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loganlermanstanaccount · 10 months

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Rigor Mortis (part 3)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 2, Part 4

summary: A bad day turns even worse. Miguel surprises you.

warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of grief, very vague mention of domestic violence and abuse.

recommended reading: the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais, and the song Ophelia by the lumineers.

a/n: i lowkey suck at communicating my "big" ideas so i really really hope this makes sense!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

they were here, she says,

You’ve had your share of bad days.

Oh God , enough to fill an A4 binder with. For example, knocking out that tooth when you were twelve. A butterfly effect of fuck ups that led to a scuffle at school: blood in your mouth, a tooth on the ground, and a looong suspension. You received quite the earful at home, that day.

And then there was telling your parents you had dropped out of college. Telling them you were moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend. Breaking up with said boyfriend in your favourite diner; thus sullying Pam’s waffles and pancakes with the bitter taste of… oh-fuck-I-don’t-know-how-I’ll-afford-an-apartment-now. Oh, and heartbreak – although that wasn’t as immediate.

Scratch that, the day of the breakup had been fairly mundane. Pleasant, even. Jamie had an off day, and you only had a few lectures. He didn’t tell you, of course, so meeting him in the apartment was a surprise. You’re home earlier than usual, and you can’t quite bear to wake him up; slumped on the sofa like an old cat. He’s tired, lectures and clerkships running him ragged for the past few years. Only a year out until residency, with bags under his eyes as proof, and you see him less and less. All things considered, you’re glad to spend the rest of the day with him.

You’d spent too long after the break up analysing the days leading up to it: for a sign, something in his behaviour that would’ve warned you. And so, you remember it quite vividly: kicking your shoes off, putting your bag down, and sinking into the sofa next to him. You curl into him, looking up at his face: steady, tempered breathing. Something at your chest, solid and heavy. He looks peaceful, happy; and you haven't seen that side of him in quite a while.

When you shift against him, you knock against his shoulder. Jamie stirs, groggy, and eyes adjusting to the light. The first thing he sees as he wakes is you; romantic, in theory. His expression is etched into your subconscious; stark and stiff like a marble statue, or a tombstone. A flash of disappointment, lip drawn in what seemed like disgust – but only for a moment.

" Morning , baby." You squeeze his side, and take his hand into yours. That look ; it's gone almost as quickly as it came.

"Thought…" He frowns, fighting dregs of sleep. "I thought you would be back later."

"Nope." You give him a smile and he returns with one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He puts a hand on your cheek.

"Morning," Probably tired, he sighs deeply. You move on with the day. And he breaks up with you, not even 6 hours later.

You had had 4 years of that: good days, bad days, but most of them had been… mundane. Boring. Not quite the heat and intensity of true love, as the movies had gaslighted you into believing in.

You like the old black and white ones the best. Old fashioned, old-timey folk; declarations of love in tinny transatlantic accents. Suddenly, you’re on the floor of your childhood bedroom; eyes wide at the Sound of Music. Maria and Von Trapp hand in hand: her dress billowing, the flash of white glove on the small of her back. Love, love, love; and your lack of it.

You feel its loss all the same.

Despite all your efforts – including a dash to the station that could rival an Olympic sprinter – you were late to your first lecture. Sweaty, out of breath, and ambushed with a pen and paper; thrust into your hands on arrival. You look around to see dozens of heads down, scribbling furiously. A surprise test – and you’re late.

Hand aching, you barely finish within the two hours, after bullshitting your way through at least half of the questions. By the looks of the people streaming out of the hall; faces rumpled and grimacing; you’re not the only one. However, it does little to comfort you. You’re sure you're the only one failing so spectacularly, with the semester already half over.

You'd smacked your leg on the coffee table on the way out and a book had slammed to the floor. An art book, the kind in a model home - and you know damn well Miguel's not an enthusiast. The image sticks for some reason, leg aching as you trudge to your next class. When he gives you that blank look; the memory of men gone past is haunting – dead-eyed, and blank, like eyes cut out of a painting. You wonder if a Van Gogh would feel the same with the brilliant blue of eyes slashed out.

Nevertheless, you feel like lead. Off

to your next class, and it's going over material passed out the day before; which you didn’t have the time to look over. The professor drones on; voice monotonous and gravelly. Struggling to keep up, you sink into your seat – tapping away at your laptop, whatever you can get down. You pick at your lip, unravelling; unfurling like the tip of a slashed rope.

That's what you’re waiting for, you think: sandbags clattering down from stage left, to bring the rest of this whole farce down.

A sinking feeling, that starts at your chest and makes its way to the tops of your fingers and toes, leaves you numb for the rest of the day. Dread, like a shadow, at your heels in the corridors, across the courtyard, all around campus. Another lecture, and you make it in time for labs, barely, but there’s no time to go over notes; what you managed to scrape together in preparation. And of course , your lab partner’s sick, because that’s just the kind of day you’re having. It’s hectic, doing the work of two people with only the scraps you’ve cobbled together.

The pressure mounts. Like liquid in that flask you weren’t meant to stopper; and you just might end up like its remnants on the counter. Glass everywhere but where it should be. For a good grade, it helps to be organised: everything in its place, always. Except it isn’t, and you’ve fucked it up, again . It means the results don’t match up in your lab book, and another hour staring at liquid decanting, monitoring temperatures. Staring at stark white walls, with achy legs.

You step out whilst machines run in your stead, and shed your lab coat. It’s hot and stuffy in there but out in the corridor, you can finally breathe. Forehead on the cool wall, it all stops for a moment. The persistent buzz of your phone, sat in the pocket of your trousers, creeps into the quiet.

Absent-mindedly, you turn it on with a click. The buzzing stops. You’ve just missed a call from Miguel. It’s odd, he doesn’t usually call, but it’s the little box underneath the notification that makes you pause. A message, from a number you thought you’d blocked – that you should’ve blocked.

From:Jamie <3

Hey

From:Jamie <3

We should meet. I’ve still got some of your things in the apartment.

Your blood runs cold. Dread, like a shadow; its hand wrapped your neck. You can’t breathe, stuck under the weight of something at your chest. You can’t breathe, the walls close in. We should meet , he says. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world; just friends catching up over a coffee. Like you didn’t watch him carve out a chunk of your heart with a rusty spoon.

A panic attack, and you’re awkwardly hunched over by the wall, phone in hand. Someone will find you here, lying on the vinyl floor in Block B, spread eagle between lab 6 and 7. Dramatic timing, but if it kills you; you’ll find a way to haunt your ex's ass for the foreseeable future. And Miguel’s too, because if you’re having a bad day; then somewhere out there, he’s having a good one.

~~~

The apartment is still when Miguel gets back – unusually so. You’re not on the sofa, watching a mindless soap opera, or howling some song in the shower. And he’s had to deal with that most days for the past few weeks, a break in the peace and quiet he’s so carefully cultivated. Rigorous routine, they keep him together. He needed it; the way myth needs a martyr, the way flowers on a small grave needs a body. A tick-tick-tick in his head, that drives him a little less crazy after a morning run, or a good meal when he comes home. A countdown, he thinks, a mechanical clock whirring and puttering with a shake of its gears. He feels them stutter and start, slowing down, but not quite stopping. An ache so deep, he feels its creak with every step.

Absent-mindedly, he looks around the empty apartment, pulling at his ears.

When he was younger, Gabi would pull at his ears, to get him out of a book. Reading, always reading, whenever he could. At the dinner table, when his mamá would rap his knuckles with a wooden spoon and chuckle lightly at his little grimace. No en la mesa, Miguelito. Not at the table, Miggy. Léeme más tarde – read it to me later.

It was when he got his braces, and picked up a slight lisp. He stopped talking for a while, not completely; but a lot less, not as interactive in lessons. And it was always little Miguel, at the front of the class with his hand up to answer. It didn’t help that Gabi poked fun at him, often sneaking up to him to hiss in his ear: palms pressed together with a slithering motion, and then a strike to his ribs like una víbora - a viper , struggling to say his S’s. They’d fight because of it after, tousling on the floor of their bedroom in a mass of limbs, like pythons squeezing prey. Or at least, until their mamá rushed to separate them.

She didn’t like it when her boys fought; so they’d been forced to make up every time. He still has the scars to prove it.

Car magazines at first, and then the newspaper, whatever book he had picked up at the library that week. Even with his lisp, his mother made sure he read to her, and sometimes to Gabi as well, at least once a week. Looking back, she was never perfect; the things he knows now about his dear mamá, and her visage tumbles like Ozymandias in the sand. Her mother, married to a piece-of-shit mechanic; and his mother, elbow deep in the oil spill. That’s the funny thing about love, he thinks. Love, and the lack of it; dripping through the cracks, passed on through generations. Maybe mamá felt the gears shuddering in her chest. He hopes Gabi was saved from that burden.

A small voice at the back of his mind tells him: it’s not enough. Doesn’t explain the little boy pulling at his ears, in Miguel’s jacket and dress shoes.

A glimpse in the reflection of a shiny pan on the side table, and he looks like shit. Eyebags, a permanent scowl, shadowy lines that prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s ironic, crows feet without the penchant for laughing. He thinks you’d find it funny. The pink and purple of a setting sun spills in through windows and makes him sigh. It’s late, and you’re still not home.

God, you're strange; sticking your nose where you shouldn't. Disrupting the calm of his apartment. A sanctuary, and you've got your grubby paws all over it. Your shit is all over the place; pun-based mugs in the cabinet, chewed pen lids with no pens in sight, a blanket on the couch. The same blanket, a ratty old thing, that he usually meets you wrapped in when he gets back. A creature of habit, he folds it up; trying to ignore the whispers of your perfume, sweet and heady on the fabric.

He gets dressed, starting with dinner; knife on a chopping board cutting onions and peppers into cubes. It's therapeutic, the steady thud ringing out into the kitchen. Quiet, for a fleeting moment. But the worry, it sticks ; despite his better judgement. Before he changes his mind, he clicks open his phone to call you. It rings out – you don’t pick up.

The urge to call again is surprisingly troublesome, so he shoves it down with a piece of tortilla. It sits in his chest, regardless.

~~~

You trudge into the apartment. Squelch seems more accurate, sopping wet as you step out of waterlogged trainers. It was an inopportune time to wear jeans and forget a jacket – and you fight the urge to wring out onto the wooden planks. Miguel would kill you; the place was already falling apart, and water-warped floorboards might just be the last straw.

It’s thundering outside; a torrential downpour you’d just been dragged through. Dragged, half-running through streets-turned-streams, with nothing but a tank top and hoodie on your back. And you must look a sight , eyes bleary and slick with rainwater. The bag heavy on your back goes first, slipped off your shoulder and on the floor next to the coffee table with a thunk . You’re unzipping the flimsy canvas, inspecting its contents. A soaked through textbook, clumps of loose paper. You’re ready to cry when you see what's happened to the pages of your lab book; bleeding ink that’s only half-legible. But it’s the state of your laptop that makes your chest really heave and knees weak.

It’s slick with rainwater, and the sandwich you’d forgotten to eat, smeared across its fans. Caked on, more accurately; an odd sludge that you try your best to wipe away. You put it on the coffee table and your hand shakes as you press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead.

You sink onto the floor, head in your hands between the coffee table and the couch. Everything was on there: photos from senior prom, end of semester projects – your whole life. You have to dig your teeth into your bottom lip to bite back a scream.

Miguel peers from the kitchen, watching your silent breakdown. Quiet, and so still, with only the slight shake of shoulders to tell him that something is wrong. He glances at your half-opened laptop. He’d eaten already, clearing up what remains of his dinner and this is the sight he’s greeted with: the lady of the lake, lain between the reeds.

He shakes the image out of his head, and walks over. You feel a tentative prod, and look up.

“...I called you,” He says lightly, scratching at his neck.

You blink up at him. He thinks you look like a painting, watery and forlorn, framed in the yellow light of the soft bulbs.

“I was busy,” It’s not said with malice, nor as lilting as your usual sarcasm. Plain, simple. Busy. Your head slumps back into the little hollow you’ve made with your arms.

And so he sits, shoulders brushing against yours. He’s frustratingly patient, presence warm and comfortable despite… well, despite everything.

You can’t help it. Popping back up, you state, “You never call, though.”

“You’re never this late home.” Home. The word is heavy, knocks you onto your heels.

“So?” You shrug. “Could’ve been out with friends, or at a club–”

Laughter slips out like apples loose in a bag, spills onto the floor. Crisp, sweet; but you glare at him all the same.

“You don’t have friends.” He says it with the remnants of a smile, teasing. A challenge, and you’re more than happy to accept.

“ Not true , fuckface.” It is. You'd lost track of most of your friends after moving – and all the ones you made here? Your friends were Jamie's friends, and they chose him in the divorce. " You don't have any friends."

"I do ."

"You don't." It's your turn to scoff. "It's a Friday night and you're in here, washing up and planning to go to bed at a reasonable time."

"I'm an adult, doesn't mean I don't have–"

"The ones you fuck don't count." And then you pinch the bridge of your nose. "God forbid, if that's how you treat your friends…"

He laughs, properly, and you feel it in your chest too: the kind of laughter that bubbles like little breaths rising to the top of a lake.

“M’serious.” He says it in between gasping breaths and you try to steady your own giggles. "And, I have a friend who could take a look at your laptop, if you wanted."

His eyes flick over to the crime scene besides you. It's sweet, but.. "It's gone, Miguel, I know. You don't need to… try and make me feel better."

" Chula ," He flicks the deep lines forming at your brow. You look up and he says, softly, "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to get you off of the floor so I can mop up that puddle."

With the way he says it, with that little smile, you don't believe him.

Now he's got your attention, he says, "You could've skipped that 9:00am. Or just been late. Don't think it would've mattered."

"Maybe." You shake your head. "M'not the best student. I'm blindingly… average. Just wanted it to be different, this year."

Your voice crackles, leaves something in the air he can't quite name. Quiet, again, except this time it's thicker. Smoke, ash, rolling clouds of melancholy in the little front room. For once, he doesn't know what to say.

You've got your head back on the sofa now, with a deep sigh. You look at the ceiling, and he's looking at you. It's the first time he's able to really study your features, trace the outline of your lips and sloping cheekbone. Your lashes, damp with little droplets of water, look crystalline in the light. Sparkling. Like the paintings depicted in the hefty book sat on his coffee table. He's read that one, twice , cover-to-cover in a fit of… insanity, maybe. He's not a man of frills and fancy, didn't really get it; nor why Gabi had given him the book in the first place. It felt like a filler piece, something to put on the little table and forget about, or to prop up a wooden leg. But that's not how his brother works, frustratingly convoluted. It's stupid, Miguel thought. Everything had to mean something , or what was it good for?

But looking at you, here, like this ; it clicks. Reaching over for the book, he leans it against the flat of his thigh. And you see it in the corner of your eye, watching as he flicks through the pages. Filled with art, it's the kind of thing on a table in a model apartment: a space-filler in a false home. When you first came here, the starkness and severity of the space had stuck. To you, the book had only reinforced it. Who was Miguel? A serial killer for all you know, stocking fluff pieces and coffee table books; only pretending to be human.

Finally, he stops, finger over a specific place. A double page spread, of surprisingly good quality.

He clicks his tongue. " This one. "

You follow his finger. A woman in a lake doesn't do it justice. It's beautiful, but it doesn't mean anything to you.

" Ophelia, John Everett Mills, 1852 ." He reads out the little label at the bottom of the image. "Like from Hamlet."

You shrug. "I don't…?"

"Well, she's in love with Hamlet, and then her father's murdered, Hamlet fucks off; and she's left heartbroken, goes mad because of it , arguably–"

"I've taken tenth grade English, Miguel. I don't get what that has to do with anything."

"She drowns herself. Also arguably, to be fair," He chews his lip, thinking. "Slipped off the bark of a willow tree, into a brook. Incapable of her own distress, or something. Drowns. Do you know how horrible drowning feels? How violent? And yet–"

He taps the page, and you come a little closer. Beautiful. She's beautiful.

"I'll admit it, I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare. Gabi – my brother – is way better at this stuff than me. Drama and intrigue and–" He gestures vaguely. "– love . That's why he likes it, apparently. And I… I know someone who really liked this page; I think it was the colours, or the flowers…? She said it looked like a photo, and that the woman looked so pretty in the water."

He pauses, dead-eyed. He's rambling, only taking a breath to compose himself." I… didn't have the heart to tell her that Ophelia, in this painting, is dead. Dead as a fucking doornail. Dragged through still water, sentenced to death by her passivity and grief – but you wouldn't know it."

Unconsciously, you trace the outline of her hair with your finger; swirling locs that blend into muddy reflections. She's on her back and fully dressed; a beaded skirt billowing out into the water. On her back and looking up, like you were on the sofa just a moment ago. Oh. Oh . You blink at the image. Flowers, peppered around to frame Ophelia in her watery grave. It doesn't look like a grave from where you're sitting, but there's a body in the water all the same.

There's a lump in your throat. Grief; the loss of 4 years of your life in a middling relationship, the aftermath of dead eyes and brilliant blue slashed from a canvas frame. Grief, rising to the surface like a bloated carcass. You thought you'd bound its ankles to cinder blocks and tossed it in a river long ago.

"I'm probably overstepping. For that, I'm sorry, and I mean it. But I think there's something else. I..I hear you rattling around at night; and sometimes, when I look at you..."

Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill over. You’re hearing him but you don’t quite understand. Does he know? God, does he know?

"...it reminds me of this painting. You remind me of Ophelia .”

He sighs, turning to you.

“I know how it feels. And I think this shit is going to kill you, if you're not careful."

~~~

He doesn't talk about it. He runs off to start the shower, bundles you into towels and leaves you reeling. God, it's like you've been shot – barely a 10 minute conversation and he's cracked open your ribs to root around in what's left of you. He sees you; wades through the undergrowth and cuts through the bulllshit - he sees you.

You couldn't even answer. That's what stings the most.

You’ve settled on the sofa, cross-legged and still fresh from the shower. There’s a documentary on the TV; mindless background to Miguel clattering in the kitchen. He’s putting together some leftovers, even though you insisted that you weren’t hungry, that you’ve already eaten. Well , he had pointed to the gunk caked onto your laptop, wasn’t that the problem in the first place?

He’s good at it; wraps you up in the blanket you always keep draped on the cushions, and hands you a full plate. Wordlessly, because you suppose he’s said everything he needed to. Dutifully, he takes care of you, without a word; the strain of cutting you open on the coffee table clearly too much to bear.

You thank him, and he settles on the armchair opposite, mug of coffee in hand. The gloom of the TV bathes him in light, cuts his cheekbones and jaw just so. One of your mugs in his lap, and he's in a thick knitted sweater. His hair kisses the tops of his lashes, but he brushes it away. You swallow thickly, and when he turns, you look away.

“...You okay?” He asks, confused.

You nod, unable to speak. He gives you a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled up like crepe paper. You return it with one of your own.

He sees you. Finally, you see him too.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #angst #lots of angst #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara angst

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lowgothree · 2 months

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009. ༺ALWAYS, ALWAYS༻∘

a/n: last chapter why am i kinda sad, lol😬

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: happy ending 🥳. smut (am i going to hell for this? idk probably). reader is damn near mute at the start. they're both so very down bad. l-bombs. this is almost double the length of the other chapters so y'all better love me.

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

she half expected you to shut the door in her face. she wouldn’t have blamed you if you did — but you didn’t. you opened the door and you’re listening.

what she thought she could get from olivia, that same thing she’d been craving and fighting for years, she gets so easily with you. just by your eyes meeting hers. you’re looking at her again — albeit in annoyance and hurt — but it’s still you and it’s still her. how it’s supposed to be. and there it is again. that feeling she had been uselessly chasing with olivia –– that pull. a feeling she only gets with you. she’s addicted to it. the way her heart begins to beat faster, how her eyes seem to be fixated on your pretty face, the way her body reposes in the wake of you. she feels so alive when she’s near you.

she whispers your name, unlike the last time you’d heard her say it –– guilt ridden and shameful –– she says it in pure relief. her shoulders visibly relax when you don’t shut the door on her. she visibly relaxes at just the sight of you. as if her time away from her took away her ability to breathe and seeing you again, right in front of her and beautifully you, gave her back her air.

“she isn’t you…” paige repeats, longing for you to say something. anything.

“what do you want me to say, paige?” you roll your eyes. “you want her? go have her.”

“i don’t.” she shakes her head, stepping forward, close enough that she could almost feel that familiar warmth of your body again. “i want you.”

her gaze disrupts any calm you might’ve felt. her words cleave the quiet. it leaves you silent. completely silent.

“you were right. i was running…because i was scared.” she swallows thickly and you pause. she was scared? “but i’m not afraid anymore. i’m done running. i’m here and i won’t leave again. never again.”

“scared of what?” you almost don’t recognize your own voice, too in shock to process your words before they leave the gap between your lips.

“of this.” she gestures between the two of you. “i’ve never felt the way i do when i’m with you before. i just want another chance. i want to be yours and i want to spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”

you hold your breath, remembering just how much you missed her. you missed her touch, her smell, her face, and the way she looked at you. you’re frozen at her words, at the tender look of desperation she gives you but you shake your head despite yourself. “i can’t be with you if you aren’t sure…”

the statement makes her heart sink. she had brought this on herself, she knew that. but it didn’t make it hurt any less. she doesn't like that she was the source of your anguish, it pained her. she’ll do anything to take that pain away.

the frown on your face said it all; that she’d hurt you, that you were upset, and that you cared about her. that’s what she had relied on. it gives her the courage to reach out and touch you, to give herself that closeness she’d been craving since the minute she left. she grabs your waist and smiles at the way your body recognizes her touch. “i’m sure.”

suddenly your mouth felt dry. sure, you had played this exact scenario over and over again in your head but you never expected it to actually happen. so you stay silent, desperately searching for words that never leave your mouth.

“baby, i promise. i’m so sure. please.” she stresses, she’s sure.

you’re staring at her, in shock and heart pounding, having a mental debate. holy shit say something. anything. but you can’t.

“just let me fix it…” she leans in, testing to see if you’ll pull away. you don’t. “let me deserve you.”

you nod, finally able to speak again. finding yourself unable to deny her –– to deny yourself. “okay..”

and then she leans in more, letting her lips take their place on yours. she pulls you even closer and you walk backwards into the apartment, paige shuts the door behind herself. she pulls away from the kiss to smile at you.

“i love you…” she whispers and you pause again, body almost malfunctioning. she what??

paige takes your silence as discomfort and immediately backs away from you with widened eyes. “oh…um, i’m sorry –– i mean, it’s true but you don’t have to say it back or anything i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i just, fuck.”

you grab her hand, smiling softly at her. every hair on your body standing in the wake of her confession. “i love you too…”

at that moment paige feels almost every emotion; happiness at your words, anger at herself for running from this, guilt because she had hurt you. but you kiss all those thoughts away until her brain can only ideate one concrete picture: you. always you.

she can’t help it, she grabs your face and presses her lips to yours again. your kiss is hesitant. on one hand, she doesn’t deserve to taste you after what she’d done to you. on the other hand, she tastes so good. fuck, she taste like yours.

she wanted to atone, to show you that she’d realized the error in her ways. she wanted you to forgive her completely for letting her fears hurt you. because you taught her something she’d never dreamed of learning before you. you taught her how to pay homage.

“you know what else i missed?” she whispers in your ear making you laugh despite yourself. paige could always take the edge off. always able to make you laugh no matter the circumstances.

“i’m sure i could guess…” you let your hand reach underneath the hem of her hoodie so you could feel the bare skin of her waist. she laughs too, with her whole chest and it’s beautiful. you’re just staring at her, basking in her euphoria and your heart swells. you’re in love bad. “you’re so pretty…” you mumble, unable to stop yourself.

she smiles wide, all teeth and red cheeks. “stop…”

you shake your head. “no…you’re my girlfriend now so i can call you pretty as much i want to.”

her grin only seems to widen if possible and you can’t help but mirror it. “i love hearing that…”

“yeah?”

“mhm…i love hearing pretty much anything you say but especially that.” she kisses your jaw and you bring your hand from under her shirt to the back of her neck. “my girlfriend…” she whispers in awe and it makes you laugh again.

she starts to kiss your neck and your laughter immediately ceases. you also missed the sex. a lot.

you hold onto her for stability as your breathing quickens. “you never…told me what that other thing you missed was?”

“thought you were gonna guess?”

“i said i could guess.” you hum, pulling her face from your neck so you could hover your lips over hers. “but i wanna hear you say it.”

“well, you just forgave me so i wasn’t sure if it was a good time –– ”

“what do you have against makeup sex?” you tilt your head and she laughs. she doesn’t respond immediately but she places a chaste kiss on your mouth before she sucks in a breath.

“your room or mine?”

you don’t even answer her question. it doesn’t really matter, but hers is closer. you kiss her again as you back into her bedroom.

she always liked being this close to you. close enough to hear your heavy breathing and to feel the warmth of your skin under her palms. she pulls you even closer. she gently pushes you down onto her bed, straddling you. “did you miss having me like this, baby?”

you shudder, nodding. “mhm…” and then you take a good look at her attire. “are you hot?”

she smirks. “you tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re annoying.”

paige chuckles but nods. “yeah…normally it’s cold as shit in this apartment but for some reason it’s literally hell in here.”

“ac broke. and you’re kinda overdressed.” you lay back on her comforter, rubbing her thighs. “i’m surprised you didn’t say anything sooner. you love to complain.”

“i just got everything i want…i have nothing to complain about.” she smiles and then groans, not thinking twice about taking her hoodie off. “gotta get that fixed, babe…” she starts kissing up your neck and then tugs at your shirt for you to take it off.

you lift it over your head with a hum before laying back down so she can resume her kisses. “yeah. maintenance guy comes tomorrow.”

“good.” she nods in acknowledgement. “take off your pants.”

“i wanna touch you first…” you whisper but paige just shakes her head.

“no…i want to give you a proper apology.”

you chuckle. “well, i’m not gonna say no.”

you watch her body in anticipation as she climbs off of you and slowly takes your pants off. she settles between your legs, locking her arms around your waist to keep you pressed firmly down into the bed and your breathing quickens. she kisses your stomach and then both your thighs, sucking little reminders into the soft flesh so that you can remember how she felt tomorrow. it makes you squirm but her grip never falters.

“stop teasing.” you buck your hips but she holds you there. that’s another thing you loved about paige. she’s so strong. when she finally does put her mouth where you want it, she’s lazing about it. but still exact.

she eats you out with precision only a woman begging for forgiveness could have. you can’t help the sounds you’re making but you’re far too turned on to be embarrassed by them.

it’s all you can do to slump in her hold and just watch her, the way her mouth devours you and the way her eyes watch your every reaction. the sight is so lewd you could cum from just watching her work.

“feels so good…” you mewl, clinging to the bed sheets so hard your fingers cramp. she looks up at you, reaching for your hand to lace your fingers with hers.

she knows it does. she learned exactly how to please you and she was proud of that. she knew exactly how you liked it.

she knows when you’re about to come. almost before you do. she makes sure to continue doing exactly what she’s doing because she knows that’s what you’d be begging her for if you could speak right now. but she’s happy all you can do is be pretty and take it. take her apology and cling onto her.

she rides it out for you, only pulling away when you’re too sensitive for her to keep going. she smiles at you. it’s smug.

“shut up…” your chest is heaving and there’s a thin layer of sweat coating your skin. she feels almost prideful that she did that to you. she gets the sudden, intense desire to touch you so she does. she reaches up to caress your cheek.

“so beautiful…” her voice is starstruck again and you chuckle tiredly.

“enough.” you whisper tiredly. “come here…your turn.”

she slowly moves closer to you, you lick your lips when you notice how red she is. how turned on she is just from pleasing you.

you help her out of her pants, and then you sit up so she can straddle you again. she hovers over you and you stare at her for a moment. “what do you want?”

she knows better than to be shy about it. she trusts you too much to be shy about it. “your fingers. please.”

you can’t help but snicker.

“please? when did you get manners?”

“i’ve always had manners.” she mutters.

“you sure about that?”

she nods, eyes sparkling at you and you poorly attempt to bite back a smile.

“cute…but save it for azzi or something.” you chuckle before you circle her clit with two fingers. she immediately groans and the sound is mesmerizing. “feel good?”

she nods again and you don’t even try to hide your smile this time. “how good?”

she sucks in a deep breath when you pick up your pace a little. “really good. don’t stop.”

“wasn’t planning on it.”

“i kinda expected you to get me all worked up and then leave me like this as punishment.” she half laughs, half whimpers.

“hmm…i didn’t think about that. maybe i should just –– “ you slip your fingers away from her and she whines but you chuckle softly. “i’m just kidding…i’d never do that to you.”

“and miss a chance to torture me? i don’t believe you.” she can barely speak in full sentences with how good your hand feels on her.

“and miss a chance to see how pretty you look when you come?” you mock her tone of voice when you rebuttal. “never.”

she moans, something she rarely does and this time it’s your turn to be smug. she hides her face in your neck, embarrassed by how quickly you can weaken her.

as much as you want to make her look at you, you don’t want to embarrass her further so you just move your fingers harder against her.

“you smell really good…” paige mutters in between soft moans and then she cringes. “sorry, that’s probably weird to say right now.”

you dismiss her, fingers never changing pace. “no…it’s okay. thank you. you’re really sweet when you wanna be.”

“i’m always sweet.” her voice is practically slurred as she starts to feel the knots building up in her stomach. “i’m so close…”

you keep going until her legs start shaking, pulling your hand away from her and kissing her sweetly.

she pushes you to lay down again so she can wrap her arm around you and cuddle you. for a moment, you’re both silent. just settling in the afterglow, kissing softly here and there and smiling at each other. until you speak.

“you know…” you pant against her lips, she rubs your thighs and hums as you pull away slightly to talk. “i’ve wanted you since you moved in here…”

“yeah? why didn’t you say anything?” she chuckles, pulling you impossibly closer.

“i don’t know. so many reasons.” you stare into her eyes, meeting her smile. she leans in to kiss your jaw and then whispers in your ears.

“name a few.”

you roll your eyes, they’re all obvious. “olivia for starters –– ” she groans, hiding her face in your neck which makes you laugh. “plus, i didn’t wanna rock the boat.”

she shakes her head, pulling back to look you in the eyes. her voice is pure silk when she whispers softly, “from the moment i first saw you…that ship sailed.”

you snicker, putting a hand over paige’s face. “cheesy…”

“you love it.” she kisses your neck again. “you love me.”

you nod in agreement but that isn’t enough. most likely, it never will be. she lets her hands trail your waist exploratorily. “say it.”

you shudder at the command in her voice. even if you could deny her, why would you want to?

“i love you...”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader #god i'm so awkward abt this chapter too!!#might deactivate my whole shit rn #we'll see

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nezuscribe · 2 years

Text

so...bakugo has a problem with spoiling you. and at first, bakugo thinks that sort of thing is outrageous. he’s not a fan of pda, gifts, or anniversaries. that could probably be partial because he never had a good enough girlfriend that lasted long enough to celebrate these things with, so he just never saw the need for them.

all of his friends would gush about how much they looked forward to the cards from their significant other, the flowers, and the shower of compliments, but he didn’t seem to affect by it that much.

and, sure, maybe sometimes he wanted to spend it with somebody. sometimes he longed to hold somebody’s hand when he was working late into the early hours of the morning, a comfort he had longed for ever since he outgrew the childish need for touch. but, he was a busy man. he couldn’t outwardly look for something like that until it fell right into his lap.

yeah, well, that was until you.

and when you literally bumped into him on an early morning jog, looking off somewhere else to notice the 6’5 foot brute coming your way. he wasn’t sure how he managed to work his way through the awkward small talk, especially when you were such a cheerful person (at five in the morning, no less), and he had a date with you the following night. it turned into frequent meetings at each other's apartments, you spending some nights at his office, sprawled over the couch in the corner as you ranted about the annoying women at your work who kept piling shifts on you. and, much to katsuki's chagrin, he fell for you. in the way he promised himself he’d never fall for anybody. but it's fine, he'll be there to catch himself until it gets too much.

until he couldn't and you became his only lifeline. falling didn't seem to be so bad if somebody was gonna be there to catch him - undeniably cheesy, he's well aware - and he finally understood why kiri was raging on and on about his girlfriend. finally.

"for you," he said one night, a black velvet sitting on his palm, open-faced as he looked up at you eagerly, a tad bit of worry in his eyes as he was terrified you weren't going to like it.

and he was suddenly becoming a little nauseous because you weren't saying anything and although the pearl necklace was really light it was sinking into his hand.

"um, babe...." you pause, your fingers dancing over the chain of the necklace as you worriedly look up into his red eyes, "am i forgetting something?"

and he shook his head, taking the initiative as he moves behind you, taking the pieces of delicate jewelry out from its box as he gets to work with his fingers, surprisingly nimble as he latches the lock together, his hands shaking a bit as he tries to catch a glimpse of your view in mirror adjacent to the two of you.

"nah," he presses a hot kiss to the place where your neck meets your collarbone, snuggling deep into it, almost feeling feral at the smell of your perfume as his arms pull you closer to his chest, "just a little somethin' i thought ya'd like."

so after that, he's dead set on gifts, after all, he's just got so much money and nothing to spend it on, so you've become the prime focus of his bank account.

and every time you tell him you don't want gifts, that you try to push them off, he doesn't listen, saying that it's the least he could do since he can't actually give you the world (no matter how much he wants to). he knows you're not materialistic, far from it, but he doubts there's somebody in the world that actively hates receiving gifts.

if your eyes linger on a channel coat or burberry perfume he's quick to put it in the cart. he'll observe you, see what things you secretly try to fawn over, and makes sure to surprise it with it the next time you come to his office. pulling it out of his desk drawer, wrapped in a bow as he winks with his signature, "for you."

because the thing is, bakugo doesn't really know how to show his love. he's not good with his words or emotions because he's still working on those, but even if your scowl is lined with an all-grateful smile whenever he gifts you something, he knows he must be doing something right.

just give him some time, and he'll figure everything else out. he just needs to learn how you show affection, and learn other ways of expressing it (minus the gifts, he's not giving that up).

so, for now, take those prada boots without complaint. 'cause there's a pair of versace pumps waiting for you next to your nightstand. all wrapped and pretty, just for you, from your loving 'ki.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo drabble #bakugou drabble #bakugo x you #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #mha drabble

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dragongirl642 · 2 months

Text

The eyes are the windows to the soul

Author note:

I've been inspired by a few doppelganger x readers on here.

Monster lovers, come get your food. This is a little doppelganger/shapeshifter/mimic monster x human gn reader.

Trigger warnings: mention of domestic violence/abuse. Uncanny valley.

Masterlist

First > Next

--------------------------Start---------------------------

It's been two days. Two days since you last saw your boyfriend, Cameron. Two days of recovery and tension.

The bruises on your cheek and shoulder are purple now. It's an effort to avoid looking at them when you brush your teeth or take a shower.

He does this sometimes, disappears for a day to drink with friends. Usually after one of his outbursts.

It wasn't like this in the beginning. He was sweet and kind, a little jealous but it was cute how much he seemed to care about you. But after about a year into the relationship, little moments of jealousy turned into possesive outbursts, constant warm affection was slowly replaced with moments of cold indifference.

The sound of a key in the lock sets your heart racing.

You scramble to the hallway, positioning yourself by the stairs just as the door opens. "Welcome home." Coy and grateful, just how he likes you.

He pauses in the doorway, just staring at you.

You fidget, fighting the urge to flinch when he suddenly strides towards you, hands coming up to clasp your arms. The smell of vodka is faint, nowhere near as strong as usual.

There is something strange in the way he looks at you, eyes roving over your face like he's trying to memorise your expression.

He doesn't say anything. Just stares.

The silence starts to weight heavy on you, like a weighted blanket cocooning your limbs. Desperate for a positive reactive, you speak. "I've missed you."

The tension suddenly lifts as a smile cracks his face and he places a kiss to your forehead. "To hear you say that, makes me so," a kiss to you cheek, "so," a kiss to the other cheek, "happy," finally, a kiss to the tip of your nose.

He moves to the side and places a gentle hand on the small of your back and gestures into the living room. "Shall we?"

--------------------------Time Skip----------------------

This evening has been strange. He is too affectionate. Too calm. Almost like how he was in the beginning and yet not at all like he used to be.

Sometimes he unnerves you with his choice of words. He keeps joking about how you look good enough to eat and he calls your cooking as delicious as you.

You almost split a coke on his knee and he just laughed. Called you his clumsy cutie and went to the kitchen to wipe himself off. No twitching fingers or sign of anger.

Sometimes, you catch him smiling out the corner of your eye. Something about his face haunts you. Eyes too wide and blacked out. Smile tearing his face apart, stretching from earlobe to earlobe. But when you turn your head to look, he looks normal, fixing you with a gentle, loving smile.

After washing the dishes together, he leads you in swaying around the kitchen to the tune trickling from the radio.

It feels like the honeymoon phase all over again. A part of you is celebrating this change, finally he seems to be the old Cameron you fell in love with again...but a smaller (strangely louder) part of you is screaming that something is wrong, something bad is coming.

The questions pile up inside you until, just before getting ready for bed, you can't stop yourself from reaching out for Cameron's arm.

He turns to face you with a wide smile.

"Um, Cameron." You're full of nervous energy, fidgeting with the edge of your top. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course, luv." He gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face. A gentle loving smile crinkling the skin around his blue almost silvery eyes.

The realisation suddenly hits you. Your feel a sinking feeling, like a rock just dropped into your stomach.

Cameron's eyes are brown.

First > Next

#doppelganger x reader #mimic x reader #monster x reader #shapeshifter x reader #x reader #monster x human #doppelganger #mimic #shapeshifter #human reader #monster boyfriend #monster x you #the eyes are the windows to the soul

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

Only Mine

Mafia leader!yandere OC x Y/N

Summary: you're falling apart and the only one that can help you is the very same mafia leader that caused you this fright. You refuse to ask him for help. But when you get desperate, you seem to have no other choice.

Warnings: threats, manipulation, slightest hint of suggestive, mentions of death, possessiveness

Word count: 0.8k

The nights when you can't sleep are the worst. You hate the feeling that grow in your chest everytime it happens. You need someone's arms around you to avoid you falling apart. Bits and pieces of you are flaking off, fragments falling to the wooden floor. What happens if you wait too long? Will there be nothing left of you? What shell is it thats falling off? The one that resists Silas? Or the one that makes you, you. Whatever part of you it is, you don't want to lose it. You'll have to call for him.

Shakily you pull yourself out of the comforting satin sheets and head for the door. Trying to open it is no use. It's locked. However, you know that there are two guards on the other side. Silas has your safety on the top of his priority lists. He's an odd character you can't understand. Maybe you don't want to. Instead, you knock gently, regretting it right away. Too late to back out now.

"Yes, miss?" one of the guards asks as he meets your pleading, shameful eyes.

"I-I ...", you start, but close your mouth again. Your cheeks burn.

"Are you alright?" the other guard asks

"I need to see Silas."

"You can't, the boss is in a meeting-"

Panic starts to fill your body. You have to see Silas! Who knows how long you have until every piece of you have disappeared? It's pathetic and you know it, but you can't stop it. Your fogged up mind needs someone to hold before you break and the only one you know in this house is Silas. Those weeks down in the basement really messed you up.

"I have to meet him!" you raise your voice.

"That isn't possible."

You try pushing yourself through the two unreasonable men. They grab you and push you back. You're not going to leave the bedroom. Their fingers bury in your skin.

"Let me go!" you shout. "Don't touch me!"

"Get back in your room now-"

"What's going on here?"

The voice makes the three of them look towards the end of the corridor. Silas is walking towards them like a giant. His body language alone is enough to frighten them.

"Let my girl go or I'll cut your hands off", Silas warns them.

They let you go at once. You stumble backwards and start walking back into the bedroom. You run your hand through your hair and take a deep breath. Silas pushes through into the bedroom, giving the guards a nasty look. He closes the door behind him, muttering something about them not going to live long. You suddenly feel bad and that your own worries doesn't matter as much. It suddenly feels so stupid to risk the guards lives just because you're a pathetic little bitch.

"What happened, baby?" the mafia leader asks and walk over to you. "Why did you need me?"

"I just feel ... lonely ... I guess ...", you mutter. "But now I kind of regret it all. You're not actually going to hurt them, right?"

"Of course I will. They laid their filthy hands on you."

"They tried to stop me from leaving the room you told me to stay in."

Silas sighs and rolls his eyes. You sit down on the bed and tilt your head slightly, finding it amusing how he can't take his own words.

"Don't look at me like that, little girl unless you want to end up in the basement again", he warns.

You look down in your lap again and swallow. Silas walk over to you and sink down on his knees in front of you. He leans his head on your knees and looks up at you.

"What did you want?" he asks with a playful hint in his eyes. "Do you want me to make you feel good? Have you finally come to your senses?"

"That was not it."

"It wasn't?"

He seems genuinly surprised. You fumble over your words. Why would he think ...?

"I want a hug", you say.

"A hug? That's easy."

He stands up and embraces you in his strong arms. You hate how he makes you feel at ease for now, hate how he's gotten into your head. You lean your head against his shoulder. Tomorrow, you'll resent him again, you promise yourself. But for tonight, you need him close to fill the horrifying void in your heart. Tomorrow, you'll come to your senses.

"My pretty girl", he murmurs against your hair. "Only mine. Say it. Say that you're only mine."

"I'm only yours", you whisper, not believing your own words but say them to avoid pain.

"And the fuckers that try to take you from me will be heavily punished. No one touches what's mine. Look at you, so sweet and fragile. I knew I made a right choice taking you." He caresses your hair. "Just sleep, baby. I will hold you."

And that's where you fall asleep that night. You hope it'll be the last time you fall asleep in his arms, but you know it won't. Now that he's understood that you need him for something else rather than pleasure, he will make sure to treasure you like you were his own little porcelain doll. Only safe in his arms.

#yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere talks #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere x oc #yandere x you #yandere mafia #yandere x reader #yandere short stories #yandere fiction #yandere fic #yandere fluff #Silas OC

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batneko · 8 months

Text

Kart Racing bowuigi time, inspired by that infamous Luigi death glare

SO, Luigi takes racing very seriously, much more than most of the other pastimes he and his brother get involved with. Maybe because it's something he knows he's good at, maybe because he likes machines, maybe, somehow, going fast gets his blood pumping in a way that's not fear-based for once. It doesn't really come to much since everybody else mostly races for fun, but whenever Bowser starts trash-talking Luigi can't help but talk back.

Bowser doesn't mind, in fact it gets him even more fired up, and pretty soon the two of them have become rivals in this one very specific area. Once Mario is sure it's just trash-talking and Bowser doesn't mean Luigi any harm, he's even sort of supportive of it. Rivalry is almost like friendship and Bowser could use more of those.

Then Luigi shows up on race day with an injured arm. Bowser is furious. The injury won't keep Luigi from racing, but it'll definitely slow down his reaction time. How's Bowser supposed to gloat about his victory when Luigi's at a disadvantage? Who does he need to hurt in retaliation for this insult to his abilities?

Luigi is having none of this and replies that he could beat Bowser without using his injured arm at all. Bowser says fine! Prove it! Letting it rest will help you heal faster anyway!

(wait a minute)

Bowser does beat Luigi's time that race, but just like he thought gloating isn't any fun at all. Time passes, another race is comes up (maybe it's a tournament? I don't know how actual car racing structure works) and this time Bowser corners Luigi in an empty room to make sure Luigi is fighting fit.

There's trash talk, there's arguing, there's threats, and then they're looking at each other with their hearts pounding and blood pumping and suddenly all that passion turns into a kiss.

Making out, really. They only break apart when they both need to breathe, and even then Luigi can't remember why this is a bad idea. Bowser thinks it's the best idea he's had in years and suggests meeting up after his victory so he can show Luigi a new way to get pounded.

"First of all, who says it's new to me? And second, who says you're going to win?"

After some more back-and-forth, Luigi says, "Wanna bet?" Bowser says hell yeah he does, and they agree that whoever gets the better time gets to top.

It takes a while before what he's doing sinks in. Luigi never really thought of himself as someone who would treat sex like a game. The fact that it's Bowser he's playing with is a whole other level. But... is it really so bad, as long as they both want it? Just an agreement between two single adults. It doesn't have to be weird.

It's weird. But it's good, too.

After that the bet is on every time they race. From the outside it looks like Luigi and Bowser's rivalry has cooled a little bit. There's less trash talk, though it's no less pointed. A lot seems to be communicated between the two of them with just a glance and a gesture. If they hadn't already been seeking each other out every time it would almost be suspicious.

It's gone on for long enough that Luigi and Bowser have started getting more... creative when it comes to their bets, when something goes wrong. The track was pretty far from most of their homes, so the gang decided to stay overnight before and after the actual race.

And Mario catches Luigi sneaking back into his hotel room in the wee hours of the morning, with a very suspicious limp.

Luigi tries to brush it off, but there's a smug grin on Bowser's face when they're heading out, and he makes a joke being on Luigi's tail, and all of a sudden Luigi has to hold Mario back from throwing hands right then and there.

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowigi #bowluigi #luigi #bowser #super mario bros #mario kart #free idea #green shell #long post #kinda

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infiniteko · 3 months

Text

Sinking Into Silence

[PB's past dream, 7minute 11 second long audio. It was supposed to be our one and only YouTube video]

Rediscovering and finding myself was both underwhelming and overwhelming simultaneously. Picture yourself submerged in a bottomless ocean, absent of any sense of direction – no up, no down, no left, no right. You're just here, somewhere, sinking in water, uncertain of your destination, sinking further away from a surface you don't even remember. How you reached this point has been forgotten; it just happened. You're not sinking rapidly; it's a slow descent that feels like stagnation or are you actually staying at one place? The water above feels heavier by the second, yet it's not making it difficult to catch your breath.

Attempts to swim upward prove to be pointless; your limbs, physically and mentally drained, feel too heavy to make a difference but they also feel way too light at the same time. So, you let it happen, aware it's neither good nor bad, not worsening or improving your situation, not potentially leading to your survival or death. Yet, you feel helpless – or so you thought.

The more you sunk, the more you could not tell the difference between who you called "myself" and your "surrounding". It became one blur. One Presence or Knowing of "I am here". But are you truly the one sinking? You see your body but look deeper. Who is seeing it? Who are you?

Now, imagine suddenly, amidst absolute nothingness and silence, an inexplicable realization strikes. Is this truly how it's meant to be? It can't be. In the distance, I spot a vague presence, or at least I thought so. I swim towards it, fueled by a sudden burst of energy. However, as I swim, it seems to either recede or stay still. Confusion sets in. What's happening?

"Should I swim, sink or disappear?"

Despite mental and physical exhaustion, every fiber in me wants to surrender. Yet, the desire for freedom keeps me going. "It's right there, I just need to reach it. I need to try harder", you thought to yourself. The Presence remains stationary, and you continue swimming. The exhaustion intensifies, but the Presence doesn't budge. In this endless void, you're left with silence – no sounds, no sensations, only sinking further.

"I'm alright. Nothing is happening"

And then, you notice: what you're swimming towards is what you already are. The freedom you seek in that silence is the same silence and freedom that is already here now.

You are not merging with silence, you are it.

What did it take to realize that?

- PB

#awareness #floating #beingness #being #void #emptiness #brahman #consciousness #nothingness #limitless #boundless #freedom

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stirthewaters · 1 year

Note

Can you make a “ You Miss Her “ Part two please? tysm🤍

You Miss Her Pt. 2

SUMMARY: A couple of days after your falling out with Wednesday, you receive news of a 'Werewolf Crisis' in Enid's dorm, and go to check it out.

WARNINGS: Angst. Slightly less than the first part, but still angst nonetheless. There is some fluff at the end tho :)

A/N: Send in those requests, homies! I loved this series and would enjoy some more opportunities to work on writing angst.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And you were right. You were imagining things. But when the voice fades into the crackling of leaves, you realize that something is coming towards you. Standing and wiping your face, you turn to see Thing scuttling towards you, something scribbled on his palm.

The disembodied hand leaps onto your thigh, showing his palm to you so that you can see the message scrawled onto it;

'WEREWOLF CRISIS; please come! Urgent!! -Enid.'

Emotions mixed, you look at Thing.

"Are you sure she's having a crisis?"

The hand signs frantically, and you sigh, nodding your head.

"All right, I'm coming. But only for Enid."

You follow the surprisingly fast hand back to the academy and into Ophelia Hall. Realizing suddenly that Wednesday might be inside, you stop suddenly, and turn to look at Thing.

"Thing, is Wednesday in there?"

Thing signs no.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, and open the door, walking in.

Immediately you realize that something's off. Enid is nowhere to be found, and Wednesday is standing on the other side of the room, facing a board covered in pictures of gory body parts.

Letting out a hiss of air from in between your teeth, you realize that this was a trick, you turn to exit the room, but Thing has locked the door, and scuttled off with the key.

"Thing! You stupid piece of--" You groan, kicking the door.

Wednesday turns to face you. Her deadpan expression is only slightly varied by her lifted eyebrows and you can see a flash of guilt in her eye.

"Y/N..." she starts, striding towards you.

"I-" immediately you start backing away. Conflict has never been your strong suit. Heck the one time you were forced into conflict back in seventh grade, you almost started bawling.

And part of you is scared. Scared to talk to her because you're scared as hell that she'll say those words again.

"We need to talk." Wednesday says, studying you. She stands opposite you, clearly keeping her distance because she can tell that you're nervous.

For the past couple of days, Wednesday has felt like hell too. As soon as you left the dorm room, she wanted to kick herself. She knew that she had been having a bad day, but that was no reason to lash out at you, especially when you were just trying to help.

And every time she saw you in the halls, Wednesday felt her hurtful words ringing in the back of her head, and she felt an emotion that she didn't feel often; guilt.

For the past few days, Enid had been trying to convince Wednesday to talk to you; but Wednesday shrugged off her attempts, since every time she had tried to approach you, you had made some lame excuse that you had to grab something from your dorm, or that you were late for a class that wasn't even happening.

And even though she wouldn't admit it; she was worried, because, observant as ever, she could tell that her words had struck deep. Your bubbly personality seemed to have disappeared instantly.

And that tiny emotion of guilt continued to keep a hold on her day and night, and she didn't like it one bit.

So now that you're standing here, facing her, that small voice of guilt is starting to speak louder and louder.

"We need to talk," Wednesday repeats.

You look at her, and then back at the door. There's nowhere to go. You slowly slump against the door, sinking onto the floor in defeat.

"Five minutes. And if Thing doesn't come back here in those five minutes, I'll strangle him," you say, not looking at her.

Wednesday hesitates for a second. She's never been good at apologies, nor using her words to express how she's feeling; you've made her feel things that she does not want to feel but if she doesn't admit them, then she might lose you for good.

"I--I wanted to apologize," she begins, clearing her throat. "What I said was-uncalled for and rude, and you didn't deserve it, nor is it true. I never wished to make you upset."

You look up at her, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Wednesday...what you said hurt."

Wednesday inhales, realizing that her suspicions were right. "You know what I said wasn't true."

You don't say anything, wiping the tears from your eyes; you don't want to see her crying now.

"Please forgive me," Wednesday realized that she was close to begging; something that she would never do unless in an emergency. "Y/N...the way you make me feel is indescribable. You do...you do mean something to me."

You look up at her. Her deadpan expression is slightly crumpled; and her eyes are a bit glossy.

"If...if you say something like that ever again...I won't be giving you a second chance." You mumble, letting out a small sigh of relief and exhaustion. You go to stand, but you suddenly sway dizzily; clearly the fact that you haven't been sleeping or eating has done something to you.

Wednesday approaches now, and she offers you her hand, which, blushing, you take. When you stand, your face is inches from hers.

"You're tired and hungry," she observes, quirking an eyebrow at you. "I assume that I'm the reason for this." You don't say anything.

"Y/N, I truly am sorry. I did not mean one word of what I said to you, nor was it true," Wednesday says, taking her hand to gently tilt your face upwards to meet her gaze. You feel your heart beginning to pound. "Forgive me."

You nod. You want to hug her; but you know that she isn't one for touch so you hold your hand awkwardly out for her to shake.

She raises an eyebrow at you with a bit of a smirk.

"I know just as well as you that you want a hug right now," she deadpans. With a sigh, she holds open her arms; she won't admit it but she knows that you do give some pretty good hugs.

#wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednsday addams #wednesday series #adams family #wednesday x you #angst with a happy ending #heavy angst #pt

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chiriwritesstuff · 16 days

Text

The New Girl in Tinseltown; Chapter 3 - Fake Smile

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: It's the weekend after, and it's back to reality for Doll and Dieter. Of course, the public is loving their sudden nuptials, but what about the important people in Doll's inner circle? Will they believe her through her lies? Meanwhile, Dieter will stop at nothing to prove that what they have between the two of them is real...

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut lite, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dieter and his fucking paintbrush, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, we introduce a few more characters, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, Someone gets a name reveal, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 7.3K (it seems like I can just go on and on and on...)

Song Inspo: ‘Fake Smile’ - Ariana Grande

The first time you found yourself in hot water with the media, it was all because of a little misunderstanding.

A stupid one, yes, but in Hollywood, things like simple misunderstandings were paydirt in the world of the paparazzi. What was even more fucked up was the more stupid the situation, the more they ate it up, and the more money they could make from you making a complete ass of yourself.

TMZ News Flash: Up and-coming starlet arrested for assault of a homeless woman, maintains that it was a misunderstanding-

It was a few months into your career, and you found yourself recovering from a harsh casting call that left you feeling defeated. With your cap pulled low and sunglasses shielding your eyes, you dodged the paparazzi lurking outside the building where the audition was being held. Being labeled Hollywood's newest darling had thrust you into the spotlight faster than you could prepare for, and it felt like everyone was just waiting for you to slip up. It was only a matter of time...

“Look, Alex,” you whisper into your phone, pulling your sweater tight around you, and looking at your surroundings nervously. “I’m not going to land every role I audition for, it was just a bad case of nerves… anyway, give Mum and Dad my love, I’m about to head into the next audition-“ you tell your sister, checking your watch as you hurriedly make your way towards your destination a few buildings down. “… I love you, too. Speak soon, alright? Tell Zoe I love her.”

Lost in your thoughts and the frustration of the day, you hurried along the sidewalk, oblivious to the world around you, when, suddenly, you are accosted by a homeless woman, her cup outstretched, her plea for spare change hanging in the air.

"Some change?" she asks, her cup dangerously close to your face. "I'm cold and hungry-"

You reach into your purse, fumbling for some coins. "Here you go," you offer, dropping them into her cup without a second thought.

Instead of the dull thud of the change hitting the bottom of the cup, you're met with the tell-tell sound of a tiny splash, the homeless woman's eyes widening in shock and tiny horror.

"What the fuck, lady?" she screams, looking at her ruined cup of coffee. "Just because I'm out here begging for money doesn't mean you can be an asshole about it!"

"Oh shit, I am so sorry... wait, let me just run to Starbucks and get you a new one-" you stammer, your eyes scanning for the nearest coffee shop. You pull your sunglasses down slightly, squinting as you spot a café on the corner.

The woman tsks at you, her expression shifting as she suddenly recognizes you. "Hey, aren't you that actress from that movie-"

Your heart sinks as you freeze, the knot in your throat tightening. "Uh, yeah, that's me," you admit, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. "I really didn't mean to, I thought the cup was empty-"

"No way!" she exclaims, her voice drawing attention as she gestures wildly. "You're one of those celebs with the paparazzi on your tail, aren't you? Hey, you there!" She points to a man hiding nearby with a camera, catching his attention. "She just dumped her change in my coffee cup!"

"No, please," you whisper urgently to the woman, ducking as the man approaches, camera poised. "I just lost them, please, I can't deal with-"

"Doll! Doll!" he shouts, snapping pictures rapidly as you try to shield yourself. "How'd the audition go? What movie was it for?"

"No comment," you respond curtly, raising your arms to block the shots, the homeless woman's protests growing louder in the background.

"She just tossed her coins in my cup, what a clueless bimbo!" she shouts, gripping your hand and pulling you closer. "Hey, where do you think you're going? You still owe me a coffee!"

"Please, I don't want to make a scene-" You struggle to break free, but in the chaos, your purse swings out, accidentally smacking the woman across the face as you tumble to the ground.

"You bitch!" she screams, clutching her cheek. "Did you see that? She attacked me-"

"No, it was an accident, I swear!" you plead, but your voice is drowned out by the relentless clicks of the cameras.

Later, at the police station on La Cienega.

"Doll," your publicist murmurs as he guides you out the back entrance of the police station, shielding your face from the frenzy of paparazzi. With a protective arm around you, he ushers you into the waiting car, pushing aside the relentless onslaught of cameras.

Once safely inside the Lincoln Continental, you both exhale in relief as Nathan orders the driver to go, the sound of the engine drowning out the chaos outside.

"I warned you about this," Nathan sighs, glancing at his buzzing phone. "I told you things would get crazy after 'Little Star' hit theaters. You can't afford to be careless now. What were you thinking, getting yourself into a situation like that?"

"I don't know, Nate," you sigh, "... maybe I wasn't thinking," you admit, frustration evident in your voice. "How was I supposed to know that trying to do a good deed was going to backfire like this? It's not like I approached her, she took me by surprise!"

"But did you need to assault the poor woman?" he exclaims, his brow raised in disbelief.

You give him a look, crossing your arms across your chest as you gaze outside the car window. 'I apologized, alright? It's not like she's the one suffering from all of this, I missed the audition, only because I thought I was doing her a favor! Fuck!"

Nathan shakes his head, his expression a mixture of concern and exasperation. "Look. I get it, but you're not just anyone anymore, Doll. Every move you make is under a microscope. We need damage control, fast... and maybe some media training while we're at it. It's like trying to tame a fucking feral cat or something-"

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Yeah, I know. We'll figure it out. But for now, let's just get out of here."

As the car pulls away from the chaos outside, you sink back into your seat, feeling the exhaustion seeping into your bones. This was just the beginning of a long battle against public scrutiny, and you knew it was going to be a tough fight.

The next time you found yourself in the headlines for a scandal, it was when the tiny part of your mind decided that it was a good idea to get eloped with a man you barely even know.

Present Day. 8a - Meeting with your Publicist (Nathan 'The Shark' Smith)

WhatsApp Message from Dieter: Are you there yet? Doll: Just parked. Sitting in my car outside of the studio. What are you doing up so early? I swear, you sleep like the dead. Dieter: Woke up to a cold bed. Maybe fuck the meeting with the Shark and come home. My cock misses you. I miss you. Dieter: (Sends a picture of said cock, fully erect and the mushroom tip bright red and angry, with Dieter's face in a frown). Doll: I can't keep avoiding him, D. Plus, I have my screen test today. Your cock is just going to have to wait, sorry baby. Dieter: Could you just send me a photo of your tits at least?

"What the fuck were you thinking, Doll?"

You roll your eyes as you flop onto your publicist's couch, crossing your arms around your chest. "Spare me the theatrics, Nathan. What's done is done, there's no point in dwelling in the past-"

"Do you have any idea just how much your little stunt is going to cost you? We were so close to landing Disney, and now I don't know how I'm going to convince them that you haven't lost your goddamn mind!" Nathan's voice reverberates through the room as he rips his glasses off his face.

"You pay me to protect you, to guide you down the right path, and you go and hook up with the first guy who winks at you? At a goddamn In-N-Out?! And let's not even talk about this sham of a marriage-"

"I was drunk, Nathan! I did what a normal person would have done if they drank as much as I did! And marrying Dieter isn't the end of the world! Maybe you need to loosen up a bit!"

"You don't even know him, Doll! This is as close to career suicide as it gets, and I'm not sure I want to try to salvage this mess!"

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. The damage is done! we just have to deal with it," you say defiantly, pulling out your phone.

"Maybe he roofied you or something," he mutters to himself, pacing back and forth. "If you want, we could take a drug test, maybe prove that somehow... he manipulated you into marrying him. Maybe, we could get the police involved, and you won't have to go through with this shit show! "

"There was no manipulation!" you retort, "these things happen all the damn time! how do you think these 24-hour drive-thru wedding chapels survive? I don't see the problem of two consenting adults agreeing to marry each other!"

"Have you seen what the news outlets have been saying about you? Half of them are already calling it a sham, while the other half thinks that you're knocked up!" he throws a stack of newspaper off his desk, the pages fluttering in the air as they land near where you sit.

You reach for the top gossip magazine in the towering stack, and your heart sinks as you're greeted by a blown-up photo of you and Dieter in Marcus's convertible. Both of you have flushed faces, yet there's an undeniable spark of happiness in your eyes.

Hollywood Sweetheart marries Hollywood Lothario Dieter Bravo at a Las Vegas Wedding Chapel after being caught having public sex at popular fast food spot In N Out...

You shake your head at that, tossing it back onto the table, not wanting to think of the implications and emotions behind the photo.

"I don't give a damn about the news outlets!" you snap back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Let them speculate all they want. I'm not going to let some gossip rags dictate my life."

Nathan sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Doll, you're playing with fire here. You're on the verge of ruining your career, and for what? A drunken mistake?"

"It's not just about that," you argue, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. "There's more to it than you realize."

"Then enlighten me," Nathan challenges, his tone softer now, a hint of concern seeping through his frustration. "Help me understand why you're willing to risk everything for someone you barely know."

"It's like he sees through all the bullshit," you murmur to Nathan, a pang of melancholy coloring your words. "While everyone else is busy painting me as this flawless figure, Dieter's the one who looks beyond the facade. He's not afraid to acknowledge the messy, imperfect parts of me, the ones I try to keep hidden."

With a sigh, you retrieve a cigarette from your purse and light it, the smoke swirling around you in the dimly lit room. "He's seen and experienced things most people shy away from, yet he's still unapologetically himself. There's a raw honesty to him that I find... refreshing."

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe it's best to give it a few months, let people think it wasn't a mistake, and just..." His voice trails off, the unspoken suggestion hanging in the air.

"Why do you think I'm in this industry? I am good at what I do, and besides... I don't think it would be that hard, pretending to be with him. He's... different, like a completely different person when he's with me. He has this way of making me feel-"

"Objectified? Like a good little slut for daddy?"

"Understood, Nathan," you reply sharply, stubbing the cigarette in the ashtray. "He makes me feel seen," you add with a sigh, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your tone. "Do you think we could wrap this up? I've got a screen test to prepare for."

"You sound like you're smitten with something," he snarks, typing away at his computer. "I don't know what to tell you, Doll," Nathan says, his tone laden with concern. "I just can't see this ending well. Dieter's like a disease, spreading toxicity wherever he goes. It's only a matter of time before he poisons you too."

9a. Trailer.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, Mrs. Dieter Bravo, in the flesh!"

You put on the best fake smile you could muster, pulling your shades off as you enter your trailer, your 'glam squad' already waiting to help you prep for your screen test. "Good morning to you too, ladies," you reply, taking a sip of your coffee. "Shall we get started?"

"That's it, Doll? you're not gonna give us the scoop?" Your hairstylist teases, "You're just going to pretend like you didn't do something so fucking insane like getting hitched in Vegas? To Dieter Bravo of all people? Are we nothing to you?!" she exclaims, taking you by the shoulders as she playfully shoves you onto her chair.

"I don't know what else I could tell you besides that yes, I got married over the weekend, I mean, it was all over TMZ for everyone to see-"

"I have to ask," Sofia chimes in, giving you a sly smile as she looks at you through the mirror, combing your hair back into a low ponytail. "Is he as big as they say he is?"

"You know, a normal person would say congratulations to someone who just got married."

"I mean, why waste time with congratulations when we can get down to the nitty-gritty? The people don't give a shit about the pleasantries, we wanna know about the good stuff. So, Spill: is he packing or not?"

"Sorry, Sof, a lady doesn't fuck and tell," you say with a saccharine smile, rolling your eyes.

"I'm shocked, honestly," your PA slash childhood best friend Daisy muses, typing away on her phone as she settles on the chair next to yours. "I had no idea you were seeing Dieter before this past weekend," she says with a hint of what someone could perceive as suspicion. "I'm glued to your side 24-7. Surely, I would have noticed that you were fucking him. Dieter Bravo isn't known for being subtle."

"Just because I live under a microscope doesn't mean I don't know how to keep things on the down low, Daisy. I can have a relationship and keep it secret from the world, celebrities do it all the time."

"What I don't understand is if you were so hell-bent on keeping your relationship with Dieter under wraps in the first place, why have such a shitshow of a wedding?" Daisy challenges, throwing her phone on the workspace in front of you as she turns to look at you, an unimpressed look on her face. "Something doesn't add up."

"What are you trying to say, Dais?"

"I'm saying, you were seen sucking face with Adam Patterson at Sundance not even two weeks ago, so I think I'm trying to say that you're full of shit," she retorts, her eyes narrowed as she stares you down.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb, Doll. I know everything about your life, I'm your best friend, for fucks sake! If you were with Dieter Bravo, I would've known. I live right next door to you!"

"Well, maybe I just wanted something that was mine, Daisy. Don't I deserve that?"

She scoffs incredulously. "Does Alex know?"

"Of course Alex knows, she's my sister!" you counter, hoping she doesn't catch the slight waver in your voice, your tell when you're not telling the whole truth.

"BUT I'M YOUR BEST FRIEND! I COME FIRST!"

You're taken aback by Daisy's sudden outburst, Sofia and Poppy exchanging uncomfortable glances as the tension escalates.

"So that's what this is about, then? You're just pissed because you found out like everyone else on TMZ? I'm entitled to privacy, Daisy! I have secrets. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but a relationship involves two people, and we both agreed to keep it quiet-"

"Oh spare me with that self-righteous bullshit, Doll!" she spits, rising from her seat. "This isn't you! It's like I'm talking to a fucking stranger right now!" She pushes past you as she makes her way out of the trailer. "You can have your secrets, but just remember, I know the ones that COUNT, remember that."

"Dais, come on, I said I'm sorry!" you call out after her, feeling a pang of guilt as she flicks you off and slams the trailer door shut.

"That went well," Sofia observes dryly as she starts working on your hair again. You wince a little as she smooths out the strands, already dreading what might come next.

"Hey Sof, instead of the braid, do you think we could leave my hair down? Maybe add some curls and give it that messy-but-sexy vibe?" you suggest, hoping for a change from the usual routine.

"I mean, yeah, that could look really hot, but Nate told me we were going for a more virginal look-" Sofia begins, her hesitation evident.

"Seriously? My character's supposed to be around my age, not some naive teenager," you argue, feeling exasperated. "Surely she wouldn't still be a virgin."

"You know what? You're right," Sofia concedes, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Sometimes us girlies just have a tough time finding love, right? That doesn't mean we can't look hot in the process! Wow Doll, look at you, spicing it up a bit! Finally! Should I send my gratitude to your new beau?"

You recall the way Dieter looked at you during the gala, his fingers gently brushing your hair back as he smiled warmly. "I love it when you wear your hair like this," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "It's so sexy, it's more you, you know?"

"Yeah, maybe," you breathe, smiling. "He likes it when my hair is down, but I think I like it, too."

Sofia nods in agreement, smiling at you through the mirror. "I think I like it, too. Look at you," she teases. "Little miss sweetheart, growing up."

Later, after the screen test.

"Are you out of your mind?" Nathan's screams reverberate through the confines of your car, causing you to wince as you pull out of the parking lot. "I specifically told you we were going for a girl-next-door vibe, and you show up looking like a slut?! I swear, the next time I see Dieter Bravo, I'm wringing his neck!"

"I don't see how this is his fault, though. I told Sofie and Poppy about the edits, and they seemed to be on board," you retort defensively. "I have a mind of my own, Nate, no one is influencing me in my decisions, how many times do I have to tell you that?! I'm not some fucking doll you can play with!"

"Well, the Doll I knew before wouldn't be acting like this! It's like you were body snatched or something!"

"I'll have you know, Favreau loved the change, and thought it made sense for the character!"

"I don't give a damn what Favreau thinks!" Nathan snaps, his voice rising in frustration. "You're letting Dieter run your life, and it's ruining your career, Doll. I won't stand by and watch you throw everything away for some fling!"

"I'm hanging up now, Nathan," you declare firmly, your grip tightening on the steering wheel. "I don't need this right now."

Without waiting for a response, you end the call and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The weight of Nathan's words lingers, but you push them aside, focusing on the road ahead as you navigate through the winding streets back to Dieter's house.

As you navigate the winding roads back to the Hollywood Hills, the argument with Nathan still ringing in your ears, you can feel your frustration mounting. The car ride is tense, the silence heavy with unspoken words.

Nathan's accusations replay in your mind, his anger leaving you feeling both defensive and conflicted. You glance at your reflection in the rearview mirror, taking in your appearance. Your outfit, chosen in haste, suddenly feels like a glaring mistake.

The sight of Dieter's house coming into view offers a small sense of relief. You pull into the driveway, noticing the moving boxes scattered across the lawn. The realization hits you that this is now your home, too.

Stepping out of the car, you're greeted by the chaos of movers bustling about, carrying boxes and furniture into the house. Dieter appears in the doorway, concern etched on his face as he approaches you.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, reaching out to touch your arm gently. "You look upset."

"Nathan," you sigh, shaking your head. "He's convinced that everything is your fault."

Dieter's expression darkens, his jaw tightening. "I'll have a word with him," he mutters, his tone laced with frustration.

You offer him a weak smile, appreciating his support. As you follow him into the house, the weight of the day's events begins to lift. You walk into the massive living room, a far cry from your own modest LA flat in Silver Lake. Your eyes widen as you take in your knickknacks amongst Dieter’s gothic decor, your collection of Sonny Angels and their smiling faces alongside Dieter’s collection of what you think are first editions of every Edgar Allen Poe book imaginable, in pristine condition, you might add. You chuckle at the juxtaposition, two very different personalities coming together that shouldn’t work in theory, but look harmonious together anyway. You can't help but smile at the sight, touched by Dieter's thoughtful gesture. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you turn to him, feeling a rush of gratitude and emotion that you can't quite place. "Dieter..."

"Do you like it?" He asks eagerly, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You find yourself sinking into the embrace, comforted by his warmth as he pulls you onto the sofa beside him. "I thought you might need a little sanctuary after your meeting with The Shark," he continues, shooting you a playful look. "Marcus did most of the unpacking, but I pitched in! It's like you've always been here, doesn't it feel like home?" His words touch you deeply, and you can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to the idea that you belong here with him, despite the unconventional circumstances of your marriage.

You sink into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. "I love it," you confess softly, snuggling closer to him as he strokes your hair. "It's cozy, it's... us." You pause, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice. "But what if someone sees through our little charade? What if they start asking questions again?"

"I'm glad you love it," he murmurs, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back. "And trust me, with this setup, no one will doubt us for a second. It's like our little secret hideaway," he adds with a chuckle. "But hey, if anyone tries to interrogate you again, just send them my way. I'll handle them." He flashes you a reassuring smile, his eyes full of warmth.

"Hopefully it doesn't get to that point, but Nate surely thinks I'm close to killing my career," you say, a touch of worry creeping into your voice.

"So I'm guessing your meeting with Nathan didn't go too well then?"

"Oh, he accused you of drugging me at the gala and threatened to go to the police-" you tease, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm pretty sure he thinks that I've been body snatched or lobotomized-"

"No, you've made a pact with the devil, and now... it seems he's come to collect," he breathes into your ear, his fingers tracing a tantalizing path down to the waistband of your jeans, sending shivers down your spine as they caress your skin. You gasp as he unbuckles your jeans, sliding your zipper down slowly as his hands make their way to your center.

He hums in appreciation as his fingers graze the edge of your panties, a smirk playing on his lips as he feels how wet you are. "What do you say, Mrs. Bravo? Are you gonna let your husband take care of you?"

"... and just how are you planning to take care of me, D?" you moan as his fingers push your panties aside, squirming as they slowly start to part your folds.

"I can think of a few ways, but there's something specific I had in mind," Dieter says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What's that?" you ask, intrigued by his sudden excitement.

"I want to show you something," he announces, springing off the couch and grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet.

Dieter leads you through the spacious home, his steps purposeful and eager. As you approach what seems to be a nondescript door, he turns to you with a smile that hints at anticipation. With a theatrical flourish, he swings the door open, revealing a room bathed in natural light, filled with the scent of paint and creativity.

"This is my sanctuary," he says softly, his eyes gleaming with pride as he gestures for you to enter.

Your heart flutters with excitement and curiosity as you step into the room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you—a massive canvas dominating one wall, covered in vibrant colors and intricate brushstrokes.

"It's breathtaking," you murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from the masterpiece before you.

Dieter steps beside you, his presence comforting yet electrifying. "I painted it for you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

You're speechless, your heart pounding with a mixture of awe and gratitude. As you take in the details of the painting—a stunning array of orchids in hues of crimson, violet, and gold—you feel a warmth spreading through you.

"It's... it's incredible," you finally manage to say, your voice filled with emotion.

Dieter's eyes meet yours, his gaze intense yet tender. "I wanted to capture the essence of your beauty, the depth of your spirit," he explains softly. "Every stroke, every color—it's all for you."

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you reach out to touch the canvas, feeling the texture of the paint beneath your fingertips. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of his creation, you realize just how deeply he sees you, how much he understands.

"I don't know what to say," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

"You don't have to say anything," Dieter replies, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Just know that this painting is a reflection of my budding love for you, a testament to the beauty I see in you every day."

"When did you have the time to even paint this? This must have taken months-"

Dieter chuckles softly, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he watches your reaction to the painting.

"I've poured my heart and soul into this piece," he admits, his voice tinged with pride. "But it's not quite finished yet."

"What more could you possibly add? It looks perfect to me," you reply, admiring the intricate details of the painting.

"Have you heard of the artist Georgia O'Keeffe?" Dieter asks, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "She had a way of painting flowers up close and personal, in a style that some found suggestive."

"You mean the whole 'vagina flower' controversy?" you chuckle, recalling the scandal. "People always read too much into things. Sometimes a flower is just a flower."

"Yes, but you're more than just a beautiful flower to me," Dieter murmurs as he approaches you from behind, his fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt one by one.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine as you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck. You lean back into him, feeling his presence enveloping you like a comforting embrace. As your shirt falls to the ground, forgotten, you turn to face him, the intensity of his gaze drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

"Beautiful," he rasps, his hand blindly grabbing a clean paintbrush from his workstation. "What a fucking masterpiece you are, my darling girl."

He rests the paintbrush at the hollow of your neck, his gaze tracing a path down your body as he delicately sweeps it along your clavicle, then down to your sternum. The pressure is just right, sending a shiver down your spine and raising goosebumps across your skin.

"I've painted many things in my life, but never on a canvas as perfect as you," he murmurs, a small smirk playing on his lips as he trails the brush along the curve of your breasts, flicking it teasingly against your nipple.

You let out a soft moan, your head tilting back as his mouth hovers over the sensitive tip. "Dieter," you plead, your eyes locking with his in desperation. "Please, paint me with your tongue."

Meanwhile, at the LAX baggage claim...

"Eddie! Focus!" Alex screams into her phone as she grabs her luggage at the carousel at LAX. "Do you think she would still be at her flat?"

"I would assume that since she's married the bloke, she would be living with him, surely, as her sister you would know this?" he croons, groaning.

"Well, I thought she told me everything, but my obvious shock of her being bloody married should tell you why I'm even in LA in the first place! What if she's gotten into those drugs that this Bravo character is into? Did you hear about that rumor with the ferret?"

"Okay, point taken," Eddie replies, clearing his throat. "Tell me why you felt like it was necessary to book the first flight out of Heathrow for this again? Doesn't Daisy live next door to her flat? Why are you asking me when you could just ask her?"

"Ugh, don't even get me started on that twat," Alex moans, rolling her luggage, walking in circles anxiously. "I seriously think she's a lost cause, just mooching off of my poor sister who is too sweet to know better. Do you know that she pays for her flat? Doll already pays her a good salary, I don't see how she has to also pay for her rent-"

Eddie chuckles. "Is that bitterness I sense, my pearl? She is her best friend, it's not completely out of the ordinary. Besides, it's not like your sister didn't set us up with these sweet digs in the city, London isn't exactly cheap, baby. Don't be an ungrateful cunt, honey. Your ugliness is show-"

"Eddie! For fucks sake, focus!" Your sister cuts her boyfriend off, almost bumping into a family as she tries to navigate her way out of the LAX terminal. She winces as a group of tired eyes glare back at her, shrugging her shoulders and mouthing an apology as she walks past. "How in the hell am I going to find out where this Dieter lives? It's not like I could ask the first person I see if they know where Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo lives-"

"Actually," Eddie chuckles through the phone, "That's not a bad idea, Alex. Maybe you should head downtown and grab one of those 'Maps of the Stars' things and catch a ride on a tour bus. Don't they use those double-decker buses? It'll be like you're back in merry ol' London!"

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" he deadpans, the sounds of the latest football match blaring on the TV. "You could always give Daisy a ring, I'm sure she would love to chauffeur the princess' sister around Los Angeles like the entitled queen she thinks she is-"

"Oh, Piss off Eddie. I'll talk to you later. Say goodnight to Zoe for me, alright? and don't forget to take the trash out in the morning!"

"I'm not going to tell your fucking dog goodnight, Alex. Just go find your stupid sister, give her a piece of your mind, have her give you some "sorry" money, and then come back home, you know how cranky I get when the laundry piles up-"

"GoodBYE, Eddie." Alex rolls her eyes as she hangs up on her boyfriend of seven years, muttering fucking asshole under her breath as she rifles through her purse for her ciggies. She takes a long drag as she looks out into the sunny sky of Los Angeles, a welcome change to the dreariness of London. She checks her phone once more, a photo of two smiling teenage girls smiling back at her.

She smiles at the memory of the day when the photo was taken, the day of your adoption into her family after what happened before your abrupt removal from your family home. "We're officially sisters, Baby Doll! You're finally free!" Alex exclaims, her arms around your shoulders as you laugh in glee "I'm so grateful for everything, Alex! For you and your family… taking me in after what happened at the chur-" She shakes out of the memory, checking the time. Taking another drag, she presses on your contact and takes a deep breath, the line trilling in her ear.

The person you're trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone-

"Fucking hell, Doll," she groans, shoving her sunglasses onto her face as she turns to the man that is looking at his phone next to her.

"Excuse me, Sir-"

"Those things will kill you, you know," the man replies, not bothering to look up from his screen.

"Haha, yeah, listen- would it be easier to catch a cab, or is there some sort of rail system I could take into the city from here?" she asks, adjusting her tote bag on her shoulder.

"I could tell you, but I honestly don't care to," the man retorts, finally raising his eyes to meet hers. He pockets his phone into his pocket and walks away, shaking his head in annoyance. "Fucking tourists-"

"Oi! Go fuck yourself!" Alex screams back at the man, giving him the bird as he jumps into an Uber. Her eyes widen at the sight of a cherry red double-decker bus, 'Tour of the Stars!' emblazoned off the side of it.

"Holy fuck, Eddie- you're a fucking genius!" she exclaims to herself, hurriedly pulling her luggage to the back of the line of excited tourists. "Who would have thought that bastard could think of something so brilliant?!"

"Do you think we'll get a glimpse of Doll now that she married Dieter Bravo?" a man asks his friend as they wait in line. "Did you see that video of the two of them at the In n Out? her tits looked so massive in his hands!"

"What a lucky bastard, right? I bet she's such a dirty girl under that sweet fucking exterior of hers, what I would do to be able to tap that!" his friend replies, chuckling at himself, smiling like he's said something so fucking profound. "Bravo must live in that sweet pussy of hers, she must taste so fucking sweet, maybe we should go up to his front door and ask to see if he was interested in a gang bang, it's not like he hasn't been caught in one before-"

"Oi!" Alex exclaims, her face red with frustration as she points at the group of men. "Watch your fucking mouth! That's my fucking sister you're talking about!"

"Yeah, and I'm the President of the United States," the man replies, sneering at her. "Doesn't your mommy teach you it's rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" he scoffs, high-fiving his friend. "If she was your sister, why are you in line for 'Tour of the Stars'? I know girls can be crazy, but you're living in la-la-land, lady!"

"Yeah? Well, I wanted to surprise her," Alex retorts, her demeanor growing flustered under the scrutiny of the group of men.

"Well, hate to break it to you, but I don't quite see the resemblance, sweetheart. Maybe if you got some plastic surgery, and I squint my eyes just right, maybe it could happen for you."

As they board the bus, Marty, the tour guide, announces enthusiastically, "Alright folks, buckle up! We're about to embark on a star-studded adventure, touring the homes of Hollywood's elite!"

The men who had been teasing Alex hoot and holler in excitement, egging Marty on with raucous cheers.

"We'll be swinging by Dieter Bravo's estate up in the Hills," Marty continues, adjusting his microphone. "It's one of the hottest properties in town, folks! Who knows, maybe we'll catch a glimpse of the man himself or even his famous wife! They just got married in Las Vegas over the weekend, how exciting, right?"

Alex rolls her eyes at the mention of Doll, already dreading the attention her sister's marriage attracts. But she stays silent, focusing on keeping her composure amid the rowdy crowd.

As the bus winds its way through the glamorous streets of Hollywood, Marty regales the passengers with tales of celebrity scandals and triumphs. An hour into the tour, they finally stop in front of a lavish mansion nestled among the hills.

"This is it, folks! The home of the one and only Dieter Bravo!" Marty announces, his voice filled with excitement.

Alex's heart skips a beat as she recognizes your BMW X4 behind the gates and manicured hedges. With a surge of adrenaline, she jumps to her feet, shouting over the din of the other passengers, "Stop the bus!"

"No can do, lady. Don't want to risk another lawsuit," Marty replies with a chuckle.

"But she's my sister! Please, just for a moment, I need to see her."

But Marty remains firm, his tone unwavering. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't make any exceptions. And even if she were your sister, why would you be on this tour bus?"

He glances at Alex skeptically, a furrow forming on his brow. "Seems like we're attracting all sorts of characters today," he muttered under his breath. "Crazier by the minute."

Feeling frustrated and desperate, Alex makes a split-second decision. "Oh, fuck this-" She lunges for the door handle and, without hesitation, jumps out of the bus.

"Hey!" Marty screams, the bus grinding to a halt. "Get back in here!" he yells as she slams onto the hot asphalt.

"No, can't, shant!" she screams back at the bus, "I won't tell it was you if you just drive away, no harm no foul?"

"... good enough for me!" Marty yells back, motioning to the tour bus driver. "onto the next one!"

The group of men who had teased her earlier chuckled. "Good luck finding your 'sister,'" one of them jeered sarcastically as the bus pulled away.

"Fuck, why do I keep putting myself through this?" Alex groans, wincing as she tries to steady herself, her scraped knees and wrists a testament to her rough landing. With determination in her stride, she approaches the gates, her heart pounding in her chest. Surprisingly, she finds them slightly ajar, allowing her to slip through the heavy iron. Wheeling her luggage along, she heads toward what she hopes is the front door and tentatively knocks. "Hello?"

Growing impatient, Alex begins to pound on the door. "Hey, I know you're in there! Open the damn door!" she screams, frustration evident in her voice. As the door suddenly swings open, she's met with the sight of a handsome man, his annoyance matching her own.

Marcus narrowed his eyes at her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Can I help you?"

"Oh—" Alex gasped, clearly flustered and embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sir," She glanced back at the map, her eyes darting around her surroundings. "I thought this was the residence of Dieter Bravo. I must be mistaken—"

"Listen, lady, are you in need of medical assistance? Do you need me to call the rehab center that you clearly looked like you escaped from?"

"I beg your pardon?" Alex snaps, her frustration evident in her clenched fists as she strides back up to the man in front of her, her patience wearing thin. She takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to deal with this arrogant jerk. It's such a shame such a beautiful man like him is such a tool, she thinks to herself through her annoyance.

"Look, I've just had a grueling flight from Heathrow after a massive row with my boyfriend. He can't fathom why I needed to fly thousands of miles to LA to see my sister, who's apparently decided to get married by some Elvis impersonator on a whim. Clearly, she's lost her mind, and I've come all the way here to figure out just what the hell has gotten into her! So, if you're not Doll—"

"You're Doll's sister?" Marcus asks incredulously, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes, I'm Doll's sister. What does it look like?"

Marcus scoffs, his eyes disbelieving as they roam over her figure, his smirk growing wider. "Sure, if you're her sister, then I'm the queen of England."

"What is that supposed to mean, you prick?"

"Listen, don't get me wrong, you are a gorgeous woman, but I don't see the family resemblance."

"She's my adoptive sister, you moron!"

"That's what they all say, sweetheart."

"OH!" Your voice pierces the silence of the mansion, both Alex and Marcus startled by the sudden outburst. "Fuck Dieter, just like THAT!"

"Oh bugger this!" Alex exclaims, pushing Marcus aside as she storms through the mansion. "For fucks sake! Christabella!" she shouts, opening up every door she comes across. "BELLA! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" She shouts, making her way towards Dieter's studio. "BELLA! I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE!"

"Hey!" Marcus shouts back at Alex, his composure barely hanging on by a thread. "You can't just enter someone's private property, I could have you arrested!"

"Yeah, well just call my lawyer, then. He is on my sister's payroll, after all!" she sing-songs, making her way up to the door leading to Dieter's studio. "BELLA!" she shouts as she opens the door, gasping at the sudden sight of the both of you stark naked on the floor, with Dieter railing you from behind. You scream at the sudden intrusion, scrambling to cover yourself.

"Dieter," Marcus huffs, "I am so sorry, she just came storming in, saying that shes-"

"Alex!" you squeak, "What are you doing here?"

Dieter looks back at the angry face of your sister, his own expression shifting to confusion. "Who the hell are you?"

"Christa-fuck-abella Martin," Alex seethes, "What on earth has gotten into you?"

"... and who the hell is Christabella?" Dieter asks out loud, rolling himself on the floor in exhaustion.

You grimace as your sister rolls her eyes, throwing Dieter's discarded robe at the both of you. "Please don't tell me you married my sister in that hell hole and you don't even know her real name, mate."

Taglist:@yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte

@drewharrisonwriter@missladym1981@amyispxnk@thespookywookies@stevie75

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings@daydream-believer19@survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @gobaaby-blog-blog

#the new girl in tinseltown #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic recs #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #dieter bravo x ofc #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble

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notinmymovie · 1 year

Note

requests for sam open?! how about sam carpenter x gn!reader angst 👀 maybe they're really good friends before. and after richie, they started getting even closer to each other but sam starts sleeping with danny and refuses to acknowledge what she feels for r until ghostface almost kills r

or you can have ghostface murder r before sam gets to tell them she's in love with them ;) ending's up to you!

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x gn!reader

Word count: 1,328

Warnings: Violence/blood (reader gets stabbed but survives), some swear words, ?? Sam is generally emotionally distant, angst

A/N: slightly non linear, I'm kinda bad at writing fighting scenes, kind of a mess. In any case, I really hope you enjoy this!!

(Requests still open~)

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶

You don't blame Sam, you really don't, but that doesn't mean it didn't still sting. If you were honest, your feelings for her ran deep. And so every lingering glance, every time she checked in on you, hand on your shoulder—it felt like your heart was burning.

Things had changed, you were close before, and then she'd left town. And while she still called, still kept you updated, it was undoubtedly different. Then Tara was attacked, the killings started, and suddenly she was back. She was back and you weren't about to leave her side again, or let her leave yours.

And after all that had happened, you did stick around. You were there for her, after the darkness and bloodshed, after Richie, after all of it. And it almost brought you two even closer. But it seemed as soon as things got just a little too close, she started to pull away.

And you understood, trust wasn't something easy to give out after the things that happened. You weren't angry, you cared about her too much to be angry. And you'd promised to stick with her regardless of anything else. So you pack up and leave with her (and Tara and Chad and Mindy).

But it seemed like then, afterwards, she only started to feel even further away.

══════════════════════

"You know you can talk to me too, right?" You say. "I know you're seeing that therapist, but we're all here for you too."

And Sam gives you a light smile at that. "I know and I appreciate it. But I'm okay, I really am. I'm dealing."

Deep down, you know that that probably wasn't entirely true. But you also knew that what Sam was experiencing wasn't exactly what everyone else had gone through. People saw her all wrong, even if there was a darker side of her. But what mattered to you was that you knew her, and you cared. You cared so much it practically hurt.

You left out a soft sigh, "I don't necessarily doubt that you're working through it but—I just don't want you to feel like you're alone. Maybe I can't fully understand, but I'm here regardless."

Sam looks at you and part of you thinks for a moment that maybe she'll let you back in, unlock the bolts, just for a moment. "I understand your concern, but you don't need to worry about me." She doesn't.

══════════════════════

When you find out she's sleeping with Danny, you feel your heart sink into your stomach. It wasn't exactly a betrayal but you wished she had at least told you. How do two people go from close friends and confidants to whatever the two of you had become? And how could you deal with whatever tension still seemed to linger between you both, when it seemed that maybe she wasn't thinking of you at all?

It shouldn't matter, it shouldn't. You weren't together, you never were.

And now? Now your bleeding heart had other things to worry about, bigger things to fear. Because it was starting again. The murders. Because once again, Sam was at the center of it. And you were terrified, you were terrified for all of them, for yourself too. But that didn't seem to matter as much as the thought of losing the people you loved.

You weren't brave, it had never been your strong suit, but now you had no choice but to be.

══════════════════════

"You know, I wouldn't blame you if you left," Sam says one day. "I let you come here with us and now there might be a target on your back."

"I don't care," you say and she gives you a look. "Okay, I care a little bit—being afraid kind of comes with the territory. But I'm not leaving you."

"You're too loyal for your own good," Sam says, a huff of laughter following. It feels mirthless.

"It's just that I—" you hesitate, now was definitely not the time to be honest about your true feelings, so you let the words die at the tip of your tongue. "I just care about you…all of you. How could I leave?"

"I just really don't want to see you get hurt, especially not because of me," Sam says.

"None of this is your fault," you say. "And we're gonna figure this out, together."

And you can see the worry on her face but she relents.

══════════════════════

The way Sam looks at you made you ache, but somehow also felt like a balm on your heart. You know she cares, maybe you don't know exactly in what ways, but she cares.

And one day, she's looking at you and you swear it feels like she can see every thought running through your head. Like she understands something about you that even you don't.

"I'm scared too," says Sam. "Maybe that's obvious, I don't know. But I'm really scared."

"That's okay," you say. "It's understandable to be scared."

"I just wish I could be the brave one, I think sometimes I seem like it." Sam sighs, "I'll keep you safe though, I promise. I'm gonna keep all of you safe."

"And we're gonna keep you safe." You smile softly, putting your hand on top of hers. "I promise that too."

There's a look on Sam's face, like she's hesitant to accept it. But you can see the walls slowly going down, she needed people too. Sometimes it almost seemed like she felt she had to atone for things out of her control. "Thank you," she says quietly.

══════════════════════

It all happens far too quickly, almost in a haze of terror. The masked figure hurtling towards you, trying to fight, kick, shove—anything. Sam bursts in and it's overwhelming for you both, that fear that maybe you can't protect each other like you had promised.

When you fall, you fall hard. The air knocked out of you, crashing onto the small table. You try to get up to no avail, feeling yourself being dragged closer despite your best efforts. Sam's attempts at deterring the killer are just mere seconds too late before you feel the knife shoved into your gut.

The sound of sirens can be heard and the killer flees. All that's left is your ragged breathing and Sam falling to her knees beside you. "Hey, look at me, look at me. You're gonna be okay, alright?" She says, her hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

"I'm sorry," you rasp out. "I don't regret anything." You can feel yourself fading and are only vaguely aware of the tears streaming down Sam's face. It almost hurts as much as the bleeding wound.

"You can't die, you can't. Just—just stay with me, okay? Please." Sam pleads. "I—I love you," she blurts out. And then softer, "I love you…"

The police and paramedics come crashing in as soon as your eyes start to close.

══════════════════════

You wake up in the hospital, Sam sleeping in the chair beside your bed. "Sam," you say softly, voice hoarse. Her eyes open from what must have been a very light sleep.

The relief that washes over her face was immeasurable, "you're awake." There were tears in her eyes, "fuck—I'm so glad youre awake."

"Me too," you say. "I was pretty sure I was dead."

"I guess you're stronger than you give yourself credit for," she says through a teary smile.

"Guess so," you say with a small laugh. "Did you mean it, by the way? What you said?"

The look in Sam's eyes is so gentle and you think maybe finally, the walls were truly crumbling, the door finally unlocked. "I did—I do." This time, you were right.

"Good, because I love you too. I don't risk getting stabbed for just anyone, you know?"

And she laughs, leaning over to kiss you and you kiss her back. Before you both get too eager and you pull back with an "ow."

"Sorry," she says, wincing.

"It's okay, definitely worth it." And you both laugh.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x gn reader #scream 2022 #scream vi #scream fanfic #sid's writing

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 8 months

Text

Found You- Part 4

Summary: Nearly 10 years ago, you left home after a bad incident with your parents, Rick and Lori Grimes. In that time, you married a redneck down south and started a family. But it all came crashing down when the dead started to walk.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: language, violence, blood

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

A/N- To the beautiful woman who has commissioned this mini series, thank you! And I hope you enjoy this new part.

*Months Later*

It had started out as a normal, average day in Alexandria, but life as you knew it turned from peaceful to chaotic within the span of 24 hours.

"Boys, breakfast!" Daryl shouted over his shoulder while flipping pancakes from the frying pan to the plate.

The word 'breakfast' was like a trigger word in the Grimes-Dixon house because every single resident suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Daryl rolled his eyes but didn't stop the greedy hands stealing pancakes from the stack while you stood beside him making your sons sandwiches for school.

"I'll never get sick of waking up to this." Michonne commented, leaning between you both to take a couple pancakes from the bench.

"You and me both." Your father agreed, the two of them vanishing with the food just as quickly as they had appeared.

"They're a little on the burnt side, baby brother." Merle commented walking out the kitchen with a pancake in his hand.

"Make 'em yourself then!" Daryl shot back.

"I think they're good." Little Dean piped up shoving one of the pancakes in his mouth.

"Thanks, kiddo." Daryl smiled, reaching down to ruffle his son's hair. "Why don't ya put it in a bowl ‘n pour some syrup over it? Not too much though."

You put the knife down and pulled out two bowls from the cabinet above your head before holding them out to Dean. He flopped his bitten pancake into one of the bowls before grabbing a few more pancakes from the stack. He evenly divided up the food in the two bowls, one for him and one for his brother like he did every morning.

You went back to cutting up the sandwiches while watching Dean out the corner of your eye with the syrup to make sure he didn't drown the pancakes in too much sugar. But after all this time he seemed to have finally mastered the right amount of syrup to pancake ratio.

Ricky walked into the kitchen a couple minutes later and sat down at the table beside Dean who slid his bowl of pancakes over which Ricky eagerly started to eat, mumbling a 'thank you' with his mouth full of food.

"Ricky, what time-" You started to say before he cut you off.

"I don't wanna be called Ricky anymore." He announced, putting his fork down and looking over at you across the kitchen.

You paused mid slice through the bread before you glanced over at Daryl who met your gaze with an equally confused and surprised expression.

"Okay." You said slowly while turning to give him your full attention. "What do you want to be called?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "dunno."

"Your proper name is Richard." Daryl said, putting the frying pan in the sink before turning to face the boys. "What 'bout that?"

Ricky scrunched his face up, "doesn't Richard mean Dick?"

Merle's laughter echoed out from the lounge room at his nephew’s words but you pointily ignored the eldest Dixon and looked back over at your son.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Carl." Ricky answered, looking down at his empty bowl with an unreadable expression.

"Carl! Get in here!" You shouted, folding your arms across your chest as you leant back against the bench and a few seconds later you brother walked into the room.

"What?" He mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes like he had only just gotten out of bed.

"Why did you tell my son that Richard means Dick?"

That questioned seemed to snap Carl out of his tiredness and he stood up a bit straighter as his eyes swept between you, the boys, Daryl and back to you before he sighed.

"He was talking about not wanting to be called Ricky. I thought it was better for him to hear it from me rather than some other kid at school."

Ricky rolled his eyes, "you just wanted to end the conversation so you could go make out with Enid."

Daryl quickly covered up his laugh with a fake cough and you smirked behind your hand as Carl's eyes widened like his biggest secret had just been exposed. That kid definitely had a crush on this Enid girl.

"He's always hanging around Enid." Dean informed, looking over at you and Daryl.

"I am not." Carl exclaimed defensively.

"Isn't she dating Ron anyway? Why do you spend so much time with her?" Ricky questioned.

"I'm not discussing this with a couple of children."

"Children?" Ricky repeated, with a small chuckle of disbelief. "I'm not even two years younger than you and could kick your ass."

“In your dreams."

"Okay. Let's go." Ricky abruptly stood up from his chair, but Daryl was quick to move and stepped forward, grabbing his son by the back of his shirt.

"Alright, that's enough." Daryl ordered.

"We don't fight with family." You stated, pushing yourself away from the bench and walking over to them.

"Dad and Uncle Merle fight all the time." Ricky grumbled.

"Uncle Merle and I argue all the time. But we don't physically fight." Daryl explained, pushing Ricky back down into his chair.

Merle chose that moment to walk back into the kitchen with a shit eating grin. He opened his mouth about to correct Daryl and inform the kids that the two of them had definitely fought physically while they were younger and even when they were adults, but you quickly pointed at him and gave him a stern look causing Merle to snap his mouth shut instantly.

"We don't fight family. Okay? There's too much we have to fight these days, we shouldn't be fighting each other too." You simply explained, looking between the Dixons and Carl. "Now, Carl come get some breakfast. Boys put your bowls in the sink and go get changed for school."

"Thanks, and I'm sorry." Carl apologised, looking over at Ricky.

"Sorry too." Ricky replied.

Carl nodded before he swiped a few pancakes from the plate on the bench before he walked out the kitchen and went back upstairs to his bedroom.

"You would've won the fight." Dean whispered, leaning over to his brother.

Ricky smirked a little and Daryl snorted as the boys stood up and put their dishes in the sink before wandering off to go get ready for school.

Merle watched them walk off before he turned back towards the two of you, "they're definitely Dixons."

"I don't know if that's a good thing." You sighed, picking up the knife to finish cutting the sandwiches into triangles.

"It probably ain't. But it's funny as fuck." Merle responded.

Daryl rolled his eyes, "don't ever tell 'em about the fights we used to have."

"So, I shouldn't bring up the time you kicked me in the nuts, and I gave you a bloody nose when we were their age?" Merle asked, although by the sheepish tone in his voice it was clear he already knew the answer.

"Never tell that story." You said over your shoulder.

"Oh, come on. It had a nice ending. We made up 'n went squirrel hunting... then nearly got lost in the woods, but we made it back in one piece."

"Barely." Daryl muttered, walking over to the sink to start washing the dishes.

"I got the dishes. You get your brother out the house before I throw this peanut butter sandwich at him." You instructed, wrapping one of the sandwiches while Merle snickered from across the kitchen.

"On it." Daryl replied, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to your temple before he walked out the kitchen, grabbing his brother's arm along the way and dragging him out the room.

You chuckled softly under your breath, wrapping the last sandwich before placing them both on the kitchen table for your sons to grab soon. You got to quick work with the dishes and your father wandered back in with his and Michonne’s plates and grabbed a towel to help.

You handed your father a bowl which he took and began to dry off with a towel, but your eyes lingered on the butterfly stitches still covering the worst of the cuts on his face after the fight he had with Pete not too long ago.

Pete had been dangerous. He needed to be stopped and although a lot of the civilians in town were now fearful and untrusting of your father, you backed him 100% for what he did. Pete had to be stopped, so Rick killed him. It was as simple as that.

"How's the face?" You asked, eyeing the still healing bruises and cuts.

"It's probably seen better days." Your dad admitted with a chuckle. "It's fine though, doesn't hurt."

You nodded satisfied with that answer before you went back to washing the last bowl in the sink before pulling the plug to drain the water.

"Did Daryl tell you that we're doing a test run today?" Rick asked a few seconds later.

“Yeah. Are you sure you don't need me out there? I can help."

"I know you can." Rick smiled, putting the bowl down to look at you. "But we need to keep a few fighters here to look after everyone."

You sighed but didn't argue any further.

A few days prior Rick discovered a giant horde of walkers stuck in the quarry not too far from town. The horde were trapped inside by two semi-trucks blocking the exit, but apparently the trucks looked very close to shifting and once they did, that horde would be led straight to Alexandria.

A horde that size would barge straight through the walls, destroying everything.

So, a plan was set.

With Daryl on his bike, and Merle and Abraham in a car, they were going to lead the horde 20 miles away in the opposite direction. Rick had put together another group to be on either side of the horde and redirecting the dead if they started to veer off track.

The plan sounded simple enough, but you knew it had the possibility of turning south at the drop of a hat.

"Fresh coffee anyone?" Carol asked from somewhere behind you.

You turned around to find the woman standing by the bench pouring herself a cup of coffee. How long has she been standing there for?

"I'd love one, thanks." You wiped your hands on the end of Ricks towel before walking over to Carol who handed you a mug with a gentle smile.

You took a sip of the coffee before making your way out the front door to enjoy the warm drink peacefully on the porch.

"You got a better idea bro?" Daryl's voice snapped.

You looked up to find him and Merle by the motorcycle on the road in front of the house. Daryl was knelt beside the bike and seemed to be securing something with a cable tie while Merle stood behind him with a disapproving scowl.

"Yeah. Don't fucking break it next time."

"Real fuckin' helpful, thanks." Daryl muttered, glaring up at his brother over his shoulder.

Well, so much for drinking your coffee in peaceful silence.

Ricky suddenly walked out the front door with his backpack in his hand, "can I help?"

You looked over at the brothers by the bike before glancing through the front window at the clock on the wall inside the house.

"Only for a few minutes otherwise you'll be late for school." You explained.

"Come hold this for me. You'll be better help then your one-armed uncle over here." Daryl muttered, pointing the spanner at Merle.

"Screw you too." Merle responded.

Ricky dropped his backpack by your feet before running down the porch steps eager to help his dad with the bike. You leant against the railing sipping on your coffee while you watched the three of them together.

Daryl was patient, explaining things to Ricky while he worked, and your son nodded along with a hard look of concentration on his face trying to soak it all in.

"Ricky forgot his sandwich." Dean's voice suddenly said.

You glanced over your shoulder to find your youngest walking out the door with his backpack over his shoulders and his brother’s sandwich in his hand. He spotted Rickys bag by your feet and unzipped it, placing the sandwich inside without having to be asked and you smiled proudly at him.

"Thanks, sweetie. You ready for school?"

Dean nodded, "Carl already left though. He went out the back door."

Carl always walked to school with Ricky and Dean. Why would he sneak out the back door without them?

"He's ditching us for Enid." Dean further explained noticing your confusion.

Of course, he was.

"I can walk you boys to school if you want?"

"It's just down the road, mama." Dean rolled his eyes like your offer was totally ridiculous and you smiled softly at his reaction, but sorta hurt at the same time.

When did your boys get so grown up? It wasn't that long ago you were pushing them around in strollers before the dead were walking.

Time was going too quick.

"Can I just be called Rick? Like Grandpa?" Ricky suddenly said, standing up from where he had been kneeling beside the bike. He looked between Daryl and Merle before glancing over at you with wide hopeful eyes wanting your approval.

"Of course, sweetie. Rick is a good name, isn't it?" You said, glancing down at Dean who nodded.

"I think Rick is a mighty fine name." Your father suddenly said, walking out the front door with Judith in his arms.

"Of course, you do. You're bias." You replied quietly over your shoulder before looking back at Ricky. "You boys should head to school before you're late."

Dean quickly grabbed his brothers backpack before racing down the porch steps and jogging over to him. Ricky grabbed the bag, slinging it over his shoulders before they both waved goodbye as they walked down the street.

"Have a good day!" You shouted after them.

You leant back against the porch railing and watched your boys until they disappeared around the corner in the direction of school.

"Are you able to watch Judith? I gotta talk with Tobin and the others before doing the test run." Rick suddenly said, walking over to you.

"Of course."

He handed you the little girl who had gotten a lot bigger since you first arrived at Alexandria. Why were they all growing up so fast?

"Dixon’s, you good to head out in 20?" Rick asked, walking down the porch towards them and they both nodded.

"I'll go tell Abe and the others." Merle said, already making his way to the house next door.

Daryl continued to tinker away with his bike, and you finally got to enjoy some peacefulness with your morning coffee. Judith sat on your hip while you sipped away at your coffee enjoying the beautiful morning.

You sat down on the porch swing and bounced Judith on your knee. Your baby sister babbled away happily with not a care in the world. She had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow with the horde. So much could go wrong. So much could-

"Stop." Daryl's voice suddenly called out, snapping you from your thoughts.

He walked up the porch steps wiping grease from his hands before tucking the red rag into his back pocket and sitting down beside you.

"I can hear you thinkin'. Stop." He elaborated.

"I just have a bad feeling about this."

"It's gonna be fine. That's why Rick wants to do this test run today. If we find any issues with the plan, we will fix 'em before tomorrow."

Daryl pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his vest and lit one with his zippo before taking a deep drag. He exhaled the smoke with a turn of his head and held the burning cigarette away from Judith who was still in your lap and now fiddling with the dog tags around your neck.

"There's nothin' to worry 'bout." Daryl reassured.

You nodded, "I guess you're right.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence with your coffee and cigarette while Judith cooed and babbled softly to herself. Once Daryl finished his cigarette he reached over and picked up Judith from your lap and held the little girl against his chest, and you weren't surprised when she fell asleep against him almost instantly.

"I kinda miss the boys being this small." He randomly commented.

You glanced over at him taking in Judiths sleeping form and Daryl’s warm smile as he rubbed her back soothingly.

"They look cute as babies, but at least now we don't have any diapers to change or 3am feedings with the boys." You pointed out.

"That stuff ain't so bag."

You raised your eyebrows, "yeah? I'll tell my dad that and he'll have you on diaper duty for Judith."

Daryl snorted softly and opened his mouth to respond, but didn’t get the chance.

"Ready to get this show on the road?" Abraham's voice called out.

You looked up to find the redhead and Merle walking out the house next door. Daryl sighed but stood up and you did as well before he gently handed Judith back to you, the little girl still fast asleep.

"I'll see you later. Be safe." You said, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Carol's making a casserole for dinner. Try not to be late."

Daryl smiled, kissing you again before pulling away, his hand on your shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am."

You rocked Judith in your arms and watched Daryl join up with Merle and Abe before they walked away in the direction of the main gate where Rick and the others were no doubt waiting.

"I think Ron blames me for his father’s death. He hates me now." Jessie admitted with a heavy sigh.

You and Carol had decided to check in on Jessie after Pete's very public death recently. She was relieved that her abusive husband was dead, but her eldest son wasn't too happy.

"He'll come around." You reassured, not really knowing what else to say in this situation.

"How do you know?"

That was a good question.

You didn't know. You didn't know Jessie or Ron very well. But you had forgiven your father. The situations were drastically different, but if you could forgive Rick after spending over a decade hating him, you were sure Ron could forgive his mother.

"How do I know?" You repeated and Jessie nodded. "Because I used to hate Rick."

Jessie's eyes widened into saucers at your words, but you weren't going to tell her the details of that. It was none of her business and you and Rick had moved on.

"Why did you hate him? Rick is such a nice man. He's always so kind and helpful, and I know a few people are weary of him after he killed Pete, but don't worry, I'm not. Rick is a good man."

Right, you had forgotten about Jessie's massive crush on your father.

And now you remembered why you avoided hanging out with her. It felt like the real housewives whenever you hang out with her and the other mothers of Alexandria, all they did was gossip and talk about how attractive Rick Grimes was. You hated it.

"He is a good man, isn't he Y/N?" Carol responded, glancing over at you while hiding her smirk behind a coffee mug.

She knew you didn't like Jessie when she talked about your father. It was just weird listening to a woman gush and swoon over Rick like he was some kind of movie star.

You nodded, trying to play nice, "he is."

"He really is. You're both lucky to have him in your lives. I'll admit, I wasn't too sure of him when you all first showed up, but once he shaved that beard... oh, boy." Jessie continued to ramble, but you drained out her words and turned your attention to Judith who was playing with her toys on the carpet.

"Y/N?"

You looked up to find Jessie standing in the doorway. You hadn’t even realised that she got off the couch.

"I was just saying if Rick ever needs his hair cut, can you tell him that I'll be happy to do it?" She said with a bright smile before she walked out the room.

"I wonder why." You muttered under your breath.

Carol chuckled from the other couch, "give her a break. She just has a little crush on him."

"A little?"

"Okay. A big crush."

"It's gross." You responded.

Carol smirked, "it's entertaining."

"Well, I'm glad my uncomfortableness is entertaining for you." You said sarcastically.

Carol rolled her eyes before standing up from the couch and picking Judith up from the ground. "I'm gonna start making that casserole for dinner."

You quickly stood up too, "don't you dare leave me here with my dad’s wannabe lover."

"It'll be rude if we both just suddenly leave." Carol pointed out.

Yeah. That was true.

Jessie finally returned with a fresh cup of coffee but paused when she noticed you both standing.

"Sorry I-" Carol started to say but you cut her off.

"Sorry I need to go. Now that Pete is gone, it's just me and Denise with some form of medical background. I should go see how she's going. Bye."

You were out the door before either woman could say anything else. Was that rude? Probably. But if you had to sit there and deal with Jessie's over friendliness towards you just because of her crush on your dad, you would snap.

So, you began to make your way down the street because your excuse to leave was actually true. Neither you nor Denise were qualified to be a doctor, but you were the only choice Alexandria had.

You walked through the front door of the infirmary to find Denise sitting on the floor with an open book in her lap and thicker medical textbooks stacked up beside her.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

Denise looked up at your voice, pushing her glasses back in place as she gave you a tight smile.

"I'm okay... it's hard being the new doctor. I'm a little nervous." She admitted.

"I might not be as trained as you, but I still have some medical training and I'm always here to help."

Your words seemed to relax the other woman slightly as she closed the book in her lap and looked up at you properly.

"I'm a psychiatrist. I went to med school. I was even going to be a surgeon, but after the panic attacks I got really interested in psychology. Now I wish I had stuck to being a surgeon." She chuckled nervously. "I'm really trying to lower expectations here."

You smiled, "you and me both. But we can learn and get better together. What are you studying at the moment?"

"Veins and arteries." She answered, picking up the textbook. "Not very exciting."

"Well, let's make it exciting."

The next 30 minutes were spent sitting on the floor of the infirmary together studying the textbook about veins and arteries which, yeah, wasn't that exciting, but Denise appreciated the help.

Denise began writing a cheat sheet on a blackboard and you grabbed a piece of chalk to help her when sudden screaming erupted from outside.

"What the hell?" Denise questioned, looking up from the cheat sheet in confusion.

You were already on your feet and rushing to the window to see what was happening. Your mouth parted in a silent scream when you saw a man standing in the middle of the street cutting the limbs from a dead body on the road.

What the fuck?

A woman suddenly ran screaming from her house across the road, catching the man’s attention and you watched in horror as he threw the axe at her, the blade spearing straight through her chest. Another man marched out the very same house with a knife in his hand, no doubt the reason why she had been screaming in the first place and the man grinned when he saw her dead body.

Holy fuck.

Alexandria was under attack.

"What's going on out- Oh my God!" Denise shrieked, seeing the bodies across the street.

Both men spun around at her voice, and you quickly covered her mouth with your hand and pulled her down below the window out of sight. You held Denise in front of you, neither of you daring to speak. Denise kept her petrified eyes locked with yours and you slowly lowered your hand from her mouth before putting an index finger to your lips in a hushing motion.

Denise nodded ever so slightly before you lifted your head and peaked out the window to find both men marching towards the infirmary. You quickly reached for your knife, but nothing was there.

Looking down you came to the horrible realisation that you had forgotten to put your weapons belt on this morning. It was still sitting on the desk in your bedroom. You hadn’t even thought about it, hell, if you were being honest, you probably hadn’t worn it for a while. You had become complacent in Alexandria. Too complacent.

You spared a quick glance to the front door but knew there wasn’t enough time to lock it.

Shit.

"They're coming. I need a weapon." You whispered, your eyes frantically scanning the room for anything you could use before Denise grabbed a scalpel off the bench beside her.

"I-I can't fight. I don't know how.”

You took the tool from her and stood up, ushing her across the room, "hide in the back room. Use the scissors on the desk and stab anyone who enters. Got it?"

You didn’t wait for her to answer before you closed the door, shutting her away safely before you ducked down behind one of the gurneys just as the front door slammed open.

The men slowly entered, surveying the room as they walked around. You watched their boots from under the gurney, the scalpel gripped tightly in your hand.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are. We know you're in here."

One of them began walking in your direction and you raised the scalpel in front of you defensively. Just as the man stepped past the gurney, you stabbed the blade through his thigh, sliding it in deep to hit the artery.

The man shouted in pain, and you yanked the scalpel out, relieved when blood instantly started to gush from the wound. You jumped to your feet and sprinted across the room away from him and only just managed to duck out the way when his axe came flying through the air. It whizzed past your head and imbedded into the wall behind you with a loud bang.

The man began to rush towards you, but only made it a few steps before his body collapsed to the ground from blood loss, his entire pant leg stained a deep crimson.

The commotion caught the other guy’s attention because he walked out the small room he had been searching and froze when he saw his friend lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. His dark eyes flashed over to you and his expression hardened.

"You're fucking dead."

You spun around and grabbed the wooden handle of the axe to pull it from the wall, but it was stuck. You could hear the man getting closer behind you as you pulled and yanked at the axe, but it wouldn't budge.

His footsteps thundered behind you, and you ducked to the left and turned to face him just as the man swung his knife but missed and stumbled forward from the momentum of the swing not expecting you to dodge it. You slashed the scalpel across his throat and jumped backwards trying to put some distance between you.

The man opened his mouth, but no words came out as he grabbed his neck just as blood began to flow from the thin but lethal cut. He gasped and choked, blood seeping between his fingers at his failing attempt to stop the flow, and within a minute, he was dead on the floor.

You quickly knelt and pried the knife from his hand before stabbing the blade through his skull to stop him from turning.

"Denise, it's all clear. You can come out!" You shouted, walking over to the other guy who was now also dead, and you stabbed his head too.

The door to the back room creaked open and Denise hesitantly stepped out with the scissors gripped in her hand tightly. Her eyes flashed between you and the dead bodies in pure shock.

"How-how did you do that?" She stuttered.

"Femoral artery." You said pointing at the first guy before pointing to the other. "And carotid arteries. Turns out that textbook was actually useful."

Denise just stared at you in shock before shaking her head and letting out a hysterical laugh. You smiled, laughing with her. Nothing about this was even remotely funny, but you couldn't help it.

"Do you think there's more?" She asked once she managed to stop laughing.

Your stomach dropped.

The boys.

The clock on the wall told you that school was finished for the day. Where would your kids be?

"I have to find my kids."

"What do I do?"

"Stay here. Lock the door behind me." You instructed and Denise nodded following you to the front door. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Go. Be careful." She replied, giving you a nervous smile before you walked out the door and she hurriedly locked it behind you.

You ducked around the side of the infirmary and jogged around the back of Alexandria along the fence line behind the houses, using the buildings as cover compared to the open main street. People were still screaming, and you wanted to help them, but not until you knew your boys were safe. They were the only things that mattered.

Suddenly a crash boomed across the community and the tall wall beside you shuttered before a very loud horn sounded and didn't turn off.

Where the hell was that coming from?

You didn't get long to wonder what was happening because the next thing you knew, your body was slammed into the metal wall, hard. You threw your arm back, trying to stab whoever was attacking you, but they knocked the weapon from your grasp.

The person spun you around, your back now pinned to the wall and you came face to face with a 'W' scarred into the man’s forehead.

Wait... Daryl told you about the people that jumped him and Aaron during their last run out the walls, he said they had W's on their heads. This had to be them.

The man in front of you snarled, exposing his crooked yellow teeth before his hands wrapped around your neck tightly.

He lifted your body until your feet weren’t touching the ground, your back pressed against the wall behind you. The fingers around your throat were like a vice getting tighter and tighter by the second.

The horn was still blasting loudly in the background, drowning out the screams of civilians and you stared at the scarred W, thinking this was the end.

Daryl hadn't been expecting to lead a horde of walkers away from Alexandria today.

The test run had turned into the real thing when one of the trucks blocking the horde in the quarry tipped over and that was all it took for the horde to spill out.

The plan was simple enough. He just had to ride his bike alongside Merle and Abraham in their car, leading the horde down the main road in the opposite direction of Alexandria. The others were going to be on either side of the horde, stopping any stragglers from wandering off and leading the horde away from the road.

It was a simple plan.

So how the fuck did it go so wrong?

Daryl had no idea, but there was shouting and commotion coming from the walkie talkie strapped to his shoulder and he had no clue what was going on.

"Rick!" He shouted into the walkie, raising his voice above the loud rumble of his bike's engine and growls from the dead behind him.

"I'm here."

"What's goin' on back there?"

"Half of them broke off. They're going toward Alexandria." Rick responded through the walkie.

Daryl's heart skipped a beat. Half of the walkers were now heading towards Alexandria? Towards his wife and kids? How did half the horde suddenly turn back around in the opposite direction?

"Towards you?" Abraham's voice questioned over the radio.

"We ran ahead. There's a horn or something loud coming from the east. It's not stopping."

Daryl reached for the walkie on his shoulder and held in the button before shouting, "I'm gonna gas it up, turn back."

"We have it. You keep going." Rick ordered.

Daryl gritted his teeth and shook his head. No, he couldn't just keep going, not when his family were in danger.

"They're gonna need our help." He said instead.

"Gotta keep the herd moving!" Rick insisted over the radio.

"Not if it's goin' down, we don't!"

"The rest of that herd turns around, the bad back there gets worse."

Daryl kept his hand on the walkie, but remained silent as a million different thoughts and scenarios ran through his head and he had absolutely no idea what to do. Rick always called the shots and Daryl usually agreed, but not with this. Not when you and the boys were back in Alexandria where half the herd were heading.

"Daryl?" Rick called through the radio.

"Yeah, I heard ya." He reassured before dropping his hand with a heavy sigh.

He glanced over his shoulder at the herd of walkers behind him before looking over at his brother in the passenger seat of the car. Merle was already looking straight at him with a shake of his head, knowing exactly what Daryl wanted to do.

He rode the bike over closer to the car, "hey! We gone five miles out yet?"

"Give or take some yardage. You got a reason for asking?" Abraham questioned, glancing over at him from behind the wheel.

Merle was still shaking his head, but Daryl chose to ignore it.

"Next intersection we're gonna spin around 'n go back."

"We have our orders, baby brother." Merle reminded. "The plan is to go 15 more."

"Yeah, I'm gonna change that. Five's gonna have to work."

"The magic number's 20. That's the mission. That's making sure they're off munching on infirm raccoons the rest of their undead lives instead of any of us." Abe responded sternly.

"You wanna go, ain't no way we can stop ya. But without you, they could stop us." Merle pointed out, motioning towards the dead behind them. "Y/N can take care of herself. Alexandria will be fine."

Daryl glanced between the two men in the car for a moment before focusing back on the road ahead, deep in thought.

What the hell was he meant to do?

He couldn’t just not do anything when his wife and kids were going to be in danger. And why was a horn honking near Alexandria? Something was definitely wrong, he could feel it in his gut, but he couldn't just leave his brother and Abraham to do this by themselves, could he?

He remained silent, riding the bike for another minute beside the car when his eyes caught a glimpse of an old, faded Alexandria sign on the side of the road from the old days, and that was all the convincing he needed.

"Nah, I got faith in ya!" Daryl shouted, sparing one last glance at his brother and Abraham before he turned the throttle and sped off down the road.

"Daryl!" Merle yelled, but he was already gone.

The man’s bruising grip around your neck was getting tighter. Your vision was starting to fade as you tried and failed to pry his fingers away.

You were going to die. This was it.

"Get away from our mum, asshole!"

A gunshot cracked through the air and the man choking you instantly released you with a cry of pain.

Without him holding you up, you collapsed to the ground on your hands and knees gasping and coughing trying to get air back into your lungs as you grabbed your tender neck.

“Touch her again, I shoot you again.” A familiar voice warned.

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. But standing off to the left was Ricky with a handgun drawn and Dean beside him with his slingshot raised.

Holy shit.

The big man that had been choking you was standing to the side holding his now bleeding arm, but his hard eyes were locked in on Ricky. You reached blindly for your knife that you had dropped earlier just as the man began to charge straight at the kids.

“NO!” You screamed jumping to your feet just as Ricky squeezed the trigger.

The man stumbled back a step grabbing his chest before dropping to the ground, dead.

Ricky killed him.

You quickly picked up your knife from the grass before stabbing him through the skull to make sure he didn’t turn.

"Mama!" Dean called, rushing over and before you could do anything, he flung his arms around your midsection and hugged you tightly.

You sighed with relief and hugged him back before glancing over at Ricky who was still standing there with a trembling gun pointed at the dead man.

You released Dean and slowly walked over to Ricky. His eyes were wide and hands shaking while he stared down at the dead body in pure shock.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Give me the gun.” You said gently, carefully reaching down and grabbing the top of the Glock before slowly pulling it out of Rickys grasp. “That’s it. It’s okay. We’re all okay.”

Ricky nodded, his wide eyes finally shifting away from the body until bright blue met your hazel eyes.

“I shot the hell out of that guy, huh?”

You snorted softly at his choice of words before kneeling in front of him and grabbing his shoulder with your free hand.

“You did the right thing, kiddo. You saved us.”

“I just did what dad and Grandpa would’ve done.” Ricky mumbled, shrugging his shoulders like he was trying not to make this a big deal.

It was a big deal though.

He just killed his first person. It was a huge deal, and if the way his body trembled a little in your hold told you anything, he knew it too. Although, like a true Dixon, he wasn’t going to say it.

"Are you okay?" Ricky asked, his eyes shifting down to your neck that was probably already starting to bruise.

You nodded looking both boys in front of you up and down for any injuries, but they seemed to be okay.

"I'm fine. Are you both okay?"

Ricky nodded, glancing over at his little brother, "we're good."

“Where did you get the gun?”

“Rosita.”

“Rosita?” You repeated in confusion and Ricky nodded. “Where is she now?”

“Fighting. She gave me the gun and told us to run and hide.”

"Why are they attacking Alexandria?" Dean asked, glancing over at the dead body.

"Because they are bad men. Really bad men. So, I need you both to be brave for me, okay?"

They instantly nodded before you stood back up and walked over to the dead man. You went through his pockets trying to find anything useful before locating a pocketknife.

Better than nothing.

"Dean, here. To open the pocketknife, you flick the blade open with your thumb just like this.” You demonstrated, holding the knife out and opening it in front of him. “To close it, you do this. So, open, like this. And close like this. Here you try.”

Dean quickly tucked his slingshot in through his belt and grabbed the pocketknife before repeating your actions to open and close the knife with ease.

“Perfect. Good boy. If you have to use it, stab 'em with the pointy end." You instructed and Dean nodded before you held your hunting knife out to Ricky who took it without hesitation. “You okay?” You asked carefully, knowing that killing a man wasn’t easy, especially for a kid.

“I’m good. What’s the plan?” Ricky asked, determination on his face.

“We're going to our house. We’ll be moving quickly and quietly, so stick to me like glue."

"Like glue." They both repeated.

You nodded, "c'mon."

To your relief, the boys listened and were right behind you with each step as you rushed around the back of Alexandria in the direction of your house.

Not even 10 steps later, you ducked down behind a cluster of bushes, pulling your sons down beside you when a man with a machete stepped out the back door of a house.

Droplets of blood beaded down the stained blade while the man stormed around the side of the house, heading for the main road completely oblivious to you three hiding nearby.

The boys remained silent beside you, their wide eyes watching the bad man nervously and once he was out of sight you motioned for them to follow before continuing to make your way to your house.

Ricky and Dean followed you like shadows all the way to the house and you opened up the back door only to be met with a barrel of a rifle.

"Easy. Easy. It's me." You hurriedly said, raising your hands as you looked over the gun at your brother.

His eyes widened and he quickly lowered it before stepping to the side letting you three into the house. You locked the back door behind you before glancing around the house, realising that Carl was alone.

"Where are the others?"

"Judith is locked in her room. Carol is out there somewhere, and Dads group isn't back yet." Carl answered.

Shit. Okay. That meant most of Alexandria’s fighters weren't here.

Carol, Maggie, Rosita, Tara and Aaron. Were they the only others left in the town that could fight? Surely there were others that could fight. There had to be.

"Okay. You boys stay inside, guard the house and protect Judith." You ordered.

Carl nodded, "nobody is getting inside this house."

"Wait, you're not going back out there, are you?" Dean asked in sudden panic.

"That woman nearly killed you." Ricky reminded.

"I have to go. These attackers don't have guns, so I can't let them find the armoury." You explained because if these people found all the guns, the community was screwed.

"Then I'll come with you." Ricky responded.

"No. You need to stay here. Give me the knife and take this.” You said, holding out the Glock towards him.

“But you need it.”

“I’ll get a gun from the armoury. Take it. Protect Judith and protect each other, okay?"

Your eldest looked like he wanted to argue further but realised now was not the time, so he reluctantly nodded trading the knife for the Glock before you glanced over at Carl.

"We got this." Your brother insisted. "Go."

"Lock it behind me." You instructed, walking through the back door once again.

You didn't leave until you heard the click of the bolt confirming that the door was locked.

The armoury was priority number one.

You needed to secure the armoury, get a gun and then find the others. One-on-one against these guys would be bad but if you were together, you'd stand a chance.

The loud honking had finally stopped, but you barely noticed while you ran along the side of the house, peaking out into the main street.

There were a few attackers running around with various melee weapons, but none had any guns. Good.

Once the attackers had turned their backs, you sprinted along the side of the street while they weren’t looking. You ducked and weaved out of trees and bushes for cover until someone suddenly stepped out from behind a porch and yanked you behind the porch steps.

You raised your knife to attack the person, but then they quickly lowered the bandana from their face and removed the black hood over their head.

"Carol?" You whispered in shock.

She was wearing their clothes and had W painted on her forehead with what looked to be blood. She was camouflaging with them. Genius.

"It's me. Here."

She pulled out a scoped rifle from her shoulder which you quickly grabbed, pulling the bolt back to check the chamber before throwing it over your shoulder with the strap.

"You went to the armoury?" You asked as she pulled out a handgun and handed it over as well.

"Yeah, it's secure. Olivia is locked inside with a gun to shoot anyone who tries to enter." She explained like she could read your mind. "There's not many left. Morgan doesn’t want to kill them, but you can."

Wait, Morgan was back? Why was he back and not the others?

"You can count on me." You replied, figuring those questions could wait.

Carol handed over spare magazines which you hastily pocketed before a scream across the street caught your attention.

You leant out from behind the porch step and quickly pulled the rifle from your shoulders when you spotted a woman sprinting from a man with a knife.

Holding the butt of the gun securely against your shoulder, you lined up the crosshairs of the scope with the man before aiming slightly in front of him and squeezing the trigger.

"Nice shot." Carol observed from beside you as the man's body fell to the ground, dead. "I can blend in with these people, but I need you up high with that sniper. Can you do that?"

You glanced up at the house behind you noting the upstairs window. That would work.

"Give me a minute to get into place and I'll be your sniper."

Carol nodded before you jumped to your feet and rushed up the porch steps into a stranger’s house. You had no idea whose house this was, but it didn't matter. Nobody was inside and within a minute, you had the window open on the second floor with the sniper raised.

Carol was still hidden by the porch steps waiting for you to get into position. You weren't entirely sure how to signal to her that you were ready, but when you spotted another attacker across the street, you lined up the sights and fired a shot.

The man, like the other, instantly fell to the ground, dead.

A few seconds later, Carol dashed across the street and stabbed her knife into the two men you had just killed, hitting their brains so they couldn't come back to life.

You watched Carol through the scope as she made her way around the community camouflaging in with the attackers and stabbing them when they least expected it, and the ones that fought back, you easily shot.

She was badass. No other word for it.

During your time in Alexandria, Carol had been playing the 'innocent housewife' she had the whole community of Alexandria fooled into thinking that she was a weak defenceless woman, but you knew the truth, and despite the situation, it was nice to see her in action.

You pulled the bolt back, ejecting the empty bullet shell just when you caught a glimpse of Aaron fighting with a man down beside a house further down the road.

Actioning the bolt, you loaded a bullet in the chamber before lining up the crosshairs over the bad guy’s head, but you couldn't pull the trigger, not when Aaron was in the line of fire. He continued to fight against the man, but it was a losing battle, and he clearly knew it too.

Aaron took a swing at his attacker causing the bad man to stumble back a step at the unexpected hit and that was all you needed before you squeezed the trigger. The gunshot rung out across the community and the man fell to the ground with a bullet hole through his head.

Aaron jumped backwards in surprise, his wide eyes scanning his surroundings trying to locate where the gunshot had come from before he spotted you up in the window and he nodded his thanks. You gave him a two fingered salute before actioning the bolt again and scanning Alexandria through the scope.

"Glenn. I'm in place by my best guess. You guys make it back yet?" Ricks voice suddenly said through the radio, followed by silence. "Glenn? Tobin, you there?"

Daryl's bad feeling from earlier was worsening by the second when the others stopped responding through the radio.

"Daryl?" Rick said after a few beats of silence.

He reached for the radio with his free hand, "I'm here."

"Won't be long now." Rick explained, relief evident through his tone after someone replied to him. "They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again."

"How 'bout that, brother? He's gonna be comin' our way." Merles cocky voice suddenly said over the radio and Daryl fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"There's gunfire coming from back home." Rick suddenly said.

Daryl squeezed the brakes so hard, he nearly crashed the bike as he came to a sudden halt in the middle of the road.

"What?!" He shouted into the radio.

"There's gunfire coming from Alexandria." Rick repeated calmly. "We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it. I think they can. They have to."

"And if they can't? Y/N is in Alexandria, Rick!" Daryl all but shouted.

"I know. But we have to keep going forward for her, for them all. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid."

"We ain't afraid." Abraham's voice pipped up.

"Going back now before it's gone, that'd be for us." Rick continued to say.

"Man, I don't give a shit. My wife 'n kids are in trouble." Daryl snapped, unable to hold back his anger any longer as he tapped the bike into gear and sped off down the road.

He couldn't risk losing them. Not now. Not after everything you guys had survived. He couldn't. He wouldn't survive if they didn't. No way.

"You think I don't know that?!" Rick snapped back. "She might be your wife, but Y/N is my daughter. She's my little girl. I hate this as much as you do. Carl and Judith are back there too, but we have to do this for them. Y/N and the others can handle whatever is going on. I know my daughter can do it and she will. Look, the herd has to be almost here-"

Ricks voice got cut off by sudden gunfire through the walkie talkie and Daryl hastily grabbed the walkie from his shoulder, heart pounding in his chest.

"Rick? Rick?!"

When he didn't receive any answers, he skidded the motorcycle to a rapid halt in the middle of the road once again.

"Rick? Rick? Rick?" He continued to shout, but no answer.

He growled letting go of the walkie and grabbing both handlebars. His fingers tightened around them as he lowered his head and took in a few deep breaths to calm himself.

He had to go back. He had to finish the job and help lead the remaining horde away.

"Fuck!" He screamed in frustration before pulling the clutch in and turning around.

You had lost count of the number of bad guys you had shot, but by the amount of bullet casings on the floor by your feet, it was a lot.

There was no sign of anymore bad guys though. The streets of Alexandria below were finally quiet. No more screaming, no crying, no horn honking, nothing.

Was it over?

God, you hoped it was over.

Throwing the rifle over your shoulder, you stood up from your position by the window before making your way downstairs and out the house.

You walked down the main street of Alexandria with your handgun grasped firmly by your side as you took in the sight around you. Dead bodies of innocent Alexandrians littered the empty street like a massacre. The bodies of the attackers laid dead around you too, blood staining the bitumen road and once green grass of the community.

It felt like you were in a scene from a horror movie while you stepped over the dead, stabbing them all through the skulls just to be on the safe side.

"Help-help me, p-please." A weak voice suddenly called out.

Your head snapped to the side and your eyes widened when you saw one of the Alexandrian housewives laying on their front lawn in a pool of their own blood.

Fuck, that wasn't good.

You rushed over, dropping to your knees beside the woman to find a very large gash across her stomach that was bleeding heavily, too heavily. The woman reached up, grabbing your shirt for dear life, her bloodied fingers staining your white shirt a bright crimson.

"It's okay. I got you. It's okay." You reassured, pulling your unzipped jacket off before bundling it up and pressing it down against her stomach causing the woman to cry out in pain. "Shh. It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

That was a total lie, and she probably knew it too.

There was too much blood. Even if you could get her to the infirmary, her entire stomach was cut open and there was no way you nor Denise would be able to do that kind of surgery to fix it.

Her body was trembling below you, but you kept pressure on the large wound because you weren't sure what else to do. Although, after a couple of minutes her fingers fell from your shirt and her body stilled.

She was dead.

"Shit." You let out a shaky sigh, dropping your hands from the bloodied jumper against her stomach.

Warm blood dripped from your fingers onto the grass as you sat there on your knees unmoving while you stared down at her.

"She's gone." Morgan's voice suddenly said.

Yeah, no shit.

You glanced over your shoulder to find the man walking over to you, his wooden staff resting on his shoulder.

"I know." You sighed, "where are the others? What happened?"

"The trucks at the quarry fell. We had to do the plan now."

"Now? As in move the horde now?" You questioned in pure shock, and he nodded. "But that horn from earlier-"

"Is drawing half the herd here, right now. Yes."

"Fuck." You hissed under your breath. "What caused the horn?"

"A truck hit the front wall. Those attackers tried to break it down. It didn't work."

"Is the wall still standing?"

"It is." He nodded, and you sighed with relief.

If half that herd of walkers was heading straight for Alexandria, you needed that wall up. Although, you weren't entirely sure how useful any of these walls would be against a large herd. If enough of them pushed against it, it would break.

You slowly stood up on unsteady feet. All your adrenaline from earlier disappearing fast as the shock of this whole situation started to set in.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked, noticing your unsteadiness.

Nope.

"Yeah."

Daryl, Rick and Merle were still out there somewhere. The street of Alexandria was covered in dead bodies. A herd of walkers were heading straight for the community. No, you definitely weren't okay.

"I gotta go." You said, already walking off in the direction of the infirmary.

There wasn't much you could do for the dead, but you could at least help Denise with the injured. However, when you stepped through the front door of the infirmary you realised that there weren’t any patients inside, alive ones at least.

Denise was halfway through covering a woman’s body with a blanket over one of the gurneys when she paused and looked up, hearing the front door open.

Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, but seemed to be determined to not let them fall as she gave you a sad smile and lowered the blanket over the blonde woman’s head.

"Is it over?" Denise asked, her voice so small you nearly missed it.

"It's over." You confirmed.

She sighed with relief before collapsing down on the stool by the bench that Tara was sitting at.

"How many are injured? I can help you guys-" Tara started to say before you cut her off.

"None. All the ones that were injured are dead. I tried to save... it doesn't matter." You sighed, looking down at your bloodstained shirt and hands.

"Some doctors we are." Denise mumbled, glancing over at the body under the blanket.

"At least you guys tried to save them. I mean, Holly had pretty bad wounds, there wasn't much you could do Denise, and Y/N, by the amount of blood on your shirt, I'm guessing there wasn't a lot you could do either, but you both still tried. That's gotta count for something." Tara insisted, looking between you both.

"I second that fact. You both are a lot braver than I am." Eugene said, speaking up for the first time across the room.

If you were being honest, you hadn't even realised the man was here which was probably very bad on your part, but it had been a long day.

Satisfied that your assistance wasn't needed in the infirmary, you returned back outside to find Michonne and a few of the others now inside Alexandria. But the relief of seeing them was only short lived.

After a brief conversation with Michonne, it was clear that the plan from earlier with the herd at the quarry went to shit. A lot of people died. Glenn and a few others were still missing. Daryl, Merle and Abraham were still trying to lead the main herd away with vehicles while Rick was out there somewhere trying to use the RV to drive the herd coming to Alexandria away.

It was chaos, and there was nothing you could do to help.

"Glenn will find a way to signal that he's alive." Michonne told Maggie.

"She's right." You backed up, looking between the two women. "He'll be fine. They all will be."

Maggie gave you a small smile as she nodded, but you could tell she was still worried. Hell, so were you, but you didn't want to say that aloud.

You wandered over to the ladder tied against the watch platform before you began to climb up to get a look at the truck that had apparently crashed into the front wall.

There was a large wooden tower-like structure just outside of Alexandria. It provided a good lookout point for the community. You had been up there many times, and it appeared that the truck the attackers were driving had crashed into the lower base of the tower before hitting the wall.

The tower now had a large crack through the middle of it but was still standing and must have slowed the truck down enough before it hit the wall because there wasn't much damage.

You had been expecting to find metal panels bent in or worse, fallen over, but the wall's structure was perfectly fine which was a miracle in itself.

"Open the gate!" A faint yet familiar voice shouted in the distance.

You turned your attention away from the tower and your jaw dropped in horror when you saw the mass number of walkers in the distance heading straight towards Alexandria.

Oh, no.

"Open the gate! Open the gate now!" Rick's voice shouted.

Wait, was he with the herd?

You quickly pulled the rifle from your back and looked through the scope towards the walkers and your stomach dropped when you spotted your father sprinting a few paces ahead of the herd, desperately trying to get to Alexandria before the dead.

"Open the gate!" You shouted, lowering the gun and looking down at Michonne and Maggie, who seemed to have already heard your fathers’ shouts and were yanking the front gate open.

Raising your rifle, you rested your head against the stock while looking through the scope towards your father only to find that a few walkers had stumbled out from the sides of the road, cutting him off.

Shit.

Without hesitation, you lined up the walkers and began to take them out one by one, creating a clear path for him to run. Rick spared a quick glance up at the watch platform noticing it was you with the rifle before he stopped trying to dodge the oncoming walkers, trusting you to take them out while he simply focused on running for his life.

The sudden pressure caused your finger to tremble against the trigger, but you made sure every single shot counted. You took the walkers down until your father finally sprinted through the front gate and the girls closed it behind him.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, ejecting the last casing from the chamber before throwing the rifle over your shoulder and hurriedly rushing down the ladder of the watch platform.

Rick was hunched over by the gate, his hands resting on his knees as he breathed heavily, sucking in fast deep breaths. His body was trembling and covered in sweat like he had just run a marathon to get here which he probably did.

His left hand was bleeding from what appeared to be a cut on his palm, but other than that he didn't appear to have any other physical injuries.

"Dad, are you okay?" You questioned, rushing over.

Your voice had him lifting his head instantly and he stumbled a few steps towards you before he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you desperately.

"Thank God. Thank God. Thank God." He mumbled repeatedly while breathing heavily.

The hug caught you off guard, but you were quick to hug him back as you stared over his shoulder at the front gate where you were met with the rotten faces of walkers pressed against it, trying to get inside.

The sea of the dead had now reached Alexandria.

Part 5

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A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the new part to this Grimes-Dixon mini series. Part 5 is coming soon, so stay tuned!

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