#You have a lot to learn y'hear me?
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Sit down you petty possessive amateur boyslut
#I don't remember ever claimed you as my love interest even at second seat#You have a lot to learn y'hear me?#I HAVE TIME TO DRAW AGAIN!!#also Syd must be the most jealous possessive LI to me Ig#mf has breeding kink#hoo boi#dol pc#sydney the fallen#dol sydney#degree of lewdity#degrees of lewdity#dollya art
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Harley D. Dixon 5
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📖Chapter List.
Author's Note. This is our CDC chapter, so TW for mention of suicide in this one. It's a little graphic.
And it might be better to go in blind, but if you'd like the second TW, please check the first tag on this post.
Other than that, please enjoy reading!
Glenn exhales, "Would you look at that?"
The sun is rising.
Last night I was a dying dog and today I am Harley Dixon.
Me, Dad and Glenn are on the roof of the parked RV, watching the sky give birth to the sun, knowing that I got hundreds more sunrises waiting for me; that the worst is over, like Rick said. The morning is as fresh as peeled summer fruit, and it's all ours. I'm reminded of special breakfasts on our old porch, where my Uncle Merle and my Dad would be scooping burnt scrambled eggs into their mouths, and I'd be in Dad's lap, sipping on a box of orange juice. We had them whenever I won an award at school. I feel like I've won every award in the world.
Glenn is the one sitting next to us, now, in this new version of day-break. He fills the outline of where a ghost of a brother and an Uncle used to be. We're sharing a secret bag of old freeze-dried cherries, while everyone else sleeps. They're a small luxury, like the sun. We can make happiness out of anything.
It all feels right.
"One hundred percent mold free, this time. I swear," Glenn says, ripping the bag open and pouring me the first cherries.
"They better be," Dad jokes. "First time was free."
"Next time, you'll beat my ass?" Glenn guesses.
He looks like he's realizing his legacy is always gonna be the guy who can't make jerky.
"Damn straight."
We knock our plastic bowls together, smiling.
"To Harley."
"To Harley."
"To me!"
"What a mess this whole thing was." Glenn shakes his head, chewing. "I know I already said it, but... I'm really sorry."
"Ain't your fault you can't cook." I giggle.
"Gee, thanks." He laughs. "I guess I deserve that."
"Just learn to salt the damn meat, China." Dad says. "Then we can talk."
"Okay, okay, okay." Glenn puts his hands up, but he's still grinning. "I suck at cooking. I get it. Are Dixons always this mean?"
Me and my Daddy answer, yes, at the same time.
"Good to know." Mumbles Glenn.
"The night I got scratched," I muse, my fingers painted with crayon-red cherry juice. "You was the first person after my Dad to reach the tent."
I remember people saying that Glenn could outrun a cheetah if there were enough supplies behind the finish line. The thought makes me laugh again. When you ain't big, you gotta find other ways to elbow your way through danger. Sometimes a good brain and better legs are all you need. Sometimes people like me and Glenn get to win, too.
"I guess so." Glenn's smiling shyly. "But only because Rick was too busy reloading. And Shane was up the back. And, well, I guess— When we first got back to camp, people were saying that you were gone. That you were missing, or dead, or— We didn't know. Your Dad, he just took off into the woods. Just, vroom, y'know? Like, gone. I thought if I was gonna be like anyone, it should be him. So, I went running, too."
Dad leans over and grips Glenn's shoulder; shakes it. A gesture that says, Man to man, I respect you. Maybe even, Brother to brother.
It takes a lot to earn my Dad's respect, if you ain't his blood.
"You all looked like you was boutta faint." I snicker, 'cause it's funny now.
"W-we all thought it was too late." Glenn tries to laugh. It's been hard, I guess, bottling up that night until now. "When we first saw the tent."
I see flashes of wet eyes, and teeth, and spiders.
"I did too," I confess.
My Dad turns me around in his lap, then, and bounces his knee a little. "But I woulda never let that happen, chicken, y'hear? And I ain't never gonna let that happen. I'd have to be dead, 'fore a walker laid his hands on you." He frowns, looking me dead in the eye.
"I hear." I nod. "It was just really scary."
"C'mere, babe."
He pulls me down to his chest — his heart — and I curl up there, where I know nothin' will ever get me.
"For the record, I was about to faint." Glenn mutters.
I throw a cherry at him and he dodges it, grinning.
"I knew it!"
We all sit like this for a long while, with the sun and the rustling wheat as our friends, snacking on our sour fruit. Then they start talking again, a notch deeper, a notch outta my league. Adult to adult. I realize they must think I'm asleep — It is the ass-crack of dawn, after all — so I don't interrupt.
"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Glenn tells my Dad. "You can protect your own. I get that."
"Don't tell me what I already know, kid."
"I just..." Glenn starts, but then there's nothing.
In this long moment, I think Glenn is going to leave down the ladder, 'cause it's what anyone else would do.
People like me and my Dad — People who hoard supermarket coupons, and talk real nasty, and get called hillbillies — don't mix well with people like Glenn. People pretend there isn't, but there's an invisible cut-off on who deserves what in life, and it ends right after people who only gotta work one job. Glenn's smart, and he prolly ain't never had to go hungry to pay his water bills, not once in his life. He prolly ain't never been to jail, or snapped a squirrel's neck, or re-used the same bottle of hand soap forty times over. He's like the rest of 'em. Rick and Lori. Shane. The kids in my old classes. Their parents on parent-night. We can work well together but anything else is askin' too much.
But we're family now, right? I think Glenn might leave, but—
"Well, for what it's worth, I couldn't do it." Is all Glenn says.
He doesn't leave. In fact, I hear him settling further into his chair. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.
My Dad pauses. "Do what?"
"Look over my shoulder all the time. Worry about someone else every time I hear a gunshot. Walk around knowing I have that much to lose." Glenn sounds lost in thought, but then he surfaces. He ends his list with a simple, "Be a parent."
My Dad sighs, debating whether or not to go along with this.
"That ain't all there is to it." He eventually says.
"No?"
"Nah. It ain't some curse." Dad says. "I hear a gunshot? Sure, first thing I'm thinkin' 'bout is Harley. But that's the way it's meant to be."
"I just don't think I'd be able to handle it." I imagine Glenn gazing out at the sky. "These past few days have been stressful enough."
"Yeah, well that's why I got a kid 'n you don't." Dad's being a bit of a smart-ass. Then, he answers seriously. "You got a kid? You gotta be ready to die for 'em. But it ain't just sittin' around, waitin' to do it. It's the opposite. Every day I wake up, and I do it for her. I do everythin' I do for her. After that baby's born, who you were, what you liked doin', any plans you had — That's over. Suddenly, yer life ain't the most important thing you got, no more."
I've never heard my Dad talk like this. I wish our lives were worth the same, but I guess it don't work that way.
"And who were you?" Glenn asks, knocking back a cherry. "Before Harley?"
"A nobody. Drunk bastard with drunk-bastard friends." Dad scoffs.
"Well... That's good, then?" Glenn's guessing. "Sounds like she changed you for the better, man."
I can't imagine my Dad being anybody other than my Dad. The day I came into the world, so did he. There's nothin' before that.
"It's hard." Dad admits, prolly for the first time ever, to Glenn. "I love 'er, but it's hard as shit. Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out."
"You must have been going crazy during... everything."
"Oh, you think?" Dad jokes. "You ain't seen me fuck up that walkie?"
Glenn bursts out laughing. "It hit the RV when you threw it out the window. Scared the shit out of Dale."
I have to try really hard not to laugh. I'm meant to be pretend-asleep!
"You got any nieces, or anythin'?" Dad asks.
"No." Glenn answers. "My sisters were either too interested in their careers to have kids, or... Too young."
Glenn's sisters aren't here. Blood does everything it can to stay together. Dad taught me that. That means his sisters are both young and dead.
"That's gotta be tough, man." Dad sighs.
"No, it's alright. Sometimes I can pretend they're out there, together. Happy." He pauses. "What about you? Nieces? Nephews?"
Dad actually laughs a little. "Fuck no. Not from my side, at least. Guy like my brother ain't meant to spread his seed around. Ain't right."
Glenn starts laughing, too. "I guess not."
"Nah, Harley's my only girl." My Dad says. I feel him start playing with the end of my ponytail.
"You know, when you first showed up in camp, I thought she was Merle's." Glenn says, then quickly, "No offence."
"No shit?" Dad scoffs.
"No shit. I thought you looked too young to have a kid."
An unspoken joke makes them both laugh all over again.
"Yeah, well, I was real busy in my teen years."
I got no idea what that means, but it must be funny. Their conversation tapers from chuckling into a warm silence, and then it's just us and the sun again. It clips over a candy-colored cloud, and I can hear car doors opening and shutting, and loud yawns from down below. We're gonna be on the road again soon. I might not need a cure anymore, but we still need water, food, and walls, and the CDC's got it all. I hear someone shouting, alright, people, time to start heading out, and then a whole bunch of shuffling. The day isn't just ours, anymore.
My Dad stretches, groaning, and I pretend to be woken up by it.
He pinches my cheek. "Look who's here."
"Hey, Harley." Glenn smiles, packing up. "You enjoy the cherries?"
"Uh-huh," I smile back. "Thank you."
"No problem." He says. "There's actually some left over, if you want it."
He holds out the bag while I dig my hand into it.
I think it's funny how me, the man who made me, and the man who almost killed me are all friends, now. I learnt in science class that the more pressure you put on a rock, the more compact the molecules get. I think we're the molecules. It's bittersweet.
"Not too many." Dad warns. "You're still sick, remember? Don't want you messin' up my truck again."
"I remember," I promise, shoving a handful of cherries into my mouth. I also remember him sayin' he don't give a damn 'bout the truck.
Someone shouts out the radio channel again.
"Time to see this thing through, then." Rallies Glenn, but he looks nervous.
We say goodbye to the sunrise.
"Dad, is that—?"
"That's the CDC, alright."
We reach it by early morning. It's a monster of a building. It's like a big, white buoy in the middle of the ocean, saying, Come here, I'll keep you afloat. We ease to a stop and then we just look at it, 'cause it's all we can do. The CDC, right before our eyes. It's really there.
"It's bigger than I thought." I think aloud.
Dad just grunts, wary. "Stay close to me."
Our new walkie chimes, and Rick speaks to everyone when he says, "This is it, people. Leave your things. We're gonna walk up."
Why does the air feel so cold?
My Dad pulls both me and his crossbow out the truck, and then the whole group — one tired, beaten, hopeful force — are slowly making our way to the building. We walk through a silent field. I wish it could speak to us; tell us what it's been through.
We pass torn bags of sand and littered bullet shells. I think there's something here that we're not seeing, not yet, like a sleeping beast at the back of a cave, and when we find it, we're gonna be sorry we ever looked. We weave through big, black piles of clothes. The clothes are full, I realize. Full of hands, and legs; all white, all dead. They're bodies. They still have their human faces; they're still them, just dead, and they're studded with the bullets that the shells came from. The story tells itself, on behalf of the ghosts. They give their blood back to mother nature, dripping into the grass. I gasp. From head to toe, I go cold. My Dad shields my face, but I've already seen 'em. They're already nightmares.
Rick leads us. He leads us past trucks and barriers and blockades. Every sign the universe gives him to turn back, he ploughs through, chin up.
Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Maybe he was designed to be both. Maybe we're walking to our deaths.
Nobody speaks. If they do, the bodies might wake up, and the graveyard we're intruding on will realize it doesn't want us here.
A crow squawks from its post on a dead soldier's helmet. If I spoke bird, I'd hear, Turn back.
We have to do this. It's what everyone's thinking, as they manage one foot in front of the other. Just one more step, and after that, just one more step. I take in the group, 'cause they ain't dead, and it's a little less awful to look at.
Morales, rifle up. Eliza, Louis and Sophia, three baby ducklings under their Mommas' shaking wings. Dale and Shane, polar opposites but in this moment, exactly the same; with their steely gaze and steady hands. Jacqui and Andrea, holding hands; two girls in women's bodies, walking through a world that wants to eat them. I catch Carl's eye. He catches mine, over the violence spread out before us. I watch him send me a thumbs up, which does nothing but turn me colder — colder than ice, colder than I've ever been — before my view is blocked for a second time, by Glenn. I'm sandwiched in; hidden, protected. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope I'll get to open them again. My Dad leads me by the shirt over the grass. I trust him.
My shoes hit something tougher, louder — Cement. Rock? Our footsteps echo, now. Are we really in a cave?
It goes double-dark, through my eyelids. Please don't leave us, I beg the sun nicely, We need you.
I squeeze my Dad's hand. He squeezes back.
Then I hear a rumble, like thunder, and I peek out from behind my Dad. It's Rick, banging on roller shutters. We all clench closer together, a fist ready to fight. Nobody does it on purpose, but me and all the other kids are pushed toward the middle. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Rick goes from one door to another to another, until he's shook down the entire row.
Guns are raised. We step back, together.
It's like knockin' on doors on Halloween. We don't know what creature's gonna answer. Maybe nobody.
"Anybody home?" Glenn mutters.
We stretch our silence for as long as we can stand it. There is no answer.
Newly determined, or maybe offended, or scared, or maybe all three, Rick beats down all the doors again like he hates 'em.
"Hey!" He calls out. "Whoever's in there, open up!"
"Nobody's here, man!" T-Dog shakes his head, but he ain't got no proof.
"Then tell me why you think all the damn shutters are down?" Rick snarls, and it's like we're in the parking lot again, and I'm scared.
And I should be.
"Walkers incoming!" Shane shouts.
Suddenly, my Dad and Glenn are whirling the other way, facing our new enemy. I grab onto the back of Dad's belt, and when I peer out between their elbows, I see one, two, six, twelve dead bodies lumbering to their feet, all dressed in military green, and dented helmets, and layers and layers of crusty black blood and loose skin. The other kids start to cry, but not me. I can't cry, 'cause I can't breathe. I hear a slicing fwip, and then one of the dead soldiers drop to the ground like the only thing holding him up were strings. An arrow marks his second deathbed.
"We can't fuckin' stay here, Rick!" My Dad's yelling. "You led us into a death-trap!"
I'm grabbing onto the back of Glenn's shirt, now, 'cause my Dad's stomping off to confront Rick and Shane. I hide my nose in my knuckles. Death-trap, I'm panicking, Death-trap. A week ago, I'd be standing here alone, but I got Glenn now. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I got Glenn.
"Glenn, I'm scared." I whine to him, and there it is, I'm crying. I think of happier things, like cherries and the sun.
"I— I know." Glenn puffs, 'cause he's scared, too. "I know."
He lets me grab his hand. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.
"Death trap or not, we're here for a reason!" Dale's arguing. "Rick made a call! We all did!"
"You want us to phase through the fuckin' doors, old man?" Dad spits. "We're stuck out here! My daughter's stuck out here!"
"Running out of time here, guys!" Jacqui's worrying.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Are those gunshots, now? Bullets are last resorts. Last resorts are only for when you're gonna die. Are we gonna—?
"Are we gonna die, Glenn?"
"No." He hurries to answer, gripping me tighter. "N—No."
"We need to leave!" A woman — Carol? — cries.
"She's right." Lori. That's Lori. "This close to the city? It's too dangerous!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Fort Benning." Shane looks like he's 'bout ready to bolt, bouncin' from foot to foot. A trapped animal. "We can do it. It's still an option, Rick."
"Is it?" Glenn's shouting. "It's a hundred twenty-five miles away!"
"No fuel? Two sick kids?" Morales is shakin' his head, no, no, no. "It's impossible!"
What do we do? No, no, no. We can't leave, but no, no, no, we can't stay, neither.
"What do you wanna do, then?" Shane argues back. "What you wanna do?"
"That's it! We're done here!"
My Dad shuts the whole thing down with one angry shout, locking his hand around my wrist. He tugs me away, and for a moment, the group is tugging itself along behind us, back to the street and the cars. We're a unit again — in the wind, goin' anywhere; scared, flimsy. We take one step, and then two, and we make it all the way back to the grass, before—
"Wait!"
It's Rick.
He ain't budged. Brave or stupid? Is he nuts?
"The camera." He tells us, breathless. "It moved."
All three.
"You imagined it." Dale decides, 'cause he'll say anything to get Rick to move. "How could it have moved?"
It's a lost cause — a last-ditch attempt.
The arguing re-ignites. I hide myself again, 'cause I'd rather be anywhere else.
Rick's shouting that he saw it, he saw the camera move, and his voice hits the concrete and closes in on us, just like the field. Fwip. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each burst of noise is a ticking hand on a dyin' clock. The bodies are picking themselves up faster than we're dropping 'em. Glenn's got a knife out, now, and Shane's pleading with Rick, who's gone nuts, Man, listen, the place is gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Fwip. Bang. Crying; shrieking, from me, from the other kids, from Lori, and Jacqui, and the air as it's cut in half by bullet after bullet after bullet. Please, we have two sick kids out here, someone's begging.
"You're killing us!" Rick tells the camera. "You're killing us!"
My Dad fists the back of my shirt and he's pullin' me away, stronger than before. I think he's saying, Fuck it, we can make it on our own; leave the bastard. This must really be rock bottom. We were on our own for weeks. He must be thinking that we can do it again. I can see Glenn struggling to decide whether he should stay with the group or follow his feet, which are already trying to run after me and my Dad. I see Jacqui doin' it, too, and then Andrea, and then Carol.
A body topples over in our path, arrow up its nose. This is chaos.
Cherries and sunlight. Cherries and sunlight.
Then—
Behind us.
A gentle rumble, rumble.
We all whip around.
The doors — They're opening. They really are.
Even Rick looks like he can't believe it. We watch them open, mouths agape, like a bunch of idiots — A portal, to another world.
At first, we think there's a catch. Nothing comes without a catch. Do we go in?
But then there's another bang, and we're reminded that we're as good as dead if we stay out here any longer. We're on the move again, but this time, we're walking into the big, white mouth of the big, white monster, praying, Please don't be worse than it is out here, please don't make us regret this. We stay close together as the doors roll back down, sealing us in. We can breathe again, but only slightly. Would I rather take my chances with the dead soldiers, or with the unknown? I'm not sure. Now it's really happening, I don't think any of us are.
"Electricity." Jacqui whispers in cautious wonder. Electricity is like a myth.
Rick nods toward an archway. "Let's keep moving."
We trickle into the belly of the beast — Down a hallway, and into a lobby with the tallest damn ceiling I ever saw. Papers are thrown all over the floor and the computers at the reception desk are all upturned, but it's pin-drop silent. It's like being in a museum for an old extinction event.
"Hello?" Rick calls out, and if there's a scary creature in here, I sure hope it eats him first. "Who's in here? Who opened the doors?"
The silence answers.
"I did."
I jump outta my skin. Dad gets himself in front of me, but I peek around his waist. There's a man at the top of the stairs. He looks like he's been here for a long, long time. Like those lonely boys in Lord of the Flies, where they'd been on an island for so long that they started going a little crazy. He's wearing a regular t-shirt. I wonder where his lab coat is, if he's a scientist. This is a building for scientists.
"What did you mean by 'sick'?" The lonely-crazy-man calls down to us. "You said you had two sick kids. Is anybody infected?"
The whole group hardens at this question. They all glance back at me. I can see our journey in their eyes.
Rick's smiling, and this time, it looks right.
"You don't know the half of it." He turns back around, chin up, like always. "No. Nobody's infected. Thank God."
Dad puts a hand my shoulder.
The scientist doesn't share the same enthusiasm.
"I'm not sure He's around, anymore." He muses, vaguely sad. Then, "Why are you here? What do you want?"
I've never been good at words, but Rick is, 'cause he comes up with the perfect answer. One he knows we'd all agree on.
"A chance."
And maybe some water. After all we been through, that can't be too much to ask. We must look like a pathetic, begging mess, 'cause that's what we are. I know I am. My hair's made outta knots and grease, just like Lori and Andrea's. We're covered in beatings from the road, like bruises from Jim's fists and eyebags from sleepless nights. We left our quarry for this. We left our fish, and our tyre swing, and we left Jim. This can't be for nothing.
The man, who stands high above us, a judging eye, takes us in. "That's asking an awful lot, these days."
All Rick can say is, "I know," and pray it works.
I think of wet eyes, teeth, and spiders while we wait for his decision.
"You'll submit to a blood test." The scientist tells us. "That's the price of admission."
A breath leaves us all.
"We can—" Rick's nodding. "We can manage that."
That's it? A blood test?
I find myself grinning, and I tug on my Dad's hand. We look at each other. He's smiling, too, just a little. We all are. The scientist doesn't know it, but he's just saved our lives. We're tired and we're dirty and we've been through Hell these past couple days, but a blood test — We can manage that. We can manage anything.
"I left one door open. If you have stuff to bring in, do it now." He says, from his perch. "Once these doors shut, they don't open."
We tell him we understand.
This place is like a magical castle.
After we give up our blood, the scientist takes us on a tour.
Jacqui was right. We got electricity. But apparently, we also got hot water.
If electricity's a myth, then hot water is a damn hoax. I can't wait to have a shower tonight. I used to hate showers, but that's just one of them things now that I can't believe I ever hated, like spinach. I been so hungry before that I'd dream about spinach. Glenn and Lori groan like they've bitten into a big, juicy steak when they hear 'bout the showers, and we all laugh. When I ask him, the scientist says that he isn't wearing his lab coat because he only wears it to make himself look cool. He says that now that we're here, he'll have to put it back on. It makes me giggle.
I run ahead with the other kids, and we all reach a long line of doors, where the scientist says we'll be staying.
The tour is complete!
We all pick rooms to stay in and then we unpack, like we're in a hotel, and it's exciting. None of us have been to a hotel in years.
"Hey, Harley!" Sophia pops her head out the next room over, holding a bar of soap. "Look! Soap!"
I hold out mine. "I got one, too!"
Behind Sophia, Carl pops his head out. "Me too!"
And behind him, like two little owls, Eliza and Louis appear. "Us, too!"
We dash back into our rooms. Me and my Dad's room got two double beds, and I ain't never had a double bed before, so I climb on it, and I jump up and down to test it out. It don't even squeak or nothin'. Dad watches me from where he's emptying one of our back packs.
As I try touch the ceiling, I tell him, "This place is awesome!"
"Harley, come down from there 'fore you crack yer head open." He orders, like a party-pooper.
I do what he says, 'cause I don't wanna ruin the day by getting spanked. "I'm gonna have a real-life shower."
"That's right." He shakes out the yellow shirt with the dinosaurs on it. He chucks it at my head, smirking. "Get ready, then."
I grab the brush that Sophia's letting me use first and a pair of purple pyjama pants from my Dad. I take myself into the bathroom. At first, the water's like straight lava on my skin, and I yelp. Dad asks if I'm alright, and then he comes in to fix the water for me. The lava settles back down, and I scrub and wash and sud myself up until I'm almost as red as a lobster. It's the best shower I've ever had. I was getting so sick of using baby wipes and river water to wash myself. When I step out of the real-life shower, the whole room is steamed up. I draw a smiley face into the mirror just 'cause I can, and then I brush out all my hair. I smell like strawberries. I dress in my cozy pyjamas and socks.
When I come out, my Dad re-does my buttons, 'cause apparently I did 'em all wrong. I stand between his knees while he re-orders 'em.
"He said there's a games room here." I smile.
"Maybe you can scope it out after dinner." Dad says. "You gotta be hungry by now, right?"
"Oh, I forgot 'bout dinner!" There's just too many wonders to keep track of in this place! "We gotta hurry!"
My Dad loops the last button.
"Come on, come on, come on!" I nag, pulling him off the bed and out the door.
"Damn." He chuckles. "People are gonna start thinkin' I ain't feedin' you."
"I bet there's gonna be steak!"
This is the best day ever.
We reach the CDC's little cafeteria, which is in total darkness to save energy, except for a spotlight above the biggest table. Makes it feel even more special. I hear clinking forks and plates, and I think these are the two happiest days I've ever had. Me and Dad take seats next to Carol and Sophia. As potato salad — Yes, potato salad. That's almost as good as soap — and greens and meat get passed around, I'm reminded of our fish fry. My Dad is here with me to enjoy it this time, and there are walls to protect us, instead of trees. We're clean. We're safe. We're alive.
"Just tell me when." Carol tells T-Dog as she pours him some wine, while everyone is getting settled in at the table.
Carol pours for a long time and T-Dog does not say when.
People start laughing.
T-Dog gives in and goes, "Okay, when, when, when."
"Thought I was gonna be there all night." Carol scoff-chuckles, sitting back down.
When I look around, I see one big family having dinner together, and I see people I'd almost forgotten about under all that dirt.
"Hey, after the past few days we've had, I think we deserve it." Rick's smiling, holding up his hands.
"I'll say." Lori snickers.
Dale suddenly stands, glass in hand. "How about we dedicate this meal to Harley?"
Rick puts down his napkin. "I think that's a perfect idea."
I giggle under all the attention as everyone rushes to agree, finding their glasses. I hide my face behind my Dad's arm. He peels himself away, smirking, and everyone's got something to say about my red face when I'm no longer hidden. I smack Carl when he tells me I look like a tomato, and everyone's doubled over with laughter, again. It's my favorite sound ever, I decide.
Before we can toast, my Dad butts in.
"Hang on. Old man, how's about that watch you carry around?" He asks. "It got a date on it?"
"I wish," Dale smiles, "But the battery died yesterday. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"
"I reckon it's almost July, right?" Dad looks around.
Is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say?
I start grinning.
Rick nods, "I reckon so. It's probably been about a month since everything went down."
"Harley was born in July. Twenty-second. Eight years ago. Ain't that right?" Dad ruffles my hair, and I giggle, 'cause I'm just so full of happiness that I feel like I'll never be anything else again. He raises his glass; wraps a hand around my shoulders. "Close enough, am I right?"
"Absolutely, that's close enough!" Lori shouts, clapping her hands; rushing for her glass. "My God, this is perfect!"
"We got ourselves a birthday dinner, here, people!" T-Dog whoops, raising his, too.
Rick lifts his glass above his head, and it's official. "To the birthday girl!"
"To the birthday girl!"
Clink, clink, clink.
More cheering. Two toasts in one day. I must be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world. I bump my glass of water into Dad's glass on my right, and Sophia's on my left. After the scare with the scratches, this celebration means ten times more than a regular birthday would. There's no cake here, or number-candles, but I don't need any of that to make this moment special. I got Glenn singing an off-key Happy Birthday, and I got Jacqui giggling, God, shut that boy up, and I got Sophia hugging me, and I got another year and a whole lotta more days I get to live, with everyone at this table; with my Dad. And when Rick leans over the table, I even let him give me a high-five!
"Eight." Rick raises his eyebrows at me while he sits back down, pointing at me. "Almost double digits."
"You're almost my age!" Grins Carl.
"Good luck." Lori dramatically whispers to my Dad.
He gives me a look. "Listen to me, you ain't allowed to grow any more after this, okay?"
I can't help if I grow!
"Okay, Dad." I laugh. "I promise to be eight forever."
"Good girl." He says, gulping down more wine.
"Hold up." T-Dog sticks his palm out. "This is a birthday party. You know what that means, right? We need to hear at least one embarrassing story."
"Good idea." Jacqui gasps.
Dad makes a big show of scoffing. "Damn, which one you want? I got thousands."
What a traitor!
"I mean, we have all night, here." Shane shrugs, grinning like a little smart-ass. "I'm up for a story-time. How 'bout y'all?"
"Let's hear it," Morales gestures at my Dad.
"Alright." Dad sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I try leaning over to cover his mouth, but he bats me away, and everyone is already laughing and the story ain't even started yet. "How 'bout— Okay. Okay. Damn, this is a good one. 'Bout when she was five, we bought Harley this skateboard—" Everybody's going, Oh God, 'cause they see where this is going. "Uh-huh. We took 'er down to the skatepark near our house, and there was a bunch of other lil' kids there — 'bout her age — and I'on know how she did it, but these kids were all convinced she was this master skater who was gonna show 'em how it's done. She was coachin' 'em, I think. Showin' off her new board. End of the day, she finally goes to show 'em a trick — 'Member, first day at this damn park — and everyone's watching and—" He claps his hands, smack. "Falls flat on 'er fuckin' face, in front of all of 'em."
Ugh, why'd he have to go and tell that story?
Rick covers his mouth 'cause he's trying not to laugh, 'cause I guess he values whatever dignity I got left but Shane, he's clappin' and trying not to spit his food out, 'cause he's actually a big smart-ass. I'm laughing behind my hands, like Sophia. Glenn's resting his forehead on the table, and he's shakin', so I guess he's laughing, too. When he sits upright, he's crying, and Jacqui's gotta beat his back 'cause he's choking a little bit.
"I'm alri—" He coughs. Then he keeps laughin', which makes it worse. "I'm alright."
"Hey, I ain't even fall that bad!" I defend myself.
He chugs Jacqui's water to save himself.
"Wait—" Lori's chuckling. "Five years old?"
"Yep," Dad goes back to eating. He's satisfied with the damage he's done.
"Pretty brave for that age." Lori tells me, putting on an I'm impressed face.
"Damn, that's pretty bad." T-Dog's shaking his head. "Sorry, girl, but I'm glad I asked, 'cause shit!"
"Leave the poor girl alone." Carol giggles, quietly.
Shane looks off into the darkness, pretending there's a crowd. "Anybody got a skateboard?"
"Oh, shut up." Andrea smiles. "Settle down, or Lori's gonna have to pull that photo out."
"May I ask a question?"
We're all so isolated in this pocket of happiness, celebrating the end of our troubles, that when the scientist speaks, I think we're all a little spooked. Smiles freeze and fade. Glasses lower. Heads turn. We're not the only people in the world, we're all realizing. We'd forgotten all about the reason we came here. That's what potato salad does to people, I guess.
The conversation dies off like a guillotine sliced it in half.
"What were you going to toast to?" The scientist asks, and his voice is like a soft, chilly breeze in a forest. I'm not even sure he was sitting there the whole time. Maybe he's supernatural, and he teleported. That makes me scared. "Before you figured out it was her birthday?"
And just like that, the dinner turns awkward.
Rick clears his throat. "Well, if I'm being completely honest, here, Harley is the reason we came out to the city in the first place. I know I told you that nobody here was infected, but there were a couple days where... we weren't sure. Harley got scratched. We left looking for a cure."
The scientist's eyes roam over to my face, but then they don't leave.
"Now we're on the subject," Shane decides to break the silence, frowning, "How about you tell us what exactly happened here, doc?"
Rick mutters, "We don't have to do this right now, Shane."
"Wait a second." Shane sighs. "You said it yourself, just now. This is why we came all the way out here, right? Figure out what happened? Put all our eggs in one basket, and uh—" He laughs a laugh that tells me nothing is funny here. "Instead we found him. We found one man, talking in riddles. Why is that, you think?"
The scientist tanks the insult. "When things got bad, people just... left, to be with their families. The rest bolted."
I remember just how shocked I was at the size of this building when I first saw it creeping up the windows. It's way too much space for one man. There must have been hundreds of scientists working in here, and now it's just a shell. A cave for a lonely monster.
"Every last one?" Shane whispers, squinting; disbelieving.
The scientist falters, for just a moment, and I can see old pains on his face. "No. Some couldn't face leaving. They... opted out."
The tables goes from quiet to silent. Opted out. I know what that means. It's another one of them things adults say to butter up the truth, and it means killing yourself. I squeak, then, like I've been kicked in the ribs. I hide behind my Dad, who cradles the back of my damp hair, but you can't hide from words once they're in your head. Suicide. Dead, but not an accident — On purpose, with pills, or a gun, or a— a— a bridge. Something snotty gets caught in my throat like a fish-hook, and I'm crying now, at my own birthday dinner. Somebody drops their fork in defeat.
"There was a rash of suicides." Mutters the scientist, immune to his own story; numb. "In a matter of days, I was alone."
"Why didn't you leave?" Asks Andrea.
Carl is crying too, now. I wish I could make him feel better, just for a moment, but I can't.
"I just kept working." Smiles the scientist, but it's not right— It's just muscles, pulling his droopy face upward. "I just wanted to do some good."
Good.
The word reaches up into the ceiling, and leaves us at the bottom, sitting in its echo.
"There is no cure here." The scientist says.
The dinner is over.
Everything comes crashing down as fast as it went flying up.
We were on top of the world just a few hours ago. We were invincible. We had the news that I wasn't going to die in our veins, and then we had hot water and soap and potato salad, and each other. We had hotel rooms and a birthday dinner. But now we just have a dead end and a long list of regrets. There is nothing here for us besides showers, lights, and ghosts. I feel like a trapped animal. I'm a hamster in a maze, going around and around and around, and I can't get out. A rash of suicides. That thing I thought was hiding somewhere, it's this, and it's out, and I'm sorry we ever looked. Please don't let it be worse than it is out here, I remember, Please don't make us regret this.
After what feels like hours, the hallways I'm running down end. I see the game room.
I run inside and corner myself under the table. A cloth hides me from the world outside, and if I pretend hard enough, I can take myself right out of here and into a nice, safe pillow fort, instead. Like the ones I used to make back home. I can be someone else. If I'm in my head, I'm not here.
But then I hear the door open, and it's just a wooden table again, and I'm in the CDC.
"Harley?" It's my Dad, 'cause of course it is. I moan into my hands, crying so hard I'm not getting enough air. "You in here?"
I don't want to be found. I want to be lost.
The cloth lifts.
"Baby, what's wrong?" My Dad asks, but I know he already knows. How could he not know?
There are lots of words that remind me of my Momma, like sunshine, and cigarettes, and the worst — Suicide.
"Get out." I tell him, using my feet to push him away. "Get out."
I should've learnt my lesson back at the quarry, on that night I hit my Dad, but I don't care. I just wanna hurt something. I'm hurting. A rash of suicides. I can't stop hearing it, and I can't stop seeing it — Over and over again, the night on the bridge. Opted out. Suicide. Killing yourself.
Pills, guns, ropes.
Bridges.
"Baby, I know." Dad's saying, grabbing my kicking feet. "I know. Come out. I don't want you thinkin' 'bout this, so come on out."
"I can't help it!" I sob, 'cause I really can't. Something that is too big for my body is happening to me, and I can't stop it.
"H— I know. Just come out." He's begging, and now he's not just holding my feet, he's pulling 'em; pulling me, out from underneath my hidey hole and into the world, even though I want to stay in here forever. He's trying so hard to bury something that's still alive; something that has teeth and jaws, and is eating me from the inside out. He don't wanna see it, and he don't wanna hear it, and he don't wanna deal with it. I wish he'd curl up in my make-believe pillow fort, and hide from the world with me. I wish he'd understand. "You don't gotta be under there. Come out, right now."
Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out.
He's getting angry again. He's holding himself back from something very nasty that lives inside him.
"No," I'm begging him back; begging him to just listen. "No, I don't wanna come out. I don't wanna—!"
I anchor myself to the table leg. We're an unstoppable force and an immovable object, colliding head on for the first time, ever, and it's a disaster. That night at the quarry was nothing.
Furious, my Dad rips the cloth off the table and boxes of puzzles go toppling over onto the floor, breaking into a million little pieces that used to be happily fused. Newly exposed, he easily ducks under and locks his hand around my wrist. I scream, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see my Daddy like this, 'cause it ain't him anymore. He pries my little fingers off the table, one by one by one, and ow, ow, ow, it really hurts. I'm yanked away, and then he's dragging me out by the ankles, shouting—
"Stop actin' like this. You ain't a baby." I hook myself onto a second leg, and he's wrestling with me all over again. "Stop! Mind yer damn father, girl!"
I'm not a baby, but I wish I was, 'cause we were happy back then.
"Stop!" I sob, kicking at him. "J— Leav— Just leave me alone!"
"I ain't leavin' you alone — You know why?" He's seething down to me. "'Cause you need a damn spanking. That's why."
I think back to an hour ago, when I thought I'd only ever be happy for the rest of my life. What a stupid thing to think.
Don't make it any worse, his voice is warning me, from all the times he's done this before.
But it can't get any worse.
In one big pull of strength, I'm forced out from underneath the table once and for all, where I felt safe and small and alone, into the light of the game room where I feel naked, again, for all to see. My face is raw and wet and hurt, and I think one of my buttons got torn off by my Daddy when he was grabbing for me, even though he was the one to fix them before dinner, and on that night in the RV, to show me he loves me. He yanks me to my feet by the armpits, 'cause I can't stand on my own no more, and he crouches to get in my face.
"This is your last fuckin' chance, and then I'm gonna have to take my belt off." He warns me.
"I miss Momma." I whimper.
His face softens, but it's gone so quick I'm sure I imagined it. "Harley," He grinds out, "Stop this."
"You killed her!" I cry, scared, but braver than I ever been at the same time. "You made Momma kill 'erself! You made 'er jump off that bridge!"
I tried so hard to be like my Daddy, but I can't. I can't hide things like he can.
I don't care if he belts me after. I just want him to know. I want him to know that I know, and that I ain't never gonna forgive him. I'd take a thousand beatings just so I could scream the same thing up at him, until my throat bleeds, until I'm nothin' but a voice, until my Momma comes back. People who kill themselves don't wanna come back, but maybe this time, if I was a good enough girl, she might want to. I'd get on my knees, and I'd beg her, and I'd say, Please Momma, I need you. Please Momma, please. Me and Daddy can't do it on our own. She didn't love my Daddy, and my Daddy hated my Momma. He never said it, but I always knew he did. I saw it when he dropped me off at her house; how he didn't wanna leave me with her. I heard people say my Momma was sick in the brain, and that she was a bad Mom, but I loved her.
My parents might be forever separated, but on my face, they are still together. I got my Daddy's flat mouth and my Momma's green eyes. I am proof that hate can create love. I don't feel so loved right now, though. I feel like I'm nothing. I feel like when my Daddy said he loved me, he was lying.
And there it is, my Daddy's hand going for his belt, 'cause I chose to say the worst thing I could think of.
I don't wanna get beat, but sometimes it don't matter what little girls want.
"I want you to think about the way you're speakin' to me." My Dad, the same one that was crying in my baby photo, shouts in my face. "I don't know why you gotta be like this, Harley. I don't know why you gotta make me do this. You were havin' such a good day."
"I'm sorry—" I'm sayin' now. "I'm sorry, Dad."
"You shoulda thought about that before you started bringing this shit back up again. After this, never again, okay?"
He pulls me down into his chest, yanking the back of my shirt up to the base of my neck. I wait for the whip, and the burning sting afterwards.
I can take it. I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.
But before it can come—
"Woah! Hey!" A man's shout. "Hey, hey! Stop!"
The whip doesn't come. I can catch my breath.
Under my Dad's arm, the one that's in the air, poised to beat me, I see a man in the doorway. I almost can't make him out, but there he is — It's officer Shane. The room seems to slap him in the face, like he can't believe what he's just walked into. He's scared to step inside, in case the moment breaks and my Dad chooses to beat me, anyway. Shane's a bastard cop, and it's his job to save people. I never thought I'd be needing saved from my Dad. I still don't think I need saving. I brought this on myself. I wish he'd go away, so it could be over with.
My Dad stands up, his whole body clenched with muscle ready to punch.
"I'm gonna ask you put that down, man." This is the first time I'm hearing Shane's police-man voice. "And to step away from her, okay?"
I feel embarrassed.
I'm kneeling on the floor, grabbing onto the side of the sofa, tryna hide myself again. I don't belong here. I don't want Shane to see me like this. I wanna be the little girl he caught frogs with, not a ball of hurt and tears. Suddenly, this isn't a games room anymore. It's a wolf's den, and I got two of 'em right in front of me, circling each other, ready to bite. I scuttle further into the corner, like if I shrink myself enough, I can just disappear into the floor.
"You ain't askin' me shit, officer." Dad whispers, real nasty. "Ain't no rules, no more. Not so tough, now."
"I'm not gonna ask you again, man." Officer Shane warns, stepping very slowly into room.
He moves toward us, inch by inch, like a man inside a lion enclosure.
"You don't gotta." Dad spits. "Door's right there."
"You're hittin' on little girls, now, Daryl." Shane huffs that mean laugh again. "Sorry, buddy, but that's my business. Come on. Step away."
If Shane had his gun in his holster, his hand would be on it. But we left all our weapons in the bedrooms before dinner. He stretches his fingers; tilts his head. I realize he don't need a gun. He's gonna fist-fight my Dad if he don't do what he says. My Dad, sensing this, chucks his belt on top of the broken puzzles, and stretches out his fingers, too. They're one wrong word away from beating each other to a pulp.
I wanna beg 'em to stop, but my voice is burrowed somewhere deep inside my body, and I can't reach it.
"We don't have to do this, Daryl." Shane's half-way into the room, now. When did he get that close?
"Sure we don't." Dad snarls. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead."
Shane shakes his head. "That's not somethin' I wanna do, man. But you know I will. Step away."
A hiccup I didn't give permission to leave my mouth cuts through the room. Shane glances at me. I don't know who I'm supposed to root for.
"'Step away', huh? Step away from my own daughter?" My Dad scoffs.
Shane glances from me to my Dad, and I can see him start to realize that this angle won't work on my Dad. He holds out his hand. Something about the way he's looking at me is saying, You don't have to be afraid, but I am, and I don't wanna move. I feel like this is my fault. I watch as he flicks his fingers a little, brows raised. "How 'boutchu come over here, Harley, huh?"
Dad blocks me with his body before I can even think about it. "Hey, don't you fuckin' speak to her."
His eyes are back on my Dad. "Just tryna do what's best for everybody, here, Daryl."
My Dad cracks one of his knuckles. "Nah. Nah, I don't think you are. You got it all twisted."
"Don't think I do."
"Yeah?" Dad goads, and every second, I wait for one of them to swing. I can't stand it. "What is it you think you walked in on, then, huh?"
I think my Dad's waiting for the swing, too, 'cause he's so confident that he'll win that he wants officer Shane to try him. He wants to punish him. He wants to show him what happens when you insult a Dixon, 'cause protecting the name is more important than protecting his own body. I think about the way my Dad busted Rick's cheek; How Ronnie's Momma ain't recognise him when my Daddy was done with him.
Shane must be thinkin' the exact same thing, 'cause he starts goading my Dad right back.
"I think I walked in on you beatin' the shit outta your own kid, first of all." Shane shrugs, like it ain't his fault it's fact, and he keeps going when he notices my Dad's breathing get heavy. He's enjoying this. A smile splits his face. "I think we been worrying 'bout Jim this whole time, we been worrying 'bout the wrong man. How 'bout that? You wanted us to be so focused on him, we forget about the real monster."
"That right?" Dad side-steps Shane when he reaches the edge of the coffee-table.
"Sounds right to me, man." Shane says. "Lemme ask you this, Daryl. What is it you think I walked in on?"
I wonder where everyone else is. I wonder if at any second, one of them is gonna walk in.
"It don't matter what I think." Dad shouts, suddenly, and I shriek like I've been struck by the belt. "It's my damn business. It's my damn daughter."
"Yeah, I betchu wish it was." Shane huffs out a chuckle. "Don't want your secret gettin' out, right?"
Shane's like a wriggly little worm, needling my Dad where he don't wanna be needled.
My Dad's patience finally runs out.
He rears back to swing at Shane's head, and his fist is caught and twisted, and I hear Shane grunt in pain, and this is it, so I close my eyes—
Wait.
My eyes are open. That don't make no sense. Why is it so dark? Why can't I see?
I realize that the fight has stopped, and I feel like we've all forgotten about it and are waiting for something to happen.
There's a single murmur throughout the room.
"Was that the power?"
Author's Note.
Cliff-hanger! Mwahahha.
So, obviously, the last scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. I'd like to share why I made the decision to have Daryl act this way, because it could be a shock for some.
For starters, I think it's plausible for a number of reasons. Merle being a bad influence on Daryl, his unhealed childhood trauma and how that affects how he parents his child, and his unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions, etc.
It's not pretty, I know, and I kind of hated writing that scene, but that brings up my second point. For the sake of the themes and arcs I want to give this story, it was necessary. This story just couldn't exist if it didn't have this scene. I've got, like, three different key subplots linked to it. Maybe you can even guess what they are, because two of them have been hinted at/set up already. They're only going to get more prominent from here on out.
So that's the explanation for anybody who wanted or needed it. You'll see all this play out in the coming chapters, anyway, but I just wanted to provide this in the mean time. :)
Rant over! Phew. Everybody take a sigh of relief.
On a more positive note, everything else in this chapter was a total joy to write! These poor guys deserve some happiness 😌
Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, please consider sharing your thoughts! Sending love :)
#child abuse#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#twd#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon daughter#daryl dixon fanfiction#daddy issues#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#parent daryl dixon#rick grimes#fanfic#ao3 fanfic
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It’s not mine.
Billy Hargrove x Reader
Max Mayfield x Platonic!Reader.
Genre - Angst.
Warnings - Swearing, pregnancy, yelling.
Summary - Billy doesn’t react well to the news that you’re pregnant and Max has to comfort you.
A/N - I hope you like it.
Word count - 770
You didn't know how he'd react, the both of you were young and had aspirations for your lives. You we're sat in his bathroom with a positive pregnancy test on your lap, Billy was in his bedroom waiting for you to come back in but you needed to calm yourself down before you did. You placed the pregnancy test in your back pocket and made your way towards his room.
"Where'd you go?" Billy spoke, looking over at you.
You stayed in the doorway. "Bathroom."
He nodded his head at your answer and rolled himself a joint to smoke. "You took a while, you okay?"
"No, not really." You wanted to lie but you couldn't, tears were in your eye's and Billy looked concerned. "Billy, I'm pregnant."
"What? Who's is it?" He looked mad, his accusatory tone made you feel sick. How could he ask something like that?
A tear streamed down your face at his reaction. "It's yours, Billy." You felt a lump in your throat. "I haven't... I haven't been with anyone else. Why would you think that?"
His mouth conformed into an evil snarl. "No. It's not mine, your fucking lying. Y'hear me, that is not my fucking kid."
You didn't think Billy could be any scarier than that moment. "Billy, please."
"No, Y/N. That's not my kid, I don't care what you say. I don't want anything to do with this Y/N." He was moving himself around like a lunatic before he finally opted to storm out of the house.
You sat yourself on the floor next to the wall and began to cry, you pushed yourself up to the wall and pulled your legs towards yourself. After you heard his car drive away you heard a door open and somebody holding you. Max was the only person left in the house and she moved herself to comfort you. There was no doubt in your mind that Max knew what had happened, Billy hadn't been the quietest person when he lost his temper and Max was only in the room next door. She sat besides you as you cried and she patted your back, whispering comfort into your ear.
"It's okay, Y/N. You're okay." She spoke softly, like she was talking to a small animal. "He's not mad at you, trust me Billy loves you."
You whimpered, Billy didn't love you. Nobody act's like that with someone they love. "It's okay Max, you don't have to lie." It was loud enough for her to hear but your voice was tired from the crying.
"He does, he just doesn't know how to react. It's big news Y/N, he need's to process it." Max spoke more firmly, as if she knew.
"I know it's big news, I had to find out in your bathroom. I didn't learn how to handle this in school." You were annoyed that Max was brushing over how you felt about this. "Why do I have to act like this is okay. I'm freaking out, this is nowhere near okay, Max." You stood up and grabbed your bag.
"Where are you going?" She was stood in the door way so you couldn't get past her.
"Home." Was all you said.
"Y/N, it's raining and Billy drove you here. You cant leave now." You tried to make your way past her. "At least wait until my mom gets back, she can drive you."
You shook your head. "Max, move out of my way. I can't stay here, I don't want to see him if he comes back soon."
Max let you past her, she disapproved but she couldn't do anything to stop you.
You made your way home, in the rain. The first thing you did when you got home was shower, you changed into some fresh pyjamas before a knock came from your front door. You made your way over and opened it. Billy was stood there, a lot calmer than he had been the last time you saw him.
He brought you to himself in a hug. "I'm sorry, I was so worried about turning into my dad I didn't realise that's exactly what I was doing."
"Billy I don't wanna hear it." There were now tear in your eyes. "You said you thought I could cheat on you."
"I said that because I thought it was better for you to have cheated on me than me being a dad." He rushed to explain.
"I know it's scary but we have to do this together Billy. I don't wanna have to raise a kid alone."
"And you won't. But believe me, Max wasn’t lying when she said I love you because I do."
#max mayfield x reader#billy hargrove x reader#max mayfield#billy hargrove#max mayfield x y/n#billy hargrove x y/n#maxmayfield#billyhargrove#max stranger things#billy stranger things#max mayfield stranger things#billy hargrove stranger things#max mayfield fanfic#billy hargrove fanfic#max mayfield x you#billy hargrove x you#max mayfield oneshot#billy hargrove oneshot#max mayfield one shot#billy hargrove one shot#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things 4#strangerthings
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Physician, Heal Thyself (But Not Always)
🌹
It had been stupid, even he would admit that. Academy students were typically supposed to avoid bar fights. But Cupcake had been talking smack, and he'd had a few too many, so he had allowed the inevitable to happen. What he hadn't expected was for six other cadets to decide to use him as a punching bag. More surprising, though, was Bones.
He'd vaguely heard Bones trying to reason with his assailants before the roar in his ears drowned him out, but a fist to the stomach is a much more pressing matter than a pacifist doctor trying to tell you logic you don't want to hear, so he'd more or less written him off. That is, until he saw a cadet fall at his feet and turned to see his friend wading- and punching- through the crowd towards him.
He leapt at one of Cupcakes cronies as he landed a solid punch to Bones' face, causing the man to stumble back, a protectiveness he hadn't felt since Tarsus rising in him. But Bones regained his footing and gave as good as he'd gotten, before finally reaching Jim. Then he grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and dragged him from the bar, much like a mama cat with her errant kitten.
He stared at him, stunned, the entire way back to their room, Bones loudly scolding him about safety and rules the whole way, wiping blood from his now evidently broken nose. A sick feeling overcame him. What happened now? Was Bones going to leave, like Sam had?
He found himself dumped on the couch in an ungraceful heap as Bones' angry footsteps carried him to the bathroom and back. He sat on the coffee table, and Jim was relieved to see his medkit resting on his knee. He was (mostly) a model patient as Bones scrubbed at his cuts with antiseptic before using the portable dermal regen.
"You've got too damn good a brain, Jim, to go and get it knocked around by fools like that, y'hear me?"
He blinked. No, he hadn't heard him. Upon realizing that, Bones rolled his eyes before reaching over and lightly slapping his head- a move too gentle to actually hurt, and which he immediately followed with an affectionate ruffle of Jim's hair.
"This, your brain. Use it."
With that, he got up and headed back to the bathroom. Jim followed on his heels.
"That's it? You're not... More angry?"
"Jim, I knew when I signed up to be your friend there'd be risks. If a bar fight's the most danger we get in together I'd be surprised."
"But you got hurt!"
"Yeah, and you owe me for that."
He stopped in front of the mirror, opening his case again and finding the regen and a hypo. He reached up and, with a grunt, popped his nose back into place. He swore as he turned the hypo on himself, eyes watering.
"Scratch that, you really owe me," he said through gritted teeth.
"Sorry," Jim replied. He meant it. He hated seeing Bones hurt.
"Just-- use your head next time. Okay?"
"Yeah-- yeah, okay, Bones. I promise."
"Good." He washed the blood on his face and hands before turning back to face him. "Then we can forget about it."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Okay. Thanks, Bones."
"Anytime, kid."
🌹
Nyota held her wrist to her chest, waiting in the academy clinic. She had hurt it in combat class that day, but thankfully not too badly. The clinic was understaffed that day, and she had told Christine she was fine waiting. It was just her and two other cadets in the waiting room, after all. Not everyone was quite so patient, though.
One of the others, a command cadet, was complaining loudly, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, and bouncing his leg in agitation.
"How much longer is this gonna take?" He asked when Christine opened the door to call another patient back.
"Doctor McCoy or Doctor M'Benga will be able to see you soon, sir," she answered. "We will get to you as soon as we can."
Nyota prided herself on her ability to read people, and what she saw from the other cadet was not encouraging. He jumped up to his feet, crossing over to Christine with surprising speed.
"You can't just come back here!" She said, positioning herself between the cadet and the door.
"Watch me!" He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her out of the way.
Nyota rose, but she didn't need to interfere. Just as he was stepping into the hallway, he ran face first into Doctor McCoy, summoned by Christine's shout.
"Didn't you hear the lady? She said you ain't gettin' in here!" He snapped, though Nyota could see him running a clinical eye over the cadet. "Easy now. Looks like you're in withdrawal. How many stims have you taken?"
"None of your business!" The man snapped, and before anyone could stop him, caught McCoy on the side of the head with a right cross.
Christine leapt in, then, getting him into a safe hold and grabbing his arm to pin behind him as McCoy called for M'Benga to bring a sedative.
"Dammit," he swore as the other doctor handed him the hypo. "Sucker punches harder than he looks."
Once he was sedated, security called, and a treatment plan discussed for the over-use of stims to get him through the command courses, the cadet was taken to Starfleet Medical for a proper detox.
"You okay, Chris?" McCoy asked. Nyota had come to Christine's side as the cadet was taken away. The two had been friends since their first year.
"Just fine," she promised. "Didn't even fall. What about you?"
"I'll be fine," he shrugged. "Happens sometimes. Nothin' the regen can't fix."
"You might want to get on that before it swells too much, Len" M'Benga said. "I can finish up here."
"It'll hold," McCoy insisted. "But you can take that patient we just called back. C'mon, Ny, I only need one eye to see the swelling in that wrist."
"Only if you fix your eye, too," she threatened, following him back to one of the rooms.
"Wrist first," he said, taking out his tricorder. She answered his questions, let him strap the regen unit to her, and stared him into submission until he began treating himself while they waited.
"Are you sure you're alright?" She asked once they had both finished.
"Ain't that my line? Any residual pain?"
"None, thank you. Now answer me."
"I'm okay," he promised. "Not my first rodeo with someone hyped up on stims, and it won't be my last."
"Can't say I envy you."
"Yeah, well, it happens. Now, you be careful in that combat class, okay? Stretch right, and be careful which moves you use on which partners."
"I will. Thanks, Len."
"Sure, Ny."
🌹
"Scotty."
He looked up from the manual he was reading at the sound from the bathroom door.
"Ah, Doc! What can I do for you?"
"You can take a break from straining your eyes and come have some coffee."
He laughed, lowering the PADD he was reading from.
"Aye, that sounds good. What're you doin' up so early?"
He followed him into his room, where he could smell fresh coffee brewing. Like many things, McCoy seemed to prefer real coffee, and while Scotty tended to be more of a tea man, he never turned down real foods or drinks.
"Haven't been to bed yet- don't tell Jim or Spock."
He poured them both a cup, handing Scotty one of them and motioning to the sugar and creamer he'd set out.
"Aren't you the one always telling the crew the importance of a good sleep schedule?"
"Yeah, and that's why I'm askin' you not to tell on me," he grinned.
"Can you not sleep?"
"No, not really. I've been goin' over that last accident in Engineering. I've written up a few training proposals, and wanted you to read through them and tell me which you think'll work best before I submit them."
"Have you been working on this all day?"
"Since my shift ended, yeah."
Scotty saw him take two tiny pills from a bottle on his desk and take them before rubbing his eyes.
"Sorry, headache. Ibuprofen. Been at this a little too long, I think."
"Why push yourself like this, then?"
He scanned the proposals, an interdisciplinary first aid course specific to Engineering and the various injuries and accidents that could happen, a triage proposal to better prepare medical staff for what to expect when an accident is called in, and new safety guidelines and equipment inspection schedules.
"Well, every second counts, you know that. The sooner we get this smoothed out, the better. It could be life or death, and I'm not about to play games there."
"You never do," Scotty grinned, picking up a stylus and making a few notes. "I like this so far. I hope you made a lot of coffee, because I have a few ideas, too."
"I hoped you would," McCoy grinned, and the two sat down to begin work.
🌹
"You called me, Doc?"
"Mr Sulu, perfect timing!"
Doctor McCoy was standing by a selection of plants, studying them intensely.
"The botany department sent these up. They're medicinal. But the labels got mixed up, and we don't really know what's what."
"That's unusual," Sulu grinned, looking down at the selection. "She's usually more organized when making deliveries."
He began to catalogue the plants, calling to mind their uses.
"Fever few, plantain... Several of these are for stopping bleeding."
"Yeah, that's what we're hoping for. We're training our medics to learn other ways to heal in the field."
"Good idea," Sulu nodded, fixing the lables.
"Thank you for the help," McCoy grinned. "Oh, Lieutenant Lyle brought another plant, but I'm not sure what it does. It was bigger than the others, so I set it in the office. Little bastard scratched me, too."
Sulu laughed, plucking a plantain leaf and handing it to him.
"Chew on that for a minute and put it on the cut, that will help."
He heard McCoy's thanks as he went into the office. He gasped. On the desk was a rare Andorian Passionflower- spiked where its Earth counterpart was not, and blue instead of purple. In place of a label there was a note, and he recognized the handwriting.
"Ben?"
"Surprise," McCoy said, stepping in. He had the chewed leaf against his finger. "We were asked not to tell you anything."
He opened the envelope. It was handwritten anniversary card. He smiled, warmth filling him.
"Happy anniversary, you two," McCoy said, patting him on the shoulder. "There's minutes on my computer for subspace communication. He's waiting for you to call."
"Thanks, Doc," he answered, wiping sudden tears from his eyes.
McCoy patted his back again before leaving him to his call.
🌹
"Doctor?"
"Mhm?"
"Why did you do it?"
McCoy looked at Chekov, who was eyeing wound on his arm with deep concern.
"Reflex," he lied, finishing ripping his uniform shirt into bandages. He turned his eyes away, focusing on tying off and tending the wound until the ion storm ended and they could contact the Enterprise.
"Captain Kirk is right. You are a terrible liar, sir."
He snorted, tying off his makeshift sling. He'd taken a rather severe cut from a spear from one of the inhabitants of this supposedly uninhabited planet. The spear had been aimed at Chekov, but he had managed to push the kid out of the way just in time.
"Captain Kirk can mind his own business."
"Doctor..."
McCoy sighed, leaning back against the cave wall. Chekov joined him, still looking at him with wide-eyed worry.
"You remind me of Joanna."
"Huh?"
"I did it because you remind me of Joanna."
"Who is Joanna?"
"My daughter. My whole world. I don't get to see her often, but she's my pride and joy."
"And I remind you of her?"
"Yeah. Can't explain it. It's probably because you're so young, or some misplaced guilt about not being there to protect JoJo that makes me want to look out for you instead that the psychologist really doesn't wanna think too much about."
He shrugged, closing his eyes.
"That, and I'm a doctor, and your senior officer. Not gonna let you get hurt if I can help it."
Running for their lives had worn him out, it seems. Chekov studied him for a moment before placing his head on his shoulder.
"You are very much the papa I always wanted. My grandmother, she told me stories about him. He was a good man. If he was... If I had known him longer, I would have liked for him to be like you, Doctor."
He felt a strong hand ruffle his hair.
"Get some rest, kid. I'll keep watch."
Chekov smiled, allowing his own eyes to close. He fell asleep wondering if McCoy would laugh or be angry that he had become, as the captain said, a "mama bear."
🌹
Spock stood beside Captain Kirk's hospital bed, arms folded behind his back. He had come to check on the progress of McCoy's serum on their friend. But, also, he was here to check on McCoy. Nyota had expressed worry over him that morning after visiting.
"You want a seat, Spock?"
He turned as the doctor entered the room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other.
"No, thank you, Doctor."
McCoy set the coffee aside, moving to the bed to compare the data on the PADD to the biobed readings. As Spock watched him, he began to really notice the state the doctor was in. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in dark circles, his hair sticking at odd angles, as though he had run his fingers through it many times. He hadn't shaved, and was looking rather gaunt.
"When did you last sleep, Leonard?"
"Does it matter, Spock?"
"I think it would matter to the captain. And... I admit to a concern, as well."
"May miracles never cease," McCoy muttered, and they both knew what miracle he was praying for.
"Doctor, you must rest. The captain's status is unlikely to change in the time it would take for you to eat and sleep."
"I can't, Spock. Not right now."
"Why?"
"Because he needs me."
"He needs all of you, Leonard. Not a shell of yourself."
McCoy's shoulders sagged at that.
"I don't want to leave him," he admitted. "I promised I wouldn't leave him."
"You do not have to leave him. You could bring a cot into this room, perhaps. Shower in the en suite, and eat the meals Nyota has been bringing you."
"When I try to sleep, Spock, all I can see is him in that chamber. In that damn body bag in my medbay. It... It hurts, Spock. In a very human way, it hurts. It- this grief, it's like a wound, Spock."
"As you so often tell me, Leonard, you are a doctor. You treat wounds, better than most. You are healing the captain. The best way to heal that grief is to continue to do so. But if you damage yourself with overwork, you will not be able to care for him to the best of your abilities."
McCoy was silent for a moment before nodding.
"You're right... Thank you, Spock."
"It is... My pleasure, Leonard."
When he visited again that night, he found McCoy asleep on a cot not far from Kirk's bed, PADD still in hand. He had showered and shaved. The plate Nyota had sent him was now empty, and someone, presumably nurse Chapel, had covered him with the knitted blanket that he usually kept on the couch in his office.
Spock allowed himself to feel relieved, and quietly retreated, turning down the lights as he did so. The next morning, Kirk woke up.
🌹
"He may be a little disoriented when he wakes up," M'Benga told the assembled officers. "It was touch and go there, and we nearly lost him a few times. But I do believe he will make a full recovery."
"You are sure?" Chekov asked, his face pale. Sulu had his hand on his back for support.
"Yes. He is stable. Now all he needs is rest."
"Thank you," Kirk spoke up, gripping one of McCoy's hands from his place beside his bed. "Bones couldn't have been in better hands."
"You remind him of that when he wakes up," M'Benga laughed quietly, his calm manner helping ease the tension in the crowd. "You can talk to him now, too. Even if he doesn't hear you, it'll help him to have friendly voices around."
Scotty coughed to hide a relieved sniffle, and patted Kirk's shoulder amiably.
"Why don't you start, Captain?"
Kirk nodded, thinking.
"Bones, you know we all love you, right? So you've gotta come back to us. It's not the same without you here yelling at me."
"Indeed, Doctor. Your colorful metaphors are... Missed." Spock looked down the line of visitors expectantly.
"Da, and you promised to let us talk to Joanna next time she called you!" Chekov watched the sleeping man eagerly.
"Yeah, she and Demora are going to space camp together," Sulu pitched in. "If you don't wake up soon, who's gonna tell them how dangerous it is?"
Nyota laughed at that, and everyone (save Spock) grinned.
"Aye, Len. And you're gonna have to be the one to tell Jaylah what happened, you know," Scotty said. "Otherwise the lassie's likely to steal a ship and come all the way from Earth to make sure you aren't still hurt."
"What about you, Uhura?" Kirk asked. "You know how he likes to hear you sing. Why don't you sing one of his favorites."
"Good idea," she nodded, thinking. "I know just the one."
Soon the medbay was filled with her soft, comforting voice.
"I'll keep you safe..."
🌹 This was a long one! Thank you for reading! This was based on a prompt by @hlabounty96 ! I hope you enjoyed! 🌹
#leonard mccoy#james t kirk#jim kirk#spock#nyota uhura#scotty star trek#pavel chekov#hikaru sulu#star trek aos#star trek#my writing
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Vexx Agent Interactions
In alphabetical order, sorted by type:
Duelists
Iso:
The Valorant OC Week server has universally decided that all our OCs hate Iso.
Vexx, himself, finds him rude as fuck. Like Yoru but Worse.
Why did you have to be first alphabetically now I have to put you at the top.
Jett:
"Who let this... sassy lost child in here?"
In all seriousness though, he is genuinely concerned about how young she is
That won't stop him from socializing with her, making bets and jokes and shit
Good terms generally
Vexx thinks her knifes are cool, Jett thinks his flamethrower brew hose is cool
Neon:
"Go fast?" "Go fast."
The strength of Neon's powers scares Vexx a little, but he thinks she and her powers are cool overall, he's always liked electric powers and stuff like that
She is... very blunt though, not a big fan of that
When they first met, she tried to start talking with him like she does with Brimstone, saying "Ex-Kingdom represent!" But Vexx immediately winced and explained how that was a... touchy subject. She stopped afterwards
They once combined Boost Bottle and High Gear and Neon immediately ran into a wall
"You bring the lightnin', I bring the thunder."
Phoenix:
Unlike some of the other agents, Vexx doesn't find Phoenix all that annoying
Sure, he's reckless and stubborn, but Vexx was the same when he was his age
Plus, fire's an integral part of brewing things, and Phoenix is a living lighter
Vexx is one of the only people to regularly laugh at his jokes
Phoenix needs to stay 5 meters away from the Blast Adhesive at all times though because he sets it off early
Raze:
They do some tinkering together with the other engineers sometimes (don't forget, he's a chemical ENGINEER)
She's energetic and fun and it also reminds him of himself when he was her age
Blast Adhesive and Blast Pack are super similar and they bond over that
She is WAY too reckless for him to handle sometimes though
Reyna:
Absolutely despises her
The feeling is mutual
He always feels like she's gonna betray them for her own gain
The distrust and caution he feels around her is the same level as when he was being chased by Kingdom and the contempt is almost the same as what he has for Kingdom
But as long as they work together to save the world or whatever he sucks it up
*enemy reyna* "Y'all better get out of my way, I want that witch's head, y'hear me!?"
*reyna, enemy vexx* "That alchemist insecto's soul isn't worth my time. Kill him for me, will you?"
Yoru:
He's annoying
His powers are cool, awesome even but Yoru himself? A smug little punk
Finds him cool occasionally but yeah, no
Whenever Yoru and Phoenix fight he's always rooting for Phoenix
Also the standoffishness; not a fan. Not a fan of Neon's slight bluntness, not a fan of Yoru's full blown arrogance and standoffishness.
"Shut it, bluey. Don't throw a hissy fit."
Sentinels
Chamber:
Distrust
He was chased for too long by Kingdom guys with guns ordered around by Kingdom guys in suits. Chamber is both
(sorry @flooficandii it was a good line I had to steal)
Chamber may not be a Kingdom executive or whatever himself but he's worked with and most likely funded Kingdom
He is definitely using his money for something immoral. After reading all of the Kingdom plans and learning of some of the corrupt things Kingdom did with their money (and money Chamber gave them) and power... nuh-uh, that guy's bad
Even if he claims to be a good guy his wording, the way he talks, the way he carries himself, his posture, all scream falseness, lies, disingenuousness
He's always afraid that Chamber's about to fool him into falling back into Kingdom's hands
Reyna, he hates. He distrusts, but he tolerates. Reyna makes him feel angry. Chamber? Chamber makes him feel scared. Worried. Afraid that he— that everyone in the protocol —is being played.
Cypher:
He feels sorry for the fact that Kingdom ruined his home, and concerned that his creations may have played a part in it
Can tell that he's hiding a lot, and is a little off-put by it, but understands and doesn't pry.
Even with all that, they're tinkering buddies
(bind) "Hey, Cypher? I-I'm sorry, 'bout what Kingdom did to this place... and if I had anythin' to do with it..."
"It's not your fault, Vexx. No need to worry..."
Deadlock:
She’s… interesting
She seems a bit rude and standoffish to him at first
Although he mostly understands why
I like to think they get acquainted though. They work pretty well together, their abilities would mesh pretty well.
Killjoy:
Would you look at that, another tinkering buddy
He's surprised at how smart she is, and how ingenuitive
He finds the chicken thing on the turret cute
She gets him to warm up to Brimstone
Sage:
Thankful for all the work she does for everyone
Whenever Sage is on the team he tries to calm down so he isn't hit as much and isn't as much of a burden which... is kinda counterintuitive cause that just defeats the purpose of having a healer lmao
"Take it easy out there, Sage. If you need a boost I can get to you quick."
"No need, Vexx. You take care, too."
Initiators
Breach:
"Calm down, I appreciate you fuckin' shit up but that shouldn't involve fuckin' us up."
that's it that's his opinion
He's a cocky loud-mouthed prick who needs the spray bottle sometimes
He finds him damn good in a fight, though
(my main is breach but I am not afraid to wail on him lore-wise)
Also Breach prob invited him to drink and he declined cause he don't like beer
Fade:
"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THE BLACKMAILER IN?"
"WHAT IS THE PLAN HERE?"
"oh nevermind she's chill"
^ a timeline of opinions
Fade creeps him out, bc 1. blackmailer (and he doesn't like his history) and 2. nightmare powers.
But otherwise, they're chill.
Gekko:
He’s chill
Vexx loves Gekko’s funky lil guys
Also, another member of the Fuck KNG gang
Pat the Wingman.
KAY/O:
A good mix of awe and concern
He is very much an engineering marvel but also uh... killer robot.
Upon meeting Kay/O he immediately changed the formula for all of his brews because they would either a. gum up and jam technology or b. outright sabotage it and destroy it purposefully and he didn't want to see what would happen with Kay/O so now it just. doesn't do that with the killer robot
"Need a boost Kay/O? Don't worry, this won't jam up your circuits. I think."
Skye:
Remember when this said “She’s pretty sick in his eyes”? I was lying. Man’s fuckin LOVESTRUCK
Always gets polite and quiet and kind of awkward around her. It’s as if his personality does a 180 from cocky, energetic chaos to quiet, reserved shy boi
One day Skye smiled at him and did a little wave and he damn near had a heart attack (that was also how he realized “Oh shit, I’m in love.”)
(And since I’m a sucker for sappy wholesome mutual crushes, the way Skye realized she liked Vexx is that one day she looked at him and her brain started gushing about him and she thought “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with him” and boom. realization)
Besides the crush, Vexx does genuinely think Skye is awesome
Magical animal plant things. He finds them interesting
Wants to pet Taz
Is the one of the only ones who can survive Skye's 4 AM runs but hates them anyway cause they give him flashbacks
Skye actually chills out about the runs with him because of this
They are jogging buddies, though, and on jogs they like jogging side by side if the trail’s big enough and talking about things
Sova:
He's great. One of his first friends in the protocol, along with KJ, Phoenix, and Raze. Very approachable.
Finds the owl cute, and makes sure to avoid it when using his offensive brews
They had a vodka drinking contest with some others (mostly cause Vexx had it lying around for brews due to its high alcohol content). Sova was the winner, Vexx was the last to hit the floor
They chillin
Himself, Mirror Earth:
When he was first briefed about the mirror thing he was a little concerned, a little surprised, and a little intrigued
He thought they'd get along fairly well if they weren't fighting
Who better to know him then him
That is, until, they first met in battle and he realized how different they really were
Different, yet similar
(after this line is essentially what was going through Vexx's mind)
Why would he'd be driven to steal Radianite for what was the Kingdom of that world?
...Oh. He's... still working for the Kingdom of that world
What did they tell him?
How did they convince him?
Did he ever even learn what they were doing?
Considering what the other Kingdom is doing in this world, who knows what they've done in their own?
If he did learn and try to run, did they catch him?
Kingdom's still using him even if it's only in another world...
And so now, he's just... Concerned.
"That poor Percy... What's happening with you? What's happening to you?"
Controllers
Astra:
His first impression: Woah, space powers?! That's amazing!
His later impression: ...we are so lucky that you are a good person, you could destroy the world
His later, later impression: You're a great person, you know that Astra?
She's cheery and friendly. An incredible morale booster.
To sum it up: Powers? Sick. Vibes? Immaculate.
Brimstone:
As I said in the original Vexx post, when they were recruiting him, the moment he saw that Kingdom logo (and he'd probably recognize Brimstone) he had a heart attack and nearly starting booking it before the recruiting agents realized what was happening and asked Brim to leave, which he did.
He warms up to him eventually (with some help from the others) after shaking off the distrust and bad memories and they become pretty good friends
He still hates the logo though
"You're a great leader Brimstone. Still don't get why you won't let me wipe that stain off your shoulder pauldron, though."
Omen:
Creeped out by him, plain and simple.
Tried to socialize once. It actually went well, they had a small conversation about fears and similar things
"I can tell that your fear still has a chokehold on you, Vexx. Steady yourself."
Viper:
They're allies, I have decided
They work together in the chem laboratory sometimes
Given that Viper used to work for Kingdom, he probably straight up knew her
"Sabine... we ever talk about how much each of us has changed?"
"No, and I'd prefer it stay that way."
"Yeah. Yeah, me too."
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how seokmin knew
a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.
from the second seokmin first saw you, he thought you were far too good to be true, and he hadn't even gotten to learn the best parts of you yet.
prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue
wc.8888 | fluff, smut, courtship, oh jeez where do i even begin, the beginning i guess, polyamory, fem reader, musician!seokmin sugar daddy!jeonghan escort!reader, threesome, fingering, oral (everyone receiving), creampie, cumpla (like gunpla but with cum), (sorry), (but seriously lots of cumplay), overstim, switch!seok dom!han switch!reader, phone sex, snuck in a babygirl, hell yeah fighting for dominance, let's talk BOUNDARIES, hi mingyu, sorry but seokmin being a special guest is hot as hell, the required listening for the last scene is the album "new edition (1984)" by new edition (which is a real lp i own and listened to while writing it)
hELLOO!! welcome to my poly seokhan au! i have been neck deep in this universe for weeks now and i am finally releasing it in three parts! i will be posting today (obvi), tomorrow, and friday at noon pst, plus a little bonus epilogue whenever i finish it! today is all about seokmin and how he fell in love. i really poured a lot of myself into this one, between the poly reader and the obsession with architecture and the record collection (three fun facts about me, but you get no more context), so if you like it, please let me know! i did my best to portray the relationship as realistic and as healthy as possible❣️ also this series lowkey became a “how many cameos can i naturally squeeze in” kinda piece so if you spot one u should absolutely let me know hehe. and i edited my masterlist to accommodate for serial aus, let me know what you think!
please read the prelude linked in the contents of this post! it gives important context for the beginning of this part, establishes relationships, and sets the general mood 😏
~
seokmin lived a fairly simple life. he held private piano and guitar lessons in the comfort of his apartment, vaulted ceilings and tall windows helping to bring a bright, airy, studio environment during the day that he felt suited musical lessons perfectly - not the mention the lovely acoustics the tall room provided when he sang, belting out improv musical theater riffs as he scrambled eggs for a sandwich. he genuinely found joy and pride in helping adults and children alike train their hands to achieve new heights. he also did some contract vocal lessons at an entertainment company, stopping by the studio two or three times a week to train young new hopefuls in the music industry. he wondered how different his life would have been if he had taken their path, but he enjoyed the quiet downtime in his line of work, and wouldn't trade it for anything
his simple life. he drank tea in the mornings as the sun rose over the skyline, rode the subway with his guitar bag over his shoulder and his groceries in two overstuffed ecobags, and enjoyed his days off by relaxing in his home, scribbling down lyrics and compositions on the legal pad that never left the music shelf of his upright piano. the less simple part of his life could be described simply as you.
the second time he had been summoned to accompany you, he had been at home, heating up leftover takeout and mindlessly watching some drama on a saturday evening after having gotten lunch and playfully wasting the afternoon with a friend, when he received a phone call. he answered it without giving too much thought, expecting an invite for drinks, as was usually the case when he heard from jeonghan. he put it on speaker and set his phone on his kitchen counter, leaning against it as he ate.
"hello?"
"minnie!" he had said, the smile obvious in his voice. seokmin responded with a short greeting before jeonghan continued. "are you busy tonight?"
"just watching tv," seokmin said, spoonful of fried rice in his mouth. "why? you feeling lonely?"
"something like that," jeonghan said. the architect must have been in the car, he thought briefly, hearing the static noise of wheels on pavement in the background every time he spoke. "listen, you remember y/n, yeah?"
he nearly choked. "uh, yeah. of course. did you think i would forget?"
"not really," he said matter of factly. "we're currently heading home after that exhibit opening and she's been asking about you all day. any chance you can get to my place in half an hour?"
seokmin blinked, staring at nothing as he processed. "tonight?"
a laugh. "yeah, tonight. she's been really sweet lately, i thought you could be her treat."
her treat. "right now?"
"yes," jeonghan laughed again. "right now. if it helps the decision making process, i've had my hand between her legs this whole time and she gets needier every time you talk."
seokmin swallowed harshly, imagining you squirming in the passenger seat of the car, huffing and desperate, begging for him with jeonghan's fingers curled into you. he adjusted against the counter, his pants suddenly feeling slightly tighter. "i'll get a cab."
then he heard you, your signature whiny moan as jeonghan no doubt worked you into a mess despite his even tone as he spoke. "y'hear that, sweetheart? he said yes. i'll pay for the cab when we get there. see you soon?"
"yeah," he said, eyes still unfocused. "yeah, see you soon."
after jeonghan asked you to be an angel and hang up for him, seokmin stood and looked around at his leftover fried rice and the drama that continued playing, remnants of his simple life that he found plenty enjoyable and fulfilling on its own, but fell to the shadows as you came into the light.
the cab ride felt too fast, and jeonghan's car pulled into the driveway of his luxurious home only minutes after seokmin arrived. he emerged from the door of the cab and stood in the late november air as the other car parked, the passenger door swinging open in a hurry.
"seokmin!" you squealed, heels clicking against the drive as you ran up to him in a shoulderless, long sleeved jewel toned dress that was not at all suited for the current temperature. your arms wrapped around his neck and he laughed into the hug. "i missed you."
"it's practically snowing," he chided, pulling away to wrap his coat around you, and you happily fell into his chest. he didn't stop you when you pulled his face to yours, kissing him briefly but deeply. you tasted familiar, memories of eating you out entering his mind as he thought about how jeonghan had likely made you clean his hand in the car, and despite your forwardness and his generally shy nature, it wasn't the winter air that sent chills up your spine when he muttered "i missed you, too," against your lips.
"okay, kids, get inside while i pay the nice driver," jeonghan said, holding out your coat to seokmin. he took it, draping it over your bare shoulders. you grinned at him, working your fingers between his and leading him towards a side entrance of the home.
he felt a flash of embarrassment, wondering what the cab driver must have thought about the interaction he was witnessing, but seokmin figured that he had probably seen much stranger and decided to not worry about it, especially when you were regaling the events of the evening.
"they were playing classical," you groaned, punching in the door code with the hand that wasn't fiddling with his fingers. "from a cd. at a modern art exhibit. what part of that makes sense?"
seokmin laughed. "is that why you were thinking about me?"
you smiled as he followed you through the doorway, revealing a grand kitchen with a large island countertop. he had been here before, but on halloween, when it was full of life and the counter was covered in food. "jeonghan may have let me watch some videos," you said, and seokmin felt heat rising on his neck as he thought of you asking to learn more about him in his absence. you stepped out of your heels and walked towards the large fridge as you spoke, retrieving a water bottle. "that jazz piano number you did, jeonghan said it was at a bar? that would have been so much better, especially considering the artist's vision. his stuff was so full of life, i'm honestly surprised he allowed them to do anything other than live jazz - classical was too stuffy."
"it was a commentary," jeonghan reminded you, closing the door behind him as you offered a bottle to seokmin. "juxtaposition of traditional museum atmosphere with outlandish architecture and colorful, emotional art pieces," he said, sounding rehearsed. "the music was supposed to feel stuffy compared to the visuals."
"you guys worked too hard to settle for that," you shot back. you may have held a little resentment for the fact that jeonghan hadn't even asked for your opinion on the matter, considering you were less than a year away from a degree in musical theory. "if i hear clair de lune at one of these unveilings one more time, i'm gonna tear my fucking hair out."
seokmin laughed, but jeonghan only gave you a tired chuckle, and only after you quirked an eyebrow at him. he should have known you were only acting impressed at the exhibit because you wanted seokmin around. jeonghan could be cruel, but not so cruel as to invite a friend over to make his lady's night, only to deny everyone the pleasure after he already arrived, and this was a fact about him you were completely aware of. now was your chance to act out with little to no sacrifice - the most he would do is punish you in bed, and that, you were willing to handle.
jeonghan tsked when he saw your laptop and schoolwork spread across the kitchen island. "didn't i ask you to not do this?"
you eyed the counter, noting the teasing tone he took. "not do what?"
"leave your shit in the kitchen. you have a whole room to do schoolwork in, make a mess in there," he scolded, clicking his tongue as he flipped a textbook shut.
"i work better in bright, open spaces," you said quickly.
"i gave you a window to the sunroom."
"and i love it," you stated obviously. "and the desk you chose is nice, and the chair is super comfy, but it's still too dark in that room. it makes me want to fall asleep." you turned to the musician. "how have you been, seokmin? i haven't seen you in weeks, and jeonghan purposefully keeps secrets when you guys go out."
seokmin said close to nothing of substance as he said he was doing well and leaned against the kitchen island, focusing more on the way you shrugged the fuzzy coat off your shoulders and setting it in the counter to tuck your arms into his, wrapping them around his torso and resting your chin on his shoulder to give the man of the house a flirtatious look. jeonghan simply rolled his eyes at you with a faint smile on his face, taking off his own outer coat and going to hang it in a closet. you hummed as seokmin spoke about anything he could think of, smiling when you felt his gentle, hesitant fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back.
and that night, seokmin was perhaps too eager to secede control, allowing his friend to gently order the two of you to do whatever pleased him. currently, you were between his thighs as he laid out comfortably in jeonghan's bed, the architect fucking into you from behind as your voice went hoarse from sucking seokmin dry. his thick cock stretched your jaw to its breaking point, but your neediness for his cum on your tongue outweighed the soreness you knew you would feel the next day as you bobbed your head, your hands wrapped around what wouldn't fit. he choked, his fingers itching to reach out to you, but remembering jeonghan's firm words of no touching and gripping the sheets instead as he came into your mouth and you moaned around him. jeonghan had stopped you from swallowing completely, a hand around your throat as he pulled you against his chest, forcing your neck to crane around so he could share the treat. seokmin watched, hand involuntarily going to pump himself again despite the sensitivity, as his release dripped down both of your jaws between the feverish kisses. you whined, jeonghan continuing to thrust into you as he stole the gift seokmin gave you straight from your mouth, his fingers finding your clit, making your knees shake as he came in your pulsating cunt.
that was the first time in his life that seokmin had ever cum twice in one session, having been too turned on at the sight to even think about not having you ride his face, cum seeping out of your precious hole. too turned on by the way your fingers dug against his scalp and the way you tasted to even think about turning down jeonghan when he asked to touch him, groaning against your core as he slowly and teasingly jerked him off. too turned on by it all to even think about not cumming when he was told, fist clenching the now familiar sheets as you rolled off him, panting from the overstimulation. your face was wrecked, tearstained and flushed, as you collapsed into his side, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your hot face in his neck, his own face not much better. jeonghan proudly announced he was off to take a shower, sucking a line of cum off his thumb before saying that you lovebirds were welcome to stay as long as you would like, fully expecting you two to continue without him as he walked to the bathroom.
seokmin felt shy, for some reason, despite having just having taken a shower with you, and just before, having had sex with you both. you had asked him if he wanted sweats or a shirt to sleep in, saying jeonghan wouldn't mind if he borrowed some. he turned you down, but watched you tug a far too large shirt over your otherwise bare form, and let you lead him back to bed.
"it's a custom mattress," you told him, giggling as you pulled him onto the oversized bed, kneeing yourself to the center and plopping down next to where jeonghan was wasting time on his phone. you planted a kiss on his cheek and he looked up to smile at you before you turned back to seokmin. he noticed the duvet changed, and he wondered if jeonghan had swapped it out after the mess they had made on it. you maneuvered yourself under the covers, gesturing for him to join you. "c'mon," you said. "we cuddle here."
seokmin had never even considered the idea of spending the night in bed with two other people, but found it surprisingly comfortable for it being his first time.
he did a lot of firsts with you, as it turned out.
you started to text him when you were alone and bored, which was something you and jeonghan had discussed with the strict understanding that you would have open and honest talks about it frequently, and that you would let him know any time you reached out to the musician. the first time he ever had phone sex, seokmin was busy at the company he did contract work for, and he had even told you so after the first suggestive text you sent him, but that didn't stop you from sending him increasingly dirty ideas and photos, making him silence his phone and shove it in his back pocket as he tried to focus on his students. when he finally slipped away to a private bathroom, he groaned at the way you looked, laid out on a plush couch and squeezing at your own breasts, with your back arching just so, and he quickly called you to ask if you were trying to get him fired.
"maybe if you get fired, you can come work with me," you whined, fingers already teasing your slick folds just at the low tone in seokmin's voice. his mind whirring as you gasped suddenly, revealing that you had already started. "jeonghan's been too busy for me this week, please don't tell me you are, too."
seokmin's eyes squeezed shut, back hitting the bathroom wall as he pulled himself out of his pants, trying not to drop his phone from his ear as he imagined how absolutely delightful you must look in that moment. "i'm never too busy for you, baby."
jeonghan took him out to dinner. it was normal, mostly, and not the first time since seokmin had seen his dick, but he noticed the older was acting slightly different as seokmin turned the meat on the grill.
"about y/n," he said finally, and seokmin fumbled with a chunk of pork before clearing his throat.
"yeah?"
jeonghan smiled. "she hasn't said it yet, but i think she really likes you."
that made seokmin freeze, suddenly thinking about how he was at dinner with his undefined sext buddy's long term partner. "really?" he squeaked out.
"listen, i want you to know," he said, picking off some cooked meat and chewing it casually. "whatever happens between you two, i'm okay with it. she promised to keep me in the loop, and i trust her."
seokmin nodded, putting down the tongs and grabbing his chopsticks, continuing to avoid eye contact. "okay."
jeonghan laughed. "stop acting like i'm her dad. you and i are in the same relationship with her at this point."
he swallowed, a smile creeping across his face. "well, she does call you daddy."
the next time he saw you, you came to him, appearing at his apartment one early tuesday evening as his last client was leaving. he greeted you casually, but still snuck a quick kiss on your lips as he let you in, his student packing up their guitar. he took your winter coat and told you to make yourself comfortable as they finished up, telling you where the restroom was if you needed it, but in a tone that made you think he was saying it more to announce to his student that you had never been there before than for your comfort, which pulled a quiet giggle from you as he quickly organized his loose leaf sheet music into their designated folders. you watched him from the piano bench as he made short conversation with his student, accepted a check, and bid the aspiring guitarist farewell, closing the door behind them. when you were finally alone, seokmin blushed at the realization that you had been smiling at him the entire time, thinking about how his client must have thought their teacher had gotten himself a cute girlfriend.
you were less forward this time. less needy. you flirted, but not in the outright ways you had every other time seokmin saw you. you stood and joined him by a bookshelf as he put away materials, asking him about his day (quite lovely, especially with this to look forward to), what he had eaten for lunch (he'd gotten ox tail soup delivered as a celebratory meal for a student that just had their first solo piano recital that weekend), and how he managed to command authority in all his students when he always looked so darn cute (he had pitched his eyebrows at you and went "yah," but was unable to keep a straight face long enough to argue with you). you smiled, taking a baseball off the bookshelf and turning it over in your hands, and asked why he invited you over. he cleared his throat, saying he thought it'd be nice to take you out on a proper date, but faltered when your shining eyes caught his.
"a proper date?" you asked, smiling slyly.
"i- uh, yeah, i mean-" he cleared his throat, hand finding the edge of a table as he tried to figure out what he was trying to say. "people generally treat you in exchange for your company, right?"
"generally," you agreed, focusing on his standup piano on the far wall as you thought. "i don't want you to, though."
“i didn’t mean-” he stretched his jaw - a nervous habit that you had begun to notice - as he readjusted his approach, not wanting to imply that he wanted your exchange to be purely transactional. "i just wanna take you out. for real."
you gave him a small smile, knowing what was the case despite your teasing. "okay. it's a date."
to change the subject from one that seokmin clearly didn't know how to continue - and besides, you weren't hungry enough for dinner yet - you returned the baseball to it's display and asked him how he taught his lessons. he laughed, not because your question was funny, but because he didn't know how to answer it in a way that didn't sound like a pitch to a potential client.
"then teach me like a client," you demanded playfully, skipping to sit at the piano bench and turning to grin at him.
seokmin took a moment to look at you, with a knit sweater tucked in the front of a pair of loose jeans - a far cry from the tight fitting, short dresses he normally saw you in - sat in his apartment as the last remnants of sunrays dipped behind the skyline. "you know how to play," he said finally, but walking over to join you anyways.
"teach me like i don't," you said as he sat beside you, scooting over slightly to accommodate. "i'm very good at acting incompetent."
he laughed again. "normally, people pay me for this kind of time, but i'll give you an intro. we'll start with hand placement," he said, gently putting his hands on the keys. "starting position is important, even though you'll be moving around the keys a lot when you actually play. your thumb," he said, wiggling his right thumb and smiling when you giggled. "it starts on c. that's your root."
"oh, right," you vocalised, placing your right hand similarly an octave up from his. "music has a bunch of letters, huh?"
"only the seven," he joked, pulling his hands off the keys as you comfortably set your fingers where they belonged, a motion you clearly made often. "wow, are you sure you're a beginner? you picked that up fast."
you knocked him with your shoulder, giggling. "quick, what do i do next?"
he smiled. "try pressing the keys in order. c to g, thumb to pinky. be firm, this isn't an electric keyboard. it can sense fear."
you sucked on your cheek, smiling at the way seokmin explained things as you played, but used your pinky to strike the black key instead of g, giggling at the flat note. "oh, that sounded wrong. this piano must be out of tune."
"stop," seokmin said teasingly. "beginners don't have that kind of pinky dexterity, by the way."
"maybe i'm a prodigy," you said, grabbing his sleeve with both hands excitedly. "you have to teach me, mr. lee! you're the only one that can help me hone my gift."
"stop it," he repeated, laughing, giving you a fake glare. he put his hands back on the keys. "lesson over."
you pouted, but it was short-lived as he began to play. you watched his hands effortlessly move over each other as you listened to the gentle flowing melody. despite being classically trained yourself, back when you were young and your parents felt you needed the discipline of regular lessons, you found yourself being impressed by his deft finger movements. your eyes shut, and you let your temple fall to his shoulder as you listened.
"yiruma," you said when he stopped playing despite the song not being over.
his arm went over your head, allowing you to lean into his chest as he planted his hand on the bench behind you, your eyes still shut. "you know your stuff."
"it's one of my favorites." you smiled, eyes fluttering open again. "you play well."
your breath stopped in your throat when you realized how close his face was to yours. "have to. people pay me to teach their kids."
"jeonghan pays me to be nice to him, doesn't mean i'm good at it."
seokmin couldn't help but laugh. "how did that even start, by the way? he would never tell me when i asked."
you sighed, straightening your posture. "i suppose you should know, considering this is becoming a regular thing."
"you don't have to if you don't want to," he assured quietly. you smiled at the thoughtfulness. "i'm just curious, is all."
"i don't mind," you said, shaking your head gently at him. you inhaled, organizing your thoughts - this wasn't a subject you explained very often. "i had a scholarship for the first two years of uni, but i would have to pay tuition afterwards, so i decided to become a paid escort to save for it." you paused to study seokmin's reaction, but for the first time from someone other than jeonghan, you found no creased brow, no vague frown. no judgement. "men would hire me through a broker to accompany them to dinner, go to parties, the general stuff. i even played golf a couple times - terribly, obviously, but rich men really enjoy teaching young pretty women how to play golf. i always got a cab ride home at the end of the night, though. never did anything more. jeonghan was one of my clients."
seokmin nodded. "how long did you do that for?"
despite how you would normally take that question, you knew he meant no shame in asking. "ten-ish months? jeonghan was only for the last month or so, though."
"before he asked you to quit?"
you laughed lightly. "actually, someone else asked me to quit. this guy that had been hiring me regularly for almost my entire career. he wanted me to date him properly. i think he wanted a trophy wife. he was young, like, only a few years older than me, and he was nice, y'know? a little awkward in the beginning, but paying someone to go out with you is always a little awkward, and we got comfortable with each other pretty fast. he wanted to take the next step with me, but he wanted the end goal to be marriage."
seokmin adjusted as he thought. "but you said no?"
"i said yes." his wide eyes made you laugh, but you understood his shock. "i was ready to quit anyways, i guess?" you shrugged, shaking your head. "i wanted to go on real dates instead of getting paid to eat with men my parents' age. yukwon felt realistic to me. someone i could see myself with." you sighed. "i went out with jeonghan during my last week of escorting. when i told him i was quitting, he asked me to choose him instead."
he watched you when you paused, pursing your lips. "and then you said no?"
you giggled, bumping against his chest as he laughed with you. "i tried! but jesus, when that guy gets an idea." you shook your head again. "he asked how much yukwon was paying me - which he wasn't, by the way. we were going to do it for real, even though he was still gonna support me financially and pay for my schooling. i was gonna sign a prenup and everything - but jeonghan kept saying he would double it. said i didn't have to marry him, and that he just wanted to keep spending time with me, and if i wanted to call it quits later, i could. no pressure, no sex, no commitment… he gave me a choice, and i realized i didn't love yukwon. i thought i could, but i didn't."
"so he saved you?"
"from a lifetime of settling? i guess so. he's funnier, too," you admitted sheepishly. "i always had the most fun on nights i was with jeonghan."
seokmin smiled. "he is good at lightening the mood."
"and," you said, eyes wide. "he didn't even want us to be exclusive, said i could keep escorting or go on dates with other guys if i wanted, as long as i promised to make time for him when he wanted me. it was kind of the perfect arrangement."
seokmin nodded again. "was, being the operative word?"
you laughed, remembering how well he knew jeonghan. "lasted less than a month. we spent too much time together, and i quickly realized that every time i went out with someone else, i wished i was with him. to be honest, when i met you, i thought this would be a one time thing, so i may have tried to make it seem a little less involved than it is." you sighed. "we never really defined what we were. i think we've both always known that he was more than a sugar daddy to me, but he does basically pay me so that i can keep my schedule open for him, so i guess it's easier to tell people that? instead of everyone assuming i'm some gold digger taking advantage of his money?" you shrugged. "i do love the guy. i'm about 94% sure he loves me, too."
that made him laugh. "how long have you been together?" he asked, trying to figure out the timeline in his head. he had known about jeonghan's relationship with you for quite some time, though not the exact nature of it, or that you were so fantastic, for the mass majority.
"about a year. right before halloween, actually," you said, smiling as you leaned into him. "you were technically an anniversary gift."
his lip quirked upwards, watching you. "was it a good gift?"
"the best," you whispered, placing a slow kiss on his lips. your hand went to his sharp jaw, and you sighed against him as the kiss deepened, suddenly feeling needier than you had previously.
"does he know you're here?" seokmin asked quietly, mind flashing back to when him and jeonghan had gotten dinner together. "like this, i mean."
you nodded slowly, a hand on the bench to steady you as you leaned into him further. "he's in japan this week, told me i could see you as often as i want. just asked that i call him when i can, we spoke this afternoon."
"promise?"
you giggled. "you act like i would risk it. i like you too much, and you know he would make us both regret it if i was seeing you behind his back."
he examined your face, a smile on his lips, knowing it wasn't the part of the statement that he was meant to focus on but unable to think of anything else. "i like you, too."
so he kissed you, sitting on the piano bench in his loft apartment, and despite it being nowhere near the first time, something about it felt special. new. different.
later, though much sooner than later would imply, when the two of you were unable to stop yourselves from undressing each other, he had you seated firmly in his lap on the couch in his living room. the way he filled you out made you incapable of doing much outside of digging your hands in his hair as he rolled his hips up into yours, rambling about how perfect you were. how well you took him. how he had never seen anything as breathtaking as the way your brows stitched together and your mouth hung open as he fucked you. you huffed, twisting your hips slightly, triggering a groan from you both.
"so beautiful," he muttered, hands on your bare hips, rubbing circles into the soft flesh above the bone. "fuck, you're incredible."
"shit, seokmin," you exhaled, forehead falling on his. you knew he wasn't even using all his length, but he was thrusting deep enough into you to make you see stars. "god, i'm close."
you watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he focused on you, pulling himself off the couch and sitting up straight as his hips steadily rolled into yours. "come on, babygirl. you know i love the way you feel."
you cursed, arms winding around his neck as you pressed your chest against his, desperately kissing him as you felt yourself falling over the sweet edge. he groaned when you squeezed at him, arms wrapped around your waist, fingers gripping any amount of you he could as he worked you through your bliss. he only slowed to gently put your back to the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he curled over you, arms under your body to pull you into his chest, and a hand at the base of your neck to hold you steady as he firmly fucked you into the cushion.
"fuck, baby, you're so good to me," he groaned, forehead pressed just under your jawline, his mouth latching onto your neck as soon as he managed the words. you were gasping for air, arms over his shoulders, wondering if seokmin always made love this deeply and genuinely, or if you were just special.
afterwards, he discarded the condom that he insisted on using (you asked what the point of you getting something shoved into your cervix was if you couldn't enjoy his particularly bountiful creampies with no consequence, but he said he was not getting cum on the couch his clients sit on), pulled his underwear back on, and returned to you quickly, kissing up your body after pulling your panties back over your hips. you ran your fingers through his messy hair, causing him to look up at you. he said sorry, a laugh on his lips, asking if you wanted to get food delivered instead of going out.
"that sounds perfect," you giggled. "don't apologize."
"i'll take you out for real this weekend, i promise," he said, sitting up and stretching out his shoulder. you watched, quietly admiring how gentle and soft he seemed, with surprisingly firm muscles hiding under his usual large sweaters and shirts. "and i'll pick you up so we don't get tempted. but for now, kimchi soup and bibimbap?"
you nodded excitedly, sitting up to wrap your arms around him and planting a kiss on his shoulder. "sounds delicious."
he tried not to get excited by your touch, thinking about how you had said this was becoming a regular thing, and therefore he didn't need to get as much of you as he could before you slipped through his fingers like he had the first few times you met. he couldn't help himself, though, when his eyes met yours and you smiled gently at him, and had no choice but to put an agonizingly slow kiss on your lips before he stood to announce he was changing into something comfortable if you were just going to stay in. you giggled and grabbed your sweater from where it got discarded, pulling it over your head as you told him there was no chance in hell you were putting jeans on again before the morning, and he smiled at the implication that you would be staying the night with him.
"i have lessons tomorrow," he reminded you softly as he gathered up his clothes and walked to the stairs. "if you'd like, you can stick around, but it'll be boring."
you hummed. "i don't have class, but i should do schoolwork," you mused, watching him walk up the steps to what you could assume was his lofted bedroom. "it's been lonely at the house, though."
"if you wanna bring your things here, you can," seokmin suggested, his voice projecting easily through the space. he pulled on a pair of shorts and a more casual shirt than the one he had been wearing for his work day. "it would give you something to do while i teach youths how to play chopsticks. do you stay at jeonghan's when he's not around, too?"
you laughed, thinking about your all but abandoned apartment as you meandered towards the stairs. "lately, yeah. i used to spend more nights at home than in his bed, but he gets really busy planning stuff in the winter and has less time to take me out." you stretched your back. "i think he likes knowing i'll be there when he gets home late. makes the day easier."
seokmin nodded as he came back down, running a hand through his hair, thinking that he, too, would find his days easier if it meant going to bed with you every night. "that's very kind of you."
"it's selfish, i promise." he laughed. "if you saw how tiny my place is, you would choose jeonghan's too. besides, i get cold in bed alone."
he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "is that why you're here?"
you giggled. "no, i'm here because you invited me over. but that might be a factor in why i'm staying," you teased, hugging him tightly.
the next day, you were sprawled on his bed, writing an accompanying essay for your composition project as he taught lessons down below, only emerging to refill your water glass and use the restroom as infrequently as possible, trying to not disturb his lessons. parents often accompanied the children, usually reading a book and listening to their child practice. a college friend of his stopped by, as he tried to do at least once a month, accompanying his niece, and seokmin recalled that he was the one that had given jeonghan his number again over a year ago, feeling like he should thank him but not knowing how.
"seokmin," you called down softly when you heard him chatting casually with his friend. you padded down the steps with your empty water glass, spotting the young girl at the kitchen table with a marker and a sheet of paper, smiling when you remembered her slightly clumsy, but surprisingly advanced keystrokes, considering her age.
"what's up?" seokmin asked, pushing off of the counter he was leaning against, and he ignored the quick, questioning nudge mingyu pushed into his side.
"hi, sorry," you said, waving lightly when you noticed the tall man beside him. "i was wondering - if you have time - if you could listen to my composition piece and tell me if you think it leans more romantic or more post-great war?"
seokmin nodded. "absolutely. do you need me now, or can it wait ten minutes?"
"it can wait," you assured, eyes darting between the two men. you lifted the glass in your hand. "i needed a break."
he smiled, taking your glass and moving to pull open the fridge. "this is mingyu, by the way. mingyu, y/n. he's an architect, also."
"also?" mingyu asked, eyeing you. seokmin stared at you, realizing what he said.
your brows ruffled as you studied the tall man's face, not recognizing it. "we must not be in the same social group. i'm a friend of jeonghan's."
he gave you silent thanks for keeping the relationship ambiguous. mingyu, however, nearly yelled. "yoon jeonghan?" he laughed. "you know, i didn't even see that guy at his own halloween party. you still keep in touch, i assume, seokmin?"
he nodded, putting your filled water glass on the counter beside you, and you wondered how you never saw mingyu at the party, either. "yeah, we hang out fairly often."
"he introduced us," you interjected. mingyu smiled between you two. "thought we'd match well, i guess."
"well, you just asked a music teacher to review your composition, so," mingyu laughed. "he was right?"
seokmin studied you with a crooked smile on his lips. "have you ever known yoon jeonghan to be wrong?"
you stayed another, more innocent night, but when seokmin woke the next morning, his face was pressed against the side of you neck, and you were pushing your ass back against his morning wood.
"fuck, good morning," seokmin groaned, hands gripping at your hips where they had already been aimlessly floating.
"oh, thank god you're awake," you panted out. you spun in his grasp, pushing his shoulder back on the bed and climbing atop him. "you must have been having a fantastic dream, because you would not stop touching me."
he couldn't help the whine in his throat, mostly from embarrassment. "i'm so sorry."
"don't be," you rushed out, peeling off your shirt. "i just need you now."
considering this was his third time seeing it, he didn't think he would be so awestruck still, but the snapshot of you, topless, seated on his lap with your hands on his chest was a view that seokmin would likely never get over, because it felt like he was the dorky, awkward protagonist and you were the long-shot love interest that was way too cool and way too hot for him in this cliché coming of age comedy.
you kissed him, and he pushed your hips down to grind against his lap, pulling a gasp from your lips. he took the opportunity to bring a hand to your neck, pulling you into open mouth kisses. you moaned without shame as you rolled your hips.
"you know what jeonghan told me?" you asked, pulling back to tug his underwear just far enough down to release the member you couldn't stop thinking about.
you straddled his lap, hands on your thighs. seokmin pushed his bare cock against your core, the wet fabric sticking lightly to his length. "what, baby?"
"he told me he wanted you to plug me up," you breathed, biting your lip when seokmin used a thumb to pull aside your underwear and drag your wetness across his dick. you moaned. "he wanted you to fuck me senseless and tell him all about it."
seokmin groaned, neck stretching out. "i can do that."
"no, baby," you said, bringing his free hand to your face and putting a kiss in his palm before you lifted yourself up, his thumb still hooked on your panties as you rubbed the head of his cock through your folds. "i wanna fuck you."
you sunk down onto him, jaw dropping. he smiled lightly, running his hands down your thighs. "i'll let you if you can."
your toes clenched, and you tried to maintain face. "i can."
seokmin folded his arms under his head, trying to avoid the temptation of fucking up into your warmth. he sighed, breathing out a "go on, then."
you put your hands on his chest and bounced on him several times, biting at your lip at how wide he stretched you out, but taking too much pride in the way his eyes hung half lidded and his breathy groaning to stop.
your hands went to his neck, leaning forward, lifting his head slightly off the pillow to kiss him, his hands falling from behind his head to hold yours, stopping you from pulling away.
he moaned into your open mouth, and you backed up for only a second to blearily meet his eyes as he panted. "baby."
you nodded, stealing a few more messy kisses. "yes?"
he groaned again, your hips twisting over his. "you're like a dream."
you could feel the heat radiating off your neck and cheeks, but you just pushed on his chest to sit upright, hands landing on his thighs. you moaned again, unapologetically, as you rotated your hips over his, and he bucked into you at the angle change. "if this is the dream, please don't wake up."
seokmin had a sneaking suspicion that he was in love with you, or at the very least falling towards it. the confirmation of this fact threw itself in his face, not when you proved that you could fuck him, sitting deeply on him to push his cum further in, or when you squealed and giggled as he threw your back onto the bed so that he could pull your underwear off proper and bury his tongue in your heat, but afterwards, when he wandered into the kitchen after using the restroom and found you wearing one of his shirts, waiting as his electric kettle bubbled to life, his favorite blue mug on the counter beside a white one - the white one, he realized, with the finger heart design that he had chosen for your coffee the day prior. and he told you so, rushing to explain himself and assure you that you didn’t have to say it back, but you just hushed him and smiled, saying that you loved him too.
seokmin had to go to the entertainment company that afternoon. you walked with him to the station near his apartment and he sat you in a cab, a kiss on your lips, before he hurried down to catch his ride to work. he breathed heavily when he could finally lean against a wall in the train, having to run to catch it before the doors closed.
seokmin❣️: almost didn't make the train 🙃
you: but you did!!! proud of you 👍
seokmin❣️: thanks 🥴💕
you were both smiling after that.
he took you out to eat that weekend, as promised, and you had honestly forgotten what it was like to date people that weren't jeonghan. you liked riding the subway with him (you couldn't even remember the last time you took it), and you thought it was cute that he let you stand against a wall to keep easy balance as he stood in front of you. you were slightly impressed that he barely rocked with the movement, only grabbing an overhead loop when the train was pulling into a station.
"wait, you're especially pretty right now," he said suddenly, leaning forward to inspect your eyes.
your head hit the wall gently in reaction, flushing at his comment, wanting to bury your face in your scarf. "thank you."
he gave you his signature crooked smile. "of course."
it was cold out, but seokmin wrapped his hand over yours, shoving the whole ordeal into his coat pocket as he walked you down the street towards the restaurant he had picked. you giggled, squeezing his hand in his pocket, but he just continued telling you about which of the trainees he was working with seemed like they would debut.
"jiyoon composes, too! i'm really impressed with her actually," he said, trailing off when he saw the sign for the restaurant. "ah, here it is."
you thanked him when he held the door open for you, and you were immediately struck with the smell of tomato, cheese, and bread.
"i haven't had pizza in ages," you said excitedly, following him to a table.
"don't tell me," seokmin said, helping you take off your jacket and hanging it on a hook at the end of the booth. "you guys don't order pizza?"
you shook your head, sliding into the booth comfortably. "not often. jeonghan likes asian food."
seokmin froze as he was pulling off his jacket to stare at you. "what about you?"
"i like eating."
he laughed. "well, i like pizza."
after dinner, you insisted he come back to the house with you. he said he didn't know, thinking that you would probably need your energy for when jeonghan got home the next day. you pouted, knitting your fingers with his as the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside the pizza place.
"but i really wanna show you my record collection," you said, batting your eyelashes at him.
that was all it took.
you discovered that there was a bus stop near jeonghan's home, and while you would likely never take a bus without seokmin, you thought it was a good nugget of information to tuck away as you marched through the front door of the estate you practically called home.
"welcome to yoon manor," you joked, spinning to smile at seokmin.
he looked around, and despite having been here before, it felt grander coming through the main entrance and without the distraction of party guests. he had seen it empty briefly, from a different angle, when you were pulling him up to your bed a few weeks prior, but he realized he hadn't actually been able to see much when you were the focus of his attention.
"the kitchen's that way, there's a bathroom," you said, pointing at the opening past the stairs as you pulled off your scarf. you folded it over your arm as you walked further into the home, seokmin following you closely. you walked past a partial wall, pointing further down the hall that held the secondary living space that he originally met you in. "there's a bathroom to the left there, and if you go to the end of the hall there's an open sunroom."
seokmin looked around the room you stood in, recognizing it in bits and pieces, but it looking much different without a crowd and flashing lights.
"and this is the living room," you said, spreading your arms as you spun to him. "tv, couch, bar, and most importantly," you giggled, tugging him towards the far wall of the room, which was covered in deep toned shelving, speakers, and a record player. "my record collection."
you took off your jacket as seokmin looked around in awe, noticing you had select autographed records displayed alone on picture ledges with spotlights pointed at them. one picture ledge was empty, centered just above the player. you tossed your coat into the couch, pulling seokmin's off his shoulders as well, despite his distraction.
"these are all yours?" he asked, turning to look at you after you had discarded the coats.
you nodded, spinning the felt of the record player mindlessly as you looked around. "i actually had started a collection years ago, but i couldn't make an excuse to spend the money on it very often. jeonghan gave me a pretty good excuse. also, whenever he pissed me off, he knew he could take me to a record shop and i would forgive him."
seokmin laughed. "does that happen a lot?"
"not as often as you'd think, considering what an ass he is," you teased. you gestured to the collection. "this is my baby, though. the house is his, but this wall is mine."
"well, play me a record," seokmin requested plainly, making you smile into a laugh.
"okay," you said, scooting past him to pull out one of the many cube drawers amidst the shelving. you flipped through a few. "dancing music?"
seokmin watched your hands, humming. "slow dancing, but, like, in a nostalgic discoteque."
you thought for a second, then closed the drawer to move to a different one, quickly flipping through and finding the record you wanted. you pulled the lp out, putting the bright blue sleeve with five smiling men on the empty picture ledge.
seokmin wrapped his arms around you as you set the record, striking the play button and enjoying the whirring as the lp spun, the needle connecting and the speakers scratching to life. you spun in his grip, laying your arms over his shoulders as he pulled you away from the record stand, into a more open space to playfully dance to the soulful bass lines and pop melodies of new edition.
"this house is insane, right?" seokmin asked, squinting at you as you laughed and nodded.
"it really is. the craziest part is he's still working on it."
"really?" seokmin looked around. "what else could he wanna change?"
you let your eyes wander. "i think it's a work in progress for him. the sunroom was brand new when we met, and he added this record display last winter, when i told him i always wanted to collect. the bar is new," you pointed. "he finished that in october. the kitchen was a summer project."
he blinked heavily, trying to register. "does he do all the work himself?"
"his team helps him," you explained. "he has a few contractors he works with and they manage the construction projects, but every once in a while i wake up on a sunday and he's cutting wood in the garage because he got an idea. he drafts all the changes, usually participates in the build, and picks most of the furniture, but he has people to collect the options for him."
"and he also does all that for other people, too?" you nodded, giggling. "and has time to take you to events almost every weekend?"
"i know. i didn't understand how he found the time until i realized that he just gets paid to do his hobby."
seokmin nodded. "me too, i guess."
you grinned. "me three. you should stay with us more," you suggested, rocking with him gently. "he'll be late tomorrow, but he's working from home this week…"
"hush," seokmin chuckled. "i have to work. besides, i'm sure he wants you alone after letting me claim you while he’s been gone."
"about that," you said, pulling away slightly to give him a cheeky smile. "i haven't gotten him to admit it yet, but i think jeonghan has a crush on you."
seokmin choked out a laugh. "what? me?"
"seokmin," you started, giving him a look. "he wanted you to join us for sex. more than once."
"okay," he scoffed lightly. "people have sex just for the sex sometimes," he pointed out, but in a tone that had no chance at convincing anyone.
"sure," you giggled. "but think about it. he kept me to himself all this time, and suddenly he's encouraging us to see each other without him? asking me about everything we do together..."
he swallowed. "everything?"
"everything," you breathed, eyes trained on his lips. "he knows i'll always go back to him, and i think he's hoping i'll bring you with me."
he blinked at you, processing. "is that what you're doing? bringing me back to him?"
"only if that's something you're interested in," you stated, cocking your head.
"him, you mean?"
you thought a second. "yes?"
you watched him blink repeatedly, seemingly considering the concept. he thought back to all the nights that became early mornings, laughing and joking with the architect since before he had even an ounce of notoriety. he thought of how jeonghan had reached out to him again a few long years later, and the way he had insisted on paying every time they got food. he wondered if there had been something happening that he hadn't noticed, his oblivious nature getting the best of him again. he thought about when things changed, when they met less often and jeonghan seemed quieter around him. and months later, when he started mentioning you.
"maybe," he said finally, mind whirling. "i don't know, i've never thought about it."
you nodded, putting your arms over his shoulders and swaying lightly to the music. "take your time," you said, smiling when his forehead pressed against yours. "we'll wait for you."
#this is my life's thesis#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen smut#seventeen scenarios#jeonghan fluff#jeonghan imagines#dokyeom fluff#dokyeom imagines#jeonghan smut#dokyeom smut#poly seokhan au#i wrote dis#hannie#sunshine#i love this one yall#my magnum opus#i cant wait to post the rest <3
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Robstar Week Day 7: Looking Back, Moving Forward (Prompt: Together)
Those of you who have read my previous year's fics may already suspect what this one will be about, based on the fact that it hasn't shown up yet. Yup, it's time for this year's Royal Family Verse fic! For those of you who don't know what the Royal Family Verse is, it's a kind of special "side" continuity that I set one of each year's Robstar Week entries in. To summarize, when Galfore suffers a debilitating injury and chooses to abdicate to Starfire rather than risk being overthrown by a strong but foolish challenger, Robin chooses to go with her and marriage and emperor-consort-hood kind of inevitably ensue. If you're interested in reading more from this 'verse, feel free to check out "A New Life" from 2020 and "These Winding Halls" from 2019 (or just check the “Royal Family Verse” tag on my blog). While I decided pretty quickly that "Together" would be the prompt of choice for the RFV fic, I actually had a little difficulty deciding what specific event to write about... my first idea turned out kind of meh, while my second one ended up being something I realized I wanted to write as more of a standalone fic. With that in consideration, it might not take a full year for the next RFV story to come out...
Anyway, I suppose that does it for this year's Robstar Week. Thanks for joining the fun, everyone, and see you next year!
Looking Back, Moving Forward
It was a scene that, just a few months ago, he would not have expected to see again. Starfire on a high palace balcony, Tamaran's pinkish-purple sky above her, a cheering throng of Tamaraneans below. The strange upright crown of the planet's royalty resting almost a little awkwardly on her brow.
There were differences from the last time, of course. He could have sworn the crowd was more than twice as big, now — the result, no doubt, of a transition of power planned ahead, rather than won in an impromptu duel. Galfore himself had traded her princess' diadem for the larger crown of the Grand Ruler moments ago, to the still-roaring delight of those below. Life had been so much simpler, he thought wryly, when it had been the other way around.
The biggest change had been Galfore's doing as well. He had wanted his last act as Grand Ruler to be something meaningful, something that made his bumgorf truly happy before she had such great responsibility thrust upon her. That was why, now as she prepared to address her people, the new empress still wore a wedding gown that she seemed far more comfortable in than her last.
It was also why Robin — though he supposed he had to use his new Tamaranean name now — waited in the wings just a little behind her, dressed in its partner.
Mar'ikesh's, or Nightwing's, mind was still reeling from the events of the day, and what they would mean for himself and Starfire alike. For the moment, though, he forced those thoughts down to listen to her words.
"Just a few years ago, I stood on this balcony and declared that I was not best for Tamaran," she began. "I still believe that, at the time, that was the case. I had been away for too long, and my heart still belonged too much to Earth."
Nightwing felt himself tense up; her heart still belonged to Earth, he knew, and it took all of his willpower not to look back at where their friends watched from their places of honor or step up to lend a comforting presence while she had to put on a brave face. Not yet. You'll have your moment.
"Further, it would not have done well, so soon after my sister's coup, to begin a reign with further violence among family."
Here Starfire paused for just a moment, taking a deep breath too quietly for the microphone hidden in the balcony to pick up. She chanced a quick glance back at him, and he offered her a small but encouraging smile.
"But much has changed since then," she went on, her voice growing stronger. "Galfore's wisdom and courage has served you all well, and I will cherish his guidance in the years to come. But if he believes that I am ready for this position, then I know that I must be. And I will do everything in my power, through my own experience, to ensure that Tamaran continues to prosper. This I promise you today."
Another wild cheer rose up, and Starfire's face shone with more confidence than Nightwing had seen in the past month. She turned to him, smiling, and held out a hand.
Now was the time.
Nightwing stepped forward and slipped his hand into hers, and she pulled him over to join her by the balcony wall. He tried not to think too hard about the size of the inhuman crowd, or the snatches of conversation in a language he was only just beginning to learn, or the odd weight of the diadem on his forehead.
"And as for my heart," she said a little more softly, still looking into his eyes with that gentle smile on her face, "a part of it has chosen to join me here, so that I may not be distracted by thoughts that I have left another home behind."
She returned her attention to the assembled Tamaraneans. "Mar'ikesh is one of the most brave and noble people I know, and it is my great pleasure to introduce him to those of you who have not seen him already. Si kaxga si darta!"
The crowd repeated that final phrase in chorus, and Nightwing had to swallow a small lump in his throat. It was a Tamaranean saying he had become quite familiar with recently: "Our family is our strength." In this context, he believed it related in some way to how the people saw the royal family as 'Tamaran's family,' but its general form was something he understood clearly enough.
Family. That's what we are now.
Nightwing must have been distracted by those thoughts, because the next thing he knew, he and Starfire were suddenly being scooped up by Cyborg in a big bear hug.
"I can't believe it's finally happening! Our girl's all grown up and ruling the planet!" he half-blubbered, his human eye tearing up while Beast Boy and even Raven came in and joined the impromptu group hug.
"We're really gonna miss you guys," Beast Boy added, his tone more subdued than Nightwing thought he'd ever heard it.
Starfire was tearing up too now — they all were, really — but she shook her head and smiled as the embrace broke apart and she stepped back to look at her former teammates.
"We are not letting you leave so soon," she insisted. "I already told you that this kind of party is sure to last at least a week."
Raven offered a subtle smile of her own. "Don't worry, you won't get rid of us that easily."
Cyborg let out a low sigh and placed a hand on each of the couple's shoulders. "I know, but it's still coming up so fast. You two take good care of each other, y'hear?"
Nightwing took his new wife's hand and shared a look with her. "That's kind of the plan," he said.
And just because the statement was obvious didn't make it any less true. He'd have a lot to adjust to, and even with all her prior training Starfire would too, but it was very much official now that they would go through it all together.
And when they were together, he'd found, there was nothing they couldn't do.
#Teen Titans#Robin#Starfire#robstar#robstarweek#writing#prompt#fanfiction#Beast Boy#Raven#Cyborg#Royal Family Verse
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mercy. | chapter 3 - reverie
waking up was never this different.
Sounds of water trailing down the pool waterfall echoed as drinks poured and barbecue was served.
Everything felt so good, so normal, almost mundane. It had been a cheerful, sunny day of summer, warmth seeping into your bones, making your skin shine as you lounged by the pool. Droplets of cool water splashed on your face, a crisp interlude to your reverie. Fingertips loosely wrapped around the ice cold drink, taking occasional sips from it. Kids laughed and cheered as they played, splashing you with water in the meantime. You did not mind. You had always been fond of them.
“Think she’ll walk again?”
“Hell, I’d be surprised if she lived.”
Children lured you to play with them in the pool. You could not be anywhere near bothered from your comfortable spot with the mango-flavored drink in your hand, cooling you. Their squeaky voices had been so excited that you gave it a second thought. Playing in the pool sounded like a lot of fun, certainly more fun you had in a while at your stressful job. You wanted to go back, at least for a little while, to the peaceful times when you were a little girl, how you would jump from floaties and giggle and spread happiness. Oh, how you loved summer, spent at the shore, without a single care in the world, enjoying everything the beautiful weather offered you.
"I'm jumping in!"
Drops of water from the cool rag placed on your forehead woke you up, in more ways than one. The dried blood and bruises on your face appreciated the feeling, sending a relaxing tingle over your skin. Your could feel, feel your fingertips, the humid air engulfing them against their dried texture. Consciously breathing, your lungs getting filled up with air once more. Your eyes took their sweet time in fluttering open, a blurred vision welcoming you into reality.
It would have been the epitome of a peaceful resurrection if it was not for the two strangers staring you dead in the eye from above.
It was ironic, really. A gruff, dark-haired guy and a much smaller, green-eyed, young little girl staring you down like you were the odd bunch in this scenario. You dealt with much worse, held captive by far more terrible, dark souls.
Were you at the mercy of this odd little survival gig now?
“Where -” your lips moved, with the pathetic excuse of a voice you have left. Your vocal cords didn’t want to co-operate either, apparently, as you spoke in a low, raspy tone. All of the limbs in your frail, undernourished body screamed at you not to move, as you laid on an old, dirtied mattress. “…where am I?” you managed to ask. Your lungs fought for air in a desperate inhale as you gasped uncontrollably, taking in the stuffiness mixed in with the linger of mold in the room. As your vision cleared out gradually, you find yourself trying to look around where you were holed up in.
Just how long had you been out?
Sweat was forming on your battered skin and the room felt stuffy, so your instincts told you it was late summer still. Another question to add to the growing list to ask these...hunters? Fireflies?
No, you would have recognized them if they were. There were not many left flying around.
Your conscience was beginning to come back into you, slowly but steadily with every single heartbeat and breath taken, like waves in a lazy ocean. You almost didn't want to be conscious - wanted to be left alone, just sleeping in a safe place, without a care in the world.
Yet, it looked like this cruel, relentless leftover of the universe had more in store for you.
It took a couple of moments of steadying your breathing - then it hit you. Pain, lots of it, invading your mid-thigh like a swarm of ants all over your skin. It was the kind of pain that almost-healed, sore wounds created, nevertheless, you hadn't been able to feel any sort of sense during the time you were asleep - God knows how long - and it was making itself known alright. You let out a hiss, your eyebrows furrowing as your gaze directed itself to your bandaged wound.
The lower half of your pants were missing, cut-off right below the bandages... how the hell? Last you remembered, you had a bullet in your thigh, almost dying of blood loss in a tenement high-rise on your way out of the state, and your pants covered your lower leg.
Why, on the damned scorched earth, would anyone help out someone like you?
"You're in safety," the gruff man spoke, a vague answer to your question, his voice sounding low and threatening beneath that peppered beard. "for now."
The two little words he added at the end with such a tone that you just knew he would shoot you on the spot if you tried to do anything stupid by his books. You could not do anything but nod, and gulp. Even that hurt.
Your worried expression seemed to go unnoticed as an exasperated voice intruded your thoughts. "Yeah, Joel, this is a terrible idea," the girl who was looking down on you earlier with bright, green eyes scoffed, shaking her head, her hand flying out to gesture at you. "The hell were you thinkin'? She cannot even walk - what are we gonna do with her?"
Just what was this little girl talking about? You could not help but look in between the two survivors, the man supposedly named Joel shooting the girl a side glance, his flannel-covered arms folded in front of him as he kept his gaze on you. He looked strong, very strong - the type of hardened survivor that could snap your dainty little neck in half if he wanted to. There had been just something about him, something that you could not quite place a finger on. It took you another look in his green eyes combined with the familiar crimson patterns of the flannel that stretched on his chest to finally come to your senses. Was this...
"Wait," you called out, trying to lean yourself on your forearms with a hiss. "You're the guy who saved me from the hunters," you continued, as if trying to make yourself believe rather than ask the guy, couple strands of hair falling onto your damp face as you propped yourself up. The scoffs and the little murmurs of you gotta be kidding me coming from the teen, ringing in your ears.
"Thank you. Not a whole lot showin' mercy these days."
"Damn right, y'hear that Joel? We've heard that before," the kid started talking again, this time in a little mocking tone as she crossed her arms and walked over to your figure, her eyebrows furrowed and her fiery green gaze focused on the gruff man.
If anything, this had to be a rather unusual dynamic between a father and a daughter you had ever seen - made you think that he had taught her well, not to trust strangers and all. Oh, she surely had to be his daughter, judging by your first impressions of her - fiery, headstrong. But what the hell was your fault? The man had helped you himself, carried you to safety and she sure as hell wasn't there when those damned hunters ambushed you in that high-rise right when you was about to escape Pittsburgh.
What were they going to do with you? You were surprised when the man had left you some supplies back in the city, you supposed he had cleared out the damned infected scraping at your door but compared to the level of surprise that you had looking at the little girl and her father, arguing about what they were to do about you - the former had been nothing. Even in your weakened state, it did not make sense in the survival mindset that you all had grown so accustomed to over the past twenty years, to take in a damsel in distress simply because you wanted to play the hero for a while.
It was a hard-learned truth that there had been no heroes left in this empty shell of the world - it was the survival of the most cruel, most resourceful and the most violent.
Hell, if you had been in his position when he found you, you would be quick to put a bullet into your head - without glancing at the dead look in your eyes.
You had done it many times before. You were damn sure he had as well, else he would not be surviving this far into the outbreak. Why was this one time different?
The man in front of you, standing all tall and broad, had a contrasting troubled expression in that rogue face of his. Just one look at him could tell you he had seen the worst of the outbreak, killed and tortured. That strength he seemingly possessed and that recluse surrounding his aura did not come from simple blind luck. His eyes assessed you, every single movement you made - almost as if he was judging whether to spare you or kill you right there on that ugly mattress based on what your next moves entailed.
It was not like you could even raise your hand to throw a punch - the strange pair knew you could not harm them even if you so wanted to. You had been down the road of recovery before, getting shot many times in the course of a pandemic, a couple days of rest would get you back on your feet. Before, you had always been alone or with people you somewhat trusted. Not with complete strangers who acted out of their sheer leftover notion of mercy to save you.
You were vulnerable, in such a state that you depended on them, on someone if you wanted to continue the little survival gig you had been on for two decades. Over at the corner of the room, you could spot your familiar backpack with your supplies staying intact in it, your trusted guns resting on the floor beside. Unarmed and weak, you slowly rose yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed, dragging your injured thigh along as your feet touched the ground, your jaw clenched all the while to avoid screaming out of pain. It was not the time to show weakness, to emit even the slightest grunt of misery - even a small sound, a little indication of you not being able to tolerate pain would decide whether they left you abandoned there or not if you were deemed useless in their eyes.
"Look," your voice would echo across the wooden panels of the room, making the little girl in front of you move her hand to the pistol tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Your hand rose up in defense, indicating that you meant no harm, your tired orbs moving back and forth between the pair as the stuffy air in the room felt even more stale with the added tension of the unknown.
"I don't know who you both are but I know you saved me from that mess," you would speak slowly, your tone softening ever so slightly as your gaze rested on the man. "If it wasn't for you, hell, I'd be long dead from blood loss. I'd like to repay you in some way."
To your surprise, the little girl's expression grew even more grim as her eyebrows furrowed in doubt and distrust, however, her hand left the revolver she had been holding onto earlier only for them to be placed on her hips as her green orbs bore daggers into you. If only you could look in the mirror then, you would see the helpless expression your delicate features harbored, an unusual feat by itself.
With the girl's watchful eyes over him, the gruff man crouched in front of you, couple feet away to match your gaze due to his towering height. Your eyes immediately focused into his amber green ones, with glints of doubt and fear in them, as well as determination. One of his large hands would stroke his peppered beard slightly, lost in thought yet his gaze never faltering from your orbs, his elbows resting on his bent knees.
"Think you can handle a gun once you're walkin'?" he asked, though he already had an inkling of an idea that you had been a decent marksman based on the body he had found on the first floor of the high-rise with a bullet lodged in his skull.
To which, you could only nod with a strong look in your eyes, making it clear you were not playing around.
Much to the little girl's dismay, Joel would nod pensively before getting up and breaking your gaze.
"We leave in a couple of days, and you're comin' along. If you want to pay what you owe me, you're gonna have to protect us. "
next
#mercy#val writes#fanfiction#chapter 3#the last of us#tlou joel#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel is such a daddy
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[WritProm: the brothers meeting new baby brother for first time?]
The 19thof Heart Fire.
The hare escaped in ajingle of bells.
‘And that, my lad, iswhy you have to work with your partner.’
Hjolrin stood a fewpaces back, clutching the rope in his hands and watching theflattened grass spring back into shape in the hare’s wake. Beforehim, at the other end of the meadow, the rest of the hunting grouprelaxed their hold on the net with a sigh, muttering things hecouldn’t quite make out at such a distance. He dropped his head andhunched his shoulders.
‘Sorry.’
‘Slip behind, and youleave them a hole. Leave them a hole and they’ll take it.’
'Aye. Sorry.’
'Cheer up, lad.’ Thehunter dropped a hand onto his shoulder, large and rough and heavy,as the rest of the group gathered in around them. 'You’re young.You’ll grasp it in time, with practice.’
After a whole weekspent in Riverwood, watching the hunters at work whenever Minnel tookher eye off him long enough to sneak out after them, Hjolrin doubtedthis, but when he looked up it was hard not take some heart fromSvend’s words. The Nord only lowered his voice from a commandingboom, the boom which carried it across plains in the midst of thehunt, when he felt strongly about a subject. The quieter it was, themore heartfelt his words, and now it was soft and gentle.
'What say I take youon a hunt with the bow? You liked that. See if I can’t teach you totrack at the same time.’ They left the meadow and plunged into theforest, Hjolrin scrambling over stumps and roots, Svend gliding overthem like a ship over the peaks and troughs of waves. 'Try now. Theseventy-two signs of the stag. Go.’
'Slots. Creeps. Browselines. The fraying post. Old velvet.’
'But only in thespring and summer. This time of year, the antlers’ll be clean.’
'When do they dropthem?’
'Bucks’ll cast them ina month or two from now, round about Sun’s Dusk. Does keep them 'tilafter the first calves are born in Second Seed. Now carry on.’
'Fords. Lying uppatches. Stripped bark…’
By the time theyreached Riverwood and packed away the hunting nets, Hjolrin hadlisted fifty-nine signs of the stag, and would have made it a roundsixty if it weren’t for the thunder of footsteps and voices tumblingout of the Sleeping Giant Inn. He started, dropping the rope, and thebells clattering across the floor wasn’t enough to drown out thevoices of his siblings. Minnel and Brandrel led the charge.
'Hjoll! Pa’s here! Itold you not to go wanderingoff.’
'We’re going home tosee the baby! It was born yesterday and it’s a boy. We got a newbrother.’
Svend picked up therope and looped it around his arms a few times.
'Looks like I’m losingmy new apprentice,’ he said. 'Come back and visit, y'hear? You’rewelcome any time if you want to learn how to hunt.’
'Aye. Please.’
'Kyne walk with you.’
And he was gone,loping off, bow slung over one shoulder, into the cover of ferns andpines, as Minnel surrounded Hjolrin and hustled him along the path.Pa Boar-Chaser left his post leaning against the inn porch and strodeahead on the path to Whiterun.
Hjolrin drifted to theback of the procession. At the gate out of Riverwood he paused tostare down the road, and on the bridge he stopped entirely until asmall, sticky hand tugged at his sleeve. He glanced down to findTrond’s round, pink face, clearly weighed down by troubles too muchfor a six year old to bear alone, his other hand gripping his littleleather bag close to his side.
'All right, Trond?’
'No.’
This was not conduciveto much conversation. Aware that they were losing their family to thepath ahead, Hjolrin let his youngest – formerly his youngest –brother tug him onward, in a silence which wasn’t broken until theyrounded the corner which brought the Whiterun Plains into view. WhileHjolrin squinted at the city walls and the distant smoke spreadingacross the sky, Trond slithered down the shortcut in the bank, andwaited for his brother to join him before he announced,
'Brandy said they’regonna sell me.’
Hjolrin stoppedpatting the mud off his legs.
'Who?’
'Ma and Pa. He saidwhen there’s a new baby you gotta make room for it by selling one ofthe others. And he looks after the goats and Minnel looks after thecows and you’re a hunter now, so he said they gotta sell me.’
'Don’t think so.Didn’t sell anyone when you were born.’ He started to walk, thenstopped. There was a book at the bottom of the bank, dislodged by abump against a stone, and no sooner had he stooped to investigatethan Trond snatched it away from under his fingers. 'That yours?’
'Aye. The inn persongave it to me. It’s about a giant.’ Trond stowed it into his littlesack, thumping it until it was well-hidden at the bottom. 'Don’t tellBrandy, he said books are for milk-drinkers. I don’t want to be amilk-drinker.’
'I won’t.’
'Promise?’
'Promise.’
The exchange seemed tohave reassured Trond. He hummed a tune picked up from the SleepingGiant to himself, and Hjolrin found his attention drifting to thelight between the trees, looking for slots in the ground and thebrowse lines in the leaves. When they set foot on the plain andfollowed the shadows of Pa, Minnel and Brandrel, however, the hummingstopped. Trond dragged his feet through the heather.
'Hjoll?’
'Aye?’
'I hate babies. I wantto sit by the river and read my book and never go home. Why do wehave to have a new brother? We were happy before.’
'Dunno.’
'Will I have to lookafter him?’
'Nah. Ma 'n Pa’ll doit.’
'What if they don’twant to? What if he’s really really naughty?’
'We’ll make Minnel andBrandy look after him.’
Satisfied once again,Trond resumed his humming, prodding Hjolrin until he chimed in with a harmony. The song carried them up to the Boar-Chaser Farm. At the gate, a wheaten wolfhound ambled up and butted her head into Hjolrin’s chest, to Trond’sevident amusement, and he tried to wave away the nose snuffling intohis hair.
'Grosta. Down.’
'She missed you.’ Pacalled the wolfhound to his side with a whistle and held open thefront door. 'Come on. Minnel and Brandrel are already in with Ma.’
They followed Grostaupstairs to Ma’s bedroom, where the wolfhound charged past Minnel andinstalled herself in pride of place, muzzle resting on the bed andgazing, with the unfettered adoration only a dog could achieve, atthe mother and child tucked in beneath the blankets.
Ma, more usually foundbutchering a rabbit for dinner, hammering fences into place, orprowling the edge of the farm scaring off wolves, lay with her eyesclosed and her head resting against the pillows. Her arms were still,wrapped around a bundle of cloth which smelled of herbs and soap andthe alchemist’s cheapest healing potions. When Trond thumped againstthe bed and tried to clamber up, only to be tugged back by Brandrel,she opened her eyes and smiled, which was unusual enough in itself.Ma’s fondness normally took the form of chivvying and chiding herbrood with a long-suffering sort of weariness, and if she did smileit was big, toothy, and administered with a slap on the back. Thiswas small and tired, and deeply, untouchably content.
'This is Haaki,’ shesaid. 'Your brother. Come and say hello. No, Trond, stop poking him.’
'I hate him.’
'You haven’t even seenhim yet. Sit here, you can hold him. Hjoll, make sure he looks afterhim. I went through a lot of trouble for that baby and I’m not havingyou drop him in the first five minutes.’
That sounded more likethe Ma they knew. Brandrel ushered Hjolrin forwards to sit on the bedbeside Trond, wriggling in against Ma’s legs and the folds of theblankets until he could offer an arm to rest the baby’s head on. Oncethey were all in position, Minnel moved the bundle reverently fromMa’s arms to Trond’s, and they had their first real sight of theiryoungest brother.
Haaki, one day old,looked to Hjolrin’s eyes much like all the other babies he hadencountered. Small, and puffy, a bit blotchy where the healer hadbeen overzealous with her tools. Cute if a person liked that sort ofthing. Not so much for someone whose head remained full of stagsigns, running the hare, and the perfect trajectory of an arrow inflight, but from the cooing of his siblings he gathered that thisbaby was somehow superior to, for example, the Battle-Born girl onthe farm down the road.
He studied Trondinstead. His other younger brother’s hostility was fading, but heremained skeptical, and settled on disgust when the baby sucked in adeep breath through puckered lips, scowled without opening its eyes,and began to wail. Trond thrust the bundle back so quickly Hjolrinhad to pitch forward to keep his hand beneath the baby’s head.
'Ma, it’s crying!’
'Oh, give him here.Mara forbid you should ever have children, if this is how you handle 'em.’ Ma folded the baby into her arms, where the screams subsidedinto whimpers and then steady breaths. 'Do you still hate him?’
Trond considered thequestion for some time.
'No. He’s all right.’
'Good. You’d betterplay nice with him, understood? That goes for the rest of you, too.’
'Of course, Ma.’
'Aye, Ma.’
'Aye.’
'I guess. If I gotto.’
While his eldersiblings chorused their replies, Haaki yawned and wriggled, contentwith being the centre of attention.
#thank you!#I apologise if the read more doesn't work on mobile#urazakh#hjolrin#trond#haaki#minnel#brandrel#ma boarchaser#pa boarchaser#story#trond would be about the same age amelie is now when haaki was born#he remains in awe of ma for raising five children#one is hard enough
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“Sir, Do You Know Why I Pulled You Over?”
I was twenty and lived in Texas at the time. It had taken me some time to get my license since I didn't have much of an opportunity to actually get one while I grew up in New York City. I didn't have much a reason to actually get one and I didn't anticipate uprooting myself and moving away at the age of eighteen.
Living just South of Houston in League City and working in Galveston, having a car was essential for day to day living. There wasn't convenient mass transit. For about a year and a half I had to rely on co-workers to go to and from work. Eventually I had the opportunity to learn and I finally earned my license.
Two weeks later, I was just finishing shopping at a Wal-Mart. It was a typical hot Summer's day in Texas and I was just wearing a tank top and shorts. I had a few bags in one hand and I was carrying a crate of water over my shoulder with the other. Going through the parking lot I couldn't remember where I parked my car -- typical. It took me some time but I eventually found my car. I lived five minutes from this Wal-Mart and I had already made a few simple trips in the last two weeks. I didn't think this would be any different because why would I?
As I left the parking lot and drove onto the road a police vehicle was behind. I didn't think anything of it. I'm not doing anything wrong, he just happens to be patrolling behind me, right?
As I’m driving I stop at a red traffic light, happily listening to music, not a care in the world and certainly not paying the cop behind me any mind. The traffic lights goes from red to green. The moment the light went to green the lights go off.
I suddenly have this feeling of dread wash over me. "What the fuck did I do!?" immediately vomited out of my mouth. I pulled over not too far past the stop light.
Suspicions
Now I'm waiting for the officer to get out of the vehicle. As he is approaching my car he comes to my passenger side window instead of my driver side, which already threw me off.
"Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked. "No, officer, I don't." I was nervous and confused. "Well, ya look suspicious." he said. That was it. I look suspicious. Not that I did anything wrong. I just looked suspicious. Gee, I wonder why. He had went on to explain it was because he saw me looking through cars in the parking lot when in reality I was finding my car and just walking alongside the cars -- like any human does when walking in a parking lot. "You were also kind of swervin' a bit when I was following you." You backpedaling son of a bitch! "Let me see your license and car insurance information."
I give him my information. Then I wait. I was really surprised. I never thought I could just look "suspicious" and I definitely wasn't swerving. It was a confusing, annoying, irritating, and nerve-wracking moment.
Eventually he comes back to my car.
Glasses
As he comes back to my window he hands me back my information. "Listen, I'mma let'chu off with a warnin'. Be careful not to be swervin', y'hear?" "Yes, officer." He is about to hand me back my driver's license and snatches it back. What the fuck? is what immediately came to mind. He looks at my license and then back to me. "Why are your glasses so close to your face?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he was being serious. "It's just my preference, sir." "Ah, okay." He hands me back my license and then snatches it away again right before I can grab it.
"Preference?” he asked in a manner as if I said something outlandish. “What'chu mean by 'preference'?" I couldn't tell at the time if he was really fucking with me and being a dick or if he was genuinely being serious. His face was straight, stern, and seemed annoyed. "I just prefer to have them close to my face?" I said, completely unsure what would have been the proper response to that question - if that even was a proper response at all.
He finally hands me back my license. "Have a nice day" he said, seeming annoyed. I drive off and feel so relieved it was finally over. Three minutes later I was home.
DWB
In the days to follow all I could think was “How could I look suspicious?” I’m me. It was another day. I wore shorts and a tank top.
When I shared this experience at work an older co-worker of mine lamented and told me I was “DWB.” “DWB? What is that supposed to mean?” “You were driving while brown.” Oh.
I had never experienced much racism in my life but it hit me. The cop had likely profiled me. This was back in 2014. Six years ago. Since then we’ve seen more and more cases of officers showing outright prejudice to people of color. While I didn’t face anything extreme and the fact I lived in Texas in an area that didn’t have many people of color - I don’t think it’s outlandish to think that I really was profiled and I just looked “suspicious” because of the way I look and took a little longer to find my car.
That moment stuck with me and while I don’t want to think every cop has an extreme prejudice and I know there are genuine good cops out there -- you never know and I can’t help but feel anxious from the experience whenever I’m driving and I’m near or pass by a police vehicle.
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Brother to Brother.
It started with a letter.
Osric Melkire walked into the Barber looking not a day older and not a bit different than last they'd met. It was a strange sight... but then, he'd been out of touch for a long while. Anyroad, the midlander took a look about, spotted the beds, and made his way over.
Osric Melkire: "Why in all the seven ruttin' hells," he said with a grin, "are you always bedridden when I could do with some counsel, eh?"
Berrod Armstrong sat cross-legged on the bed -- miserable under boredom. He shifted and sat upright when he spotted Osric and eagerly beckoned even though the other man had been well on his way. The sight of him pulled a wide smile -- though like all his smiles, it was all too brief. "Maybe the Destroyer deemed it tradition."
Osric Melkire chuckled. "Seems t'me that if our places were reversed, you'd be obligated to threaten me with the Arms o' Meed for gettin' m'self in harm's way so often."
Osric Melkire sat down and faced his... friend? Brother? The damned highlander always had a way of knocking him off-kilter.
Berrod Armstrong: "Harm's way -is- our way, I've come to learn. Either way, I feel -fine-, the people here are jus' fussy an' don't want me leavin' till Firesday. Urgh." He took a deep breath as his expression settled from petulant youth to solemn regard, "Now what can I do for you?"
Osric Melkire: "Well, for one thing, y'can quit rushin' this conversation along. My need ain't -that- urgent." He reached up and pulled his turban off only to slip it into the sash that served him as a belt. "How've you 'n' the others been?"
Berrod Armstrong laughed at that and lifted both his hands almost defensively. "Fine fine. Everyone...I'd say...'the same'. You know how it goes. It's quiet, then things get wild, then it's quiet again. As for me, well..." He gestured to his surroundings, "Tried to run the Levinfist and some Resistance extremists decided t'make a mess of it all. Attacked it with numbers. Unlucky for them, strikin' a tournament full o'fighters. Took 'em down. Well...the crowd an' fighters did. I was the first one to go down."
Berrod Armstrong seemed just a -tad- bitter about that last part.
Osric Melkire 's mouth opened a tad, in a silent 'ah' of dawning comprehension. "That explains the mandatory rest 'n' relaxation. Tell you what, I'll distract the chirurgeons 'n' you can limp your way out the arches unseen."
Osric Melkire winked.
Berrod Armstrong snorted. "An' have Sarij roarin' me down? Naw, I'll take the bed. Jus' a couple more days, I'll endure it. Meditate. Paperwork. Pray. Keep buggin' them for news on others who'd come in with me. Stuff like that."
Osric Melkire nodded. "Could do with some o' your patience. Kana's been downright strict with m'own arse. 'To Master Beake's sessions and straight back! No grandstanding, no heroics!' Swear on the Twelve, Berrod, sometimes I miss the insanity."
Berrod Armstrong: "You've got pickneys, dontcha? Insanity ain't gone, jus' a different flavour." Another slight and fleeting smile, "Beautiful flavour. I figure it's gonna take a while to adjust, anyroad. Jus' don't adjust too much, yeah?"
Osric Melkire smirked. "Nah, course not. You either, y'hear?" He cleared his throat. "Anyroad... have a big ask. How well d'you remember Takara?"
Berrod Armstrong opened his mouth slightly, then closed it with a slight shrug. "A face, a voice, lil' bit here an' there. What's up?"
Osric Melkire: "An opportunity t'make some coin. Followed up on a postin', y'know. The usual shite, not leves but more common fare. Turned up for the interview and it's gods-damned Fier. Used t'follow Sunthistle around. That one. Tryin' t'decide whether the surplus gil is worth it. Safety's a concern."
Berrod Armstrong took a deep breath and looked up for a moment. He seemed genuine in his consideration. "Don't work with who you don't trust," He offered eventually. "Usually I'm the one eyein' you for a sign on these things. Is there anythin' else, or is it just the coin that's temptin'?"
Osric Melkire breathed in through his nose and let it out from between his lips. "Aye, there's somethin' else. There's lots. Startin' with things like, 'aye, I'd love t'come back 'n' work for the Agency or whatever it's called now, but the danger ain't worth the benefits,' or 'I'd like t'drop in for a spar or some meditation sometime, but I'm worried that you're buried under a dozen students,' and how about, 'I'm torn between doin' what I crave 'n' bein' the husband and father to the family I love.' So how's that for a crock 'n' a lark, eh? I'm lost as t'how t'live my life, 'n' here I am moanin' and gripin' t'you."
Berrod Armstrong sort of stiffened with shock; his lips went thin -- an achievement, really -- and his eyes opened wide. Once Osric had finished speaking the mental scramble to process it all in the face of his perilously short memory was visible on his face. "Er -- well, the Advent is a whole new company, with lotsa new folks. Lotta what was wrong before ain't even around now -- and you're welcome back, bein' honest. You were one of our best. Spar...? Yes. Student...? I ain't sure, but that ain't because of anythin' you did. I uh. I don't have any students right now. But I think that can be a maybe leanin' to yes. That last one...oof. That last one's tough. I'm in a family that lets me do what I crave...but if there's a choice? Family first. Always. Jus' not to the point you lose who you are. You won't be any good to 'em like that."
Osric Melkire stared down at the boards that made up Berrod's cot. "Might... might swing 'round, now 'n' again, if that's fine... work or no work...." He ran a hand up through his hair and glanced at Armstrong. "Think I'd rather have the meditation 'n' the chats, by the by. Um... Master Beake's been good about, y'know, pointin' out how enormous m'ego had gotten."
Osric Melkire: "...sparrin's good, but not if they're just a pissin' contest for me."
Berrod Armstrong grimaced, "Yeah he has that way. Though for me, it was seein' how talented my damn students were with stuff I'd been strugglin' with for decades." He stuck his neck out and tilted his head down a bit. "I hope you know after all we've been through that you're stronger than me. I jus' got a head start, is all. Still. Meditation an' chats...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot. An' you've always been welcome to swing by, so nothin's changed there."
Osric Melkire made a face. "That's buffalo shite if I've ever smelt it, Berrod. Had a head start, aye, but you were always the one t'grab us by the scruff of our necks when we were gettin' reckless. That's it's own strength."
Berrod Armstrong: "Maybe so, but you're forgettin' that -you- taught me a lot too, 'bout the other side. Cleared that ignorance right outta my head. I'll always be grateful for that. Ended up studyin' it all an' now I can teach it in depth."
Osric Melkire beamed. "Well, that's good t'hear. Means I don't have t'feel like a swivin' arse if I poke fun at your bein' confined to this wooden contraption."
Osric Melkire leaned back and kicked the underside of the cot with one foot.
Berrod Armstrong jumped slightly. "S'not so bad. I thought I got spoiled by cushy stuff, but this thing's actually pretty comfortable. There's very little you should feel like an arse -about-."
Osric Melkire: "Not keepin' in touch is definitely one, but that's a work in progress, that is." He took a deep breath. "Thank you. I mean it, Berrod. About... everythin'." Especially the part he hadn't meant to blurt out, and wasn't going to revisit just yet. "Is there anythin' I can do for you 'n' the others?"
Berrod Armstrong -grinned-. It was a friendly sentiment, but overall rather stupid looking. "Not keepin' touch ain't a crime. Makes the moments we catch up all the better! I'll always welcome you back like you were gone yesterday, that's what brothers do!" The grin boiled down to something a bit more shifty, "...I ain't usually in the market for askin' favours -- me an' the others are fine, but if you can do me a lil' somethin' I'd be much obliged."
Osric Melkire grinned back, but that expression faded as the midlander sobered. "Tell me."
Berrod Armstrong clawed his fingers as a matter of desperation. "Butter rolls. If you can find butter rolls anywhere, I'd owe you forever. Even ones that are a lil' stale, I don't mind. They ain't got anythin' like that here..."
Osric Melkire stared... and burst out laughing. His mirth bent him over, and he held onto one side as if his guts were about to burst forth.
Berrod Armstrong: "Laugh it up all you want! The gagana stew ain't bad at all but it's -missin' the rolls-..."
Osric Melkire: "Butter... butter...." It was hard to catch his breath, but he managed somehow. "...right, right, butter rolls. I'm, uh, headin' back to the Beds later tonight. Might be able t'send a care package t'you through Oriens."
Berrod Armstrong nodded rapidly, then -grimaced-. "...the soldiers should be gettin' that instead o'me, really but I'll have the damn indulgence."
Osric Melkire rolled his eyes as he reached for his turbans. "I'll send enough for the whole soddin' class, professor."
Berrod Armstrong: "A crater full o'hyur an' Roegadyn an’ Miqo’te soldiers...? Good luck!" He laughed at that and shook his head, "All share as much as I can, with my thanks."
Osric Melkire nodded as he slipped his turban back over his head and stood up. "I'll be seein' more o' you, then... brother."
Berrod Armstrong took the salutation with casual delight, "May He guide your path, Brother. Until next time. Travel safe."
Osric Melkire: "Oschon'll see to that. May Rhalgr smite your foes."
Osric Melkire waved farewell.
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Random Starters part 6
"I don't play tough, bright eyes I am tough!"
"Take your time, it could be the last thing you ever say!"
"___, tell ___ to start the car."
" Nobody touches ___, y'hear?"
"I want both of you with me when we pay our little visit."
"I'm gonna get in there an I'm gonna beat him/her if it's the last thing I do!"
"Okay, ___ now it's my turn!"
"Ahh-- Yes and no, sugar."
"Now tell me what you can do for me."
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
"___ doesn't forget things like this not now! Not ever!"
"___, you gotta get me out of this!"
"Blast you, ___ -- Come back here!"
"Nothing can stop ___!"
"I'm back in the world of the living!"
"C'mon, lady/man -- Take a slug of this! It'll calm yer nerves!"
"I'm warnin' ya, sister-- That can be arranged!"
"Yeah, ___. An' there ain't nothin' you can do about it!"
"No! Blast you ___ -- Ya can't do this to me!"
"Not again! Not again!!"
"I haven't forgotten, ___."
" Where do you think you're goin'?"
"You think you can get by on the old moves."
" It's a new world, ___ and while you may not have changed I've embraced the future."
" You can't stop this. I'm building something new, something great."
"Anyone who doesn't stand with ___ will die."
"This is your last chance."
"Thanks to ___, I've seen the world for what it is, and embraced it."
"How'd you know this was my place, ___?"
"Because I know everything, ___."
"I don't care about your pub, ___, and I don't want a piece of it."
"Can I helps you, miss/mister?"
"Guys, maybe this ain't something you need to concern yourselves with."
"TV gives me headaches."
"You don't watch the news?"
"The idea of it does piss me off."
"You respect me?"
"You've been at this a long time, ___."
" ___, ___, ___, ___, and you're still here."
"I want you to hear it from me."
"It's a matter of respect."
" Well, that worked."
" You got it, ___."
"No, ___, I have it."
"I told you: Don't Tell me your problems."
" Dats it?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"He's/She's having a heart attack!"
"I can't have this here."
"The hell was that?"
"I got this."
"Who doesn't leave a note?"
"Can I help you?"
"Now ya dead!"
"You have a lot of balls."
"That's how it happened exactly."
"Yeah, tech ain't me."
"Does it work, ___? I'm payin' good money."
"Jeez, ___! You look 20 years younger!"
" Did -- Did it work?"
"Hey, he's/she's coming this way so beware."
" I'll see that his/her life is cut short."
"I'm ___, I'm the gamest in the land."
"Next time on Dr. Phil: How to talk to your child about spending lots of money."
" Dear sir or madam, We regret to inform you that the office of genetically engineered super-soldiers has denied your request for an ether-soaked rag."
" If God didn't want us to enjoy flying robots that kill people, he wouldn't have given us tiny nipples."
"Future historians will agree that actually getting shot, for real marked the beginning of America's decline."
"The secret to a lasting marriage is communication, communication, and Maximal insertion."
" Awww, sick! I just saw this skater do a 720 kickflip into Samuel L. Jackson!"
"Members of New York's social elite are paying thousands of dollars just to experience sneezing, farting and cumming at the same time."
"As part of his contract, Prince won't preform without Gandalf in his dressing room."
"I learned the hard way that you can't cheer up a grieving friend with a Japanese toaster you can fuck."
#out of enforcers (ooc)#rp memes#ask meme#(most are Spider-Man comic quotes some are from last night's game of cards against humanity with Nightmarionett was here#fuil agus rosan and somanysoulsinone)
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Behind the Proving Grounds: Cecily Reeve
Dear Readers,
Today I have a very special interview for you; I sat down with Cecily Reeve, the lovely lass in charge of the healers who keep the Proving Grounds’ gladiators in good health. Miss Reeve had some interesting insight into what it is like behind the scenes.
C: Miss Reeve, why don't you tell us a bit about your background in the healing arts?
R: Ah... well. I learned all I know from my da— sewing people back together, setting bones, making tinctures and potions and such. I started helping him in the surgery when I was... eh, twelve summers? He'd had some of my older sibling's helping, before me, but I was the only one who didn't get sick when I smelled blood. So. Ended up just sort of staying there.
C: Interesting, I know several of the healers are conjurers or even scholars; do you have any magical talents, or is your healing all medicinal?
R: Ah... purely medicinal, I'm afraid. But someone's gotta keep 'em in ethers.
C: Nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the contrary, in fact. You have your own unique talents, and that you are the chief healer when medicinal healing is so often overlooked in favor of conjury says a lot about your talents. So, what made you decide to work at the Proving Grounds?
R: Ah, well. As you say, practical medicine is... overlooked, yeah? In favor of magical, especially in a place like Ul'dah. Had a lot of trouble finding working, couldn't hack it in the Flames. The usual sob story y'hear. Was living with a friend, and heard that a new sort of gladiator games was lookin' for folks to patch people up. Figured— what the hell, who knows where it'll take me. Maybe they'll let me set a few broken noses. And that was... that.
C: And now you're the lead healer. I'm glad you found a place your talents are appreciated. Tell me though, how has that turned out for you? With some of the injuries we've seen inflicted on the sands, I can only imagine what things are like for you behind the scenes.
R: It gets... it gets right messy at times. Folks with broken arms, smashed heads, bleeding lungs. Not for the faint, that's for sure. It doesn't bother me any— the blood, I mean, that's just the job. But... Sometimes, they.... say stuff, you know? Like, 'will I be okay?' and 'will I walk straight again?' and you just kind of... you don't know, but you're pretty sure, but they don't want pretty sure, they need more than that. And that's... that's hard.
C: I know what you mean all too well. Fresh off the battlefield, I imagine no small number of gladiators come to you and yours with adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Do the fighters ever cause problems while you're trying to care for them?
R: Not... not as such. They're usually pretty quiet, all things considered— if they're conscious at all. They snap at each other a little but keep peace. Sometimes they refuse treatment, an' that's like... What c'n we do? We ask a couple times, but if they keep sayin' no, we just let 'em be. The real problem we've had is with patrons in the healing corner, tossing their weight around. I won't name names, but a certain lady made her business pretty clear and had to be asked to leave— not that she listened.
C: I can certainly see a couple of the patrons doing that. A couple weeks ago, after a particularly trying evening, where I hear you were the only healer on staff, Lady Owu hired a decent number of new healers. How was that evening for you, having to manage this all by yourself? and how have things improved since getting the added help?
R: That was right hard, I won't lie. I was runnin' ragged between... eight fighters, I think it was? A lot. Too many. Some folk had to make use of their own healers, an' some folk... I did my best, an' all, but gods it was a near thing. After she gave leave to hire new folks, it's tenfold better. Got a good crew of regulars and part-timers, and they got a whole host of talents to help out— an' make sure there's less 'pretty sure' and more 'completely sure' about folks' injuries.
C: I'm glad to know the new hires are helping, and that things are looking better for you all. Well Miss Reeve, I believe that is all of my questions. Is there anything you would like to add before we conclude the interview?
R: I... hm. Dunno! I guess... if there's any healers out there looking for work, send word to House Owu, because we can always use a few extra hands!
I would add a disclaimer to that request for healers; having seen the condition some of the fighters end up in, healing for the Proving Grounds is not for the faint of heart. But, if you think you have the stomach for it then, by all means, do take Miss Reeve up on her offer.
--C. Blythe
@mateusprovinggrounds @cecilyreeve
#ffxiv#ffxiv rp#ffxiv roleplay#ffxiv mateus#mateus rp#mateus#mateus roleplay#the mateus minute#mateusprovinggrounds#gladiator#Investigative Journalism#Investigative Reporting#behind the scenes#just healer things
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2. New School
Philemon seems to enjoy seeing his Wild Cards live on with their lives…
insp.
Persona 4 Golden X FeMC!Reader
———————————————————————————————————–
The next day…
The next morning you woke up and the smell of eggs and toast wafted through the air after your bathroom necessities. You find Nanako serving breakfast at the table. Here father was no where to be seen.
“Good morning.” Chirped Nanako as she sat on a chair. “Let’s eat.” You and Nanako ate the eggs and toast and you have to admit, it was delicious. Was she the one who made this?
“Where’s your dad?” You asked.
“At work. He always work late.” She drank her orange juice. You nodded as the two of you ate in silence. The dream had bothered you but its best not to dwell on it too much.
“You’re starting school today, right?” She asked.
“Yes, I am.” You replied, taking a small bite of the egg.
“Good. I’m going to my school too so lets go together.” She said happily. You nodded, being the member of the family, you had to protect Nanako. And besides, you don’t know your way around this place anyway.
After breakfast, the two of you are walking towards the Samegawa Flood Plain where it leads to, and the only, high school in Inaba.
“Your school is that way. Just go straight ahead. I gotta go to my school now so be careful.” Nanako bid goodbye as she went to her school. You walked forward, following Nanako’s directions as you head towards a crossing. Suddenly a ringing sound followed by rubber, well, rubbing on cement as a “LOOK OUT!” yelled behind your back. Luckily your reflexes had done great as you dodged the incoming bike hitting the garbage cans. An orange-haired male probably a student crashed his place where the sun don’t shine.
“I should probably leave him be.” You muttered as he cursed, continuing your walk.
Morning…
“All right! Shut yer traps!” The teacher known as Mr. Morooka said as he lectured on and on about innocence and what not. Finding out that he was you homeroom teacher literally blew you mind. Seriously, like he probably understood teenagers.
“Go on and tell ‘em your name.” You tried to restrain the anger in your voice.
“Its (Full name)-"
"DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW WHERE YOUR LOOKING!” You yelped by Morooka’s suddenly raised his voice. Then ran on and on about you staring at a boy near the window. Honestly, you wanted to punch the guy in the face!
“Uh, Mr. Morooka? Can she sit here next to me?” A girl’s voice said, raising her arm.
“Huh? Well alright.“ He calmed down a bit. "Y'hear that? Go sit over there.” You walked through the few chairs as you placed your bag next to a short-haired girl wearing a green jacket.
“He’s the worst isn’t he?” She whispered. “Too bad your stuck with him for the rest of the year. We call him King Moron.”
“That’s a pretty fitting name.” You admitted.
“Heh, I know, huh?"
>You listened intently to the lecture.
After school…
You were packing your things as the intercom ended. It said a while ago that there was an incident near the school and everyone was allowed to go home early. To be honest, this place might be a bit exciting, but not enough to fuel your boredom. When you were about to stand up, the boy who ran his bike over approached you.
"Hey, uh, sorry I almost ran over you last time.” He said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m Hanamura Yosuke. Nice to meet you."
”(Full name).“ You said blankly and picked up your bag. Yosuke stopped you. Before he could do anything, the short-haired girl butted-in together with a long-haired girl.
"Hey! Don’t start anything with her, y'hear?” She said defensively. “I’m Satonaka Chie. I’m the girl who sits next to you in class, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” You said. Chie nodded.
“And this is my friend, Yukiko.” She gestured to the long-haired girl as she did a traditional bow.
“I’m Amagi Yukiko and… I’m sorry for approaching you so suddenly.”
“No need to apologize Yukiko! Geez!” Chie exclaimed, embarassed. “Anyway why don’t we walk you home?” Yosuke intervened.
“But I got to her first! And this is an 'I’m sorry’ for almost running her over!” Soon he and Chie began bickering with one another.
“If I pick any one of you, will you stop arguing please?” You said loud enough for them to hear. The two stopped for a while then nodded. “Then I choose Yosuke.” Chie gaped while Yosuke fist-pumped the air.
“Alright! Lets go (Name)-san!” He grabbed your wrist as you both walked out of the classroom, leaving a befuddled Chie.
‘Is someone seriously falling for Yosuke?!’
The two of you are walking down road where Yosuke crashed his bike. You learned that Yukiko runs a famous family inn and the specialty in this place is beefsteak which really surprised you because you haven’t seen a single cow in this place.
“So my dad runs Junes which makes me the next target in the shopping district.”
“Why?”
“Because some stores are shutting down because we stole their customers. Honestly Junes is really ruining a lot of lives.” He had a distant look on his face as you continued your walk through the streets. “So why did you pick me?” You looked at him.
“Why did you take me to walk with you?”
“I honestly just wanted to go home. I don’t care who I go with.” You said bluntly. Yosuke sweat-dropped.
“For a cute girl, you can be a real jerk, huh?” He laughed as you heard something in the distance.
“Are those… Police cars?” Yosuke asked. You got closer and saw few police cars and an ambulance blaring. When you squinted a little more, you could see the familiar face of your uncle.
“Dojima-san, what happened?” You asked as you approached him. He seemed a bit surprised and confused at your sudden appearance, especially with someone else.
“Huh? Aren’t you supposed to be in school, and who’s this?” He glared lightly at Yosuke.
“I-I’m Hanamura Yosuke, sir. The school dismissed us early because of an incident near there.” He trembled slightly. Dojima sighed heavily, bringing a stick of smoke to his lips.
“Listen, this is a crime scene so its best that you go home.” You nodded as you and Yosuke walked out of the scene.
“Hey!” He caught the attention of Yosuke. “Didn’t you hear? I said go home.”
“But-”
“I mean now.” His voice held such strictness that it made Yosuke run for it. You sighed.
>You ended up walking home alone.
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Sacrifices: Sixteen
It hurts. Everything hurts. Am I dying? Is this what dying feels like? I feel like I'm dying. And what's that noise? Oh, frijoles, it hurts. Ugh, and that noise. Who's shouting? It kind of sounds like... Sans? And I think Toriel too. What happened? Where am I? I seemed to be in the void.
"Frisk?" An all so familiar voice penetrated the darkness.
Chara? She's alive!
"This still works, thank heavens."
What's going on?
"You split your soul into thirds, remember?"
Oh... Right. Wait, how are you still talking in my mind then?
"Perhaps it's because we're sharing a soul."
What about Asriel then?
"I don't know."
...
"How are you feeling, partner?"
Everything hurts. A lot.
"I would imagine so." I smiled grimly at that comment.
I can hear a lot of noise, it's making my head throb. Who's yelling?
"Smiley trash bag is losing it." Of course, he is.
Are you okay?
"Well, I'm able to converse with you while he's flipping a switch, so what does that tell you? Don't worry about me, Toriel wouldn't let him lay one phalange on me." I laughed at that a little, but quickly grew solemn.
How is she?
"Not good. She's worried about you, Frisk."
...
"If you would wake up, I'm sure that would be a tremendous help to the situation."
That's not as easy as it sounds. My soul... My soul was damaged beyond repair.
"Frisk, I had meant it when I said saving Azzie was enough."
It wasn't enough for me. I wasn't going to leave you behind. I already failed once. I wasn't going to do it again.
"And look where it has gotten you! You are on the brink of death; your mother is broken and everyone else that loves and cares for you is in pain. And for what? A homicidal flower and a psychotic freak?"
Flowey and Asriel are NOT the same person. You know that.
"And me? If anyone deserves to die, I'm the one."
You already did that.
"Yes, and then I tried to take everyone else with me."
You were hurting, Chara.
"I killed everyone, through you."
Everyone deserves another chance. Everyone except me.
"..."
I didn't fall into the Underground for happy reasons, Chara. You've seen my mind, my memories. You know. I came to die. And... and so did you.
"But we didn't."
No, we did not. You didn't, at least not right away.
"Neither did you. But you came back. If you wanted to die so badly, why did you come back?"
Hold on, how have you been managing a conversation with me when all heck is breaking loose? I attempted to change the subject, not wanting to discuss it much further.
"Magic. Now, answer my question."
You've seen my memories.
"That doesn't mean I know."
...I became curious. I didn't want to hurt anyone, so I just kept coming back until I was able to move on. I learned the plight of the monsters and thought maybe I could save them. I grew to care for all of them, and that pushed me forward. I had to break the monsters free, to save them. The first time around, I thought I had. But I had failed. Failed to save you and Asriel. I had once again failed to save the one that mattered to me. At the time, she had been the only one that mattered. And I had failed, oh I failed.
"Frisk..."
When I did the Genocide run, I was blinded by my failure. You convinced me it was the only way... So, I complied. And again, I failed. To what cost? The life of everyone I loved. This time... This time I didn't fail. I saved the monsters, and I saved you and Azzie, too. If I died now, I wouldn't care. I've made it up to her. Plus, dying would only accomplish what I had originally planned in the first place. Then I would be able to be with her again.
"You may not care, but everyone else does! And I'm sure she wouldn't want you to die either."
After everything I put them through? I think it's better off I don't make it. Even if they don't remember, well, Sans does, but I guess my passing will be his vengeance. Everyone's free, everyone's been saved. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does.
"You're such a hypocrite! What about YOUR second chance? What about the people who love and care for YOU? Toriel, Papyrus and the others? Sans, even." I could tell Chara was getting fed up with me. I don't blame her, I am too.
My being here just hurts everyone. They'll learn to live their happy ending without me.
"It was you who enabled them to have said happy ending in the first place! Dying now, don't you think that'll take a piece of that away? They would rather still be trapped in the Underground with you than live on the surface with you gone."
...How do you know that?
"Are you serious right now?! You're in denial. You know what I'm saying is true. Don't ignore me just to make it easier on you to let go of everything."
...
"To answer your question from earlier, everything has settled down. We've explained it to Sans. Though he's still pretty ticked off. Now, listen, Frisk. Pause for a moment and listen."
I grew quiet and tried to hone in on the noise from outside the void.
"Oh, my child. Won't you come back to me? I couldn't bear it if I lost you."
Toriel... I'm so sorry.
"HUMAN,"
Papyrus was there, too?
"EVERYONE IS WORRIED ABOUT YOU. PLEASE WAKE UP. OR... OR... WE AREN'T FRIENDS ANYMORE! AND YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO HAVE MY DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI. I... HUMAN, PLEASE. I BELIEVE IN YOU, THAT YOU CAN DO IT. COME BACK."
Oh, Pappy...
"Frisk... Don't give up now. Stay DETERMINED."
I smiled weakly as I heard that. The same words Asgore had spoken to me every time I died and was at the CONTINUE or RESET screen.
"Hey, punk!"
Undyne?
"Don't you go dying on me, y'hear? As your bestie, you don't have my permission!"
I laughed slightly at that.
"F-Frisk?"
The stutter told me it was Alphys. Still, I had to strain my ears to make out what she was saying. I guess that's because she's whispering.
"I-I’m sorry. I s-should've never t-told you..."
Oh, Alphy, it's not your fault. I'm the one who decided to do it...
"frisk?"
It was Sans.
"kid? please, wake up. come back. oh, god, come back."
I'm sorry.
"look, lets froggit everything that happened, okay?"
His weak attempt of a pun saddened me. He was trying so hard...
"jus’… jus’ come back ta me, sweet pea. i... i love ya. we all do."
I was silent, stunned.
"You've got a lot of people here that care for you, partner. Don't do this. Come back."
My resolve broke.
I... I... Okay. Okay. Alright. You're right. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.
"Say that when you wake up."
I laughed shakily. All the love coming from everyone... I could feel it. It gave me DETERMINATION. The knowledge that there were people who cared if I died, I let that thought sink in, embracing it rather than pushing it away. Chara's right. I think... I think that she would want me to live, just as much as the others do.
I'm sorry, I thought with a sad smile. I almost failed you once again.
I t ' s o K a y , F r i S k . I f o r G A v e y o U l o N g A g o . N o w , a W a k E n . E V e r Y o n e ' s w a I t i n G.
Before I could react, my eyes flew open. I gasped and sat up abruptly, bright hospital lights blinding me momentarily. Pain engulfed my body once again. It's good to be alive, I thought dryly.
"FRISK!"
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