do it.” “I don’t know about brave.” Albus admits. “Mostly it just bursts out of me.” He turns James’s words over in his mind, inspecting every angle and hidden meaning there. He’s never considered his hot-headed tendencies to have any upsides to them, but James talks about them with an unexpected reverence. “Still, I couldn’t do it.”

[aeroteaka]

...I'm bored. So you know what? Let's kill some time and practice some creative writing at the same time. Have you guys heard of Single Player Tabletop RPG's? The one I found in particular is a journal style game. Writing the random encounters that happen to your character. Lets see how long I can keep this up.

Journal From The Guilty Cat

Day 1

     I’m exhausted, it took three weeks of travel to get out of the reach of Khador. I swear you hide one single spy just that once without really knowing it and all of a sudden you’re a threat to the entire kingdom. Who knew I was so important? Then it’s taken another couple weeks to sell off some parts. It takes time to set up a tavern, let alone one where people can’t find you. It’s not all bad though, it’s quiet, a nice location off the beaten path in the city, if today's opening tells me anything it’s going to be an interesting place. Hopefully this one won’t be burnt down…let me recount everything while it’s fresh in my mind. Never know what I’ll forget so it’s best to keep track. 

     I had just opened up for the night, and I was graced with a lovely enchantress swinging in. I had seen her around town often enough. Never had the chance to get her name till this point. For privacy sake we’ll call her Five of Cups….I insist that has nothing to do with what she was wearing or how much they runneth over. Nonetheless it was lovely having her in. She ordered a dinner set and while I cooked we chatted. From the sound of things the city needed a new tavern. All the foot traffic was starting to cause some owners to burn out. She hopes having me here will ‘alleviate some stress’ for some folks. Herself included, apparently she works somewhere nearby but we didn’t really get into that. We mostly enjoyed each other's company and spoke of local things. Noble Gossip, recent happenings, you learn a lot from the locals. Wish she was the only one to come in on the first night. She left not to long after the second group arrived.

    Turns out my little tavern had been quite the buzz amongst people. So much so that when the second shift ended at a local factory the Laborers decided to come on by for my grand opening. Most of them got comfy in a corner of my tavern while their leader? Shift lead? I don’t know who he was, but if i’m sticking to this naming motif let's call him the Knight of Wands, he worked his way up to the bar to order his boys drinks and food. Thankfully it wasn’t hard to handle, a couple pints, and food orders were quick. I just wish they weren’t so rowdy. It’s my first night opening and I seriously didn’t need to catch the City Guard Ire that quickly. Knight of Cups paid well, apparently they liked the service. He did mention he wished there was more, but I just opened. I’m not going to dip my hands into anything else….yet. Look, a man can’t make a living off of bread and meat alone.  Before things got too bad he got his boys out. Apparently there was some heated debate going on. I didn’t catch much of it, kinda busy with cooking. Shame Five of Cups had to leave when they arrived. The Knight of Cups crew took their time leaving. Which is fine by me. 

     After that it was pretty dead, only one small little thing left to do. I got in good with a local gang. I’m not going to name names because that’d be stupid. They helped me set up and with a small cut every so often they’ll help me stay under the radar. It’s going to take awhile to get used to things. But I have high hopes for this place. Anything is better than being under Khadors boot.

[miryum]

Parent-Teacher Conference (Darry x Reader)

Darrel Curtis waved one last time to Pony’s teacher and closed the door behind him. He walked a little farther before leaning on the lockers. Sighing and running a hand through his slicked back hair, he allowed himself to relax. Parent-teacher conferences weren’t the worst- mostly because Pony was such a good student- but he got some weird looks from the Soc parents. They didn’t know that he wasn’t Pony’s father- they just assumed that he had him when he was younger. 

Darry wished everyday that his parents were still alive. The weight of everything crashes over him every time he allows himself a moment of rest. So he keeps moving. Never let yourself stop to let everything catch up to you. 

Because Pony was such a good kid, these conferences didn’t last long. He only had one more to go and then he could go back home. 

Praying that the gang hadn’t burnt down the house yet, Darry started down the hall. 

He saw some other parents and some kids, but for the most part, the halls were empty.

But then, he turned the corner and a body rammed against his. 

“I'm so sorry!” A voice exclaimed, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Darry said, “You?” He looked at the person he ran into and his eyes went wide. The girl was beautiful. She was wearing a leather jacket and jeans with a red bandana tied around her head to keep her hair up. Her eyes were sparkling and laughing and her smile was contagious.

“I’m good.” The girl said, her voice capturing and musical to Darry’s ears, “Gotta go!” 

The girl ran away, turning to wave back at him. Darry waved back, a wistful look on his face. 

Just then another figure turned the corner, barreling the same way that the girl went. A middle-aged custodian ran after the girl, yelling out, “Y/n L/n! Get back here!” 

Darry could hear the girl laugh from down the hall. 

Y/n L/n. Darry thought to himself. What an amazing name. 

***

The second time Darry ran into Y/n wasn’t until a couple days later. 

Darry didn’t know how he didn’t notice her around town more often, but he was glad that he recognized her now. 

Oddly enough, they met at the police station. Y/n was waiting by the door, whistling innocently. 

“Hey you!” She exclaimed as he got closer. 

“Hey,” Darry said, the weight of Dally being in jail again lifting off his shoulders, “Y/n, right?” 

“How’d you know?” Y/n asked suspiciously.

“I heard the custodian yell it when he was running after you.” Darry said. 

“Ah.” Y/n laughed, “I certainly gave ol’ Landon a run for his money.” 

“What did you do that was so bad it got his attention?” Darry asked, Dally long forgotten.

Y/n shrugged but grinned, “I graffitied the boys restroom.” 

“Nice.” Darry then paused. When was the last time he had applauded vandalism? “So how come you’re not the one in the cooler?” 

“I’m too quick to get caught. But one of my buddies is in there. I’m waiting for him as I can’t go in, otherwise they would arrest me as well. What about you?”

“Same as you. One of my friends.” 

“Cool.” 

The door of the police station opened and a young man stepped out. He looked around, smirking, until he saw Y/n. 

“Y/n/n!” He cried, running towards her, “Thanks for bailin’ me out, sis.” 

“No problem.” Y/n pulled the man into a side hug, slapping his back.

“I better get going.” Darry jerked a thumb towards the door. He started towards it, but paused when Y/n called out. 

“Hey!” She yelled, “What’s your name?” 

“Darrel. But you can call me Darry.” 

“Nice to meetcha, Darry.” He loved the way his name fell from her lips.

***

The third time the two ran into each other was three days afterwards.

Darry was driving home from work when he saw Y/n sitting on a bench in the park, head in her hands. He stopped the car and walked over to her. 

“Hey Y/n.” He said, hands in his pockets. 

Y/n bolted up, switchblade out. Darry jumped back. Y/n relaxed when she saw it was Darry. 

“Sorry Darry.” She said, putting the blade away, “I’m just really jumpy.” 

“No kidding.” Darry laughed nervously, “What’s wrong? You’re hurt.” His hand lifted up to the black eye and cut lip that Y/n sported. He stopped himself before he touched her.

“Some Socs jumped me and my brother. The rest of our gang didn’t get there until my brother was beaten up pretty badly. He’s in the hospital right now. I don’t know if he’s gonna make it.” 

“Why aren’t you there with him?” Darry asked, sitting on the bench.

“I couldn’t take any bad news. My gang’ll tell me if anything happens.” Y/n sat down as well. 

“I’m sorry.” Darry whispered, “I lost my parents a few years back. I know how it feels- the uncertainty”

“Oh.” Y/n looked at him and then, outta nowhere, she hugged him. 

Darry returned the hug, squeezing Y/n tightly. 

“Do you at least have some family left?” Y/n asked quietly. 

“Brothers.” Darry pulled away, “Blood and not. We look out for each other.”

“That’s nice.” Y/n leaned her head on Darry’s shoulder and they sat for a while, watching the sky darken and the lights of the stars slowly appear. 

After a while, they heard shouts and calls. Darry saw three people come around the corner. Two, he recognized, but one he didn’t. Dally and Steve were the ones flanking the third person.

“Vicky?” Y/n called, “What’s wrong?” 

“You know her?” Darry said, standing up. Darry nodded to Steve and Dally, who started towards him.

Y/n nodded, rushing towards Vicky. They talked in hushed voices, just out of hearing from the three boys.

“Who’s the broad?” Dally asked.

“Y/n L/n.” Darry replied, “And she’s not a broad. She’s actually really nice- although a little reckless. You would like her, Dal.” 

Dally grunted. 

“Anyway,” Darry continued, “Why are you guys here?” 

Steve crossed his arms, “You didn’t come home and Pony started to worry. We came out to look for you. And then we ran into this chick.” He nodded towards Vicky, “She seemed a little… tougher, so we followed her here.” 

Darry scoffed, “Like that wasn’t creepy or anything.” 

Darry heard a scream that brought his attention towards Y/n and Vicky. Y/n started running away, towards the hospital. Darry started to jog after her, “You two go back to the gang. I’ll be home soon. Tell them not to worry!” 

Dally and Steve called after him, but Darry was soon running to catch up to Y/n. 

As he passed Vicky, Vicky started to run after him, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She barked.

“I’m making sure my friend’s okay.” Darry said, focusing on his feet pounding against the grass. 

Vicky quickly caught up to him, “Everything’s fine! Her brother’s gonna be okay! She’s just excited to see him!” 

“Oh.” Darry slowed down.

“This doesn’t concern you!” Vicky didn’t stop, running after Y/n, “Go back to your own gang!” 

***

It was about a month later when Darry saw Y/n for the fourth time. She showed up at his door, smiling awkwardly. 

“Hey.” Darry closed the door behind him and gestured for her to sit down on the porch.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for that night.” Y/n said, “I’m sorry that I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I was busy with my brother and the rest of my gang.”

“It’s alright. I assumed.” Darry sat down next to her, “What brings you here?” 

“I wanted to know if you would like to do something.” Y/n said, looking up at him, “Just the two of us.” 

“Like, a date?” Darry asked, happiness spreading in him. 

“If that’s what you want, then yeah.” 

“I would. I would like that a lot.” Darry smiled. 

“Good.” Y/n said, matching his smile, “I’ll call you?” She handed him a slip of paper with some numbers scrawled on it. 

“Yeah.” Darry said. 

Y/n stood up and walked down the stairs, “Alright then.” She said, “I’ll see you later, Darrel Curtis. For our date.” 

“See you later Y/n L/n. For our date.”

[un-named-thing]

I'm feeling real creative today so here are some more eddie stuff cause we love him

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Eddie munson x vampire male!reader(but pronounce aren't exactly mentioned)

Tw: blood,slight smut(but mostly fluff)

(This will kinda be a mix of headcanons and a oneshots cause i can't choose which one to do)

Headcanons

-eddie thinks its really fucking cool that your a vampire and always ask questions about it

-"can you fly" "are there other vampires" "If you bite me will I turn into a vampire" "can eating garlic kill you" "can you turn into a bat"

-he doesn't mean it in a rude way he's just extremely curious about you

-his favourite thing to ask you however is if you can fly. He just needs to know. However if you can fly he will be over the damn moon happy.

-and god if you can turn into a bat he is squealing he loves how cute you look and goes around showing you as a bat to the gang without them knowing its you

-and even tho you won't technically burn to death in the sun if its really sunny he will shove you inside no matter how many times you tell him its okay

-he will let you feed on him and sit there with a smirk if you start freaking out and refusing

-but when you finally agree to it he will love the feeling and just shower you with praise while you do it

-he will tell you to keep going even if he's feeling slightly dizzy

-he loves the way your bite marks look on him

-he loves the way your fangs look also. He says they look really cool

-but he especially adores your slightly pointed ears and there's no explanation for that one

-the time you finally got courage to tell him you where a vampire he was slightly sceptical but then after a while he was like "shit I'm dating a real vampire"

-before you told him he always got really concerned about how cold you where or why you where so pale to where you almost looked grey

-for some reason he never questioned the ears or the fangs but he did from time to time say things like "damn your teeth are sharp, you could be a vampire"

-even after you told him he still teased you with the same "damn your teeth are sharp, you be a vampire"

-every Halloween he would tell you infront of the others that you should dress up as a vampire and then just smirk at you

-he will take you on late night walk with him and find a nice little spot where you and him can just chill together

-overal just adores you so much and loves teasing you

Oneshot

Eddie rushed you to his front door quickly fumbling for his keys. "God eddie I won't burn alive if I'm in the sun" "we don't know that!" He said opening the door and rushing you in. Sighing you sat on his couch as he followed close behind. "You okay?" "Well haven't burnt to a crisp yet so ya I guess" you said annoyed at him. He chuckled and pulled you towards him so your cuddling into him. You nuzzled your head against him and smiled, the slight annoyance disappearing. "Hey now the we're here you want to watch a movie"he questioned nuzzlingin in the crook of your neck "ummm what kind?" "Umm horror?" "Sounds good to me"

"God I love bloody movies they're so damn nice" eddie said not looking away from the movie. "Do you really like the movies or do you just like the blood?" You asked looking up at him. He made a noise like he was thinking about it "both" he simply responded. You sighed looking back at the movie.

Out of nowhere the feeling you knew too well suddenly started to burn in the back of your throat. You slightly shifted getting Eddie's attention. "You good?" "Ya ya I'm okay" you responded looking away from the movie. Eddie's was so close to you, you could smell his blood and it was making it harder for you to resist the urge. You kept shifting every couple of seconds until his smell and this feeling got to much for you and you shot up. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom" you said and walked away before he would respond. Walking into the bathroom you closed the door shaking slightly. You groaned in annoyance and looked at yourself in the mirror.

Suddenly you heard a chuckle behind the door. "Hey you hungry vamp?" Eddie said. You froze, goddammit he followed you. "No no im okay" there was silence before your heard laughing on the other side of the door. What in the. You opened the door to see eddie laughing holding his stomach. You looked at him confused as he slowly calmed down. "Oh that's a good one vamp" he looked up at you and pulled you towards him. "Come on vamp I'm not that stupid, you know you can just ask and I would gladly let you have a drink" he said with that sly smirk on his face. You groaned as he moved his hair away from his neck. You looked at him before buring your face in his neck.

You kissed and licked his neck. Eddie let out soft whimpers moving his hands to your waist, pulling you against him even more. You paused before sinking your teeth into his neck. He gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. He moaned quietly at the feeling of you drinking from him. When you felt his grip soften you stopped and licking the newly formed wound. you looked up at him and smiled as he softly panted. "Hey why'd you stop" eddie whined. You kissed him while laughing slightly. "I've had enough, plus i know you've also had enough aswell" you smiled at him again and whispered a small 'thank you' in his ear before softy kissing him. He chuckled and cuddles into your neck. "Well now it's my turn" he smirk as he started to kiss and bite at your neck.

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Mmm Men

[its-deputy-caleb]

Ok uhhh, how about Sean as a ghost? Haunting the gang post-Rhodes, but in a chill way

OOFT anon this was a hard one. I had no idea if i got what you wanted right and this is a whole mess. I kinda got weirdly angsty but tried to keep the "sean is a chill ghost vibe" so here goes nothing.

also a huge thank u to the 700 followers <333 even tho most of u are not from the rdr fandom oop.

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Fuck did things go bad in Rhodes and while you weren’t necessarily there yourself, you wished you had been. Maybe then you could have saved him.

You’re sitting out by the dock at Shady Belle, hoping the bottle of whiskey in your hand will drown out the negative thoughts again. Throwing little pebbles and sticks into the water is a nice distraction for a while but that voice in your head always comes back. The voice that tells you to relive the moments when Arthur rode into camp with his hat held in his hands as he told you the news about your beloved Sean.

Everyone knew how close you two were, how much you cared for each other. You were just a bunch of outlaws causing mischief all in the name of love. Of course, both you and Sean understood the risks that came with this sort of life, knew what could happen as an outlaw but you never imagined you’d see it so soon.

You never thought that some random sunny morning would be the last time you ever saw him. No, you always thought it’d be a train robbery or some other reckless job. You remember the day clearly, sat on guard duty watching as Sean, Bill and Micah all mounted up to head into town. He gave you a wink and a cheeky smile, yelling he’d be back for dinner with pockets full of cash and that had been it. The last time you ever saw Sean alive.

“Whatcha doing over here crying for darlin’?”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by a voice behind you, one that sounded so much like Sean. Jumping up and spinning around, the whiskey bottle in your hand smashes to the floor at the sight before you.

There standing in front of you is Sean. Well not quite, it’s still Sean only he’s covered in a greyish cloud of what you could only guess to be smoke. He seemed to hover slightly above ground and had an almost translucent appearance, it was all quite odd if you weren’t in such shock.

“SEAN?! What the actual fuck! You’re dead, I saw them bury you for chrissakes!”

“You thought I’d only take a couple of boozed up rednecks to get rid of me? Get’outta here love, gonna take a helluva lot more than that!”

Sean’s arms are open like he wants a hug and you’re mind is still trying to process what exactly its seeing that you just simply let it happen.

It seems Sean is still getting used to his apparent new appearance too as he falls straight through you. When you turn around, just as shocked Sean’s mouth is open in surprise. It seems he wasn’t expecting to nearly fall flat on his face.

-

Sean sat with you for the next few ours, telling you that he had no real idea of waking up a ghost or exactly how he got there. In fact, there was so few details that apart of you was sure he was only a figment of your imagination. But God it felt nice just to hear him again, to see him in front of you— even if you’d get called crazy for it. You wanted so badly just to lean your head on his shoulder like you had done many nights before but clearly his current state did not allow that.

Eventually Sean wanted to pester away at the rest of the gang, so in a spring of energy he bolted for the main campfire where many on the gang were sitting.

It seemed everyone was just as shocked as you to see Sean waving his hands about like an excited child— like nothing had happened.

“Looks like ya can’t get rid of old Dead Eye Macguire that easy eh? Oh lighten up a little guys, ya look like ya’ve seen a ghost! Wheres the whiskey fellas.”

Trust Sean to make a grand entrance, floating high above the fire so he could address everyone huddled around it. The flame turned the greyish smoke a bright amber and it matched the colour of what his hair used to be, for a moment he looked almost normal.

Everyone was completely shocked just as you had been. Javier had stopped playing the guitar while Dutch’s cigar burnt out slowly, completely forgotten in his hand. The silence was only broken when Pearson dropped the boiling stew all over the mudded ground.

“Williamson why so sour all the time? Lighten up will ya! Now that the life of the parties back. And Arthur! Wheres me hug aye?”

Sean spent the rest of the night going around to each member to see what they’d been up to, mostly it was just to annoy them but on this particular night I don’t think any of them minded.

At some point, your dear friend Charles came up to stand beside you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Charles… I’m not hallucinating am I? Thats really him?”

The shock of what had happened was slowly easing away and now all that was left was how tired and emotionally drained you were. First you were grieving and now you’re not? You didn’t know what to think.

“I’m afraid so, the annoying little fella is back… but everyone is happy to see him back.”

Charles always had a way of cheering you up. Knowing exactly the right time to throw in light hearted jokes and comforting reassurances, he was the one you could go to when dealing with Sean’s death was a little too much to bear sometimes.

A smile comes to your face as you watch Sean laughing with the other members, trying to drink a bottle of whiskey but failing as it went straight through him. Memories from when Sean returned from blackwater came flooding back and all the other times you’d spent with him and the gang. You couldn’t help but feel at home once more.

-

At some point you call it a night, wanting to get a least three hours of sleep before the sun would eventually come up. You’re lying under your blanket, trying to sleep when Sean comes flying through the wall of the tent to hover over you. It’s clear he can’t hug you like he used to but he sits beside you the whole night and for the first time in a while, you’re not afraid to go to sleep.

He’s humming some old Irish folk song gently under his breath and you’re slowly relaxing, letting sleep take you.

The last thing that you hear before you drift off to sleep is the soft whisper of his voice.

“Ain’t gotta worry about me leavin’ any time soon…”

[abbynx]

La Squadra Esecuzione as Best Friends Headcanons

Formaggio - Very chill, first and foremost, he is down for anything to do. Videogames? He'll try to beat your ass. Cat cafes? Heck ye he is down - The type of friend who will coax you to cut class to hang out behind the school or climb over the school fence to hang around the local arcade or theatre. But if he get caught, he won't snitch and he's willing to take responsibility. Begrudgingly. - Ohhhh physical touch is bare minimum for him. He'll occasionally lean on you, perhaps shrink himself to fit himself in your pocket just to platonically cuddle and perhaps, use you as a transport. - Will high five you as a greeting, and will high five you as a farewell. Usually followed by a hug too uwu "Bro!" He holds his hand out for a high five, in which you instinctively grant him one, when he also entwines his fingers through yours and pulling you for a hug, patting your back for a second and pulling away. "I missed you bro!" - Prepare for dumb jokes, dumb puns that he effortlessly come up with as time goes by. You can't go on a day without him cracking a joke. You'd either roll your eyes at it or laugh along with him. There's nothing in between "You see that guy over there, bro?" He leans on you, arm draped around your shoulder as he points at a person from afar. "Yeah, what?" "I say... You'd be a perfect match." You glanced at him, hearing him shake a box of matches as he wiggled his eyebrows with a dumb grin. - *Finger guns and bro intensifies* Illuso - That weird person you don't see yourself associating yourself with somehow befriended him for some reason. Most likely started when you both started to wake up at 3 AM and meet in the middle of the dark, in the kitchen, wanting to grab something to eat. At first it is awkward, but soon you learned to bond through it! And soon enough, your midnight chats extended to become actual friendships! - Seems distant, but he cares. He's the type pretend not to care about you, but will glare (or more than glare depending at the severity) at people who hurt you. He is the 'I'm the only one allowed to insult them like that' type of friend. "Huh, Formaggio hasn't been teasing me. I wonder what happened." You wondered aloud, as you say beside your friend Illuso. "Must be because of his bruised jaw. The previous mission must've been tough for him." "Yeah... That..." - Probs touched-starved. He acts irritated and push you away when you try to hug him, but secretly loves it. If you stop trying to hug him, he'd be kinda sad but will not say anything. - This friendship includes you listening to him rant about every little thing, and brag about things he can't do. He appreciates you listening to be honest, and that's initially how your friendships started anyways. - Will use derogatory terms as a term of endearment. Please don't be offended, he doesn't mean any offense "Hey idiot! Get your sorry ass right here! Risotto said we have someone to take care of!" "Thanks, dumbass." "Eyo slut! Take a look at this fugly idiot!" - Does not have the habit of knocking. In fact, he just barges into your room, through the mirror. In more than one occasion has he seen you undressed but he couldn't care less about it. "Hey dumbass can I borrow your— hey, stop screaming! Anyways I ran out of hair ties, do me a solid—" - Everyone around you being confused to how you two are most unlikely to become friends, but you two are practically unlikely twins Prosciutto - You can not stop me from assuming he is quite the mom friend if you pry his shell hard enough. Perhaps a mom friend mixed with tsundere friend. "Hey! Drink your water or I'll break your ankles! No I don't care that we're in the middle of killing someone! I packed you some water and you didn't drink it! Well shit I didn't pack it specifically for you, I just managed to pack extra! Now go ahead and drink, I'll handle this one myself! While you're at it, coat yourself with sunscreen! If I hear you whining about being burnt, I swear to God—" - If you happen to be a mom friend too, you'd be bonding over the

mutual stress of having to look over the rest of the gang over a glass of wine as chaos around you ensues because you two decided to take a small break. "Formaggio and Ghiaccio is up at it again..." You sigh, swirling the content of your stemware as the distant bickering of the two aforementioned assassins echoed. "Just... Let's just lay low. It'll be over soon." Prosciutto sighs along as well, before downing his glass of whiskey. "Hopefully." And it didn't end, as it ensued and progressive got worse. Stands were called, knives were thrown, guns were shot. And two mom friends of La Squadra almost lost their voice from all the yelling and lecturing - Will scold you for your bad habits. Bad posture? He will walk behind you, press his knee on your back and roll your shoulders back whilst he lectures you about it. Messy time management? Will buy you crap to make you keep track of time. Sleeping so late? He will take whatever you're distracted with, demand you to turn your lights off as he lights soothing scented candles and tossing you some comfortable blankets to use. Barely taking care of yourself? Bro prepare yourself. "I don't understand how you live like this! You'd be dead if you were to continue that habit! At least help me help you to make you be better!" - Very blunt and honest to the point it stings, but he never lies to people he is closed to. He prefers being upfront with his loved ones and will try to rebuild their confidence and reassure them that they can be better than what they are. "When I say you're idiotic, you're but a burden, I mean it. You have all rights to be hurt by it, but don't just live with it. Prove me wrong, that you can be better than that and you'll be the best version of yourself. I know you can do it." - Will accept hugs, but will most likely not hug back. Maybe he'll just out one hand on your back and lightly stroke it, but that's it. But in rare occasions, he will return them too. Sometimes, he'll even initiate it. - Your connection to him as a friend has lead several advantages. No one in general can make a negative comment about you with Prosciutto around. His glare alone was scary and they would not wish to stick around and find out what he can do than just glaring. - Extremely appreciates when you help him around by simply carrying things for him, fetching him coffee and actually doing your damn job properly is enough to make him be filled with gratitude. Pesci - Baby. Okay, so this boy. Boy oh boy, he is baby. Take care of him, bro. Don't coddle him to the point of him being entirely dependent on you, but sis you can always reassure and make him improve himself! Perhaps a tamer version of his relationship with his brother. - You two will mostly likely be friends because you always defend him from the others from teasing him and rooting for him. He is very grateful for it and can't thank you enough. Either that, or Prosciutto paid you to babysit him. - Will constantly cling on your arm when he's anxious. It's up to you whether you'll snap at him and slap his hand away, or just let him hang around you. He'll just simply grab your wrist, and sooner and later he'd have his body pressed against yours, completely clinging on the entirety of your arm. "D-don't leave me, Y/N! I'm scared—!" - He is extremely thankful for you watching over him and protecting and by this, he tries to improve himself a lot more just so he can confidently say he can watch over you and protect you as well - Just the sweetest little thing, whenever he'd be away with Prosciutto for a mission he'd return home bearing gifts from travel and he'd give it to you. It would be something either miniature, or something practical like a knife sharpener or something. "I-I got this for you... I hope you like it! Big bro helped me pick!" - Honestly, I can imagine him just being the best, supportive and encouraging friend there could be. If ever you needed someone to confide in, he'd just sit and listen and will certainly not repeat what you told him to others. He'll try his best to comfort

you, taking inspiration to how you comfort him and will just try his best to make you feel better. "I know life is rough and hard and bad, but you always told me it will change and soon it all be over and better. It's good that you recognise you're in a bad place, now you need to take a break and then later you won't even know you've already forgotten your problem! It's okay to be sad, too, but not for too long." - The type of friend that will share anything he has. He has a cookie with him? Shit, he'll split it in half and give the other half to you. Some soda? Well I hope you don't mind drinking from the same can as he is, he will give it to you. Melone - So this nerd isn't a complete creepy pervert, not entirely at all. He's chill for most of the time, so he's a neat company if you don't mind him bombarding you with questions regarding your genetics, heritage records, blood type, zodiac signs and whatnot. But knows when to stop. - You most likely befriended him because he is one of the chill people in the group... Somewhat. Or perhaps you just started to bond over mutual love for steamy, erotic novels from the same author. If this man has shame, his guilty pleasures would be reading these types of trashy novels filled with smut. - He is great as a wingman. Complain to him about your lack of a love life, he'll observe your types and he'll somehow come up with a list by the next day enthusiastically listing them to you in a PowerPoint presentation. "If you're into girls, I have this one right here! She's compatible with your zodiac sign, although she has quite the temper she can be extremely passionate and affectionate— or perhaps you're into men, that I have as well. Several, actually. This other fellow right here is also a part of Passione from the Human trafficking branch, stoic and quite a stern one, but knows when to lay low at times and appreciate those around him— either him or the girl, you'd make good babies together!" "Melone, what the fuck—" - Very touchy. He'd lean his head on your lap as you both read on the couch, or randomly put his head on your shoulder during meetings, grab you by the arm while crossing the road, smacking your ass as a greeting (if you tell him stop, he'd stop of course), will pretend to kiss you just so he can see your reaction, anything. He is one affectionate nut that he sometimes forget about personal spaces. If you're not particularly fond of being touched like I am, simply tell him nope. I mean, he'd be sad but will respect your boundaries. The only time he'll actually respect established boundaries, to be honest. - Knows the most random facts and will share them to you for the fun of it. Additional to that, he will also mutter his shower thoughts and random cursed facts out loud just so he can curse you with the knowledge and confusion. "Did you know that dolphins masturbate using dead fishes? Also, there was an experiment involving dolphins in which one of the scientist fell in love and had sex with it. Another fact, is that dolphins are also seen doing the deed—" "Okay, Melone, I get it! Dolphins aren't as innocent as they seem! Stop ruining it for me already!" ... "Did you know that a woman once used mayonnaise as a lubri—" "MELONE!" - Being his friends meaning being his impulse control. If he intends to use his Stand on some innocent passerby just for the heck of it (for science, as he claims), smack him by the wrist and glare at him. If he eyes a particular someone for too long that the person gets too uncomfortable, try to divert his attention away. "Ow! Y/N what the heck—!" "What did I told you about oogling at people? It's impolite and creepy, stop that!" - He may not seem like it, but bro he cares a lot. If ever you had a problem, he'd sit and listen, offer you his shoulder to cry on, and perhaps hang out to divert your attention away from what's bothering and hurting you. And if you need advice, he'll try his best to come up with a flawless solution to your problems. But if comfort is what you need, his arms are open baby. Ghiaccio

- Bro you must need emergency ear plugs for this one, he is a massive screamer, a ticking time bomb with no timer that will erupt at random. If ear plugs aren't enough, cover your ears. - Befriending him was an impulse control befriending him. Well, all you did was to constantly try to calm his tits and cool his head to the point he actually barges in your room to hang out so that he can cool his head from all of the shenanigans occuring all around him, or maybe he just had another thought about something maddening about the world. "WELL WHY?! WHY IS WOMEN'S CLOTHES SIZING CHART DIFFER FROM EACH STORE?! THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE! INCHES AND CENTIMETRES EXISTS FOR A REASON, DAMNIT!" - There are moments where he isn't screaming, thankfully and he's a decent person to talk to. If you're a listener, he'll do the talking, just ranting about things, rambling on and on, before complaining, and then another outbursts comes out. By this, you simply sigh, put a hand on his shoulder and talk to him in a gentle, calming voice. It usually does the trick. Formaggio and Melone joked about this talent of yours as witchcraft. - He appreciates you a lot and honestly doesn't know what to do without you and by that, he knows he has to reciprocate the care you give him somehow to show he is grateful of your friendship and care. He isn't the type to be physically affectionate, but he is extremely thoughtful about his closed loved onesa and prefers to be practical about it. He would save you your seat in meetings, fetch you snacks if he ran out for an errand, etc etc. Extremely observant of your mannerisms, that he might point that out to you and you won't even realise you do that. - So like, he is very protective as a friend. He will do something whenever someone has wronged you in any way. The others teasing you? Bam, he'll shoot them back with a witty insult. Your s/o cheated on you? Ohohoho boi, be prepared to see their name on a headline on the daily news. Your order was wrong? Bam, he'll have the waiter shaking in fear from a screaming, angry Italian mafioso as he demands for them to remake your order correctly. "WELL CAGACAZZO?! QUIT STANDING AROUND AND GET ORDERS CORRECTLY—" "G-Ghiaccio it's just a minor thing, let it go—" "THEY SERVED YOU AN INGREDIENT YOU SPECIFICALLY TOLD THEM NOT TO INCLUDE BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO IT! WHY ARE YOU LETTING THIS SLIDE OFF?!" - All in all, he's just glad you're there for him because damn, someday his temper is going to get the best of him and he doesn't know what to do. And with your friendship, he's learned how to cope with his spontaneous anger by carrying soothing stuff to ease his nerves (courtesy of your suggestions and gifts for him) - Basically the dynamic of a rapid gremlin with rabies and a calm, sunshine personified angel. Everyone (Riz, including, but he's more subtle and dry about it) joked about the unlikely friendship, and how your ears must've lost a little bit of hearing capacity. Rissoto - I feel like he'd be extremely attached to a childhood friend. You've been friends since before you underwent the drastic change by going through a lot to get to where he is now, and still the only person that stuck around with him was you. By that, you became the most trusted by him due to the fact you've known each other for very long. - As his best friend, you're his confidant and finds himself often going to you if ever he needed advice, or needed to vent about his stress. He really isn't vocal but when he's confiding in you, his words spill out of his mouth usually sealed tightly just steadily flows, his big strong Capo veneer falls apart in front of you but he doesn't necessarily feel unsafe by being vulnerable. That's how he trusts you. - No one will dare to bad mouth you in front of the Capo, or else there'd be hell to pay for. I mean, teasing is fine, he knows you can handle burns from team mates here and there (and will silently smirk at it) but he will not stand it if they attempt to belittle you for something unreasonable. "Watch your mouth. That was

out of their control, stop blaming them for something they can't do." - The type of friend that doesn't know how to comfort someone, but will try their best. So as you spill your heart out, tears, snot, sweat and all, he'll just pull you to his chest and awkwardly pat your shoulders to get you calm and comforted. Not to mention, he is extremely stiff at the hug and is very unsure what words to say to you to not upset or offend you any further, so he'll just ride it out smoothly, and let you let it all out on his chest. It's not like he can't wash your tears, snot and sweat on his chest anyways. - Since he is very non-vocal, he's a good listener so rant all the way! Complain about the weather, about your lack of love life, about how underpaid the hitmen team is, anything! He won't find the perfect response, so he'll just nod along and perhaps comment occasionally on what your saying. "So like, ugh, I am soooo frustrated at how Prosciutto could say that to Pesci! He makes a good point, but it's redundant for him to be too harsh on him! Look, all I'm saying is, maybe Prosciutto should start choosing his words correctly so that Pesci won't feel too upset! You know???" You glanced at your friend, as he simply sat attentively beside you. He nods silently as a response. "Anyways—" - Extremely great at deduction and the way he reads people so easily is so unreal. And so he uses this to his advantage to know what's up with you whenever you seemed off. By this, he's able to tell whenever you're upset but scared to talk about it, frustrated but too busy to talk about, etc etc. And with this, he takes the time to drag you to take a seat, and talk about what's been bothering you. If you don't wish to talk about it at all, he'll let you be after with a reassurance that you can overcome whatever the heck you're going through. - Everyone is surprised that you two aren't married??? That you're just friends??? The way you two look just makes you two look like a couple and it boggles the others how you two aren't one.

[trumpkinhotboy]

All in good time

Pairing: Jacob Black x f!reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: Kinda fluffy i'd say

Warnings: None!

Rating: g

Requests: Open (for Narnia and Twilight, maybe?😳)

A/n: Alright, alright, I know I said this blog was going to be centralized on Narnia stuff, but lately I've really gotten back in my Twilight phase🥴 Plus, I had a really shitty week and needed a pick me up. Jacob is one of my biggest comfort characters so I felt it was only suiting. I hope you'll enjoy it😬 I suggest reading this while listening to any kind of Twilight ambiance playlist.☺Also, I know my title sucks HAHA. Couldn't think of anything better so yea, I'm sorry, but this is what you get

Update: changed my title huhu!

* gif is not mine!!

There were days that just deeply and inherently... sucked. Days where everything seemed out of rhythm, where no matter how hard you tried, it all seemed wrong; it all fell apart.

Today was one of those days. When your dad jokingly said: "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." you did not think it the tiniest of bit funny. When you opened one of the kitchen cabinets to get your favorite brand of cereals and found an empty box, you almost threw a full-on seven-year-old crying on the floor tantrum. Especially when you saw the half-emptied bowl sitting in the sink. Too bad, no breakfast for you this morning. Ridiculous, immature, and not changing anything? Yes, of course, but you still did it out of pure spite. As if that would punish anyone else than you.

Like any other day in Forks, it was raining, nothing awful here, if it was not for the fact that the window on the driver’s side hadn’t been properly closed. Your seat was by now totally drenched. With your pants completely soaked you rode to school, your knuckles turning white from angrily gripping the wheel. Once you arrived, it seemed that everyone was annoyingly happy and enthusiastic while you just couldn’t get out of your personal, unchangeable, black cloud. Not to help, your friends only kept making fun of your moody behavior. Could you not be taken seriously on one of your worst days?

In your least favorite class, you were horrified to see written in big letters on the board:

“20% exam!! Leave your personal effects in front of the class.”

You would have run away if it wasn’t for the flow of students coming in to push you further in the classroom. Convinced the exam was for the next week, you did not even open the pages of your manual concerning the subject. It is with panic and exasperation that you sat at your desk waiting for your doom. Did you need to add that along with all that bull crap of a day, the only person who could have made your day a little less annoying was, once again missing. No calls, no texts, no news, nothing. Probably on another mission with the rest of his mutant gang. You got to the Rez after school, hoping you would see him, but were only welcomed by Leah and Seth. It almost felt like they were waiting for you as they were sitting outside of Billy’s house. Why they were the only ones left here was a mystery for you. The pack usually always stayed together.

- “Where are the others?”

- “On some kind of mission around the lands.”

- “Is everything alright?” They nodded nonchalantly. “Then why are you two here?”

The answer Seth gave you while chewing loudly on yet, another snack, made you grith your teeth so hard he thought they were going to fall out of your mouth.

- “To protect you.”

- “I thought it was nothing, so why would I need protection?”.

- “You should talk about it with Black. He’s the one who ordered us to stay to watch over you or something.”

- “I am PERFECTLY capable of WATCHING OVER MYSELF.” you answered a little louder than expected, anger rumbling in your chest. That earned you some awkward looks from your two friends, but at this point, it didn’t even matter, you were seeing red.

Leah, never intimated by you, shrugged her shoulders. Seth looking a little bit more nervous still laughed at your display of anger. Jacob was the one assigning babysitters over you? Of course, you and he would have a little discussion, that mutt would not see it coming.

When you got back home, you called your father to warn him; there was no way you would be cooking dinner. With your luck, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you burnt the whole house down. Fortunately, he was in good mood (unfair) and answered there was no problem; he would get pizza. He got home with the box in hand and a “Hey sweet...heart”. One quick look at your rough appearance and frustrated expression and his mouth closed shut. He dropped politely, almost carefully, a plate with a slice of pizza before quickly leaving for the couch. You mostly played with the food, incapable of swallowing it down, looking at the forest many times, waiting, expecting to see a tall figure appear on its verge but nothing. Time passed, still no sign of life. There was no way that by now Leah or Seth didn’t give him your message. You had time to wash the dishes, do some homework, and get in your sweats. At 7:30 pm you gave up; he wasn’t coming. Your father was still watching TV, completely oblivious to your growing anger. You picked up his plate to put it in the sink but tripped and dropped it, the delicate plate exploded into a thousand pieces.

- “Y/n? Everything okay?”

- “Y..ea.. an accident. I’ll pick it up.”

There was a slight tremolo in your voice. That was it. Your day had been terrible with no sign of sun, and this broken plate would be your breaking point as ridiculous as it sounded. You leaned on the counter, head hanging low, feeling tears of frustration swelling up in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you looked up; in a second you were out the back door.

- “Where you going?” you heard your father ask.

- “Getting the trash out.”

The figure backed in the woods as you rushed into them without hesitation. You smacked against something big and warm, warmer than it was normal to be, yet you had become quite accustomed to it.

- “You little piece of shit.” your index finger digging in his chest. “You weren’t even here today, and it was terrible, and you can’t do this. I do not need any PROTECTION. Oh my god, do you really think I am weak and helpless without you or Leah or Seth or ANY werewolf to protect me?!”

He didn’t interrupt your monologue, only looking at you spitting your anger out.

- “You are SO annoying. Honestly who- who do you think you- are?! I’m- I am not, I can DEFINITELY, I don’t ne-eed any-one.” Your speech was becoming less and less coherent, your emotions taking control of your mind.

Without waiting any longer for you to finish your incoherent thought, he pulled you in for one of his signature bear hugs.

- “You can’t do this to me I’m an-ang-angry...”.

- “Shhh, it’s okay.”

- “You-you weren’t there.” you gave up fighting him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

- “I’m sorry, Leah told me.”

- “Wh- why didn’t you come sooner?” you continued, sobbing.

- “Some wolf things, Paul got in trouble.“ you backed off, immediately lifting your head at the mention of one of your friends in trouble.

- “Is he okay?”

- “Of course, he is, but Sam was very upset this time.” he stroked the side of your face with a small smile. “Enough with the boys, tell me what's wrong.”

- “Everything. I left my car window opened my seat was drenched. At school, everyone was disgustingly happy and in a good mood. I did not know I had an exam, I didn’t even study the subject. And this morning, my dad half ate the rest of my favorites cereals, and then I didn’t eat anything else as a silent protest, I know that’s stupid, but”

- “You didn’t eat anything else?”

- “Yeah, but I…” you lifted your gaze to meet his disapproving one. “I mean, I must have eaten a snack at lunch today…”

- “Must have?” he looked angrier.

- “Y/n??? Where are you??”

The calling of your father interrupted your conversation; he looked in its direction.

- “You should go back inside before your dad comes out.”

- “What? No, please. Can’t you kidnap me for tonight?” he chuckled lightly.

- “Trust me, go back in, okay?”

You looked at him unsure, even though you knew he was worthy of your trust. You finally nodded before running back inside.

- “What took you so long?”

- “Oh, uh, I thought I saw something and got a little carried away.”

- “Mokay, I don’t like you being so close to the woods. We’ve still had a few complaints about some trekkers finding traces of big animals in the woods. I’d prefer you be careful, alright?” You held up a smile, thinking about your friend just outside.

- “Sure.”

You stayed in the middle of the living room, expecting, waiting to see Jacob’s next move. You expected something quick, but when ten minutes later, there were still no signs of him, you felt frustration rising again. Not sure what to do now, you sat next to your father, half paying attention to what was happening on the screen. If he just left you, he was going to pay for it. You needed him, and just like that, he was gone? Probably, got called away by Sam again. Maybe it wasn’t in his control? But if it was…

Knock. Knock.

You looked up, surprised. The door opened with a creaking sound.

- “Oh, Jacob. Hi, what are you doing here?”

- “Hi Charlie, I heard Y/n had a pretty bad day. Came to kidnap her, if that's okay?”

- “Bad day? That’s an understatement. I swear, at one point, I thought she was going to scream at me. I ate her last bowl of cereal this morning; the thing was disgusting, I only ate half of it. I don’t think that helped.” You heard your friend’s low chuckle. Your dad seemed to feel pretty guilty about his crime, which did make you feel a tad bit better. “But yeah sure. Y/n! You have a visitor.”

You walked to them, Jacob awkwardly fitting in your small house; he seemed so disproportionate with his imposing size. For once, he was wearing actual clothes, a shirt and a pair of jeans, a sign he wasn’t planning on having to transform tonight. A sign that he was planning on being entirely dedicated to you.

- “Ready to go? I’m kidnaping you.” He said that last part with a smirk, a hint to your previous request.

- “Sure.” You grabbed your coat, said goodbye to your dad, and left without waiting any longer.

First, he took you away to get some food in you. It wasn’t until your teeth were digging inside a delicious burger that you realized just how hungry you were. Jacob being the glutton that he is, ordered two cheeseburgers along with a pack of large fries. You went for a milkshake, the perfect dessert for a night like this, and took your victuals to the La Push beach. It was empty and peaceful; the sun was slowly going down, the wind just a whisper in the night. It wasn’t even that cold, but the excuse to snuggle into Jake’s wolfish warmth was too good to pass.

- “Feeling better?” he asked while wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

- “Yes. Thanks, Jake.”

- “Kidnapping mission was a success?”

- “Yes, it was.” You answered with a smile.

- “Alright.” He muttered under his breath, looking in the distance.

You stayed for a while in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the other’s presence.

- “So, what were you saying about me not being there today, like that made your day worst?”

His question took you by surprise. A look at his cocky expression was all it took you to punch him in the ribs as hard as you could.

- “You wish idiot.”

He laughed at your attack, he probably didn't even feel a thing but leveled his face with yours in all seriousness.

- “You can avoid this conversation for now since you had a shit day and all, but keep in mind, it’s not over.”

- “And you keep in mind that our discussion about you ordering werewolves to stay behind to protect me, is not over. You won’t get away easily with that one Black.”

He laughed again, visibly amused with your threat. You laughed too but were slightly less amused. These two conversations were important ones, although one you apprehended way more. You looked at Jacob's happy expression and felt a fuzzy feeling warming your body. No, right now was not the time for such serious topics.

All in good time, right?

...

Tagging my two gals because they know how nervous I was😭...@imjustdreamingig @gonzalezyon I did it gals🥺 I hope you'll like it, thank you so much for your support💕💕

[dreadwulf]

2: The Black Mountains

Post-Apocalyptic Modern AU. Chapter 1 is here.

The last thing his right eye ever saw was Brienne. 

In that eye she is shouting. Of course he couldn’t hear her at the time over the jeers of the Bloody Mummers tying him to the table. Their laughter had been right up against his ears and the sound of it drowned out everything else in that abandoned mall. The image is soundless: her mouth is just open, her throat pushing out a word that looks like No. Her blue eyes are also open wide, both frightened and angry, a righteous fury that came to him as a surprise, at the time.

She is a still image that resides in the abandoned nerves to that empty eye socket. If he cares to, he can still see her there, superimposed over everything.

She hovers over The Spider’s right shoulder just now. Still saying No.  

He tries to focus on the Spider’s face instead. Varys raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow on his immaculate bald head.

“You can’t shoot anymore. Not like before, not with one eye. You know this.”

“I don’t mean to shoot.” Jaime shows his palms. “I have two hands still. I need a weapon I won’t have to aim.”

Varys measures this statement. He is a man who deals in knowledge more than goods, but he has an armed guard, and a collection of interesting weapons. Both for his own protection, and for use in acquiring the most valuable intel.

“In that case,” the Spider presses a button on the trailer wall. To one of the bikers, a large man with a burnt face who looks in the door in response to his call, he instructs, “bring me the Widow’s Wail.”

The same scarred man reappears with a comically oversized weapon in his hands. Turns out Widow’s Wail is an axe. It is a huge, two-handed, double-bladed axe and when the burnt biker hands it to Jaime his hands dip with the weight.

Axes, Brienne used to tell him, are the best weapon for killing Others. You don’t need to reload an axe. It can’t jam, doesn’t recoil. Simple and effective. 

Messy though, he had said back. He had always preferred his rifle -- clean and fast, one shot and done, and hopefully at a distance. The Others would fall down like carnival targets, one after another, and his favorite jacket would remain spotless. But after they took his eye, he had needed a new weapon, and his jacket was long-ruined by then. 

This is messy work, she had replied.

Now, he lifts the weapon, turns it one way and another. Both edges gleam in the fluorescent light. This axe has been sharpened recently. It is spotless. This weapon has never seen battle.

“It’s new,” Varys fills in immediately, “but it was designed to kill Others. Old valyrian steel, made the old way. We haven’t yet had opportunity to test it, but it will strike true.”

Jaime doesn’t ask how Varys would be able to make a valyrian steel weapon. Knowing how is what he does. 

The Spider watches him curiously. “Are we square then, Slayer?”

“Almost.” He sits again, crosses the long weapon over his lap with both fists grasping it tightly. “Where did it happen?”

“In the North. What exactly happened is unclear even to me, but we know for certain she had traveled north with a small gang. There are reports of her at Winterfell, and then she went with Snow and a small band of Starks beyond the Black Mountains. They returned without her.”

Jaime nods shortly. “Winterfell, then the wilds.”

The Spider frowns. He is perhaps a little perplexed by this conversation, or by Jaime himself. He likes to think he knows people, knows how they will react. But recent years have made a different man of Jaime Lannister. The fall of King’s Landing, his father’s death, the business with Cersei -- after all that, the arrogant and impetuous adventurer of his younger days is long gone. He is a ghost of himself, and the Spider doesn’t know what this ghost will do. He doesn’t like that.

He sits up a little bit straighter on his couch.  “Then it isn’t our local outbreak you intend to fight? I expected you would be nearby. Kill some Others, burn off some steam, and incidentally clear out some of the infestation in the Riverlands, which would be convenient for me. But you aren’t doing that, are you? You mean to follow her? To what purpose?”

Jaime’s eye flickers briefly right. “Hunting.”

“It will be pointless to mount a rescue mission, I assure you.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Their eyes meet for a moment. Jaime isn’t about to elaborate on his intentions, and Varys is visibly frustrated. His silky tones shorten, revealing something sharp beneath. 

“I ought to stop you. You have brought order to the Westerlands, and you’re starting to bring it here too. Alliances, patrols for the roads. Your brother, clever as he is, did not do that. If you abandon these lands, it may all fall apart.”

Jaime feels a flicker of guilt for that, but it is quickly doused by everything else happening inside him. No, this is important. Maybe the most important thing he has ever done.

He shrugs stiffly. “If it falls apart without me, it was too fragile to last.” 

“You’ll need more than an axe and your motorbike to make that journey. You have favors to trade, certainly,” Varys cuts him off before he can argue, “but not that many. The scouting party went beyond the Black Mountains, across them, into the far North. There are few enough waystations on the way to Winterfell, and everything North of Winterfell belongs to the Others. There will be no shelters for you along the way, no refuges, no refueling.”

Jaime is unconcerned. “If she made it there, then I can too.”

“The Blue Angel had a party of supporters, specialists. She would have been outfitted with the best supplies and equipment. She was welcomed everywhere she went, and at the peak of her powers. No offense, Slayer, but you are past your prime, and your powers lately end at the borders of Lannister territory.”

He smiles thinly as he stands. “I didn’t know you cared, Spider. Thanks for the weapon. We’re square.”

Jaime takes the axe outside, and stands staring up at the moon, while the bikers retrieve his motorbike.

Anytime he looks at the moon, anytime there is a moon, he thinks of her. Remembers how they had looked on it together, during those long nights on the road, even though they had parted years ago now. Her on to glory, him back to the arms of his family. They delivered the girls to Winterfell, and he left her to the Kingsroad. It was her territory after that, what once had been his. She had earned it in sweat and tears and blood. She tended it well without him. He had gloried in tales of her exploits.

Whenever he looks at the moon, he has always wondered if she is looking too. Wherever she is.

He thinks he will not be able to look at the moon anymore.

When he turns his head, Varys stands on the steps of his trailer, his bald head gleaming against the fluorescent light. Jaime has never seen him outside his trailer. It’s confusing, a little like seeing a penguin in the jungle.

“The Others of the Black Mountains are different,” The Spider warns him. “Worse.” 

When his bike comes rolling back with two of the Spider’s bikers, it comes with a few more gifts. Two metal spheres, one the size of a softball and the other the size of a chestnut.

Grenades, obviously Old World. Gods know where Varys got them from, certainly they aren’t made this way anymore. What they’re calling grenades now will mostly just make noise. But these two could probably blow a hole in a tank. He packs them onto his bike carefully.

Any old-world weapon would be priceless now, Jaime knows. Varys would not overpay a debt.

He squints up at the Spider, who makes a silky shadow in the doorway against his light. “And the cost?”  

The Spider smiles -- he can’t see it, on a shadow, but he can hear it in his voice. “If you come back, tell me what you saw. I hear very little of the Black Mountains and none of it first-hand.”

Jaime can promise that easily enough. He knows he won’t be coming back.

He walks his bike in silence about a mile up the road before waking the engines and roaring away.

He rides the motorbike until the last of his carefully hoarded gasoline is run out, rides right through the next day and into the night. Gets more miles out of it than he would have gotten with his creaky armored car, and certainly faster. 

Along the way he sees no other travelers. Five years ago there would have been at least a few others, some other vehicles, perhaps spaced out and alone, perhaps all in a big caravan for safety. But there is not much fuel left anymore. And North is not a direction people go in now.

It was how he had met her, actually. On a road much like this one.  He had been on a different motorbike and she had been driving a sedan. Obviously following him, less obvious why. He made it a chase - weaving between the stopped traffic, blasting around the walkers and cyclists and parades of cars going nowhere. She had somehow kept up with him, pushing her poor little car to its limits. Eventually he decided whoever it was had earned his attention for at least a few minutes, and he pulled over on the road to watch the tallest, ugliest woman he had ever seen unfold herself out of her car. 

She kept his attention considerably longer than a few minutes. .

Of course, he could enjoy a chase back then - you could still count on petrol, could siphon it out of most any vehicle you encountered along the way. The cars along the road here are bone dry by now, haven’t moved in years, and the electronics, trunk supplies, and even promising upholstery have been stripped out of them long ago. The cars pass by now in muted streaks of blue and red, dulled by layers of paint-stripping weather damage and snow. 

When his bike sputters to a stop, he leaves it right out on the highway. Packs his equipment onto his back. Then he begins to walk.

Without the headlights of his bike, it’s quite dark. No streetlights, of course. He has a torch in his bag, but he’s saving that battery as long as he can. Anyway, the moon is out, and once his eyes are adjusted he sees well enough. The trees encroaching on the interstate have not quite overtaken the shoulder, and the glow of moon and stars light up the cracked concrete in front of him, and glitter in the frost.

His boots echo his footfalls up and down the highway. First the gritty sound of gravel, and then the crunch of ice, and then the quieter scrunch of snow. 

There are no other sounds to hear out here -- no bird cries, no insects. They aren’t sure if the animals are dead, hiding, or run away, but no one sees them anymore. Means he doesn’t have to worry about being eaten by bears, at least.

The last bear he has seen was that time with Brienne, actually. It might have been the last bear, period. He hasn’t heard of any other ones since. That would be a shame, if that had been the last bear, and they’d killed it. He hadn’t wanted to. He can’t take it personally, the bear trying to eat them. He was only hungry, and they were all very hungry that winter. 

He didn’t know he would be fleeing the last bear in Westeros with her, when he met Brienne on the road. He only knew she was capable, and she was following him, and anyone out in the wilds could be dangerous. Out here other people were either foolishly overconfident, robbers, or competition. 

Brienne proved to be the last type, possibly also the first. She was after the Stark bounty, same as him. She had a personal stake. He could keep the money, she said. He had a lot more experience and knew where he was going, but she could be an ally. She could help.

He had laughed in her face, more or less. Said she was free to make the bounty herself, but he traveled alone. Newbies tended to die almost immediately, and he hadn’t stayed alive this long by babysitting foolish college students. He would locate the missing Stark girls and deliver them home. But if she wanted to return them herself she’d have to beat him there. 

A few weeks later they had wound up with one Stark girl apiece -- him with Sansa and her best girlfriend Jayne, her with Arya and her mate Gendry -- and again she had proposed an alliance for the trip up to Winterfell. No one had made it to Winterfell since the disaster, but their chances were better together, she said.

His better idea was that he could take the two valuable girls to Winterfell and she could take the two spares and go back to King’s Landing where it was safe, or jump in a lake for all he cared. But that conversation had been interrupted by the Bloody Mummers, and after that… things were very different after that.

Jaime slows to a stop with this remembrance, digs in his bag for his water bottle and takes a long pull. He’s tiring faster than he expected. He has tried to keep himself in fighting shape the last few years, but he hasn’t made a journey like this in a long time.

You’ve grown soft, he thinks, but inside his head it sounds like Brienne’s gentle ribbing. The tone she had taken after she stopped insulting him for real.

I’m refined, he answers back, slinging his pack over his shoulder and walking again. Answers between breaths, like he’s actually speaking. I’m a diplomat these days, remember? 

Will you try to negotiate with the Others then? She laughs in his ear. What will you trade them, wine? Broken electronics? The only economy they know is violence, and we trade them blows. 

He smiles to himself, despite everything. Young lady, it’s a good thing you didn’t come back to King’s Landing with me. You would have knocked out the Small Council within a day, and we’d both have been out on our asses.

And King’s Landing would have better off with us in the street than you in that office. We might have saved it. Old man, whatever have you done without me?

Jaime stops a moment, breathing hard, looking up at the moon.

I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ve been doing, where the time went. It all blurred together without you.

He has been having these conversations for years now. It isn’t exactly imagination. More prediction. He knows exactly what she would say in every instance. What she would think of the people he meets, the places he goes. He hears her critiques of his private practice sessions, when he tries to stay in shape for the inevitable invasion. Her quiet, private commentary. Her icy rejoinders to his jokes. They come to him like a reply. Like she has heard him gods-know-how-many miles away, and answered him back. 

It’s painful now, hearing her voice. He doesn’t know why it would be different - alive or dead, he is only talking to himself after all. Perhaps it is only more obviously futile this way, knowing she is gone. 

He was never going to see her again, he knows that. The things she does, they were always eventually going to get her killed. Hells, he told her that himself more than once. 

Even now it still isn’t entirely real to him. It doesn’t seem possible. But the Spider knows things, and if he knows them they aren’t just rumors. It’s true. It’s sinking in. Brienne is gone. 

She doesn’t walk the same world as him anymore. He will hear no more tales of her adventures, and smile privately at the things nobody else knows of her. He will not wonder if it snows where she is, or if the sun shines. Whether she ever thinks of him, the way he does of her. They traveled together only a year, but she carved a place for herself in him, in the slow and brutal way water carves a cliffside. He has kept her there all this time. Now in that space there is emptiness, a brutal, sucking vacuum that might just pull him apart if he stops moving long enough.

So he starts walking again. Keeps walking, on and on, without rest, for as long as he can stand it.

Here and there one of the Others comes onto the road ahead of him. They wander on and off aimlessly, looking lost. At a distance they look nearly alive, so long as they aren’t missing any limbs, and only the directionless of their movements give them away. As you get closer you can see their clothing is wrong -- it’s not enough clothes for the weather, or their clothes are torn, bits are missing. Maybe the clothes are rotting right off their bodies, if they’re been out long enough. Closer still and you can see the blueish tinge to the skin that the Others are famous for, the thin layer of frost that covers them head to toe. At ten feet or so you can make out the ice blue eyes that glow like cat’s eyes in the light. But by then they’ve seen you, and they move much faster than you think they can. Best not to get that close. Best to stay well away, and let them turn and wander in another direction out of sight. 

As always, one wonders what they’re looking for. Where they’re going.

Some of them will wander away before he catches up, and he pays them no mind. If he is quiet, and they didn’t take notice of him, it is easier to let them pass by. Fighting can be loud, and that sort of noise could bring more of them running.

But eventually one is too slow. They can be damaged, and those stumbling steps can be frustratingly deliberate at times. This one is fairly tall, and drags its foot in the snow. On the highway, it reminds him of an elderly driver occupying the fast lane at a crawl. Even as he slows his pace, he gets closer and closer, and the dead thing shows no signs of changing direction.

Eventually he can wait no longer. He will have to overtake the creature. At least he hasn’t seen any other Others nearby. This Other shows no sign of noticing him. Jaime slowly draws the axe off his back, and makes six rapid, long strides in the thing’s direction, winding up for a massive crossways swing.

Varys didn’t lie; the axe cuts true. One good blow across the back is enough to bring it down, and he remembers where to strike. Sever the spinal cord, destroy the brain, or burn them, that destroys them. The axe is so sharp it cuts the thing nearly in half. There is a quick, sharp sound of impact and the thud of a body hitting the ground, and then silence. 

They don’t scream, the others. They don’t make noises of any kind. Maybe because they don’t breathe anymore; who knows. He pulls the axe out of the thing’s bulk and wipes it in the snow. 

The first Other to fall to him in five years that he didn’t hit with his car. It feels good. It doesn’t relieve the great sucking void he has inside him but it does feel good.

He shoulders the axe and keeps walking. After that, he strikes down one of them every few hours, until the sun comes up, and then he huddles on the embankment, dozing, for most of the morning. It’s not so cold he’ll freeze - not yet, anyway - and there aren’t so many Others around that he can’t risk it.

He’s lucky, for the most part. There aren’t any big clusters of Others out here. Those tend to form up around settlements and cities, or lingering around empty houses. Not out here in the open space, where there aren’t travelers anymore. 

He passes the next night in a car, after crawling in a broken window. It’s not especially safer, but it is more comfortable than the ground. He sprawls across the backseat and thinks about the red wood-paneled station wagon he had found buried in a parking lot and managed to start. He and Brienne drove that car all the way to Harrenhall, the now five children sleeping in the back. The seat was so wide even Brienne could lay down in it, and she was inches taller than him. 

This car is blue, and he has to bend his knees and curl up to fit on the seat.

Keep watch for me, Angel, he tells her, before he drifts off.

Days of steady walking pass this way, with fitful bursts of sleep. 

The Black Mountains are looming in the far distance when he nears Winterfell. So tall he can see them all these miles away, staining the low edge of the horizon like a shadow. 

Jaime keeps his eyes on the ground mostly. He’s only been here once, and it wasn’t an enjoyable visit. It was a destination, and it meant the end of a long journey. He’s never much liked those. Endings. He tries to get those over with. If he can help it, he’d rather turn around and begin again right away, try to get back to the middle.

Wintertown is relatively intact, patrolled by fur-clad soldiers with shotguns. The town has grown since he was here last. The streets have people on them now, much more than in Lannisport or anywhere in the Riverlands. No cars, but regular people, old folks and even children, strolling about. He has to stop and stare at that for awhile. Pedestrians. It’s been a long time.

Perhaps things are better in the North? Maybe they are safer than they were. But Wintertown is small, and easily guarded, and in the shadow of the old Winterfell fortress these people know they can flee within its walls and be safe, should the Others attack again. That’s more reassurance than most places have. 

For a little while he walks up and down those streets, just another window-shopper. The buildings are mostly refitted as residences, but on the sidewalks people sell goods out of carts, or spread out on the sidewalk. Wanderers come through and trade the trinkets they’ve found. There aren’t prices. Most likely they will take food, and medicine, and more practical items, in trade. He didn’t bring anything like that, unfortunately. But there isn’t anything he needs here.

At the end of a long boulevard Jaime finds himself before the gates of Winterfell, and he pauses.

This was where he had parted from her. Right here.

He grimaces past that memory. He was an ass about it, of course. Tried to sneak away. She caught him. There was a confrontation. Things were said. 

Things? Brienne-in-his-mind prods him indignantly. Have you forgotten already?

I remember every word. He sighs. Unfortunately.

The gates to Winterfell stand open for now. Probably so that Wintertown can run inside, if someone rings the alarm. Jaime passes through and takes the gravel path to the old castle. It’s a sturdy thing, for being several hundred years old. Solid and undecayed. Sure, they have to replace the wood every few decades, but the stone is thick and unbroken. There are walls behind walls, like any medieval keep, and courtyards and gates separating them. Guards stand atop the fortifications with guns, and they watch him approaching. Wary, but welcoming. Anyone not undead is allowed to pass through, at least to the midden.

The kids are here at Winterfell, probably. Somewhere. Many of them stayed, he has heard. The Starks for sure, and maybe some of the other strays he and Brienne had picked up along the way. Any of the running kids in Wintertown could have been Apple, that baby that Willow and Sansa had fawned over. He would be five, six years old now. That is, if he were alive. 

He doesn’t want to see any of them if he can help it. Best not to go inside the Great Keep then. He goes to the Great Hall instead. The velvet ropes are all taken down. It was a tourist trap for a lot of years, before its fortifications became unexpectedly useful again. Used to be you could get a feast inside, with cosplayers and a jester and a bard, and then you could get back in your car and drive away home. 

Bit different now. The fires are still roaring, but put to more practical use. Broken furniture surrounds the great fireplaces where they have been stripping the upholstery and feeding the fire. Laundry is strung up before them, and boils in great kettles. Nearer to mealtime the laundry will be replaced with soup and stew. The fireplaces in the living quarters had been stripped out long ago, replaced with appliances that no longer work. They have to do nearly everything in the great hall now, and gather in smaller rooms. 

The head washerwoman takes his message back to the living quarters and Jaime sits down to wait. There is an armchair that is strikingly comfortable for as old as it looks, upholstered in a velvety material. It might be some kind of antique, something with a PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH sign on it back when this was a museum. There isn’t much use for antiques anymore. He sits in the chair.

He sits back and stares at nothing for a time. He might have fallen asleep, because the girls appear as if by magic, just as he remembers them but taller and leaner, their chubby faces hollowed by early adulthood. 

Sansa is quite tall, for a Stark anyway. She looks like her mother otherwise; red-haired, high-cheekboned, very pretty. Her sister looks like their father, sturdy and strong-jawed, Northern. They stare at him owlishly, and he wonders what he looks like to them. He is not nearly so changed -- grew a beard, added some lines around his eyes -- but they were children when they saw him last, and they are not children now. He has to look up to see them.

“You came for Brienne,” Arya says abruptly -- as usual she realizes the obvious first and doesn’t hesitate to speak it aloud. 

Jaime nods. There isn’t much more to say than that.

“We had a memorial,” Sansa hovers over him awkwardly, looking unsure. “All of Winterfell came, much of Wintertown as well. We would have waited if we had known you would come.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” He says it more sharply than he intends.

Arya snaps back. “You’ve been gone a long time, and not a single letter. What else could we think?”

Sansa stops her with a hand to her shoulder. She was always an empathetic child. “You’re welcome here now. Can I get you anything?”

“Your brother. If he’s here.” His eyes drift to Widow’s Wail, where it sits on the floor beside him. “I’ve heard he was there when it happened. I need to hear it from him.”

Sansa leans forward and touches his hands, briefly. “We can take you to him.”

He can only nod. 

He follows the girls through the old fortress into a more modern living area. Home, most like. The Starks have all congregated here, the ones left.

Jon Snow he has never met before. The girls’ half-brother. Lord Snow of Winterfell, now. He stands straight and stiff, trying to look older than he is. He has a warm parka on over his polar fleece, something puffy and filled with down. It’s hard to be serious in a puffy coat without coming off at least faintly ridiculous, but the young man manages it somehow. 

“She was a great help to my family,” Jon says, and shakes his hand vigorously. “A great fighter, the bravest of all of us, and the kindest too. Every one of us here at Winterfell thought very highly of her.”

“And your mission?” Jaime shuts down the reminiscence quickly. He does not want to remember Brienne here. Certainly not with the Starks.

Jon hangs his head. “It wasn’t a complete waste. But it wasn’t quite what we wanted, either.”

He gestures to a sofa. Jaime sits on the edge of it, unwilling to relax. This is rather too much civilization for him right now. Jon sits down expansively on an easy chair, and runs a hand through wild black hair. 

“We were hoping to find something that would explain where the Others come from. We thought the Black Mountains might have the answer, the mountains and the land beyond. It’s hard to find much on the Mountains though -- only one road is passable, everywhere else is ice and deep snow. Beyond the Mountains there is a place they’re calling Craster’s Keep. We knew something was very wrong there. We should have stayed away.” Jon shakes his head, so serious. 

Jaime waits.

“We suspected they were colluding with the Others somehow. The ones on the Mountain. The old man… it was terrible. What he was doing. We had to put a stop to it. Brienne followed one of the men to their meeting place, where the Others come down the Mountain. She never came back.”

That is rather less definitive than Jaime wants to hear. 

“That’s all? Did you search?” he asks sharply.

Jon looks defensive at first, but softens quickly. “I assure you, if there was anything to find, we would have found it. We were very fond of her. There were signs of a battle, and several Others fallen there. But of her there was no sign. There was no body.” Jon looks reluctant to continue. “We did find this.”

Hesitantly, he holds out the wrapped bundle to Jaime. He knows it immediately. Takes it like he took the grenades, carefully and reluctantly.

His hands unwrap the thing before he can think twice, to show himself what he already knows. It’s Brienne’s titanium bat. Bloodstained, dirty, with a single chip in it near the tip. 

They had nicknamed it Oathkeeper, way back then. It was more like a mythical sword than a bat. Titanium bats weren’t even allowed in baseball, in any league. They hit the ball so hard it was dangerous to the other players. They probably shouldn’t have been made in the first place, and they stopped making them decades before the Others came and their true usefulness became apparent. 

Jaime holds the bat. Brienne had carried this thing for so long. He puts his fingers where she would have put hers, the way a player held it  to hit a ball. He can see the mark of her fingers there, slowly rubbed into the metal across the years. 

Jon is still talking. “These Others are different. Our Others will kill and turn. But these... We suspect that they consume the bodies instead of raising them. I think there was nothing remaining to find.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Jaime stands.

“If you will insist…” Jon rises as well, solemn. “My friend Sam stayed behind there. If you reach Craster’s Keep, ask for Sam. He’ll tell you what you need to know.”

*****************  

He passes a night there, lying awake in a bed. 

They gave him her room. A quiet, out-of-the-way guest bedroom with little in the way of modern amenities. It has a homey feeling, just the same. It feels like her.

She left some things there; little knick-knacks. She liked to pick up small things, put them in her pockets. Her coat had loads of pockets hidden everywhere. By the end of the day she would have lots of little treasures. You could turn her upside down and shake her and all sorts of shiny treats would come rolling out. Figurines, stones, tiny toys. They’re arranged all around the room, on the windowsill, on the dresser. Probably if he went through her clothes he would find more things still hidden away in her pockets. The coat, though, that wouldn’t be there in the closet, he knows without looking. She would have it with her, wherever she has gone.

Jaime leaves her things alone. It’s enough to know they’re there, waiting for her. 

Brienne slept in this bed. This is the only home she had, so far as he knows. She stayed here after he left, here at Winterfell. She would have rested here -- she was still a little sick. It had been a few weeks, at least, before she went back to the Kingsroad. After that she came back here between adventures, making the long, dangerous journey there and back again. In the dead of winter she would rest here at least a month, from what he could tell, every year.

He should have stayed with her. 

She never asked him. Not out loud. But he knows, deep down, he would have been welcome. He knew it then, too. But he had left her at Winterfell and gone back. Back to the arms of his family who needed him more than she ever would. Back to his father and his expectations, to his siblings who needed his protection. The job was over, and he went back to where he belonged. 

Not a day has gone by that he doesn’t regret it. 

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

In the morning he is lacing his new boots in the great hall, a gift from Jon. They are a little large, but warm, and useful for maneuvering on ice. He suspects they had once belonged to Ned Stark; certainly none of the Stark boys have feet this big.

Jon has also given him a down parka like his own. Such a thing would fetch a lot in trade these days, but he insists Jaime take it. “This is the least I can do, for bringing my brother and sisters home.” 

Jaime promises to return it, though he can see that Jon does not expect to see him at Winterfell again. Neither of them do.

His pack has been refilled with food, bandages, antiseptic, and an icepick. Arya had thrust the bag at him wordlessly and turned on her heel and left and he does not see her again. How much and how little people change from when they are small; he can still see the dark-eyed child in the woman she is becoming. It makes him feel positively ancient.

Sansa accompanies him to the gates of Winterfell, gliding elegantly over the snow in her warm winter coat. She chatters as much as she always did, though it was never to him before. She used to keep her distance from him, as she had from most men. She misses Brienne, he realizes, looking at her. She must have been like an older sister, or an aunt, or...

He never did lay eyes on Rickon, did he? He is probably running wild somewhere, running with the wolves. He doesn’t ask, though he suspects Sansa would like him to. Nor does he ask about Willow, or Gendry, or any of the others. He has too much to carry already.

“You’re different,” Sansa tells him, nearing the gates.

“You’re older,” he says. “You see me better.”

“Maybe.” The auburn beauty frowns. “Do you think she’s still alive out there?”

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to see the concern on her face, not if it’s for him.

“Do you think Brienne would want you to do this? Go after her like this?”

No. “That won’t stop me.” 

“She would want you to go on with your life.”

“I don’t care.” He can’t quite look at Sansa. He couldn’t look at Arya either. They remind him of too much. 

“Why did you never come back? She waited for you. She was still waiting.”

He shuts his eyes against her. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t. Not now.”

Sansa sniffles, and her voice trembles. “I’m so sorry. You were both so good to us. I’m so sorry,” she repeats, and tries to put her arms around him, but he’s already walking away.

He’s going through the gates of Winterfell, straight down the boulevard of Wintertown.

He doesn’t stop. He turns to the Black Mountains, and keeps walking.

[lucilleandherrobots]

[question for Lucille if you accept them] What’s your fondest memory of your dad? Your worst one?

Lucille: Which one...? Ah what the hell. I'll answer for both.

Lucille: For my biological father, hard to choose a good memory cause there's plenty! Though I suppose the best one would be the night before I married Nate. He had an old truck at the time. Had it since I was a little girl and we used to camp under the stars when I was a child... this one was special... we talked about my mom, how we wished she'd be there to walk me down the isle. We talked about the wedding, what married life was like after that...

Lucille thinks back to that fond memory and recalls it well...

Gardio: Marriage might change you, it might not. Remember to stay true to yourself... I know this in itself is one big compromise, that this isn't how you wanted things to be. Remember, I'm always here for you, angel. *pets her hair* It's not too late to call off the wedding...

Lucille: No... I want to do this... It isn't just for me. It's also for Nate. He's my best friend... it keeps eyes off of both of our backs if we're married.

Gardio: *nods and kisses his little girl's forehead* Tomorrow, I'll have to give my little light away... *sniffs*

Lucille: I don't like that phrase... I'm still going to be your daughter, aren't I?

Gardio: Of course... But you're all grown up. Just yesterday you were learning how to walk. Now you're getting married. Next you'll be having a kid! It's moving so fast, I can't keep up!

Lucille: Maybe you're getting too old to keep up.

Gardio: Or maybe someone needs to slow down so this old man can keep up.

Lucille: No way...! Hush and look at the stars!

Gardio: *smiles* But I have a little star shining bright right next to me, so full of life and about to start a new one tomorrow. Why would I ever look up at the burnt out ones long dead in the depths of space?

Lucille: Because even the burnt out ones are beautiful? *smiles back*

Gardio: *fakes a wounded look* Ooh! Got your old man good! *laughs and looks to the sky*

Lucille looks down at the food she's cooking for another long mission...

Lucille: Of course my worst memory...? He came after my gang, the Red Fox. We were a band of Robin Hood vigilantes that stole from the upper class well-to-do folks... I hid but I saw one of our members get caught and interrogated roughly by one of the officers on the case.

Lucille: *throws a slab of Mutant hound meat on to cook with some tasty ingredients* My father thankfully stepped in before things got out of control... but lets just say the beatings and derogatory names Jackie endured so they'd rat everyone out were too much before my father intervened.

Lucille: *loudly cleaving Mutant hound meat* I don't know if he was frightened, scared, or just a coward, but I found it difficult to talk to my father for a while after that. Jackie didn't talk, obviously. They were used to keeping confidential information out of the hands of the police- they were a psychiatrist, you see...

Lucille: *whiping her hands clean as she prepares to handle some radstag meat* Now Nick? Heh. What can I say about the detective that hasn't been said before? Honestly, I love his stories- the one about pretending to be a bomb is my favorite. And not even when he took on my case when no one else would. No. It's when I first got back from the Institute...

She throws the radstag steaks onto the stove as she recalls the memory.

Lucille: *zaps back just outside of the Mercer Safehouse* Oh god... I never thought I'd be so glad to see dead trees and mutated plant life but here we are... *she walks toward the settlement*

Curie: Mamoiselle! You've returned! *already running down the hill in her Mechanist armor to give the power armor clad sole survivor a big hug* We have missed you, so!

Hancock: *sauntering down with Dogmeat at his side* Hey! Look who's back among the mostly living! Just one question, how do we know it's really you in there and not some clone?

Lucille: It's me you guys. Truly.

Curie: So, what was it like? Oh please tell me! I do not have the luxury of going with you so I must hear every detail for my studies!

Lucille: *laughs playfully* In time, Curie. I'll probably be going back to complete the operation... Where's Nick?

Hancock: At the work shop, keeping busy. Dude's been real quiet. I think he's worried you got lost in there. It's been about what? Almost two weeks before you went flying off into the unknown?

Lucille: I see. Better go say hi, then. *starts going up the hill...

Nick: *looking over some old case files at the work bench*

Lucille: Nick...

Nick: *freezes, hearing the familiar voice. He looks up to see the power armor she left in* Lucille? Is it really you?

Lucille: No one else.

Nick: *looks so relieved* When you didn't come back, I started to have my doubts. I thought maybe the Institute got their hooks into you or worse-

Lucille: *voice breaks* I found Shaun... He... he's an old man... I missed 60 years of his life while I was frozen in stasis.

Nick: *surprised* That's- Luce, I'm so sorry.

Lucille: That's not all... he's the director of the Institute... He's their leader... *feels like she's going to break down and cry. She slips out of the power armor so she can sit down* 60 years Nick... and he's one of the monsters we've been fighting.

Nick: *sits next to her* Hey, the world isn't quite over yet... Things could still turn around. Let's take it one day at a time. We'll see what the world throws at us.

Lucille: *sniffs* Thanks, Nick...

Lucille sighs over the rad stag steaks, nearly done cooking.

Lucille: It's not the most happy memory... but Nick... I was surprised by how much he worried for me. The worst came with the destruction of the Prydwen... but I won't dwell on that, too much.

Lucille: *she finishes her cooking, wraps it in tin and throws it in her bag. She smiles at you, a settler in one of her settlements that got curious about the General's past* Thanks for the questions. Not many people other than Nick and Curie ask about my past so it was good to get it off my chest. *she turns to the wastes and starts to leave. Well! Best of luck! I'm off to gather more scrap and save some wayward Synths!

[soft-for-them]

Shrapnel ♡ Mission Impossible x reader

Anon 🐛: Hello! If possible, I’d like to request a platonic IMF team x fem reader, where reader gets injured somehow on a mission and the team tries to help patch her up but she’s extremely self-conscious and keeps refusing to let them remove an item of clothing for better access to the wound or something (eventually giving in, of course). Hope you have a great day! :)

I’m going for the ethan, benji, luther and ilsa team because they are my favourite IMF team so I guess this is set after fall out. Female reader. injury mentioned.

Proof read, edited and remastered on 20.10.2021

The mission was supposed to be a small one but all of the team had gotten injured somehow making the small job a lot harder. 

Sure, the gang you and the team were tasked to take down weren’t a threat to the whole wide world like the Syndicate and August Walker, which was your first ever field mission with the IMF, a mission that cemented you as a permanent member of the team. However, now you, Benji and Ilsa stand out of breath and waiting for either Luther to drive up in the get away car or for Ethan to somehow ‘save the day’ like he always seems to do.

The IMF team has successfully defeated the rouge gang but in the process the building behind you in burning up like fireplace from the explosion that was caused moments ago.

Benji and Ethan were closest to the impact of the bomb without being in direct contact with the flames but you had pulled Benji out the way of a window that had shattered from the fire causing a slight pain in your torso.

The both of you have assumed that Ethan had survived like he always does so all you need to do now is wait.

“Hurry up, hurry up.” Benji mutters to himself as Ilsa tries to treat a gash on his arm and the scratches adorned his face. The blonde man winces as she ties his arm up with the remnants of non burnt bits of his jacket.

“You’re lucky that (y/n) pulled you away when she did.” both Ilsa and Benji give you a thankful smile, “You could have been pierced in the gut by some shrapnel or be burnt alive but the fire.”

“I should have stayed at my desk job.” You chuckle at the two agents as Benji starts swatting Ilsa’s hands away from his arm.

“Same here!” Benji jokes for he knows what it’s like to be pulled from your desk job to an action packed agent life.

You laugh some more but not because you find it particularly funny, you do always joke with Benji about stuff like that but you’re not laughing because of that. No, you’re laughing for you feel a stinging pain in your side and you’re trying to hide your pain.

When you had pulled Benji from the explosion you had gotten hit too. Sure, you thought it was just some cuts and lots of inhaling of black smoke but as you hunch down further you realise that the shrapnel might of hit you instead of Benji.

All the adrenaline and the fact that you haven’t looked down at your now bleeding side means that the pain isn’t as bad as it will become.

“(Y/n) are you ok?” the concerned voice of Benji calls out to you, the sweet man’s concern for you making you look up with a small smile.

“I just-“ what do you say to him? Do you lie to them both? Can you even lie to them? “I’m still out of breath from all the running and smoke Benji.”

Your voice is hoarse from the smoke and you’re face looks fine but not convinced by your act Ilsa gets up to check over you.

 Thankfully for you she is interrupted by Luther pulling up in a four door green family car one a mother would driver her kid into school.

“Where’s Ethan!?!” he shouts concern in his voice.

A mixture of Benji, Ilsa and you answering is heard, all saying around about the same thing of ‘he got away!’ satisfies the hat wearing agent for now.

Ilsa tries to help you up to the car but you brush her off and make her go to Benji who is wobbling around like a newborn deer. With a prolonged inhale of now clean air you shuffled to the car, opening one of the side doors to clamber into.

Ilsa and Benji take the seats furthers to the back of the six seater car and you flop across the middle seats, leaving Luther on his own in the front of the car.

“Ahhhh!” you exhale with a small scream like sound which gets everyone’s attention on you.

“You’re not ok (L/n)!” Ilsa shouts about to climb over into the middle seats.

“I’m fine my lungs just hurt from the smoke!” technically that’s a half truth but really the pain is from wound trickling blood down your side.

Ilsa is interrupted once more by a small flash of Ethan Hunt running up near the family car windows.

Such a small man can run too fast.

With all your strength you lean up and open the sliding door for Ethan to jump in. The small man catapults himself next to you in the little space you’ve left. His hair is singed by the fire and his face is covered in sweat and ash but he climbs over into the passenger seat next to Luther just fine.

“Of course you survived!” Benji calls out half jokingly half in relief. 

The blur of Ethan and Luther talking lulls you into a sleepy state, the pain of your side almost disappearing. However, you’re snapped out of your sleepy trance but the ever so slightly frantic voice of Ilsa. 

“Luther drive quicker!” She frantically says as she finally scales over the seat to you.

You’re too out of it to move your legs so the woman basically lifts them up like you’re a child hogging the sofa. With worry she looks at your side which is less dark blur from you coat but more rich purple from the blood imbedding into the fabric.

“Damn, she was hit by the blast hard!” Ilsa sounds panicked as your try to keep your eyes open.

It’s all a blur but you see Benji pass the medical kit to her and you feel Luther picking up speed in the small minivan. 

”Why didn’t you tell me?” Ilsa says as she tries to lift up your coat and shirt.

“No.” you push her away, “It isn’t bad.”

“Have you looked at it (y/n)?” Benji asks which you reply with a shake of the head.

“I was- I was runnin-“ you start to disconnect with the world, slurring your words as your eyes begin to close.

“Stay with me (L/n).” Ilsa says as she tries to lift your shirt.

“Nooooo, you’ll see my body.” you whine in your out of it state self, the words turning into nothing as you drift away.

You look over to your dear friend Benji, who you always joke with your blurry eyes seeing a man near to crying.

“Benji. Imma ok, I don’t feel it that much.”

Ilsa tries again to lift your shirt which by any rate will be most blood if you don’t let her lift it soon.

“Ilsa no… I don’t want you to see my body, I hate it…” you gasp.

In any given time you wouldn’t of been so truthful but maybe the lack of blood or the humming feeling of tiredness has turned off you thinking.

“You are beautiful but you will be less beautiful if you bleed to death.” With her normally stoic facade down she starts to plea with you, “Please (y/n), let me help!”

“…Huh, uh, as long as the men in this vehicle look away.” you slur as the pain starts to get slightly worse.

All of the men look away from you; Benji sitting back down in his seat, Ethan fiddling with hidsen gun and Luther looking back to the road.

Ilsa takes your top layers off showing the bit of glass digging out of your side blood making you (colour) skin deep red. You look down to see just how bad the injury is only to feel a huge wave of pain drown you and the urge to pass out.

“Looking at it makes it worse.” Ilsa says as she applies pressure to wound without taking the large bit of glass out.

“We’re almost here!” Luther calls as he magically slides the car under a closing garage door, he carries on driving to a lower level where he stops the car and he immediately gets out to help you along with the rest of the IMF.

“No looking at my bra!” you whine as Luther slides open the door closets to your head, Ilsa making sure you don’t fall backwards.

“We’re looking at that thing in your side (y/n) not you boobs!” Benji jabbers is in a flurry as he tries and help with you.

Ilsa and Luther get you out and lead you to a door, which Benji opens, Ethan not far behind talking to someone on the phone.

“We have an agent who need urgent medical treatment!” he urges as you hobble with Luther and Ilsa inside.

.

.

It has now been a month since your injury and the ragged piece of glass than had scared your side in now displayed on your desk, a reminder that you’re lucky that you aren’t dead.

For the last most since then Benji has been acting like an overprotective best friend telling you that you shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are along with some dad jokes sprinkled in to make you smile.

Luther and Ethan have been more concerned about your health and healing but you still got a talking to from the men about how the IMF don’t judge anyone for what they look like. (That conversion was mostly from Ethan and Luther nodding his head in the background.)

You’re still in shock about how much Ilsa had cares for you. She had called you by your first name and she had also called you beautiful, a thing she had never done before that day.

Even now in-between missions as you sit behind a desk you’ll get a short and sweet text from her asking how your are.

You stretch out in you spinny chair with a relieved sigh. 

There’s still a long way to go with excepting your body but with all that had happened to you feel more comfortable with yourself and the IMF team.

.

.

.

Edit: Proof reading may still be off because I’m tired, still love Benji and Ilsa.

Old description:

Did i write this right after i got the request? yes, but i don’t know how good this is. it’s too late for all this writing but i did it!

also i want to write an ilsa x plus size reader and/or a benji x plus size reader because i love them both! (i get gay panic for ilsa and i just find benji adorable!)