#thank you overgrown i owe you my life

[tornado1992]

The grief Sonic must’ve felt the first time he saw the yellow spots appearing in baby Tails’ brown fur.

Like, “hey, the kid is growing up”, but “oh, my kid is growing up”

[cocteaucherry]

trials and tribulations

summary- falling in love with your sworn enemy was not something you planned.

cws- p&p au/ bridgerton au, inaccurate use of regency language, 18+, misogyny, talk of pregnancy, foul language, future smut in later chapters, slow slow burn, LENGTHY descriptions

(a/n- the first chapter was running into 2k words so I split it up and edited it <33 I hope you enjoy

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife”

“So it's true that they're rather wealthy?”

“Well ONE of them are rather wealthy, the other not so much.”

“Doesn’t matter if they're both handsome.

“Ugh shoko don't say that”

You sat on the uncomfortable couch stopping your knitting to take part in the conversation, Shoko and Utahime, your lifelong friends sat across from you rather giddy about the wealthy newcomers

“What? It's true.” Shoko grinned her brown hair only reaching past her chin, “Makes the whole ‘being bound’ for life thing much easier.”

Utahime nodded, standing to walk across the small parlor, she sat on the small stool of the pianoforte playing a single note. “That, if men are gonna set the standard we might as well use it to our advantage.”

You rolled your eyes setting your needle and thread to the side, “So by finding an attractive wealthy man is taking advantage?”

“Yeah” they said in unison before giggling.

“Come on Y/n! Who really wants to be married with many children before twenty-five, some women may but not me! I'd like my twenties to amount to more than just my womb.” utahime exclaimed before tightly shutting her mouth when your mother walked in.

While she looked like a term cold woman she was really the best caring mother you could wish for in these times, “Good evening ladies,” your mother nodded with a curt smile, “I'm guessing you all have heard the news?”

“The well-off lads with handsome faces coming to town? No we haven't,” you smirked standing up before your mother’s hands were immediately attached to your shoulders, “This is your time my dear! For you to make your mark and to finally marry!”

Utahime and Shoko had to stifle their laughter.

You looked back with an annoyed grimace on your face as your mother moved to grip your hands, “My dear, you know why I worry, I worry for all of you like my own children.. As you all approach spinster age we mothers grow worried.”

Shoko and Utahime groaned in comparison their mothers had given them the same speech, “Now, I want the both of you to get on home and prepare for their welcoming ball-”

“WE WERE INVITED-” all of your voices rose in a confused squeal before your mother hushed them.

“Invitations were sent out this afternoon-”

“Mother you didn't tell me?!” you whispered yelled as you rushed over to utahime.

“I was going to-”

“Utahime can I please borrow your ribbons?” you pleaded.

“But that's my favorite!”

“Come onnnn pleaseee”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“So his name is Satoru Gojo?” you and Shoko stared at the invitation, very impressed by the amount of time and possibly money spent into the thick piece of paper.

“Yeah, I've never seen him but I've heard things. Like how he's conceited and doesn't exactly rub people the right way.” Utahime scoffed at the frill on her delicate dress.

“Oh so your ideal husband?” you grinned jokingly as you felt Shoko flick your forehead, “Ow!” you hissed in pain, whining , rubbing your forehead.

“Thank you Shoko, how far are we?” Utahime peeked out the carriage window to immediately be star struck, “look look!” she pointed, and you a shoko to foot to look out.

You all had passed by the manor countless times, nothing was particularly jaw-dropping about its size but that was it, looking at it from a new angle it was glorious. The overgrown fauna had been trimmed and lights took over all the dark areas, different flowers had overtaken the walls and it was truly breathtaking.

“This is..”

“Amazing, yeah,” you said breathtakingly as the carriage came to an abrupt stop, you heard the voice of your mother and father ahead of you (the adults had opted for a separate carriage) the door to the carriage opened as she quietly ushered you out, “Come come!”

Once you all had approached the entrance you were hit with the strong smell of flowers and expensive perfume, your nose scrunched as you all stepped through the wide open doors. marble statues and flowers hung everywhere, “Think they have enough flowers?” you whispered to Shoko with a grin as you tried your best to not bump into any of the guests.

“We just arrived and I'm already overstimulated.” Utahime groaned before getting stopped by your mother, “Before you leave remember you are here to make a marvelous impression, don't disappoint me.” she stuck a finger out before placing a kiss on your cheek and disappearing into the crowd of people.

“Well, ladies.” Shoko hummed with a grin, “I say we go dance,” she grinned wrapping an arm around Utahime’s neck, “Actually, I'm going to find the wine, you two have fun.” she quickly walked away leaving Shoko to scoff and immediately grab your hand, “C’monnn y/n.. Please..”

“Fine! Fine! Let's go!” you giggled,

As the band played loudly you and Shoko continuously danced, eventually forgetting the whole reason you had come, “Shokoo, how are you not tiredd?” you panted continuing to spin around your dance partner, ��goodness you're too weak.” she grinned at you spinning around her own dance partner.

The music had halted and Shoko immediately fell to your side, “And I'm weak?” you laughed smirking as you gripped onto the brunette's arm.

The room suddenly went quiet, hushed mummers filled the room as the guests around you stepped back. “He’s here he’s here!” Shoko whispered quietly tugging on your hand to strap back, “Gojo?-“ you were shushed immediately as your attention was bought to the wide opened door.

A tall slender frame, a beautifully dark blue tailored suit was complimented by his snow white locks, his bright blue eyes scanned the room as a small smile appeared on his face. Accompanying him was a person who you hadn’t seen before, long jet black black hair tied into a bun, his jet black suit offsetting his amber eyes.

“Who’s that?” You whispered to Shoko keeping your eyes on the men as they began to walk towards the cleared aisle everyone had made, “One with the white hair obviously Satoru Gojo, the one next to him I’m guessing is his trusted friend Suguru Geto.”

You nodded confusingly as people bowed next to you, you and Shoko bowed in tandem as they walked by, Geto spared a small glance to you before hurriedly looking away the same stoic look taking place on his face.

“Hm-“ you sighed quietly taking your hands off the fabric of your dress as the two men made their way down the walkway, once they reached the end the music resumed and the breath you didn't know you were holding came out. Were you that nervous?

As you were lost in thought you were quickly bought out by the hands of your mother gripping your soldier, “Did you see how handsome he was? We must introduce you immediately!” your mother pleaded, grabbing your hand, you turned to Shoko with pleading eyes and a smile appeared in her face, “Yeah come on!”

Oh this woman-

before you could release a string of insults you were being pulled away by Shoko, your mother following suit. “Shoko! Please please please-” you shut your mouth as you stood in front of the infamous man known as Satoru Gojo and his friend.

You felt your palms begin to sweat as you were placed upon the beautiful man, your nervousness only skyrocketed as you felt the suffocating glare of Suguru Geto cast over you.

“Mr Gojo and Mr Geto.” your mother bowed with a smile, “My daughter y/n l/n and her friend Shoko Ieiri.” as you and Shoko began to bow you were met with a laugh coming from the white-haired man.

“Please, there's no need for bowing.. I'm not that formal,”

“Satoru..” his black-haired friend began as Gojo quickly shushed him.

“So Miss Shoko and Y/N.. Oh I almost forgot about my wet blanket here, Mr. Suguru Geto, careful he doesn't care for lively things.”

A vein appeared above Geto’s eyebrow as he clenched his jaw. “I'm the one with actual sense.” he quickly retorted which caused Gojo to frown.

“Well I'll leave you both to it,” your mother interrupted, placing a kiss on your cheek before whispering, “Don't mess this up.” she plastered on a smile before walking away into the crowd of people.

Shoko cleared her throat before looking at the two men, “So, how are you two settling into the town?”

“Lovely-”

“Horrible-”

Gojo looked over annoyingly at his friend flicking his arm, “What he means is-”

“No no, please enlighten me Mr. Geto” his body tensed at you saying his name, “What is so horrible about this town?” you questioned a sickly sweet smile taking over your features.

“For one, the architecture is overly simplified-”

“Oh, what a surprise a small town doesn't fit Mr. Geto’s standard.”

Gojo grinned a small laugh leaving his mouth, “Well, you both sound lovely with a great sense of humor.”

“Well thank you, I think it’s time me and my friend get going.. we enjoyed talking with both of you.” Shoko curtsied as you did too, you turned and left Shoko following after.

Once you were out of earshot Gojo looked towards his friend with a grin, “they’re both rather cute aren't they?”

Geto scoffed, shaking his head, “Miss. Ieiri seems a rather pleasant Miss. L/N I’m not so sure.”

The white haired male laughed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Maybe I’ll try my luck with her then?”

A vein appeared in Geto’s neck as his fist tightened and Gojo pointed it out, “Got you, you’re too easy to read my dear friend..” he smirked, walking away into the crowd.

Suguru shook his accusation off his eyes searching for your hair but couldn’t be found, he DIDNT want anything to do with you.

At least that’s what he told himself.

[ereardon]

The Backup || Chapter 2

[Jake Seresin x Reader]

A friends with benefits AU

Overview: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Chapter summary: Y/N goes on a first date with someone and sparks fly; Jake shows his first crack of jealousy

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing

WC: 3.3K

Previous chapter here; masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

“He’s hot!” 

You turned your head to where Phoenix was pointing and grimaced. Goatee, Chelsea boots, jeans skinnier than yours. “Is this 2014?” you asked, turning back to the table and putting your hands on the sticky wood. “No thanks. Going to get a second round. Want anything?” 

“Rum and coke.” 

You pushed your way to the busy bar, propping your elbows up and flagging the bartender. “Rum and coke and a tequila soda please.” 

He nodded, turning away and you looked back at the table. A tall blond was chatting up Phoenix, one of his arms looped around the back of her chair. You rolled your eyes. Everyone always flocked to Phoenix. Men, women, it didn’t matter. She had that carefree attitude that attracted people like flies to honey. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t jealous. Her taste was abysmal but that was besides the point. She had options, and you envied that.

“Here you go.” The waiter set the drinks down. “Twenty two dollars.” 

“Let me get that for you.” A voice from your left appeared out of thin air. You turned. A credit card extended from his massive hand, held out over the bar. The arm was covered in a leather jacket, and you trailed your eyes up his arm to his face which hovered a good foot above you or more. Dark hair, slightly overgrown, and a sharp jawline with a slightly hawkish nose. His eyes flickered down toward you and you felt your heart throb in your chest. 

“I have a tab,” you interrupted, sticking out one hand, putting it over his hand that hovered out with a credit card glued between two massive fingers. You didn’t pull away and neither did he. 

The bartender’s voice interrupted. “Name?” 

“Natasha,” you replied, and he moved away, tapping Phoenix’s name into his system and finding her card from when the two of you had arrived an hour before.

You felt a rush of air as the stranger’s hand pulled away, sliding his credit card back into a thin black wallet. He looked down at you from where he was leaning against the bar. “Now I owe you a drink, Natasha.” 

You shook your head but he never flinched. “Natasha is my friend over there.” You pointed at Phoenix who was now laughing with a new person, this time a girl wearing a tight miniskirt. “I’m Y/N.” 

His voice was deep. “I’m Liam.”

He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. A mysterious almost Adam Driver-like quality. You leaned forward, pressing one leg against his. “Here.” You reached into your purse, tugging at a loose business card and holding it out. “If you were serious about that drink.” 

Liam held the card up in the dim lighting of the bar, one thick black eyebrow raised as he read off the card. He lowered it, sliding it into his pocket, inching forward, musk filling the air around you. “Are you here to meet guys, Y/N, or to get stock tips?” 

You tossed your head back in a laugh. When you caught Liam’s eye he was smiling, lips pulled tightly together but in a grin. “I know better than to look for tips at a bar in the Marina,” you replied. “I’d just go to the Philz at Embarcadero.” 

Liam’s lip twitched up. “I’ll let you get back to your friend.” 

“Thanks for the hypothetical promise of a drink,” you replied, picking up both drinks. 

Liam’s hand reached out, fingers spread across your bare wrist. “Y/N.” His voice was deep and gruff; it scratched that inner part of your ear that felt like a tickle. You looked up, eyes wide. “I’ll call you.” 

You grinned. “You better.” You could feel his gaze, hot on your back, as you made your way back to the table where Phoenix was now alone. 

“That took ages. What was the hold up?” 

You looked back at the bar. Liam held up his drink with a wink. You turned back to Phoenix, taking a sip of your tequila soda. “Nothing. Just some guy.” 

“Some guy, huh? Any potential?” 

You snuck one last look at the bar. Liam’s spot was empty. You turned back to Phoenix and shrugged. “Probably not.” 

***

“You can’t seriously think this looks good.” 

Coyote walked out of the fitting room in a pair of green chinos and a quarter zip sweater layered over a white shirt. You stood up from the chair and reached for his collar, fussing with it as he grimaced. 

“Y/N,” he groaned. 

“Stop fidgeting,” you snapped. He dropped his hands to his sides and you gripped his shoulders, pivoting him toward the three-pane mirror. “You’re insane, this looks perfect.” 

“I feel like a Ken doll.” 

You opened your mouth to respond as an older woman appeared behind the two of you. “Aren’t you two a lovely couple!” 

Coyote’s face in the mirror transformed into a sigh. It wasn’t the first or third or tenth time someone had mistaken the two of you for a couple. Sometimes it was hard not to. Whether it was picking out new clothes at a J. Crew or Christmas tree shopping in Oakland or late at night at the bar, his arm slipped around the back of your chair, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“Oh we’re not together,” you replied after a moment. 

The lady frowned. “Why not?” 

You looked up at Coyote. Why not was a good question. He was everything you wanted in a partner. Strong and stable and kind. He could predict your needs based on your mood and he wanted the very best for you. 

Coyote smiled down at you. You grinned at him. Why not was only for you two to know. 

***

“Fuck!” 

You slammed back against the mattress, chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin from where you laid naked in Jake’s bed. He looked over at you with a smirk. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, slapping one hand over your eyes, blocking him out. 

Jake laughed, one hand squeezing your thigh. His grip was tight and familiar. “You love it,” he replied, rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers. “Want some pizza? I have some in the fridge.” 

“Yeah, sure.” As Jake rounded the corner into the kitchen you reached for your phone on the nightstand, a voicemail from an unknown number blinking on the homepage. Frowning, you clicked on it. 

Hi Y/N, this is Liam, from Tostado’s bar. What are you doing on Wednesday night? I’d really like to see you again. And I still owe you that drink. Call me when you can. Talk soon.

Jake returned with a box of pizza and two beer bottles wedged between his fingers on one hand. “Everything OK?” 

You smiled, sliding the phone face-down onto the table. “Yeah, everything’s great.” 

***

“Tell me again who this is?” Coyote pinched a french fry between his fingers and popped it into his mouth. 

“His name is Liam, we met at a bar last weekend.”

“And how do we know Liam isn’t a serial killer?” 

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink, leaning back into the plush seat of the restaurant booth. “Javy, are we really going to do this again?” 

He sighed. “I just worry about you.” 

“I know you do. But I’m a big girl. And besides, don’t you want me to find someone?” 

“Of course I do.” It was a thin whisper. 

“What did I miss?” Jake slid into the seat to your left, immediately reaching for his beer. 

“Y/N has a date tomorrow,” Coyote said. 

Jake’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that so? What’s his red flag?” 

“He has none.” 

Jake laughed but it sounded empty. “Sounds like bullshit to me. They all have red flags.”

“Just because you date teeny boppers with the emotional intelligence of an eraser doesn’t mean I do, too.” 

“Not my fault you pick the biggest losers on the planet to date in a city that’s literally chock full of startup geniuses.”

Coyote watched with wide eyes as you and Jake laid into each other. Your face was practically red. After a pause you leaned back and shook your head. “New subject. Has anyone seen Bradley’s new motorcycle?” 

Jake launched into a full rundown of the specs of Bradley’s new bike. You finished your pasta, nodding in rapt attention, but the heat of Coyote’s gaze was undeniable. At one point, you looked up to catch him staring at you, head tipped, like he was solving a puzzle. You smiled, and he did, too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You turned back to Jake, trying to ignore the pinch in your stomach. 

***

The wind rippled through your hair as Liam returned from the bar with two drinks. He smiled broadly, lips spread back but still closed. You held out a hand, wrapping it around the plastic cup. “Thanks.” 

Liam took his place next to you near the boat railing, the water splashing high on the sides. “Is this what you had in mind for a first date?” 

You shook your head. When he had first suggested the two of you take a nighttime tour of Alcatraz you had been surprised. But it turned out to be monumentally more fun than you had imagined. You’d worn the complete wrong type of shoe — a pair of stiletto boots — and on your way back down the side of the hill to the ferry boat you had stumbled and Liam caught you. His arms were solid and strong and to your shock he crouched down. 

“Get on.”

You had hopped onto his back, and he carried you down the side of the hill, all the way onto the boat. He set you down gently, hands caressing your thighs carefully. You could still feel the mark of his fingertips on your skin when he was inside getting drinks. 

“Well?” Liam asked, taking a sip of his margarita. “You up for one last adventure?” 

You smiled. “Another surprise?” 

“One more,” he promised. “Or if you’re desperate to get off this boat with me I can call you an Uber the second we get to the Ferry Building.” 

“Not at all.” 

“Good.” This time, he flashed his pearly white teeth. “Do you eat meat?” 

Twenty minutes later, you and Liam were squished in a small booth in a restaurant in Chinatown with a vast spread of food on the rickety table in front of you: pork dumplings, half of a roasted duck, fluffy buns filled with red bean paste, shrimp shumai. 

You stabbed a dumpling with your chopsticks, plopping it into your mouth. 

“That’s so good.” 

Liam’s knee knocked against yours as you reached for another bun. “Have you been to China?” 

“Never. But it’s on my list.” 

“I spent two years there teaching English,” he said, taking a sip of beer in-between words. “Unreal experience.” 

“I’m jealous,” you said. “I’ve only ever lived here and LA, where I grew up.” 

“What made you leave LA?” 

“My best friend,” you replied, lifting the neck of the beer bottle to your lips. “He got a job out here after graduation and said it was the best place ever. We both kind of needed a change of place, to get away from where we were from.”

“San Francisco is the greatest escape,” Liam said, “and it’s a vacuum, sucking you in, all at once.” Even though it was dark, you understood what he meant. There was something about the city that called to you. When it was night and the streets were practically empty. Something overwhelming when the fog finally broke and you could see for miles across the abundant hills. San Francisco was more of a home to you than LA ever would be. It was your escape, but it was also your Hotel California. You could show up anytime, but you would never leave. 

“What do you do?” you asked, leaning forward, one ankle brushing over his calf. Liam’s hand dangled off the back of the red booth, fingertips dancing lightly on your shoulder. 

“I’m a publisher.” 

“Books?” 

He nodded. “I’m here for six months. A kind of sabbatical.” 

You frowned. “Six months? Then where are you going?” “Back to New York.” You sucked in a breath. “I live in the East Village, off Eleventh Street.” 

“New York,” you breathed. “I’ve never been.” 

“It’s different than here,” Liam replied. “This has the better Chinatown.” 

You smiled. “What do you like better?” 

“Neither one is better,” Liam said, his voice graveley and deep. You felt his fingers brush gently over your shoulder, and you unconsciously nudged closer. “Coffee in New York. Mexican food here. People in New York are ruder, but genuine. People here are California kind — pleasant, but hollow. I like being close to the water. But New York has bagels and there’s so much more life at three in the morning.” He paused. “Besides, you’re here. So that’s an automatic win for San Francisco.” 

Under the flickering fluorescent light of the Chinese restaurant, you looked up at Liam. For the first time in a long time, you felt it. That spark. That small piece of chemistry every romcom, every romance book, every person who had been in a committed relationship said was the start. The one little ember that would ignite and start a whole forest fire. And despite all of the noise, the shouting and the clamoring and the sound of dishes smacking against linoleum tables and chairs screeching as they got pulled back on the sticky tile floor, for a moment in time it was just you and Liam sitting next to each other in silence, your smile reflected on his face, his fingertips warm against your shoulder. 

Outside, the air was chilly. You winced as the two of you stepped into the street, your feet aching in the heeled boots. “Wait here,” Liam said, ducking into the store next to the restaurant the two of you had emerged from. He returned a few minutes later, holding out a pair of red silky slippers and you laughed as he bent down, unzipping your boots carefully, sliding the slippers on. You sighed in relief, heels hitting the ground for the first time all night. 

“I can hold those,” you said, reaching out for the boots. 

He straightened up, towering over you, and shook his head. “I’ll carry them for you.” 

Liam’s hand found yours as the two of you walked down Grant Street. There was something calm about him. Sturdy. As you rounded the corner onto Market Street, your gaze flickered up at him. 

“When can I see you again?” he asked, voice melting into the wind that whipped down the street, blanketing the two of you in a chill. 

“I’m free on Friday.” 

He grinned. “Friday then.” Liam pulled out his phone as a black sedan pulled up next to the curb. “I ordered you an Uber Black to take you home.” Liam stepped forward, opening the door. You lingered for a moment, your right hip brushing against his. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered. For once, you wanted him to kiss you. It wasn’t a reluctant end of the night forced event. It wasn’t out of pity or to cut the date short. It wasn’t because you felt like you owed him for a drink, a dinner, a ride. You wanted him to kiss you. 

So when he leaned down, one hand cupping your cheek, you sucked in a breath, his lips landing on yours, soft and pillowy, the pine scent of his musk overwhelming your senses as he pressed closer, his thumb sinking gently into the soft skin behind your ear as you opened your lips, letting him in. And when he pulled away, you were breathless. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Liam murmured, taking your hand, helping you down into the leather backseat of the car, placing your discarded boots down at your side. 

You watched him fade into the dark as the car pulled away, headed west, your lips still bruised with the thought of him. 

You were so caught up that you didn’t feel your phone buzz in your purse, Jake’s text sitting unread. 

How was the date? I have tequila. 

*** 

You and Jake had agreed early on that you’d keep your relationship, or whatever you could call it, a secret from the group. Not only would Coyote flip, but it would create another layer that would inevitably create fissures if and when things went to shit with the two of you. Which, taking into account both of your dating histories, was practically inevitable. 

Only once had you come close to exposing yourselves. 

It was Bob’s birthday party, which had started at a restaurant in the Mission and ended at a rooftop in Cow Hollow. Jake had struck out early in the night with two different blondes, first at the restaurant and then at the second bar. You had early success chatting with a guy from the first bar, but by the time you got to the rooftop he confessed he lived with his mother and sometimes slept in her bed. 

“Ew,” you shuddered, taking a shot, physically shaking away the ick that had crawled under your skin the moment he said that. 

“What happened Stink? Strike out?” 

You glared at Jake. “Fuck off.” 

He tipped one of the small shot glasses down his throat and winced. “So did I.” Jake leaned in closer, his hand brushing against your low back. You felt a tickle of excitement creep up your thighs. “Want to get out of here?” 

“We can’t, it’s Bob’s birthday. Someone will see.” 

“You leave first, I’ll wait five minutes and follow. Your apartment is just ten minutes away.” 

You looked up at Jake. He had stepped closer, his thumb hooked against the waistband of your shorts, the edges of his hair stuck to his golden skin from the sweat. It was hot, July, and the evening breeze that usually chilled San Francisco was nowhere to be found. And yet, somehow all you wanted was to be rolling around with Jake in a mess of sweaty limbs. “You’re desperate for me, huh?” you whispered. 

Jake rolled his eyes and you smirked. Just as you were about to pull away, head for the door, you straightened your glance. Phoenix had her eyes trained on you across the room. Quickly, you sidestepped away from Jake, his fingertips falling from your waist. “What?” he asked, loudly. Too loudly. 

“Shh,” you hissed under your breath, taking another definitive step away from Jake and jutting your chin out toward Phoenix. Jake looked up, catching Natasha’s eyes, and then grunted. 

“Fuck.” 

“You’re an idiot,” you said, pushing him out of the way, trying to cut across the room toward Phoenix to explain. 

“Wait, Y/N.” Jake grabbed your wrist. 

You turned back, thrashing out of his grip. “Jake. Let go of me.” Your eyes burned into his and he opened his fingers, letting your wrist slide away, out of his grasp. “You better hope she doesn’t suspect anything.” 

By the time you made your way across the rooftop to Phoenix she was pounding another drink, the memory of you and Jake cozy near the railing a distant memory. But that didn’t stop the tiny little voice in the back of your head that said you two were ticking time bomb. That sooner or later, one of you would make a mistake. And it wouldn’t just be your pseudo-relationship on the line. It would be all of your friendships, too. 

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[luveline]

zombie au with Steve where he trains reader in a little hand to hand after she was nearly attacked because the thought of losing her makes him physically ill? I've been thinking about them a lot recently and I miss them

hell yeah kisses u. thanks so much for your request! ily ♥︎

When Steve wakes you up, he's neither kind nor cruel. He shakes your shoulder insistently, and you blink against the starched fabric of his jeans.

"Up," he says.

You blink some more. You've learned to accept Steve for how he is, which is, under the circumstances, sort of strict. You owe him a lot — he's kept you alive this long. You can't find it in yourself to be annoyed at him, even as he slides your face off of his leg and you get a mouthful of leaves.

"I thought we got to lie in today?" you ask drowsily. You're camping a couple of miles from the state line, waiting for signs of life.

"I know I said that, but I've been thinking, and I have some stuff I want to go over with you."

You sit up and stretch until your back clicks. Steve's already standing, folding your tarps and blankets up to stuff back in your backpacks.

"What kind of stuff?" you ask.

You like Steve more than he knows. As in, you harbour an ill-timed affection, and so getting to sleep in his lap has made you stupid. You're feeling better than you have in weeks, about as good as you'd felt when he hugged you after the hot pretzel incident. He bends at the waist and you look over his face fondly, the soft slope of his cheeks, his lashes skimming the delicate skin under his eyes.

"Self defense."

You try not to dawdle, re-lacing your shoes in a hurry and standing up to help him kick out the smouldering remains of your campfire.

"You know self-defense?"

Steve looks at you, and you get all excited because he doesn't look mad. "Not really. I'm hoping we'll learn as we go." He strokes his overgrown hair out of his eyes. "I don't want you to get cornered again."

You wince. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, don't be."

You still feel awkward. It had been a point of contempt between you both for a few tense, quiet days. You'd been cornered by a girl, a real, living girl, and she'd hit you hard and stolen your pack. Your lucky she hadn't killed you, double lucky that all she managed to steal was pudding and stale twinkies.

Steve had been so mad.

Or so you'd thought.

You'd apologised to him, unable to stand the distance between you both, and you'd cried buckets from the guilt of it all. I'm sorry, Steve. I'm stupid. I'm an idiot. I let her get the better of me.

And he'd broke, said, "That's not what's bothering me. You could have been killed."

Steve Harrington cares about you undeniably. It's maddening, and it's fuel for your misbegotten cursh.

Steve gets you across from him in a clearer part of the forest. "You gotta concentrate, okay? We need to make sure there's nothing come at us while we do this."

"I know, Steve," you say softly.

His eyes narrow at you. There's nothing mean in it. "Alright. I'm thinking we'll start with just plain old punches."

"You want me to hit you."

"Yeah. I want you to hit me well."

Everything you both know about fighting comes from Rocky II. You tuck your thumbs, try to brace your wrists as he'd done. Neither of you know the exact specifics, and you're unsure.

"Just hit me," Steve says.

"I don't want to hit you."

"I know that's not true," he jokes mildly. "Hit me. I can take it. Hit me in the chest."

You hit him. It's a love tap, really, your knuckles barely pressed to his front. He pushes your hand away. You hit him again. The force this time is enough to make him smile.

"Alright. Now hit me in the face."

You gawp at him. "Steve, I'm not gonna do that."

"It's my face or my crotch." There's a lightness behind his eyes you haven't seen for a long time. "Come on, hit me."

You genuinely can't hit him. You swing your hand toward his face and hesitate every time you close the gap.

He takes a step toward you and grabs your hand, lifting it toward his face. He presses it to his cheek. "You gotta try. I promise I can take it," he says lowly. His head tilts ever so slightly to one side. "I need to know you can hold your own."

He lets your hand go, and seems pleased when you pull it back toward your chest, gearing up. You put as much effort as your body will allow into punching him, and though you feint at the last moment, your fist connects with his cheek.

He doesn't flinch, to his credit. "Good, good job." His smile fills you from head to toe with pleasure. "Again."

You hit him again, fist slapping against his cheek with an unfortunate slap. He laughs at your shocked expression, the sound unfamiliar and sure to play on your mind for days to come.

You gear up for another punch, and this time he catches your fist in his hand and twists your arm around.

"Steve!" you yelp.

He lets you go quickly. "Did I hurt you?"

Your arm had twinged, but no. He hadn't hurt you. You square your expression and get back into position. "No. C'mon, let's go again."

You spend an hour or more like that, throwing punches, and then you swap. Steve tries to hit you, instead, and you deflect, you dodge, you redirect his hand. And despite how he'd made you really hit him, he refuses to hit you in the face, his hand stopping shy of your skin every time.

It's an admirable effort, though you don't know how effective it'll be.

He grabs a stick from the forest floor and wields it at you threateningly. "She'd cornered you because she had a knife. I know it sounds impossible, but you need to be able to knock it out of her hand. Out of anyone's hand. Don't let it touch you, okay?"

He goes for fleshy places. Your chest, your neck, your stomach. He aims for your face and you grab it on instinct, which prompts more of his impossible laughter.

"You can't do that," he denies through chuckles.

"Why?" You're sweating, hair damp and cooled with every passing breeze.

"You can't grab a knife."

"Maybe I could."

His smile fades. He holds your eyes. "Maybe you could, if you needed to. But please don't try."

You nod, breathless, and not from the exercise. "Yeah, okay."

"Are you hungry?" he asks, letting his arms fall to either side.

Steve's forehead shines in the sunlight. You resists the urge to wipe his sweat away with your sleeve. It would be so easy, to close the gap, to dote on him like you want to. But you're not sure that's what he would want, and so you don't.

"No," you say. You're always hungry these days. That question usually means, Are you starving?

"Do you want me to pin you?"

You choke on spit and breath. "What?"

He smiles and it's King Steve. "What are you thinking?" he asks, delighted. "Because we might be on different pages, lovergirl."

"Lovergirl," you repeat, dazed.

"Somebody's gonna get you up against a wall. You need to know where to aim."

Your heart pounds. You worry you've heard a footstep, turning to glance over your shoulder, but there's nobody. You and Steve alone, and he wants to pin you up against a wall and- what? Let you target practice on his crown jewels?

"Or you could pin me."

You glare at him forcefully. "You're making fun of me."

"I'm not," he says, and then, slower, "no, I'm not, I'm... Joking around."

It felt like he'd wanted to admit to something else. You're flustered and it's the apocalypse so all your senses are confused all of the time, but you think maybe, maybe, Steve might've been flirting with you.

"Okay." You throw out your arms. "Pin me."

He smirks at you. "You asked."

You let Steve pin you, and realise quickly that this isn't going to be what you'd hoped. He pushes you hard against a tree and taunts you when you can't escape, smiling and sweating. It's isn't a heated make out session or anything close, but his proud smile when you work your way out is nearly as good, and he's nice enough to help you unzip your coat when you complain of numb arms.

-

more steve zombie!au

I missed this au so much!!!!

[blenselche]

this is the only fic-relevant page, we're moving on to the Penelope stuff now

ending spoilers for people who don't wanna read KY for some context and the lines if you cant read em:

Finn: oh...

Fern: Kim Kil Wan said you never came back to the office, knew I'd find you here when I asked where the worksite is.

Finn: Just leaving some proof that we were here.

Fern: still using that excuse?

Finn: shut up, overgrown weed.

Fern: c'mon you sappy dipshit, let's go home.

Keep Yourself Redux CH 3 excerpt:

Finn blinks up at him. “You look like shit man—“

“My dude, I could cook with the oil in your hair, speaking of— ever heard of a haircut? Don’t start. I watched your butt mope for years, sorry I couldn’t stand to check in much anymore but it was depressing by proxy.”

“Yeah alright, fine. You know why I’m here then.”

Prismo doesn’t say anything and Finn rubs his face before he stands, reciting the speech he’d practiced in the shower for years as it rolls from his tongue easily.

“You’re gonna tell me I used my wish, but I didn’t— that wasn’t me. The other Finn did, Farm Finn used that wish, but I’m not him. He made a wish, and that wish made me. He still exists, so we cannot be the same person. Technically I’ve never used mine,” Finn argues with his whole being, hand on his chest and voice steady, stance defiant.

Prismo considers him. “My boss might get mad but your logic tracks, and I owe you.” He mutters “and they owe you,” under his breath.

Finn nods, instantly deflating. “Thank you,” he whispers, desperately relieved. “Thank you.”

He reaches into a compartment in his prosthetic and takes a slip of paper out. It’s obviously very old, stained in places by dribbles of alcohol, folded many times with corners rubbed away. Scratched out lines are visible through the back.

Prismo makes an observation, “you’ve thought this through.” Finn nods again, flattening it out on his knee and the shadow's eyelids lower. “Good.”

“Only took me like, ten years to figure out the right wording and muster up the balls to come here.” He clears his throat and calms his shaking, taking a deep breath. “… I wish for rebirth in a fresh, wholly identical timeline to my own.” His voice quivers. “When I close my eyes for the last time in this body I will wake up on the day I leave to meet my biological mother. I will not know myself as I exist now, but instead have a subconscious sense- a moral compass that draws off of the lived experiences of this life so my younger, new self may avoid subjective mistakes and pitfalls.” Finn raises his chin with a questioning, hesitant look.

Finn doesn't know better but 1 wish per soul, so Fern gets dragged into it. They're reset when GOLB reverts them. (so they re-carve the tree in this new world, hope that fills in ppl who r lost on this)

I saved you ~120k words of reading yw.

Finn works as a contractor for KKW.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty Nine + Epilogue.

The end is here, besties. A huge thank you as always for those who have stuck it out until the end and offered such kind words in the way of feedback. Huge love to you all. It was a challenge to write this as it’s very different from my usual offerings. I can only hope the bittersweet ending meets your expectations :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven  Twenty Eight

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,186 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

His hand kept reaching into the space beside him on the pull out, vast in its emptiness, no small body curling against his, no warmth from her skin. He would never awake to find her using him as a pillow again, just like she had on his first morning there all those months ago. No little sleep snuffles, no morning kisses. No more shared dreams.  

She really was gone.

His brain couldn’t quite absorb it, yet the shock kept on hitting him over and over, like the perpetual jab of a knife into his heart. It had all happened so fast. One minute she was there and the next... gone.  

How precious and fragile life truly was.  

Angel knew better than most that’s how death worked sometimes, too. There were no guarantees of notice given. Death did not call and tell you to mark a date in your calendar. It snatched people without warning.  

It had done this to him twice now. First his mom, and now his love.

His eyes stung from crying, his heart completely shattered. He couldn’t believe it was real. He still expected her to walk back in from the kitchen and tell him to scoot over, or ask if he’d farted, slapping him if he revealed he had.  

Why? Why her? She’d barely even begun to live her life before it had been snatched from her. Angel felt his throat tightening again as he thought of all the things she’d shared with him, everything she wanted to accomplish, all that he was looking forward to being proud of her for. What hit him the hardest, though, was that she’d died before he’d truly made it up to her, ironed out the crazy behaviour that had been driven by his insecurities.  

He still owed her, and he could never repay it now, never show her he was worthy of her love, never prove himself. Stretching his arms above his head, his chest quivered on a sob, sniffing hard as his tears began to fall again. God, the loneliness. She’d only been gone for ten hours and twenty-three minutes, and yet he felt like he was being buried alive in the grief of losing her, how vacant he felt without her there.

He knew then he should have appreciated her more while he could and not acted like such an overgrown child at her being away, because at least she’d still been alive then. He’d now suffered the ultimate abandonment, and it wasn’t her fault or his, but fuck, how he wished he could turn back time. Just a little more time with her, just a day, an hour, a moment to hold her again.  

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he whispered into the dark of the living room. “Dunno how the fuck I’m meant to carry on without you.” The pain crashed through him, hitting him over and over as it swallowed him whole, Keri was dead... Keri was dead. He’d managed to stop his tears by the time the bedroom door opened, Frankie exiting quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of the pullout.  

“Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” he confirmed.

She gestured to the space beside him. “Mind if I cuddle up? I get it, if you’d rather be alone.”

He snorted softly. “Course, I don’t. Get over here.” She climbed under the comforter, resting her head to his chest, his arm wrapping around her. He wasn’t the only one completely heartbroken. Hell, they’d had to sedate Meryl, she was so hysterical.  

“This feels weird,” she muttered, tapping his chest gently with her splayed hand. “No boobies.”

He smiled, laughing softly through his nose, Frankie continuing. “It doesn’t feel real. Like, you’re here, so my brain by default thinks that she should be, too. I keep thinking the door is gonna open and there she’ll be, my little beets.”

“Yeah, yeah you ain’t the only one,” he began, hand stroking her arm idly. “Just feels like she’s in the next room.”

“Oh, you know about the poem?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Yeah, the poem about death, about it being like they’re in the next room,” she explained, sitting up a little. He still looked confused. “Pass me your phone, I’ll find it.” He reached for it, unlocking the screen and handing it to her, Frankie searching for the piece she’d always found so comforting during times of loss.  

“Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, That, we still are. Call me by my old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect. Without the trace of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same that it ever was. There is absolute unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you. For an interval. Somewhere. Very near. Just around the corner. All is well.”

“All ain’t well,” Angel grumbled, sighing. “I get what the dude who wrote it meant, though. But like, I ain’t in that place yet. Hurts too much.”  

“Yeah,” Frankie sighed, closing the webpage and locking his phone, handing it back. “Yeah, it’s too raw right now, but the words are beautiful. I’ll come back to them again. Right now, I just want to go someplace quiet and scream about how fucking unfair it is, that I lost my bestest buddy in the entire world.  

“Isn’t just me, though. You lost your girlfriend, Meryl and David lost their daughter, and so many other friends, too. Rachel couldn’t breathe when I called her earlier. It isn’t fair, Angel. She should be here with us and she isn’t! She’s all alone in a fucking morgue!”  

He winced at those words, not wanting to imagine it. It had been painful enough when after the nurses had pulled all of her tubes out, he’d gone back into the room, kissing her head and stroking her hair as she’d lain there, statue still, her warmth beginning to fade. She’d looked like she was sleeping, like she was about to wake up and ask him why he was crying on her.  

Having to say goodbye to her like that had killed him. At least, though, he’d gotten to hold her once last time in their final shared dream. That provided a tiny slither of comfort blanketing the sharp edge of pain, if only for a short time. Tightening his arm around Frankie as she began to sob, he lay there in quiet contemplation about those dreams he’d shared with her, so much more about them now making complete sense to him, now the story that was him and her had sadly come to an end.  

“I saw her in a dream, just before she died.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I fell asleep for a few minutes, and we dreamed together. She told me she didn’t wanna go, but she had to. Knew it was her time and shit. I begged her not to, then I woke up and she was gone.”

A little exclamation fluttered over her lips, Frankie looking up, reaching to stroke his cheek. “Of course, she’d come and say goodbye to you. She loved you so much, you were so special to her.” She swallowed back the little stab of envy, that he’d gotten to say goodbye to her when she hadn’t, Frankie realising that it was probably hell for him, to realise he was going to lose her, for him to wake and find she’d died.

“Didn’t get to prove myself worthy of that love.”  

“Hey, none of that,” she began, pointing a soft finger at him, tapping his chest. “You were the love of her life, alright? Remember that. Don’t let regrets eat you up inside.”  

“Hmm.” She didn’t push him further on it, guessing he likely wouldn’t stop feeling guilty just because she’d told him not to. Humans were rarely so simple. “I dunno, like... fuck. I dunno.” They lay there in silence, eventually falling asleep, although it was fitful, waking up regularly, both deciding to get up and go for a cigarette on the firs escape, Frankie sitting between his legs, Angel resting her chin atop his head.  

“I hate that I won’t see you anymore, now that she’s gone,” she spoke, Angel making a noise in his throat.

“Don’t talk shit, Frances. If you want, I’ll still come see y’all when I can. You guys are my friends too now. I don’t forget shit like that.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, watching at the sun began to fill the sky. “She’d like it, too. If we kept in touch.”

“Yeah, she would,” she confirmed, smiling softly. “We’re the links to her, you know? What Keri left with each of us lives on within us all, so staying connected means we have little connections to her, too.”  

“That shit’s beautiful, bro.” He knew he wasn’t capable of articulating something like that, but it made sense to him all the same. He went for a shower soon after, getting dressed and heading over to Meryl and David’s place, the latter answering the door to him.  

“Hey man.” He pulled him into a hug, slapping his back softly. “How you doing?”

“Bad,” Angel confirmed, closing the front door behind him. “How about you guys?”

David waited until there were in the kitchen before replying, switching the coffee machine on and pulling two cups from the cupboard. “It still don’t feel real. Meryl is just... shit. Beyond devastated. She’s still in bed, but she didn’t sleep. Just crying endlessly.”  

“Yeah, I think I drifted off for like, a half hour. Frankie too. You’re right, it don’t feel real at all. Keep expecting her to just walk in like nothing is wrong.”  

David smiled, a soft laugh bursting from his nose. “And tell us about one of her calamities, spilling something or the like.”  

“Showing off on her snowboard and hurting herself,” Angel smiled, remembering carrying her after she’d done that very thing and sprained her ankle.  

David’s voice broke on a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I never had my own kids, and I didn’t feel like I needed to once I’d met Meryl. Here they were, this ready-made family. I always thought of her as mine. Ain’t fair at all. I can’t get my head around it. Feels like I’m in someone else’s nightmare.”

“Same,” Angel spoke, taking the coffee David handed to him with thanks. He turned back to the coffee machine, a sudden burst of sunlight from behind the clouds making something glint upon the windowsill. Picking it up, he held the thick, silver band Keri wore on her thumb, squeezing it in his palm before handing it over to Angel.

“Here.” He placed it into his hand, smiling with a nod. “I think she’d want you to have this.”  

Angel took it, pulling off the rings he wore on the fourth finger of his left hand, placing on the band and returning them atop it, his smile sad.  

“Fitting place,” David nodded, leaning back against the counter, watching him look down at his hand.

“I would have, you know. Would’ve asked her to marry me at some point.” Just then, David glanced with surprise over his shoulder, Angel feeling a soft hand upon his arm. Turning, he saw devastation personified.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes softening. “I’m so sorry, Meryl.”  

She let herself be pulled into a hug, wrapping her arms around him, steeling herself not to break down again and cry all over her daughter’s boyfriend. “Thank you. I am too, for you. I know how much you loved her.” Pausing, she leaned to kiss his cheek, straightening up, wiping her eyes with her thumb. “Thank you for making her last month's so happy.”  

“It was an honour, getting to love your daughter. She was everything to me.”

Meryl nodded, her lip quivering. “I know, love. I know.”

Angel didn’t stay for long, David vowing to keep in touch with him over the funeral arrangements before he left, booking himself a flight and heading directly to the airport. All around, there were memories of her, remembering walking through with her either on his arrival or departure, the Starbucks where he’d made her laugh so much about her frappuccino, the places they’d stood holding one another tight, the spot where they’d first met.  

It stung his heart so hard that it almost took his breath away. He felt like he was moving through clay as he checked in and then sat and waited, buying a coffee while he waited the near two hours before his flight would depart, scrolling through his phone at the hundreds of pictures of her, of them.  

“I dunno what I’m meant to do without you, tiny.”  

And the truth was, he really didn’t. It was a pain he knew he would never truly recover from.

Epilogue

The entire charter of the Santo Padre Mayans MC roaring into the cul-de-sac was quite a thing to behold, all dressed in black, parking up behind the black limousines that would usher the family over to the funeral home. One by one, each man greeted the assembled family, offering his condolences, the few who knew her a little better speaking of his fondness for Keri, Meryl and David so very touched by their words.  

The sun shone brightly on that October morning, a warmth still lingering through the crisp, fall air, Angel watching as golden leaves shook themselves from the trees, a perfect one landing right in front of him upon the handlebars of his bike.  

“Yeah, baby. I know that’s you.” Placing it carefully in his pocket, he took a deep breath, feeling a hand press to his shoulder.  

“The family is ready, mijo,” Bishop told him, placing his helmet on. “You lead, though. She was your girl. It’s only right.”  

Clasping him in a tight hug, he felt the love from his brother swell through the cold nothingness that had become of his broken heart, the sound of bike engines roaring back into life filling the air, the procession slowly moving forward behind him. It still hurt, the grief cutting at him like a razor, nine days passed since his beloved Keri had taken her last machine assisted breath, since the last time he’d felt the warmth of her skin next to his.  

He felt glacial without the sunshine of her love, a freeze that likely wouldn’t ever thaw.

He was glad Meryl had chosen a closed casket, because he couldn’t bear to see her shuttered in death again. Kissing her goodbye at the hospital had all but killed his heart, Angel instead wanting his last memory of her to be of when he’d held her in his arms at the airport, her face so bright and excited as they’d spoken of their vacation. What he would have given to be preparing for it, the trip he’d cancelled four days ago when he’d finally been able to actually get out of bed and do something other than lie there, weighted down by the lonely blanket of grief.  

Once at the funeral home, they were met by a couple more of Keri’s friends, Angel touched at the sight of Rachel rushing into Gilly’s open arms, Bishop wrapping Frankie into a huge hug, Jaime too, telling her he wished he was meeting the girl he’d heard so much about under happier circumstances. “You’re right, she does look like a mermaid.” he spoke softly, Angel smiling when he remembered the moment he’d heard Frankie liken her to one, on that first morning in Provo, meeting Keri in the flesh for the first time the night before.  

What he’d give to go back, be on that pull-out bed with her, enjoying their first kisses all over again. The pain of never having that again burned through him, as he knew it always would. There would be no cease to his sorrow at losing her, his one true love.

Turning to him, Frankie and Jaime held out their hands, both flanking him either side as they walked into the funeral home, ready to say their last goodbye to the girl who meant so very much to each of them. He still couldn’t believe she was gone. The appearance of the white casket sealed it, though, Angel swallowing the lump in his throat, letting go of Frankie’s hand and wrapping a strong arm around her when she couldn’t keep the sob in, holding her tightly.

“Good morning, friends. We gather today to remember fondly the life of our darling Keri Jane Watkins, taken much too soon from everyone she loved so very much on the second of October, twenty eighteen. As I look around at a room so full, I certainly see how her kindness, brilliant spirit, and unrelenting zest for life touched so many, from her mother Meryl and stepfather David, who we give all of our love and light to at this time, to her beloved boyfriend Angel, whom she adored beyond measure. Her Aunt Bee and Uncle Sunni, her precious cousins, and not least, her treasured friends, Frankie, Jaime, Rachel, Ash and Aaron, the core group of her heart.”

The words used by the minister were a lovingly touching tribute, yet Angel couldn’t have remembered any of them if you’d paid him all the money in the world as he sat there, replaying every memory he had of his darling over and over in his head, thinking how tiny her casket looked, for someone who was so full of energy and life. He still couldn’t quite reconcile that she was really lying in there.  

“She isn’t, man,” Aaron told him afterwards, Angel voicing that thought to him as they congregated outside. “That’s just her body. The Keri we know and love, she’s dancing around through the skies, seeing every last part of the world she said she was gonna see. She’s up in the stars, man, laughing, soaring. Free. Her body will join her when her ashes have been scattered, too.”

Meryl, David and Angel had all agreed that Keri would have hated to be put into the ground, all deciding to cremate her and scatter her ashes up in the mountains, so she would blow free into the wind, and travel wherever it took her.  

Angel smiled, giving him a big hug, thanking him for such words. “She loved the hell outta you, you know.”

“I know,” he croaked, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. “I was so damned lucky to call that little calamity my friend.”

Lucky. That’s exactly what Angel had been, he realised, moving away to stand by himself, lighting up a cigarette. He was still lost in the fog of grief, so painfully lonely, he barely slept at night without her there, but he knew in his heart that he’d been the luckiest to call her his for the too short a time he’d had her. If he could hold onto anything, it was that.  

In the months, and eventually years that followed, he was never quite the same, his loved ones all noted, those in Santo Padre and Utah, whom he had stayed in touch with. He’d welcomed other women into his life, but only at arm's length, never with any permanence, more a means to an end whenever his libido dictated to him that he should.  

It never felt the same, though, and with each one that passed through his life, it only made him long for the one he could never be with again all the more. In the end, there were no more women, not wanting for them. Not for anyone but her. He’d spray her perfume onto his pillow, try and fool himself that she hadn’t really gone, abandoned in waking and dreams by his soulmate, hoping that wherever her spirit soared, she was happier than him.

He was simply lost without her, stumbling through what he thought was a living hell. That was, until hell came calling for him, for all of them, from the brothers who grew tired of the Santo Padre charter, literally battering down their gates to wage war upon them. He and his brothers put up a valiant fight from the safety of the clubhouse, he and EZ manning guns at the windows, his brother yelling every so often for Sharise to take cover, who wanted so badly to try and assist.

She hid behind the end of the bar, watching her husband and Angel firing all they could, until their rounds of ammo ran out, the brother’s exchanging looks, both then ducking the hail of gunfire that hit the front of the clubhouse. Angel, however, didn’t get out of the way in time.

Sharise watched his body drop to the floor, screaming in horror as she crawled out from her hiding place, scrambling to reach him, her knees and hands scuffed upon the floorboards. None of that mattered as she removed her top, pressing it to the wound in his chest.  

“Angel, I got you. Stay with me,” she spoke, pressing down, turning to look at him with wide, urgent eyes. When she watched him cough out a mouthful of blood, just as EZ skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees at his side, she knew, looking down again to see a second hole, right above his heart. If it hadn’t been broken entirely two years before, the bullet that had entered his chest certainly finished the job off.  

“Angel, you’re gonna be fine,” EZ spoke, knowing he was saying the words so he’d believe them more than anything, his beloved elder brother lying there dying, spluttering again. More blood.  

“It’s... okay,” he croaked, a cold swirl chilling his bones, feeling it begin to pull at him. “Love you.” His eyes flitted to Sharise, the pain in his chest feeling like a weight of fire. “You too. Gonna go find...”

Sharise sobbed, nodding, grasping his hand as she bent to kiss his head, stroking his hair lovingly with her blood-soaked hand. “I love you, too. You go find her. It’s okay, you’ll be with her soon.” She looked over at EZ, sobbing chokingly as they both clung onto him, their tear-filled eyes the last things Angel saw before the pain burned to absolutely nothing, the vacuum of death yanking him away, the endless black void pulling him under, until there was nothing at all.

The nothingness swirled around him, Angel feeling as if he was falling, endless darkness swathing him, his consciousness muddled, messy, a sharp thought occurring to him; what if he didn’t deserve to follow where she had gone? His entire body suddenly jolted, a yank that took him downwards, descending, the nothing giving way suddenly.  

He could hear the ocean.

Opening his eyes, he squinted slightly, everything so bright. Brilliant white surrounded him, the smell of saltwater and fresh linen filling his nose.  

The white room. He’d made it.  

Turning onto his side, he reached beneath the covers, her warmth right there next to him, where he’d craved it to be in the two long, lonely years without her. He pulled at the comforter, his heart mending itself in an instant to see those pretty hazel eyes looking back at him, her beautiful smile making her entire face glow.  

She looked exactly as she had the first time he’d ever seen her.  

Finally, he’d found her again.

Reaching for his face, Keri moved into the warmth of his arms, kissing him softly. “What was the last thing I told you?”  

He beamed at her, the love he felt no longer a painful echo of loss. “That you loved me,” he stated, fingers entwining in her hair.

“And to look after yourself, and what do you go and do? Get shot and join me a mere two years later.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”  

He laughed softly through his nose, kissing her again. “I wasn’t alive in those two years, mi amor. Only existing without you.”  

She stroked his face, nuzzling him. “So, you missed me then?”

He held up a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger, her laugh sparkling in his ears. “Just this much.”  

Replicating, she mouthed the words back to him before he pulled her against him, turning onto his back, holding her tightly as they kissed. Death no longer mattered, and neither did leaving everything else behind. They’d found one another again, as they were always destined to. Their souls could rest now, there in the white room.

Forever.  

The End.

[ladyarjuna]

"I mean, don't let me interrupt. I'm pretty much just a tourist, yeah?"

It's not far from here, in any case.

["it" turns out to be a large crater, about a hundred meters wide. pieces of red, black, green, and white armor still glimmer in the field. A blue-white tinge suffuses everything.]

[Kisaragi skids down the path. The sword vanishes in that same blue-white light, and from the steel and pieces around it...]

[A small bouquet of flowers, laid at an empty hollow, long since overgrown with natural life.]

... Hey, big sis. Figured you could use the company. Both of you.

[She sits in the ruins of the cockpit. Metal and shattered bone chips are the only markers of the final resting place of the Mercury-2 and its pilot.]

I wonder if you realize just how much you meant to everyone in the country? Everyone in the world? Or were you like Kanabou?

... I wish I could have seen you. Seen you both. Known you both. But we all know why that's impossible.

... I don't get to say this enough, but... Thank you. I owe you my life.

[risingmoon24]

💙Blue Dawn❤️

A Hilda Berg and Goopy Le Grande Fanfiction.

PART 1🌙

Note: I am not a writer, but this is a passion project I’ve put on hold for a while.

Once, it was a beautiful day in Inkwell Isles. All was well until there was an explosion in the sky!

Cuphead and Mugman had just defeated Hilda Berg, flying past her and snatching her soul contract. This all happened before Hilda exploded out of her moon form. Hilda found herself plummeting towards the ground. The cups were long gone to help her.

Hilda wondered if she was going to die. She didn’t want to die. Nonetheless she screamed for help.

Down below in the forest, Goopy Le Grande, the most fiercest and handsome boxer in inkwells, was not looking so fierce and handsome at the moment as he too had taken a toll on being beaten by the cups. Goopy was almost finished wrapping up his other arm in bandages when he heard faint screams from above. There she was. Hilda Berg. Goopy hadn’t known Hilda that well as she preferred to keep to herself in the sky. He had many times tried to talk to her but she was either asleep or ignored him. But now she needed him most. Goopy without thinking, sprung into action. Using whatever energy he had left, he jumped higher than he’s ever jumped into the sky. Midair, he caught the zeppelin. Hilda was surprised, but didn’t think much of it. She grabbed on to the slime for dear life and Goopy held on to her tightly.

“It’s okay… you’re safe now!” Goopy spoke with a reassuring voice. Hilda smiled and cried.

“That’s nice and all” she said, but then she looked down, “But we’re still falling!!”

Goopy also looked down. They were pretty high up and falling back down. Goopy quickly held onto Hilda in an embrace and faced up so that his back would hit the ground and Hilda would safely be on top. As soon as they hit the ground, Goopy, being made out of bouncy slime, sprang up once more before coming to a stop. Hilda hopped off.

“Thank you so much, blue friend. I owe you my life!” Hilda smiled but then became worried when Goopy didn’t respond.

“BLUE!” She screamed. “WAKE UP!! PLEASE!”

Hilda began to freak out. Goopy laid there more injured from the impact. He was luckily still breathing. Hilda knew what she had to do. She was going to bring him back to her observatory to treat him. After all he did risk his life to save hers, and he barely even knows her.

Hilda and Goopy were in the woods and Hilda needed help. Thank goodness she knew someone in the forest that could help. But would they help?

Cagney Carnation was still recovering from the cups as well as most of the other residents. Him and his daisies really took some damage. That’s when he heard Hilda running towards him. Hilda and Cagney know each other, but they aren’t exactly fond of each other. Cagney for fun likes to shoot seeds at her clouds that she’ll be laying on and try to shoot her out of the sky and Hilda uses her weather powers to burn down his garden. But now they needed to settle their differences.

“Overgrown weed” Hilda grunted.

“Oversized balloon” Cagney Snarled.

Hilda took a deep breath. She didn’t have time for this.

“I need your help, Carnation” she muttered.

Cagney looked confused. “You want MY help. Why? Why do you want my help and what makes you think I’d help you?”

Hilda took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.

“It’s the little Blue blob. You know the one that’s always bouncing around?”

Cagney looked at her in disbelief. “You mean, Goopy? Goopy Le Grande? What about him?”

Hilda was relieved to know his name. “Yes Goopy! He’s in real danger! He’s really hurt” Hilda got all teary eyed, “And it might be my fault! He tried to save me!”

Cagney stopped looking angry but looked somewhat annoyed. “You can stop with the tears. You should know by now that I won’t help simply from the kindness of my heart. I have daisies to feed, it’s gonna cost you.”

Hilda wiped her tears and spoke sternly. “Help me bring Goopy to my observatory and I’ll give you what you want. Name your price, Carnation!”

Cagney sighed. “I want you to make it rain. It’s been dry around here for a while. My crops aren’t getting any better in this heat. If you can use your powers to make it rain for me, then we’ll be even. Deal?”

Hilda nodded. “Deal.”

So Cagney and his daisies got together with Hilda and they carried Goopy to Hilda’s observatory, Goopy had been passed out in his large boxing form which was pretty heavy but they were able to do it..

Hilda nodded to Cagney.

“Thank you Cagney. Now I can properly treat him.”

Cagney nodded back. “Just make sure I see rain soon.”

Soon Cagney and his daisies were off.

Goopy laid on Hilda’s couch and she began to treat his injuries. Hilda bandaged him all up and let him rest. She decided to make some food so that when he woke up, they can share a meal and she can thank him.

Hilda couldn’t help but stare at Goopy while he slept. He was sort of handsome, she thought. Hilda tried to snap out of it.

After a while of sleeping, Goopy finally woke up.

“H-Hello?” He was confused to be in an unfamiliar place.

“GOOPY!” Hilda immediately ran to his side. “YOU’RE OKAY! THANK THE STARS!”

Goopy looked at her and smiled. He began to shrink down to his normal size. A size in which Hilda could hold him. Hilda blushed. He was just too cute.

“Thank you Hilda. I’m so happy you’re okay.” Goopy spoke. “Did you bandage me up?”

Hilda nodded. “Yes! You were hurt and—“

Goopy sprung up and gave her a hug.

Hilda was surprised but hugged back. She’s not a hug type of person, but she let it slide this time.

To Be Continued…

(Should I write more?)

[alias-sam]

Pierced by a Golden Soul

Chapter 9. Punching Can't Solve Every Problem

Platonic Jojo's x Reader

Summary: Fate is a bizarre concept with countless more bizarre implications. In life sometimes such extraordinary events happen that the only reasoning left must be fate. The tragedies that constantly befall the Joestar bloodline for example may be the unluckiest series of cards drawn in human history, or perhaps the work of a greater power. There is no way to tell for sure. Had Dio Brando or Jonathan Joestar moved slightly on a divergent path the world itself would be left very different. The fate or luck of the noble Joestar bloodline has led to destruction of evil likes of the Pillar Men and DIO. This story is of a similar caliber to that of the other Joestars (as I am sure you are familiar with them). This is a story of lost souls, compassion, hope, and above all fate.

Word Count: 1,610

(Crosspost from Wattpad, full fic is already posted there.)

You shut your bedroom door before flopping onto your bed and burying your face in a pillow.

"Why do I keep doing this to myself?" You groaned. It was like you couldn't stop getting involved in things that were bound to be trouble. Learco couldn't hear what you said and stood aside as you had your mini mental breakdown.

"So...are you gunna keep moping? Or are you going to help me?"

You stayed in bed for another second before getting up.

"Yeah." You sighed. "I just didn't want to be using my stand out in the open." You said, summoning Golden Soul, reeling back, and having it punch him.

"Ow!" Learco yelled as he was sent flying backwards through a wall. Much to your dismay and disappointment he came floating back. If looks could kill, you'd be dead three times over. "What the hell was that for?!" You looked between Learco and your stand.

"I'm really sorry about that! In my defense: I really thought it would work."

"What?" Learco growled.

"I don't know! I thought since I punched you to activate the ability, I could punch you again to deactivate it or something!" Now that you were saying it aloud you realized the flaws in your logic.

"Do you understand how STUPID that is?!" Learco yelled, his right eye twitching wildly. In that moment you were glad to be the only one who could sense him.

"Shut up! I don't know about you, but my stand didn't come with an instruction manual! Besides, your stand is just a piece of overgrown farm equipment!"

"I-" Learco stared at you flabbergasted, but snapped back to the problem at hand. "You seriously thought punching me would solve the problem!?"

"You haven't given me many clues to work with! I can always just leave you like this if you want to keep complaining!" There was something about this guy that just ticked you off. You were pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

"You are insufferable."

"Right back at ya." You collapsed back into your bed as you tried to think of something else. Learco looked no worse for wear for a guy who just got decked. "Did that even hurt?"

"A little bit. I'm mostly numb though." Learco was examining your bookshelf and the other trinkets scattered around your room, pretty similar to the way Golden Soul liked to. He moved to pick up a book on your shelf but growled in irritation when his hand phased right through it. "Your stand is the only thing I've been able to feel since you did this to me."

"Now that I'm thinking about it..." You trailed off as you aimlessly looked up at the ceiling. "What happened to your body? I distinctly remember leaving you in the alley."

"Oh right. Thanks for that." Learco said sarcastically and glared in your direction. "I was taken to Saint Rosewater General Hospital. That's where I stayed before looking for you. The doctors think I'm in a coma or something."

"Interesting...I wonder if deactivating my ability would work if I was closer to your body?" While you sat in deep thought about your stand ability, Learco poked around your room some more.

"What the hell happened over here?" You sat up to see what he was talking about. Learco was floating above the pile of glass, he had come across your broken window.

"Some guy attacked me with his stand last night." You sighed, immediately falling back onto your bed.

"You don't seem all that shaken up by it." Learco observed your listless demeanor.

"Oh no." You closed your eyes even though you were desperately fighting off sleep. "I've been anxious about it all day, but if I focus on it for too long the existential dread will kick in." The bullet that was shot at you was mere inches from hitting your heart directly. The fact you had been so close to death had stricken you with a sense of impending terror. You felt eyes on you all day, someone or something was keeping tabs on you, it was just a matter of time until you figured out who or what.

"What was the stand?"

"Some sort of toy-"

"Y/n?" Senora Jones knocked on your door and entered, despite your lack of consent. She looked around your room in confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

"Nobody!" You shot up from your bed. "I was talking to myself."

"If you say so.... I came to tell you dinner is ready sweety." Nervously, you glanced at Learco as your mother walked through him. She placed a hand on your forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes! I'm fine." You responded just a little too fast. Despite the fact your mother couldn't see Learco, it felt like being caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Senora Jones looked you over with concern and an air of skepticism. Learco floated over to you.

"I'll go for now." He whispered. "If I find out anything new, I'll come to you." He then floated through your wall and out of sight.

"Y/n? What in the world are you looking at?" Your mother waved a hand in front of your face.

"Noth-"

"Don't you dare say nothing. What has gotten into you recently? Is it drugs! Please don't tell me its drugs!" Your mother asked frantically, but you had a feeling she was joking.

"What? No!" If anything, you would've preferred the explanation be drugs. "I just thought I saw a...uh...bug." You lied.

"I guess that makes sense given your window is in smithereens." Senora Jones stared you down with the intensity that only a parent could. Your blood ran deathly cold.

"Y-you noticed?" You asked sheepishly.

"Y/n do I look like I'm blind?"

"No ma'm." You kept your eyes on the floor, shame evident on your face.

"I'm not mad." Your mother's stony expression quickly softened. She could never be mad at you for long. That was the kind of guardian she was, firm when it was needed, but supportive and understanding no matter what.

"Just disappointed I didn't say anything?" You finished her thought with a nervous smile.

"Bingo." Your mother laughed, placing a hand on your head, lightly smoothing out your hair. "We'll get this fixed, but I'm making you work a few of my worker's shifts in order to pay for it." She looked at the mess on your floor. "Should I even ask what happened?"

"It was an accident. You know how clumsy I can be." You deflected, Senora Jones sighed and started leaving the room.

"I'll help you take care of the glass later. Get cleaned up. I made risotto al nero di sepia for dinner." You smiled to yourself as Senora Jones left the room. There was a lightness in your mood that hadn't been there in a while. Somehow amongst all the stress of what was going on your mother unintentionally found a way to lessen the twisting sensation in your chest.

"Thanks mom."

..........................................................................................

After finally making it to the kitchen Senora Jones handed you a plate.

"So, how has school been?"

"I-interesting..." You stuttered, busying yourself with plating your half of the meal.

"I've noticed you walking with that girl from the other day." Your mother smiled. "What was her name again? Jaya, right? Are you two getting along?"

"I'd like to think so." You said, subconsciously running your fingers over where the bullet wound was before Jaya healed it. "She's nice." A ghost of a smile crossed your face.

"That's lovely." Senora Jones smiled, having noticed the small ways you'd changed your daily routine so you could meet with Jaya early in the morning.

The lights flickered once, you and your mother stopped where you were. Again, the lights flickered, but longer this time. Curious, you set aside your plate and approached a nearby window. Outside you could see other buildings were also going dark.

"What in the world is going on?" You muttered as you looked out on the town's lighting malfunction.

..............................................................................

Tim leaned against a light pole breathing heavily.

"W-what.... what is going on!" He placed a hand over where a gaping puncture wound once was. The pain was starting to slowly ebb away. The lamppost above him went out as a glitching aura surrounded him. "W-what the hell i-is happening to me!" He screamed, causing every streetlight in the surrounding area to flicker. Tim flinched when the glitching around him brightened. It all faded to reveal something had appeared in front of him.

It was a massive mess of colorful wires and cords, all tangled and spreading out along the sidewalk, slithering around wildly, struggling to support a large box television screen. The screen swiveled around in an unbalanced and clumsy fashion. Its wires extended as far as they could away from where they were connected to the base of the tv screen.

Tim backed away from the strange...thing? It moved like it was alive, but each part wiggled and zagged in its own direction. It didn't look like any kind of creature Tim had seen before. It looked almost like it was transparent at certain angles. Tim took another step back. This time the thing noticed. It quickly felt across the ground with its wires and cords, clumsily ambling to where Tim stood, wrapping itself tightly around his leg. In a panic, Tim wished the thing would disappear. Just as the though occurred to him, the thing was gone with a glitchy flash.

Tim looked around frantically for where it went. Intrigued, Tim willed the thing to come back. Much to his surprise, it did reappear. The thing started climbing the light pole, Tim watched as it reached the top it plugged its wires and cables into the light. In just a moment the lights around him started flickering again, but more erratically. Tim smiled up in wonder at the thing he was apparently controlling.

"I can work with this."

[gatheryourpearls]

I often think of Luna, and how often she must think of you.

I wonder if she misses you, and if you miss her too.

You were the yin to her yang, never one without the other…with the exception of before you two met.

Once you met, you were inseparable. It didn’t take long for you to see her as one of your own. If she barked, you followed. If she marched forward in defense, so did you. If she excitedly jumped at pawps or me, you did too, knowing there was good snacks to be had.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, this first holiday season without you is going to be so hard. It already is so unbearably difficult. Thankfully, I feel like I’ve cried all my tears out. Not much left. But the love I have for you and the amount of missing you that’s left to be expressed can’t be measured by the tears I have left.

We miss you, my Boo..our Boo. Your floppy little ears. Your wide eyes. Your calm demeanor. Your feisty self. We miss it all. Your uncle John paid you a compliment earlier tonight. We were talking about how Luna isn’t destructive when left alone and he said it’s because she learned it from you, on how to be a good dog…and I think he’s right. She learned a lot from you. As much as you took cue from her, she learned alot of her mannerisms from you. We have you to thank for that. We have had two great dogs. You turned many non-dog lovers into at least dog-likers. That’s a big feat. And I’m proud of you, always.

Today is your pawps birthday. We just finished singing happy birthday and he just blew the candle out. We all thought of you. This is his first birthday since maybe 14 (?) years old that you haven’t been there. He’s had you in his life longer than he has had without you. So, as you can imagine…he misses you deeply and longs for you always. Can you please watch over him? Make sure he’s ok? Let him know you’re not gone for good, just gone for now..that you’ve gone ahead to prepare an epic home and feast for him…we will likely celebrate many birthdays without you from here on out…and it’s going to be tough…but please know we won’t forget you…and know that if we could, we’d have you physically here with us. We love you so much, Boo. Thank you for being…just the BEST dog ever…the BEST MOST LOVING AND KIND friend anyone could ask for.

Soon, we will be packing up some of your things…clearing out the room where we spent your last moments with us…and it’s deeply painful. It feels like betrayal to lock away the things that are yours…as though we are discarding you…letting you go, for a second time…I’m sorry for that. The truth is, I don’t want to have to lose any of these precious Knick knacks…and instead of having your things strewn about, it just seems more respectful to you to have them neatly stored away…where they can be kept safely.

I told myself that I would make note of things that I want to remember about you…so since I’m already crying, here goes the start of that list:

1) your Doritos shaped ears and how when you laid on your back they’d flop open like the wings of an airplane preparing for ascent.

2) the fact that whenever I motioned a headscratch, you’d coming trotting. We should have known at that point that you were in fact an affectionate dog. I’m sorry it took us so long to realize that.

3) how your nose was patterned like a cracked desert plain.

4) how you were shorter than your sister but you had such “manly” paws as I’d often tell you LOL. You had hefty paws and I’ll always miss the soft patch of fur in the center of your paw

5) how when you’d play tug with your pawps and he would say “OW!” You would know to automatically let go. I never told you but I think that’s one of your coolest tricks ever.

6) how you were able to learn the trick Bang at the age of 15(?)

7) how you’d do zoomies from the room to your pawps’ apartment living room. Just back and forth, drifting with your overgrown nails. Lol. Sorry we didn’t take you to get groomed as often as we should have.

8) how you were so effective at sitting. You looked like a little standing log. Just the cutest

9) how you had exactly 1 hartz chew toy your whole life and you cherished it so much even when there was nothing but plastic left

10) the puperoni treats I got you that you loved (but let’s be honest, what treat DIDNT you love? Lolol). That was the first treat I had ever gotten you. I guess it was my peace treaty for taking away your pawps all those years ago. I’m sorry we didn’t make more time to spend with you. I hope you understood that we were young, dumb, and too in love to know any better.

11) how effective you are at swaddling yourself. You. Were. SO. Effective. Whenever I’d find you swaddled it looked like someone had done it for you. Our good boy.

12) how you slept and slept and slept. How you never judged me when my depression got too bad to actually get up and live. You just let me be and let me rest. Thank you for that and thank you for teaching your sister that. I appreciate you.

13) how chocolatey brown you were from 8-13 yrs old.

14) how when we’d get out of the shower, you would be first in line to lick the water off our legs. LOL it was so annoying but you had a fascination with licking.

15) how you would get episodes of fixation where you’d lick one specific spot of a bed or blanket until it was soaking wet. Again, gross but it was a very Boo thing to do.

16) your green striped bed that you loved SO much and that we were never able to replace. The reasons why you loved it? Well, let’s just say you played with it in the biblical sense as your pawps would say. LOL iykyk

17) how you’d curl up into a little toasty cinnamon roll

18) how you’d get cold so easily, just like me! So there was a tug o war between Luna and pawps versus you and me. We usually won. ;-)

19) how you somehow would coordinate GI issues with me. TMI, I know. But when we would go traveling, if I was backed up, so were you. Lol it was weird and comforting all at the same time.

20) how you’d done so well using the restroom in concrete jungles like Chicago and NY. Good job and thank you for being such a good boy.

21) how when we first took you to Ohio we made the rookie mistake of not bringing you any water or snacks aboard the flight. We resorted to feeding you a few pieces of chips. You didn’t seem to mind LOL.

22) how when you would see squirrels you’d charge so fast you’d end up choking yourself and coughing. Lol I’d tell you to knock it off but it never worked.

23) how you’d try chasing squirrels, we’d let the leash go for you to do so but you’d never catch up to them…and they’d climb up the tree already if you were remotely close. surprise surprise lolol.

24) how we had to teach you how to go up and down a flight of stairs because you were initially scared of them. It was adorable.

25) how when we traveled your face would squish up against the bag and make funny faces for you. Again, that was our fault for not getting you registered as an ESA. Even though we found the largest bag we could for you, you were a long dog and it didn’t seem long enough. I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable.

26) how when you play fight with your sister you would pretend to bite her by holding your open mouth near her..you would then turn this energy into a very enthusiastic yawn. It was always very cute to see.

27) seeing you and Luna share a bed. You would always sleep the opposite of your sister. If she was sleeping left to right, you were sleeping right to left. Truly a yin Yang situation.

28) the way you loved Luna and us. Just the sweetest. You defended your pawps honor against grandpa…just like Luna tried defending your honor at the very end…I hope you saw that and know how much she loved you…I know she misses you often…when we go into the room, she will still smell your things. I’ve had unkind thoughts come to mind about the grief we will experience all over again when we have to move out of this apartment and into a place of our own…the memories associated with that room..will remain…but I’ll take heart in knowing that you are in my heart, and that will be with me always.

29) how we would fill your ears with toilet paper to keep them dry when we bathed you and you hated it. LOL! you were very effective at shaking those pieces of toilet paper out.

30) when we took you to the beach in Canada and you had fun but were over it in .5 seconds LOL. Then pawps had to shower you with no soap because you had sand all over you. LOL fun times. Remember the little side bed I made for you out of that love seat? LOL

31) how after I had spent a month in Ohio with you, you proceeded to approach any dark haired female who looked remotely Asian. Lolol, I missed you then as well.

32) how all it took for you to eat was pawps pretend eating your food, smacking his lips, and you were convinced whatever he had was what you would have too. You were just the most convenient dog. Thank you for always putting us first.

33) how you know the word “tedur” for sleep.

34) how you used to wait for us to finish eating and then realize you wouldn’t get scraps…so you would give in and eat your kibble…but you’d get mouthfuls at a time and bring it to us then eat it. Cute boy.

35) how towards right before the end…perhaps the few months or half year before you left us, you were my work buddy…any time I got up to use the restroom or get water, you got up…as though you were protecting me…you just wanted to see where I was going and that I was okay. Once you determined I was safe, you’d go back to your bed and curl up, awaiting my return. My sweet boy, I miss you.

For now, good night or good day, Boo. I’ll miss you for always. I hope your having a great time in heaven and I hope the snack buffet is to be envied. I love you my sweet boy. You’re so kind. You’re so handsome. You’re so smart. I love you. Good night…I’ll see you, when I see you.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Soft Cries

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: Blood. Fighting. PTSD. Death. Crumbs of smut but nothing explicit I don't think? Author's Note: I've been sitting on this idea for a really long time. I hope I did it justice. I also think this is the longest one shot I've ever written. A huge thank you is in order to @lovebarefootblonde who has listened to me gripe about this all day and to everybody who has helped me build my Benny headcanons over the last week or so. Love you as ever.

MASTERLIST | Ao3 | Ko-Fi

Benny’s got a mean streak.

Nasty. Dirty. Always itching for a fight.

His face is a gradient of greens and yellows and purples; broken blood vessels scattered beneath his skin in an instant.

There’s something about the pain he likes. Something about the copper taste of blood filling his mouth and the ache in his ribs with every breath. He likes the sweat and stale stench of near death in enclosed spaces of hot air and broken hearts.

Anger evidenced in bruises to cover his vulnerability, he swings first and asks questions later; usually leaning against the sink while you tend to the broken skin but occasionally a hospital bed or a police station. He’ll tell you he’s never lost a fight but that’s a goddamn lie. That’s a lie with every ragged breath and gasp of pain as he fights for air through a tight chest. That’s a lie with every moment he spends hiding from the ghosts inside his own head.

“I fucking won that fight,” he'd spit, “I don’t see the problem.”

It never was one with you, in the confines of your home; the four walls of your bedroom; your bodies between the sheets. He melted beneath your touch as you patched him up and stroked his hair and told him you loved him despite the bloodstain on another brand new shirt.

You encouraged him not to go out, gentle suggestions of movie nights in and cuddles on the couch, but it wasn’t like the bar was the only place he broke. He doesn’t see the problem because it’s never really clear how it starts or where it comes from; the grocery store, the dog park, the drive thru line of the coffee shop you’re too embarrassed to ever go to again.

The problem this time was a fractured orbital bone—not his—and a fist full of broken knuckles that go untreated, yet again, as they shake in his lap in the police station.

“You're a fucking idiot, Benjamin Miller,” you shoot at him, “why do you do this to me? Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I've never hurt you.”

“Is it not hurting me?” You ask him, arms crossed and looking down into those bloodshot blues, “I can’t take you anywhere, my life shouldn’t become housebound because you can’t control yourself. And how long, if that’s what we do, does that last for me?”

“I'd never hurt you,” he says again, looking down to pick at the skin of his nails, “I never meant to hurt anybody.”

There’s an itch in your hand to reach out and card through the overgrown locks of wheat and barley blond but you suppress it. He feels it though, the way you want to touch him and the way you won’t let yourself; he feels the hurt and the worry you’re swallowing down and looks back up with a promise poised on his lips.

“Don't you dare tell me it won’t happen again, Benny,” you pull away when he reaches for you, “stop making promises you can’t keep and get some fucking help because I can’t be it anymore.”

Shaking, he follows you through the station in an almost well worn path. This is the third time you’ve posted bail in as many months and all you wanted was dinner and a movie.

“You owe me so much fucking money, Benny,” you snap at him as soon as you’re tucked away into the car, “a thousand each for the last two times and two thousand this time—and now you have a court date. I’m not bailing you out anymore, you can sleep here next time.”

A smile spreads across his face, a hint of arrogance in his lips as he licks out and smooths a hand down the rough scruff that covers his cheek.

“You said that last time.”

He thinks he’s so clever.

“Get out.”

His face falls.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you turn the ignition, “get the fuck out and call your brother. I can’t do this tonight.”

He thinks he’s so charming as he wraps his hand around yours as he says, “hey, baby,” in the softest voice, "I'm sorry, okay? I’m sorry, let’s just go home.”

He thinks he’s so endearing with those little mouth sounds of love that talk you down from that ledge and he’s right. You only wish he’d talk himself down too instead of letting you both get to this point.

“Come on, baby.” He pulls at the waistline of your pants, taking your attention away from pulling the day—the sweat, the frustration, the sadness—off of your body. “C’mere.” He whispers from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, pulling you between his legs and running his large hands up your back.

“I'm sorry.” He looks to your hands hanging limp at your side, the ones that are usually buried in his hair—especially on nights like this—to run along his scalp and disarm him.

“Baby, please,” he begs, laying his head into your soft, bare stomach; kissing the skin he finds there. “Baby, I’m sorry, it really won’t happen again. I promise.”

You break when he looks back up at you, wiping the tears from his eyes and framing his face with your soft touch, as that splash of angry red dots grows larger across his fair skin.

“I'll get help, okay?” He wraps his fingers around your wrist, turning his face into the skin of your arm to drag his lips along it, “I promise, I’ll be a better man for you. I’ll be a better man for myself.”

Kissing up your arm, he rests his hands back on your hips, sliding them up your sides as he presses his lips into your stomach again; into your waist and ribs as his fingers pluck at the clasp of your bra.

His mouth is insistent, hot and moist across your heated chest as he pulls the fabric away and lifts himself to you with his hand caging you tight to his body.

“Benny…”

“Baby,” he grabs hold at the base of your skull, the whiskers of overgrown facial hair tickling the sensitive skin of your lips as he whispers into you, “I promise.”

He kisses like a man possessed, crushing every whimper into his own mouth and it’s all so incredibly tender the way you trade gasps back and forth. Soft when when he’s gripping hard enough to leave bruises because this is what he does.

That unregulated anger that breaks everybody and himself slips away inside you—his body resetting, exhaling, finding peace in the curves and valleys of your skin. You let him take it, let him grab desperately with split and swollen hands; let him heal himself against your body if that’s what he needs.

He’s still there after he finishes, head laid gently against your chest as quiet tears slip down his nose and drop into the sheen of sweat that still clothes you.

“Benny…” Your hands are caught up in his hair again, that overgrown barley blond wrapping like silk around your fingers.

“Yeah, baby?”

“You mean it this time, right?”

He lifts his head, rough palm smoothing down the expanse of your bare body, “yeah,” he nods, “I mean it.”

“I mean it, Ben,” you cinch at the waist, propping yourself up on your elbow as his face falls, “you can’t keep burying your problems inside my pussy, it’s not good for either of us.”

“I don’t bury my pro—“

“You do.”

He glances down to where your bodies are still joined, inhaling sharply as he gently grabs the base of his cock and pulls away from you and exhales just as hard as he stands and turns away.

“Benny, baby…”

His head shakes as he retreats across the threshold to the bathroom, mumbling under his breath—likely just to himself—and you feel it deep down inside you; the kind of pain within him that only those closest can stroke.

The faucet turns in the dark beneath his touch and you watch as he shuffles through the little room attached out of habit. Two washcloths thrown into the basin to soak as he splashes the not-yet-warm water on his face. He wrings one between his fingers and runs it along himself, tossing it in the laundry pile and grabbing for the other. This one he holds in his hands, wrung out and ready as he turns the water off again and pads back towards you with that same wrecked expression.

“Baby, I’m sor—“

“No,” he cuts you off, “don't you dare.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle and he lifts your slightly, mattress dipping beneath his weight as he seats himself between them. There’s a deep midwest twang that comes out in moments of hurt and it’s thick on his voice now as he cleans himself from you.

“I didn’t realize you felt like I was using you,” he whispers, “I’m the one who should be fucking sorry, that’s not ever how I wanted you to feel.”

He tosses the towel back towards the bathroom and winces as the shot doesn’t quite land, “I’ll clean that up, don’t worry.”

“Baby,” you reach for him, “that's not what I’m worried about.”

He wipes across his cheeks again, thumbing the edge of his sniffling nose as his other hand falls beneath your breast; flattened against the rapid beating of your heart.

“I mean it this time.”

He didn’t touch you for a while after that night, when he’d broken down and taken your words to mean you felt he was using you. He kissed you, hugged you tightly, but he left the touching up to you with gentle encouragement; swallowing the soft cries you gave him beneath in the still quiet of your bedroom.

“That's my good girl,” he told you, lips ghosting across yours.

Everything became more intimate, more tender, in those few weeks with nothing but praises in your ear until one day he couldn’t take it anymore. He kissed you gently and asked permission, hands falling low on your hips.

“I won’t lie to you,” he told you, “I have had a shit day and maybe I do bury my problems in you but that’s not how I mean it.”

“I know, baby.”

“I'm not using you,” every part of him was so warm, “I never would I just—“

He stops and inhales a sharp breath, hands sliding up beneath your shirt, “sometimes I just need a little extra comfort, I never realized that was coinciding with my episodes.”

He barely left the apartment either, home to work to home again. He didn’t have a perfect record there either but they mainly let him work alone. Can’t have a problem with anybody if nobody’s there to have a problem with. He was on his best behavior, cold turkey from the outside world until he started with the therapist Will connected him to; somebody down at the VA licensed to help him work through the scrambled thoughts of his brain.

He looked more like the full picture of Benjamin Miller—the man you fell in love with—than the glimpses the mere glimpses you’d been given since he came home.

A few weeks after that, Benny got off lucky with a sympathetic judge who listened to the character witnesses vouching for the kind of man he truly is.

The other man dropped the charges.

Even with a half broken face, hearing the words veteran and PTSD and special ops go a long way. Especially when the well-respected and widely loved William Miller stands up to speak. Takes responsibility and apologizes for not working harder to keep his baby brother under control.

Nobody blamed him, nobody was mad. Benny had the combination of boyish features and tragic backstory that made you want to bend over backwards for him.

“Don't let me see your name cross my sight again, son,” the much older man in robes seated above them stared down at the end of it all, “your record will be cleared with the completion of anger management.”

Between that and therapy, he gained coping strategies and tips on calming down. Everybody emphasized to him the importance of attendance and a consistent routine, pointing out that losing his strict schedule with honorable discharge was what started this spiral to begin with.

Nothing changes overnight but part of you thinks he did, that soldier’s resolve and discipline coming back at the mere mention of routine and consequences. He was better, genuinely better and not just acting. When met with a stressful situation, he’d excuse himself out to the car or just to the bathroom. He looked for breathing room instead of others forcing him to find it.

“Dad used to say you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink,” he told you one night as he brushed his fingers across your forehead.

Your nose wrinkled as he trailed down to the tip of it.

“Actually, I think that saying pre-dates your daddy by a few centuries,” you’d told him, “gone through a few translations too most likely.”

His hand dropped to cradle your head, pulling you up slightly to press his lips to yours, “you sound like Fish.”

“Fish is a smart man,” you told him, “you should listen to him more.”

That’s when the fighting started; the real fighting, the legitimate fighting. Fish got him in the gym and then he got him against other men. Men who wanted to be hit and did so for money.

“I'll pay you back, baby,” he’d told you, showing up with flyer for a competitive match, “I’m fucking good, I’m gonna win that fight and make so much of this right again, baby.”

“I don’t know, Benny,” he had you pinned against the counter, confidence and excitement buzzing from him, “I was just mad at you when I said you owe me so much money, baby, you don’t have to do this to make good on that.”

“Then I’ll use the money to help us buy a house,” he said; that crooked, cocksure smile you haven’t seen since well before retirement spreading across his face.

“Ben…”

“Come on,” he insisted, “don’t tell me you don’t wanna get out of apartment life. Huh? Don’t you wanna have a big ass kitchen to make those cakes you like? And a room for all your books?”

He wasn’t giving up so you gave in.

You wrapped his knuckles before every fight; putting extra care into the hands you love that have already seen so much hurt. Kissed his palms and wrists and fingertips before helping him into his gloves.

He got shit at first, for having his girl in the locker room with him. They said there was no way he could fight like a man if he couldn’t even get ready like one.

He went unbeaten for eight straight match ups, always looking towards you at the end of a fight and making grabby hands as soon they dropped his arm. They couldn’t contain him, always having to let him through the door and back out into the crowd as soon as possible so he could get to you.

Nobody said shit to him then.

Then Santiago came home and, suddenly, he was undone again.

You stayed back the night of the ninth fight, insisting he’d be fine with Frankie wrapping him up. He begged you to come, said he couldn’t win without you there.

“I'm sure Frankie would be happy to give you kisses on your palms, baby.”

“Yeah,” he shot back, a grin overtaking him, “but he’s not as gentle as you.”

Taking his hands in yours, you kissed palms and then his wrists and then his finger tips before standing on your tiptoes to kiss his lips.

“There,” you told him, “tradition done, you’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t.

He lost the fight, walking in way later than his boy’s nights tend to run with Santiago supporting him around the waist. It was the crashing that woke you up as they both tried to kick their shoes off in the dark.

“What the fuck?”

You turn the light on and stand there, arms crossed over your chest, “I’ve been calling for a while.”

“Baby,” he looks up at you now, letting go of Santi and making his way to you, “baby, I lost.”

“I know, Frankie texted.”

“You weren’t there, that’s why,” he says, large hands framing your face, “promise me you’ll be at the next one, I can’t lose like that again.”

Leaning to the side, you look at Santiago, "how much did you give him to drink?”

“Not a lot but it was tequila,” he says, hands shoved into his pockets, “I think he has a slight concussion.”

“Baby,” Benny grabs your attention back, “I’m gonna go with Santiago to Colombia for the weekend.”

You look back at the dark haired man, “is that so?”

“Yeah,” Benny continues, “getting seventeen grand to help with a recon and then I’ll be home.”

He crushes you against him, bending slightly to lift with his knees as he pulls you off the ground; stumbling as your added weight throws off his balance. Your eyes stay on Santiago the entire time, sheepish and looking anywhere but at you.

“You better start looking for houses, baby,” he says excitedly, “that’s our down payment right there.”

He explained his thinking in detail, the logic behind his decision to follow Santiago’s dumb ass into what you assured him would be another mess.

"But have I died yet?” He asked you back, “I'm doing this for us, for our future.”

“No you’re not.”

Another conversation had in the dark of the bathroom as Santiago slept off the spins on the couch in just one room over, no way to really see him.

“I am,” he said, “I am and then I’m done, it’s just three days and then I’m home and we’ll buy a house, baby. We’ll start an actual life.”

“We have an actual life, Benjamin.”

Voicemail inboxes ran full on the third day after the third day.

You’d called them all when he hadn’t come back on the plane he promised he’d be on. When he didn’t show up at the airport, that’s when you’d called every goddamn burner phone number they’d given you.

You told him it wasn’t just recon and information gathering. You told him burner phones were fucking out of the ordinary. You told him he was making a mistake.

“You're not going for us, Ben,” you’d told him, “don’t sit here and say that to me, be honest. You’re going because Fish and Will are going and you feel some sort of need to keep up. Haven’t you ever thought about why they’re so protective over you?”

“Fuck off, they treat me like a kid.”

“They don’t want you to get hurt, Ben,” you said, “you’re trying so hard to keep up with them and get on their level and they are trying so hard to keep you from getting as fucked up as they are. Especially with your inability to compartmentalize.”

“You're saying a lot of really hurtful shit,” he pushed past you and back into the bedroom, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight, take the couch when Santiago’s not here tomorrow night.”

You followed him, pulling his arm back when he reached for his pillow and turning him towards you.

“No, you will not sleep on the floor or the couch, Ben,” you tell him, “I just want you to be honest with yourself if you won’t at least be honest with me.”

He kept up with the story that he was doing this for you, for the both of you. Pleaded with you to understand his thought process.

“It's just a couple of days,” he promised as you kissed him goodbye, “I'll be back before you know it.”

Three weeks passed as you called every number every day. Benny. Then Will. Then Frankie. Even Tom too. A steady rotation as you prayed that one of them would pick up and you would hear his voice on the other end or in the background.

Three weeks of watching videos just to hear his voice and lying to his mom about where he really was. Telling her you weren’t worried, that sometimes these little boy’s trips just last longer than they say they will.

Three weeks of hoping you weren’t rifling through the closet of a dead man; of hoping you weren’t sleeping in a corpse’s bed.

The very idea of Benny being nothing but a body broke you, bringing nothing but silent tears to the surface as you willed yourself to keep believing in the best. You hadn’t cried this whole time, you certainly weren’t going to mourn before a reason was given.

When he was in the service, he told you not to worry about him. He told you that not hearing from him for a while was normal and as long as you heard nothing from anybody else then that meant he was safe. But there wasn’t protocol for this sort of thing. No higher ups, no dog tags shoved in boots to be given back to you upon receipt of a coffin and a folded up flag.

Not hearing when he said you’d hear from him again was as good as a notice of death.

And not just him but Will and Frankie too.

You laid there then, listening to the automated voice tell you the mailbox was full yet again, and closed your eyes hoping sleep or your own death might find you to still the way you felt your entire life caving in.

Gentle lips find you in your dreams, the rough texture of facial hair tickling the sensitive skin of your cheek as he presses against your eyelid and down your face.

“Hey, baby,” gun calloused fingertips run down the length of your nose, “god, you’re pretty when you sleep.”

Every time you think of him, every imagination of his voice, it’s with that twang nestled comfortably in his mouth. It’s not sadness that brings it out of him, you learned a long time ago that it’s vulnerability. That’s why it’s almost exclusively reserved for you and this room.

“I know you can hear me,” he says, his timbre dropping low as he whispers into your ear, “trying really hard not to scare you here but,” he sucks in a breath, “judging by the way my shit’s all over the floor, I think I already have.”

He tickles that sensitive spot just beneath the hinge of your jaw, fingers sliding back until his hand cradles the base of your skull and he presses his mouth to yours.

Your eyes shoot open as your breathing stops, caught wholly off guard by both the dream Benny and the very real one that kneels beside your bed.

“Did I scare you?”

Your heartbeat rushes through your ears as you fight to push yourself up, his hands helping you along the way.

“I fucking scared you,” he stands before sitting beside you on the bed, “I’m sorry.”

His clothes are new; crisp jeans and an olive green jacket. His eyelashes are darker than you’ve ever seen, like tears have been on the little blond strands so long they’re now forever dark.

“You look like shit,” you say, “where the fuck have you been?”

He laughs, “there's my girl, I missed that smart ass mouth. You find us any houses?”

“I stopped looking two weeks ago, too afraid there wasn’t gonna be anybody to put in that house.”

“And here I was,” he shakes his head, “trying so hard to baby trap you, if I had my way we’d have eight to fill a house with by now.”

He leans back into you, propping himself on his elbow, “but I can’t even manage to pick up the phone and tell my girl where I am so it’s probably for the best I haven't even given you one,” his eyebrows raise, “not for lack of trying, mind you, I did say I’ve been trying to baby trap you.”

He smiles when you do, melting into you as you push him back into the mattress. His hands lay heavy on your hips, guiding your body onto his as you talk and breathe between frenzied kisses and feral touches.

“I was so worried about you—“

The sound of his jacket zipper being pushed down permeates the space.

“—I know, I was worried about you too.”

His fingers meet yours as you fumble with the clasp of his pants.

“I thought the worst, Benny.”

He lifts his hips and pushes the material down his legs, his half hard cock springing free.

“I know.”

He pushes your panties to the side, fingers pushing in slightly as a less than half assed attempt to get you ready.

“I tried not to for so long, but then you didn’—“

He cuts you off as he guides you down on top of him, mouth opening up against yours to swallow the half-pained moan you give him.

Seating you onto him fully, he pulls away to lay flat on his back, arms above his head as you both breathe through the sensitivity.

“You weren’t at the airport,” you tell him on the wave of a sob, “you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

You catch his tears as you lean forward to kiss him again, thumb rubbing across the swell of his rough and sunburnt cheek.

His chest heaves gently as he repeats himself again.

“I know,” he cries softly into your open mouth, “I’m sorry.”

[eepy-pleepy]

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

[ichorai]

pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

[dreaminginvelaris]

A Response to a Feyre Anti

I made a post recently explaining the dread of having to watch Feyre be abused by her sisters and father, in the Tv adaption. And a Feyre anti made a response, to something that should not be criticized at all considering what I said was just the truth? Feyre was abused. Not only that but they went on and completely twisted the narrative to fit their own ideas and in the process made Feyre out to be cruel and Nesta a saint. complete bull.

I will not be tagging the anti bc they have me blocked (shocker), but also I do not want anyone to go after them, if you come across the post, I don't want it to be through me. it's as much respect I can give to them.

I usually do not respond to those who have something to say with a post of mine or are blatantly talking about me on their blog, unless they're just spreading absolute lies about me or what i "said", it's usually a waste of time to do so. but this post attacked Feyre with outrageous lies and a complete backward interpretation of what actually happened in acotar, so as respectful as I can be, I will be analyzing the anti-response and what truly happened in acotar.

"the audience will only see two sisters fighting-not abuse" "it’s not Nesta you need to worry about. It’s audiences calling Feyre a big dumbass and a bitch" -from anti

if the audience has basic human compassion and empathy for humans IRL or fictional, they will see what's obvious from the start. Feyres abuse. how is it going to look, when they see Feyre walking through the woods, shaking from the cold, starving from hunger, and struggling to find food for her family? only to later see Nesta's treatment of Feyre?"

in the anti's post, they said Feyre was just as "heinous" to Nesta.

is Feyre the one calling Nesta a pig? a smelly pig? ordering her to take her clothes off?

no, it's not, it's dear Nesta. the text goes as "I took my time, swallowing the words I wanted to bark at her" oh yes... how cruel of Feyre. how heinous of Feyre to...stay quiet... at the verbal abuse.

in the same image we see Feyre ask Nesta to do something (kindly might I add) and then inquire why she didn't chop wood like she needs to.

what does Nesta do? acts like a brat and insults Feyre...once again.

considering I'm going off by the story and not the actual screenplay, and assuming they stay true to the story; will the audience not be disgusted by Nesta's behavior? I mean they just saw Feyre struggle to find food and they expect Feyre to go home to a family happy and appreciative of Feyre but instead, they get this familial abuse.

the anti said Feyre basically tells Nesta this:

"If you keep bitching at everyone like this no one will want to be around you or you can’t marry this guy because you’re a waste of space to me"

but what do we see?

"Believe me... the day you want to marry someone worthy, I'll march up to his house and hand you over. But you're not going to marry Tomas."

the word worthy, did that not catch your eye? Feyre said Nesta will have to marry someone worthy, someone, who will treat Nesta kindly and give her the life Feyre thinks her sisters deserve. bc Feyre does think that IDK why anti feyres think Feyre despised Nesta so much, Feyre loved her sisters.

what the anti fails to realize here is that Nesta marrying Tomas would have been actually pretty great for Feyre. in the sense that, Feyre would no longer carry the burden of her sister. Feyre would not have to worry about feeding one more mouth. or worrying about Nesta's constant stealing of Feyre's money. Feyre does not think Nesta is a "waste of space" to her, if she did, it would have been easy for Feyre to discard Nesta, and allow her to marry Tomas. the anti has that twisted.

but that is not even the worst part of the scene. did you see the shameless slut-shaming that came out of Nesta's mouth? how will the audience take to that? do you think most of the younger generation will take it lightly to see a sister slut-shame a sister? a woman putting down another woman? in this social climate? where the feminism movement is alive and flourishing. will they be okay with it? will they still blame Feyre and be mad at her the way the anti says they will be? I hope not otherwise I'm losing faith in humanity.

Lovely words Nesta spews at Feyre. I admit Feyre should have told her then and there that Tomas is abusive. but let's think: Feyre is 19 years old, the youngest, has never had any raising by a parental figure, has been neglected by her whole family, where would Feyre learn to calmly talk to an overgrown brat like Nesta? Feyre telling Nesta who Tomas truly is the duty of a parent, not a sister. I will not condemn Feyre for not knowing that was the perfect time to tell Nesta who Tomas is. especially when Feyre is being tormented and verbally/emotionally abused, its kinda hard to think about something else while you're being told all these horrible words. to us its easy to see where Feyre went wrong but unless you're in the exact position Feyre was in. no one has any room to talk. and even then, every person is different in situations like these.

this part was me analyzing the interactions between Feyre and Nesta since anti had reasons to believe Feyre was just as bad to Nesta and that the audience would see that and hate Feyre. I am now going to respond to the second part of the Feyre Anti's response.

"How will an audience of non-fans react to her not reaching out to her family to tell them she was okay after the reconciliation between her and Nesta? Or not inviting them to the wedding?"- from anti

moving onto acomaf now.

Idk maybe the audience will see Feyre, a depressed, lonely, individual in an abusive relationship while being manipulated by other individuals she called friends, and understand and empathize with her. all throughout the beginning and half of acomaf, Feyre is in critical depression. she wholeheartedly believes she should not be alive. that she is not worthy. she doesn't eat, all she does is sleep, self-care is not important to her or others so why would letting a family know she's okay, a family who BARELY ever cared about her, be a priority? it doesn't seem like Nesta or elain or her father was really fazed by Feyre's lack of communication. her father left on a trip, elain got engaged and Nesta, well we didn't see a tearful welcoming to Feyre on Nesta's part did we?

anti, where is the outcry of her "family" not even really caring if Feyre was safe or not, of what happened to her? it's not like they thought she had died, otherwise, where was the mourning or funeral? no, they just didn't care.

see this is where I know when anti is just full of bullshit. why, WHY, would Feyre invite her family to wedding full of fae? the creatures elain and Nesta fear and hate? for all the talk many anti's spew about Feyre being inconsiderate to Nesta, to her family, you would think Feyre maybe just knows a fae wedding would be the last thing they would want? even then, does Feyre owe them an invitation to her wedding? does she owe them an update on her life? nope. Feyre owed them nothing.

"How about her shit-talking Nesta to a bunch of strangers then having the audacity to ask her to get involved in a war. Oh! This is after she comes into her house and insults their hospitality." - from anti

I hardly think Feyre confiding in individuals who she learned to care about and laying out all the trauma Feyre endured with her family is "shit-talking" but for argument's sake, let's say it is. I still don't see what's wrong? after years of pent-up anger and hurt, would you not let go of everything you withheld inside and explain what was done to you? how you felt? Feyre telling the IC her life story, which contains Nesta's abuse and her family's neglect, was a form of therapy for Feyre. I never read a line where Feyre calls Nesta a "cold-hearted bitch" or called elain "a lazy ditz" she just said the truth. no added embellishments. Cassian was the one who shit-talked Nesta during the dinner scene, never Feyre.

I still don't understand why antis are so against Feyre asking her sisters for help? like the war didn't involve them? they're humans, and you know what the war was about? Hybern wanting to take control of the human lands like they once did and turn them into slaves. those humans included Nesta and elain.

"They could have left the continent" correct, except elain was engaged and refused to leave Grayson. which meant Nesta refused to leave elain. but even so, isn't it the duty of humans to band together and work to overthrow a race of people who want to torture and keep them as slaves? the queens certainly weren't doing their jobs. Feyre asked to use "their" house to meet the queens bc where else would they do it? the queens trust the fae less than Nesta or elain did. but even so, Feyre asking to use their house was a courtesy, that house is rightfully Feyre's. she is the one who sacrificed herself to leave with Tamlin. she did it bravely, courageously, and they got that house thanks to her. they owed Feyre everything. and the only one who acknowledged that was Elain.

that war involved elain and Nesta whether they or Feyre or the anti's liked it or not. not even considering that Nesta and elain are Feyre Archerons sisters, yeah, their family name alone puts a target on their back.

How did Feyre or the court insult Elain's and Nesta's hospitality? You mean when Feyre realized human food differed from fae food? something she did not know about bc she's barely been turned to fae and only had eaten fae dishes? Feyre's grimace towards the human food was an involuntary reaction to someone who is still learning their new body. or was it when Cassian called out Nesta for her cold treatment towards Feyre? if that's the case then fuck decency, I would call out a fake bitch in my presence from minute one. you cant call what Nesta did "hospitality" when all she did was insult Feyre when she didn't even care that Feyre had died, or lost her love bc of abuse, or that her body was changed against her will.

hospitality: the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.

did y'all read something different bc this for sure was nothing Nesta gave to her guests?

----

the rest of the anti post moves towards Rhysand and his actions UTM which I won't go into because I'm mainly just addressing the false interpretations this anti had to say about Feyre and her family.

I'm not sure how to sign off now lol, but I guess just that I hope this was enough to show how this anti's arguments were completely ludicrous and have absolutely no compassion for Feyre, and instead all the compassion for Feyre's abusers. This anti had a real spin on what the actual story was, and I hope the evidence I provided was enough to show that. Anyways yeah my brain is fried, and I'm done arguing with Feyre anti's for a while now, I need to go praise my queen Feyre so I can receive some semblance of peace.

anyways, stan Feyre for clear skin xx

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

On A Tropical Island

Jaune: Great. Just great. Now I’m lost and all my friends are missing too! I’m too angry to be depressed!

Neo: *Head pops out of the sand, spitting it everywhere*

Jaune: Oh, even better. Now I have company. This can’t possibly get any worse! *Ignores Neo glaring*

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

Jaune: Stop following me! You’re a bad girl!

Neo: *Cocks eyebrow*

Jaune: *Blushes* Not what I meant! I mean you’re evil! And all you’ve done to help so far is poke me with a stick! *Is poked with a stick* Dammit, stop that!

Neo: *Pokes him in the butt instead*

Jaune: OW! That’s not what I meant you menace!

Neo: *Preens at being called a menace*

Jaune: And stop trying to be cute, too!

----------------- 

Neo: *Tapping bare foot*

Jaune: Okay, so maybe my sense of direction isn’t the best. *gets The Look* Alright alright already, jeez. We’re back where we started, your shoes, your jacket and my armor are now forever lost to the wilds and it’s not my fault!

Neo: *Stares*

Jaune: *Shifts guiltily* Okay maybe it is, but if I had a map *Neo crosses her arms, reigniting The Look™ * we’d still probably be lost since the rest of team RNJR banned me from the map after reading it backwards and upside down.

Neo: *Nods firmly, taking the lead*

Jaune: For the fourth time.

Neo: *Turns, gapes in shock, shakes her head and grabs him by the hand*

Jaune: *Offended* Hey, I’m not a child! I won’t get lost!

Neo: *Looks at him through her eyelashes*

Jaune: *Sighs* Okay, fine. But only because getting lost in a weird jungle is way worse than getting lost in the grocery store at 14.

Neo: *Stops, removes belt, ties end around his wrist and grabs the other end*

Jaune: *Starts whining*

----------------- 

Jaune: Dear diary *ignores Neo’s pointing and silent laughter* today is day 17 on the worst island to ever exist. Butthole and I -- OW, SHIT-FUCK-SHIT! I really hate that you sharpened your stick into a spear! Fine, Neo and I finally have a a good system in place for food. We’ve got our firepit, Neo turned my armor we found into a pan, one pot and a skillet, my impeccable home economics have saved our asses and we’ve got a spit for roasting things over the fire!

Neo: *Munches happily on roast rabbit*

Jaune: It’s really working out! Neo’s great at the spotting and tracking, I get to use the spear to hunt and there’s plenty of these really stupid semi-intelligent rabbits that seem to have a language of their own that are really good when you cook ‘em just right. *Pauses* I think they might have stolen my shirt though, I haven’t seen that thing in like four days.

Neo: *Mentally reminds herself to burn the eye candy’s shirt before he finds it*

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

Day 28

Jaune: Ow, stop kicking me! I said I was sorry!

Neo: *Jumps on Jaune, bites his ear*

Jaune: AAAGGHH!!! Dammit Neo, how many times do I have to tell you not to bite me! It’s not my fault that seagull stole your hat! In case you hadn’t noticed, it stole Pyrrha’s sash too!

Neo: *Jumps off him, gestures emphatically*

Jaune: I know, you angry little troll! *Instead of attacking him again, Neo just stares at him sadly* I-I... *sighs* I know. I know. I really wanna kill that thing too. It’s...it’s all I had left of her too. All you had left of Torchwick. But we’re stuck here. We can’t find my friends and this island is huge.

Neo: *Nods unhappily*

Neo: *Jabs him with her stick spear*

Jaune: Yeah, we can kill any seagulls we see. *Neo blinks, considers trying to get her point across but nods*

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

Day 49

Jaune: How do you set everything on fire! I told you we needed just enough to warm ourselves!

Neo: *Lunges at Jaune, leaves fire to burn*

Jaune: *Is strangled*

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

Day 54

Neo: *Admires Jaune’s ass in jorts*

Jaune: I still don’t understand why you had to ruin my jeans. Tossing the boots into that bottomless pit, I get. My feet thank you. Uh, except when I keep stepping on sharp rocks and twigs. But really?

Neo: *Points at him, hand fans herself and panics, shaking her head rapidly*

Jaune: *Oblivious, insulted* Yeah, yeah, I’m sweaty! Fine, fuck having pant legs! I wanna get scratched and bitten by those weird little blue people again!

Neo: *Blinks, shakes her head in exasperation and relief*

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

Day 59

Jaune: I can’t believe you committed genocide because those blue people stole your top! Neo, they just wanted a tent!

Neo: *Glares murderously at Jaune, covering her frilly pink and white bra with her hand and arm*

Jaune: *Gulps* I-I-I-I know! It’s upsetting, but murder isn’t always the answer!

Neo: *Uses free hand and makes bunny ears*

Jaune: Hey, those rabbits might be really stupid but they’re super mean spirited! One tried to drop a rock on my head and don’t you dare say it’d be an improvement!

Neo: *Startled, laughs*

Jaune: *Sheepish, laughs too*

Neo: *Continues laughing, eventually noticing Jaune has stopped and is red in the face, wide eyed*

Neo: *Notices she moved her arm and Jaune is staring at her chest*

Jaune: *Notices Neo’s glare and red face* W-wait, hold on a minute now, I didn’t mean to--

Neo: *Glomps, bites his nipple*

Jaune: *Girlish screams that can be heard for miles*

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

Day 72

Jaune: No, put the berries down. You can’t just keep eating fruit all the time, you’re already very small and need to keep yourself healthy if you don’t wanna lie rotting as a corpse on this island forever.

Neo: *Grabs a huge handful of berries, shoves them in her mouth smugly*

Jaune: Dammit Neo, stop being so bratty! I’m only trying to help! *Grabs Rabbit jerky* Now do your body good, open your mouth and eat my meat!

Neo: *Gags, chokes, spits mushy berries out and kicks Jaune in the solar plexus for the phrasing*

Jaune: *Wheezing* I swear I didn’t mean to OH X-RAY AND VAV, SAVE ME!

Nearby Seagull: *Hearing the abyssal, shrieking screams of the Tall One, flies off in terror and decides to move the family nest*

Neo: *Biting, kicking, punching and pinching*

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

Day 88

Jaune: I can hardly shave Neo, if you don’t remember my sword’s a jagged piece of sharp metal these days!

Neo: *Shows off shaved armpits, shows off shaved legs having long since created shorts from her capris and shows him a wooden knife*

Jaune: I should be concerned that you’ve created another stabby, but somehow -- GASP! *Actually gasps, clutches his beard* No! You wouldn’t!

Neo: *Grins*

Jaune: Please don’t, beloved friend of mine.

Neo: *Touched*

Jaune: What? We are. I mean sure you bite and attack me way more than most normal people do but you did save me from that rabbit mercenary group that tried to use a swinging log to splatter my brains against a tree. You might’ve been a bad guy once, but it’s nearly been three months and you’ve more than proven yourself. And I can’t really not call you a friend when I feel guilty about how I treated you.

Neo: *Smiles, undoes her bra*

Jaune: Wait, WHAT!? *Neo jumps on him and smiling happily, gives his cheek a kiss and starts shaving* WAIT NEO NO, THAT’S NOT FAIR YOU CAN’T USE BOOBIES AS A WEAPON LIKE THA- *Neo shakes her body side to side* -GGRRRGGG! That is so cruel. You’re the worst friend ever. I’m glad you have to sit on my ribs and not my lap because that would be even worse.

Neo: *Continues shaving*

----------------- 

Day 146

Jaune: *Using his semblance* See, what’d I tell you? They get smarter! No way are those little demons gonna fall for the same trap twice.

Neo: *Lets Jaune heal the bloody bite marks from a rabbit, squirms*

Jaune: Stop it, you’re fine. *Kisses healed hand* Booboo be gone!

Neo: *Blushes brightly, stares wide eyed*

----------------- 

Day 179

Neo: *Spinkicks boulder about to crush Jaune*

Jaune: Thanks Neo! *To a small, derpy looking anthropomorphic rabbit* Your wretched plan is foiled you vile creature from the deepest pits of hell! Now do me a favor and get stabbed!

Neo: *Spins away, clutching her beating heart as the sound of a vicious goring occurs*

Jaune: Another day, another dead rabbit! Oh look, there’s more! *Offers the Spear of Ultimate Stick to Neo* You wanna eviscerate the next couple?

Neo: *Wonders what this feeling is*

----------------- 

Day 187

Jaune: *Gaping stupidly at Neo’s perfectly lit fire* W-wha? How!? Two months ago you lit my hair on fire *brushing hand through short, unstyled blondeness* but n-now...

Neo: *Smugly roasting bird meat*

Jaune: *Scoops Neo into a hug, spins the wide eyed mute* I understand how Dad felt when I finally learned to tie my shoes in the 6th grade now! I’m so proud, Neo! OW!

Neo: *Spits Jaune’s shoulder blood out, turns away blushing*

Jaune: Still proud. *Notices Neo blushing, deliberately not looking at him* Uh-oh. *Quietly, to himself* Oh no. I recognize this feeling. Ohhh shit. Okay, what the hell Jaune!? You see her boobs and you feel awkward about your boner for three days, but she looks all cute and embarrassed and that’s what does me in!? What kind of bullshit is this!?

Neo: *Oblivious, cupping her cheeks and cutely twisting back and forth*

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

Day 219

Jaune: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Neo: *Silently screaming at the top of her lungs*

Jaune: OH MY GOD NEO WHY THE FUCK IS HE SO BIG!? *Looks fearfully back at a 12 foot tall, musclebound, derpy looking anthroporphic rabbit sprinting at them with rage in its unthinking eyes*

Neo: *Frantically mimes stabbing*

Jaune: NEO, WHAT THE FUCK, I THINK HE’S TOO SWOLE FOR HUSHABYE!!!

Neo: *Heart flutters at Jaune’s name for their spear*

Giant Rabbit: ▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅!

Jaune: *Ears ringing*

Neo: *Points at Jaune’s crotch, mimes stabbing*

Jaune: *Pales* THAT’S PROBABLY THE MOST EVIL THOUGHT YOU’VE EVER HAD IN YOUR LIFE! *Neo pouts, mimes it again* I’M JUST SAYING, NOT JUDGING, LET’S DO IT! *Uses semblance*

Neo: *Commits murder most foul*

Jaune: *Whips out the wooden knife* I’M SO SORRY FOR THIS, YOU OVERGROWN FREAK OF NATURE! *Jumps on the screaming body of the mutated rabbit, starts stabbing*

~~5 Minutes Later~~

Jaune: *Covered in blood, wipes forehead* Phew. Killing something this big really takes it out of you.

Neo: *Covered in blood, staring at Jaune wide eyed*

Jaune: Kind of a shame he looks basically human. Save for his stupid head, I guess, because I kinda don’t wanna eat anything that’ll make me feel too cannibally. *Puts hand on chin, blood drips* But I kinda think this is like the Final Boss of those rabbits. Maybe chop his head off and put on a pike like you did with that poor little blue guy that seemed to be the other blue people’s chief? *Nods resolutely* Yeah, gotta establish dominance and fear in those godless little fucks. *Looks at Neo* What do you think, NeeeMMMMPPPHHH!!!

Neo: *Glomps Jaune, shoves her tongue into his mouth*

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

Day 237

Neo: Gakgh gakgh gakgh!

----------------- 

Day 243

Jaune: Oh god, yeah, fuck yeah, you like that don’t you? *Grabs Neo’s hair*

Neo: *Likes that very much*

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

Day 249

Jaune: *Waggles knife* So, uh, aim for the kidneys?

Neo: *Nods emphatically*

Jaune: Huh. I guess I’ll test it out on Cinder. Thanks honey. *Kisses cheek*

Neo: *Swoons*

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

Day 251

Jaune: *Naked, washing grumpy Neo’s hair* I really mean it! I am so sorry. Just, well, uh...okay, you give amazing head and I wasn’t expecting you to go for the balls. Or, uh, the other thing, but well, um *sighs* look, the taint thing was just really unexpected and I’m really sorry I came in your hair! *Blushes*

Neo: *Can’t help but be proud, leans into his hands*

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

Day  268

Jaune: Is there no end to your flexibility!? *Chokes on air* Nope. Guess not.

Neo: *Doing the splits smugly*

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

Day 274

Jaune: And that is why, despite what people say, Immortal Konflict is superior to Road Combatant!

Neo: *Nods seriously*

Jaune: Wanna play when we get back to Remnant, maybe after we kill Salem in her sleep or something?

Neo: *Nods excitedly*

Jaune: You’re the best! *Kisses temple* Ow, why are you hitting me, I thought you liked kisses!?

Neo: *Liking forehead and temple kisses but not wanting to admit it*

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

Day 296

Jaune: *Cumming inside*

Neo: *Toes curl, signing ‘I Love You’ over and over again*

Jaune: *Panting* God I love you too, Neo.

Neo: *Gapes, signs*

Jaune: *Panting decreases* Uh, yeah? My Dad has permanent hearing damage from his Huntsman days. Some chick had a mortar-giant cudgel-battering ram weapon and you can guess about how well that went.

Neo: *Signs more*

Jaune: I-- *realizes* ohhhh. I get it. Uh, I didn’t even think about it. You never signed so I figured you never learned. Ow, my ass!

Neo: *Stops pinching his ass, signs again but slower*

Jaune: *Blushes brightly* Um, yeah. I did. Is that-- *Neo flips him onto his back, kissing him and rocking her hips*

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

Day 338

Jaune: *Contently holding Neo* This really was the last thing I expected to happen. *Neo nods as she leans into him* I...I don’t think I can ever really not miss Pyrrha, or despise Cinder from the bottom of my soul.

Neo: *Signs rapidly that she feels the same way, that she misses Roman*

Jaune: Yeah. I know. *Clears throat* But I think it’s okay. I mean I didn’t expect this to happen, but I’m glad it did. *Snuggling occurs* We’re gonna get out of here. We’re putting Cinder in the dirt. Then we’re gonna do the same to Salem. Then buy a house.

Neo: *Signs*

Jaune: I’ve kinda been a country boy my whole life. It’s up to you *is headbutted* OW! *Neo rubs the back of her aching head, signs, Jaune rubs his chin* Then it’s decided.

*Enjoying each others presence*

----------------- 

Day 362

Weiss: Actually, the amount of slashes in the trees could just mean some new terrible creature of ridiculous origin could have made this area of the forest its stomping grounds.

Blake: *Flatly* As long it’s not the flying piranhas with steel teeth that drip acid, I’m fine.

Ruby: *Shudders* Please don’t remind me! I’m suppressing, Blake! Do you want to ruin fish sticks and mustard for me!?

Blake: *Grimaces* Yes.

Yang: *Ignores the bickering* Not gonna lie Weiss, after that giant crocodile with the crown and the cape and the penguin with the hammer, something a little more normal and horrific sounds just like home. *Adjusts cheetah print bikini, shifts hips under her grass skirt*

Weiss: *Eyebrow twitches* Right. Home. Which you clearly miss. *Eyes Yang’s flawless tan*

Yang: Huh? Well, yeah! Not to devalue the disaster we have waiting for us when we get back but I’m dying for a cheeseburger and a *in singsong* Strawberry Sunrise!

Ruby: *Cutting off Weiss and ignoring a fuming Blake* It could be Jaune though!

Weiss: Yes, possibly, but you have to consider the fact-- *Steps around tree, goes silent at the sounds*

Neo: *In a mating press clutching her feet, biting her lip and then silently moaning*

Jaune: *Going so hard he’s clapping Neo’s cheeks*

Weiss: --that maybe those living, spiny fruits got us again and we’re all on a very bad trip. *Can’t look away but wants to*

Ruby: *Blushes furiously*

Blake: *Covers nose, turns away*

Yang: I really wanna be there for our boy but *ignores Jaune’s cursing, Neo’s nodding and Jaune pushing in deep and creampieing the silently screaming mute* a really big part of me wants to punch him in his stupid face. Really!? Her!?

Blake: *Muffled* You sure you’re not just salty that it’s Neo?

Jaune: *Awkwardly, wide eyed but happy* Oh. Guys. Hey! Hi! *Weiss screeches as Jaune stands, Neo breathes heavily but grins smugly*

Yang: Nope. Not at all. *Clenching fist*

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

Day 363

Yang: Okay. I’m cool with whole... *gestures at Neo and Jaune holding hands*  thing, because honestly I’d have to be a condescending and arrogant bitch to look down on you because of that, but really?

Ruby: Yang has a point, little blue people and psychotic but also really stupid rabbits and their super-duper-strong Daddy Rabbit? And you killed them alllll oh wow. *Staring at something that Jaune pulled from a bag* That’s a weird looking skull. *Whispering* Why does he have a skull!? Oh no, Neo really did corrupt him and not just with that!

Yang: *Gapes, recovers slowly, sarcastically* She is such a good influence on you Jaune.

Jaune: *Grinning* I know, right? I mean imagine if Neo wasn’t here with me! I probably would’ve survived but I would’ve been so depressed that I’d probably be coming back eyeless and with a ton of PTSD! And maybe a quirky catchphrase!

Yang: Because that’s important. *Rolls eyes* Besides, you couldn’t pull off a catchphrase to save your life.

Jaune: *Face goes slack, contorts stupidly in a scream* BWAAAAH!

Team RWBY: *Jerks*

Neo: *Bites Jaune’s pinky*

Jaune: OW-OW-OW! Take a joke, Neo!

Yang: No, yeah, pretty much on the shrimp’s side.

Weiss: I have no idea what that was but never do it again.

Blake: *Forgives Jaune and Neo for their crusade against the rabbits*

Ruby: *Giggling at the derp face Jaune made*

Jaune: Fine, fine, you win. *Pouting* Using their war cry would have been so insulting to their memory though.

Neo: *Smiling, kisses Jaune’s cheek, signs that he’s a big baby*

Weiss: Getting back to the point though, we didn’t think Jaune would be in nearly as good shape as he’s in now. In that regard I feel we owe Neopolitan a good deal of gratitude.

Blake: And like it or not Yang, having her not just be an enemy of Salem but actually on our side?

Yang: Yeah, well--

Ruby: Plus he’s happy! And I think he kind of needs it. *Sadly* We all do. A-and if Neo is what makes him happy, then I think I’m happy too.

Jaune: *Touched* Rubes...

Ruby: It hurts, Jaune. But I can’t imagine...well, I can’t imagine if it were me. So it’ll take time but the best thing I can do here is be happy for you and get us outta here! *Pumps fist*

Neo: *Signs rapidly*

Jaune: *Grins* And make Cinder and Salem unalive! And in the days leading to that, make them wish they were already dead!

Ruby: *Uncomfortable at the bloodlust* Umm...

Yang: Ah fuck it, you speak my language like that and I can’t stay mad at you! Let’s do it! *Slaps Blake’s ass*

Blake: *Yelps, blushes and glares at Yang* Is this really the time for that!?

Weiss: *Rubbing the bridge of her nose with her eyes squeezed shut* Ah, the onset of a pounding headache. Truly the gang is back together again.

----------------- 

Day 365

Jaune: Kinda conveniant that exactly one year after falling into the mythical island of who knows where we find ourselves back in the real world, isn’t it?

Neo: *Hand on her hip, staring at him*

Yang: I’m with the midget. *Grass skirt swishes* Are you really about to complain we’re free of that hellhole?

Weiss: They have a point. After everything we fought there you’d think you would be more appreciative.

Jaune: I am. It just seemmmmpph! *Is kissed by Neo*

Neo: *Happily shuts Jaune up*

Ruby: Alright, let’s do this!

*Action pose except Yang’s tan, in a cheetah fur bikini and a grass skirt, Jaune has a handful of Neo’s ass and Neo is grabbing Jaune by the hair, clearly using tongue and Hushabye is aimed in a slightly red faced Blake’s direction*

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

I got the chance to see the RWBY finale today and rather than be depressed and think about Penny, I decided I’d go ahead and write a Silent Knight fic instead. It’s all over the place but really, that’s to be expected since I went in with no plan. I know people are already bitching over on Reddit about Jaune possibly getting attention, but like with most people who dislike a character I decided to pay them no mind whatsoever.

Because honestly, with Dragonslayer never happening I’d be perfectly fine with Jaune x Neo.

As for this entire thing, I had way more fun with it than I should have and I hope anyone reading it has just as much fun as I did writing it.

Oh. And yes, there were plenty of Rabbids and Smurfs harmed in the creation of this lengthy drabble.

[thewalkingdead-imagines]

TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “Here’s Negan”

Imagine for the 22nd episode of season 10 

Summary: Until they can find their way back to one another, both Negan and the Reader have to deal with the ghosts of their pasts and overcome present threats that try to rob them of their future in Alexandria 

Leaves rustled underneath Negan’s feet as he moved through the thick undergrowth of the forest, only stopping as he watched Carol kneel down for a second to pull a dead rabbit out of its trap, the first success of this little hunting trip. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for getting me the hell out of there for a bit. I mean you may have noticed things with Maggie and I are a little bit tense”, he spoke up, clearing his throat as he thought back to yet another encounter with her earlier today during his reconstruction shift by the woodhouses. She hadn’t said anything, as usual, but if looks could kill, fuck, he’d be as dead as mutton right now.  Carol only nodded as she got back on her feet, without looking just once at him as she kept on strolling. ”I don’t mind being lay little Negan for a bit but hell, there’s only so far I can go to get out of her way”, Negan started back up, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as they moved out of the darkness of the forest onto more open woodland that was covered with with a couple scattered bushes. He was trying to lead this conversation into a direction without directly going at it like a bull at the gate, hoping that this would give him better chances but Carol either didn’t want or didn’t get the clues he’d been throwing into their rather one-sided conversations since they’d stepped out of the gates of Alexandria.  They still had a deal, and she still hadn’t done her part. A thick sigh left his lips as he looked over at her, before he started back up, for yet another, but more offensive try. “You know I was thinking maybe you put in a word for me”, he said, careful not to trip as he moved over the grassy, overgrow ground,”Let’s move things over at least kinda get the ball rolling. Given our recent history, I kinda figured you owe me that much, right?” Nothing. She didn’t say anything, not even the slightest peep and instead moved straight towards a shabby looking cabin at the end of the clearing, leaving him startled for a moment as he stared in between her and the small house. "You know this place?”, he called out as she kept walking, not turning back to look at him and instead just hummed in agreement.  A small but frustrated groan fell from his lips as he sped up his steps to catch up with her, trying to figure out what she was up to and what that cabin had to do with it until she stopped right on its porch and let the door swing open for him to look inside.  He should’ve known. Fuck he should’ve known that she hadn’t taken him on this trip here because of the goodness of her heart, she had a plan all along and that plan was to get him out of Alexandria. For good. “I see you went ahead and moved me in”, it left his lips with a scoff as he stepped inside the cabin and looked at the boxes that stood in the middle of the room, filled with his belongings while his leather jacket was thrown over a rocking chair right next to them.  This was like a bad dream, a fucking bad dream that he just wanted to wake up from.  ”I’m sorry. The council voted to banish you”, Carol’s voice ripped his eyes from the boxes and darted them at her as she shrugged her shoulders slightly She wasn’t sorry. Nor did the council vote to banish him. This was bullshit. He’d been right there when Gabey had told his wife about the council’s inactivity during his trip with Aaron, he’d been right there when he’d assured the both of them that no decisions would be made about him as long as they were gone.  She was trying to feed him steaming hot bullshit. “What you want just isn’t gonna happen, it’s not possible”, Carol said, the tone in her voice pretty much the same as the one a nanny would use with a clueless, dumb kid,”I know it’s not what I promised but given our less recent history? It’s better than you deserve.” The corner of her lips quirked up as she looked at him, while a part of him was still not fully getting that this here was happening right now. For nearly two weeks he’d been living and working in Alexandria like anybody else, doing his part to build it back up without any problems. And now this shit was happening out of the blue, trying to tear the life with his wife from him that he’d just reached. Looking at the woman in front of him he furrowed his brows, trying to test the waters first and see what she’d do if he’d start to debunk these lies of hers. “Did the council really banish me or is this more of a Carol seizing the reigns kind of situation?”, he started, but instead of an answer, Carol merely started to smile, a condescending and nearly wicked look in her eyes as she tilted her head a little and looked at him before she strutted past him and pushed the dead animal into his hands. “It’s rabbits for you.” “You really didn’t think this through”, Negan called out as she moved to the door, louder now as he could feel the anger starting to boil slowly but surely up in him. This whole shit wasn’t just about his own ass, Carol was pulling his wife into this bullshit too and this was where he drew the line. She’d been happy during these last two weeks, so damn happy to finally gain a bit of the life she’d always dreamed of having with him and he wasn’t gonna let Carol ruin that happiness of hers merely because she thought it was her place to decide over his fate. “My wife’s part of the council”, he said, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips as he could see her stopping in her tracks,”If any decision like that would’ve been made, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d see her raise hell in that little makeshift church right now.” With that he could see her turning around to him, just enough to look at him, not more. “Oh and-”, he called out, snipping fingers in an overdramatic fashion,”When Gabey left with Aaron, he made sure to tell her the council’s inactive for the time being. There was no fucking vote.” She’d been busted, clearly and he could tell that she didn’t plan for him to pull out arguments like these, but much to his annoyance, it didn’t seem to bother her. The look on her face was the same, nearly indifferent, as if she didn’t care about it. “So if I’m supposed to stay here, what’s gonna happen with her?”, Negan called out as he stepped onto the porch, closing the distance as she shrugged her shoulders. “She’s gonna have to decide.” “She’s one of the only doctors left in Alexandria”, it left his lips with a scoff, the anger now starting to let his body tingle as the indifference in Carol’s voice nearly drove him wild,”She’s gonna choose me. You really wanna risk losing another doc just so you can pull your little solo act here?” “I know what I’m doing”, she just said instead of giving him a true answer, before she turned around to strut towards the edge of the clearing ,”She’s gonna find out. Then we’ll see.” “Carol”, it rumbled through Negan’s trembling chest, up his throat that started to tighten the more anger and desperation boiled up in him as he stepped down the porch. Trying to follow her, he took long steps over the overgrown ground, his heart hammering in his chest before Carol’s hand suddenly fell onto the hunting knife on her belt. “Goodbye Negan”, she called out as her hand wrapped around the knife’s handle to send him a clear warning sign,”Do not try something dumb and do not follow me back.” And with that, she vanished in the thicket of the forest, leaving him to stand there like an abandoned dog while his mind was torn on what to do now.

“How’s the book going?”, you heard Steve’s voice sound through to you as he moved back into the infirmary’s main room, merely some new towels in his hands as he strolled closer. “Pretty good actually”, you said as you nodded down to Negan’s anniversary gift and looked over the dried burdock leaf that he’d glued onto one side and your notes about the medical herb that were already starting to cover the page beside it, “Really starting to look like a handbook.” “Good, I can really use that. Your handwriting is much easier to read than those notes of Siddiq, the info is gold but wow, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a messier handwriting”, Steve said with a soft chuckle, though you could clearly still hear the same sadness sound through it you felt anytime you realized that your friend was gone. A bittersweet look fell between your notebook and  Siddiq’s notes that laid right next to it, that had helped you on every step of the way to fill this book up.  Slowly you started to nod, about to reply to Steve before a mixture of loud voices made your glance shoot up. “We got an emergency”, you could hear a voice call out, stressed and full of panic before you saw the reason for this turmoil that made your mood switch up from one moment to another. Hanging in between a group of four people that carried him as well as they could hung Carter, barely conscious while a large piece of metal protruded his leg that was covered in dark red blood. “He fell from a ladder on one of the broken pipes”, you could hear one of them say entirely out of breath as they pushed inside and the first thick splatters of blood fell onto the floor in the very moment you rushed towards them. “We need help, now.” Negan’s fingertips were digging into the worn down wood of the windowsill, his eyes staring out at the forest while his mind was running wild.  What the fuck was he supposed to do now?  He didn’t wanna head back, run into Carol and find himself with a knife sticking into his damn back. Fuck knew what she’d actually do but he sure as shit wouldn’t risk it, not after the way she’d betrayed his ass just now.  Sighing he started to walk through the shabby cabin, trying to find just anything to do with himself. There was no way his wife would be here anytime soon, even if she’d hear about Carol’s new plan as soon as she’d arrive back at Alexandria, and he highly doubted that. This place was still far out and he was stuck here now. “Fuck this”, he growled, kicking against the rocking chair that was still filled with his belongings even though he felt like a tantrum throwing toddler the moment his foot met the wood. He was fucking stuck here. Gulping thickly he moved in to take his leather jacket into his hands, run his fingers over the smooth leather as he stared down at it, gulping thickly as his eyes found the marks Lucille’s wire had left here years ago.  Looking at them still gave him a bitter feeling. To this day he still didn’t know where she was, no idea what had happed to her after Rick had taken her from his patient’s room in the infirmary. He had no clue if she was somewhere locked away in Alexandria as his wife still hypothesized or if she’d really fallen off that wagon during a weapon transport as Michonne had tried to sell him once...he didn’t know.  Gulping thickly he ran his fingers over the marks, thinking back to the last time he’d held her on that goddamn hill that had decided over his fate and merely the memory of it kicked off another range of thoughts. Could they have brought her back there? Was that a possibility? He’d made up his theories over the year in lonely moments down in that cell, without taking any of them all to serious to not let them fuck with his head but the more he thought about it now, the more it seemed like an actual possibility. Rick had always been a nostalgic fucker, he could see him going back there and placing his Lucille at the place he’d slashed his throat and ended the war only to tie up loose ends, only to put some kind of symbolic end to it and give himself another piece of peace after Carl’s death. He could give it a try, right? Just to keep his mind occupied and pass the time until he could make any other decisions for his future. If his wife would even arrive here today, she wouldn’t do so soon, so even if it would just keep him busy instead of actually bring his bat back, this was worth a try, right? 

Blood, so much blood. For way too long if felt like you only saw red everywhere you looked. Carter’s leg, the bandages, the cot and the floor until you finally saw Steve’s blood covered hands handing you the last bit of tape to secure the edge of the thick bandage that was wrapped around the leg, marking the end of this ordeal. it took yet another while until you were sure that Carter was stable and the next shift started that finally displace you before you could wash the blood off your hands and stumble outside, plummet down onto the bench that leaned against the wall.  Sighing thickly propped your elbows onto your knees, trying to get yourself to realize that you were done for today and were allowed to relax now before you saw Steve moving outside, two glasses of water in his hands.  “Thought we could use a bit of a refreshment”, he said, a tired tone in his voice as he stretched one of the glasses towards you. “Thank you”, you mumbled with an exhausted smile, taking the glass from his hand before he let himself fall next to you and sighed deeply. “God I’m glad our shift is over now”, he said, relief swinging through his voice as you took a sip of your water and leaned back against the cushion of the bench,”Can’t wait to go home, eat some dinner with Daniel and then take a big nap.” “Mhmm...sounds like a good plan”, you said, taking another gulp of the water before a small chuckle fell from your lips,”Negan and I found have that DVD collection in our house and honestly, I just wanna out whatever in that console, plunge down on the couch and just shut my brain out.” A sigh left your lips, exhausted but content as you already looked forward to the moment you’d be able to cuddle up against him and switch this bench for the comfy couch. ”Just relax and watch some kinda show, even though I’ll probably fall asleep while I’m at it tho”, you mumbled, a soft yawn leaving your lips as you heard Steve humming in agreement. ”I like that plan too”, he said as you glimpsed over at him and saw him throwing you an exhausted but cheerful look,”Think I’m gonna have to lend one or two DVDs of yours some time, we’ve been rewatching the same stuff for way too long now.” ”Well you’re always welcome to stop by and take a peek at ‘em”, you chuckled, moving in to take your last sip while a small laugh fell from Steve’s lips. “You bet!” With his hands tightly wrapped around the handle of the shovel he’d luckily found in the back of that cabin, Negan found himself standing on the side of the hill, digging into the soil over and over again. There were already holes scattered all around him, with none if them leading to Lucille, nor any clue about her.  A thick sigh fell from his lips as he turned his head towards the sound of a walker groan in the distance, faint and barely audible but he could see that dirty fucker shuffling at the foot of the hill, awfully slow and thankfully lonely. That asshole wouldn’t be a problem for him for a while. Turning back around he squinted his eyes slightly, keeping them from being dazzled by sinking sun that started to vanish behind the hill’s top, before his eyes fell on the glimmering glass window that was still hung up on the tree, just as it had years ago, still missing the same shard of colorful glass that Rick had used to slash his jugular with.  With a thick gulp Negan looked back down, not all too excited about the memories that started to flood his mind all over again, so instead of spending another moment thinking about the events that had happened here, he dug his shovel back into the soil, hoisting a large piece out of it before a disappointed sound fell from his lips. Again, nothing. “Fuck this”, he growled to himself, staring angrily at the ground below him. Why the fuck was he even so upset? Chances were low that she was actually here, he knew that and still he found himself frustrated.  Clearing his throat he strolled along the hill’s side, a little further upward as he gave himself three more chances and then he’d head back to the cabin. Chance 1? Nothing, he just split a poor damn rainworm in half.  Chance 2? Nothing again, hole was as empty as a dumb fuck’s head. Chance 3?...still, nothing.  “Fuck”, Negan spat out, his hand tightening around the handle, a frustrated groan falling from his lips as he angrily slammed the shovel’s edge into the soil. But instead of the usual shuffling sound, a dull one echoed through the air, letting him flinch and shoot his glance down into the grass as his hands went back to work lickety split. This could be anything, fucking anything but this could also be...it was her.  It was really her.  The barbed wire peaked out of the grass, slightly detached from the wood that was laying there in the ground, just enough dug out for him to clearly see the bat “Holy fuck”, Negan chocked out as he started to carefully rise her out of the soil, his eyes turning wide as he let the shovel fall and leaned down to carefully pick her up.  “Ricky you nostalgic fucker”, Negan mumbled, though his throat was already tightening as he glimpsed down at the bat that had once brought him through this world. He couldn’t believe his eyes for another moment while his thumb ran along the worn down wood that had once been smooth and shiny. He could feel his nose tingling slightly as some tears blurred his view, the mere feeling of holding the bat and the view of her in his hands enough to overwhelm him for a moment.  “Oh my-”, it left his lips as he gulped the thick lump in his throat down, turning the bat softly in his hands to get a good look of her. Nature had taken its toll on her, but the bat was still the same, it still gave him the very same warm and safe feeling after all this time. It was still her. A small sniffle let his lips as he stared down at it and felt the heaviness of the emotions she carried wash over him, nearly putting him into a bubble of memories before the groaning of the walker that had shuffled at the hill’s foot earlier got louder.  Turning around he saw the dead asshole stumbling closer up the hill while a small grin grew on his face as he rocked Lucille in his hands and held her up like he’d done it thousands of times before.  “C’mere fucker”, Negan mumbled, adjusting his posture a little before the walker reached him and he swung Lucille up before rushing her down in a smooth but harsh motion, right against the walker’s skull. A groan fell from his lips as he could see the walker starting to sink to his feet, just as he lunged out one more time and bashed Lucille into the rotting skull, but instead of the squelching sound of flesh, a dull one drowned it that made his heart sink from one moment to another.  “No...no”, he gasped, staring down at his broken bat....at his broken Lucille. She hadn’t only lost her top part, she was split down her length, only held together by the rusted barbed wire at this point and his hands that started to tremble more the longer he looked at her broken parts. One moment ago he’d been basking in the joy of finally finding her again and now, now he could feel the lump in his throat growing again as he stared down at the broken bat.  From joy to grief in one moment, from relief to regret in the other.  “Fuck”, it left his lips with a defeated sound, his eyes welling over with tears as he could feel a dull, pressuring pain spreading over his body, tightening its grasp on him as he fell to his knees and felt the first tear rolling down his cheek as he weighed the broken Lucille in his hands. Could this day become any worse?

The sun was already starting to vanish behind the skyline of the trees as you finally found yourself heading towards Negan’s workplace by the walls, ready to pick him up and just get yourselves home.  ”Hey”, you called out with a tired smile as you finally reached the woodhouses and could see Barbara and Daniel still working outside, though you couldn’t spot Negan yet. ”Hey, is Carter doing fine?”, Daniel asked as he stepped from the porch of the house, leaning himself against the wall as you gave him a quick nod. ”Yeah, took a bit but we’ve got him wrapped up now. He just needs to rest”, you said as you moved closer over the grassy ground and nodded towards the cabin’s door. ”Negan’s inside?” ”Nah”, Daniel said, shaking his head as you glanced confused at him,”Went out with Carol a couple hours ago to hunt. Saw her back around here earlier though, he’s probably already at your home.” ”Ah okay. Thank you”, you started to nod again before you made your way back to the road, not questioning that hunting trip all too much though it surprised you a bit that Carol had decided to take him along with her, mostly because she’d been avoiding the both of you during the last while. Instead of waisting your thoughts any longer on the trip you hurried down the street, just eager to  get home, relax and hear Negan talk a bout his day.  Finally, you moved up the porch stairs of your home, already trying to peek inside and see if Negan was standing by the stove and cooking something but as you stepped inside, you found the living room and kitchen empty. ”Negan? I’m home”, you called out, moving towards the hallway as your only remaining guess was that he had simply just showered and didn’t hear you yet up in your bathroom or was so exhausted that he’d laid down for a quick nap. Moving up the stairs who tried to hear if you could hear him moving around, but instead of footsteps or a rustling sounds you heard nothing but complete silence. “Negan?”, you quietly asked as you opened the door of your bedroom, a part of you nearly waiting to see him sprawled out and snoozing on the bed but as you moved inside, your confusion got doubled. The bed was completely empty, the same way you’d left it this morning but your closet stood open, the bunch of shirts and pants that usually laid stocked up next to your clothes gone. ”What the-”, it fell from your lips, cut off by your confusion as you moved towards the closet and looked at his Negan’s nearly empty spot. Not all was gone, a bit of his clothes way left, some boxer shorts, a couple white shits and some sweatpants but that was it. More confusion flooded your head with every second you stared longer at the opened door, trying to piece the parts of this puzzle together even though you didn’t even have merely enough of them to make sense of this.  Negan wouldn’t leave, that was an option that you could exclude from the very first moment on but you still didn’t know what to think and what Negan’s absence and his missing clothes meant, before it slowly started to trickle down on you and a bitter suspicion washed over you.  If anyone had to know something about this, it had to be the last person he’d been seen with. Feeling your heart starting to hammer in your chest you rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet as you moved down the hallway and back into your living room. Your eyes were roaming over the room as you hurried through it, as if they were trying to pick more pieces to this puzzle on your way out and from one moment to another, they did.  Next to the vase of flowers on your dinner table laid a folded up piece of paper that you hadn’t even noticed when you’d first stepped back into your home, a piece of paper that looked like a map as soon as you got closer.  Still filled with confusion and tension you grabbed it, unfolding it with quick movements only to feel a wave of nausea wash over you as soon as you saw the cross that marked a spot on the paper and the note underneath it that confirmed your suspicion. “Negan has been banished from Alexandria. Marked spot shows the cabin’s he’s residing at from now on.”

Nausea, anger, fear and desperation turned into a toxic cocktail within your body as you found yourself rushing down the street, clasping tightly onto the map while your eyes were fixated at the brownstones in front of you, blending out anything and anyone else on the road. Your breath was heavy, your body trembling and nearly cramped up with suspense while the growing anger made your body heat up to the point that made it feel like it was on fire while you stormed into the first brownstone’s hallway, heading up the flight of stairs with heavy, fast steps towards Carol’s apartment.  She’d done it again. A fucking solo act. You just knew it. And this time she’d gone way too far and she’d pay for that. Banging against the door of her apartment you could feel the side of your hand starting to heat up as it met the wood over and over again until you finally heard footsteps inside that finally stopped right in front of you and the squeaking of the opening door echoed through the staircase.  “What is this?!”, you snapped the moment you saw her face, holding up the map in your hand as you glared at her,”What the fuck did you do?” “I did what I had to do”, she said, the tone in her voice indifferent but firm, not at all bothered by your reaction as if she’d already known that you’d come to her place earlier or later. “Are you kidding me?!”, you called out, feeling your voice starting to tremble as the anger within you started to become more and more the longer you had to look at her. “This wasn’t a situation that could stay the same any longer”, she merely said, in the very same tone as before ,”i did what was necessary to not let it escalate.” With that, she tried to close the door on you only for your flat hand to push harshly against the wood, letting it flip open again as you could feel it boiling within you. First she pulled this shit, then acted as if what she was in the right and now she tried to fob you off.  “No, no you didn’t”, you snapped, moving forward to push into her apartment so she couldn’t even try to close the door again ,”Your job was to hold up to your end of the bargain. You told me you’d do it.” “Things don’t always work out the way we want them to”, she said, a lecturing tone in her voice, almost as if she was talking to a child instead of an adult,”You should know that by now.” Staring at her you could feel your whole body tense up, could feel an anger seeping into your body that you hadn’t felt before, an anger that got you worked up, an anger that was fueled by the frustration of unfairness over the years, an anger that was emotionally loaded with your urge to protect your husband and the life you’d just gained. The life that was threatened by the reckless act of the woman in front of you that looked at you with an indifference that drove you wild. “You fucking bitch”, you spat out, your self control starting to leave your body as you closed the distance between the both of you and could hear your trembling voice starting to become louder. “You’ve had Negan do your goddamn dirty work, risk his damn life and kill that skinfreak and instead of doing the goddamn bare minimum of laying in a good fucking word for him you had the goddamn audacity to go into our home, go through his stuff and lead him outside under a goddamn pretext”, you yelled out, heavy breaths shaking through your chest as you glared down at her,”You took the fucking easy way out! Like always.” “I did him a favor”, she dared to say, so firm and cold that you could feel the suspense in your body starting to skyrocket,”Maggie would have killed him at some point if I wouldn’t have brought him outside.” “Stop with that fucking bullshit!”, you snapped, stepping closer towards her as she still didn’t even flinch once,”You did yourself a favor. Maggie won’t do shit to him, not on my watch, nor if you would’ve done your part of the deal. You just did this shit so you don’t have to show some responsibility for your actions for fucking once.” “I stand with my decision”, she said the moment your voice hushed, a condescending smile starting to spread over her lips as she tilted her head and looked at you,”And I will not change it. We all have to deal with our own shit and so do you.” There’s this certain moment when anger gets so intense it puts a person into a trance, the type of anger that swallows someone up, puts a bubble around them and turns them from a seething volcano into one that is seconds away from erupting.  And right now, that was happening to you.  You couldn’t see clear anymore, your view a blur, the map fallen from your hands that were balled so tightly your knuckles turned white while your head was clouded with rage that just needed one little more push to kick you off the eruption. And Carol gave that kick to you, with one small sentence. ”And considering what he’s done in the past he got better than he deserved.” A dull but loud sound echoed through the air as your fist meet her jaw, fast and hard enough to make her stumble back for a moment while your hands were already wrapping around her throat, not tight enough to choke her but tight enough to get a hold on her to push her into the nearest wall. “Considering what he’s done?!”, you screamed, your hands still wrapped around her throat as you glared wide eyes down at her,“What he’s fucking done?!” For the first time she didn’t say anything, her eyes were staring into the emptiness, unwilling to meet yours at first before your grasp tightened just enough to finally make her look into your face. “He saved our fucking asses. He did the shit you couldn’t get done!”, you yelled, your voice still trembling, near before breaking and only held up by the anger that had finally found its valve,”All you’ve done lately is get people killed!” For the first time since you’d stepped into this apartment you saw a stirring in her eyes while your own started to fill with tears, blurring your glance as your voice kept screaming at her. “Stop with the fucking solo acts! Fucking stop ruining the lives of everyone around you!” Just then you slowly started to come back as the anger started to become replaced with the fear and sadness that simmered underneath the rage. Your hands fell of her throat as you stepped back, staring at your shaking right hand whose knuckles were flushed in a bright red from the lunge you’d taken at her. Sniffles started to fall from your lips as the first tears rolled down your cheeks, your emotions still so strong that they were keeping your whole body under control. “I’m sick of this”, you felt it rolling quietly from your trembling lips as more tears fell from your eyes and the build up frustration got the best of you. For a moment there, you were almost scared of yourself, of how much that anger had taken hold of you, of how it had pushed through your usual levelheadedness, something that hadn’t happened quite like this before but you’ve just had enough, of the constant fears, of the constant playing with Negan’s life and the hypocrisy that you had to face from the same people over and over again. You weren’t sorry for what you did. You were actually glad you’d finally put her in her place. Sniffing you looked back up, gulping thickly as you saw her leaning against the wall, staring at you at you, an odd mix of coldness and shock in her eyes as you reached for the map on the ground and glared one last time over at her. “I will come back with my husband and you’ll hold up to the end of the deal or I swear to god I’ll raise hell.” Fire was burning in the small fireplace of the cabin, lightening up the room that was becoming darker and darker with every passing moment. The flames ate away at the chops of wood, its warm light illuminating up the glass in his hands that was filled up with some whiskey he’d found tucked away in one of the counters. Shuffling over the small stool by the fire he tried to get as comfortable as he could, huffing to himself as his eyes swayed from Lucille that laid propped up against the wall next to the fireplace over into the flames.  How the fuck did he get to this point?  Where exactly did he go wrong to end up sitting here on that fucking hard stool that made his ass hurt, staring into the flames while the only thing that was there to keep him company him in these moments was that damn whiskey in his glass? 

The sun was already gone and the dusk was starting to flow into the night when you found yourself walking away from Alexandria, a small backpack buckled around your shoulders and a hunting knife in one hand, the map in your other.  Going out now was dangerous and you knew it but you couldn’t care less, nor did you have much of a choice. Staying was no option, you had to find Negan, better earlier than later and make sure to reverse whatever Carol had brought about. Fuck knows what else she’d told him that she might have withheld from you. You were still on edge, still completely filled up with tension that kept a tight hold on your body while you did your very best to stay focused and not run into a group of dead fucks.  A shivering breath fell from your lips, turning into a cloud of steam the moment you breathed it out as you could feel the cold of the approaching night starting to sneak up on you, slipping underneath your jacket while your cold hands were clasping onto your knife. Moving up you flipped on the small pocket flashlight that was dangling on one of the belts of your backpack and moved the map to make sure that you were still following the right route.  Squinting your eyes your glance roamed over the paper, trying to get a grip of it before you folded it back up, switched the flashlight off and slowly moved down the blacktop to follow a narrow, nearly overgrown path into the forest, hoping that the moonlight would be enough to guide you. Step by step you found yourself halting and looking at the map, catching your thoughts and worries feeding away at your concentration that in turn fueled the frustration that was still reigning within you.  By now, you should have already reached the stream that ran closeby the marked spot on the map, but neither did you hear flowing water anywhere near you, nor did you know exactly anymore if you were on the right track. “Shit”, you grumbled to yourself as you stared at the map, half mad at the whole situation, half mad at yourself for not getting your shit together before the sudden sound of groans made your glance shoot up. In a knee-jerk reaction you shut the small light back off and reached for a tighter grasp on your knife, looking around yourself before you caught a group of six or seven walkers wandering through the woods.  Squeezing your mouth shut you tried to stay quiet, avoid attracting the dead as you slowly stepped back, trying to let the shadow of the trees shield you from being spotted before you heard a loud crack as a dried branch broke beneath your shoe. “Damnit”, you whispered to yourself, gulping thickly as you watched the walkers turn their head towards you, snarling as they spotted your figure and started to stumble into your direction. There was no way you could take them on now without putting yourself too much at risk, in the middle of the night, with your head filled up with emotions that worked against your concentration and an exhausted mind that was trying to press in on you whenever it possibly could. This was not a fight you should take on, not now. Turning around you started to move further into the dark, trying to put distance between yourself and the dead to hide out behind a tree and wait for them to pass. The thick undergrowth made it hard for you to move quick and made you more careful to not trip and get yourself into even bigger problems. With every step it felt like you could hear the groans continuously echoing through the dark while your heart started to speed up again and pumped against your chest, so loud you could nearly hear it pounding in your ears. Glimpsing behind yourself you couldn’t see them anymore, enough for you to figure that they wouldn’t be able to see you either and with a bunch of more steps you moved to your left and rounded the nearest, thickest tree to brace yourself tightly against its stem to be out of view for the dead. Gulping thickly you tried to keep your fastening breath under control as your eyes kept on roaming over the dim lit forest, your position not allowing you to see any of the walkers but instead only hear them as they started to come closer. The groans got louder and louder, mixing with the sound of their shuffling steps as you kept your body tightly pressed against the tree and tried to calm your heavy breathing down, telling yourself that this was all you had to do until you could go back to searching for that damn cabin. For a moment, you could feel yourself tense up again as you heard them starting to pass you, merely a bunch of meters past your spot before their groans slowly started to become quieter, and were only a quiet sound in the distance a small while later.  Finally, you allowed yourself to let out a thick sigh and close your eyes for a moment, trying to get your concentration back on and continue your search for the cabin. Pushing yourself away from the stem you moved forwards, trying to figure out how far you’d moved from your original spot as you walked as quietly as you could back into your old direction, still holding tightly onto the map and your knife before a gasp left your lips as you felt a cold hand grabbing your ankle and a low, nearly inaudible groan echoed through the air. The sudden grasp was harsh and strong enough to make you lose your balance and fall to the hard ground, a painfilled groan falling through your lips as the fall made a stinging pain rush up from your rump up your back. Panicking you glanced up, watching as a severely decayed walker tried to peel itself from the spot by the tree it had grown attached to, its nearly entirely destroyed jaw hanging from its skull along with its rotting tongue that kept it from making sounds any louder than a hum.  “Shit”, you growled, kicking towards the dead to make it lose its grasp on your ankle while it suddenly lunged towards you as it detached itself with one last push from the moss overgrown tree. Gasping you could feel it landing above you, its dead hands grasping you as it tried to snap forward, its disgusting stench rising up your nose as you could feel your survival instincts kicking in and mixing with the built up frustration, as well as with the anger and the distress Carol had brought over you earlier.  Glaring into the dead eyes of the walker you rushed your knife up, aiming for its head as you’d done it with thousands of walkers before, but instead of seeing the blade dig into its skull, the walker’s arm reached up in the very same moment and made the blade sink into its flesh while it kept on snapping at you. From one second to another the frustration filled your whole head again, fueling the rage that had never truly calmed down within you as you let out a frustrated groan and pushed the dead with all your strength off of your body. “Fuck you, you fucking asshole”, you growled out, ripping the blade out of the dead’s arm as you kept it caged beneath you, hearing its snapping sounds in the very moment you let the blade rush down with all of your strength into the rotting skull. But instead of stopping there you could feel the tension and all those pent up emotions taking you over, clasping onto you as as they filled your head and made the knife stab over and over again into the walker’s head while emotion fueled memories rushed through your head. The constant fear to lose Negan while he was gone, the happiness you’d felt to finally get a life with him you’d always wished for and now, having it nearly torn away from you again just because one fucking person would rather go on and try to fuck up your lives all over again instead of doing the bare goddamn minimum she’d promised to do. And now, instead of being cuddled up on the couch with Negan in your home, you were in the middle of the dark fucking woods, trying to smooth out the fucking disaster Carol had kicked off again, with no fucking clue where you actually were, hanging over a fucking walker that had nearly tried to kill your ass. Over and over again your knife rushed down into the skull, your mind anywhere but actually here, as pants erupted your whole body and made you shake while your heart pumped up your throat. And just then as you pulled your knife once more out of the destroyed skull you realized that you were crying again, sobbing actually as you fell back off the dead onto the ground and stared at what you’d just done.  ”Fuck”, it left your trembling lips as you could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears while more hot tears streamed down your face and blurred your vision. Sniffling you looked up at the stars to calm yourself down and avoid looking at the defaced corpse beside you, letting your glance move from one star to another as your heart and your breath finally started to slow down again.  And just then, just as you couldn’t hear your heartbeat in your ears anymore, you could suddenly hear the soft rushing of flowing water nearby that made you prick up your ears. Scrambling to your feet you moved up and followed the sound, hoping that this wasn’t a sick game your mind was playing with you. Brushing your tears off your face you moved closer, step by step and careful to not get yourself into any other tricky situation until a burden seemed to fall right off your shoulders as you peeked through the trees and finally saw the flowing water glistening in the dim moon light. You’d found it, you’d fucking found it.  And now, you just needed to find Negan. Time passed and he still didn’t have an answer to his questions and he knew deep down he’d never truly get them.  A shivering breath fell from his lips as he stared into his emptying whiskey glass, closing his eyes for a moment as he pinched the bridge of his nose and gulped thickly.  Maybe his wife wouldn’t even show up today here anymore, maybe something happened that made her stay longer at the infirmary and she didn’t even know yet about this whole thing. Regardless of what had truly went down she wasn’t here, and it was starting to eat away at him, just the bare thought of what she must feel as soon as she’d find out. She deserved that life they’d been living lately, that life that could come as close to that apple pie life as a life in the damn apocalypse could. She deserved every single part of it, regardless of it was merely being able to wake up in a warm, cozy bed in the morning or to lay outside in the garden to watch the sunset turn the sky into a ray of pretty colors without a worry in the world.  But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was on his way to pull the woman he loved once more into his misery.  Shivering and clasping onto his glass he found himself glimpsing at Lucille, at the barbed wire and the broken wood that broke his heart all over again. He hadn’t been able to give her the life she deserved to live, and now the same thing was about to happen with (Y/N) too, all over again. Maybe he just didn’t deserve to have his happy end. He’d been such a fucking asshole, such a goddamn fucking asshole that never deserved for Lucille to put up with him the way she did after everything that had happened after he lost his job.  He could still way too vividly remember the anger he’d felt after that asshole had gotten him fired, that goddamn asshole from that bar that had provoked him, snarled at Lucille and then came at him so he’d simply lost it and beat him into the ground. He could blame that fucker all he wanted for provoking him, for coming at him, for making him lose his job at the school, for suing him and making his Lucille pay for the fucking hospital bills because he couldn’t anymore, but he couldn’t blame him for the decisions he’d made after.  Losing his job and being put on prohibition for this bullshit had made him fall into a deep hole, one that he hadn’t been able to crawl out from, one that had turned him into a fucking undeserving bastard. A bastard that hadn’t known how to get back on his feet. A bastard that had gone as far to cheat on his wife with her goddamn friend just to make himself feel appreciated in some sick way. A bastard that hadn’t gone to pick her up from her MRI because he was busy fucking said friend.  A bastard that needed to see her throw the chemo brochures right onto the table in front of him and tell him she had cancer to finally turn his life around. He was still ashamed of himself, so fucking ashamed of the things he’d done back then and nothing, nothing that he’d done after had made him feel like he’d been able to make up for the shit he’d done before. Sniffling, Negan found himself shifting over the stool, his eyes filled with tears as he stared at the bat and felt his trembling fingers fumble on the glass in his hands, trying to distract himself from the memories that started to flood his head and torture him. He’d fought like hell to make up for the shit he’d done, he’d fought like hell to keep her going as this hell of a world had broken loose in the midst of her treatment, finding bag after bag for her chemo and teach himself how to administer it. He’d tried to keep her spirits high and brought her this bunch of wigs he’d found on a run in an abandoned shop, he tried his best to keep their generator going and free of the dead so they could watch movies even if killing walkers freaked the shit out of him back then, he’d tried to sing their song to her and hold her in the freezing nights that made her nausea usually worse. He’d tried to be a good husband. He’d tried to be the man she deserved and not give up even when things had taken their turn for the worse and that fucking generator had shut down in the middle of the night and made them lose the last bags of useable chemo supplies. He could still remember their last conversation that day, how she’d told him that she’d known about his affair all along, how she’d known that he’d stopped and never talked to her again after her diagnosis, how she wanted him to know that he’d made up for it and that he could stop pushing himself now.  He could remember how she’d asked him to stay, how she asked him to give up searching for new chemo supplies and just be with her when she went. He could remember how she told him that it was time for him to move on without her and instead, do her fighting for her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her and he couldn’t bear letting her go. So he went out again.  It took weeks of searching until he found the medical RV of Laura and her father, and it took yet another run in with a fucking gang of biker pigs until he could finally drive home with the chemo bags and bring them too her only to find out that after everything, he’d been too late.  She was already gone.  ODed, with a bag over her head, a belt around her neck that tied her to the bed so she couldn’t lunge at him and “Please don’t leave me like this” written over the door.  She’d killed herself while he was gone, while he was gone out there searching for supplies when he should’ve just listened to her.  She shouldn’t have died there with that fucking plastic bag over her head, she should’ve been able to fall peacefully asleep in his arms and drift off into an eternal sleep.  And after everything, he couldn’t even go through with taking her down, he just couldn’t bring himself to dive a knife into her and instead he ended up trying to stun his grief with alcohol until he took the last resort and set his home on fire, hoping it would take her down and fulfill her last wish. He’d always wanted to make things better with (Y/N). From the moment on he found himself falling for her he wanted to make sure that he’d make things right this time and again, he’d failed. He didn’t get to give her the life she deserved, instead, she was stuck with him for years in that cell, giving him more than he could ever give her back and each time he thought about it, it felt like god played a sick game with him. Here you go have a second chance at love, but beware, you won’t be able to do things right now either. This fucking cabin, this fucking situation was the living proof of it and he didn’t know how to cope with it, how to cope with the fucking possibility that he was part of the reason their life would be destroyed again after it seemed like they‘d finally been able to settle down into a more peaceful life.  Wincing Negan could feel himself erupting in more tears as he felt the empty glass fall with a dull thud from his hands onto the wooden floor, echoing through his head as a whimper fell from his trembling lips as his mind drifted to something that had whirled through it far more than once during the last weeks. Something (Y/N) had said to him after he’d melted down and asked her how she’d been able to fall in love with him back at the start, something Lucille had said to him when he’d asked her in tears how why she’d put up with him even after everything he’d done. “I already saw the man in you that you are right now”, were (Y/N)’s words, so hauntingly similar to the words Lucille had told him this one night that it made a shudder run down his back any time he thought of it. How in hell did he deserve for two women to fall in love with him and see something in him that he’d never been able to grasp? How did he deserve for those two women to love him so deeply they’d stick with him through anything and never lose their faith in him? How the fuck did he deserve that? Sniffling, Negan looked into the flames, the fire only a blur of red and orange before he reached up to brush the tears off his cheeks and run his hand down his face to keep himself from losing it entirely. Trembling he dried his tears with the sleeve of his shirt, sighing deeply as he glimpsed back at the fireplace only to flinch up in the very same moment as he heard the squeaking wood door open behind him and heard the voice he’d been dying to hear for hours. “Negan?” Your voice was faint and careful as you said his name and stepped into the cabin, watching as Negan turned around from his spot by the fireplace with a relieved but still startled look on his face. “Hey”, you could hear him say, his voice strained and thick with emotion as he stumbled towards you and just then gave you a chance to see his slightly reddened eyes, the exhausted look on his face and the slight wetness that was still daubing his cheeks. But before you could say anything he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tightly into his embrace, cradling you against his chest while his trembling body pressed up against yours.  You only hugged him back without saying anything yet, cuddling into him to finally feeling his warmth enclosing you after the turmoil that you’d been through until you’d finally found this place. And then slowly, very slowly Negan started to loosen his grasp on you, before he backed just enough away to look down at you and run his glance over your face, as if he was trying to check if you were fine. “Are you okay?”, it instead fell from your lips as you reached up to softly stroke over his wet cheek, a worried look pressing in over your face as he slowly started to nod. “I’m much better now that you’re here”, he mumbled, leaning in to press a soft, nearly delicate kiss over your lips before a small sniffle left his lips and you glimpsed for the first time away from him and through the room that was only enlightened by the small fire.  Carol had truly given her all, putting two full baskets of Negan’s belongings into this cabin, along with his leather jacket that hung over a rocking chair by the windows and something else that suddenly caught your eye, something that leaned against the wall by the fireplace and nearly made you believe your mind was playing tricks on you. “What-”, it left your lips as you stared at the bat, furrowing your brows in utter surprise as your glance stayed stuck on it,”Is that Lucille?” A soft sigh fell from Negan’s lips as grasped your jaw gently, just enough so he’d get you to look at him before he gulped thickly and nodded towards the spot by the fireplace. “Let’s just sit down for a moment, okay?” Mere minutes later you found yourself sitting on a small stool next to Negan by the fire, listening to him as he talked about how this day had played out for him. How Carol had lead him into the woods, how he had gone back to the hill of the war to see if he could find Lucille and how she broke just mere moments after he found her. From moment to moment you could find your eyes hooked on the broken bat, still not quite believing that she’d been there all this time while you’d searched all of Alexandria for her, so confident in the thought that they’d actually hid her somewhere around town. “When did you find out?”, you heard Negan say, ripping your glance from Lucille and back at him. “Around sunset? I was longer than planned at the infirmary”, you said, gulping thickly as you shuffled a little over the stool below you,”Carter fell on a broken pipe and we just...we just took some time until we had him all fixed up and then when I wanted to go pick you up from the woodhouses...Daniel told me that you’d gone out with Carol to hunt earlier but that he’d seen her around again.” A thick sigh fell from your lips as you glanced down for a moment, shrugging your shoulders softly before your eyes met his again. “So I guessed you’d already be back home and when I got there I just found our closet open, with some of your stuff gone and that damn map on the dinner table”, you mumbled, nodding towards the map that laid along with the backpack next to your stool. “I didn’t take off right away”, you added, letting out a huff as the mere thought of it put some new tension right back onto you,”Paid Carol a visit before and I just-...I lost it.” With that, Negan’s brows perked up, half curious, half worried as you sighed quietly and shrugged softly. “I may or may not have punched her and pushed her into a wall...by her throat.” “You did what?”, you heard Negan say, something that could even come close to a chuckle fell from his lips as he still looked with perked brows at you, clearly waiting for you to go on. “Wouldn’t say I’m proud of it... can’t remember the last time I blew a fuse like that-”, you said, stopping yourself as you could feel yourself getting worked up again though you surely didn’t want that to happen now all over again,”But the things she said-...how she said them. She smiled into my damn face while she said it, so fucking demeaning and full of ignorance...I just-” “Yeah, can imagine that”, Negan said as soon as your voice broke off, nodding as he clenched his jaw slightly ,”Pulled the same attitude here.” “And then she said on top of it all that you got better than you deserve with this cabin here and it just clicked”, you said with another sigh, before a thick gulp travelled down your throat as Negan reached out for your hand to take it into his, squeezing it softly as you could feel your emotions starting to well up again. “After everything, you deserve so, so much more”, you said, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand while you could see Negan’s eyes softening,”You deserve the damn world.” With that, his reddened eyes started to fill back up with tears and a thick gulp travelled down his throat as his hand grasped yours tighter and a small sniffle fell from his lips. “You do, Baby...you do”, he choked out, trying to keep his voice up by all means as his glance feel in between the bat and you, his eyes blurred with tears as you shuffled closer towards him,”You do. Lucille did. And I-...I don’t know how I got so lucky to hit the jackpot twice.” It didn’t take more than that for your emotions to get the best of you again and fill your eyes with tears as well and boil all those feelings that had whirled through you back up, while Negan shook his head as the first tears fell from his eyes. “I just-...you put all these years up with me being in that damn cell, you went through so much pain because of me and for all these fucking years I couldn’t give you the life you deserved till those last two weeks happened and now whatever we just got is gone again and I-”, he sniffled, his voice thick with emotion as he shook his head and glanced at the bat, “I couldn’t give Lucille the life she deserved, I couldn’t even keep the world and that fucking cancer from hurting her and then-” Tears kept falling down his face as his eyes were hooked on your intertwined hands, sniffles falling from his lips as his grasp on your hand  got a little tighter. “And then when I fell in love with you I just-”, he winced, a shaking breath falling from his lips as he gulped thickly,”I vowed to myself to protect you and take care of you no matter the fucking cost. I just wanted to finally make things right and instead I fucked everything up all over again.” You only shook your head, unable to say something as a thick lump started to grow in your throat again and you could feel yourself hurting just listening to him. You’ve had these type of conversations before but this time, with these circumstances it just hurt so much more to see him beating himself up. “All I want is give you that damn apple pie life. In that house, with movies every damn night, with dinners together, and someday with kids that can run through that house and play in that backyard and drive us crazy...and it fucking destroys me that I can’t..that I’m the fucking reason you can’t have that.” “That’s not true”, you shook your head as you felt the first tears roll down your cheeks, “We can have that and we will, also because you ripped your ass off for it. You’ve always bent over backwards to make me happy.” A shivering breath fell from your lips as you moved in closer, trying to ensure that he was looking at you as you reached out for him and cupped his face softly with your free hand. “Just because things didn’t always work out the way we wanted them to doesn’t mean that you made me any less happy and I don’t ever want you to think again that you failed at that...You’ve been the best husband I could ever wish for. I need you to finally believe me when I say that”, you choked out, sniffling as you gave his hand a soft squeeze,”Just as much as I need you to finally believe the things Lucille said to you. She told you you made up, you made sure to make her last months as peaceful and happy as you could within this hell of a world...so you don’t deserve to keep on beating yourself up about it.” Negan choked up as you referred back to the things he’d once told you, still holding on to you as you looked with tearful eyes at him. “I just need you to realize that as long as I got you I’m happy, no matter where we are, no fucking matter if it’s in a cell or a nice home.” You made sure to keep his glance, trying to make sure that your message reached him before your thumb swiped softly over his skin while you tried to swallow down the bigger lump that was growing in your throat again. “I’m so proud of you...I’m so damn proud of the man you’ve been for me for all these years”, you said, smiling through the tears at him as another sniffle fell from your lips and your eyes glimpsed at the bat for a short moment,”And I know she’d be too.” Tears glistened in Negan’s eyes as a shivering hum rumbled up his chest and he grasped your hand tighter, just as you kept on fighting against that lump in your throat to bring out the last thing you needed him to hear. “So we will take your things first thing in the morning and walk back to Alexandria and settle back down into that home where we two belong”, you said your trembling voice almost breaking off as you leaned in closer to him,”No one is going to take that away from us again. Not Carol, not Maggie, not anybody.” Slowly, Negan started to nod, reaching up to take your hand from his cheek to press a kiss over its back while your eyes fell on the bat that still leaned against the wall. “We can take her with us, y’know? Find a nice place in the house”, you said with a sniffle, only to slowly see Negan starting to shake his head. “I think...I think I need to say goodbye”, he mumbled, gulping thickly as his eyes roamed over the broken bat before they fell back on you,”She wanted me to move on without her and do her fighting for her...so I’m finally gonna do that...I’m gonna burn her and then..fuck then we’ll walk home and I’ll keep on fighting for our future. I think she’d want that too.” Slowly, you started to nod and felt Negan press another kiss over the back of your hand, still holding onto you, still shivering as he stared at the bat while it started to dim on you that this was something he had to do alone. He had to say goodbye on his own. So slowly, you moved up from your spot on the stool, loosened your grasp on his hand and instead leaned down to press a kiss onto his forehead while our hand caressed softly over the side of his face. “Just call for me when you need me back in here”, you mumbled as Negan visibly got tense  before he started to nod, but still kept a hold on you for another moment, as if he needed your closeness a little longer to prepare himself.  As soon as his grasp loosened and you knew he was ready you quietly moved out of the house and let yourself fall onto the porch’s stairs, where you soon heard Negan’s voice rumble through the air, still filled heavily with emotions but firm enough to not break as he spoke up. “I’m sorry that I left you...I was a coward. I couldn’t face the pain of losing you so I ran away...and then I made myself not feel anything because I didn’t want to feel the shame...I’m sorry that you went out like that, I should have been there. I’m sorry that I named a stupid baseball bat after you...and I’m sorry for the all pain I put you through...I still miss you”, you heard his voice say, so clear that you could hear him forcing himself to keep going even though he could barely hold himself back, so filled with emotion and pain that it broke your heart all over again. “I promise, I’m gonna do your fighting for you”, you heard him say,  breaking at the end before the sound of rustling wood could be heard and you knew that he’d laid her into the flames. Only seconds passed until you heard him calling your name, the same shivering tone stuck in it  as you hurried back into the cabin and watched him standing by the fireplace, with tears in his eyes while Lucille laid within the flames that slowly ate away at her wood.  He was gulping heavily, new tears already falling from his eyes as you moved in to hug him tightly and felt him wrapping his arms back around you within mere milliseconds. “I love you, so much”, he mumbled into your hair, cradling you against his body while sniffles fell from his lips and trembles still shook through him.  “I love you too”, you mumbled back, cuddling against him as he held tightly onto you and didn’t dare to loosen his embrace just once before another sniffling sigh fell from his lips. “I hope Lucille’s up there in heaven and has found someone who makes her just as happy as you make me”, Negan mumbled shakily into your hair, cradling you closer as you nodded softly against him, so touched all over again that you felt new tears welling up into your eyes. “I’m sure she has”, you mumbled, only able to bring these few words out before your throat tightened and made you voice break off again while Negan rocked you gently in his arms, keeping you safely locked in his embrace until the world finally started to feel at peace around you.  Tomorrow would be a new day. Tomorrow would be the start of a new life as soon as you’d walk through Alexandria’s gates, defying any of Carol’s plans, defying anyone that still doubted you, defying your past to pave your way to the future that you both wanted. You would keep on fighting for it, side by side like it you’d always done, and how it would always be.  You and him, an unbeatable team.