#i meant to get back to this earlier but i got very very ill and then forgot

[rustedleopard]

In reference to this post.

@twothpaste​ The especially rich thing about people who justify their cruelty by saying that “The world is screwed up anyways” and “People who are kind are actually stupid, I’m just seeing the world as it is and acting accordingly” (or whatever excuses they conjure up so they can act like an asshole with no sweat off their conscious) is that it’s self-fulfilling.

Like, yeah, sure there are things in the world that are terrible and unavoidable like natural disasters and disease. There’s no amount of “being nice” that can make cancer stop existing. But people’s actions are controllable and if you’re being a terrible person, then you’re part of the reason why the world is terrible. What you do impacts the universe around you, and there is nothing you can do to isolate your actions from the rest of the world, so if you’re being a dick then: Congrats! You’re feeding into your stupid worldview and making everyone else around you miserable, you Ouroborus motherfucker!

[writtnbyhan]

Let me take care of you.

PAIRING: han jisung x reader

TAGS: sickfic, idol!han, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 1927

PROMPT: "and just when were you going to tell me about your [injury/illness]?" You're sick and Jisung is worried -- That's the plot.

warnings: mentions of being sick (reader has a cold). Let me know if I missed a warning.

author's note: i don't know where this came from. I had something very different planned for today's post but this came to me in a vision and now i can only think of jisung taking care of his s/o, he's so baby and he's probably so good at taking care of people !!!!! i just wanna be in between his arms !! being cared for !!!

Okay, here’s the thing: you knew you were getting kinda sick. You knew from the way your body ached when you first woke up, from the sore throat and from the general feeling of being unwell. However, you decided it was not a big deal, and that was obviously your first mistake.

It was Jisung’s kind-of-free day, which meant he only had to go to the studio with 3RACHA to work on “some stuff”, as he put it himself, refusing to elaborate claiming that it was a surprise. You knew they were probably working on music for the next comeback even when this one wasn’t even out yet, and that’s why Jisung wouldn’t come clean, wanting to avoid your reprimanding from overworking themselves when they finally have some free time from the studio, only having to comply with the schedules related to the comeback.

On these days, he was usually only busy for a few hours before they got distracted with something random and therefore decided to call it quits, going home and relaxing for a few hours before moving onto the next scheduled activity. Today, Jisung didn’t have any of those, only going to the studio and then straight back home. You didn’t want to ruin what little time together you were getting these days, and you weren’t actually sick yet, so it wasn’t anything you should worry about.

You woke up alone, the other side of the bed unmade from when Hanji woke up, earlier, and went to the gym before the studio. He spent most nights with you, cuddling to make up for the time you weren’t capable of being together due to busy schedules and responsibilities. Everything ached, and the only thing you wanted to do was cover yourself with the sheets and sleep some more. But, you couldn’t do that. You needed to take a shower, clean up a bit, and force yourself to feel better. “Just for today, tomorrow we can be sick,” you told your body as you got out of bed, frowning and closing your eyes when the light coming through the window was quick to cause you a headache.

Shower first, you decided, going for the warm water and hoping it’d help with the pain on your body. It did, luckily. You then brushed your teeth, noticing on the mirror that the bags under your eyes were darker and more noticeable. Yes, you were obviously getting sick. Tomorrow. You were getting sick tomorrow, because today you had to spend the day with Jisung and cuddle with him watching Ghibli movies, it was a need.

After breakfast, you took some ibuprofen and sent Jisung a quick text.

“good morning, baby. hope everything’s going well at the studio, missing you already :)”

Putting your phone down after that, you set out to clean up the apartment, taking more ibuprofen whenever your body was being inconvenient to you.

“hello cutie, we’re actually wrapping up for the day!! going home in 30, love you.” You read the text when ten minutes had already passed since it was received. With a smile on your face, you sent a quick reply, knowing it wasn’t necessary given that he was already coming home, but also knowing that he would sulk if you didn’t reply to his “love you”.

“love you too<3 will be waiting with the popcorn ready.”

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and conditioning the living room for

Making good on your promise, you started making popcorn and setting up the living room for your movie plans, bringing all the blankets you could find (which was not actually necessary, but you were starting to feel cold so you thought it’d be better to have those around) and the pillows from your bed.

As you were placing the popcorn on the table with some juice, the door opened, and in came the squirrel-looking boy that was able to put a smile on your face instantaneously, even when you were feeling so ill.

“Hello, my love!” you said, dramatically, bringing a hand to your own chest as if to hold your heart. “I thought you’d never make it, I was left missing you for too long!”

He smiled with that heart-shaped smile that made your heart do spins. You felt dizzy just by looking at him (okay, maybe that was the cold you probably had, but you decided to convince yourself it was Jisung’s fault). “My lady, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, shall we begin with our plans?”

You giggled, skipping towards him to give him a kiss on the cheek and drag him to the couch that was currently surrounded by blankets. You chose one and threw it over both of you, getting comfortable in between your boyfriend’s arms with the remote in hand.

Halfway through the first Ghibli movie of the night, you began sneezing.

“’m sorry” you mumbled, getting up to grab some tissues and noticing you felt much more sick than in the morning.

You should tell Jisung, you knew that. But he’d worry, and you didn’t want to cut your night together short.

So, you didn’t. You grabbed the tissues and got back into his arms, kissing his hands when they were in front of you. Jisung freezed when you did that, and you frowned — it was a common gesture between the two of you, why was he reacting like that?

His hand went quickly to your forehead.

Oh, that.

Jisung gasped.

“Baby, you’re burning up.”

He sounded worried, and you sighed.

“I know.” You said. You didn’t actually know you had a fever, but you didn’t want him to make a fuss. You wanted to watch movies together, and cuddle, and sleep. And okay, maybe you had a headache and that had made you grumpy, which was something that always happened when you were sick so Jisung was used by now to your complaints about his caring.

However, despite knowing you always reacted badly to feeling unwell, that comment had made him frown, looking at you while his hand was still on your forehead.

“You knew?” he repeated, clearly agravated by what you had just told him. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me? When you collapsed in the hallway or while I was being forced to bring you to the hospital?”

He was being dramatic, of course, but the sincerity in his worry and his concern made your heart soften a little, so you directed your eyes to the floor, blinking to try and ease the headache that had formed from looking at the screen for too long.

“I didn’t wanna worry you” you mumbled, voice soft and shy. He melted a little at that, his anger dissapearing almost as quick as it had made his way forth.

“Baby, you need someone to take care of you when you’re feeling like this. We could’ve just cuddled in bed so you were more comfortable, and I could’ve been checking on your temperature and your medicine. What hurts?” he asked, giving a little kiss to your forehead before letting his hold around you loosen, clearly having plans of getting up.

You whined at the lost of his warmth against your back, your eyes filling up with unwanted tears at the cold and the loneliness you suddenly felt.

“Hannie…” you cried out, looking up at him, who looked almost bewildered. When he met your eyes, a pout formed in his face. He extended his arms towards you, now standing in front of the couch, and hugged you so you could attach yourself to him like a koala would to a tree. Your hold was weak, so he made sure to keep you safe with one hand on your back while he wrapped a blanket around you as if you were a baby. You knew the plan was to get you to your shared bed so you could cuddle more comfortably and drift off to sleep when you needed it. Problem was: you had needed it for about 15 minutes by now, so hiding your face in his neck and letting his warmth envelop you, you were quick to fall asleep against him, not minding his movements or the sounds around you.

You woke up when it was already dark outside. A wet cloth was on your forehead and you were now in bed, your boyfriend’s hand on your waist and Ponyo playing in the background. You looked to your bedside table and found a water bottle and some pills that you knew you didn’t have in your house. You knew Jisung never wanted to leave your side when you were sick, no matter that you were asleep, so you were sure he had those delivered or asked one of the boys to pick them up for him.

You turned around, letting the wet cloth fall off so as to hide your face in his chest. You felt better after sleeping, and you were sure your fever had subsided because you no longer felt cold, but your throat was still sore and your eyes still stung with the light.

At your movement, Han directed all his attention towards you, kissing your forehead and tightening his hold on your waist.

“Hello, sleepyhead. You need to take some medicine, I asked Chan-hyung to bring it here because all you had was some ibuprofen, and you were running out of it. How are you feeling?” he asked, his free hand caressing your hair and making you feel a lot more relaxed, even when your back still ached and your throat hurt.

“I’m okay,” you settled for, your voice coming out raspy and probably revealing what you were hiding. He chuckled, and you knew he knew what you just said was a lie, so you sighed. “I’m feeling a lot better, but my throat still hurts and my body aches. It’s probably just a cold.” You mumbled the last part against his chest, a subtle way of saying: there’s no need to worry this much.

He nodded, which you knew because you felt his head moving above yours. “Probably. Please, take some medicine so you can feel better faster.”

You did as he asked, taking the pill he was offering you and drinking from the water bottle he had uncapped and handed to you. You smiled at him in thanks, after wincing from the bitter taste of the pill.

“Sorry for ruining or movie date.” Your eyes were sad and he knew you were sincerely sorry. A pout formed on your lips as you thought of when you would be able to have the next one, knowing it’d be difficult to plan out given that the comeback was so close.

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” he said, equally as sincere. “It’s not your fault you got sick, and I don’t mind taking care of you — I really like it, actually. Plus, I got to watch the movies while watching you sleep, so… I really don’t mind. I just want you to be okay so we can have more movie dates.”

You blushed at his words, feeling soft and just wanting to kiss him — you both knew you should not do that, for he couldn’t get sick now because he had a lot of presentations and performances to do. You pouted.

“This is so unfair, I want to kiss you so badly,” you complained, and he laughed, kissing your cheek.

“I know, baby, me too. So, take your medicine so I can get all the kisses you owe me.”

[celtic-crossbow]

It’s Alright, It’s Okay

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader {Could be platonic but that’s not where my brain was}

Setting: Alexandria era

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, struggles with mental illness

Summary: You accidentally allow Daryl to see your scars.

A/N: Yesterday sucked for me for a million different reasons. This is really a way for me to vent more than anything. I’ve never done a y/n before so I’m sorry if I screw it up. No beta, all mistakes are cause I suck.

“I got the dishes!” You volunteered, probably a little too cheerfully, before collecting the empty plates from the coffee table and shuffling along to the kitchen. You had a dining table but it had never seen a single use.

It had been a rather uneventful day in Alexandria, for which you were thankful. That meant no one had died just trying to complete what used to be mundane tasks for everyday living. Now, since the world had gone to shit, everything was a risk. Just scrubbing the sauce from those dishes could somehow very well lead to your demise. Regardless, you rolled up your sleeves and ran the water.

Daryl had brought home a deer earlier in the day. It was a large buck that would feed the town for a while if the meat was rationed properly. He had been given his own portion, as per usual, for being responsible for the kill. The archer had used the meat grinder in the kitchen at his and Carol’s place, meaning, of course, that Carol had offered and he had shrugged while sharpening a knife.

You had chosen that moment to knock on their door. The silver-haired woman had shown you a cookie recipe but the pantry was out of an ingredient. Carol usually had the things you needed or would at least know something you could substitute.

“Oh, man! My sister used to make venison spaghetti!” You had commented while she had stepped away to get what you needed. You had half a box of angel hair pasta and a can of sauce at your place. “Hey, Dixon?” You continued when he hummed in acknowledgment, “think I could steal just a little of this to make some?”

He had stared at you for a moment before giving a nod. In your excitement, you had thrown him an invite to share the meal just as Carol returned and handed over the ziplock bag with the ingredient you needed for the cookies.

“Alright.” He drawled, sheathing the knife he had been working with.

You quickly invited Carol as well, realizing what you had done, but she smiled knowingly and shook her head. You had at least waited until you were on their porch before slapping a palm to your forehead and calling yourself an idiot.

Still, dinner had gone over without a hitch, even if you did sit side by side on the couch with your plates on your laps. You had laughed when he’d tip back his head to dangle the end of the noodles over his mouth so he could descend the forkful carefully. He had even chuckled when you had dropped half a bite onto your shirt when trying to mimic his actions. It had really been…nice.

Now you stood in your kitchen, rinsing the dishes and placing them in the strainer. You hadn’t heard him enter, but you rarely did. The man moved like a ghost for someone his size.

“S’that from?” His sudden inquiry from just behind you had startled you enough to send the plate clattering into the sink. It didn’t break, thank goodness.

“What’s what from?” You replied, casting him a brief glance before you continued your task. The last dish was quickly rinsed and placed with the others.

“Them scars.”

You were drying your hands on a towel when you suddenly stilled. Fuck. The pale, raised imperfections stood out starkly on your forearms and you instantly felt nausea creeping up your throat, burning at the back of your tongue. “Oh, that’s nothing.” You dropped the towel and quickly started to roll down your sleeves.

But he was faster.

His calloused fingers felt rough against your skin in contrast to his gentle grip around your wrist. You felt electric pulses centering from where he was touching you, but the shame erupting from within you wouldn’t allow you to dwell on how right that felt.

Tears were already forming on your lashes as he studied the myriad of scars littering your arm from wrist to elbow. Some were larger or more jagged than others, but each one contained a story of your past; a hurt you inflicted upon yourself to cope with the hurt done to you by someone else.

“Don’t look like nothin’ to me.”

You had never heard him speak so softly and it made you feel that much worse. Daryl Dixon was anything but soft. For him to pity you must mean you were a real piece of work.

“Please,” you begged, your bottom lip quivering. You were barely holding yourself together. “Just…leave it.”

Those striking blue eyes left your arm to focus on your face. You quickly looked away, lest he see how pathetic you were. He released you and took a step back.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N.”

You nodded and tried to smile, but never met his gaze before you heard the front door close. You sat on the kitchen floor and cried for hours, finally dragging yourself to the couch a few hours before you’d have to be up for the start of another day.

Months passed by and things changed, as they often did. You started to find Daryl sitting on your porch steps, cleaning his crossbow or tinkering with some motorcycle part. Most days, you just offered him a greeting and went on your way. Some days, when you were feeling brave or especially curious, you would ask about his weapon. His replies were always short and gruff but never rude or angry.

Eventually, this became the norm. You started bringing him water or lemonade, sitting with him while you drank your tea. Conversations were never lengthy but enough to ensure any silence was comfortable. You started to miss him when he was gone for runs or recruiting. Then you’d open your door one morning to find him perched in what you had long ago deemed ‘his spot’ and the smile that would grace your features was unbidden yet genuine.

One warm summer evening, while you sat together on the top step, your head was laid against his shoulder while his arm was draped around yours. The first time you had tried to lean on him, he had flinched so hard that he had dropped the water glass and you had apologized profusely while cleaning up the mess. At some later point, you both had started dropping your walls, bit by bit, and now here you were.

Still, even with the contentment you found in each other's company, something lingered.

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?”

You could feel him move and knew he was looking down toward where your temple rested against the front of his shoulder. “I’d like to tell you about it now,” you paused for a breath, “if you still want to know.” You waited for him to ask what you were talking about but, as he tended to do, the archer surprised you.

“Ya can tell me if ya wanna talk ‘bout it. Ya don’t hafta though.”

You smiled to yourself but it faded just as quickly. “I did it to myself.” You took another deep breath before continuing, keeping your eyes on the stars in the distant sky. “My life was hard even before the end of the world. I couldn’t cope with the things that happened to me…that were done to me… so I’d find something sharp—” you heard and felt his breath hitch but you couldn’t stop now. “I’d use anything at first. Anything that could make a cut. Eventually I started using a razor blade.” You just let the words tumble out, feeling a tear slide down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “Everything just hurt so bad and it was the only way I could handle it all. It was the only thing that kept the pain at bay. I know it doesn’t make sense but I just… I needed…”

You felt Daryl shift and quickly found yourself pressed against his chest, his arm around your back while his other hand pressed against the back of your head. He had hugged you before but this? This was different. He didn’t say anything but you already knew that he wasn’t good with words, especially when it came to expressing emotion. So he was offering you this comfort.

And you accepted it without a second thought, crying hard while your hands fisted the material of his leather vest. The more you trembled, the tighter he held you. It was as if he was trying to keep you from shaking apart but somehow you knew that even if you did, he would pick up the pieces and put you together again.

After a long while, your tears had all but stopped, leaving you a sniffling, tired mess in his arms. He didn’t seem to care but had loosened his hold slightly and was rubbing small circles over your back while you collected yourself.

Now came the shame. “I’m sorry.” You managed quickly while you pulled away from him. His hands hovered for a moment like you would fall apart again any moment but he soon let them fall onto his knees.

“What for?”

You could see him trying to catch your gaze from the corner of your eye as you wiped angrily at your face. “I know what I did was stupid.”

“It weren’t stupid, Y/N.” Daryl said softly. You remembered when he had used that same softness when he had first seen the proof of your self mutilation. You nodded but didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, you went back to staring at the stars, even though you could feel him still staring at you.

“I don’t hate them, you know.” You finally said. With a sigh, you braved a glance at him. He was still watching you, expression unreadable but not hard. “My scars.” Daryl nodded for you to continue. “I had a lot of battles and they are proof of that but… I won.” You looked away and shrugged with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m still here.”

“M’glad.” He replied quickly, drawing your gaze back to him. “That you’re still here.”

You smiled again. It was small but this time, it was genuine. “Me too.” You watched each other for a few moments and you couldn’t help but notice him draw his bottom lip in between his teeth to gnaw at it. As you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, he pushed himself off the step to stand.

“C’mon.” Daryl jerked his head toward your front door. Your brow knitted in confusion but you stood and crossed the small distance to the door.

“Daryl?”

“I wanna show ya somethin’.” He answered when his name had barely left your lips. Daryl reached in front of you to pull open the screen door and motioned for you to enter first. You could hear the deep, steadying breath he took as he followed you inside and began closing your door. “Ya trusted me with yours. I wanna trust ya with mine.”

[7ndipity]

After a fight

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: When Joon gives you the silent treatment after a fight, you start to fear for the future of your relationship

Warnings: angst, swearing, not proofread

A/N: I meant to post this request last night, but I got stuck and ugh. We've had a little bit of a theme with the angsty requests this week, huh? I need to go write smth fluffy now, lol (Also, omg we just 500 followers?!)

Masterlist

Requests are open

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Stupid. It was just a stupid fight. You kept thinking to yourself as you paced around your empty apartment, watching as yet another hour ticked by without a word from Joon.

The two of you had gotten into a argument that morning over something small that didn't even really matter, and certainly didn't deserve the level of intensity that you had both responded with. You'd both said things you shouldn't have, resulting in Namjoon leaving for the studio without so much as a goodbye, slamming the door behind him.

Once you'd had some time to cool down though, you had realized how you had let things get out of hand and had texted him, saying that you shouldn't have lost your temper, and to please call you. But each message had been met with stony silence.

At first, you'd understood his lack of responses, he was upset and needed time as well, but as one hour had rolled into another, and then another, you could feel a sinking weight beginning to form in your stomach.

It certainly wasn't the first time you'd fought, but it was the first time that he'd gone this long without at least checking in on you, which began to make you worry that maybe you had pushed too far this time.

By this point, it was now late in the evening and with still no word from him, your fears were starting to eat away at you as you grew more anxious.

What if it was one stupid fight too many? What if he had decided he'd had enough?

Tears burning your eyes at the thought, you sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as you wept.

"Y/n?"

You hadn't heard the front door open, but you were now very aware of his eyes and hands on you, as he checked you over for any sign of injury or illness. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry." You said, trying to fight back a sob. "I-I shouldn't have said any of those things to you. You can be mad at me, I'm just so sorry."

"Shit." He sighed, now understanding and pulling you into his hold. "I'm sorry too, baby."

The two of you sat together, mumbling apologies to each other as you fought to get your emotions back under control.

"This morning, what I said-" You started, but he was quick to stop you.

"Let's just forget about this morning?" He suggested, sensing your lingering guilt.

"I would love that." You said. "I love you."

"I love you too." He said. "I'm sorry I didn't call earlier."

" 's okay." You sniffled.

"It's not. I should've just talked to you, instead of storming of like that."

"I thought we were gonna forget about that?" You poked him, making him finally crack a smile.

"Alright then. Did you eat yet? Wanna order something?"

"Mhm." You agreed, letting him pick whatever he wanted. So long as you could stay close together, you were fine with anything.

[darylscvmdumpster]

daryl dixon - it’s you.

warnings: walkers, violence, daryl being an asshole, sixty-nine, daryl being an absolute munch, swearing, spitting, biting, smacking, fingering, choking, degrading, unprotected rough angry sex. prison era s4.

3.3k words

“oh i’m the brat? you’re the one thats complaining.” you stormed out of your cell, following daryl. rick had told you and daryl that y’all had to go on a run together.

you and daryl never got along. there is always this tension between you two that you can’t pinpoint. when rick had told you, you were just as mad as daryl but you didn’t complain. daryl on the other hand had complained to rick about how annoying you were and that you were a complete brat.

“ya always fussin’ bout somethin’. don’t ya know when to shut ya trap.” he takes a drag from whatever he had in his mouth before looking up at you. just like in the gif. he was good looking beyond belief. would you ever say it out loud? hell no.

i looked back at him to notice he never took his eyes off of me. you broke the eye contact. mumbling a “fuck you” as i walked back into the prison to start getting ready for the run. you loaded your gun and slipped it into your waistband and put your knife in its little holder on your thigh.

you looked over your shoulder as carol came into your cell. “be safe out there, sweetie and try not to kill daryl.” you rolled your eyes and huffed out. “ill be safe but i can’t guarantee that last part, maybe ill feed him to the walkers.”

you hear a knock on the concrete wall and you looked up. “let’s go.” daryl huffed out and then turned on his heel and walked out. “ill see you later, carol” you threw your bag over your shoulder and headed out.

you stopped as soon as you got out. “no fucking way.” daryl was on his bike, not in a car, on his fucking bike. where i would have to physically touch him, breathe him in.

“come on, y/n cant ya just cooperate.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “can’t you be fuckin’ normal and get in a car?” you grabbed the keys off of the door. he gave you a look that only meant that he wasn’t gonna budge.

“please just this once.”

he rolled his eyes and killed the engine to the bike. “fuckin’ bitch” he muttered under his breath. “i heard you asshole.” i walked to the grey suv. daryl following my tracks, just as i was about to open the door daryl pins me to the car.

“what’s your problem with me.” our faces inches away from each other. “let me go, daryl.” his face got closer. “answer my question first.” his eyes dropped to your lips before it came back up to your eyes.

a moment of silence passed before carl came running out. “y/n, you forgot..” daryl pushed off of the car. “sorry, if i interrupted.” daryl walked around and got in the passenger side. “no you didn’t interrupt. what’d you need?”

he handed you a gun. “you forgot it.” he ran back inside. you opened the door to the car and sighed. this was gonna be a long, long drive.

daryl had bitched the entire ride to the rundown store and now he was bitching for some unknown reason. “you bitch a whole lot for someone who said i was always fussing about something.”

“ ‘m not bitchin’ bout anything.” he grumbled. you looked over at him and sighed. “you asked what my problem is, whats yours? you always give me shit for every little thing.”

he pushed me against the side of the store we just left. putting his hands on both sides of my head so i was trapped. “ya wanna know what my problem is?” you throat moved as you very visibly gulped.

“it’s you.” he looked back at my lips, just like earlier but this time he looked linger. when his eyes came back up they were filled with something. lust. “you’re always bitching about something. always pushin’ my buttons. making me want ‘t bend you over a table and fuck ya’ dumb.”

you hated what he did to you. he turned you on when he shouldn’t at times he shouldn’t have. when he was killing walkers and his muscles flexed just the right way in the right lighting. when he was doing something to his bike and he was all greasy and sweaty. it shouldn’t turn you on but it does.

“do it.” you said in a whisper barely audible, but he heard you. his lips crashed onto yours. a rough, hot steamy kiss. all of y’alls built up anger and frustration put into a kiss.

his hands came up and picked you up by your thighs. one arm holding you up and the other groping your ass. you moaned into the kiss. his mouth leaving yours and traveling down your neck, leaving very prominent hickeys.

you didn’t want this moment to end. no matter how much you two fought, or screamed at each other, you knew how you felt about him. he was misunderstood, he felt like he didn’t belong anywhere. you knew that because thats how you felt too. you two “hated” each other because y’all were so alike.

daryl gently put you down. he took off your knife holder that was placed around your thigh, next was your shorts. you stopped his hand as they came around your waist.

“wait.” he opened his mouth to talk before you out your hand flew to his mouth shutting him up. “do you hear that?” faint snarls coming from around the store y’all we at.

he stood up taking your hand from his mouth and huffed out. “damn, walkers ruinin’ all ma fun” he picked up his bow and handed you your knife holder.

“we have to go” you tapped him, signaling walkers in the distance. we walked to the car. daryl got in the drivers seat this time. i got into the passenger seat and closed the door. only to be pulled over the console and into daryls lap.

“what’re you doing?”

he kissed me and locked the doors to make sure no walkers tried getting in. his hands were everywhere. everything he touched it felt like my skin was on fire. i loved his touch. no matter how much he said he hated me, i knew deep down it wasn’t true.

he let the seat back. his hands resting on your ass. “your pretty for a brat y’know tha” he pushed you towards him so know y’all were chest to chest. kissing you hard once again. he pushed your hips down into his. your mouth falling open as a moan slips out.

taking this opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth, making your mouth his. “so sexy.” he grumbled out. his hands moving upwards taking off my tank top pushing over my head and throwing it into the passenger seat.

“ya have a nice pair of tits” i laughed and rolled my eyes. i placed my hands at the base of his vest and shirt and slipped it off of him, throwing it over in the passenger seat with my shirt.

i grinned down at him before grinding down on him, earning a groan from him. his body was god like i ran my hands up and down his chest.

“i wanna try something.” i broke the silence. he looked at me with a look that said ‘what’re you up to’. i lifted my hips and took of my shorts leaving a shocked expression on daryl’s face when he saw that i wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“what? its the end of the world. i don’t have lots of underwear.” he shook his head not protesting. my hands going to the button of his jeans unbuttoning them. pulling them and his boxers down to pool around his feet.

sitting back on his thigh trying to figure out how i’m gonna do this. “stay laying down” i pushed at his chest trying to turn myself around. sighing in defeat. “a-little help?”

daryl laughed and helped turn me around. minutes later we finally did it. i got up on my hands and knees trying to scoot back but instead hit my head on the wheel honking the horn. “fuck.”

daryl taking my hips and guiding them to his face. “ya have a nice pussy too.” before bringing it down on his mouth. he teased my hole with his tongue before moving up and sucking my clit. all the sudden pressure on my clit made me forget what i was supposed to be doing, making me a mess.

“ya gon’ do somethin’ or ya jus’ gonna look at it” he stopped his motion and slapped my ass. i took his shaft in my hand and started to pump it. his mouth went back to my heat.

i took his tip into my mouth, sucking it before i took the rest of him in my mouth. he was making it really hard to focus on sucking him off when he was making me feel the best i’ve felt in years.

i moaned around his length causing him to buck his hips, making me gag. "mm, i've got ya" his voice getting deeper, rumbling deep into his chest as he allows two thick fingers to slide into your slick hole.

"oh.." you moan as you toss your head back, legs twitching as they threaten to close around his head. daryl only grunts before his fingers are moving, hooking them everytime they slide out to target your spot, thumb brushing against your throbbing clit. his pace is slow and tedious, dragging out the sensation until you forget your name.

your orgasm moving in closer than you thought, his teasing actions having more of an effect on your body than the rushed ones you've endured, this felt stronger and harder to hold back.

i took his cock farther down my throat, eager to get him to get his release. occasionally sucking his length, your hands doing most of the work but his tongue was driving you to a fast release and it felt amazing. your head flew up, your moans and panting traveled in the little car space.

your hips bucked and daryl’s hand smacked your ass cheek hard before he pulled you down to him as if he was trying to suffocate on your slick while you came.

“think ya can finish me off, brat?” he said smacking your already sore and red ass. you nod your head and go back to sucking him off. bobbing your head up and down, spit dribbling dow your chin and making a mess of daryl’s cock.

his hands kneading your soft, sore red flesh. his groans getting louder and he starts to buck up into your throat. grunts, groans, and gagging all to be heard throughout the car.

you could tell he was getting close by the way he was thrusting into your mouth and his groans. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” he starts to use your throat making you gag and moan around him.

he threw his head back and his motions stilled as he shot his load of hot sticky cum in my mouth. he pulls out and i swallow it.

the car ride was silent, nothing could be heard except our breathing and the wind as we drove down the roads. daryl slowed the car as we pulled up to the prison and we were met by carl and carol.

when the car came to a complete stop you were first to hop out. walking to your cell, not sparing daryl another glance. you pulled out the milk crate that had your clothes in it. pulling out some underwear, a brush and clothes before going to the showers.

you caught rick on the way out of your cell. “hey rick, do you have any towels and rags left? i’m out.” he nodded and led the way to where his things were. when you got there he handed you a clean rag and towel.

“thanks” you were about to leave before rick spoke up. “what took you and daryl so long on that run?” your face got got heated and you tried to speak but no words came out.

he laughed and shook his head. “have anything to do with these?” he moved your hair and touched the dark purple mark on your neck.

you pushed past rick saying you had to shower. you entered the showering room and heard a shower on already but that didn’t bother you it was normal, until you heard him.

“ya following me or somethin’?” you turn around and are met with daryl. “no, i just came to shower.” your eyes raked over his body, taking it all in. his wet hair clung to his face and a towel that hung dangerously low on his waist.

when your eyes traveled back up they met his. “i’m just gonna, y’know” you pointed towards the shower and turned around to get in. he was still standing there, watching you.

“do you mind?” you set your stuff down and turned the shower on. he still stood there saying nothing and staring at you. you turned around and took off your clothes stepping into the water.

you didn’t even care that he was there, he seen you earlier it’s no different now. you ran your hands through your hair, feeling the water hit your face. you turned around to see if daryl was still there only to find out he left.

you washed the walker blood, sweat and the activities from earlier off of you. after a few minutes, i turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel and wringing out my hair.

i threw on a shirt and knew it wasn’t mine with how big it was. i slipped on a pair of panties and some shorts before walking back to my cell. you closed the cell door and got laid in your bed, hoping you could get some sleep.

you closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but all you could think about was daryl, about earlier. the loud sound of metal screeching made you shoot up. “m’sorry for wakin’ you.” he came in and shut the cell door. “i wasn’t sleeping. i couldn’t.” he sat on your makeshift — the two thin mattresses from the prison beds on the floor — bed.

he looked at you, the same look from earlier. lust. he pulled you over onto his lap. “y’know i fuckin’ hate you” he said before he closed the space between us, kissing me hard.

i needed him everywhere. i was grinding down on his lap. his lips connected with my neck, leaving love bites all over.

i quietly moaned out. his hands traveled down to my shorts, slipping one hand under the waistband. he brought his lips back to mine giving me another rough kiss.

his hand pushing past my thong. teasing my clit as he worked his way to my slippery hole. he slipped his thick fingers into my heat, almost immediately starting to fuck yourself on his fingers

his finger’s matching your pace. he pulled back from our kiss and smirked. “you’re so eager.” he took his hands out of your shorts and laid you down on your bed.

“lift your hips” he tugged at your shorts. you did as he said and lifted your hips for him. “such an obedient whore for someone who hates me so much.” he tossed your shorts somewhere beside you.

“fuck you” you gasped out. he came back up kissing you, biting your lip. moving his way down your body. he lifted your shirt over your head, throwing it wherever he threw your shorts.

he took a nipple into his mouth, his hand going down to rub my clit through my underwear. “fuck” i moaned. i bit my lip to suppress all the noise i was making, seeing as though there were people trying to sleep in the rooms next to mine.

a harsh slap got delivered to my face. “i want to hear your moans.” i shook my head, disobeying what he said. he stopped everything he was doing. another harsh slap. i still didn’t budge.

“now you don’t want to fuckin’ listen.” he wrapped his hand around your neck squeezing, not to much so he didn’t hurt you. no matter how much he claimed to hate you, he never wanted to hurt you.

gasping for air you open your mouth. “i don’t want them to hear.” his hand unwrapped from your throat. “i don’t give a shit.” he went back down and yanked your lacy thongs down and took no time putting his head between your thighs.

licking and sucking on your clit as your hands tangled in his messy hair. your back arching off of the mattress. “oh fuck daryl.”

his fingers collected the slick from your heat as he pushed his thick digits into you. all the pleasure you were getting was overwhelming because this is the first time in years since you’ve done this.

“i- fuck. daryl im gonna..” he pulled his fingers out and stopped sucking. you whimpered from the loss of contact. “daryl” you whimpered. he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them and his boxers down, kicking them off.

he was big. i looked up at him and he smirked. “you like what you see?” he grabbed me by my hips and pulled me closer to him. “shut up and fuck me.”

he lined himself up with my entrance and pushed in. we both hissed as he sunk into me. “you’re so damn tight” he huffed out. he started to pound mercilessly into me.

“oh, fuck.” i squealed out. daryl came down and bit my shoulder to keep his groans contained. i tried to keep my moans contained but it was all too much and i couldn’t keep them in.

“daryl” i moaned probably loud enough for the entire cell block to hear me. he was biting down so hard i think he drew blood. i tear slipped down my cheek. “what’re you cryin’ for” he continued to mercilessly pound into you.

“i- oh god.” he was hitting the perfect spot. “right there, fuck.” he put your leg on his shoulder, your mouth hanging open. no words came out, only pure sounds of pleasure.

“i’m gonna cum.” daryl’s hand came up to your mouth. “open.” he demanded and you did. he spit into your mouth. his finger tracing your jaw. “swallow it.”

you did as he said. his trusts were getting sloppy and you could tell he was close as-well by the way he was groaning and breathing.

“you gon’ cum with me? hmm? you gonna cum on my cock?” he pounded harder. i was practically screaming at this point. “yes, please make me cum. please daryl.” this is the first and the last time he will ever hear you beg.

the familiar knot in my stomach building up. daryl hitting the same spot over and over again until the tension in my stomach finally released. daryl following right behind me as he let his seed spill into me and rolled off of me.

we laid there for a couple minutes in silence, just listening to each others breaths. “you still hate me?” i turned my head to look at him. he was smiling like an idiot. “shut up, daryl.”

after a moment of silence, i huffed out. “i never hated you.” i smiled and climbed on top of him. he smiled back. “s’that so” i nodded my head with a mhm before closing the gap between us.

this kiss wasn’t angry, it wasn’t rough, it was sweet and gentle. “daryl dixon, i’ve done nothing but love you since i laid eyes on you.”

his hands resting on your hips tracing circles. “ya love me?” he looked into your eyes. you nod and smile a bit. “i wanna hear you say it again.” he smiled.

“i love you, daryl dixon.” he kissed me after i finished my sentence. “i love ya, too, y/n.” he pulled me closer to him. kissing me all over my face.

“wanna go for round two?” i laughed and dropped my head to his chest. “anything for you, mr. dixon.”

in the morning, you woke up with his arms around you and his face buried in your neck. you look to your side and grab your shirt and shorts and sit up. being careful to not wake daryl up. you slip on the shirt and you wiggle the shorts on getting up.

you walk out of the cell and make your way to the cafeteria, where you were met with the rest of the group. “morning” rick says. “good morning” the group was all looking at you while you made your food. “i’m surprised she can still stand.” carl said making the group laugh and rick to hit the back of his head.

you sat down at the table. “how’d you sleep” carol asked. “if she did get any sleep.” glenn said. your eyes shot up from your food. “what did you say?” she looked at glenn who’s hands shot up and he acted as if he hadn’t said anything.

daryl walked into the room causing everyone to look his way. “wha, i got somethin’ on my face or sum?” he made his way over to where i was sitting and sat next to me.

maggie walked in and came behind glenn. “you two think you could keep it down at night? some people actually try to get sleep.”

my face became red and daryl laughed. “m’bad i tried to shut ‘er up but she don’ listen.” i put my hands on my face and shake my head.

“so i’m taking this as you two are alrigh’ now, no more fightin?” rick said. me and daryl both nodded our heads. “yea, no more fightin’ for now.” daryl looked over at me and pulled me closer to him by my waist and he kissed my forehead.

this is..idk. lmk your opinion. im gonna try to figure out a schedule to post on but yeah. you should def. checkout my stories on wattpad (darylscvmdumpster) im not as active on there tho!

[cloudy-em]

Hi, that's me again😅

So... my other idea for Lip is: (again with relatively shy reader, because I love the thrope a lot) the reader and Lip are already in a relationship, one day someone teases her a little too much on the sexual theme (they haven't had sex yet so she's a bit insecure about it) he notices, he defends her, and once they're alone he starts to joke around, teases her in a sweet way, to make her feel more comfortable to talk about it. (She is not a virgin, she's just not that experienced)

Hope you like this one, if not. It's okay, I promise😂

another great idea! <3

personally i don't celebrate thanksgiving but i remember an episode from one of the earlier seasons of them doing a thanksgiving meal which is very convenient for this so it's loosely based on that

warnings: sexual comments, innuendos, Mickey's kinda being an ass but his comments aren't ill-intended

xxxxxxxxxx

The Gallagher household was bustling with activity. Fiona and V were in the kitchen, finishing up some last minute food preparations while Kevin was entertaining Carl and some of his friends in the yard with games. Ian was fixing drinks for everyone, desperately trying to find Debbie to figure out what she wanted (she was in her room, Mandy braiding her hair for her so she could impress Little Hank). Lip was finishing up a project for some sophomore who'd offered to pay him $100, and Liam was sitting patiently in his high chair. Y/N did her best to help out by setting the table, ensuring there were enough chairs and that everyone had all the proper utensils.

Mickey walked in the front door, beer in hand and flopped down, watching as Y/N reached across to the other side of the table to put a fork next to the plate. Mickey whistled like a boy in a 60s tv show.

"Damn, I bet you're used to that position," he quipped, taking another swig or his beer. Y/N looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows.

Mickey shrugged. "You know, cause I'm sure Philip bends you over pretty often." Y/N realized his implications, blushing and looking away. Mickey laughed, much more comfortable on the subject of sex than she was. "I'm sure Fiona's had to schedule time out of the house with the rest of the kids just to give you two some 'alone time'!"

Y/N grew increasingly uncomfortable. She wasn't a virgin or a puritan, but she and Lip hadn't had sex yet. They hadn't had a conversation about it or anything, but she wanted to wait a while and Lip had never brought it up with her.

Mickey laughed, "Look, kid, don't have to hide anything, we've all walked in on Lip with one of his hookups before." He paused for dramatic effect.

"Besides, it's always the shy one's who are the kinkiest!"

Y/N looked away, trying not to pay him any more mind and focus on her task. Lip walked down the stairs having finished with the sophomore's project, and immediately noticed something was off. His girlfriend was shy, sure, but she never bowed her head as low as she had.

"Hey, Lip!" Mickey called, teasing. Lip looked at him, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Maybe you should go out back and have quickie with your girl, get 'er to stop bein' such a priss." Lip realized what was wrong, walking over to his blushing girlfriend and placing his arm around her waist.

"Fuck off," Lip sighed. "Y/N isn't a priss, she just doesn't think the whole world needs to know about her sex life like you and Ian seem to."

Mickey raised his arms in surrender, "'Kay, fuck, Gallagher, it was all teasing, no harm meant!" He got up from his seat and went to the kitchen, presumably to grab another beer.

"C'mon, baby," Lip said softly, squeezing Y/N's waist and guiding her up to his room. He sat with her on the edge of Ian's bed, holding her hand and rubbing his calloused thumb on the back of it.

"I'm sorry he was messin' with you, baby," he whispered. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Anything I can do for you?" He emphasized his apology by pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

"No, just," she paused, thinking about how she wanted to phrase her next sentence. "Do you ever, I don't know, feel like I'm holding you back?"

Lip had a puzzled look on his face. "Whatd'ya mean, hon?"

"Well with like, you know," she sighed, pulling her hand away from Lip to hide her face. "We haven't had sex and I feel like that's my fault." She heard him chuckle quietly, her embarrassment seeping into her soul even more.

"Baby," he cooed, wrapping his arms around her in a hug as she continued to hide her face. "It's nobody's fault. We haven't talked about it yet! That's the most important part of any relationship, and that's taken me a while to learn. I figured you'd bring it up when you were ready. I didn't want you to feel pressured."

She looked up at him, eyes wide and glazed over, on the verge of tears because of her embarrassment. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," he nodded like he had given an order to the universe.

"I thought that maybe you weren't attracted to me or that you thought I wasn't good enough," she whispered.

"Me? Not attracted to you? Aw babe!" he laughed, nose touching hers in a loving exchange. "A pretty thing like you deserves to be worshipped. When we have sex, I'm takin' my time with you."

She giggled at his compliment, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

"Oh, what you don't believe me? I've wanted to sleep with pretty girl forever, I just wanted to make sure she's ready for me," he smiled at her. The more he complimented her, easing in sex references, the more comfortable she felt on the subject. He had waited for her! He didn't think she was a prude or anything, he just had respect for her; he cared for her. She felt warmth in her chest as she processed the conversation. Lip kissed her nose briefly, helping her stand up from the bed.

"And try not to let Mickey get you down. He's just like that and assumes everyone else is comfortable talking about their sex life the way he does. I'll warn him to dial it down when he's around you, though," Lip told her, looking into her eyes to make sure she knew he was serious.

"Thanks, Lip. I love you," she told him, hugging him again.

"I love you, too, Y/N. Now, we'll talk more about us and our boundaries and moving forward later," he told her, trying to help her be more comfortable discussing sex with him. "But right now I think we've got a dinner to be at."

xxxxxx

thanks for reading! sorry about me projecting a lil bit in lip and reader's conversation lol, i just think it's really important to have these conversations with your partners and i think lip, despite being all tough and "not sappy" (but he totally is) really cares about discussing boundaries with his partner

have a great day!

[inamagicalhallucination]

The air was cool as Atsushi walked side by side with Ryuunosuke. It was a lovely day to be outside, that was what Atsushi had told Ryuunosuke to convince him to leave. Not that he'd need much convincing, for all that he pouted, Ryuunosuke was always willing to do the things Atsushi fancied.

It was getting colder now, but not enough for it to be uncomfortable. Perhaps there was a time where Atsushi would enjoy getting to live through the seasons, getting to feel them around him.

He looked at Ryuunosuke. He was wearing a warmer jacket, his hair was moving slightly in the wind. His face was serious, concentrated on making sure they walked the best trail. He was very lovely. Atsushi was so lucky to be loved by him, to love him. Even if this was all tentative and new.

Atsushi should feel elated, he did feel elated.

He reached over, just barely, but Ryuunosuke grabbed his hand anyway.

/

Atsushi buried his face into Ryuunosuke's neck as the two swayed to the music. They'd had dinner at Ryuunosuke's apartment and ended up like this, floating through the living room. Ryuunosuke didn't like to dance, but he liked to hold Atsushi.

How lovely. How beautiful it was to be loved by him Atsushi thought. He held on tighter wishing he could somehow melt into him so that they could be one. So that when Ryuunosuke was hurt, Atsushi would hurt too, when he was sad Atsushi would cry too.

Atsushi loved Ryuunosuke, far more than he thought it was possible to love anything or anyone. He loved him with each steady beat of his heart. He loved him in the way he knew he'd never love anyone again.

Ryuunosuke's hands on his waist, his breath on his shoulder. Concentrate. Concentrate. On him, alive, heart beating -- Atsushi could hear it.

For a second, Atsushi could pretend this was forever.

RYuunosuke pulled back enough to dip him and laughed at his surprised expression.

/

There were a lot of things Atsushi shared with Ryuunosuke he did not know were shareable before. Like baths, like now, with his back to Ryuunosuke's chest, the bubbly water around them.

Ryuunosuke used to hate baths. Or at least the vulnerability he felt without his ability. He trusted Atsushi though. Opened up that part of him, every part of him, and let Atsushi step inside, safe and warm. Trusted him to keep him safe like Atsushi did with him.

Atsushi wished he could take every burden, every sad thought away from him.

I love you, he whispered. Ryuunosuke smiled as he kissed the top of his head.

/

The clock kept on ticking, time kept on moving. Atsushi wanted more time. He wanted to be with Ryuunosuke as they grew old. Wanted them to have other summers, other falls, other winters and many springs together.

He wished he'd met him earlier, wished he'd had more time. Wished he could focus on the now and be satisfied that he got to be loved and got to love him. But all he wanted was more time. A month more, a day more, a year more. Just a little.

How unfair that Ryuunosuke was meant to be lost by him, right when he found him.

Ryuunosuke smiled that sad smile, wiped Atsushi's tears and pulled him close. Atsushi took a deep breath and let himself love with all the sorrow in his heart.

Ryuunosuke had told him it would be better for Atsushi to move on. But Atsushi knew he'd regret every second he didn't have with him and wanted to love him as much as he could. He didn't regret that. Didn't regret any moment between them, even with Ryuunosuke's illness hanging over them.

But he wished it could be longer. He wished that when Ryuunosuke died, he'd take him with him.

But Ryuunosuke would go with the winter snow, and Atsushi would be left behind.

[techtalksfics]

If I had known... (Tech x f!reader)

Summary: The reader finds out that the boys had headed off treasure hunting with Phee. Jealousy, a shame spiral and soft confessions ensue.

Warnings: a little soft, fluffy love, some drinking (I swear not all of my future stories will involve drunken stupidity), some anxiety vibes.

Author's note: sorry that this was delayed, between the illness and the job applications, it's been a busy week! I hope this is not awful!

Word Count: 5.7K (oops)

Now Available: Part Two

After your shift ended, you wandered towards Cid's, bag over your shoulder, expecting to find your favourite clones relaxing between missions. That is where they had told you they would be.

Yet, when you arrived, you found the bar to deserted. Looking very much like it did in the days before the Bad Batch came crashing into your world. Why was the bar empty?

You put your bag behind the bar, out of sight and frowned. You checked your comm device for messages - the screen lit up with no new messages. No messages meant they hadn't been sent off on another mission. You walked towards the back office, hoping Cid could shed some light. Perhaps they had left for a mission in a hurry, you pondered. They normally tell you when they are heading off world. 'There is enough time between the planning and supply runs, to keep you apprised of our whereabouts', as Tech had told you. You thought they certainly would have told you tonight, particularly when you had made plans for dinner with Tech.

"Hey Cid," you sighed as her door opened. She was behind her desk, holoscreen open and was highlighting her worst features. She closed it suddenly as you entered her office. She really needed to remind you lot of manners and how not to get too comfortable in her bar. "Have you seen the guys? I was supposed to see Tech this evening."

Now that Cid thought about it, she really should've seen this coming. They'd all left in such a hurry and you were really not going to like her answer.

"They've headed off world searching for some kind of treasure," she rolled her eyes and stood. "Typical, that they'd scarper just as a new mission came in." As she walked around her desk toward you, she sighed and gave you the piece of information you were missing, "they went off with Phee earlier this afternoon." Your whole body stilled at that.

"With Phee?!" You couldn't help that her name left your throat with almost loth-cat screech. You weren't the type to get jealous, particularly when you knew Tech wasn't even your boyfriend. He was just your friend but there was still something about her unashamed flirting with him on their first encounter that continued to rub you the through way. All these many, many months later.

"Come on, kid," you felt the sharp edge of Cid's clawed fingers wrap around your shoulder, "I get the feeling, you could use a drink around about now."

Three very strong drinks in, you found yourself with your head resting on your knuckles and slightly propped up by the pillar beside you. It was as if all of your muscle had gone into your complaining and the walls presence was the only thing keeping you in your seat. "-and it's not even like he's my boyfriend or anything. He doesn't have to tell me where he's going or who he's going with." You sighed, lifting the almost empty glass to your lips. After take a sip, you continued your tirade, "it's just way she calls him brown eyes." You did your best to imitate her unique accent, which caused Cid to roll her eyes. The way she had the first time she'd heard the nickname. "They all have brown eyes," you continued, trying to ignore the onslaught of looks you were getting from Cid as you talked and talked. "Yes, his eyes are phenotypically normal for a clone but there is something so distinct in the way his eyes express what he is saying and thinking. It's the fact that she sees that too."

"Kid," Cid's voice was stern and your head snapped up to look at her once more, "face it, you've got it bad. So instead of whining at me about it, why don't you actually do something about it. Tell Goggles how you feel."

"I can't tell him how I feel!" You retorted. Cid let out an exasperated, 'oh brother.' "I'm just this little nobody who grew up on Ord Mantell, because her parents didn't want her and he's..."

"A clone?" She finished for you. "That's all he has ever known how to be. Try to remember that, kid, okay?" You shook your head and asked for another drink. She put another in front of you, though she wasn't convinced that she had made the right decision in doing so. She shook her head and walked away, mumbling something about 'there not being enough credits in galaxy for her to deal with this'.

None of what she said stopped you from downing several more drinks and seeking out Bolo and Ketch, who were playing Dejarik in the far corner of the room. Truthfully, if you'd asked them, they would say with absolute certainty that they were trying to not get involved in your chatter. But you just drunk enough to not care about that. You sat, hugging the backwards chair, legs spread across its frame and mumbling on about Phee and Tech as they continued their match. "It's not as they wouldn't make sense together," you continued where your thoughts had been left with Cid, "the mercenary and the pilot. The fact and the fiction. They'd be like a perfectly..." you burped out the bubbles from your drink in the most unladylike manner and continued, "a perfectly balanced knife of intergalactic trouble."

Bolo and Ketch simply looked at each other in utter confusion and then looked up at you, completely perplexed and unable to utter one useful word to you. This was well outside their area of expertise. You sighed. Again.

"Alright," Cid's voice came booming into the room as she re-entered the main bar from her office, "you've had enough." You must have been on your sixth drink by this point. "Come on, up you get," she'd already grabbed your bag from behind the bar and was ushering you towards the door, "go home, sober up," she pointed her finger at you with a stern glare set in her eyes, "and don't come back until you've fixed this 'woe is me' attitude. You're bringing down my clientele."

As you stumbled up the steps, you placed your hand on the hall and sighed. God this was a new low, you whined to yourself.

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

Omega was the first to stop you at the end of the alley. As soon as you had seen them, you had frozen in space. They had returned and the boys were clearly en route to Cid's with Phee. Visions of the last night you had been in there came flooding back to your mind. Oh god, you panicked, what if Cid told Tech about what had happened?

You wouldn't exactly put that past her.

You looked at Phee with despair in your eyes, she had her arm around a rather tense looking Sergeant. She was rambling off about something, her other arm was above her head and she exclaimed something you couldn't quite hear. Her voice certainly does travel and it certainly kept you routed in your spot.

Tech was walking just behind them and you weren't convinced he was listening to Phee talk in any shape or form. He was tinkering away on his comm device. You knew, right then, you had been a complete and utter fool. A completely smitten, idiotic fool.

Yet, you couldn't move. You couldn't convince yourself to move towards them, to shout out or make yourself known in any way. You couldn't face them.

Omega called out your name and, in the horror of seeing Tech's neck snap up to look for you, you instantly turned on your heel and ran back around the corner of the building. You could barely breathe, as those brown eyes flittered through your mind. Those beautiful, intelligent brown eyes. They were unique - no matter what he said. They were so wonderfully, uniquely Tech.

"Omega - WAIT!" You heard Hunter's stern yell. She was running after you and here you were, hiding and clutching your chest, unable to breathe. How were you going to explain this one, you groaned to yourself internally.

You heard Omega closing in on your as she called out your name again. She reached the corner and spotted you, almost jolting back as she saw you. Concern instantly washed over her features and she saw you in a thousand pieces in front of her. "Wh-what's wrong?" She questioned almost immediately and you knew you couldn't tell her the truth.

Oh, I just saw Tech and Phee and my heart just completely faltered in a stupid agony. Yeah, no - you definitely couldn't say that.

"Nothing, Omega, I'm okay. Honest," you thought you'd try.

"No, you're not."

"N-no, I'm not." You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself enough to get yourself out of this mess. You realised that the easiest way out of this was to run right through it, with your partner in crime, Omega. "Hey, do you reckon Hunter would let you run off with me for a bit? I could use some air."

"We are outside," she said with a delightfully innocent chuckle, "there's quite a lot of air out here."

"Heh -" was the only sound that left your throat, "doesn't feel like it." Reaching your hand up to your forehead, you wiped the sweat that drenched your brow. You were a mess. An utter, idiotic mess. "Let's go get some better air, Omega."

In that moment, it was clear that Omega knew you needed something, she just wasn't quite sure what that was. She played along - as she always did. You took another deep breath as Omega ran back towards Hunter at the other end of the alley. You assumed she went to explain where she was going and you heard his deep baritone announce 'alright, but don't be long'. You imagined him pointing his finger at her, fatherly fashion activated.

You took another deep breath.

But then you heard it. You heard Tech speak softly to Omega and you tried so hard not to listen. 'Is she okay?' You heard, 'does she require medical assistance?'

Oh Tech, you silly fool, you quipped to yourself. You didn't hear Omega's response but before long, she reappeared at your side, offering you her dainty hand. She asked where you were going. With a smile, you took her hand and said "let's go check out the best view in Ord Mantell."

You headed out towards the docking yard together. The Marauder sat neatly alongside a handful of other ships, currently being refuelled.

Heading over to the wall, you started to climb ladder after ladder until you reached the top landing pad. You sat yourself down, with Omega at your side. There was a gentle breeze settling in around you as the sun began to set over Ord Mantell. The orange and purple haze of the distant sunset bore across your skin as you settled down. Breathe in and breathe out. That's all you had to do.

Neither of you spoke right away, though you could tell that Omega had a lot of questions about what she had just seen in that alleyway. You close your eyes, simply enjoying the breeze.

"Are you gonna -" You smile, and cut her off.

"I'll tell you Omega," you lolled your head to the side and looked down at her. "But you cannot, and I mean cannot, repeat what you hear to the others. Deal?"

"Why would I tell the others? Are you in danger?" She queried.

"Do we have a deal?" You quirked your eyebrow at her, raising your hand towards her, for dramatic effect. As she shook it, you nodded your head decisively at her. "I..." you started and then sighed. You had found yourself sighing a lot in recent days. "I like Tech. A lot. Cid told me you lot had been off with Phee and I acted stupid and jealous about it. Drank a bit too much, talked a bit too much. So when I saw you lot, I guess I was, well, embarrassed... to say the least."

"You...like..." Omega began to process the information, repeating it in almost the exact tone it had been said. Poor child, you had just dumped far too much information on her. "Tech?"

"Yes."

"So... you hid." She queried.

"Yep."

"Even though you knew he'd seen you."

"Yes again."

"Even though that probably drew more attention than doing nothing."

"Yes. That is about the size of it, yes." You chuckled as she looked at you in confusion. "Hey, I said you couldn't tell them. I didn't say any of it would make sense."

There was a wonderfully natural laughter that settled between the two of you and you felt your cheeks heat up from the sheer embarrassment of the whole situation. She asked you why you felt the need to hide. "Because, all of a sudden, I felt my entire body collapse at the mere sight of a man and that terrified me. It all terrified me." You prayed she didn't ask you why.

"But why?"

Damn it, you internally cursed. You should've remembered her inquisitive nature was destined to be a nightmare here. When you didn't speak and instead settled your gaze back on the sunset, she continued, "you've never had a problem around Tech before. You're really the only person he takes an interest in outside of us lot." Kids got a point, you thought. "Besides, we all know that Tech likes you!"

As if hit by a sudden bolt of lightning, Omega was on her feet and was smiling in glee.

This did not bode well for you. Where the hell is she going now?!

"Omega, wait -" You found yourself yelling after her, just as Hunter had done earlier. She really did move too fast. "Omega," you called as you groaned to your feet. She'd already reached the first ladder by the time you stood. "Omega, where are you going? You're going to get me in trouble with Hunter." It was almost a beg, you realised.

It was of no use, regardless, she was already two ladders down by the time you'd gotten a foot onto the first one. By the time you'd make it half way down, she'd probably be in Cid's bar already. Before you could even stop her.

What if she was going to tell Tech. Oh, hell no. This was going to backfire so badly.

You started to climb as fast as you could, calling out her name as you went. She didn't respond. So you continued to climb down, down and down...and quickly.

Hunter's going to kill me, you groaned to yourself as your feet touched the dirt. Your older bones were not designed for chasing children around Ord Mantell.

Luckily, and much to your surprise, she had stopped at the Marauder. She was stood at the entrance, hands on her hips, waiting for you. Her face still shone with glee. Your body was still in a panic so you ran across to her, only stopping when you were within about 4 feet of her. You panted, trying to catch your breath.

Shaking your head, you asked, "okay, so, what are we doing on here?" She grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the bunks. You suddenly felt like you were invading the private mental space of your favourite clones. It was an uncomfortable level of familiarity that you had been granted, without their knowlegde.

"It's your turn to make a deal with me." She bounced on her toes, and she held out her hand. As you shook it, she nodded her head at you, mimicking your action from earlier. With a chuckle, you shook your head at her. "Tech," she began sheepishly, "wouldn't exactly like to know that I do this. I don't even know if he would want you to know."

"If he wouldn't -"

"But you need it and right now, you come first." As your curiosity piqued, you folded your arms across your chest and nodded your head, urging her on. She was going to tell you anyway. "Sometimes, I use his tablet when mine is out of battery and he isn't using it. Look -" Grabbing the device, she lit the screen and showed it to you.

Your heart had certainly stopped. You were so convinced it had.

There, in pixelated form, was the photo you had taken together after you'd stolen his goggles. Donning a silly grin, you still had the goggles on. Your head was against Tech's shoulder and his arm was around your waist. As you remembered this tender moment, you could almost feel his hand on your hip still. After all this time. His eyes were squinting in the photo, but he had a small, proud smile quirked on his lips. Almost prideful as he stood next to you.

You had never even asked to see the photo after it was taken and now, you had just wished you had. You loved it.

Well, you thought, this was certainly a new development.

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

When you walked into Cid's with Omega, you tried so hard to keep your head held high after earlier. But between Cid's soft squint, Omega's smirk, Hunter's titled head and Tech's sudden rise to his feet as he saw you, you felt yourself retreating inside yourself once again.

You tried to smile at Tech but the moment your eyes caught his, you immediately heard brown eyes in your head and made a beeline for the nearest bar stool instead. Phee looked between everybody, completely perplexed by the strange silence that had settled.

A drink was placed in front of you almost immediately.

"No repeats of last week's antics, kid, you got it?" Cid pointed her long, taloned finger at you and you held your hands up in defence, mumbling some form of an apology.

"What happened last week?" Hunter enunciated each word with a careful look in your direction. When you didn't look at him, he looked to Cid. Cid looked at Bolo and Ketch. Nobody said a word.

However, from the corner of your mouth, you noticed Bolo about to open his mouth. In a panic, you pulled a small hydrospanner from your pocket and threw it across the room at him, hitting him just below his shoulder. With an uproarious 'OW', Bolo grabbed his arm and looked at you stunned.

"Nothing." You side-eyed Bolo, squinting your not-so subtle point across the room, "nothing happened, isn't that right?"

"No," he repeated quickly, "n-nothing happened last week. Perfectly normal week." He affirmed and turned back around to face Ketch. He stared into his drink and the room fell silent once more.

Omega looked at you, jaw slackened. She hadn't expected you to get quite so, well, violent, in your decision to hide your emotions from Tech.

For the first time since you'd met her, you were actually glad to see Phee. An easy, long distraction is just what we need, you thought.

"So, Phee," you quickly turned to face her with a small smile, "what fool's errand were you running this time?"

And with that, question time about the previous week had expired. Phee launched into her latest bold tale, arms waiving in front of her, exaggerating each foe, each near death encounter and the bravery of her treasure hunter partner, Omega. You couldn't help but smile at that part. It was certainly a long play by play of everything that had happened during the time that they had not been around you.

As you trained all of your focus on Phee and her antics, you didn't notice Tech watching you from the pillar by the bar. His knee was bouncing absentmindedly as he rested his head on his first. He was studying you intently and unashamedly. Something certainly had happened whilst we were away, Tech mused to himself, and it was something that all of the women in the room seemed privy too. With that in mind, he decided that perhaps he would not wish to know. There was always something so terrifying about women in cahoots with one another.

With that, Tech stood, drink in hand and moved across the room to sit with Wrecker and Omega. Phee's voice was certainly less loud in that corner of the room. It was also dark enough that he could simply watch you, quietly studying the soft features of your face.

As things began to wind down for the evening, Omega had given you a gentle, knowing hug and headed out into the night with Hunter. Wrecker was snoring softly in the corner, his Lula under his arm. Guess he's spending the night snoring away in Cid's, you determined as you looked him. You went to grab your bag when the familiar voice came from behind you, causing you to jump slightly.

"May I walk you back to your domicile?" Tech asked, pulling you back to the reality of it all. He pushed his goggles back up his nose and softly cleared his throat. Those were the first words he had said to you all evening. Though you hadn't given him much chance to say anything else.

You opened your mouth, as if to protest but Tech beat you to it, "it is late, and we are both fully aware that this part of Ord Mantell is hardly safe at this time of night." You assumed this may have been Tech's way of saying he was concerned about you safety.

"Sure, thanks Tech," you smiled gratefully as he offered you his hand to jump down off the stool. Chivalrous too. Heat pooled in your stomach as you walked behind him out of the door and back up the steps outside Cid's establishment. You stepped out into the night together and you became overcome with that familiarity that settled between the two of you.

Neither of you said anything until you reached the corner of the street, well out of the ear shot of the others. Not that anybody would have been listening, really.

"I wanted to ask you about earlier this evening." Of course he did. "When you hid behind that wall." His finger lazily pointed towards the wall as you walked past it. He cleared his throat before continuing on, "I was going to discuss it with you earlier but something told me it wasn't the prudent moment to raise the issue."

"No, it wouldn't have been." You affirmed for him, he hadn't asked but you could guess that his statement was more question than statement.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine Tech." You managed to sneak a look at the clone, he was already looking at you and so your eyes danced together in confusion as you walked. You looked away, and sighed, you offered a simple explanation, "I was in a shame spiral. Omega sorta helped with it earlier. That's where we went."

"A shame spiral?" He repeated, clearly processing this phrase for the first time. "I am unfamiliar with that term."

"I would probably be more surprised if you knew it."

"And what would you be spiralling over?" He wondered aloud, slowing down to match your newly reduced speed. You were approaching your home now. Hopefully, you could sneak inside without having to explain too much.

"Phee," you muttered, "I was shame spiralling over my jealousy of Phee." You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling all of the air escaping your lungs. He didn't say another word and for that, you were so very, very glad.

However, the reason Tech was not querying you came down to one simple thing: he couldn't fathom a question nor a statement in his mind that would even begin to cover the insanity of the statement you had just made. There was no what, why, who or how that seemed to end in a plausible, logical solution. He was perplexed. Women, and their emotions, were clearly not his expertise. He had already known that. As you noticed his gaze falling forward with a slight squint, you could almost see the cogs turning in his head and in fear of the question finally falling from his lips, you decided to change the subject just enough to bring him back to Ord Mantell and out of the deep recesses of his mind. You questioned how much of the story Phee had told was true.

"Well, as is usual with Phee, certain details, including her own heroism, were greatly embellished, but I suppose for the most part, the story was correct."

That was oddly concise for Tech. He was still thing about what you had said.

"Well, it sounds like you had a wild week then," you chuckled and scratched at the back of your neck.

You'd reached the main door to the grubby looking block of flats you lived in. You had almost expected Tech to stop here and say goodnight. But he was still so wrapped up in the questions swimming through his mind that he seemed to follow you up three flights of stairs without even thinking about it and, as you finally reached your front door, he asked the question you had dreaded, "I do not understand. Why would you be jealous of Phee?"

As you unlocked your front door, you turned and sighed in his direction. His eyes began searching yours for any kind of logical explanation, but all he could find was fear, weariness and an uncomfortable uncertainty. None of those were things he wished to find in the eyes he considered to be the most beautiful in the galaxy. You leant into the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest and finally decided to simply say it, "because of how she is with you, Tech."

"That is absurd." That statement had sort of slipped off his tongue before he had given it any real thought or appraisal and boy, did he wish he had thought that one through. Before you could say anything further, justify anything further, you simply mumbled a 'yeah, well, goodnight Tech' and tapped the comm panel to close the door.

You rested your head against the door, convincing yourself that Tech would have walked away and your heart dropped. That had not exactly gone how you thought it would or even should have.

But then you could hear the muffled sound of Tech clearing his throat.

"Phee tells inconsistent stories. She talks, constantly, yet does not seem to actually anything of import. It's maddening," you smiled softly at that, "not to mention the fact we were in another life threatening situation as a result of her desire for treasure. She is often greedy, convoluted and she calls me brown eyes despite me reminding her that brown in the phenotypic eye colour of all clones. It is not distinct to me." You turned and rested your back against the door as he spoke. He began to talk through it all, through his thoughts of Phee, through their most recent exploit. You felt like you could be standing there listening to him talk about Phee for a long time. He seemed to letting loose a babble of information that had been hidden within his cool interior for so long.

Truthfully, Tech was terrified in this moment and that was why he was babbling. He wasn't even sure if you were still listening. You'd shut the door, almost onto his face.

Perhaps it was the notion that you weren't listening that was giving him the courage to carry on talking in this moment, "you have nothing to fear of Phee. Not one thing to be jealous of, cyar'ika." The final word dripped from his tongue like honey, so sweet and smooth that you were convinced you must have heard him incorrectly.

You said nothing. How could you? You'd just shut the front door to your home in his face and he was just talking at you. He hadn't said anything you didn't already know. Deep down you knew Tech didn't like Phee. That was why you had spiralled. You were being 100 per cent ridiculous, even now.

"Most importantly, she is not the person I-" You heard him clear his throat again. He was so afraid of what he needed to say to you, to make you understand. "She is not the person I think of in the early hours of the morning when the ship is silent, nor the person I think of in the gentle hue of the evening when I should be fixing the Marauder. You are maddening to me too."

You smiled again, turning back to rest your hand and forehead on the door. He was resting his forehead on the door too, simply to ensure that the softness of his voice carried through to you.

"I am maddened because I cannot shift you from my thoughts. Your smile, your stories and the fact that you always seem to listen to the information I try so hard to share with the others. It is as if you really care about what I have to say and that, that is not something I feel very often. Not even with my own brothers." There was a painful silence for a moment, Tech was listening for any sign that you were still listening to him.

"I will admit I did try to not think of you. But you are all of I want to think of." He ran his index finger down the centre of your door, almost longingly wishing you would open the door for him. "I think of what it would feel like to simply hold you, or kiss you. To be with you in every way my brain can even conceive. Please, cyar'ika, open the door."

And so, you did.

When you looked up at him, it was evident that he hadn't actually expected you to open the door. His right hand was gripping the top of the door frame above him, his weight resting lazily upon it. He smiled and comically lowered the finger he had been using to trace across your door.

He stood slightly and searched your eyes once more, "naturally, I have always credited myself on being of exceptional intelligence, due to my enhanced genetics." He looked deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that he should stop talking. He couldn't find anything but adoration and that began to startle him a little. "I am intelligent about everything, except you. Perhaps I would also extend that to include the female psyche generally in that category," you smirked at him, crossing your arms again, "of all the things that I had thought had harmed you or upset you this evening, I did not expect an interest," he tested the word in front you, to be sure he wasn't wrong, "in me, to be the reason. If I had known you felt that way about Phee, about me, then I would have -"

That was enough. He had said enough now.

Before he could continue talking, you grabbed him by his chest plate and pulled him through the threshold of your home. Guiding him by his armour, you moved Tech towards the grey arm chair closest to you. He was somehow still talking, though the sentences were now uncertain and broken. Your heart was beating so loud that you could no longer even hear what he was saying.

With an 'oof', Tech had collided with the chair, his knees buckling at the contact. His hands found your waist with a sweet uncertainty. He softly grabbed at the fabric of your dress, wishing he was not wearing his gloves. You deliberating lowered your face towards him and he froze. Unable to speak as he studied the beautiful features that were before him. You hair cascaded around your shoulders, gravity pulling it towards him as you straddled his narrow waist. You finally spoke, "I was jealous because was able to say the things to you that I wanted to say, to do the things the things that I wanted to do," you clarified and with one final smirk, you whispered "brown eyes."

You felt the groan build in his stomach as you said it. A blush had crept up his neck and over his cheeks at the statement. You simply sat and looked at him as his lips hung slightly open. The nickname hit him differently as it slipped from your lips, smooth and loving. Tasting of honey and home.

Slowly, but surely, you finally lowered your lips to his.

Almost instinctually, one of his hands raised to the side of your chin, guiding your lips to his. His lips were softer than you'd expected. You'd assumed the rugged clones would be just that - rugged. But, as you often were with Tech, you found yourself pleasantly surprised and you felt the force with which he kissed you.

There was a tenderness to his movement, as if he had waited for this as long as you had. As if he wanted the moment to continue on forever, just as you did.

You even enjoyed the sensation of his cool goggles against your cheekbones, sure to leave a little mark when you pull away. You simply enjoyed the taste of Tech, the way his lips seemed to meld so perfectly with yours.

As you pulled back from him for the first time, you could him smiling so genuinely and sweetly and, in that moment, you knew. You knew he would never look at Phee the way he was looking at you right now. You had stopped the cogs of Tech's overactive mind and in its place, left a lusty, cocky male, who simply wanted nothing more than to kiss you and hold you for the rest of his life.

He led your lips back towards yours by the hand at your chin and he tipped his head towards yours. You felt the arm around your waist tighten as your lips made contact. Without thinking, you found yourself grinding once upon his lap, gasping at the friction. He groaned into the kiss before pulling away.

"If I had but known..." he breathed as his head pulled back from yours, resting on the back of the sofa. His breath was heavy in his chest and he looked up at you with a soft smile.

"If you but known how much I wanted you..." you whispered back, as you rested your head against his shoulder. Your breath soft against his ear.

[nrdmssgs]

Hi hi! I was wondering if I could request a 141 reaction to reader asking them to dance out in the rain with them, civilian or a fellow soldier? I really loved the headcanon you did of falling asleep on their shoulder and I just need more fluff of them please

Masterlist

Oh how I love doing anything in the rain with SO!!!!!!!! I live for such requests, thank you so much!! I had the best time writing this.

TF 141 reacting on reader, asking them for a dance in the rain

Simon Ghost Riley

This was the most important day in his life, the happiest one. But Ghost still felt guilt stinging him time to time. What if you said, you wanted it to be quiet and private just to make him comfortable? What this didn't match your dreams, what if his whole life didn't meet your expectations? There were no guests, no intricate or pompous speeches, no tears or happy laughter - everything was down to earth, calm and fast. Simon didn't even get it right away, when everything was done. He just stood there before the clerk looking at your certificate.

"You sure, you don't want any gift to remember this day?" He took your hand so that he doesn't lose you on a crowded street.

"Oh, I have a gift, don't worry. And I'm planning to keep it for life." Your smile illuminated even this colorless autumn day.

Simon heard a large raindrop hit your shoulder. The next drop touched his cheek. This rain reminded a more summer one: it did not cover the city with a moisture gray veil, but merrily played with the rays of the sun, which appeared at the other end of the sky and refracted in lonely drops.

People around you fled, seeking shelter from the rain, and Ghost cursed softly. "Not only haven't I arranged a proper ceremony for you - now the day will be ruined by the rain..."

"How many times do I have to repeat, that it is primarily me, who didn't want any ceremonies?" You lift his hand and place a kiss on his knuckle.

"If you ever have second thoughts - let me know right away. I'll find a tailor, arrange a cake and the isle, and what else people do normally..."

"Mister Riley, this may come as a surprise, people do whatever they please." Your laughter immediately eases his soul. "Now please stop beating yourself for not being an incarnation of every teenage dream. I don't need it. What I need to remember this day forever is you, Simon. Just you."

"Just me is not enough..." This was meant to be inaudible, but you still heard him and stopped in your tracks.

"Please, never say that again. You are enough. Now, if you want to go above and beyond that badly today - dance with me. Right here, right now." Your request takes him by surprise. But it's you, and he swore to himself when you two signed the papers earlier, that you'd get whatever you ask for. Always.

He stands motionless for a while, never taking his eyes off you. And then he holds out his hand to you. His heart beats as fast as the day you met.

"May I have this dance, Mrs Riley?"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

"Kyle!" You would jump on the hospital bed right into his arms, if you were sure, it wouldn't hurt him.

Gaz smiled widely the very second, he heard your cry. "Hi, sweetie! I'm so glad, you made it here, I missed you so much!" His lively voice doesn't match his appearance: his body is covered with patches and stitches, and it almost screams 'let me rest and don't even think to go on another mission in next few months'. You frown at the sight of it and come closer, inspecting every centimeter of his skin.

He tracks your gaze and says lightheartedly, "Don't worry, sweets, in a week ill be as good as new."

"In a pair of weeks," corrects him nurse, who lead you into his room.

"In a pair of weeks, I'll be dead of boredom here..."

You profusely apologize to the nurse for Kyle and when she leaves, closing the door behind her, you turn back. "It's okay, I've got my job done, and I'll be here with you for as long as it takes." You are so relieved to finally see him in one piece, after you got that frightening call. You know, it's his job, his life, but you can't lose him, cant even imagine waking up, knowing, I will never see that myriad of different smiles of Kyle Garrick.

One of your favorites is that sneaky shit-eating grin, when he is about to win a bet or a game. It is so pure, so full of joy - it makes you believe for a short moment, there is no war out there, no hell, he will have to return to sooner or later. So for the next two weeks you come up with all kinds of games, only to see that smile on his face.

Even though it was Kyle who ended up in the hospital bed out of the two of you, he takes care of you as usual, not the other way around. So every time you lose a bet - he makes you eat a desert from his lunch, or wraps you in his shirt, so that you are cozy and warm. But in rare cases, when you win - you exploit it as much as you can. After your very first win you make him promise, that he will follow every instruction of his doctors, and in two weeks he will dance with you in the courtyard of the hospital.

Gaz keeps his word, and after two weeks you finally leave the hospital. It would be the perfect moment - if not for one "BUT": the street meets you with pouring rain.

"Sorry, sweetheart, looks like no dancing in the wild for you today. But if you are willing to wait for a few hours - I promise, well find a perfect ballroom somewhere in my flat." Kyle touches your shoulder and smiles reassuringly.

"Oh no, all your ballrooms require us to press ourselves as close to each other and not swing at all."

"And that was... pretty much the most significant part of my plan." Even when he is flirting with you that shamelessly - Kyle somehow keeps the softest eyes and sweetest smile.

You know him too well - Kyle can't refuse you. So when you hold out your hand to him, he shakes his head, leans the bags against the wall, and leads you out into the little garden in front of the hospital building. There he puts one arm around your waist and circles slowly with you, oblivious to the rain. He does not hide the admiration with which he watches your movements. When you get closer to each other - he covers every inch of your face with kisses, repeating "Losing to you was the best thing, my angel. Thank you for helping me out".

Captain John Price

On your first date, you looked nervous. Despite knowing him for years already, this evening felt different. You knew, at some point you'll have to explain, what's going on, but words kept failing you.

"You ok, love?" John noticed it. Of course, he would, since his eyes never left your face.

No.

"Yes! I mean, of course... Sorry, where were we?"

But he knows you too well, and you already feel his eyes scanning through a smile plastered on your face. So John takes your hand and starts asking questions. He doesn't pressure you, but just helps you to navigate through your anxiety, trying to specify, what causes it. So you finally give in and explain that even the most insignificant physical contacts are difficult for you. At the same time, you are incredibly glad that you two finally went on a date. To your relief, John reacts calmly, lets go of your hand and reassures you, that your wellbeing is much more important than social customs, demanding, that every good date must end with a kiss or a hug.

"I promise to not touch this topic, if you don't feel like sharing, but I must know, if anything... or anyone caused this or if it's just the way you are, which is absolutely ok." His voice is soft. It sounds so comforting, you feel safe enough to share your reasoning, which Price accepts right away.

Since then, he catches himself urging to touch you, but freezing, before his hand actually reaches your personal space. No matter how badly he wanted to comfort you and share his warmth - John remembered, he better come up with an alternative way to do that. So he made you warm with words, little presents, acts of service - anything, but touch.

One day, he was walking you home from another date when lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, illuminating the evening sky.

"Oh no, it's about to rain, John, come wait at my place."

"Don't worry, love, you don't scare a brit with a few raindrops. You need a good sleep before working week, so I'll get you home and be on my way to my place right after."

When you are saying goodbyes at your door, it starts raining. John turns away and heads right into a thick wall of raindrops, falling all around a canopy. "It's just water, it's not gonna harm him," you think to yourself. But something inside you asks, demands, pleads you to stop him. So you dart after Price and grab him in an awkward embrace from back.

"Love?" John turns his head. "I told you to not wo-"

You cut him off, shifting around and now pressing your cheek against his broad chest. It is unexpected, but so much awaited, John barely holds back a shiver, that runs down his body. You start quietly humming some vaguely familiar melody and gently rocking back and forth.

"Can I hug you back?" Even startled by your sudden act of affection, John still guards your border.

You nod, still pressing yourself so close to him, that raindrops can't wet his jacket from the front. Carefully and slowly, he locks you in an embrace, letting you continue slowly dancing with him. He doesn't care for the rain or late hour anymore - he only cares for you in his hands.

Johnny Soap Mactavish

"Seriously, another bloody traffic jam? " Soap presses his face against car window and groans. You've asked him for about a hundred times not to do that, but it is impossible to make Johnny cooperate, when he is unhappy.

Hes been venting to you about that gig for the last few months. You were pretty sure, it was because you owned a car, which was practically the only reasonable transport to reach such a secluded small town, where the concert took place. One must have witnessed Johnnys puppy eyes, when he asked you to ride there together with him, to understand, why you just couldn't say no. You invited the rest of the 141 to join you, but all of them, by a strange coincidence, remembered some urgent personal plans at the last moment.

So there you were, alone with a whining Sergeant in a car, stuck in a traffic jam, that was very likely to not let you make it in time even for the second half of the gig. And as if things weren't bad enough - it started raining.

"I'm sorry, Soap. I'm not sure, we will be there in time." You hated it that, you couldn't change the situation, because Johnny always did everything in his power to cheer you up, help you or just make you smile. You wanted to be as good friend as he was to you, but this traffic jam required a true magician in order to get sorted out in minutes. So you sigh deeply, tapping the steering wheel with your fingertips.

The idea hits you out of nowhere. You pull to the side, as soon as you reach a small, empty parking area in the woods.

Soap turns to you with a puzzled face. "Lass? Everything alright?"

Without answering him, you turn off the engine and pick up the phone. "Ah, you want to look for another route again?" suggests Johnny. "But we already tried it a hundred times - there are no alternatives ..."

"Calm down, MacTavish, I'm bringing you the concert."

"You mean, you're bringing me to the concert?" He tilts his head to the side in confusion.

"I said what I said, Johnny... Now, give me ju-u-u-ust one more minute.... Here, perfect!" With these words, you jump out of the car right into the rain and open the passenger door. "C'mon, MacTavish, we spent a few hours trying to get there, we might as well enjoy our very own concert."

With the first chords of the song, a radiant smile blooms on Johnny's face. He throws his head back and laughs out loud, covering his face with his hands. "Ya crazy, lassie, you know it?"

You pull him out of the car and take his both hands in yours. "Listen, I know, this is no way as fun as the real gig. But I dont want you to remember this day as 'that time, we killed a day in a car', ok?"

Johny moves closer, not stopping laughing and starts slow dancing with you despite a rather jolly and fast melody. "Oh fuck that concert. This right here is worth a month spent in a traffic jam. I wouldn't trade it for anything"

[mi-rae07]

can I request a mafia mingi x pregnant s/o angst :3 mingi breaks up with the reader bcs he thought she was a burden with his mafia life but he doesn’t know that she’s pregnant. Hurt me with all the angst you’ve got! but with a happy ending i beg TT

Song Mingi : Chance (Part 1/3)

Pairing : Song Mingi (Ateez) and named character (Jung Miyeon)

_____________________

Miyeon : doctor, are you sure? There's no other-

Doctor : I'm sure, miss lee. You are three weeks pregnant, with twins.

______________________

Mingi : and? Did you check the bodies properly? There was no trace left behind at all?

Jongho : none, sir. It seems as if they were all killed in one go.

Mingi : then that means there was more than just one assassin.

Jongho nodded, looking at the gruesome pictures that had been laid on mingi's desk. He was just about to say something when the door opened, revealing mingi's mother. Jongho quickly bowed down, mingi letting out a breath as he stood up and said

Mingi : eomma, I'm quite busy-

Jina : I know, I came to talk important matters with you, son.

Mingi : one that cannot be discussed at my house?

Jina : yes.

Mingi nodded and motioned jongho to step out, jongho bowing one last time before leaving the both of them alone. Mingi watched as his mother sat on the seat opposite him, a grim look on her face.

Mingi : what is it?

Jina : your father is very ill, son.

Mingi : I know that.

Jina : no, this is worse than before. Doctors say he has only another two-three more months to live.

Mingi sighed, leaning back against his chair. He was never a fan of his father, given the conditions he was brought up in. but he was still mingi's father.

Mingi : what is his last wish then, eomma.

Jina : he wishes to get you married.

Mingi : he seriously wants me to get married to miyeon-

Jina : no, not her. Another lady, a better one.

Mingi : eomma, what the hell?

Jina : I always told you this wasn't going to last, mingi. I always told you your father would want something in return for handing over this company to you.

Mingi : isn't what he's taken from me already enough?

Jina : apparently not. And son, I've seen miyeon, I've talked to her. She isn't fit for this lifestyle of yours. One day she's gonna want you to leave this field of work and you know that isn't possible. This is our-

Mingi : family line, I know.

Jina sighed, leaning forward as she said

Jina : I know you love her, but you must let her go if you truly care for her, son. You know what your father can do even if he's in the hospital. If you don't let her go, he's going to do it for you. And it will not be in a good way.

Mingi let out a breath, muttering under his breath

Mingi : get out.

Jina nodded, getting up from her seat as she said

Jina : remember what I said, son. Make sure you won't regret your decisions in the future.

Jina turned around and left, leaving a disturbed mingi behind.

__________________________

Miyeon looked up as she heard footsteps coming her way, indicating that mingi was home. She smiled and stood up, keeping her phone away as she opened her arms for mingi. He smiled, keeping his bag away before wrapping his arms around miyeon.

Miyeon : had a bad day at work?

Mingi : mm, something like that. And you?

Miyeon : it went as work always does.

Mingi hummed, nuzzling his head onto her shoulders. Miyeon bit her lip, deciding she should probably ask him what she had meant to.

Miyeon : do you ever think you'll resign your position as a mafia, mingi-ya?

Mingi stiffened in her hold, his eyes now open as he pulled back from the hug with a frown

Mingi : what?

Miyeon : you know, since it's a dangerous line of work, one day when we have children, do you think you'll give up your work and choose to do something less dangerous?

Mingi stared at miyeon as his mother's earlier words rang through his mind

"And son, I've seen miyeon, I've talked to her. She isn't fit for this lifestyle of yours. One day she's gonna want you to leave this field of work and you know that isn't possible"

His mother was right, and miyeon had already started asking.

Mingi : you know I do not really want children, yeon-ah.

Miyeon blinked her eyes, her hands clenching around mingi's shirt. Oh no, she thought.

Miyeon : like…ever?

Mingi : miyeon, what is with you. You've never asked questions like this before, why are you so suddenly interested in children?

Miyeon : no I'm just…asking for future purposes-

Mingi : no, then don't. because there will be no future for us with children. I do not want any.

Before miyeon could say anything mingi walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Miyeon's hands fell to her stomach, caressing it as she shut her eyes tightly.

God, this wasn't going the way she had expected it to.

__________________________

Miyeon stared at mingi as he ate his dinner, not having uttered a single word since he came out of that bathroom. Which was very unlike mingi, who couldn't usually keep himself from talking.

Miyeon : I'm sorry I asked.

Mingi : it doesn't really matter.

Miyeon : but-

Mingi : can we leave that matter behind, miyeon?

Miyeon : why do hate it so much, mingi-

Mingi : because it is my work! It's what my entire family has poured their entire life into and now you want me to leave it?

Miyeon : that's exactly why I want you to leave it, mingi. How many of your people have lost their lives over this work?

Mingi scoffed, putting his chopsticks down as he said

Mingi : I should've known this would happen someday.

Miyeon : what would happen.

Mingi : this! You questioning my life!

Miyeon : I'm not-

Mingi cut her off as he stood up, shaking his head before saying

Mingi : forget about all of this, miyeon. I am not going to leave my work behind for anyone or anything, bottom line.

Mingi turned around and left, leaving a teary-eyed miyeon behind. What the hell was she going to do now?

___________________________

2 weeks later :

Mingi limited his interactions with miyeon after that night. Because the more he thought about what she had told him that night, the more he realized his parents were right. Miyeon wasn't fit for this life of his, and no matter how much it hurt for the both of them, it would be better if they separated. Before it was too late, anyway.

And so mingi realized the best way to do that was to slowly grow more distant to her as days passed. In that way, it would hurt less for her when he said he wanted to break up. She'd probably hate him by then.

Whether this whole thing hurt mingi or not, that he didn't care about anymore. If this was what was best for miyeon, then so be it. She deserved a life with children and a loving husband who wasn't in danger of getting killed every day.

____________________________

2 months later :

Miyeon was now sitting in her living room, the TV playing some show in front of her. Except she wasn't watching, and she didn't have it in her to go for work either. She hadn't said that to mingi, because after all how could she? He left before she was awake and came back after she was asleep. And during the few moments they would meet, he remained cold as ever. And this had been going on for the past 2 months. The more time passed, the more distant mingi grew from her. At this point they almost lived like complete strangers.

And that, miyeon supposed, was because of what she had asked him a few months ago, about leaving his job and starting a family. But if this was how mingi reacted to just mere words and questions, how would he react to the fact that miyeon was actually pregnant with their babies? It would tear mingi apart from her, which was why miyeon had hesitated so much to break the news to her boyfriend.

But now, now she supposed there was no harm in trying. Because anyway, he was distant to her. What if things turned out to be different once she actually told mingi about her pregnancy? And so she decided to tell him.

Miyeon flinched as she heard the door opening, a frown falling on her face. It was only 6pm, who the hell was home now? Miyeon stood up, keeping her bowl of grapes aside before walking towards the entryway. Her eyes widened as she saw mingi, his face turning into that of surprise as well as he stared at her.

Mingi : what are you doing here?

Miyeon : I…took a day off work. And you?

Mingi sighed, keeping his shoes aside before saying

Mingi : well then, let's talk.

Miyeon nodded, realizing it was required. It would be the best time to break her news to mingi. Miyeon was about to say it when mingi suddenly said

Mingi : let's break up.

Miyeon froze, her heart thumping against her chest as she whispered

Miyeon : what?

Mingi : let's go our own ways now, miyeon. I don't want to be with you anymore.

Miyeon : but…why? Did I do something wrong?

Mingi : miyeon-ah, remember when you told me about starting a family?

Miyeon : that-

Mingi : yeah no, I cannot do that. This line of work does not allow me to do any of that. Yes, my ancestors have had a family, and many of their children have been killed in the process. The ones that did survive in the end, took over the company. But I cannot do that to my own children, miyeon. And not to you either. I refuse to sacrifice an innocent life for the sake of all this.

Miyeon stared at mingi, her hands unconsciously going to her belly. Mingi sighed as he continued

Mingi : this is a path I must lead by myself now. You cannot follow me any longer.

Miyeon : but I can adjust, mingi. Our-

Mingi : except I don't want you to adjust, miyeon. I don't want you at all anymore.

Miyeon stepped back from mingi, her eyes hurt.

Mingi : the more as time pass, the more you will turn into a burden for me. And I don’t think either of us want that in our future. So go, go away from me and live a life that you want. A life that will give you happiness.

Miyeon scoffed, looking away as tears filled her eyes.

Miyeon : all that time I spent on you, on us, it meant nothing in the end.

Mingi did not say anything more. And just by looking into his face, miyeon had finally decided.

She was going to do this on her own, she was going to give her babies the world.

And so miyeon looked up at mingi with determined eyes before saying

Miyeon : fine. Then this is the end of us. Goodbye, mingi.

__________________________

11 months later :

Miyeon stared at the two beings that were deep asleep in their cribs with a smile on her face, slowly rocking their cribs. It had been a boy and a girl, and miyeon had named them minho and minji. They weren't purely identical, but they had their own similarities. While minho was more like miyeon, minji was more like mingi. Except she wasn't going to tell them about their father.

It was the same father that had abandoned miyeon, so why would she bother telling her children about him? She was a nurse after all, she made enough money to be raising the both of her children very well by herself. And that was exactly what she was going to do.

__________________________

4 years later :

Miyeon was now in a park with her brother, minho and minji clearly in their own words, jumping around the trampoline. Miyeon was watching them with a smile on her face, sipping on her chocholate milk. Wooyoung turned to face his sister, his eyes squinted from the sunlight

Wooyoung : how long are you going to hide them from mingi?

Miyeon : as long as it's required, of course.

Wooyoung : and the kids? They're gonna wanna know about their father sometime, yeon-ah.

Miyeon : when they're old enough, I'll tell them the truth. About how he left me before I could even tell him that I was with child. Until then, they're gonna have to believe that their father is somewhere outside this nation and is unable to visit them.

Wooyoung sighed, leaning back against the bench before saying

Wooyoung : so you're gonna work hard like this for your entire life? Without anyone by your side?

Miyeon : well I have you.

Wooyoung whacked his sister's arm, making minho frown at his uncle from afar

Minho : if you hit my eomma once more, I'm going to squash your tiny head.

Miyeon laughed at that, making wooyoung frown in dismay

Wooyoung : yah! Whose head is tinier!

Minho stuck his tongue out at wooyoung, making wooyoung groan as he started to chase minho around the park. Miyeon chuckled as minji jumped out of the trampoline, running towards her mother with a smile on her face before crashing into her arms.

Minji : what's wrong with those two idiots?

Miyeon giggled, smoothening her daughter's hair before whispering

Miyeon : I wonder.

___________________________

3 years later :

Miyeon was now walking back home from work, after having decided not to take her car to work today. She was about to take her phone out when she heard heavy breathing somewhere close to her, making her pause on her tracks. Someone was hurt.

Miyeon quickly traced herself to the hurt person, standing in front of an alley a few seconds later. And soon enough she saw the man that was crouched down on the floor, holding his stomach that seemed to have a small stab wound, while letting out soft groans. Miyeon stepped forward and was about to say something when the man suddenly looked up, his face coming into her proper view.

Miyeon : mingi?

Mingi let out a shaky breath, looking away from miyeon as he whispered

Mingi : go away.

Miyeon : you're hurt.

Mingi : as you can see. Now go away, jung miyeon.

Miyeon : and? What, you're going to just let yourself die here?

Mingi : why do you care, miyeon. You're not supposed to-

Miyeon : I care because I am a nurse, there's nothing more to this than that.

Miyeon stepped closer to mingi, bending down and moving his hands away to inspect the wound. Mingi stared at her the entire while, taking her in after so many years.

Miyeon : it seems to be a small wound. Do you mind going to the hospital?

Mingi : I can't, they're going to ask for an explanation. Miyeon-

Miyeon : then we're doing this the old way.

Mingi's eyes widened as miyeon lifted him up with her, dragging him out the alley.

Mingi : what the hell are you doing? What is your husband going to say when he sees you taking me home like this?

Miyeon : lucky for you, I have no husband.

Mingi paused, confusion lacing him. She didn't have anyone? Then the kids he saw in the park with her a few months ago?

Miyeon : I'm going to call a taxi. Make sure you have your coat wrapped around the wound at all times. We cannot let anyone see that you're hurt.

Mingi slowly nodded, his hand still clutched against the wound. Miyeon let out a breath, holding her hand out for a taxi as she whispered under her breath

Miyeon : I can't believe I'm doing this.

_______________________________

Taglist : @curly-fr13s @jeongintwt @jamia-wilson @aloverga @treasure-hwa @bigzaddydwaekki

__________________________________

[dreamsy990]

so 358/2 days, amiright? heres my thoughts

this game is just. god its an emotional rollarcoaster

i guess ill start with the things i dont like!! which is mostly the gameplay. i dont really mind the mission structure shockingly (i like being able to roam around but having a clear goal makes things easier for my adhd ass, and i think the miniature storylines are very good for the most part) but i simply could Not get into the combat. especially coming off of kh2 it feels so stiff and unfun to play the only part of the game where i enjoyed the combat was fighting riku at the very end. i think the panel system is okay but i dont like that levels take up space. why did they do that.

story-wise, i dont like the retcons!! a lot of the ones i take issue with are very minor but things like roxas only fighting riku once instead of the implied multiple times (even the dialogue doesnt make sense when you change that, why does roxas say 'how many times do i have to beat you' when theyve only fought once?) are the kinds of inconsistencies that just annoy me.

im also a little bit annoyed at the very concept of this game at all. i think roxas worked just fine as a character without this game. it feels sort of unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. also, xion. i love xion, dont get me wrong, but i dont think she adds anything to the series over all. thats not to say she doesnt add anything to this game because shes a great character and i love her, but shes just. kind of like this game in that if you got rid of her i dont think it would really change the narrative so much.

BUT DESPITE THAT ALL!!!!!!!! i fucking ADORE this game. it is genuinely so full of charm and soul that i just cant bring myself to dislike it. i think this is one of the best written games in terms of dialogue. every scene (at least for me) hit exactly as emotionally hard as i think it was meant to. i was laughing at demyx's antics and crying at xions death and yelling at saix and i think thats exactly how the game is meant to be seen.

days at its heart is a slice of life. its working a 9 to 5 its going through a depressive episode its losing friends its grieving its making fun of your coworkers its living. its a game about life and i love that.

this game really did make me forget that axel roxas and xion dont get a happy ending. i spent so much time looking forward to them making up that i forgot that roxas ran away. hell i almost forgot that xion died.

days is emotional and its story and its characters are just so fucking good. the conflicts all felt very real and you can tell exactly where everyones coming from. the way axel roxas and xion fall apart hits so fucking close to home. but god damnit if axel had any good communication skills like half of this could be avoided

its also one hell of a love letter to axel's character. hes always been one of my favorites (he recently earned first place) and i think this game does him a lot of justice. hes trying to do good. he wants to keep everything together he wants to be there for his friends he wants to make things right but he just cant. its just AUGH its so fucking good

that thing about axel's characterization really also applies to roxas. i dont have much to say about him beyond the fact that i think it does his character very well. also tism. hes so autism.

i kind of like the very limited graphics too. sue me i enjoy low quality games. the hands are not animated and they all have two expressions (blinking and not blinking) and their weapons are flat and im living for it. the very few fully animated cutscenes are good too!!

the (real, i dont count riku) final boss is unfortunately very easy. you can just stand directly in front of her and mash a she wont hit you its too easy but vector to the heavens did mess me up a bit. also earlier scene but "ill always be there to bring you back" with the other promise playing over it? fucked me up man. yoko shimomura is once again killing it

i cant believe roxas didnt get to go to the beach.

i have to give this game a 9/10. its writing is incredible but the gameplay could use a lot of work. its just not fun to play. but again the characters, emotions, and music all make up for that tenfold.

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

Spiraling (Sherlock Holmes)

Hi, this is just a thought I've concocted. I honestly dont know what it is. I dont know if anybody will enjoy it, i hope they do but i already expect disappointment. Pardon my writing as i am still new to this. there was still a bit left after this but i didnt know how to run through it so just posted this but maybe ill finish that one once ive thought it through

Summary: After an accident during a case, a hostage situation leaves you in a coma for a week. During that week in the hospital, things are going horribly in Baker Street

‘Ohh Sherlock darling that’s beautiful, though I haven’t heard it before. Dare I ask who wrote that’ I asked Sherlock as he played the unfamiliar song. It was odd that I was unfamiliar with the beautiful tune as Sherlock has played plenty and more melodies than I can count, all of which I was familiar with, however that was new. I knew that he likes to compose as it helps him think but this was different, so I assumed was he’s playing another great’s piece. His melodies were always a bit solemn, deep and intense but this was lively, light and dare I say romantic.

‘Me’ he said flatly as he continued to play. Shocked as I was, I remained quiet as he carried on fiddling with his violin. Apparently, the shock was evident in my face as a smirked crossed his. I shrugged it off and listened until he finished the number. He was focused on the violin when he started to play but now his gaze was held on me. I gave him a soft smile which caused his features to soften into a smile of its own.

After a little while he finished and set the instrument on his chair, eyes still fixed on me. The grin I’ve plastered on grew wider as he walks over to me, hand in offering. I accepted and rose from my seat as he led the way to an open area. He moved to face me, a hand that belonged to him crept up to my waist and the hand he held in his was raised. Confused of his actions, I went along with it and raised my free arm to his shoulder, having an inkling where this was going. Guessing correctly, we moved around the living area, dancing as much we could in the small, confined space. Having known the dance as the same one done at John’s wedding; I was pleased to not have forgotten the steps.

As we continued waltzing, I asked ‘what has you all cheery?’

‘What has you so inquisitive’ he countered

‘Fair enough, though what had transpired to get you to write such a beautiful melody’

‘Nothing just got bored, so I composed. I was just very fortunate enough to have a great model and inspiration.’ He smiled as I beamed at the realization of what he meant. I was sat all day reading -a rather fascinating book might I add- on John’s chair as the boys finished up on a case. He’d come in around just after noon, bored of having been done with the previous case and not being on one currently. I greeted him when he walked in and went to the kitchen to fix up some tea. When I returned, giving one of the two mugs to him -a kiss on the head as a thank you-, I returned to finishing my book.  

We continued dancing around the flat for a little while, nothing but the silent music and the rustling of our feet was heard. I laid my head on his shoulder at some point, happy and content of where I was and what I was doing. His voice broke the silence as we went for one last round.

‘Darling, can you do me a favour?’ he asked, voice a bit changed from the one he used earlier but I thought nothing of it.

‘Sure love, what is it?’

‘Wake up. Don’t leave me. Please come back to me’ His voice was now pleading and serious.

I raised my head as I said ‘What are you talking about, I’m right…’ I paused as his body and hold were loosening and disappearing ‘…here’ I continued with my sentence as I raised my hands to hold Sherlocks face. Everything had started to disappear in black. The flat and slowly his body.  

‘Please come back, I can’t lose you, I need you please’ were his final words as he disappeared, slipping through my fingers, into the darkness. Nothing but a spotlight overhead of me. I put down my hands from where they were clutching on to his face, looking around into nothing but darkness.

…

‘Ey, how’s she doing?’ Greg asked John as he walked into the hospital room. It was quiet, nothing but the steady beeping of the heart monitor, breathing of the people in the room and the rain pattering on the window. John was sat at the chair at the end of the bed where you laid, nearly dozing off but was aroused by Lestrade breaking the silence of the room. Mycroft, unnoticed yet by the DI was stood at the dark corner beside the door. He was staring at your unmoving body, wondering how such a fierce, smart, brave and strong woman could ever lay looking so fragile.

‘Same as yesterday’ John replied with a yawn. The lot of them have been juggling staying here with you, looking after Sherlock and taking care of Rosie. John and Molly’s focus were taking care of Rosie, while Mrs. Hudson looked after Sherlock somewhat. She’d inform their little group of what’s been happening with him, keeping tabs of his activities and mayhem in the flat but the woman could only do so much. Greg checked up on him from time to time, more often than John and Molly but it was no use. What greeted them was a mess that was once the great Detective Sherlock Holmes. No one could get through to him but you. Even Mycroft tried, but he knew that what his brother needed, and the lack of it resulted into relapsing back to old habits.

John went straight here after Molly came to take care of Rosie. He was absolutely knackered. Rosie couldn’t sleep through the night which kept him up as well. He’s been living off of pots of coffee the past week with barely enough sleep. He’d nod off at times when it was his watch and the others would let him.

Mycroft came to check on you from time to time and occasionally kept watch of you as well. He knew that when you woke up and found him fully rested, not having bothered with helping the others, you’d have his head.

Now it seems the boys are all here at once. Greg came to relieve John of his duties to get some rest and inform him of the situation with the younger of the Holmes brothers, still unaware that the older was in the room.

‘Just got a message from Mrs. Hudson about our boy, it isn’t good.’ Greg announces, drawing Mycroft to rub his temples and John to release a sigh. Ever since the accident, Sherlock has only visited you once. The lot of em guessed he couldn’t bear to see you that way so for the past week, he’s been holed up in Baker Street.

‘Christ, what the bloody hell has he done now’ John said exasperated. He was exhausted. Before Greg could respond, another did.

‘You wouldn’t want to know’ Mycroft breathed out. Lestrade’s head snaped to the corner of the room, where the voice originated. Mycroft walked to the centre of the room, down the foot of your bed. Greg’s eyes followed, still startled by the unseen fellow.

‘What are you doing here’ he asked Holmes.

‘I could ask you the same thing’ the eldest Holmes retorted.

‘It’s my shift with y/n’

‘Well there’s no need, you lot look like rubbish’

‘Gee Myc, thanks’ John interrupted.

‘As I was saying,’ he continued, glaring at Watson ‘You lot should get some rest. If y/n finds you’ve been staying here with her, tired and looking like rubbish, she’d have my head.’

‘She’d already be livid by us just not leaving her alone’ John chuckled

‘Ohh wait till she sees Sherlock, she’d be in flames carving us up’ Lestrade groaned with a snicker, rubbing his head at the thought.

‘She already is’ said an unknown voice. A voice they were familiar with but haven’t heard in a while.

All three heads snapped towards the bed. There they found a woman shifting in the bed, trying to sit up, groaning as a pang of pain shot up her shoulder and stomach. Her eye’s fluttering, adjusting to the light and scene in front of her. John quickly stood up from where he was sat as all three men went to check on y/n.

‘Call the nurses and her doctor’ John ordered to anyone in the room, mainly the two lads he was in conversation with and Lestrade followed, rushing from the room to get your attendants.

‘Hey there, sleeping beauty, stop moving around, your going to pop your stitches. Do you remem…’ John fretted as he started examining you, but got cut off.

‘Oh shut it John, I’m fine. Yes I remember what happened. I got shot. Last thing I remember was staring at a barrel of a gun. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m presuming I’m in the hospital. I’m also presuming Elizabeth is still the queen of England now leave me alone.’ She growled and the former army doctor backed away as her doctor came in with a few others, some nurses followed by Lestrade.

‘Ahh, it seems our VIP has awoken’ the doctor said.

‘VIP!’ She took another once over the room, seeing it is rather posh than a normal one, but her focus was on the three blokes taking a laugh at what her reaction was to be when she woke, before she shot her gaze to Mycroft who is to the right of her bed ‘Mycroft Holmes you moved me to a VIP room!’ she fumed as the government official backed away.

‘Okay Ms. Y/L/N please calm down. If you don’t mind, I will perform an examination to check your abilities.’ The doctor mused as he slowly and carefully approached the bed. He asked for permission to lift up your gown to examine the wound on your stomach. You waved him off and he began asking questions.

‘Ughh, John repeat’ you grumbled, already having answered the question before John could even ask.

‘She’s fine, she answered the questions before I could even ask.’ John explained to the doctor who nodded. He asked to uncover your shoulder, as he covered your stomach, to examine the wound on your there. Complying, he examined your arm. After the examination of the wounds, he checked your mobility and reflexes, lifting up your arms and etcetera. Finished with the inspection, he explained what happened to you medically. Apparently, the shot had you fall backward, in which you hit you head very hard -that explained the headaches-. You got shot at four times, three bullet hit you. One just a graze, one a flesh wound on the shoulder and the last on the edge of your stomach. It hit no vital organs but did graze the stomach. They took you to surgery and came out with minimal complications. They left you in a medically induced coma for a day to get the swelling on your head down. You haven’t woken up till now. You nodded every so often until he left, leaving you in the room with the boys and a nurse checking up on your vitals.

Running your uninjured hand to your hair, which was full of knots and a tangled mess, you sighed. You had pads stuck on your shoulder, stomach and arm, covering the holes and grazes on each area. The doctor said it was a miracle that you haven’t sustained much damage. He said miracle, you thought those were the odds of your predicament. ‘It could have been worse’ he said, that you believed. ‘You were lucky’ he added, you didn’t believe in luck.

‘Did anybody else get hurt?’ You asked, eyes closed, leaning back on the bed.

‘No, everyone’s fine, the hostages weren’t harmed, just… you’ John hesitated as he knew the lot of them were threading on thin waters.

‘How bad is it’ You asked, looking at Greg. He knew what you were talking about, he’d be stupider than you thought if he didn’t. He realized you must have heard his news about your lover. He doesn’t respond immediately, hesitating. Just from that you knew it was bad.

‘Bad’ he replied anxiously

‘Be more specific’ you sneered, ticked off from the lack of detail

‘He’s using’ John said plainly. ‘He is, isn’t he?’

‘Yes’ both Mycroft and Greg replied.

‘Fuck’ you breathed out, unintentionally ran you hand through your hair again, pissed to be greeted with a tangled mess. You look at John. He looked tired, bags and dark circles under his eyes, he looks like rubbish.

‘How long was I out again’ you asked, having ignored the doctor most of the time during his explanation, you let that little information slip.

‘A week’ John answered. You nodded as a thought crossed you.

‘Where’s, who’s with Rosie?’ you asked, concern over who’s with your god daughter. John smiled at your concern over his offspring.

‘She’s fine, she’s with Molly.’ he explained. You let out a breath, wincing a bit at the movement. You were given a PCA pump to help you control your pain, you pressed the button to add a dosage, not to much to get you fucked high but enough so the pain was manageable.

‘Speaking of, I should inform her and Mrs. Hudson that you’re awake.’ he said pulling out his phone.

‘Wait. Where are my things’ you asked so to get your own phone. The nurse’s head picked up and she gave you a plastic bag full of your belongings. You greeted her thanks as she continued on scribbling on her clip board.

‘John, could you get me anything to eat, I’m starving’ you asked your friend. He gave you a soft smile and nodded, glad that you had an appetite, he headed out to the canteen. Your gaze moved on to Mycroft who was sat on a chair near the window.

‘You, get me a less fancy room please. I do not want to be treated as if I’m royalty.’ he opened his mouth to object, but you cut him off. ‘Please’ you begged, which caused his resolve to break and agree. Not many could order around the Holmes boys, you were just one of the few that could. He left the room with his cane in tow, shutting the door. The nurse was about to leave as well but you called her over before she could.

‘Hi, could you please get me an AMA to sign and please be discreet.’ you told her gently but the intent an order. She looked at you for a second before nodding quickly and rushing out to get the document. You knew very well you could just leave without signing a damn thing but you didn’t want to cause a problem with the hospital, so this is just a courtesy.

‘What the are you doing’ Lestrade asked you as you ripped open the bag full of your stuff.

‘Did you guys get me anything to change?’ you said as you riffled through the bag looking for your phone.

‘Yah um sure.’ He went over to the closet and took a bag from a shelve. ‘Molly went to your flat while you were in surgery.’ He explained putting the bag on the bed. Having found your phone, you opened the bag he had given you and took out a change of clothes. You grabbed a clean pair of knickers, your denim jeans, a white shirt and a blue cardigan from the bag as you told Greg to close the curtains and look away. He followed as you gently put on your underwear and jeans. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button of the PCA pump to administer a bit more, scratch that, a lot more of morphine a few more times before pulling the needle out. You grimaced and threw the needle away. The nurse happens to have chosen that moment to come in and see what you were doing. She came to help you and pulled a plaster from one of the many drawers of medical equipment next to the machines. Greg who was still looking at the window asked what was happening.

‘Nothing just… did Molly happen to bring me any shoes’

‘Uhh yeah, bottom of the bag’ he replied.

‘Okay’ you say as the nurse helps you with your bra and shirt. You carefully put your arm through the hole of the shirt and rummaged through the bag of your items for a hair tie, your hair was killing you. Having found one, you attempted to tie your hair but a pang of pain shot your shoulder and stomach, mild but it was still there. The nurse having noticed this took the hair tie from you and tied your hair up in a bun. You were so very grateful for her at that moment.

‘Greg you can turn around now.’ Following your orders, he turned to see you fully clothed, a nurse tying up your hair.

‘What the bloody hell are you doing’ he exclaimed as he walked over to face you.

‘You are taking me to Baker Street.’ You say flatly as you reached for the clip board of forms.

‘I am not’ He handed it to you, and you asked for a pen.

‘You are’ you said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, he found one in his coat and handed it to you. You quickly scribbled and signed the discharge papers before handing them to the nurse, who was removing the rest of the wires attached to you.

‘Can you find me a wheelchair’ you asked Lestrade who fully knew it was an order and not a request. Grumbling he followed and left the room leaving you with the nurse. You pulled the shoes from the bag, threw the plastic bag of bloody garments in and zipped it shut. Slipping on the trainers carefully, you stood up fully from the bed and walked around with the help of the nurse, to wake up your legs from its week rest. Your clothes hung loose and big as you’ve lost a bit of weight during your hibernation. As you walk around the room, your leg starts to get a bit more feeling. The morphine was relieving most of your pain but that didn’t mean there still wasn’t some left.

Lestrade came in with a wheelchair as you’ve just slipped on the cardigan. You took a seat from the chair and asked for you bag to be placed on your lap. You thank the nurse, asking for her name as you were going to send her a gift basket or something as a thank you for getting you out of the hospital. She bided you with instructions and precautions with wounds, which you told her to tell John when he got back from the cafeteria. A thought occurred and you also asked her for a favour of giving John a few of the pain meds -morphine really- when he returned and maybe a suture kit, she nodded questionably. You thanked her one more time before asking Lestrade to wheel you to his car and head to Baker Street. You made a mental note of giving that nurse a very good thank you basket for all the things she’s done for you.

…

As Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand, she heard the ramblings of her tenant. From what she can tell, he was reciting Shakespeare. As she slowly opened the kitchen door -finding it much safer than the main one directly opening to the flat-, she’d find her kitchen a mess. Her table filled with beakers, a microscope, tubes and whatnot with a bunch of other experiments in different bins. Her counters and cabinets filled with the same thing, with an added touch of pinned and hanging files and photographs. The floors ridded with stacked piles of papers and boxes. She just managed to squeeze in her tray of tea and biscuits on the table, before being startled by a gunshot. She jumped and headed to the living room where the shots originated, checking on the lad she treated like a son. As she finally managed to weave her way to the living space, she was greeted by another shot, one her wall had to suffer.

She found Sherlock shouting and waving a revolver, as he rounded the flat like a mad man.

‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger; ' he recited loudly, pacing around the flat, pointing the gun at pictures that hang on strings and objects he found no longer useful, before shooting a picture pinned on the wall.

Startled from the shots fired and getting quite scared of Sherlocks erratic behaviour -though she’s somewhat used to this-, she rushes out the flat and down the stairs. She was going to ring up John or Lestrade to inform them of the increase in violence in the detective’s behaviour. More shots followed at her decent down the stairs when the front door slammed open revealing a y/h/c head of hair she knew belonged to the only person who could help the bloke who live in the flat she just rushed out on.

…

As the car got closer to 221 Baker Street, a clear sound of a bullet wrang through the block. A sound I know a bit too well from a recent experience. I flew out of the vehicle before Greg could even stop the car, pain searing through my body at the force of my movements. A faint ‘Eyy’ was heard coming from Greg but again faint as I was rushing to the front door.

‘STAY THERE’ I shouted back. The slanted knocker flew at the force of the door being slammed open. That was going to leave a dent on the partition, but I didn’t care.

‘Y/N!’ Mrs. Hudson was descending the stairs but was frozen in place at my arrival. I quickly sped up the stairs, past the landlady as pain wrecked through my body. ‘NOBODY COME UP HERE’ I shouted again, my throat getting sore even from the minimal exchange of words. I slow my steps as I get to the closed door of the flat, a booming voice heard from this side of the door. I slowly and very carefully open the door, not wanting to startle and get sent to the hospital with another bullet wound.

‘On, on, you noblest English. Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, have in these parts from morn till even fought and sheathed their swords for lack of argument’

‘Sherlock’ I said softly, announcing my arrival in between his rant. As I entered, I find chaos with the man I found to love in the centre of it all. What once was a somewhat organized flat, morphed as if a tornado passed through. Papers and pictures cloud and scattered on any available space. Strings hang at odd places. Bullet holes and pictures fill the walls, shattered pieces of glass crowd the floor along with knocked over furniture. It’s a mess.

You look up at Sherlock after scanning the room. Focusing on the detective, you take in his ragged and worn appearance. His curly head of hair, a greasy mess, sticking out at odd places. A heavy stubble has grown from the lack of shaving the past week. His features, primarily his jaw and cheekbones sharp from the scarce to none amount of food consumed. His skin, sickly pale as mine from when I woke up just less than an hour ago. His clothes hung loose on his body, the navy robe wrapped around him, fluttering as it followed his movement. He looks worse than me at the moment.

‘Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, and teach them how to war.’

He’s ranting, no reciting Henry the Fifth at the top of his lungs, waving the revolver around as he paced the flat, pulling at the papers stuck on the mirror, kicking anything his foot touched. Still in the midst of this chaos, what stood out to me were his eyes. Rounded by dark circles, sunken deep. However, behind those blue changing orbs, were emotions. I was always rather good at reading him, but his eyes always gave me the confirmation of my suspicions. Now what hid behind those beautiful cerulean blue orbs was guilt, worry and anger. I know that Sherlock cares for me and he has told me himself that he loves me, but I never knew that my absence would ever have this affect on him. Come to think of it, we’ve gone through far worse incidents but on the other hand he was always the one on that deep end. I never thought and always assumed that nobody cared enough for me to care if I was ever injured or dead. How wrong am I.

With a sigh, I whispered ‘Oh Sherlock what have you done’. I gulped before finding my voice to speak out again. I don’t think he knows of my presence yet as he’s still quite dramatically delivering the scene.

‘And you, good yeoman, whose limbs were made in England, show us here the mettle of your pasture.’

‘Sherlock’ I spoke up, receiving no response nor acknowledgement in return.

‘Let us swear That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, that hath not noble lustre in your eyes’

‘Sherlock’ I say louder, hoping to break through his train of thought.

 ‘I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit, and upon this charge cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’ He finished loudly before sending steady shots at a picture pinned to the wall behind the couch, causing me to duck with a whimper, my hand flying to my stomach. I definitely popped a few stiches.

‘SHERLOCK’ I screamed, only to have the colt pointed at me again. Having a bit of a deja vu as the last thing I remember before waking up this noon was staring a barrel of a gun. Quite used to this from my previous job and years running around with the boys, I’m fairly tired of it. I raise my hands as a faint of innocence, hoping once again to save another trip to the hospital.

‘Sherlock’ I repeated softly, wincing as I slowly stand. A wave of recognization flashes through him and he wavers slightly. Taking the opportunity, quickly taking a step closer -ignoring the throbbing pain coursing through me-, I smack the hand that wields the gun upwards, causing his grip to falter and ultimately letting go of the gun. I quickly snatch the revolver mid-air with my other hand, a tight grip on the handle, holding it far away from him, taking a few steps back.

A bit fazed from recent actions, Sherlock remains frozen, possibly shocked from my presence. I on the other hand go to remove the bullets from the cylinder but find it empty, before place the firearm on the coffee table that was pushed to the side. I wince again when I stand up straight after bending to place the gun carefully on the table. I turn back to him, his stare boring a hole through me. I say his name in a soft tone once more as I slowly walk back over to him. A foot remains, the distance being the only barrier keeping us apart.

I see him looking over every inch of me, deliberating if I was a hallucination from his drugged high or really standing in front of him. He’s deducing every little detail on me after being deprived of my appearance the week. Greg told me while we were in the car that he’s only come to see me once during my stay at the hospital.

I say his name again and close the distance, sparing him the torture I’m sure he’s come up with trying to push through the intoxication. I place my palm on his cheek, caressing the sharp jawline as is eyes flutter to a close. He melts under my fingertips and leans into the hand. A bit of my heart chips and withers away, the sight of him, he looks tired, exhausted.

‘Ohh darling what happened to you’ I whisper.

My other arm goes to rub his back but instead decides to scream in pain. Sherlock feeling the wince, opens his eyes and draws back, terrified at the thought of him hurting me. With a deep breath, I try close the distance again, yet he moves away.

‘I’m fine.’ I gave him my best smile and fill the space keeping us apart. My good arm wraps around him. He hesitates but wraps his arms around me before breaking down. No one has anyone seen Sherlock Holmes break down. No one even knows if he’s ever had a break down, possibly besides his family. Mycroft told me of his emotional youth. Yes, he was traumatized after Redbeard but as far as I was told he never broke down. Not like this.

His head drops and hides at the crook of my neck, hugging me in a tight embrace, not enough to hurt much but there were still bits of it, the morphine dosage I took evidently wasn’t enough or the hospital have bloody horrible pain meds, I choose to believe in the latter. I resulted to bending my other arm caress his back, moving the good one to his hair as I kissed his head. He then sobbed, soaking up the fabric of my garments before collapsing. I eased him down the messy floor carefully -a bit more for my sake than his-, letting out a shush as he sobbed. I grimaced a bit a few times, letting out a small hiss that was thankfully barely audible due to his snivelling. Sitting at the back of my legs, I held the man I would, without second thought give my life for if it came to it. The man that has managed to capture my heart without realizing it. The man many have called heartless but had the biggest of them all.

‘it’s okay darling, let it out’ I whispered to his ear.

I held him for a long while. Rubbing his back, caressing his hair, ignoring the pain of my wounds, consoling and murmuring words of comfort into his ear. At some point the tears stopped, left with sniffles before ending up with his slow and steady breathing down my neck. He fell asleep. I smile, he was finally getting some rest and I was happy with that. Considering the state he was in I doubt at the possibility of him getting any sleep. I kissed the side of his face that was still tucked on my shoulder. He nuzzled himself closer and his never faltering grip on my ribs tightened a bit.

With my good hand, I reached to my back pocket, grabbing my phone to send a text to the boys. At some point during the wall getting packed with bullets and me consoling Sherlock, I heard the taxi pull up at front, the sound of the front door opening and the unmistakable voice that belonged to John. He had attempted to go up, but Mrs. Hudson stopped him, the same thing she did to Lestrade and the same thing she did to Mike after John had asked.

I sent a text to John You can come up now. A minute later, the stairs rumbled at the footfalls of the men rushing to flat. I looked at the open door and saw all three – or two as Mike is taking his time waiting for the two to pass- dashing to check up on us. I sent a glare at them for their loud behaviour as they stepped to 221b. I shushed them and they apologized quietly.

‘Help me get him to bed please.’ I said in a nicer tone as I’ve realized I haven’t exactly been the kindest, ordering them around. Of course that’s what I was still doing but it was better to ask or demand in a kinder tone. Greg came up to us and I kissed Sherlocks temples one more time before slowly releasing his grip on me. He stirred but I managed to lull him back to his slumber. With the help of John, they carried the detective to his room and carefully -instructed by me after sending a glare- laid him on the bed. I haven’t bothered to stand up yet so when Mycroft came up to me and offered his hand, I accepted, wincing and grimacing when ache and agony shot at different part of my body. He helped me stand up steady after wobbling my steps, the numbing of sitting on the back my legs and not being fully recovered from its week rest nearly sends me tumbling on shards of glass.

‘I should be very mad at you’ he said.

‘And I cared if you were mad because…’ you retorted with a smirk. You looked past the kitchen to the bedroom just as the Lestrade popped his head out and walked back to the living room.

‘Fuck, my bag’s still in your car now isn’t it’. I sighed, exhausted from the days crusade. Before I could even attempt to move toward the door or ask someone to get it, Lestrade is already out the door. A smile creeps up my lips and I move to the kitchen, followed closely behind by Mycroft. I find a tray of tea and biscuits -no doubt left by Mrs. Hudson-. The teas gone a bit cold, but I didn’t care and take a sip of it. I’m parched and starving so I take one of the biscuits and stuff my mouth. I turn around to see Mycroft give me a disapproving look before the kitchen door opens and the landlady comes in.

‘Hello dear, its good to see you’ she greets to me with a half hug.

‘Nice to see you too Mrs. Hudson.’ I smiled pulling apart.

‘John had this with him when he came in but left it down at my flat when he got your text.’ She waved around Johns medical bag. Speaking of, he walks into the kitchen where the party seems to be as I stuff my face in biscuits and cold tea. Mrs. Hudson noticing this, scolds me and says she’ll make a new batch for the whole lot of us. Me and John say ‘thank you’ in unison and she leaves the flat.

‘What are we doing here?’ John looks at Mike who ignores him then turn to me.

‘I was going to the bedroom, but I saw these’ waving to the tray ‘and I’m starving’ reply taking a sip of the tea.

‘Yeah, speaking of, the food is still in the bag’ he nods to his bag which I’m guessing has hospital food in it.

‘Hospital food? Bleck no thanks, I’m fine with these’ gesturing to the tray again as I go take another sip of the tea to clear my throat.

‘For goodness sake enough of that’ John frustratingly releases the cup of my grip and I glare at him. He weirdly doesn’t like me drinking cold tea.

‘Eyy I wasn’t done with that’ I pout but he ignores me. He give me a once over and gesture to my stomach.

‘Your bleeding’ he say and I look down to see a red spot on my shirt.

‘Oh really, I didn’t notice’ I counter sarcastically as he picks up his bag and looks for his equipment.

‘Do it in the bedroom just’ I sigh, I’m really exhausted. I turn to Mycroft who is looking around at files attached to the strings. ‘Mike thank you for your help, please stay until Mrs. Hudson comes back with the tea then you want you can go’ I announce but get interrupted by Greg, who’s in the living room ‘In here’ I say and open my mouth to continue but get interrupted again. ‘Ey, isn’t that the shooter at the school’ He asks, pointing his thumb at the living room. Confused and intrigued, I limp on back to the living room followed by my posse, to see his pointing at the bullet ridded wall, a picture of the shooter indeed there but with a bullet hole or holes on the face. That’s what Sherlocks been shooting at. Christ.

‘Yeah, that’s him’ I sigh and continue on what I was previously saying. ‘Greg you can leave the bag anywhere, I’ll fix it later. Stay until after Mrs. Hudson’s tea then leave. Thank you for your help really.’ I smile and finally head to the bedroom, John at the heels.

As I enter the room, I find Sherlock sound asleep in the bed, on his back. The boys haven’t bothered with the sheets, so I cover him up with a blanket. I sit down carefully on the bed with the help of John, wincing every once and a while because of the pain. I lift my feet up to the bed gently, trying not to disturb my stomach anymore as he pulls out a suture kit and painkillers. I then turn to Sherlock, fix his head on pillow and stroke his head of curls, a bit greasy. I take a deep, knowing what I have to do, that I must check but its daunting. I exhale and get on with it, grabbing his arm and pulling up his sleeves. Fuck. His arm is riddled with needle scars. Too much to even count. Fuck. I look over at John who’s also staring. He’s getting angry just looking at it, so with a sigh, I cover up his arm again and gently place it back on his side. Looking back at John, he’s still staring at the arm.

‘Hey’ snapping him out of his thoughts. He looks me in the eyes, livid at how his friend is treating himself. I lift up my shirt and he diverts his gaze to my side, peeling off the pads and checking on the wound. He’s awfully silent as he puts on a pair of gloves and opens the suture kit. He remembers the painkillers though, so he covers the wound back up temporarily and gets a syringe he’s laid out and sticks it to the bottle.

‘They had horrible pain killers’ I try fill the quiet room with humour, but the hospital did have horrible meds. His features soften when he looks at me, tapping the syringe as I remove the sleeve of the cardigan. He finds a vain before sticking the needle in to give me some relief.

‘Those are good. They the one the nurse gave you?’ I ask. He nods as he goes back to the hole on my stomach. He stitches me up after sticking another needle around the area to numb it -a whole lot better than before because I can’t even feel the wound-. He’s pulling rather aggressively on the needle and while I can’t feel it, I don’t appreciate his way of releasing his anger on my skin.

‘John, If you are to keep doing that, I’m kicking you out.’ He glances back up at me and he mutters an apology before continuing his work, gently this time.

‘I’ll make him pee in a jar, just let him sleep.’ I say glancing back at Sherlock. He just looks exhausted, I’m exhausted but I want nothing more than to hold him in my arms and run my fingers through his curls but if I do that now he’ll wrap himself around me and I don’t think John would appreciate getting interrupted from his work.

‘This is worse than Mary’ I merely murmured, barely audible but it seems John heard. I run a hand up my face, leaning back, letting out a breath as John looks from me to Sherlock.

‘It could have been much more worse if you didn’t wake up’ he looks back down to finish the sutures as I look at him. He’s right of course, he always is with these things.

‘That’s it? I expected a lecture, or you be mad about me leaving the hospital.’

‘Oh, I am mad, just there’s no point of it is there when you don’t give a damn and will do what ever the hell you want anyway’ he ties of the last stitch and grabs some gauze to cover. My lips curl up into a grin knowing he is once again right about that. I hold the gauze as he tapes it up before putting another bandage just in case. He finishes and starts to clean up his things. 

‘Thank you, John. I’m really really grateful for all that you’ve done. All the things everybody’s done.’ I beam.

‘That’s it? I expected a lecture or you livid’ he humours, repeating what I said just moments before with his own twist.

‘Oh, I am. But I get it, I would have done the same with you lot, but It’s done and just thank you.’ I admit, though I still want to be cross, I get it. They care.

‘He needs you; you know. More than you know. He lost it after you didn’t wake up when they took you off the meds for the coma. You’ve somewhat replaced his high from the drugs with your own and the probable thought and loss of it just scared him, so he resorted back to the old habit.’ He explained. I take in his deduction of his best mate with the only thought bearing through the surface is that he right. The Sherlock I know now is very different from the one I met all those years ago. That hard robotic exterior now has a beating heart. He cares more than he will want to admit but he really does.

I look at mop head beside me and beam. Since John is done with tending to my wounds, I roll my shirt back down and finally let the sleeping detective wrap himself around me. He does as soon as I placed a hand on his cheek, he rolls over to my side, draping an arm over my ribs and pulling me close like he’s always done, enveloping my side with his warmth, his head snuggling and hiding itself on the crook of my neck.

I’ve spent years thinking nobody gave a damn about me. Thinking no one cares if I was dead or not. Never have I ever been more pleased to be proven wrong. All those years alone, holed up, thinking I served no purpose to this world, ready to lose what I thought was a useless life only to be brought up the wide and bright opening and end of the cornucopia. I have friends, who will stay at my bedside just to make sure I wasn’t alone when I wake up from a gunshot. A god daughter, who’s laugh brightens up the darkest shadows cast upon us, who’s lost enough people in her few years in this rock. And a partner, fiancée, who’s meant more to me and evidently, I to him than more than we both ever thought possible. We’d be lost without each other, there’s enough evidence to prove it.

I gaze back at John, eyes getting a bit droopy, I’m surprised my mind has been making long hard thoughts. He’s just standing there, staring. Creepy admittedly, but also lovingly. Sentimental, possibly thinking of Mary.

‘Hey’ I say softly, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘Go home. Sleep. Stay if you want tea from Mrs. Hudson but go home afterwards. Take the two if they’re still here. I’m going to sleep, just give Rosie a kiss for me and make everyone get some rest. Thank you again for staying with me at the hospital. Leave the mess, I’ll get it sorted.’ I instruct before a yawn escapes me. He looks back at the detective snuggled up at my side.

‘I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.’

‘And who taking care of you, he’s not the only one I’m worried about at the moment.’

‘I’ve got you lot now don’t I. I’ll phone you if I need anything. Right now, I just want to shut my eyes for a bit.’ I give him droopy smile, sleep really wanting to overcome my body. He bids his last warnings to take caution with my wounds and I wave him goodbye and goodnight. He nods and leaves the room, while I nestle myself better in the detective. His grip tightens and he nuzzles himself closer to my neck as I slowly drift off.

[gettinshiggywithit]

「ᴛɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ~」

Scenario:Gift Shopping With Yosano

Pairing: akiko Yosano x fem!reader(platonic)

Genre: fluff

A/N:Hi everyone! Hope everything thing is great and your Christmas has been merry ☺️ I got myself to write and i hope yall like it!

It was the Christmas season and yosano had gifts to buy!

And of course she made her bestie come along with her, an extra set of hands never hurt anyone~

“So, kiko, where to first?” You asked, arm interlocked with akiko.

“Hmm i think we’ll start with some dress shopping?Finding some new Christmas outfits sounds like a good place to start~” she said as she dragged you into a department store.

Red,green,black and even navy blue.

about a thousand dresses had been tried on between the two of you.

“Hmm how does this look on me?” She asked as she twirled in a sequined navy blue dress. Of course she looked magnificent, and she knew it, but your opinion meant a lot to her too.

“I think this one suits you best ‘kiko!l it goes perfectly and with the pearls you bought the other day, it’d be perfect!” You said matter of factly.

“Hmm i think you’re right! I’ll get this one, but what about you?” She asked as she disappeared back into the changing room to change back into her regular clothes.

“Hmm i think ill get the black dress i wore earlier!”

“The one with the star detailing?”

“Yup that’s the one!”

“Ooh that one didd look great on you~perfect choice y/n”

She stepped out of the dressing room and the two of you paid and checked out.

You also got a pair of black wedge heels while she chose some silver ballet heels.

“Now what?” You asked

“Now for present shopping, i havent bought the other’s gifts yet.” She said as she looked through her bag for what you assumed was a list “what about you?,” she resumed after pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.

“Yeah even I haven’t started on that yet…” you replied.

“Oh well then! Dont let me see my present.”she said with a wink

You laughed along, but little did she know you’d already bought her present! A gold and silver necklace with a butterfly charm to match her head piece.

You continued on and watched as she bought atsushi a new pair of boots, dazai,a few roles of bandages, Kunikida,a new pen(he keeps breaking his thanks to dazai),kenji a new hat, fukuzawa, a cat plushie, ranpo a gift voucher for the local sweet shop,kyouka a new bunny plushie,haruno a new blouse,mii a Christmas themed cat-costume and the tanizakis a pair of matching sweatshirts.

You followed suit and bought your colleagues presents as well and after all of that tedious work, you both gave the gifts over to be wrapped and headed to the spa to relax,after which you headed back to the ada apartments,bid farewell to eachother and it was then that you realised you hadnt seen what she’d bought for you…

Sneaky…how so very yosano of her

“Well,” you said to yourself as you snuggled in with a cup of hot cocoa, “guess ill have to wait and see.”

Tag list(open):- @diagonal-queen

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit. Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[bethesammytomydean]

How funny would it be if Cas and Eileen were in the bunker at the same time, both of them simping over a winchester brother, when in reality Sam and dean are dating

Like Eileen and Cas in the library gossiping about how much they want to date sam and dean and how long they have loved them for -- and then to Dean's room where the older winchester is fucking his little brother into the memory foam mattress

"I think eyes are windows to the soul."

Cas blinked, then frowned. "That is untrue. Eyes are not meant for that."

Eileen chuckled, looking at the angel in front of her. "I know, but it's a thing we humans say. And I think that I can see part of Sam's soul in them, he's got the kindest eyes."

Silence followed for a few moments before Cas spoke up again. "I can see Dean's soul." Eileen looked at him curiously and Cas felt the cheeks of his vessel heat up. Was he getting ill? That was impossible, was it not? "Anyone's soul, truly. But Dean has a very... bright soul."

"Does he?"

Cas nodded. "Sam does, too. But..." He trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

"Dean's is brighter to you?"

"I suppose."

"Or more beautiful?"

"Souls are complex, most of them I find beautiful," Cas pointed out. "That is what makes them so very interesting."

Eileen raised a single brow, staying silent. Cas stared right back at her, not sure why their conversation had suddenly ended.

"I suppose this is the part where I am meant to say something after I realised whatever it is I have to realise?"

"Yep," Eileen chuckled, nodding her head. "You're supposed to realise that you find Dean's soul more beautiful than others, because you're in love with him."

Cas frowned deeply. "I am an angel, I don't feel emotions the same humans do."

"Not the same, no. But you can still fall in love?"

The angel was actually not sure about it. No one had ever told him angels couldn't fall in love. Perhaps they could, but differently than humans? He did find Dean rather pleasing to look at. "I suppose we can."

Silence fell again for a few moments before Cas continued to wonder out loud.

"What does it feel like?"

"To be in love?"

"Yes. What does it feel like for you to look at Sam?"

"So you think I'm in love with Sam?"

"Are you not?"

Eileen just smiled, almost secretive, before she answered Cas' earlier question. "For me it feels warm. Whenever I see him I feel happy, he brings me comfort and makes me feel like I'm right at home."

"Which you are not."

"Blunt. But you're right, I'm not. However, that is what Sam makes me feel like. That's just what being in love does for me."

Cas nodded slowly, thinking of Dean. Whenever he was around the man he did feel warm. And comfortable. And happy. It was almost as Eileen described it.

"I feel at home with Dean."

"Yeah?"

"He is very... aesthetically pleasing."

Eileen laughed. "I'm sure he'd think that's a nice compliment, Cas."

"He has nice eyes too."

"Not as pretty as Sam's though."

"A matter of preference. Yours does not have freckles."

"I guess not. And yours doesn't have dimples."

Cas shook his head. "No, he does not. But he is perfect."

Eileen gave a soft smile, nodding her head. "Yeah, he's perfect." Silence once more. "I wonder what they're doing? They're taking a long time getting ready today, aren't they?"

Cas shrugged. "Humans take a very long time. I have no doubt they are doing something important."

---***---

Dean grunted as he pushed harder, deeper, faster into Sam. The heat around his cock was overwhelming, just as it always was. Sam never did disappoint in tightness.

"Fuck," Sam moaned out, throwing his head back against the pillows. They were on Sam's bed- Dean had taken to sleeping there when they weren't sleeping together in Dean's room. Why not sleep together? Usually they ended the day fucking and started it the same, so it only made sense to sleep in the same bed. Saved them a lot of trouble moving around all the time too. "Fuck, Dee."

"So good, Sammy." Dean groaned, one hand on Sam's hip and the other one bracing himself on the headboard. "So tight."

Sam whined, pushing himself back onto Dean's cock. He looked like a mess. His chest was covered in marks from Dean's lips and teeth, his hair was sticking in all directions and sweat covered his skin. He looked beautiful.

"Dee, ah, so good!"

Dean grunted in reply, fucking Sam harder, biting down on Sam's shoulder as he came, filling his brother with his cum again. Claiming him as his'. Between their bodies he could feel Sam's cum spilling, soaking them, connecting them.

Teeth let go of bruised skin, lips finding lips.

"I love you." Dean whispered to his soulmate.

Sam smiled, tired, content. Happy. "I love you."

[tac0tesseract]

Time Split

((Edit: Tumblr keeps eating the time-split formatting so I'm putting it in as an image instead fhejrkfhjkehjk ))

“Try it on me.”

“I will not.”

“But I have to understand.” Emma grinned, holding her arms out to the side as if needing to make herself a larger target somehow mattered here. “I can't get better at this if I can't think the way that you do.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know that's not how it works.”

“I knooooowwww, but I can at least do my best to get as close as possible. That's why we're such a good team! I do the 3D-thinking, you do the 4D, and by our powers combined…”

The smile grew. “We're invincible.”

“Yes!”

Sam sighed, though the smile remained, and he paced a little upon his projection pad. She got the sense he'd be pacing the room if he could; that he'd love nothing more than to move around so freely. It was an existence he did his best not to think about – genuinely desiring the orderly reprieve his chains brought him, while fiercely lamenting their limits. Emma wanted to do more research on how to extend his reach, but she knew that particular search history would not go unnoticed – or appreciated – on their network. Queen was giving her enough grief over Sam as it was.

“Very well,” Sam said at last. “But if I sense even a mote of discomfort, I'm returning you to normal.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course it's going to be uncomfortable. I'm a monkey! You've gotta give me time to get used to it.”

That seemed to amuse him. The flowing nebula of his hair rippled in what she'd come to know was his silent laughter. Without further ceremony, Sam extended a hand to her with his fingers pinched together. And when he opened them

It was in that instant that her own startled will kicked in, and Emma somehow snapped herself back into one piece. She sat on the floor like she'd just fallen down the stairs and stared up at him moon-eyed. His arms were still extended as if he'd meant to catch her. Sam slowly straightened. His hair went wild.

“Well that's new.”

“Have you ever used it on a person before?”

“You know how I'm going to answer that.”

Right. Never ask 'have you ever' of a Didymos.

~*~

It was a strange memory to recall in this moment, but Emma couldn't help it – not as she watched the truck-bomb split with that same telltale static that had once enveloped her. She hadn't asked Sam to do it; he'd simply deemed it necessary, knowing full well the weight of the payload it carried and how many lives depended on it. She braced for the question as to why there were two trucks now. Feren was the only other person here who wasn't spooked by NHPs; probably better to blame the time-split on the Lich and call it a day.

That sent her mind sliding elsewhere, to their earlier conversation – to the idea that she had apparently sent herself a warning from a reality where Sam wasn't there. Emma supposed that there was a timeline where Boss hadn't acquired a Didymos, either because he couldn't or didn't want to, but – surely that was a reality where either Sai got the Lich like he was supposed to, or Emma was too batshit to send herself a warning in the first place. No...the only thing that made sense was that she had somehow lost Sam in that failed timeline. And that thought...that thought made her ill.

Can't trust her...

Was the warning about Sam's killer?

“Argh. Focus...” she muttered at herself, drawing a concerned side-glance from his projection.

“Emma?”

“I'm fine. Careful with the time stuff, though. These guys aren't like our home crew, they're...kinda jumpy about it.”

“I'm not worried.”

She chuckled. “Clearly.”

He turned to her screens, as if he had the physical need to look at them. “Got the virus loaded? I'll help you deliver it. Not expecting much, but I'd still like to see whoever's in there try to keep pace with me.”

“Ooooh, I do like when you get like that, though.” Emma was suddenly glad her helmet was on, so he couldn't see how red she was.

It was a welcome distraction, though.

Over six hundred and thirty people were relying on them.

Once this started, it would be utter pandemonium.

She couldn't afford to think too much right now.

[itsscatballou]

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 6

A Negan Series

Chapter 5 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings - guns, shooting, wounds, blood, violence, captivity, illness, and some language. 18+ only.

Feedback is welcome!

This was wrong.

There were too many. How had this happened?

She’d sent a note through a Savior to Simon earlier in the day to meet her for a drink at the fire after her dinner with Negan, which meant there should be three guys along the fence: Simon at the fire on the far end, and two guys on guard.

She counted 14 right now, maybe more, they kept moving. She looked at Daryl and Sherry, hunched down beside her, the three of them hiding behind a stack of wood crates. There were enough stacks and barrels between them and the hole she’d strategically placed in the fence that in the dark of night, they could get most of the way unseen.  The last ten yards to the hole was so exposed that no matter how well they timed the run, with this many eyes looking around, they would be seen.

Everything else had gone perfectly today. Fat Joey didn’t question her at all when she told him Dwight asked her to tune up his bike and have it waiting outside the gate for him. She had a whole story ready to explain where Dwight was going and why, but he could not have cared less. He was just happy to be speaking to her. She smiled sweetly at him, and he handed her the keys without another thought.

She’d asked Sherry to deliver Dwight’s lunch to him in front of Daryl’s cell today, so she could get to her target practice early.

“Hey, before I forget,” she said to Sherry as she handed her Dwight’s tray with a BLT, pickle, and glass of iced sweet tea, “can you meet me in the stairwell after my dinner with Negan tonight? I just need to talk for a while.” Sherry agreed, happily, as she walked away with the tray of food.

Her dinner with Negan was normal, if not a little awkward after the events of the night before. They ate, they played Scrabble, and they drank. She needed the drink. She found herself a little too distracted by every move of his mouth, flashes of their encounter last night trying to make their way into her mind. She had to force herself to focus on her Scrabble tiles more than once. It didn’t help that Negan played suggestive words, with that wicked grin, every chance he got. She was starting to sweat. She offered to refill their drinks when they were about halfway through the game and left him staring at his tiles while she worked at the bar cart. She delivered a well-timed joke and they both chuckled as she tipped the small bag of crushed sleeping pills into his whiskey. Swirling the glass around as she walked back, she smiled to herself as the powder dissolved in the amber liquid.

He'd emptied the glass by the time the game finished, him beating her for the first time. She wished she’d purposefully let that happen.  She bid him goodnight. She even kissed him on the cheek before leaving, and grinned again.

Dwight was passed out in his chair outside Daryl’s cell, as she expected. She’d put enough crushed sleeping pills in both his mayo and his sweet tea to knock Fat Joey out, but she couldn’t risk him waking up and ruining it all.

Daryl stared at her wide-eyed when she opened his cell and dragged the sleeping Dwight into it. She wanted to embrace Daryl, kiss him, and explain everything, but she had the escape planned very specifically. There just wasn’t time. She settled for one deep but quick kiss and held his hands as she instructed him to follow her closely, silently, and do exactly what she said.

They tiptoed as fast as they could down the halls, only having to duck into an empty room once to hide from a passerby. When they reached the stairwell, they found Sherry where she’d said she’d be. Sherry seemed to understand what was happening as soon as she saw Daryl, and without a word followed them both down the stairs.

“Wassat?” Daryl asked her as she grabbed a backpack from a dark corner at the bottom of the stairs.

“Supplies,” she answered, flinging it on her back and motioning for them to hide against the wall while she opened the door to outside.

They crouched, scampered, and crawled in the dark, finally making it here, where she was frozen, trying to figure out what went wrong. She hadn’t planned for this many guys; there shouldn’t be this many guys.

“Wha’s wrong?” Daryl asked her, feeling her stress.

“Just let me think for a second,” she whispered back.

She knew it wasn’t possible. She couldn’t get them all out without them being seen. If they were seen, they’d be hunted down. What would follow that made her stomach turn.

She knew what she had to do.

She turned to Daryl, kissed him hard and passionately. She handed him the bag of supplies and told him, “Stay low behind the row of stacks and barrels, when you get to the end, time it so no one sees you, and make a run straight to the fence. There is a hole cut out there, you can’t see it until you’re on it. Whatever you do, just keep going. When you get to the woods, follow the cuts in the tree like you taught me, you’ll find a bike ready to go. Do not wait for me, I will find you. Take Sherry wherever she wants to go, and then you go somewhere else. Daryl,” she held his face in her hands and looked hard in his eyes, “do not go back to Alexandria. Find another community to hide in until it’s safe to contact Rick.”

She looked at Sherry, “whatever happens here, keep going. Make him keep going.”

Sherry hugged her as she said, “I will. Thank you.”

Daryl started to argue, but she gently pushed him. She watched as they turned and slipped away into the dark.

When they’d gotten far enough away, she took a deep breath and stood, stepping into the flood lights. All the guys stopped moving and looked at her. She looked toward Simon, who should have been expecting her, and her heart stopped. Standing right beside him, with his arms crossed and Lucille hanging from one hand, was Negan. Well, his sleeping pills didn’t work, she thought.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “well, boys, it looks like you were telling me the truth. Unlike Y/N here, who has been lying to me…”

When she said nothing, Negan turned to Simon, “I believe you two were going to be having a drink together? Well, what the hell? Let’s have a drink!”

And there it was, exactly what she needed. What Daryl and Sherry needed. “Negan, I’m so glad you’re joining us!” she exclaimed, seeing a flash of surprise across of Negan’s face at her response. “I love having drinks around the fire with friends! In fact, why don’t we invite everyone?”

She spun in a half circle, looking at each Savior in area. “Negan and I would like to invite you all to have a drink with us right now,” and when only a few moved toward her she added, “on Negan!”

They all moved at that, smiles spreading across their faces, and some swatting her arm in thanks as they passed. She smiled at Negan as they all filed in around the fire, far from the fence Daryl and Sherry should be approaching now.

She thought she heard the ting of metal moving. She smiled to herself.

She spent the next hour and a half making her rounds with the guys at the fire, joking with most of them, asking some of them about their girlfriends or wives. Everyone enjoying the beers she’d provided on Negan’s tab. When she felt she’d given Daryl and Sherry a big enough safety net of time, she said her goodnights and made her way back to the building.

She was almost to the door when Negan called from the group, “Y/n! You can’t go yet! You and Simon barely spoke, and I for one, would like to know what it was you wanted to talk about that brought you out in on this cold night, sneaking around like a rat, to talk in the dark…”

------

She braced herself for whatever he was about to say or do. She could almost see the fury radiating from him in waves. It no longer mattered what happened to her, she could handle it. Or maybe she couldn’t. That was fine, too. Daryl was out, he could be with his family again. He could do good, be good out there. Somehow, he and Rick would take Negan down, she had no doubt about that. Hopefully she would live to see it, she thought, as she saw the rage in Negan’s eyes directed at her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it wasn’t his voice that escaped his mouth, it was a boom. A gunshot. No, it didn’t come from his mouth, it had come from somewhere behind him. Was someone shooting? Time seemed to slow. She felt a pang in her thigh, she looked down. There was blood, dark and thick, insidiously oozing from a hole in her pants, where the sting came from. Her legs gave out in that moment, and she was on the ground. She could no longer hear anything around her, could only feel the pain. She was on fire. She gripped at her thigh, a wounded animal panicking. She needed to calm down, get help, breathe. When was the last time she took a breath? She willed herself to suck in air, her head clearing some with the effort. She winced as she forced herself into a sitting position and took another breath. Apply pressure, she told herself, stop the bleeding until someone gets the doctor. She pressed, screaming at the added pain, her vision fading at the edges. She breathed again and kept pressing. Why was no one coming to help? Her ears cleared, and she knew without looking that no one would be. She raised her head to see blurs of legs as people ran past her, she heard men yelling, some screaming in pain, more gunshots. There were others here, now. Their faces were covered with what looked like ski masks.

She needed to get somewhere safe or get to some weapons. She tried to stand, stumbled back down, vision almost completely black from the effort. She tried again. Successfully on her feet now, she raised upright to evaluate the best direction to go. She saw it happen from her peripheral, but not in time to stop the metal cylinder from connecting with her skull. She barely had time to register the pain erupt from her temple before she was unconscious.   

She felt the pain before she knew she was awake. She’d never felt anything like it, she could barely breathe she hurt so badly. She couldn’t decide what parts of her hurt worse – her left thigh was still screaming with pain. Her head throbbed, a sharp pain radiating from her right cheek. She could taste blood, and guessed at her stuffy nose that she must have fallen on her face. The pain on her back was new – it stung, as cool air whispered against raw skin. She must have been dragged, she realized. Dragged where?

She opened her eyes. Well, she tried. Only her left eye would open, the swelling from her right cheek forcing that eye closed. Her head still drooping, she was looking at her lap. Her left pant leg was soaked in her own blood. She slowly lifted her hand to survey her head wound, but it wouldn’t move. She noticed then the ropes tying her hands behind her, uncomfortable as her elbows awkwardly tried to bend around the chairback behind her. She saw similar ropes restraining her feet to the legs of the chair she sat in. Do not panic, she told herself, assess.

As slowly as possible, to avoid blacking out, she raised her head. She saw a dark room lit by several camping lanterns placed on the floor. Concrete walls with no windows, some large iron equipment and pipes, possibly a boiler room? She and the lamps were the only occupants. She carefully turned her head, searching for a door. She heard one open behind her, and light flooded the floor in front of her, shadowed by her own hunched figure. “She’s awake,” a man’s voice said.

Two sets of footsteps approached behind her. Another voice said, “We know you’re in some considerable pain…” she didn’t respond. “We’d like to help you, if you want that.”

He waited for her to answer. She didn’t.

“We wouldn’t ask for much in return,” the first voice added, “just some information.”

“You gonna make me talk to the wall or come around and face me like men?” she growled, the effort of speaking sending the pain in her cheek rioting through her head.

One of them chuckled. “I would bet money that spirit is what attracted Negan to you,” he said as he moved in front of her and crouched to meet her eyes. He surveyed her face and whistled, “it might have been your face too, before this.” He touched her cheek on the last word, and she flinched away from him at the fire hot pain it sent through her.

“Shooo, I bet that does hurt.” He cooed at her. She glared as best she could with one open eye.

“We have some medicine, a doctor here, that could at least make that hurt less,” he said, “all we need to know is how many people Negan has working for him, and where they are stationed.”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she said nonchalantly. She couldn’t think clearly from the pain, but she knew she didn’t want to give these assholes anything they wanted. “I think I’m good.”

The man in her face smiled, the smile not unlike one she’d seen on Negan’s face plenty of times, before making a point. “Well, I guess we need to change that,” he said viciously, before his right hand made forceful contact with her left jaw, sending her head flying right, only to see the back hand of the other guy flying toward her wounded cheek. She went unconscious again.

When she woke the next time, she heard thumping. Unrhythmic, sporadic, and it was coming from several different directions. She heard her two new friends talking in low, panicked voices behind her. “I thought we’d have more time!” one of them said, “how did they find us after only two days?” “I don’t know, but we gotta do something.” “What? They have us surrounded, and they’ve already killed most of our people!” The pause in their conversation gave her mind a chance to catch up, to realize what she was heard was gunshots.

“Did you really think,” her words were slow, the effort of talking through her newly bruised jaw slowing her down, “you could hit him at home, and he wouldn’t retaliate?” The guys moved from the door to stand in front of her while she talked. “You didn’t even know how many people he had, and you thought you could beat him?” she forced a laugh through the excruciating pain.

“You think this is funny, bitch?” one of them responded. “Well I’ll show you what I think is funny,” he said, lifting his metal pipe, the one she assumed gave her the busted face, like a baseball bat.

“I would not do that if I were you,” a familiar villainous voice growled from the door behind her, and her heart fluttered. Negan was here. For her. She was surprised at the relief she felt. “Not that holding back now will save you.”

Two Saviors appeared from behind her, holding guns. Her captors raised their hands, and the Saviors forced them to their knees. She felt her wrist restraints cut and fall, and rubbed her arms as she watched Negan cut her foot restraints. He placed her arm around his shoulder and helped her to stand on her good foot. With most of her weight leaning on him, he helped her to limp toward the door. She stopped him before they exited and turned back toward the room.

“If I can’t be the one to do it, I need to see it,” she told him. He nodded in understanding, and then toward the Saviors. She didn’t flinch at all at the gunshots, or as their lifeless bodies hit the floor.

Negan picked her up, then, carrying her from the room. He rushed down passages, and out through double doors. Blinking her good eye against the blinding sun, she heard continued shooting, and saw bodies, both Saviors and not, on the ground as Negan ran with her toward a truck. He placed her in the passenger seat as easily as he could and made for the driver’s side. She heard him yell orders to whoever was near as he climbed in and started the truck, not hesitating before throwing it in reverse and speeding away from the battle.

------

The truck sputtered and steam flooded from the hood.

“Shit.” Negan grumbled as the truck came to a stop on its own. “It must have been shot before we got away.” He frantically searched the cab of the truck. “Of course there is no damn radio in here! Is everyone an idiot?”

He thought for a moment, and finally asked, “Can you walk at all?”

It was the first time he’d spoken to her since they’d fled, they had been driving for about thirty minutes. “I… um, I can try,” she replied.

She steeled herself. This was going to hurt, but she knew there was no alternative. With all the gunfire, they didn’t know how many walkers were on their way toward them, and who knew how long it would be until their guys started heading back. If there were any guys left to come back… she shook the thought from her head as Negan opened her door and helped her out of the truck.

Immediately she knew she couldn’t do this, but she refused to tell Negan that. Refused to let him see the severity of her pain. So she began trying to find a rhythm of step, lean into him, hop. Each hop sent a white-hot flare of pain through her whole body, but she kept going. She was grateful that he would stop often to let her catch her breath, using the time to also wiggle her jaw, which was getting stiff and even more sore from clenching her teeth.

She guessed they’d been slowly hobbling down the road for about two hours when they saw an old barn ahead, a short distance from the road, in a field. He jerked his chin in the barn’s direction and said, “we need to stop here for the night.” It was nearly dusk already, and she knew if they kept going, they would risk tripping in the dark. The thought of that pain alone made her flinch.

Inside the barn, Negan gathered a mound of hay and gently set her down on it. After securing the doors behind them, he sat down across from her, resting his head against the wall behind him and closing his eyes. She watched as he seemed to be calming himself down, if she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was meditating.

“Who were those guys?” she asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“One of the communities we own,” he said without opening his eyes, “we caught one of them at the Sanctuary when they took you. Took the bastard a whole day to break and tell us where they’d taken you. It took us half the next day to get there.” He finally lifted his head and surveyed her, lingering on her wounds. “It’s gonna be a long walk back…”

She nodded, fighting back the stinging tears at the thought of the long journey ahead of her tomorrow.

He moved to her, gingerly touching her wounded face and looking more closely at the wounds in the fading rays of light barn walls were allowing in. He met her eyes, still lightly holding her face in his hands. It hurt, but she didn’t mind.  

“I saw you go down,” he said slowly, “from the first shot. But I didn’t see where they’d hit you. By the time I got to where you fell, you were gone. I thought you were dead, until Simon said he saw them load you up and take off.” His eyes shone with pain.

“I didn’t know if anyone would come for me,” she said softly. She hadn’t admitted it to herself in that boiler room, but she had not been hopeful of making it back out of there. “When I heard you…” her voice broke as her tears finally flooded. He gently pulled her into his chest and wrapped her in his arms as she wept. When she stopped, she said into his shirt, “we really gotta stop hanging out like this.” They both chuckled as they separated.

It was dark now, and the temperature was dropping. Negan made a dugout in the hay and helped her to lay down in it. Once she was settled, he settled in behind her, pulling her close for warmth. They laid that way for a long time, listening to each other breathe, when she eventually broke the silence.

“I believe I still have two free questions,” she said in lighthearted tone.

“You definitely used two already,” he quipped back.

“Yes, but you only answered one of them,” she said, lightly pressing him with her elbow. “So, I get the second one back.”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, pulling her a little closer and nestling her head under his chin.

She laid there a few more minutes before asking, “you showing up there today, was that… well, was that to find me? Or for retaliation for attacking you?”

He didn’t answer for long enough that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. “It wasn’t about retaliation,” he said finally. “As for your other question… Lucille was my wife, before. And during. She died, because of me… because of my inaction. I wasn’t going to let inaction be the cause of your death, too.” Something in her ached at his response, some twinge beginning of understanding how he’d become the Negan she knew.

The cold crept deeper into her. She shivered, despite the warmth Negan wrapped around her.

As she succumbed to a pressing urge to sleep, she thought she heard Negan say, “you are burning up.”

------

When she woke up, she was in Negan’s bed in the Sanctuary. An IV in her arm snaked to two pouches of liquids hung from a metal pole beside the head of the bed. She couldn’t remember getting here. In fact, she couldn’t remember much at all following the night in the barn. There were brief flashes of trees rushing past while Negan carried her, the doctor holding her non-wounded eye open and flashing a light into her eye, and the occasional voice talking to her, or someone beside her. It was an unnerving feeling, remembering nothing between one place and the next, but somehow knowing that time had passed.

She realized suddenly how dry her mouth was, and how thirsty she felt. She looked around the room to find a glass of water on the nightstand beside her. Beside the nightstand, in the leather armchair that used to be in the sitting area, Negan slept. He couldn’t have been comfortable, she thought, with his neck at that angle against the back of the chair. He looked a little haggard. Dark circles under his eyes, his scruff longer than he usually kept it, his hair unwashed and a little unkempt. He stirred as she reached for the water glass, just slightly too far away, and sat up when he realized she was awake. He stood, handed the glass to her, and walked out of the room. A moment later, he returned with the doctor.

As he assessed her, she asked questions to fill in the gaps. Her bullet wound was a good one – all the way through, no major arteries nicked, it didn’t hit bone. It would take some time and some effort, but the muscle it pierced would heal and she’d be able to walk again. It had become infected while she was tied up, and the infection had gone deep. Her fever had gotten dangerously high, which explained her sleeping through the last four days. Her cheekbone was likely fractured, though he expected it to heal well, too. Her nose had been reset, and her jaw and cheek bruises were already turning shades of greens and yellows. The swelling had receded enough that she could open her right eye enough to see out of. She turned down the offer to see herself in a mirror. Negan listened intently, not saying anything and not meeting her eyes.

The doctor left her with orders to drink as much water as she could, eat as much as she could, and sleep as much as she could. Once the infection cleared and the gunshot wound had closed, she could start working on walking again.

She looked at Negan, who was staring at the door the doctor had shut behind him.

“I vaguely remember you carrying me through the woods… you must have nearly killed yourself carrying me that far. I can’t thank you enough,” she said, meaning every word. He did not turn his head.

“I can ask the doctor to help me move to my room, so you can have your bed back.”

“No,” was all he said, before leaving her alone.

She told herself not to stress about whatever that was. If it was about her, he’d eventually have it out with her, and if it wasn’t then it would go away. But sitting there, in his bed, with nothing to do but think, stressing about it is what she did. She went over every possible reason he would be pissed at her, when she was literally unconscious for four days. After an hour or so of spiraling, the door opened, and she was surprised to see Tanya enter with a tray of food. Tanya set the tray up on the bed and made her way to sit in the chair near the bedside.

“Um,” she said to Tanya, with a raised eyebrow, “thank you?”

Tanya seemed to know she wasn’t asking about the food and explained. “Negan sent me to sit with you for a while. If you need anything I can get it for you. Or I guess if you want to talk, that’s what I’m here for, too.” Then she added, quietly, “which will be a nice change of pace.”

“Wait,” she asked Tanya, pulling the tray of food closer, “what does that mean?”

“Oh,” Tanya pushed a breath out of her nose in a sort-of laugh, “you’ve just been asleep every time I’ve been in here before.”

“You... you came to see me?” she was surprised. She and Tanya weren’t exactly friends. With Sherry gone, she wasn’t sure she had any friends here anymore.

“Well… Negan didn’t want you to be alone. He sat with you almost all of the time, but if he had to leave for whatever reason, he sent one of us to be with you. Said we had to stay awake in case you woke up.”

“I guess that explains why he looked so rough,” she commented.

Tanya replied, “yeah, I don’t think he’s had much sleep since he carried you in.”

She contemplated all of this while she ate the food Tanya had brought her. It didn’t take her long, she found with the first bite that she was famished.

When she finished her meal, she asked Tanya to fill her in on what she’d missed. She put on her best surprised face when Tanya told her Daryl had escaped. As Tanya informed her that when Negan was gathering the troops to come after her and her captors, they’d discovered Dwight missing, and the wives had not seen Sherry for a while either. They assumed both had run away together. Then two days ago, Negan suddenly remembered Daryl was locked up and with Dwight gone, no one was making sure he was fed, but they opened the cell to find Dwight in there, half-starved and feral. He said Sherry had drugged his food, and he woke up in Daryl’s cell.

“Sherry and Daryl ran away together?” she asked Tanya, dumbfounded.

Tanya couldn’t believe it either, “Negan was furious. He sent Simon and a group to Alexandria to find Daryl, but they haven’t been able to find him.”

She didn’t let Tanya see the relief she felt. This had worked out surprisingly well for her. She had planned to deal with Dwight later, though she hadn’t quite decided how at the time she’d locked him up. And Daryl had listened to her and didn’t go find Rick, that, too, was a relief.

After a few more minutes of chitchat, and Tanya getting a couple of books for her to read while she was bedbound, she told Tanya she was feeling very tired. According to Tanya, Negan wanted Tanya in there anyway, so she got a book for herself, and moved to Negan’s couch.

Sleep quickly consumed her, and she woke hours later to find Negan gently shaking the foot of her good leg to rouse her.

“Dinner,” he grunted, motioning to the tray on the bed.  He helped her into a sitting position before seating himself in the chair beside the bed.

“You don’t want to eat, too?” she asked him. 

“No,” he bluntly replied. Still in a mood.

She ate in silence for a few minutes. She was trying to decide how to proceed in conversation when he beat her to it.

“Free question,” he declared. “And don’t lie this time.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “When did I lie to you?” she asked him, not looking away from her stew as she took a spoonful.

“When I asked you before why you were really here. You lied. I want the truth this time.”

Her food turned leaden in her stomach, and she suddenly had no appetite.

“You came here to get Daryl out, didn’t you?”

She looked up at him, held his hard stare.

“Yes.”

“And you succeeded, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I knew the moment we couldn’t find Dwight and Sherry was gone, too, there was more to it than them running away. They’d already tried that and failed miserably; Dwight is too spineless to try a second time. And that douchebag in Alexandria, Spencer, he’d let it slip that you and Daryl had a little thing going before you met me… so, I checked Daryl’s cell,” he confessed, “and who did I find, sleeping like a baby, not a scratch on him?”

“Negan,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Here’s the other thing, you didn’t just drug Dwight and get Daryl out… you tried to drug me, too. Didn’t you?”

She didn’t respond.

“I took one sip of that whiskey and could tell something was off about it. But I wanted to see what you were doing.”

She swallowed down the bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t run, she knew screaming would be useless. All she had on this tray was a spoon and some hot stew… she could throw it in his face, but that would only piss him off… she had no option but to take whatever punishment he had in store for her.

“Are you going to burn my face?” she asked him, no fear in her voice.

He stared at her for a long time before responding.

“No,” he said, defeat laced his tone. “No. You covered your tracks well. Dwight believes Sherry drugged him, and everyone else believes it, too.”

She loosed a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wanted to thank him, but she didn’t think he’d receive it well.

They sat in silence for the rest of the evening, Negan removing her tray when she didn’t touch it for a while. He retreated to the bathroom, and she heard the shower turn on. She settled in, feeling tired again, and closed her eyes. Sleep didn’t come, but she kept her eyes closed, as Negan completed his shower and came back into the room. She heard him click lamps off, his footsteps moving around the room. She felt the bed dip as he climbed in beside her.

He'd found her out, revealed her plans, she had confessed it all, and now he was going to sleep beside her. She turned to her side to find his bare back facing her.

She knew she shouldn’t press her luck, but now curiosity was getting the best of her.

“If you knew when those guys took me… why did you come for me? Why lose all those guys to get me back?”

She watched his back decompress as she sighed, and then as he turned to his side to face her.

“How is the answer to that not obvious by now?”

She searched his eyes and watched as they moved to her mouth and then back to her eyes. He moved in close, their lips nearly touching. Then he kissed her. This kiss was not like the last time he kissed her. This was gentle, passionate, soft but powerful. She kissed him back.

When he pulled away from the kiss several minutes later, her silently cursing her wounds and the IV preventing them from going further, Negan said softly to her, “you will have to decide one of these days. You can try to survive with Daryl, or you can thrive here with me. You can’t be in my bed and his, too.” With that, he turned over and went to sleep.