#ASL HENRY HELL YEAH

[seashoreships]

If shipping is alright, I’d like to see this in your art style! Color reference is the second image. If ur not doing ship art, then I completely understand and sorry for bothering.

HI HELLO!! OF COURSE I DO SHIP ART!!! STICKVIN BLAST GOOOOO

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 17 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Following the fallout of their argument, the reader is still trying to deal with their thoughts about Negan. Meanwhile, Daryl, Connie, Lydia, and Henry arrive at Alexandria. With everything going on and the fair only a day away, there are decisions to be made.

Word Count: 4372

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “First” by Cold War Kids

Note: Another filler before our big part which is up next...I am putting all the fair stuff in one part and I MEAN EVERYTHING. Part 19 will be the blizzard so Part 18 is going to be A LOT. *ALL ASL IN ITALICS*

---------

Something felt different when you woke up. 

Your mother always used to say that people could feel it in the air when something was to come. You never put much stock in her ramblings, but that particular quote was sticking in your mind as you sat up in your bed.

Sunlight was streaming in through the window and you could hear the faint sounds of Alexandrians starting their days. The nightmares had been worse than usual during the night before and after waking up for the second time, you had to nearly restrain yourself from venturing out of your house and towards another. 

The fact that Negan was the first person you thought of when fear entered your body made you feel even more confused. You were still furious with him, that much was clearly evident, but he was still there in the back of your mind. He was in your dreams, your everyday thoughts, and while you should have been focusing on Alpha and Daryl’s rescue plan, Negan was all you could think about. 

After getting ready for the day, you strapped on Paul’s sword and headed from your home and towards the meeting hall. It still felt odd to consider the sword yours even though Aaron had given it to you personally. You began to wonder if imposter syndrome extended towards melee weapons. 

Walking down the main road, you saw Judith with her brother heading towards the makeshift graveyard. You knew where she was going and you also knew that Judith loved to tell stories she heard from her mom about Carl. While Judith didn’t have many memories of her big brother, she could still remember what it felt like to be carried by him and how he cared for her. Carl had been there since the beginning to look after her and now it was Judith’s turn to do so for RJ.

Your gaze lingered on them for a bit before your eyes caught a commotion at the main gate. You could see Michonne standing on the watch post, looking down. With a furrowed brow, you began to walk forward when a movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

Stopping in front of the Grimes’ house, you looked to see Negan leaning against the bars of his window. He looked at you with those same beautiful hazel eyes and determined set of his jaw. You stared back, remembering the last conversation you had had with the man. Negan had nearly begged you for forgiveness and you weren’t sure if you were actually willing to give it. At least, not yet. He went to say something when the gate slid open up ahead. Looking back, you were stunned at what you saw. 

Daryl, Lydia, Connie, and to your ultimate surprise, Henry, were walking towards you. Dog trotted in front of his master, his tail up as he noticed you. When they got closer, you finally saw the state that your friend was in.

“Daryl?” you asked, shocked to see blood, Living blood, on his face and clothes. “What the hell happened to you?” you asked as you left Negan behind and ran up to him. 

“Kids need some food,” was all Daryl said. You then noticed that Henry was limping.

“They also need medical attention,” you said and then waved down Siddiq who was walking alongside Rosita. “Come on,” you said and then reached for Lydia who was shaking slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but you just shook your head. 

“Not your fault, kid,” you said, brushing the hair from her face. “Let’s get you looked at.” 

As Siddiq took a look at Henry and Lydia, Laura stood watch at Michonne’s request. You stood on the porch of the infirmary with Daryl, Michonne, and Connie. While your signing was still a bit rough, you could get by well enough for the time being. You had taught Deaf students when you were a teacher and you found that your knowledge of the language was slowly coming back to you. 

“Are you hurt?” you asked Connie. She shook her head and then made the “D” letter with her right hand and dragged it over her eye. You then realized that was the Name Sign she had given to Daryl, most likely due to his scar. You thought it was fitting. 

Connie was telling you that Daryl was hurt, but you knew that he wouldn’t even let you clean his wounds until he knew the kids were okay. 

“Someone wanna tell me what happened?” you asked as you leaned against the side of the house, your ankles crossed. 

“Beta happened,” Daryl said as he matched your position on the other side. 

“Alpha’s man,” Connie signed and you translated for Michonne and Laura, who was listening in the doorway. 

“So, it’s not just Alpha we have to worry about? Great,” you said with a deep sigh. 

“Asshole is massive,” Daryl said. “Threw me around like I was nothin’ and didn’t hesitate at all to try and kill us. Lydia says he’s the best fighter they got.” 

“Fantastic,” you groaned. 

“He’s the one that captured Henry,” Daryl explained. 

“Which brings me to my question,” Michonne said. “Why the hell was Carol’s son out there in the first place?”

“He went after her, didn’t he? After we traded her for Alden and Luke?” you asked and Daryl nodded. 

“Takes after his damn mother,” Daryl muttered, but you could hear a bit of admiration in his tone. Which was how he usually sounded when he spoke about Carol. 

“How’d you get her back?”

“Got into their camp,” Daryl said. “There’s a lot more of these assholes than we thought. We couldn’t see all of ‘em, but there are enough to make me nervous.” 

“You being nervous, makes me nervous,” you said pushing off the wall.

“Where’s he now?” Michonne asked. “Beta?”

“Threw his giant ass down an elevator shaft,” Daryl said. 

“So, he’s dead?” Daryl looked between you, Connie, and Michonne and you could see the fatigue weighing on him and also, the anger.

“For all our sakes,” he said. “He better be.”

------

Once the Doc had cleared both Lydia and Henry, you invited the teenagers as well as Connie and Daryl to stay in your house for the time being.

You knew that Daryl wanted to keep moving in case Alpha had sent out more scouts, but you also knew that they needed to take a breather, even if it was just until nightfall.

You could hear Connie sitting and playing with Dog outside while Daryl spoke with Henry. You knew how important Henry was to Carol and because of that, Daryl would do anything to protect the kid. 

However, right now, he seemed to be taking on the role of disappointed uncle. He was using his “parent voice” as you liked to call it. He used to use it a lot with Carl and then when Judith would cause trouble years before. Beth once joked that he had become the father of the group. Daryl had just rolled his eyes, but you knew that meant a lot to him. It told him that all of you, even Rick, relied on him. 

Lydia was sitting in the living room when you found her. Sitting next to her on the couch, you tried to see the resemblance between her and her mother. It was there slightly, but only in looks. You couldn’t see the hatred that you saw in Alpha. However, you did see a small bit of resilience and that only told you how much she had to adapt to live within the Dead. 

“I’m sorry,” you began. Lydia looked at you in confusion. “I said a lot of horrible things to you when we had you locked up. I made assumptions and it was unfair.”

“I didn’t really give you much of a chance to trust me,” Lydia said, turning her attention back to her hands in her lap. 

“Then I guess we both need fresh starts,” you said and then offered her your hand. “Hi, I’m (Y/N).” Lydia hesitantly took your hand and gave you a small smile. 

“I’m Lydia,” she said and you smiled at her. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Lydia.” When you dropped her hand, she glanced back towards where Daryl and Henry were. 

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Lydia said, talking about Jesus. “And because my mom took your other friends.”

“We got them back,” you reminded her. “I just wish we could have gotten them back without throwing you back to the wolves.”

“Yeah, then maybe Henry wouldn’t have gone after me and gotten hurt,” she said sadly. 

“Maybe not, but Henry is as stubborn as his mother and as loyal as his father. Trust me when I say that he doesn’t need an excuse to make dumbass decisions.”

“What’s his mom like?” Lydia asked and you paused, trying to figure out how to put Carol into words. 

“I’ve known his mom for a very long time. Actually since the beginning of all this,” you began. “Carol has been through a lot and she has lost a lot of people to get to the place she is right now. She has lost children, especially. Carol isn’t a person whom you need to be afraid of if you have good intentions.”

“And if you have bad intentions?” Lydia asked carefully.

“Let’s just say that when she wants to be, Carol can be even more terrifying than your mother. The difference is, is that Carol’s rage and her skills come from love and the need to protect her family.”

“You don’t think my mom is like that?” 

“I don’t know your mother,” you admitted. “Though I have known people like her and if I had to guess what she values most, I would say it’s power and survival. Alpha seems to be the person who would sacrifice her young to protect the pack and that is why I don’t want you to go back to her.”

“You don’t even know me,” Lydia said. “You only know what you’ve seen.”

“ ‘To perceive is to suffer’,” you quoted with a smile. Lydia’s brow furrowed. “Aristotle said that,” you explained. 

“Who?” 

“I’ll tell you about them later. Point is,” you said, taking her hand, “I only saw what I wanted to see because I thought that suffering was better than trying to see your side of everything.”

“So, what does this mean?” Lydia asked. 

“It means that I am not going to let anything happen to you. Especially at the hands of your mother.”

----------

Later that day, Michonne found you. 

Daryl was inside with the others when she came walking towards your house. She gestured you down off the porch as she got closer. “What’s up?” you asked as you approached. 

“We’re doin’ the fair,” Michonne explained. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Michonne nodded and then let out a heavy sigh. 

“Henry said that The Kingdom is failing. They need this. Judith recently reminded me that we need each other and that we need to start thinking about the others again.”

“Wise girl,” you complimented and she smiled.

“Just like her dad,” Michonne said. 

“Michonne, I want to help Kingdom, you know I do. I would do anything to help Carol and Ezekiel, but what if Alpha finds out that we have her kid? What then? Not to mention that Daryl attacked Beta and we don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

“We’ll deal with it, just as we’ve dealt with everything else.”

“We’ve never seen anything like this before and you know it.”

“We can’t ignore them anymore, our friends,” she explained. “I know this is going to be rough, but we’ve won wars before.”

“So you do think this is going to end in a fight, then?” 

“It always does, (Y/N),” Michonne said. 

“I know you don’t trust her, Lydia, I mean,” you said. 

“You’re right, I don’t,” she said. 

“There is a lot of shit goin’ on right now, but we have to protect her just like we once protected Enid when she had nobody.”

“Enid isn’t the daughter of a killer,” Michonne reminded you. 

“No, she’s not, but she could have gone down a different path. Just because she found Alexandria, that doesn’t mean that she couldn’t have turned for the worse. If it wasn’t for Maggie and… and Carl, who knows what would have happened to her.” Michonne was quiet for a moment. 

“You’re saying that Henry is Lydia’s Carl?” 

“I’m saying that she’s a scared kid who needs everyone in her corner to keep her safe and help her make the right decision.”

“And that’s gonna be you?” 

“I’m gonna damn well try to be.”

---------

It was night when Daryl and the others were getting ready to leave. 

You met them at the gate as Connie helped Henry balance on his staff, trying to get a rhythm going for their travels. You figured they were going to be headed to Kingdom, but you didn’t know where Daryl would be going after that. Lydia stood by, watching the duo with a smile. 

When Daryl noticed you standing off to the side, he joined you. “We didn’t get a chance to talk. Not really,” he said. 

“There will be other times,” you said with a bump to his shoulder. 

“Judith talked to me,” he said.

“Yeah?” you asked, avoiding the look he was giving you. 

“You should know that she hears a lot more than ya think.”

“Meaning she heard the argument Negan and I had,” you realized. Daryl grunted in agreement. “Just great.”

“She’s worried about ya, thinks you’re not gonna forgive him,” Daryl said. 

“Judith should mind her own business,” you muttered.

“Are ya? Going to forgive him?”

“What would be the point? The situation is gonna still be the same. Negan is gonna be locked up and I’ll be out trying to fight another battle that we shouldn’t be in in the first place.”

“Self-pity don’t look good on ya,” Daryl said.

“That’s not—”

“Ya, it is,” he interrupted. “I already told ya my thoughts on you and him. I still stand by them, but ya gotta start usin’ your brain, Kid.” You smiled at the nickname. It was something he had called you when you first met, even though you were around the same age as Maggie.  

“I thought the heart was supposed to make these kinds of decisions?” 

“Nah, ya gotta use both. Don’t believe that poetic bullshit.” 

“Are you sure you weren’t a motivational speaker before all this?” you joked. 

“Not unless ya count me yellin’ at Merle to get his shit together when the son of a bitch was high and chasin’ birds through the streets.” 

“I do,” you decided. Daryl snorted but stayed quiet. “You’re leavin’ with Lydia after you get Henry home, aren’t you?”

“It’s for the best,” he said. 

“Is it?” 

“People don’t trust her,” Daryl said. 

“That’s not her fault.” 

“No, it ain’t,” he said, “but I’m not about to leave her vulnerable to people who don’t want her around. Maybe removing Lydia from the equation will make Alpha leave everyone else alone.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you sighed. 

“I gotta try.”

“I know,” you said and then leaned into him. He put his arm around and you savored the small moment. “Please be careful.” 

“I will,” he said and then he pushed back to see your face. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“I know ya have been lost for a while. Judith mentioned you isolate yourself. Maybe you just need a break.”

“What happened to me needing to figure out my shit here?”

“Fuck that,” Daryl said. “I ain’t always right.”

“I’m needed here, D,” you said. 

“By who? Michonne? Or Negan?”

“Judith,” you said. “RJ, Laura, Scott, Gabriel, Siddiq, and Ro who are about to be parents,” you reminded him. “I can’t just run away.” He caught your double meaning. 

“Ya mean like I did?” he asked, but there was no venom in his voice. 

“I never blamed you for leaving after Rick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think that you should have been around more.” He nodded, understanding where you were coming from. 

“So, that’s a no?”

“Yeah, D, it’s a no,” you said and then sighed, but pulled you back into him, gripping you tight. 

“Remember what I said, Kid, don’t try to fix him. We are the way we are and if you somehow found something you care about in a man like that, don’t try to find a reason to ruin it.”

“I thought people could change,” you said into the side of his neck. 

“They can, but deep down, there’s always that one thing that makes them, them,” he said. 

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he whispered. “Yours is that you don’t give up. Never have, and I don’t think ya ever will. I’ll see ya soon, I ain’t gonna just disappear again.” 

“Promise?”

“Ya, I promise.”

“Good,” you said and then squeezed him once more before he shouldered his bow and with a quick whistle had Dog running after him. You actually believed him this time that you would see him soon and that was comforting. Connie waved to you as the gate slid closed and you were only hoping that whatever they had planned, they would get through it alive.

---------

The next day, it was early and Alexandria was saddling up to head out for The Kingdom. 

You found yourself heading to Aaron’s, trying to muster up the courage to speak to him. You missed him and you knew that whatever was going on between the two of you, you needed to deal with it before it got worse. 

Knocking on the door and Gracie answered. “Hey Gracie,” you greeted. “Is your dad home?”

“Daddy! (Y/N)’s here!” she shouted behind her and then turned back to you with a large grin on her face. “He’s getting things ready for the fair,” she explained. 

“Are you excited?” you asked as you heard Aaron’s footsteps approaching. 

“Yes!” she said, jumping up and down a bit. Aaron appeared behind her, his eyes narrowed at you on his front porch. 

“Hey,” you said. 

“Gracie, why don’t you go finish putting your bag together?” Aaron suggested. 

“Okay! Bye, (Y/N)!” she said, as exuberantly as always. You didn’t know where she got all her energy from. When she was out of sight, Aaron turned his attention back to you.

“Can we talk?” you asked and he hesitated. “Please.” With a sigh, he gestured to the bench on his porch and you quickly took a seat, eager to say your piece. Aaron was quiet as you took a breath. “Aaron, I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” he asked. 

“Being an asshole and not being a very good friend these past couple of months. I’ve been confused and angry and I have been taking it out on you instead of dealing with it.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” He said with a snort. He then turned his gaze towards the Grimes house and what was beneath it. “I just hate that you stick up for him.” 

“I know.”

“And what’s worse is that I can see that he makes you happy. I don’t know what to do with that, (Y/N).”

“I don’t know what to do with it either. To be honest, I don’t know what to do with any of it. The last thing I ever expected was to care about someone after the world ended, let alone someone like him.”

“Then why do you?” he asked, genuinely curious. “Why Negan?”

“I don’t know, Aaron. I guess maybe because I always felt misunderstood and like an outcast. I’ve done things I’m not proud of and I didn’t think I was worthy of forgiveness…”

“You think we should be forgiving him?” Aaron asked, raising his brows. 

“No, because I know none of you will. I don’t even know if I could ever forgive him for what he did to Glenn and Abraham. I don’t know if I could forgive a lot of the things he did.”

“What do you know?” he asked. 

“I know that whatever I feel for him is my business and something I need to figure out with him and only him. It’s something I would like to do without the entire town ready to pick up torches and pitchforks.” Aaron laughed at that. 

“I don’t think we’d go that far,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you said. “Negan isn’t perfect, but he’s not evil. There is good in him and I’ve seen it, but I need you to know that I don’t expect you to see it too.” 

“Good, cause I won’t,” he said shortly. 

“I know you hate him,” you continued, “but I don’t and I need time to figure out why.”

“Are you asking for my permission?”

“No, absolutely not,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I’m just telling you that I don’t plan to turn my back on him, at least, not just yet.” Aaron nodded, his eyes staring at his boots. His right hand fiddled with the straps on his prosthetic as he thought about your words.

“Why are you mad at him?” Aaron said and you paused, not expecting the question.

“Who says I’m mad at him?” 

“I know you,” he said. 

“God, I really wish people would stop saying that,” you said, rubbing at the back of your neck.

“I’ll tell you what,” Aaron said. “I’ll stop being an ass to you if you stop being an ass to me, deal? I think we’ve lost enough already to not have each other’s backs. I don’t need any more regrets.” You reached over and offered your hand. He took it and squeezed it in his own. The loss of Paul was still weighing on both of you as if it had happened only hours before rather than days. Aaron was trying and so, you decided you should too.

“Okay, I’ll take that deal.” 

“Maybe you just need to take a breather,” Aaron said. “And I mean a real break. One where you’re not dealing with Walkers, Whisperers, or missing friends.”

“Are you suggesting I take a vacation?” you asked with your brows raised. 

“Come with me to the fair,” he offered. “Help us with Kingdom. I know you turned Michonne down, but I am willing to convince you.”

“How are you planning to do that?” you asked. Aaron then smiled at you. 

“I think I overheard Enid say that Alden has been singing more often. How much do you wanna bet he’s gonna get roped into singing a verse or two?” Aaron sent you a wink and you knew that there was no point in arguing with him. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” you relented. “But first, I gotta talk to someone.”

--------

Before you headed out with the caravan, you made a final stop. 

“Here to yell at me some more?” Negan said as you opened the door.

“Do you want me to?” you asked, approaching the bar. 

“Not particularly,” he said as he sat up on his cot. 

“I’m going to the fair,” you announced. He stood up at that. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, concerned. 

“Seems to be. Kingdom needs this and so do I,” you said. 

“I don’t like the thought of you going out there with those freaks running around,” he admitted. 

“I can handle it,” you assured him but then decided to reveal something else. Something you had been careful not to let anyone else know. 

“What is it?”

“They terrify me, Negan. These Whisperers are absolutely horrifying. You asked me not too long ago when the last time I was afraid and I said it was the day Rick died. Now? Now, it’s when I saw those...people walk with the Dead and look at us as if we were the ones who weren’t alive. It was when we were in that graveyard as they killed Jesus... I don’t know what to do with those feelings.” 

Negan thought for a moment, almost moved by the fact that you had decided to come to him with this. Especially considering how your last conversation had gone. All he wanted to do was reach for you and take you into his arms, but he knew had lost those privileges the second he snuck beyond the walls. Instead, he went back to the roots of your communication. He offered a quote. 

“‘I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it’,” he said quietly and you recognized it immediately.

“Nelson Mandela,” you whispered. 

“He was brave, just as you are. I don’t care what they think or what they see. You are stronger than them and the only way they win is if you let them,” Negan said. “Look at me,” he ordered and you did. There was a fire in his eyes, but not the one that was usually there. It wasn’t one of tenderness, but of steel resolve. “Don’t give her an inch. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know you don’t trust me, but I trust you, (Y/N). Help your friends and then come back. We have a lot to talk about.” You nodded, trying to memorize the words that he said, letting them cement in your mind. 

Turning to go, you paused in the doorway. “Promise me something,” you said, looking back over at him. 

“Anything.”

“There’s a line, the one that separates us from becoming like them,” you said and he knew you meant Alpha and her people. “If you ever see me about to cross that line…”

“I’ll drag you back even it means I have to take down every last one of them to do it,” he swore, that fire lighting up his eyes even more. You nodded, grateful for his response. “(Y/N),” he said, stopping you one last time. 

“Yeah?”

“I promise I’ll be here when you come home,” he said and with those words, your heart felt an ounce lighter. 

“I know.”

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[echotrinityme]

You will be loved Chapter 4: An Encounter and A Savior

Henry's POV

I was just finished talking to one of my dads on the phone, he called to check up on me to see how I was doing. I told him I was doing fine and told him the latest updates on my life.

After I was done and headed back inside, I opened the door and walked to the table to apologize for the interruption and just then I saw something that would forever change me.

I saw Calvin kissing Charles on the lips. My eyes started to feel wet, I began to tremble and without saying a goodbye I ran out the door and into the outside world

I thought I heard a voice, but I'm not sure but I didn't care...

Rupert's POV

I called out to Henry as soon he saw Calvin kissing Charles. I noticed some tension between them, I guess I was right he did have a crush on Charles.

I didn't think he would go far as kiss him and right when Henry entered the building. I know I was mean to Henry earlier but I know he doesn't deserve to see them like that especially since he's got a crush on Charles.

A hand touched my shoulder and turned to see Konrad with a worried look on his face. "Go get him." said Konrad. I nodded at and told him to take care of Calvin and Charles.

I ran out the door and tried to find Henry.

No One's POV

"Oi! Henry!"shouted Rupert. "Where are you!"

Rupert looked around for Henry despite being dark and could barely see in the dark.

"Where the bloody hell is he!?"

Meanwhile with Henry, he stopped running and now was walking down the sidewalk in the town the bar was located in.

He sniffed and wiped his face, he kept his down while he walked.

"Why me? I knew I should've confessed earlier, why me...I thought he wasn't interested in anyone."

Henry thought for a moment, he sighed and continued walking. He walked in an alleyway which was a stupid idea to be honest.

While he was walking and mulling over on what he just seen, he didn't noticed a couple of thugs stalking him.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here boys?"

Henry turned around and faced the voice of the strangers. The thugs were dressed like usual thugs but much more intimidating.

"Hey a real pretty one isn't he right Spike?"

Spike was the leader of the thugs called the Rejects(I know an original name)

Spike was 6'4'' with a blue mohawk with leather clothing and accessories, he was also mean and manipulative.

"He sure is, Bullet." replied Spike with a smooth voice. Bullet was Spike's second in command, and he looks up to Spike like he's a hero. Spike walked up to Henry and observed him for a bit.

He lift up Henry's chin up with right hand and smirked, "What's the matter gorgeous?" asked Spike with a teasing tone. Henry trembled a bit but quickly glared at him, he smacked his hand away.

Spike had a surprised look on his and held his sore hand. The other remaining thugs who were watching the scene with interest were Rogue and Crow. Rogue was considered the "brawn" of the Rejects while Crow is the heart of the group. They cared for animals and other living creatures.

"Ooooooh! A feisty one ain't he?" snickered Rogue while Crow laughed. Spike growled at him, grabbed Henry by the neck and slammed him against the wall.

"Listen here you little punk!" yelled Spike.

"No one and I mean no one gets to hit me like that! I think you deserve a punishment." said Spike with an evil smirk on his face.

(Warning: Attempted Rape here)

Without warning Bullet and Rogue grabbed Henry by the shoulders, Henry began to struggle. Spike gave Henry a devious smirk, he then grabbed Henry's zipper and started to unzipped his pants.

"Oh no! Please not like this!" thought Henry. He tried to fight back but Spike's lackeys are strong.

Crow was watching the scene with an anxious look, they didn't like participating but hold some things Spike needs.

"Yo, Crow get me my rope!" shouted Spike. Crow nodded and in his bag he had, he rummaged through the bag and found the rope.

"Got it, Boss!"yelled Crow. They walked over to Spike who held his right hand while his left hand was occupied.

Spike thanked Crow and about to tie up Henry until a voice interrupted them.

"Evening Gentlemen, I could not helped noticed you have someone in your custody." said the voice with a smooth, silky voice.

Everyone turned to the voice and saw a 6'6" man. He was wearing black pants with a grey shirt and a black blazer. He wore brown combat boots and he was leaning against the wall on his right.

Henry stared at the man with mild interest, This man might have saved his life.

"Who the fuck are you?"asked Spike.

The man glanced at Spike and gave him a smile which didn't look like a smile to Spike and Henry.

"The name's Dominic Daemon don't wear it out."

"Well Dominic, as you can see we're busy with this punk so why won't you buzz off so we can continued were we left off." said Spike in an irritated tone.

"Hmmmm, nah what you're about to be doing is illegal and since I'm a concerned guy,I'm afraid I have to stop you." replied Dominic with an angry tone.

"Oh yeah?" taunted Spike. "How are you exactly you are going to that?"

Dominic went up to Spike and lift up his blazer to reveal a handgun in the inner pocket. Spike' eyes widened, so did Rogue and Bullet. Henry's eyes also widened, he wasn't really gonna use the gun...right?

Dominic noticed the scared looks on everyone's faces and he smirked.

"Oh? What's the matter? Afraid of this?" taunted Dominic. Crow,Rogue,Bullet,and Henry quickly nodded yes while Spike refused to answer.

Dominic turned to Spike and basically gave him the most scariest grin Henry has ever seen.

"Either you leave him alone or I'll blast your brains out! Do I make myself clear!"shouted Dominic.

He was even scaring when angry (foreshadowing). Spike and his lackeys left as quickly as they could. Dominic glanced at Henry who was still trembling and he checked to make sure he's ok.

"Hey, you alright?" asked Dominic who has a surprisingly caring tone compared how to he was acting earlier. Henry looked down to see his fly was opened, how embarrassing. He zipped up his pants and nodded yes.

Dominic noticed Henry wasn't speaking and was wondering why untill an idea popped in his head.

"Hey, you alright? You seemed suprised?" signed Dominic. Henry was astonished, another person besides his parents, him, and Charles knew ASL.

"Yeah, I am ok. Thank you for helping me."  signed Henry who was smiling despite earlier not having a reason to smile.

"What exactly are you doing here at this time anyway? It's dangerous." signed Dominic with a concerned look on his face.

Henry thought for a moment, he didn't want to talk about what happened earlier. He didn't want to cry again at telling this random stranger about seeing his crush kissing someone else.

"I don't want to talk about it." replied Henry.

"Seems fair, I'm only a stranger. You know the saying stranger danger." laughed Dominic.

Henry laughed too, he went checked his phone to see it was 11:55 p.m. Oh no! It's late! he thought.

"I have to go it's almost midnight." said Henry. Dominic also checked his phone and see that Henry was right.

"Why don't I walk you home so you can be safe and I can protect you?" asked Dominic with a smile on his face. Henry mulled it over and he did seemed like a nice guy...He finally agreed. They both headed to Henry's apartment and said their goodbyes but not without getting each other's phone numbers.

Once Dominic left, Henry felt happier. He didn't understand why but he's hoping he will have a wonderful relationship with Dominic.

Only if he knew...

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Bees and Sunbeams

Santiago ‘Pope” Garcia x Estranged Wife!reader

So this might be a two parter. Not sure just yet. But this is a bit angsty. Alludes to something traumatic but I don’t specify what it is. Title is from a Henry David Thoreau quote. Santi being an idiot. Frankie being adorable with his baby.

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia was a complicated man. He spent 3 years in Colombia chasing down a drug cartel. Some would say that that was honorable. If they knew the truth however…

He went to Colombia for another reason. He was running from his marriage. He loved his wife, he truly did, but she was never quite the same after…

Even now, he couldn’t even think of the word. Didn’t want to admit that he essentially abandoned her when she needed him most.

After everything that happened with his team, he couldn’t even gather the courage to go home to her. He’s been crashing on Frankie’s couch. Santi was sure, absolutely sure, that all that was waiting for him at home was divorce papers.

He thought over thing that he said to her, when he last saw her, wincing at how harsh he was.

*Flashback*

It was the day before he left for Colombia. He was packing his bag up, and she stood leaning in the doorway watching him.

“I just… I don’t understand why you are going alone? I could meet up with you in a couple of weeks? We could… find a little home there? It’s not a problem for me to work remotely,” She bargained with him, biting her lip.

“I’ve told you no. You are staying here. I don’t need your help, I just need to be away for a while,” He responded, frustration lacing his tone.

“’You need to be away.’ Feels like you’ve been away for some time already honey. I mean… I’m not the one who has been sleeping on the couch or cringing at my touch. I’m not the one who barely talks anymore nor am I the one whose been spending most of my free time at the bar,” She threw out at him, her voice breaking.

“What do you want from me? Huh? What? What do you want me to say?” Santi asked throwing the shirt in his hand down onto his bag, his hands resting on his hips.

“Are you cheating on me? Is that… is that why you want to go to Colombia on your own? To go back to your old routine of finding beautiful informants?” She questioned looking away from him.

“Yes. I’m going to Colombia to be with beautiful women, who don’t nag at me or drive me crazy,” He responded sarcastically.

She didn’t quite pick up on the sarcasm, flinching away from him. She simply nodded her head and walked away.

He wanted to call her back and tell her he didn’t mean it. But he was too blinded by rage and pain to fully think at that point. He just gathered his bags, and left, wanting to stay the night at a hotel, rather than risk another argument.

*End*

He had been at Frankie’s for about a week at this point, and he knew Frankie wanted him to man up and go home. He was just so afraid of what he was going to find if he went back.

Frankie sighed as he woke up to go tend to his daughter who was loudly informing him, that she was awake, and needed to be changed.

“Hello my princesa. Good morning mi vida. I know. I’m working on it,” Frankie cooed to her as he picked her up, to set her on the changing table.

He quickly got her a fresh diaper, and as he stared at her, he said, “Tio Santi is a bit of an idiot. Should we pry?” She giggled in response “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He picked up his phone and hit the facetime button next to Y/N. The phone rang a few times, before it picked up and her face appeared.

“Hi my sweet girl. Good morning. What’s up Frankie?” She asked after greeting his daughter.

“Can you come over real quick, me and Sophia want to go to store sans baby? Not that I don’t love her, but it’s easier than having to drag the stroller out,” Frankie requested, thinking quickly.

“Sure. I’ll be over in 20 mins,” She answered with a smile.

“Great. See ya in a bit,” Frankie hung up.

“Frankie. What are you doing?” Came Sophia’s making him jump slightly.

“Nothing. Let’s get dressed yeah?” Frankie said changing the subject making his way to their bedroom to dress.

A few minutes later, they were all dressed, and he was bouncing Isobel up and down, smiling at the happy giggles that came from her.

A knock on the door alerted him that his company had arrived and that a warpath had been created.

Sophia opened the door, and led her in. As soon as she stepped into the living room she stopped in her tracks as she looked at Santi.

Her face… was blank. She simply looked at Frankie with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, look at the time, Sophia. We should go to the store or something. Ya know. You two should stay here and talk things out, and I will deal with the pain in the ass that’s the stroller, shall we my girls?” Frankie suggested loudly, grabbing Sophia and walking out with the both of them.

Santi stared at his wife with wide eyes. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see her. His eyes gave her a once over and admired her curves. He didn’t think it was possible for her to look more beautiful.

“Hey Bee,” He said quietly, referring to her nickname.

Her nose twitched in response and she crossed her arms, looking down.

“That’s… that’s a nice dress. Is it new?” He awkwardly began, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah. It is. Bought it couple of months ago, along with some other stuff that were meant for my husband’s eyes only, but. It appears that he must have died out in the middle of a jungle, since I haven’t heard from in 3 years. Shame. He was so pretty,” She scoffed, glaring at him.

He winced, “Okay. I deserved that.”

They both shifted awkwardly.

She made her way into the kitchen, grabbing a beer, and popping the lid off.

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” Santi asked concerned as he followed her.

“Shouldn’t you be out with one of your informants?” She threw back taking a large gulp.

“Baby. Can you please… just hear me out? Just… let me talk for 5 minutes. Then you can leave, or hit me or whatever,” Santi pleaded placing his hands on the island, staring at her softly.

“Go,” She said, gesturing for him to hurry up.

“I didn’t… I didn’t cheat on you. Either before I left or after. Yes, I had female informants, but I never… I never did anything with them, despite popular belief,” He started with a sigh.

“After… after everything happened… you were so. Different. So, hurt and in pain. Anytime I tried to help you, you pushed me away. So, I stayed away. When I got the offer to go to Colombia… I figured it would only be a couple of months. Enough time for the both of us to heal. Then we had that stupid argument where, I ruined everything,” He continued struggling to get the words out.

“I just… I figured you were better off without me… so I stayed. I ran from you. And I regret it so much honey,” Santi finished softly, not making eye contact. “Plus… I didn’t want you to see the monster I had become while I was over there.”

The silence was deafening after that. It was several minutes before she finally responded.

“I could never see you as a monster. I love you. Yeah, it took me some time to heal, but when I finally was getting better, all I wanted was my husband and all you seemed to want was a get out of jail free card,” She replied with a sniffle.

“I’m sorry. That was never my intention,” He apologized his hand hesitantly reaching out to touch the one that she was leaning on.

She allowed it and wanted to cry as he held it softly.

“How long have you been home?” She quietly asked.

“About a week. I was… I was afraid that if I came home, that I would be served with divorce papers. Afraid that I would return home to an empty house,” He admitted with a sigh.

“I’ll admit… I thought about it. Even had them drawn up after a year. Hell, I even tried to move on. Thought about going on a couple of dates, but…. Wound up not going through with them,” She confessed, fiddling with the beer bottle now.

“That’s… that’s fair. What… what made you not go through with them?” He asked curious.

She looked up at him, her eyes catching his, “They weren’t you, baby.”

He looked up at the ceiling, biting his lip, trying to control himself.

“Did you... uh... did you just quote Indiana Jones at me?” He questioned trying to not laugh.

“A little. Was it that bad?” She inquired with an awkward smile.

He shook his head, as he slowly came around to her side of the island. She followed him with her eyes, turning around as he came up to her. His hand reached up to brush an errant hair out of the way.

“Do you still want that divorce?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“No. I just want my husband home, safe and in my arms,” She answered with a small smile.

“I think I can do that. I know I have… I know I have a great deal to make up to you. A full 3 years’ worth. If you need space at any time or want to set up rules or whatever, then let me know. I’ll do whatever I need to, to earn your trust again,” Santi promised her as he rested his forehead against hers.

She whispered an okay as she reached out to place her hands on his chest. He braced himself, preparing for her to push him away. He was pleasantly surprised when she instead wrapped them around his back, pulling him into her embrace.

He took a heavy sigh of relief as he returned her hug, pressing kisses to her head.

“First on the agenda, can we go take a nap? I had an all-nighter and I’m really tired,” She mumbled into his chest, as a yawn slipped out.

He nodded his head and led her over to the couch. He laid down on the couch first, and she gestured for him to shift on his side. He does so, and she lays in front of him. His arms curl around her, spooning her to him. Her hands held the one resting on top of her close to her chest.

They soon fell asleep at they got comfortable.

An hour later, the Morales trio walked up to their home hesitantly.

“Don’t hear screaming, nor do I see cops, so unless she murdered him quietly, I don’t know what we are about to walk into,” Frankie warned as he opened the door.

As they stepped in, Frankie sighed happily as the sight of his best friend and his wife, asleep on the couch. Sophia swooned softly, and Isobel just saw her two other favorite people and yelled happily.

At her shout, they both jerked awake, blinking rapidly.

Bee quickly got up, stumbling slightly, and made her way over to them. “Hi! I know, I didn’t get a chance to hold you earlier. Lemme make it up to you.”

She gently took Isobel from Sophia, and Isobel instantly began babbling away to her. Bee nodded her head and would respond back to her.

“Let’s go get your Tio, yeah? Would you like that? I bet you would, you love your Tio,” She said in a silly voice.

Santiago shook his head but took her from Bee as Isobel made grabby hands to him. He began to speak to her in Spanish, telling her how she’s the best goddaughter in the world.

Sophia then asked if Bee would help her unload the groceries, as Frankie made his way over to Santi.

Once they were out of earshot, Frankie guessed, “So. You two made up finally?”

“Yeah. We’re uhh. Going to go slowly, or at whatever pace she sets. But good news is, I’ll be off your couch by end of day. I’ve….. I missed her. More than I care to admit, because its… embarrassing to be honest,” He explained as Isobel tried standing on his legs, holding onto nothing but his hands.

“Good. I’m glad. Does she… does she know about what happened with Tom and everything?” Frankie quietly asked.

“Not yet. I’ll explain that when we get home. That’s going to be fun explaining,” He replied as he made Isobel sit down, after she almost fell off his lap.

Isobel made a displeased noise at him and turned to pout at her daddy.

“Oh? Tio Santi didn’t let you fall like a dummy, so now you want my attention?” He playfully asked as he took her from allowing Santi to stand up.

Santiago then quickly packed up his things. He didn’t have much in the house, most of his stuff was in the truck. He felt like he was invading their space enough as it is without all of his stuff piled up in a corner.

As he finished grabbing everything, Sophia and Bee walked in with the last of the groceries and were setting them down in the kitchen.

As soon as they had put away the groceries, Santi brought his things out to the truck, setting them in the back seat.

“Got room for one more, handsome?” Came Bee’s voice as she joined him by his truck.

He looked around and noticed her car wasn’t there, so she had walked over.

“Yeah. Think I do. I wish you wouldn’t walk everywhere though baby,” Santi voiced as he walked over to open the passenger door for her.

“I like the feel of the sun, and buzzing of the bees,” She replied as she made to step in.

She stopped, her foot on the frame, poised for her to hop in. She turned to him really quick and pressed a kiss to his lips. She ended it just as quickly as she began it, jumping into the truck. He looked at her stunned, a smile growing on his face. He shut the door and made his way to the driver’s side.

She glanced at the middle seat as he started up the truck, biting her lip. She then slid over to it, not looking at him as he glanced at her. She simply buckled herself in, and then as he put the truck in motion, she reached over and laced her hand with the one resting on his lap.

He lifted their joined hands and press a small kiss to the back of hers. He stopped to get them food at one of their favorite places, and as he pulled up to the house, he turned the truck off. He looked over at her, gazing at her lovingly.

She smiled at him, and he leaned down to capture her lips into a kiss. He gently cupped her cheek as they kissed. They pulled away after a moment, trying to catch their breaths.

“C’mon. Let’s get inside. You have some making up to do as I recall? And I’m hungry,” She flirted as she pulled away, snatching the food and rushing out.

He grabbed the drinks before catching up to her. They stepped inside and as she moved to set the food on the table he took in the site before him. The one place he thought he would never see again:

Home.

[binickandros]

(same anon from the start of this discussion) i love how in depth you got with the answer!! and i 100% agree with you now. of course i would never want 2020!nick and 2020!tom to be exactly like book!nick and book!tom. king's representation of disabilities was already outdated at the time. i just think they should've had the same importance to the plot as they do originally, and tbf, imo they have one of the best dynamics in fiction, which could be deeply explored. i do give the writers some (very very little) credit for kinda making it less ableist (like having nick sign), but they did so wrong from the start (hiring a hearing actor) that everything kinda went downhill from there. and also, nick and tom are not the only inappropriately represented dynamic, like where the hell did stu/fran come from?? how about some more stu&glen?? they made frannie know ASL, wouldn't it make her dynamic with nick more interesting?? idk i'm not very coherent right now. i just loved your answer and had to keep the conversation going lol (and im tired of talking about harold 😔)

Right, I mean it’s an adaptation, so making changes (especially updates) on a 42-year-old work is perfectly fine. Even accepted. Esp with Nick bc p much everything happens inside his head. We’ve gotta make some changes so we know what’s going on with him, what he’s thinking, etc. But that’s the challenge of any book-to-screen adaptation, and if you aren’t prepared to tackle that, you shouldn’t do it! Anyway once again I have a lot to say...

I liked that at least someone knew ASL, but it was so obvious that 1) Henry Zaga can hear and 2) they had no one on set who was deaf or HOH. The scene where the committee is deciding to send spies is the worst example. First of all, Glen, who’s leading the discussion, is BEHIND Nick. So Nick doesn’t catch a single word of what he’s saying. Secondly, at one point Nick got up and walked away, with his back to the room. So he missed that entire exchange. If I remember correctly, Larry was sort of behind Nick too. Or maybe in front of him w his back to him? Either way, seated so that Nick couldn’t read his lips. I kept pausing to bitch about it to my mom bc it was so gd annoying.

Obvs Rob Lowe is a hearing actor as well, but he made an effort to like turn ppl’s faces toward him or crane his neck to try to see their faces. He actively tried to follow conversations the way a deaf lipreader might. Some of that could be Henry Zaga’s choices, but a director’s job is to direct, and a writer’s job is to include (at least some) stage direction.

I know that Frannie wasn’t meant to be fluent in ASL, but the fact that she translated what she was saying, but not what anyone else was saying, bugged tf outta me. Also just how Henry Zaga and Odessa Young signed! ASL (all forms of sign language, but that’s the one we’re talking about here) is a 3D language: it’s not just the signs themselves, but also facial expressions and body language. That’s why you can’t directly translate ASL into written English (along w syntax, but that’s outside the scope of this convo), but instead have to “interpret” what’s being signed into written language.

Like I’m very glad they chose to have Nick signing, but just like everything else w him, they didn’t put much effort into it. Part of that could be put on the actor (I have no idea what prep work he did for the role), but like...just based on everything we see onscreen, I seriously doubt he was encouraged to do more than just “learn the signs for these words.”

When they first announced the casting for Fran I was concerned just bc of how much younger than James Marsden Odessa Young is. I think they meant Stu to be a bit younger than James, like maybe late 30s, but...idk she looked like his daughter to me. They didn’t have any romantic chemistry, and the fact that we got no backstory as to how they fell for each other just made that worse. I’m not criticizing Odessa Young here; the poor thing was given nothing to do besides sit around looking wan and pregnant; but like I mentioned in another ask, what do these 2 ppl have in common?! Who knows, bc we literally know nothing about either of them, except that Frannie’s pregnant and Stu’s a widower.

And, yeah, I would’ve loved more Stu and Glen. I’m iffy on how they characterized Glen in some ways. Like when I heard the casting for that I was a hard NO, partially bc Greg Kinnear isn’t old enough, but then they changed the character so that the casting choice worked...I’m just not sure if the character changes worked for me, personally. I did like his death scene better in this one, though. And that he actually got through to Lloyd.

Like we all keep bitching about Nick, bc that was the worst example, but ALL of the “good” characters were seriously under-served here. Where were the prophetic dreams? Where were the groups coming together out on the road? Where were any scenes of them bonding or getting to know each other in Boulder?

I was literally just telling a friend (in the middle of typing this answer) that I think sometimes when people adapt horror (I’m looking at YOU, Kubrik, bc yes The Shining is a gr8 movie, but it’s a dreadful adaptation) they think “it’s horror it’s gotta be scary” and forget that a lot of what makes the best horror is characters. Genre fiction is criticized for being too plot-driven, as opposed to literary fiction being character-driven, and while DUH obviously the plot is hugely important in a novel like The Stand, would you actually give that much of a fuck what happens if you didn’t care about the people involved?

Nick’s death carried so little weight bc they’d diminished the character to a shadow of himself, so it was just like “oh that cute boy with the eye patch died, how sad.” Unlike when I saw the 94 miniseries (before I read the book), and I was screaming at my TV. For all that I can bitch about Game of Thrones (and I can. a lot.), D&D at least knew in the first few seasons to make Ned a character you cared about, make Robb a character you cared about, so that their deaths were as hugely shocking and tragic as in the books.

Am I saying The Stand failed worse than Game of Thrones?! Idk. That’s...saying a lot...I’ll think about it and get back to you. Game of Thrones failed so much more often, and for so many more years...

[crystu-cii]

Oh wow XDD oms XD

YESSS-- (MINE ARE TECHNICALLY GREY AND WHITE BUT IT DOESNT MATTER XD) NICEEE-- XDD Yeah, my old school did but when I moved from Japan my new school didn't allow them ;w; (puts them on bc comfort item time)

Oms XDD Nice-

Oms XD YOUR FRIEND IS ALSO A HEATHEN /J HIS NAME IS FELIX WHITE IN-GAME-- (I MAYHAPS ONLY KNOW THIS BC A. I LIKE MINOR CHARACTERS AND B. WHITEMIN IS A SHIP-)

Oms XDD the serving question I- mood-- XD

Yessss!!! I will not change your mind you are correct!! Why do you think most of my sonas have animal features XDD

THOSE SOUND SO NEAT-- SOFT CUTE AESTHETIC? BOBA DRINKS?? INCORPORATING PERSONAL FOND MEMORIES INTO THE STORY??? THAT SOUNDS WONDERFULLY SOFT,,,,, and high school aus are always fun XD you could call it a school au(with anime high school vibes) if you wanted? XD or just "anime hs vibes" XD ooh a kpop au?? Like with characters as kpop singers??

I hope my answers suffice I'm kinda tired and anxious(my sister's cat attacked my foot and I was bleeding a decent bit and have decided I most definitely prefer dogs.... cats give me severe anxiety and apparently hate me or something(this cat in particular attacks and stalks me a bunch..) so nope- (sorry that was long-))

YEAHHH WOLF EARS LESS GOO- but awww jApAN WHY-

AND YEAHH LEGIT LIKE WUFJIWJ- but i guess i dont blame him for knowing the characters- he doesnt even know that charles dies in one of the endings- xDDD and he is confused on why tf i love reginald and right hand man so much- XDD

and YESS omg- literally three out of four of my main OCs have cat ears- two of them have real ones while the other has fake- XDD i dunno- whenever i draw a character without animals ears it looks uNcoMplETe

AND HELL YEAHHHH i think its absolutelY GREATTT- and omg- okay so me and the filipino trio all have these pom pom headbands and as well as flower crowns- all of them a different color for each of us- so i put that trait along with triple threat and i think its AMAZING- if i had the motivation to continue it one night- im going to write charles giving right hand man and reginald flower crowns so they fit in- its going to be all so wholesome XDD

and ohh yeahhh i could just call it school au :O oh and also the fanfic i wrote for it- it was the first time i ever wrote henry doing asl and it ROCKEDDD- i also made reginald as a teacher and rhm as teacher's assistant- that wasnt even intentional it came to mind xD but itS AWESOME- (and also uhhh i think i am going to make that au a uhhhh harem for henrY- hAHa WHOOPS--)

AND AJHFKSJFOAB YEAH- THATS EXACTLY- omg- okaooaik i jam and dance to music so damn much daily that i tend to replace the music with characters of any fandom i was in in that time in any way possible (and ofc- right now is THSC)- kpop songs give me a lot of oppurunity xD- it would also motivate me to learn the dance just so 1. i can dance it- TWOOO. I CAN IMAGINE THE CHARACTERS DANCING IT- XDD either that or i can pretend the characters are like how the kpop idols were in the Music Video- im a blink- so i replaced a lot of BLACKPINK songs with characters- xD

but my favorite right now- is replacing Dynamite by BTS- LIKE- AAHHHHH- i thought that would be so cute of all of them just singing and being happyyyy ;0;; 💞💞💞 if i ever make a fanfic sOmeHow- it will also include a lot of bonding itll be great xDD

and oh NOO im so sorry that happened ;0; awww i wish your sister's cat wasn't like that, i hope you are okay now though! dont worry about it being long, feel free to talk as much as you want! 💞💞💞💞😭😭❤

[hollenka99]

TLoJJ-Hamilton parallels

Since I have mentioned there being parallels before, I think it’s high time to actually put them down.

That Would Be Enough - William and Florence Jackson when they discover they are going to be parents. William was a labourer in a factory responsible for shipbuilding while Florence was an educated woman from a family of comfortable wealth. They would definitely struggle to financially support a child. Obviously, you’re probably aware that Harvey and the rest of their future children grew up in poverty. c. 1879

Dear Theodosia - Jameson with his kids. But I guess in this instance, Anthony specifically. Dude was constantly swearing he would do everything he could to ensure his children didn’t grow up like he did. 1912 onwards

Laurens’ Lament - Siobhan announcing Harvey’s death. Just like Alexander, Jameson probably would have gone ‘Thanks. Do you mind leaving me alone for a while?’ 1917

(First) Burn - While Jameson never cheated on Siobhan, he did also put his family through a period where their reputation/image suffered because of his actions. Siobhan did her best to be understanding but for a couple years following Harvey’s death, Jameson did become a colder person and more irrational in his creative decisions. At times, she did become fed up with him and probably went off on him. Also, just like Eliza was around the time of the Reynolds Pamphlet being written and published, Siobhan was pregnant during this time. Twice, actually. c. 1917-1920

Congratulations - I can see Mabel in Angelica’s position where she is calling her little brother the hell out while he goes off the rails after Harvey died. I always liked Mabel because she tended to be even more level headed than her siblings. c. late 1910s

Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story - Siobhan continued Jameson’s work with Thaddaeus House after his death. Even added on to that work by campaigning for ASL to become a language taught at school and establishing a couple of centres in New York and Los Angeles for people to learn ASL. Lived another 52 years following her husband’s death. 1932 onwards

Blow Us All Away - Henry and Theodore honestly had a good futures in front of them in medicine and finance respectively. And then the US entered WW2, leading to Theodore getting drafted then ultimately their deaths. That bit where Alexander gives Philip his gun while advising him to be careful? Yeah, nobody in the Jackson family would have been okay with the brothers heading to Europe. The closest it would get to that scene is Henry kinda relenting and choosing to join his brother in an attempt to keep him safe. c. late 1930s-1944

Satisfied - What are you going to do when you’re a young gay man in love with your childhood friend at the turn of the ‘40s? Encourage him to be happy with your sister, of course. As a good friend of the groom and brother of the bride, Oliver was the best man at Winston and Sophia’s wedding. That day was a rough one for him. c. early 1940s

[dictionarywrites]

Brought To Justice: Chapter 4

Odin gives Loki a choice when he is brought back to Asgard: imprisonment, or execution. When Loki chooses the latter, Odin increases his punishment twofold, and Loki is sent back to Midgard in order to repay his debt. Bound by his own magic and forced to obey whatever order Steve Rogers lays out for him, Loki is forced to attempt a redemption he neither wants nor deserves.

Ao3 link. Steve Rogers/Loki. Slowburn. 25k. Rated M. WIP.

Send requests. Tip jar.

June 3rd, 2012

“C’mere,” Tony murmurs, and Pepper leans in, smiling as she leans her hands against the table between them, her breath warm and scented with coffee where she puts her mouth over his. Pepper kisses him, and Tony tastes the caramel shot she took in her drink, cupping her cheek and smiling at her with all the warmth in the world. It’s a great morning, the sun shining brightly in through the window, and in front of him Tony has a spread of folders, all focused on the Avengers Initiative.

SHIELD has been into him today, with Fury talking to him about taking over the Initiative from SHIELD… Fury had been more than reluctant to let Tony just take up the Initiative for the team, but with Steve pushing it through, it’s down to him, now.

And Coulson…

He’d sent flowers to the cellist, offered to fly her in, but she’d said no. Poor girl.

“How’s business?” Tony asks, his hands on Pepper’s hips, and she smiles at him, her lips plump and glossy. She’s using some kind of new stuff – gloss, lipstick, Tony doesn’t know – and it makes her even more beautiful than usual.

“How’s heroism?” she replies, and Tony groans, gesturing to the folders.

“It’s a lot like business.” Pepper laughs, patting his cheek and taking up her own spread of folders, her coffee in her hand. “You got meetings?”

“Until four. How about you?”

“I’m driving out to X-Mansion today, probably gonna take the wunderkind with me. And I think Clint and Nat are coming, too,” Tony murmurs, running his palm over his beard as he thinks about it. Pepper frowns, tilting her head slightly.

“Clint and Nat? Why?”

“I think ‘cause there’s space in the car,” Tony says, and Pepper lets out a short, huffed laugh before he continues, “I dunno. They’re kinda up in the air at the moment – they don’t want to take their normal jobs ‘cause they’re both into the routine of the Avengers thing, I think. Neither of ‘em has ever been part of a team like this one before, and they’re excited to get into it.”

“That’s good,” Pepper says, and Tony nods his head, slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, it is. I’m just worried about two hours in a car with Loki on one side and them on the other.”

“He’s not going to say anything,” Pepper murmurs, and Tony sighs.

“It’s the silence I’m dreading.” Pepper pats his shoulder, leans and presses a kiss to his head, and then she walks away, running to catch her eight o’clock. Tony sighs, pushing his meeting notes together, and he glances at his phone.

Henry McCoy, 07:25 Mr Stark, you’re new to running a heroes team. Please, don’t worry about the meeting at all – we’ll talk you through it and get you up to speed, and we even have some resources from older iterations of the Avengers. None of us is expecting you to have the whole world planned to the letter.

They’re not expecting to see Loki exactly either, Tony thinks, but hey. Coming from a guy who’s worked on and off with Magneto, Loki almost seems like a walk in the park.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“So you can speak any language, pretty much ever, and read any language, but you can’t sign?” Barton demands, and Loki stares at him from the other side of the limousine. Why, precisely, Stark insisted on this method of travel, Loki is uncertain – it strikes him as mildly obscene, particularly when they’re going to a boarding school of all places, but then, Loki doubts Stark has spent much time in a normal automobile.

“Why would I be able to speak any Midgardian sign languages?” Loki asks, arching his eyebrows. “It’s called the Allspeak, Mr Barton, not the Allsign.” All of them are rather dressed up for this occasion: Romanov wears a black dress that clings to the lines of her waist and chest, accentuating an easy hourglass figure; Stark wears a pressed suit, and Barton wears a purple shirt that has a collar and everything. Loki hadn’t known the man had it in him. Loki himself wears a lilac shirt tucked into white trousers, a floral tie around his neck, and Stark had groaned when he had seen the outfit, but then complimented Loki thrice, so he would guess it’s fine enough.

“Yeah, but if it’s magic—”

“What about languages with clicks and whistles?” Romanov breaks in.

“They translate just fine. Some words don’t, of course – words for specific fruits or vegetables, materials, et cetera. But the Allspeak… It translates the meaning more so than it rewrites the words as I’m hearing them. When I hear any of you speak, I hear English, but the meaning is translated in my own head, I suppose. Which means I can still be aware of connotations, names, et cetera – it’s a sort of telepathic magic. If someone talks about, say, finar in the Fon System, even though I’m not familiar with finar itself, I would get the impression of the scent, the sight, of the grain.”

“If that’s the case, then you should be able to understand sign languages just fine,” Romanov says, slowly. “Loads of languages include gestures as part of them, and if it’s a telepathic element, an impression, then sign language should be no different.”

Loki brings his index finger up to his chin, then brings it outward: True.

Barton nearly yells, burying his face in his hands and letting out a garbled sound of frustration, and when Loki grins, he shows all of his teeth, laughing. Romanov is shaking her head, letting out short chuckles, and Loki glances to Stark. Stark is looking between the three of him, his lips quirked into a smile between his obscene patches of sculpted facial hair.

“You spoke ASL this whole time, huh?”

“It’s called the Allspeak,” Loki says, not unreasonably, and Barton groans incoherently in his direction. Loki had been worried the journey would be much more uncomfortable than it is, but Romanov has been making polite, measured conversation with Loki, and it is Barton that has brought the levity in the situation with his humorous over-reactions.

“Why do you lie?” Barton demands. “There’s no reason to! We don’t speak sign language in front of you anyway, so we wouldn’t risk it – there was nothing to gain! You just, you just lied, for no reason!”

“I didn’t lie for no reason,” Loki replies. “I lied so you could enjoy unravelling my deception. Through logic alone.”

“But that’s— Why that? We could just play a game!” Loki clucks his tongue, disapproving, and Barton looks askance to Romanov, now speechless, but Romanov just smiles, shoving the archer in the side.

“I don’t play games.” Loki leans back in his seat, turning to look at Stark once more, and Stark leans in toward him.

“Here,” he says, holding something out, and Loki takes it, staring down at it. It’s a mobile telephone, much like Stark’s own, and Loki stares down at his reflection in the polished, black glass. “So your cell number is on the card stuck to the back, and this is yours now. It’s charged, and I’ll give you the charger when you’re back at the building – it’s a pretty standard smartphone, texting, calls, internet, camera. I think you should start an Instagram or something.”

“Instagram?” Loki repeats, and he frowns, staring at the screen. “Mr Stark, that hardly seems very secretive.”

“Well, we’re ironing out your paperwork now. Soon, SWORD is gonna give you your alien-on-earth papers, and you’re gonna be a real, fake citizen of the US of A. Besides, Loki,” Stark murmurs quietly, “It’ll look better if you’re… You know. Integrating. It’s great to do like, Wikipedia stuff—”

“So many of the articles are so badly written—”

“It’s a community encyclopaedia, your highness, I don’t know what you expect,” Stark says, shaking his hand for Loki to close his mouth, and Loki does, feeling the weight of the phone in his hand. “But you know, even just Facebook, or Twitter… Shit, even if you made some kinda weird blogging site or something.”

“If there’s some sort of injunction,” Loki murmurs, holding the phone in his hand, “You want there to be tangible, documentable proof that I’m accepting my place on Earth.” It makes complete sense to Loki, and yet the social media of Earth… It is not something he is entirely comfortable focusing upon, not something he thinks he would be naturally inclined to. Perhaps merely something private – that is an option, isn’t it?

“Exactly. It’s not an order – me and Steve talked about it, and we’re not gonna like, make you do social media or anything. Hell, Cap won’t even let me give him a phone yet. But you need to make some kinda presence. Loki, there’s a reason we’re taking you with us to the Mansion – people are gonna find out eventually that you’re one of us now, and we can’t really risk trying to keep it a secret.” Loki draws his thumb over the phone’s smooth, cool touch screen, and he looks at the screen that comes up.

“I’m going to have to take this apart,” Loki murmurs. “Make some improvements.”

“I slaved over that phone for you, Loki—”

“Interesting choice of words.” Stark’s eyes widen, his lips parting for a second, and Loki smiles before pointing out, “I did it to the laptop.” Something changes in Stark’s expression, some sort of irritation bubbling to the top – he doesn’t like the implication that he may not be the most competent engineer in the room, Loki thinks, and it might amuse him were it not so patronising.

“You took my laptop apart?” Stark asks, lowly, and Loki raises his eyebrows.

“You said it was my laptop,” he says mildly, and Stark presses his lips together, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning away from him.

“Look, Loki, no offence, but you’re not exactly an engineer. You can’t—” Loki turns away from Stark, looking to Romanov and Barton. He meets Romanov’s gaze, looking into her deep eyes.

“Is this mansplaining?” Loki asks. Beside him, Stark splutters, irritated and indignant, but Romanov just slowly nods her head. The limousine comes to a stop, revealing the open grounds of the manor, and Loki reaches for the door, sliding out. “Read my file, Stark,” Loki advises, and he holds the door open for Barton and Romanov.

It is a beautiful summer’s day, shining down upon the green grasses and the gravel road, and when Loki looks up to the windows of the mansion, he can see that the children who are meant to be in their classes are all pressed up, looking down to see what the visitors might possibly be here for.

When Stark exits the vehicle, many of them get very excited indeed, hopping up and down, and Loki smiles slightly, pushing the limousine closed. There are a group of people gathered before the doors of the house: Charles Xavier, Ororo Munroe, Henry McCoy and Scott Summers. Loki recognizes them all, at a glance.

“Professor Xavier,” Stark says, taking a few steps toward the house’s doors, and Xavier, an older gentleman in a wheelchair, shakes Stark’s hand. Loki has read about him and these marvellous X-Men, of course, and he looks at Xavier where he sits in his wheelchair, looking anything but infirm. His eyes are alight with intelligence, and Loki is almost wary to come forward and shake the man’s hand himself, so he hangs back as Romanov and Barton step up, with Stark introducing them. “What, you shy?”

“No,” Loki says, and he steps forward, coming away from the car and coming closer. As he does, he can see the beast-like blue figure’s yellow eyes widen, see Munroe’s expression turn cold, but Xavier’s remains quietly paternal, a slight smile on his face.

“Loki, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, Professor Xavier,” Loki says politely, putting out his hand to shake: the others make no movement to reach for his hand as they did for the others, but Loki says nothing.

“How are you settling in?” Loki can feel the impact of his telepathic energy against his magic. I wouldn’t advise that, Loki presses onto the air itself, and Xavier’s lips quirk into a deeper smile, his old face a map of wrinkles, showing the years that have passed him by. The depths of Loki’s mind are not easy for telepaths to grasp at, as a rule, so full to the brim are the banks of Loki’s memories, so strongly felt are his emotions, and he feels Xavier draw back.

Wouldn’t you? he replies.

“Quite well, thank you,” Loki says aloud. “Of course, I have a debt to repay.”

“You’re damned right,” says Summers, and Loki looks at him. The sun shines off the plastic-rimmed glasses he wears over his dangerous gaze, as Medusa with her bloodied blindfold, and Loki smiles, wanly, before giving a polite bow.

The others begin to make their way inside, Xavier moving up the ramp at the side of the trio of steps as the others move up into the house, but McCoy remains. He steps forward, and he puts out his right hand to shake: the hand is brightly blue, the palm rubbery and soft, and the back of his hand is thick with fur. Loki takes it, surprised, and shakes it well. McCoy’s hand is warm, surprisingly so, but Loki’s impassive expression as he surveys McCoy’s waistcoat and patterned trousers must unsettle him somewhat.

“What? Never seen a man like me before?” Loki looks at him for a long few moments, then allows the glamour over his skin to fall. Of course, he keeps the eternal masking over the scars on his mouth, his eyes, and around his neck, but he feels the tingle over his flesh as his skin turns as blue as McCoy’s own, showing the rough indentations on his skin, the redness of his eyes.

“I’ve seen something like him,” Loki replies, aware that his Jötunn voice has a breathier, raspier element to it, as the tongue itself is longer than that of the Æsir, and thicker. McCoy’s yellow eyes flit downward, taking Loki in from head to foot, and then he smiles, genuinely. He has sharp teeth, Loki can see, feline in their make-up.

“Welcome,” McCoy murmurs, nodding toward the steps, and Loki falls into step beside him. McCoy does not wear shoes, instead leaving his fur-covered, hand-like feet to tread upon the ground. As feline as McCoy’s face is, his hands and feet resemble – in shape – the chimpanzee, and Loki notes this with curiosity, resisting the natural urge to reach out with his magic and feel for McCoy’s biology. “Stark didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“This is something of a trial run, if my information is correct,” Loki murmurs, walking alongside McCoy into the house. “My… Service to the Avengers is not yet public knowledge.” A few children pass them by, peering up at Loki and McCoy with evident curiosity, but none of them stop to speak, and of course, none of them recognizes Loki.

“The people are going to hate it,” McCoy says outright, turning left and coming down a corridor, and Loki nods his head, slowly. “What was it? Mind control? Debt? Villainy?” Loki inhales, slowly, and then says,

“Desperation.” McCoy hums.

“Yes, that’ll about do it,” he says. The man has a pleasant voice, sounding like a kindly, American academic, and Loki doesn’t say anything when he realises they are going down corridors they oughtn’t – when he realises the others are on the other side of mansion, some way away. McCoy leads him down a set of stairs, then opens the door inward, revealing… Quarters.

Loki glances about the humble living room, and when McCoy gestures for him to take a seat at the dining table, Loki does. There are windows allowing in bright light despite the fact that this level of the mansion is subterranean, and when McCoy holds up a kettle, Loki nods his head to the offer of coffee.

“You know why you’re here?” McCoy asks, lowly, as he presses the mug toward Loki’s hands. He knows, instinctively perhaps, that Loki doesn’t take sugar or milk, or perhaps he simply doesn’t care.

“You don’t want me near the children,” Loki murmurs. “I understand. I didn’t realize Stark hadn’t told you until I exited his ridiculous limousine.” He brings the steaming brew up to his lips, and he feels it settle on his tongue, bitter and dark. It’s a rich blend, Moroccan in its origin, and he lets out a quiet sigh. He doesn’t often drink coffee, unwilling to allow himself the treat every day as many of the Avengers seem to – the caffeine content is simply not something Loki is used to, and he prefers to stay away from even the mildest of chemical imbalances.

(“I didn’t realise you were gonna be so… Fastidious,” Rogers had said, paging through the list Barton had compiled of things Loki refused to eat, and Loki had stood there, embarrassed, until he realised every refusal was being taken into account, and added to a file to keep him from being served that which he wouldn’t eat.

“So you’ve said before,” Loki had replied. He had known not what else to say.)

“You have children?” McCoy asks, and Loki inclines his head. It is strange, to look down at his hands and see that his fingers are blue, his fingernails hard and silver-tipped, circular markings coming down even to his wrists and the backs of his hands.

“I used to,” he says. “You’ve read the mythology, I take it, Doctor McCoy?”

“We read all sorts to the children here,” McCoy answers, finally settling down at the table himself, and he puts a set of biscuits upon the table, but all of them are sugary-sweet, and Loki politely keeps his hands to himself. “I’ve read a few versions of most of the world’s myths at this point.”

“Some of it is more correct, some of it is less so,” Loki says. “Six children. All mine. I wouldn’t hurt them, Doctor McCoy – but then, my assurances don’t mean much.”

“You know the death toll for New York, Loki?” McCoy asks.

“Thousands,” Loki murmurs.

“You feel guilty?” Loki smiles, looking at McCoy and examining him, his head tilting to the side. McCoy is a kindly gentleman, from what Loki has learned in reading about him – kind, and warm, and firm, when needs be.

“The blame is upon me, Doctor McCoy,” Loki says delicately. The coffee is hot in his throat, so strange in this skin he is ill-used to, and he feels it bubbling in his belly, at odds with the natural homeostasis of the Jötunn form. “The deaths that occurred, occurred. The horrors I caused, I have caused. This link with the Avengers… I believe Captain Rogers has called it a rehabilitation. I will do what I can.”

“You think people will forgive you?” McCoy asks.

“No,” Loki replies. “Not unless the peoples of this planet are more foolish than once I thought.” McCoy opens his mouth to go on, but there is a knock at his door, and McCoy moves to open it, standing in the doorway.

“Professor Xavier said to come get you,” says a quiet voice. “And the other guy. Who is he?”

“Thank you, Mr Jenkins,” McCoy replies mildly.

“Yeah but—”

“Goodbye, Harry,” McCoy murmurs, and he turns to look to Loki. “We should—” Loki stands, and the light bleeds from his body all at once, leaving him entirely invisible. “Oh. That is convenient.”

“I do try,” Loki replies, and he sets his mug down on the ground. McCoy touches his shoulder as he comes closer, rather surprising Loki with how comfortable he is navigating invisibility. “You believe in redemption, Doctor McCoy?”

“I’m afraid I do,” he replies quietly, and allows Loki to follow him out into the hallway.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

Tony taps his nail against the desk. He sits with Clint on his right, Natasha to his left: across the table, Scott Summers stares him down. “You wanna tell me where my guy is?”

“Henry has taken him aside,” Xavier says, quietly. “I thought we’d discuss a few things without him in the room. For example – why is he here?”

“He’s one of us now,” Tony says breezily. “What, you got a problem?”

“With someone who killed a thousand people in three days? Yeah,” Munroe says, smacking her palm against the table. “We have a problem.”

“Isn’t your guys’ whole thing about rehabilitating super villains?” Clint asks, arching his eyebrows and looking smoothly between Summers, Munroe and Xavier. “’Cause no offence, I know he doesn’t live here, but Magneto—”

“That’s complicated, and you know it,” Summers says, bitingly. Tony knows without knowing that he says it just to protect Xavier, whose lips are quirked into an infuriatingly knowing smile.

“This is complicated too,” Tony replies. Xavier looks at him for a long few moments, and Tony wonders if this, this is what telepathy feels like, if Xavier is reading his mind right now and it doesn’t feel like anything at all. “He won’t hurt anybody – he can’t. There’s, uh, a Harry Potter life debt situation kinda going on. Magic, shmagic, whatever. But Loki isn’t why we’re here: we’re here to talk about sharing resources, and mobilising teams. And I want him here, at this table, or we’re leaving right now.”

“Have one of the students collect Hank, Scott,” Xavier says mildly. “He’s in his quarters.”

“You can send a message, Prof, just—”

“Scott,” Xavier says delicately, and Summers turns on his heel, stalking from the room and out into the corridor, the door slamming behind him. Xavier wheels over to the table, leaning back in his chair to look at Tony from across the table, and he says, “We’re more than willing to share resources with you. It’s useful for there to be a network between teams. Is this new initiative still headed by SHIELD?” Tony frowns, looking between Xavier and Munroe, but both of their expressions are completely impassive, and he slowly shakes his head.

“No,” Tony says. “No, they’re not. The initiative is under my management now, and Captain Rogers is gonna lead the team in the field.” Xavier and Munroe share a small glance, and then Xavier nods, setting out a few files upon the table.

“Very well,” he says. “Let us negotiate, then.” Tony frowns, trying to put the SHIELD thing into context in his head, but it doesn’t come.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“Jesus Christ,” Clint says beside him, and Tony turns to look at Clint at first, then follows his gaze. Beside Henry McCoy, there’s a tall man with shining black hair, loosely tied at the nape of his neck, and his skin is soft blue, his eyes thick with a protective, red lens. There are even horns growing from beneath his hair, just beginning, and it isn’t until Tony’s gaze drops lower, taking in the white pants, the tie decorated with flowers, that he realises what he’s looking at – who he’s looking at.

“My apologies,” Loki says, his skin already turning back to pale white as he takes his seat beside Natasha, his hands neatly folded in his lap. “Doctor McCoy and I were bonding over our shared aesthetics.”

“Colour schemes,” Xavier says warmly, seeming full of humour. “What a thing to bond over.”

They return to negotiations, discussions. Loki remains in place, utterly silent, and doesn’t say a word for the rest of the time they’re there.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“Best that I take on the Jötunn form, whilst I am here,” Loki murmurs in Stark’s ear, and Stark turns to glance at him. Is it fear on his face, Loki wonders? Is it disgust? Throughout the discussions, Loki had remained quiet, and despite Stark’s words – that the word must get out somehow, that Loki’s status cannot remain secret, he feels vulnerable, and uncomfortable, with showing his face about children who might know to be frightened of him. It is weak of him, perhaps. Certainly, it is.

“That— That’s real?” Stark asks.

“That’s what I look like, yes,” Loki murmurs. “For a shapeshifter, Mr Stark, the reality of one’s true form is ever debatable, but that is my base form, if you will. It unnerves you… You thought the Jötnar were as the Æsir and Vanir, outwardly resembling humanity.” Loki’s illusion bleeds away once again, leaving him as what he is, with some small adjustments. “I hate to disappoint you.”

“It’s not that,” Stark murmurs. “It’s not that you look like an alien, just— You said you didn’t know you were a Jotunn, not until a few years ago. So, what, you didn’t know you looked like that?”

“Odin’s magic sealed it from my knowledge,” Loki murmurs. “I knew so much as suspected.” There is disgust on Stark’s face, now, curling his lip and twisting his nose, and he puts his hand on Loki’s shoulder: his hand is warm.

“You take whatever form you want,” he murmurs, tone firm. “And Odin— God, what a fucking monster.” He spits out the words, astounding venom crossing over his lips, and Loki finds himself staring at him for the longest few moments, astonished. Never has someone criticized Odin so freely to him, so easily – and with such language…

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and he follows Stark as they make their way into the main part of the building, taking the seats in the living room. Stark takes a seat in a winged armchair, ever needing to put across control, and Loki settles on the lefthand arm, his back straight, one ankle crossed over the other. Romanov is speaking with two younger mutants Loki recognizes not – an extremely tall man, seemingly crafted of steel, and a smaller, dark haired girl that leans against him as they speak – and Barton is speaking in rapid, easy sign with Xavier, who is nodding and speaking occasionally. Even Stark looks at home in the strange room, lazily sending a few texts before engaging McCoy in conversation, and Loki stands, quietly excusing himself before moving outside.

His hands in his pockets, Loki takes a slow, easy walk down the path of the Westchester grounds, reaching up and drawing the ribbon out of his hair, so that it settles loosely on his shoulders, brushing against his upper arms.

(“You don’t braid it,” Rogers had said. “Isn’t that a big thing, for vikings?” Loki had considered correcting him, but Rogers had a little smirk on his face, and it was plain he was jesting.

“I never liked braiding my hair,” Loki had replied. “The Jötnar don’t, you know. It is considered bad for the growth and shine of one’s hair to tie it up in knots, and they hate the idea of looking like the Æsir in any way.”

“Huh,” Rogers had murmured, and then nodded his head.)

Loki rolls the shirt sleeves up to his elbow, feeling the heat of the waning sun on his skin. They had arrived some time past one o’clock, and it is now late in the day – the traffic had been rather bad today, and he supposes it will be somewhat better on the way back… He hopes, at least. He walks at least a mile over the lightly sloping fields of green, green grass, and it feels… Freeing.

When he reaches the treeline, Loki stops, glancing over the grounds the X-Mansion is settled on, farther up the hill. Paths run off in each direction, and Loki knows there are miles upon miles of grounds for the young children to play on, and for X-Men to train upon, but he hardly wishes to explore. He had merely wished to be outside.

There is something cathartic about being out in the dying sun, feeling the evening breeze upon his skin: Loki smells summer blooms and wild fruits on the air, and the scent of freshly mowed grass is thick in his nose and upon his tongue. Being here, amongst nature, is so much more comfortable than the bustling cities of New York, and for a second – a bare second, that is all he will allow himself – Loki  lets himself imagine he is back in Asgard, out at the edge of the great wood in which he and Thor had played as children.

There is a vibration in his pocket, and Loki removes the phone.

UNKNOWN NUMBER, 19:16 its tony. u okay?

LOKI, 19:16 Yes. I am out upon the grounds – my apologies, I merely needed the air.

UNKNOWN NUMBER, 19:18 dw abt it. We r heading out in like, t-10

LOKI, 19:18 Very well. I’ll begin my return.

Out here, in Westchester County, there is hardly any worry about being seen, and so to speed his promenade he takes upon the air, his footsteps touching upon it as easily as they might ground or stair. Loki has Skywalked since he was a child, and it is his most basic, intrinsic magic, even before his illusions and his shapeshifting – strange, that this should equally be the magic he finds the most exciting.

He climbs the invisible stairway up into the air, until he is surveying the X-Mansion’s sprawling grounds from far above, taking the bird’s eye view. The grounds are beautiful, and Loki even sees a lake on the other side—

(“Skywalking, huh? What’s that?”

“Like flight, but more controlled. I walk upon the air, as it were.”

“Huh.” Rogers had murmured, and made a note on the page.)

He begins his descent, and when he comes into sight of the entrance hall, everyone is gathered on the steps once more.

“You can fly?” Summers barks out.

“As well as you can see, I should wager,” Loki replies. “I might not see your eyes, Mr Summers, but that does not mean I disbelieve their existence.”

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr Summers,” Loki says, taking Summers by the left shoulder and forcing his hand into his, shaking it firmly. Summers seems surprised at having someone come so easily into his space, leaning back, but loosely shaking Loki’s hand nonetheless. Munroe is watching him, her dark eyes focused on him, and Loki gives a low and princely bow, his posture perfect – isn’t it always? To think, that there is so much royalty to be found in this strange city, and yet—

Perhaps she embraces her blood. Perhaps not. Who is to say?

“A pleasure to meet you, your highness,” he murmurs, and Munroe’s lip twitches before she offers him her hand. He takes it, feeling the warmth of it, and most of all, feeling the storm within her – her energy is not dissimilar to Thor’s, and for a second, Loki’s very heart leaps in his chest.

“Good to meet you too,” Munroe murmurs. “You going to be good?”

“I’m going to try,” Loki says.

“Tony tells me you’re going to make a Facebook,” McCoy murmurs, taking Loki’s hand in each of his own, and he says, “You should add me.”

“Should I?” Loki asks, surprised by how so insignificant a gesture should mean to him, and he inclines his head. “I will, Doctor McCoy.”

“Call me Hank.”

“Henry,” Loki assents, and McCoy’s laugh is low and resonant. His hands are so warm on Loki’s own, and yet it is nothing to the genuine warmth the other man radiates, wave by wave, easily. “Thank you,” he says, surprised by the genuine feeling in his own words, and Henry pats him on the shoulder before turning and making his way into the house.

We should have a talk, says a voice at the edge of Loki’s mind, and he turns to Xavier, meeting his gaze. You sure you don’t wish to stay the night?

Is that a proposition? Loki replies, and he moves, snakelike, toward Xavier’s chair, leaning and putting one hand over each of Xavier’s, his head tilting.

“Hey!” Summers says, but Xavier laughs, and he reaches up, patting Loki’s cheek. Henry is already drawing Summers away, clucking his tongue and shaking his head: for an old man, growing infirm in his age, Xavier doesn’t seem upset by Loki’s mockery.

“You know very well what it was,” Xavier replies, and Loki chuckles himself, leaning back and standing properly before Xavier.

“I do,” Loki says. “You are hungry for knowledge, Professor, that you do not have. You have touched the minds of ancients and immortals alike, and yet you crave more. Easily might I comprehend a feeling I have long-since nursed within me. You know as well as I do what would happen if I gave you what you wanted – your mind would turn to slurry, and bleed from those ears as liquid.”

We should have a talk regardless, Xavier says, his lips smiling, and unmoving. You’ll give Henry your phone number? Loki nods his head, slowly, and he reaches out, taking Xavier’s hand once more.

You and Henry share a fatal flaw, Loki thinks, even as he turns away from Xavier and holds the door open for Barton, Romanov and Stark, allowing each of them to get in before himself. Xavier’s gaze remains on Loki, his intelligent eyes unblinking.

Oh?

You know the truth, and yet you choose to hope instead. Why is that? Loki slips into the limousine, closing the door shut behind him, and yet he feels Xavier’s presence there beside him nonetheless, feels his energy, hears his voice.

Because we’re human, Loki. Will you join us in that, I wonder? Loki closes off his mind, the energy at the edge of it clouding over, and he looks out of the frosted glass of the window as the Westchester countryside passes them by.

“Did you get what you needed?” he asks, looking at Stark, and Stark nods his head.

“Did you?” The question confuses him, annoys him, and so he ignores it. Stark lets him.

-----✪-✪-✪-Ⓐ -✪-✪-✪-----

“May I?”

The words play in Steve’s head like a litany, and he feels the heat in his arms as he brings himself down to the ground again and again, pushing up and away from it. Jesus Christ, it’s been two fucking months of being alive again, and his girl is dying in a hospital bed, stuck with IVs, dying of old age; all of Steve’s friends are dead, and the city itself is different around him, and he says May I?

He’s in the same boat as you, you know, says a low voice in the back of his head, a voice of reason: it sounds like Abraham Erskine, accent and everything, and Steve feels a burning nausea settle in the belly. No? You don’t think so? Alone in a foreign city, deaths behind him, regrets?

Our situations aren’t the same.

No, they aren’t. You can choose to leave: he can’t. Steve jumps up from the ground, and he begins to rail punches down on the steel-reinforced punching bag Nick Fury had sent over: he’s replaced the chain twice today already, and soon, he’ll need to replace it again. Steve punches it again and again and again, feeling the sick burn in his knuckles, feeling the bile in the back of his throat.

Loki’s lips, freezing cold against Steve’s own, and Steve remembering the cold again, the ice! He punches the bag so hard that the casement bursts, and bent steel cuts the back of his fingers to the bone, making him hiss out a sound and come away from the punching bag, reaching for some kitchen towel to stem the bleeding.

He shakes his head, walking up the stairs toward the main halls, and it’s just as Tony’s returning from Westchester.

“What’d you do to your hand?” Tony asks, and Steve just groans, shaking his head.

“Got a bit aggressive with that punching bag. Punched straight through the steel. Loki!” he calls down the hall, gripping his torn fingers a little tighter and ignoring the pain. “How were the X-Men?”

“They were great,” Tony admits, shrugging his shoulders. “A little, uh, apprehensive about him at first, but— You haven’t met Henry McCoy, but the guy’s got a soft spot for people like Loki. And Xavier…”

“I know Xavier,” Steve says lowly, and he turns to Loki, who is looking at him with uncertainty on his marble features. “Can you heal this?” Loki looks down at Steve’s hand, and for a second Steve thinks he’s going to try to refuse, say something like I can, and try to walk away, but he takes Steve’s hand in his palm, magic tingling over his flesh and repairing the cuts.

“You should let me make a punching bag,” Loki says softly. “One you can use – one I could use. It would take me some time, but I—”

“Do it,” Steve says, nodding his head. “That everything?” A shadow passes over Loki’s face. Turning on his heel, he walks away without another word, and Steve watches him go, his lips pressed together. Tony is staring at him like he just kicked a damn puppy, and Steve says, “What?”

“Steve,” Tony says, “You can’t just do that. You didn’t even thank the guy.”

“I’m not gonna have this conversation right now,” Steve says, crumpling up the towel and throwing it into the trashcan at the side of the kitchen. “Tell me about the meeting.” Tony seems hesitant, as if he wants to chew Steve out for not wanting Loki near him right now, but he backs down, and he talks shop.

It’s great stuff, all of it, even if Steve doesn’t trust Charles Xavier, but Tony seems unwilling to ask about that either, and Steve wonders if he’s really that much more perceptive than his father, or if he trusts Steve that little. They talk for an hour or so, and Steve knows there’s a lot more to go over, but for now…

The X-Men are gonna give them resources, government contacts, links to other superhero teams, even trade-offs when teams don’t work out. It’s all good, and yet… It doesn’t feel like enough. As Steve walks away, he thinks about the punching bag downstairs, thinks of the blood on the leather.

He’s knocking on Loki’s door before he knows it, and the door opens. Loki looks at him, his expression completely impassive, expectantly. After a long pause, he says, “No orders, Captain?”

“What happened to Steve?” he asks, and Loki moves to shut the door in his face, but Steve’s hand catches it before he can close it shut. “Can I come in?”

“I don’t know,” Loki says archly. “It’s hardly my decision, is it? Mr Stark owns what paltry possessions I might foolishly lay claim to, and you possess me. Why should you ask me such a question as can you when you know that you can?” Loki walks away from Steve, moving into his rooms, and Steve shuts the door behind him as he follows Loki in.

“That’s what it was about, huh?” Steve asks, “What, you try to mount a seduction so that I’ll order you around less? That what you want?”

“No,” Loki says. He says it emphatically, singularly, and says nothing else.

“Did you think I wanted it? Was your magic trying to get you to anticipate some—”

“No.” Loki is holding his hands in front of him, and his thumb and forefinger rub into the muscle packed onto his slim hands, the anxious movement serving to send blood flush into the pale skin.

“Did—”

“Please,” Loki says. “Stop it. I was wrong to make such an advance: you soundly rejected it. Let us move on.” He looks like an animal, trapped in a cage, and Steve takes a slow, careful step forward: Loki steps away from him. Steve takes another step forward, and another, until Loki is backed right against the fake window of his bedroom, and he is trying to keep his gaze on the ground, trying to ignore Steve’s stare, until Steve pushes him in the chest and Loki has to look up.

“You can’t do that,” Steve says, very quietly, and then says, “Do you know why? Do you need me to tell you why?” Steve doesn’t wait for Loki to reply, and he says, “Because you can’t really say yes, or no, to me. Because if you don’t want something, you couldn’t say no.”

“So?”

“What the Hell do you mean, so? You want me to make you do things you don’t wanna do?”

“You already do,” Loki says. “What’s the difference?” Steve stares at him, stares at him, and he sees only genuine confusion, bafflement, hurt in Loki’s face, and Christ, that’s just not normal. He turns away, putting his hand on his head, and he swallows the bile that rises all the faster in his throat.

“They’re different, Loki,” Steve murmurs. “Me making you save lives, be an Avenger – that’s for a greater good. I’m not ordering you around because I like it, or because I want it: I’m doing it because it’s what I have to do. “I don’t want to order you to…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“I believe the point is that you’re not ordering me,” Loki murmurs. “Others in your position would jump at the chance to—”

“Yeah, well others aren’t in my position,” Steve snaps, and Loki stares at him. His fingernails are digging the meat of his hand, now, so deeply they leave crescent marks in the skin, and Steve reaches out to pull his hands apart before he can draw blood. Loki lets him, his wrists limp in Steve’s hands. “Don’t hurt yourself,” Steve murmurs. “Don’t do that, Loki.”

“Captain Rogers—”

“Loki,” Steve interrupts him, emphatically. “You can call me Steve, if you want.” Loki’s Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.

“Captain Rogers,” Loki continues in the smallest of voices. “They’re all just so young. But you—”

“What?” Loki’s lips part, his eyes shining for the barest second, and then the illusion comes right back, and Loki pulls his arms protectively over his chest. “What?”

“I don’t belong here,” Loki murmurs. “Much as you are unwilling to admit it, Captain Rogers, nor do you. They waited until they needed you, and they broke you out of that ice, to use you as a tool – as much as me.” Steve sets his jaw, staring down at Loki. It’s surprisingly perceptive, some of the shit he says, and especially given that it’s coming out now, when Steve knows he isn’t saying it to manipulate him. “How does it feel?”

“Shitty,” Steve replies. “How about yourself?”

“Much the same.”

“I can walk away, Loki,” Steve murmurs. “You can’t.” Loki laughs, shaking his head.

“Of course you can’t. Just because there isn’t magic binding you doesn’t mean you truly have a choice. You are in the debt of a Cold War operative who has yet to realise his war is over; you are in the lap of a new century. You are a soldier for a country that no longer exists, not as it once did. If you think you have any more choice than I do, you are a fool as much as you are a patriot.” It should piss Steve off, to hear Loki talk like this, to hear him take him to pieces just to lay him out with labels on the page, like a diagram in Loki’s stupid notebook, and yet… “And even if you had a choice before, you don’t any more. Here I am: your final shackle.” Loki reaches up, and his hand touches Steve’s cheek. His hand is freezing cold, as if a statue has touched him, but before Steve can say anything, Loki draws his hand away, and Steve’s face is cool on one side, flushed with heat on the other.

“It’s different, Loki,” he repeats.

“I believe you,” Loki says, and he begins to undo his tie. “Good night— Steven.”

“Nobody calls me that.”

“I do,” Loki replies evenly, and Steve stares at him for a second, then smiles, grimly. “Mr Stark says I’ll get my papers this week.”

“So?”

“I don’t know what name to write on the form.”

“Loki?”

“They want a surname. I have two to choose from: Odinson, Laufeyson. Which brush do I tar myself with?” Steve frowns, pressing his lips together, then takes a few steps back, moving toward the door.

“Pick something new. It’s your name, after all.”

“Really? I believe someone informed me my name belonged to him.” He’s asking me permission, Steve realizes, all at once, and he feels guilt churn in his chest – hasn’t he got enough guilt to deal with? Does he really need more?

“Sounds like he was just pissed he’d been backed into a corner,” Steve replies. “Real dick, that guy.”

“Oh, I agree,” Loki says, carefully undoing the cuffs of his shirt. “Good night, Steven.”

“Good night, Loki,” Steve replies, and he pulls the door shut behind him – and promptly presses his face against the cool wood, smelling the varnish, smelling the new paint, now dried against the door. He takes out the phone he’d taken from Pepper that morning, and he types in a text.

Steve Rogers, 21:43 You wanna go for a drink?

Sam, 21:43 Thought you’d never ask.

[walkerwords]

“My Person” Connie x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT:  Gene Page/AMC

Request from @thanossexual​ So I had this idea for Connie x Reader where they were together looooong before the apocalypse happened (imagine if they're engaged 😍) so they are in alexandria for a while now. Connie is friends with Daryl, but Y/n notices that glint Daryl has in his eye when his talking with Connie and she gets a little insecure so her fiancé reassures her, and they have a cuddling session 😌❤️ Lots of fluff with a little bit of jealousy. You can add something there if you want to spice up things even more and make it into more angsty imagine. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Word Count: 2123

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Our Love Comes Back” by James Blake

Note: Of course we don’t know Connie’s sexuality for sure, but the reader is GN in this one! All ASL is in italics

--------

The waves crashed into one another on a sunlit shore as an army prepared for battle.

You stood on a watchpoint, keeping your eyes on the formation below as Aaron led the charge. When Oceanside had offered their beach for training, Daryl had roped everyone else into agreeing. While the Whisperers had drawn their lines, nobody was dropping their guard, especially after what had happened at the fair.

Your group had joined Hilltop when Judith Grimes had found you in the woods one afternoon. You, Magna, Yumiko, Luke, Kelly, and your fiancée, Connie, had all been welcomed quite coldly by Michonne at first, but now, everyone had begun to feel like a family. One you were thrilled to have after being on the road for so long. 

You and Connie had been together since before the Turn. The two of you had been High School sweethearts and when the world ended, you didn’t let her out of your sight. As you moved through the world with both Connie and Kelly, you became their main protector. While Connie was the most intuitive of your trio, you had been a strong fighter since before everything had crashed down. 

You acted as their scout and took care of any threat that would try to take the love of your life and your best friend away from you. Since living in the new world, you were wary of strangers. Connie trusted people, or rather she wanted to believe that there were still good people out there. Kelly was more skeptical but tended to be more of an optimist like her sister. 

When you had met Michonne and then more of her people as the days went by, you didn’t know how to feel about being around them in such close quarters. Then, Connie had gone with Daryl to rescue a couple of teenagers from the girl’s homicidal mother, and you were left alone without the woman you loved. 

After the fair, everyone was closer, especially Connie and Daryl. While a part of you knew that they had gone through a lot together, that they had fought together, you couldn’t help but see how much Connie’s eyes lit up whenever he was around. Daryl Dixon was a kind man and a strong leader. He had taken to your family easily and he had even begun to learn ASL.

As much as you liked him, you weren’t too thrilled about how much time he spent with Connie. Since arriving at Oceanside, you noticed that they were never too far from each other. Connie was always watching him train, the way he easily killed the Dead with his dual blades and crossbow. 

Dixon didn’t seem like the kind of man to initiate any kind of physical touches with anyone, but with Connie, it seemed easy. He would squeeze her arm or tap his fist against her shoulder with pride. You knew that he was just being friendly, but you couldn’t stop the jealously that rose in you when you watched them.

One afternoon, you were sitting down by the water when you heard soft footsteps approaching. You smiled over at Kelly as she sat down next to you. “Hey,” she said, her eyes turned towards the horizon.

“Hi,” you said back with a quick sign as well. While Kelly hadn’t completely lost her hearing, you knew that she was having days when it would come in and out and that she was worried. You also knew that she appreciated it when you used ASL whenever you spoke to her, just in case. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Kelly asked. You nodded, not looking at your friend. Kelly sighed and then reached over and touched your shoulder, getting you to look at her. “Talk to me,” Kelly signed. 

“It’s nothing,” you signed back, shrugging your shoulders. 

“They’re just friends, (Y/N),” Kelly said out loud. 

“If you already knew what was bothering me, why bother asking, Kel?”

“I was hoping you would tell me yourself,” she said with a knowing look. She was looking at you with patience, something she always did. Kelly was the one person who could read you like a book. Even Connie didn’t know everything her sister did. It was a bond that you never thought you would have and you cherished it, especially in the world you now were forced to survive in. 

“Have you noticed her acting weird lately?” You asked Kelly. 

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know...distant?” 

“Distant from you?” Kelly asked and you nodded. “Not really, but we are sort of all stressed out right now. With the Skins pissed at us and with what happened to Henry and the others…” Kelly trailed off and you flopped down onto the sand, basking in the warm sun. 

“I know,” you sighed, your hands following your words. “I’m being crazy right? Thinking something is going on between the two of them?”

“I get why your head is goin’ there, but they are just friends. My sister loves you so much and she and Daryl are oddly similar. I guess she finally found her own best friend. Sort of how you have me,” she said with a wink. 

“Daryl Dixon has nothing on you,” you signed, earning a smile from Kelly. 

“Thank you,” she signed back. “Seriously though,” she said, “talk to Connie. I’m sure your thoughts will shut up afterward.”

---------

Later that day, you found Daryl with Dog watching over his niece and nephew. 

“It’s weird, right?” Daryl said as you sat next to him. You were somewhat startled because he was never the one to initiate a conversation with you. 

“What is?” you asked, looking over at him. He gestured forward, pointing at Judith and RJ. 

“That,” he said. “Seein’ the little ones playin’ in the sand like the old times.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “I guess I never thought I would see something like that again.” It was silent again as the salty air rushed around you two. Eventually, he tore his eyes from the kids again to refocus on you. 

“How are ya doin’?” Daryl asked, catching you off guard again. 

“I’m fine, Daryl,” you said with a small smile, not liking how awkward the energy between the two of you was. “And you? How’s the training going?” 

“You tell me,” he said as he picked at his fingernails with the smaller knife in his hands. “Were the formations lookin’ good from yer spot up top?” 

“So far,” you said, kicking at the stray rocks at your feet. 

“Thanks for bein’ our eyes, (Y/N),” Daryl said. “Usually it’s Carol, but…” he trailed off and you didn’t ask him to elaborate. You didn’t know the woman that well, but you knew that she was grieving over the loss of her son, something you could never even begin to imagine. You also knew that Carol was Daryl’s best friend according to Connie. 

“You know, “ you said, “it’s too bad we can’t just clone you a bunch of times. You’re a hell of a fighter, Daryl.” He gave you a small smile, one that was hard to receive from the stoic man, but he seemed to be warming up to you and the others quickly. 

“Connie tells me you’re pretty great yourself. Told me the other day that you trained her and her sister.” You nodded, smiling at the thought of Connie praising you in front of your new friends. 

“My father was a SEAL,” you explained. “I had to pick up a few things before the end of the world. Though their skills are all thanks to them, they’re quick studies.”

“It’s good that ya knew all that. M’glad you were able to survive this long,” he said with a knock to your shoulder, something he only ever did to his friends. Perhaps he was starting to think of you that way as well. 

“Thanks, Dixon,” you said. 

“Ya think ya can help some of the fresher faces wield their blades? Not sure if many are gettin’ the hang of hand to hand at this point,” Daryl asked, gathering up his stuff. 

“Not a problem,” you agreed. Daryl smiled once more at you before clapping his hands together and getting Dog to chase Judith and RJ, the kids laughing as the canine yipped happily at them. You smiled after them and immediately felt stupid for the thoughts you had expressed earlier. 

Daryl Dixon was a good man.

--------

Later that night you lay awake in the trailer you and the rest of your family were sharing. 

You didn’t know where Kelly or Luke were, but you were grateful for the quiet. It was well after dinner when Connie crept quietly into the room, probably thinking you were asleep. Reaching over, you clicked on the lantern, gaining her attention. She waved to you and you sat up in the bed, watching her peel off her boots and pull her hair out of its tie. 

You loved the moments when she began to relax for the evening. You always felt so lucky to be able to see the more vulnerable side of her. “What’s up, Love?” she signed, sitting down on the side of the bed.

Shrugging, you just signed, “nothing.” Connie rolled her eyes and playfully pushed you, tucking her legs underneath her to fully face you. 

“I know you better than that,” she signed with a frown. You watched her in the low light of the trailer for a moment before giving in. 

“It’s ridiculous. I was just feeling jealous,” you explained.

“Jealous? Why?” You gave her a look, but she still didn’t seem to get it. 

“You and Daryl were just getting closer,” you said. “I didn’t like it.” Connie shook her head, her curls bouncing around her face. 

“Is that what this is about? We are just friends,” she promised. 

“No, I know,” you said. “I was just letting my emotions get to me. Lots of stress.” Connie frowned again and then in a single movement, sprang at you. You tumbled back down onto the bed as she pinned you, keeping your hands locked to your sides so you couldn’t interrupt her. 

“Listen to me,” she signed, her eyes never leaving yours. “I love you. I have always loved you. I know that we have been under stress, but we will beat it. Together.” Connie repeated the sign for “together”, her hands placed together at the knuckles with her thumbs up as she rotated her hands in a horizontal circle. “Okay?” 

You raised your brows, asking for permission to respond when she moved her legs so you can free your hands. “Okay,” you first signed. “I’m sorry I was being so…”

“Jealous?” she asked and you nodded with a roll of your eyes. 

“It has just been a while since I have seen you smile the way you do when you are with him,” you finally admitted. 

“He is a horrible signer, it is funny,” she said with a snicker. 

“You know what I mean, Connie,” you said and she nodded her fist, the sign for “yes”.

“You are my person, (Y/N). Kelly loves you, Luke loves you, Magna, Yumiko, all of them. You are family and you are the only one for me.” A tear fell from your eye as you watched her hands, feeling the emotions that she expressed through her signing.

“I guess I never thought I would have to worry about losing you to anything but the Dead,” you admitted. 

“Never, never,” she signed. 

“I love you,” you said aloud and she read your lips perfectly. With a wide smile, she pinned your arms above your head and kissed you slowly. Your fingers intertwined as you melted into the woman you loved with everything you had. 

Just as she began to slide down your body, the door opened and you froze. Connie furrowed her brow just as Kelly slid into Connie’s view. Used to her sister’s interruptions, Connie smiled at Kelly. 

With a smile of her own, Kelly jumped on top of both of you, hugging her best friend and sister tightly as you and Connie struggled for air. When she sat up, she was beaming down at both of you. You grinned at her and Connie. 

“My two favourite people!” you signed enthusiastically. 

“But you like me more, right?” Kelly signed with a chuckle. With a roll of her eyes, Connie kicked her sister, shoving her off the bed and onto the hard floor.

Kelly looked up at both of you in shock before dissolving into a fit of laughter. You and Connie soon followed and all the worry from earlier in the day washed away.

You were Connie’s person and nothing was going to change that. 

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​   @felicisimor