#last time i saw these bastards i pushed them off the fence and they were carried away by a hungry bird
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The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Five
Tom Bennett x OFC
[Masterlist]
Warnings: Language, World on Fire spoilers, two idiots not communicating? What’s new?
Word Count: 4.2K
Note: Thank you for the support on the last chapter, it’s been a tough time here and the comments and messages have really cheered me up! Little bit of TV show dialogue in here, but I think the scene with Douglas in the kitchen is an important moment for Tom.
September 1939
Somewhere in the night, a fox screeched. Summer was slowly fading to autumn, and every now and again, Tom Bennett took his hands off the cold metal to warm them with his breath. His back was growing stiff against the cold ground, but he was almost finished. Just a few more nuts and bolts. The fox screeched again. At the start of the night Tom had paused every time it sounded, now it was merely accompaniment to his, what had he told Bess? His “enterprising”.
A shaft of yellow light illuminated the gravel by Tom’s head, and he tucked his legs beneath the car. Someone somewhere had turned on a light. Fingers working faster, Tom at last pulled the pipe free and, shuffling on his back, made his way out from beneath the car. Rows upon rows of them stretched ahead of him. Perhaps just a few more. He looked to the source of the light and ducked. The owner of the scrapyard was drawing his bedroom curtains. Light distinguished, Tom found a smaller motor and made quick work removing the mirrors and bumpers.
“OI!” The white light of a torch shone in his face, and he could just make out the round figure behind it. Tom dodged the light and grabbed his bag of loot, feet kicking up gravel as he sprinted to get away. There’s no way that old bastard can keep up with me. He threw the sack of metal over the high fence and before launching himself at it, hauling his weight over the other side and sprinting down the street with his bag of swag. By the time the scrapyard owner had unbolted the gate, he was out of sight.
Ten minutes later, Tom came to a halt at the end of the ginnel connecting his street to the Off Licence opposite. Inside, he could see the shopkeeper wiping down the windows for the night. Resting the stolen bumpers and bag of scrap against the ginnel wall, Tom opened the offy door.
“Still open?”
“If you’re quick, Tom.”
“Packet of Marlboro please.” As the old man turned around, Tom slipped a bar of Cadburys from the counter into his jacket pocket.
“Sixpence.” Tom slid over the coin and left without a word. He went home the back way, best to avoid Douglas and Lois when carting around a bag of stolen goods. Depositing it under the old dust sheet, Tom silently entered the house. The lights were off. Shutting the door, he moved through the kitchen and towards the front of the house, where he exited onto the street. The Vaughns’ lights were off too. Tom glanced at his watch. 11pm. He had hoped to catch Bess before bed. Autumn might have been on its way, but as Tom glanced up, he saw that the Vaughn girls clearly thought it too warm to shut their bedroom window.
He scrabbled up the drainpipe and pushed the window sash further open before pulling himself inside. Not a one of the girls stirred. Cora, hair in a bonnet, had her back to him. The blanket she slept with had uncovered her feet, and as Tom tiptoed across the room, he tucked them in again. Dot was snoring gently, her mouth open a little and he couldn’t help but smile. She was as worry free in sleep as she was in life. Beside her in the bed they shared, Bess was curled into a ball, one hand beneath her head and the other lolling out of the bed. Unlike her sisters, Bess’ hair was loose and knotted across her pillow. She was so still, Tom watched a moment to see if she was breathing. The blanket rose and fell just a little. Edging forward, Tom reached into his jacket pocket and produced the bar of Cadburys. He placed it on Bess’ bedside table, next to her books. The girls would be cold by dawn so, as he left once more down the drainpipe, he closed the window.
✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼
“Dot!”
Next morning, Bess stood by the stove over the eggs and bacon, occasionally popping a square of chocolate from her apron into her mouth. Albie sat at the kitchen table, darning a pair of socks as Fergal sat in his armchair by the wireless. Cora shouted up the stairs again.
“Dot! Come and help!” There was no reply. Cora huffed and returned to Bess’ side. “She’s going to get a rude awakening when she turns eighteen. If she wants to be treated like an adult, she’ll have to put her shift in. We can’t afford this laziness.” Bess hummed in agreement and flipped the eggs as Cora set the table. She was right, of course. With five adults in the house, money was tight even with each of them working. They couldn’t afford for Dot not to pull her weight around the house.
“Hush your clattering,” Fergal waved his hand at Cora, who had begun placing cutlery at the table.
“Dadda!” she exclaimed, indignant.
“Make your own sodding breakfast,” Bess muttered under her breath.
“Ssh!” Albie joined in as their father moved to turn up the wireless. The crackling voice of Neville Chamberlain filled the kitchen.
“I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us.”
Bess turned from the stove. Fergal was wringing his hands and Albie had placed his worn socks on the table. Cora’s eyes were filling with shocked tears.
“I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany. You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed…”
Cora placed a hand atop Albie’s shoulder. Not knowing what else to do, Bess silently plated up the eggs and bacon. How silly, eating seemed now. She stared at the plates of food, placed the pan in the sink and removed her apron. Not one of them moved.
“…And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage.” Fergal switched the wireless off and silence reigned. Beyond the window, Bess watched a few people scurry up and down the street, surely visiting friends to check that what they heard was true.
“Police!” Dot came crashing down the stairs. “The police are back!” The three sisters ran to the window and, when the police entered the Bennett home, Dot and Bess rushed into the street. Fergal and Albie still did not move. Bess worried at the skin of her thumb. She had always known this day would come. Beside her, Dot was jumping on the balls of her feet, hands clasped under her chin, a look akin to excitement in her eyes.
“Dot!” Bess snapped. “It doesn’t do to enjoy other people’s misfortune, especially not our friends.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Hush.” Dot’s face fell in shame, and Bess knew she was trying not to cry. Cora and Bess had had much more responsibility at seventeen than Dot had. Yes, she was young but my God she could be naïve.
It wasn’t long before the Bennett’s front door opened again, and Tom exited in handcuffs flanked either side by a policeman. His steps were heavy, wanting to make it harder for them, and a pleased look was plastered across his face. Lois and Douglas were not far behind and lingered in the doorway.
“Tom!” Dot shouted, now upset. His head snapped up to the girls across the street and his face fell. For the first time in his life, he saw Bess Vaughn look scared. Her eyebrows were knitted together, eyes wide with worry, usually plush lips a line of concern. Tom barely had time to take her in before a hand on his head forced him into the police car. Fergal pushed his way past his daughters and steered Douglas back into his home. Cora followed and scooped Lois into a hug. Bess watched the police car round the corner, staring at the back of Tom’s head, before retreating into the house. She picked up two plates of untouched bacon and eggs. Albie was still sat at the table, staring into nothingness. Dot ran upstairs, trying to hide her sobs.
When Bess entered the Bennett home, she found Douglas and her father at the kitchen table, Cora helping Lois fold some washing. She placed the food on the table.
“Oh,” Douglas looked up at Bess. “Thanks, love.” She went to stand with her sister. Lois took her hand in thanks.
“I was just telling Cora,” Lois began. “Theft and assault. That’s what they got him for.”
“Assault?”
“That bloke at the dance.”
“But that was weeks ago-”
Lois nodded. “I think they wanted to build up a few charges. That way he couldn’t wriggle out the way he always does. They’ve taken him into Manchester central.” At the kitchen table, Fergal and Douglas talked in worried whispers, and Bess knew that while each was worried for their sons, memories of thirty years passed were flooding their minds.
✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼
The world turned upside down, and Bess knew it would take a long time to right itself. Cora and Dot were given a week off from the factory while it was converted for munitions production. War work begins at home, and soon Bess’ sisters would be making bullet casings. Fergal kept working down the dockyard, transporting goods from the factories to navy auxiliaries. As for Bess, fewer clients called and already the haberdasher’s supply of fabric was dwindling. Bored, determined and anxiously awaiting news of Tom, she took a job at the old cotton mill, making uniforms for the influx of the British Army’s new recruits. One such recruit, was Albert Vaughn.
Not two days after Tom’s arrest, Albie took the tram into the city centre. The girls had settled down for dinner when he returned home that night with a set of leaflets, his sign-up papers and a proud aspect to his gait. Fergal, who had barely eaten since the outbreak of war, looked up from his armchair by the fire. Each child watched him. From his dear girls’ faces, his eyes wandered to Albie who stood hesitantly at the table. His only son.
“Dadda?” Albie whispered.
“Just let me take you all in.” Cora smiled sadly at this, and Bess reached for her father’s hand. Dot held back a sob. “Who knows when we five will be together like this again?” They were silent a while, then Fergal stood. He kissed Bess’ hand and let it go, moving round the table to stand in front his son. He stretched out a hand. Albie looked at it and then back to the face of his father. They shook hands and when Albie let go, Fergal wrapped his arms around him. Dot started to sniffle, and Cora cuddled her close. Albie kissed the top of his father’s greying head. “I’ll be alright, dadda.”
A week later, and two since the arrest, Fergal came home with the news that Tom Bennett was to be released from prison.
“What did they charge him with, dadda?” Cora asked as she took his coat.
“I don’t know, passed Douglas and Lois on their way to pick him up.” Bess, knees tucked in the armchair, listened. When they said no more, she spoke softly.
“Have you got plans for this evening, Cora?”
Her sister jumped. “God, Bess, I thought you were sleeping! Well, Lois is singing later so Dot and I thought we’d go down. I would have asked but you said you were tired from the shift.”
Bess nodded. “Dadda, what about you?”
“Going for a drink down The Crown with Douglas and Albie. Don’t know if Tom’s coming, I imagine they’ve got him under house arrest.”
“The police?” chimed in Dot.
“Nah, Lois and Douglas.” Fergal chortled. Bess nodded once more and curled up in the seat, face turned towards the heat emanating from the hearth. She’d wait until they’d all left and sneak over to the Bennett’s. Two weeks remand was a long time for a petty crime, and she was desperate to know why they had let him saunter back to Longsight.
By the time Cora and Dot had left for the dancehall it was 9 o’clock, the men long gone to the pub. Dot had wanted Bess to lower the neckline of her dress and heighten the hem. Cora and Bess bargained with her for just the hem. Bess waited a little while before she hurried across the street and thank goodness she did. Now sooner was she putting on her brogues than was Dot racing through the door having forgotten her lipstick. Bess watched her chase after Cora, who was rounding the street corner, before closing the front door and making her way to the Bennett’s. Just as she stepped onto the pavement, the door opened.
“Hello,” Tom grinned at her.
“Hi,” Bess stared at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance at the door. She recovered herself. “You off out?”
He shrugged. “Was gonna see where the night took me.” He stepped back into the house and held the door open for her. What Bess didn’t know was the night had been taking him straight to her doorstep. She brushed past him and took a seat in the rocking chair by the fire, one trousered leg braced against the fire grate. “Very ladylike,” Tom pulled up a chair from the table. Bess smiled sadly, not looking at him. The quiet of the kitchen was amiable, and nothing out of the ordinary between she and Tom. How many nights had they spent in each other’s company without saying a word? Hundreds, surely. But Bess’ unasked question blocked the air around her and she felt as though speaking it would be like trying to shout through tar. The rustle of paper caused her to look up.
Tom held up a pamphlet. Pacifist Handbook. Bess raised her eyebrows. “What? You’ve worked out how to read?” Tom smacked her teasingly with the pamphlet.
“No,” his Mancunian accent always sounded so strong when he said it, and Bess laughed. “They said I could avoid prison if I signed up.”
Bess glanced at the pamphlet and her cheeks began to burn, though with fear, anger or disappointment she didn’t know. “So you said told them join up.” Tom nodded.
“I’ve got no intention of getting shot at,” he waved the pamphlet again. “I’m joining the conchie club.” Tom leant back in his seat and placed his feet on the table, a self-satisfied smile crossing his face.
“Oh, Tom-” he could hear the disappointment in her voice so he stopped her.
“Do you want me to go to war?”
“No, of course I don’t!” Bess leant across the table, arm reaching out but not quite touching him. “But surely the police won’t believe you? Someone getting arrested for assault suddenly becoming a pacifist?”
Tom shook his head and looked anywhere but at Bess. He propped a cigarette between his lips, and Bess knew the discussion was finished. Chin pushed forward and shoulders tensed, he became surlier by the minute. Desperate to talk to him, she told him about the factory, Albie signing up, her new job at the British Battledress, and how their fathers had been spending more time together, at the pub or chatting late into the evening. At this, Tom sombred.
“I wish mum was here,” he said.
“Me too.” Bess gripped his hand now, though neither spoke. The front door clicked. Lois. “I’ll go out the back.” She squeezed his hand. This time, Bess was the first to let go. Tom watched her dash through the yard and out the back gate before fumbling for the pamphlet and pretending to look as though he was reading.
“That your pacifist face?” Lois said, entering the kitchen and hanging up her coat. “Might have to try a bit harder.”
“You too if that’s your happy face.” Tom said. He turned back to the pamphlet. “I’ve got a shirt ‘needs ironing, if you need to take your mind off Harry and that.” Lois sighed and, taking her dress in hand, stormed up the stairs.
“Oh come on, Lois, I was joking-” Their bedroom door slammed. Tom sighed and threw the pamphlet on the table. Out of jail all of five minutes and already winding people up, nice one Tom.
✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼ ✼
Tom kept a low profile over the next few days. The Bennetts were the talk of the street and, while a little gossip added nicely to the upkeep of his reputation, Tom decided it was time to give his family a break. On the fifth day of his release, he walked into central; he’d done enough reading of his dad’s peace papers, it was time to come good on his word. Ambling lazily down the steps of the town hall, Tom joined the shorter of the lines and tapped the man in front of him on the shoulder.
“’Scuse me, mate. Is this the conchie queue?” The man looked around nervously, as did his fellows before him. Tom smiled and patted his shoulder patronisingly. “Alright, mucker, stop shaking. I’m on your side.”
“Coward’s side more like.” A tall man shouted from the other side of the hall. Tom looked at him slowly and sucked in his cheeks. He strolled towards the enlister.
“I’ll fight mate, I just won’t fight for this shit. So, if you do want some, bring your dinner and let’s get to it.” Each man turned to face Tom. Some sized him up. Some looked shocked. Some pacifist, they thought. Others were wary.
“Please, this is hard enough as it is.”
“Yeah, not for me it isn’t.”
He didn’t know why he did it. To spite his father, to get away from Manchester, to finally be somebody? To prove to this dickhead he wasn’t a coward? Whatever the reason, when he arrived home that evening with the news he was going to sea, Douglas stared at him in flabbergasted disbelief before launching into a tirade.
“The navy? The bloody navy?” He knew his dad wouldn’t like it, but he hadn’t expected this. “Can’t even steer a pedalo.” Douglas scoffed.
“Well at least it’s not the army, eh? And I’m not going to prison so,” Tom shrugged as though this answered everything.
“I must be stupid. I thought you’d actually become a pacifist. Really believed in it.”
Once more, Tom had invoked disappointment in someone he loved. “Yeah I don’t really believe in anything full on dad.” He hissed quickly. “And at least I’m fighting on the right side, at least gimme that!”
“Everybody thinks that! Every war they fight-!”
“Yeah, well this one’s different-”
“Every war’s different! Until it’s the same!” They were shouting at each other now. “Lois. Talk some sense into him, will ya?” There was a pause while Tom waited for Lois to chastise him.
“Can’t do that dad,” Tom turned in his chair to watch her. She looked at him briefly before continuing. “I think he’s right to join up. At least he’s getting out in the world,”
“Yeah, to get shot or blown up.” I’ve had enough of this. “Or do the same to other lads no older than him who have no idea why they’re fighting either!” Douglas bellowed after Tom as he stood from the chair without a word, grabbed his jacket and slammed the yard door. Thank God for Lois. She could see. No more wandering for Tom Bennett. He was going to see the world, fight for his country and make them proud. As he turned into the street, he bumped into a squat figure.
“Sorry, Fergal.” He grabbed the man by the shoulders to prevent him from falling over.
“S’right, lad.” He didn’t look into Tom’s face. Rather, stared at a point just below his chin with a glazed expression and stumbled away. Tom watched him go. Shit. He pulled his keys from his pocket and wandered up the street. The gentlest chimes of piano began to sound, a foxtrot he thought. Smiling to himself, Tom approached the Vaughn house and looked through the window. Bess was sat at the piano, though he could tell even in the dim light that her heart wasn’t in playing tonight. He put his key in the door. It was unlocked. She stopped playing when he entered.
“Bess?” He whispered. She span on her piano stool to face him. She wasn’t crying, though from the redness of her eyes and flush of her cheeks, he knew she had been.
“You saw Dadda then?”
“Walked straight into him.”
Bess stood to pour Tom a cup of tea from the pot on the table. She was dressed for bed, nightdress reaching her calves, a thin dressing gown thrown haphazardly over the top. Thick woollen socks were bunching at her ankles, making her look like a child. Just like when he’d snuck in to leave her the chocolate, her hair was unpinned and tumbling in frizzy strands down her back.
“He’s frightened,” she said, passing Tom the cup. “The nightmares have started up again. He’s barely eating! And the worst thing is, he’s terrified of losing Albie. Uncle Colm died in the first war, mam only a few years ago. I think he’ll break if he loses someone else.” A breath shuddered from her chest and she gathered herself and tried to smile. “Well. At least your dad won’t have to worry about losing you, hey?” Bess sipped her own tea and looked brightly at Tom. His cup remained held in his hand as he looked at her. “Tom?”
“I joined up today,” he whispered. The cup almost fell from Bess’ hands.
“I don’t understa-”
“Joined the navy. Come on Bess, you know me. I can’t sit around and watch everyone else have all the fun and glory,” he tried to joke but it fell flat in the quiet of the kitchen.
“When do you go?”
“Off to Liverpool in a few days to start basic training.” Bess nodded at him and her bottom lip quivered. Tom wanted to go to her. To say he’d stay, but before he had the chance to move, Bess placed her cup on the table and came to stand in front of him. Her arms found their way around his shoulders and held him tight. One hand rubbed his hair and the action made Tom’s hands fly to her waist and pull her closer. She smelt of fresh laundry and vanilla. Face buried in her hair, Tom suddenly became aware of how little Bess was wearing. His hands were lingering just above the curve of her bottom, and he could feel her breasts through the thin fabric. He’d be dead before he put on his uniform if Fergal staggered through the door. He pulled away from her a little but she held onto his shoulders, studying his face. In the dark light, she could see the flush of his cheeks and the worry in his blue eyes.
“This could be the making of you, Tom Bennett.”
He swallowed but couldn’t speak. For the first time, he was speechless.
“Can you do something for me, Tom?” He’d do anything for Bess. “Will you get a picture taken?”
He coughed awkwardly. “You what?” It was Bess’ turn to blush but her serious gaze had returned.
“Will you get a picture taken? Albie’s had one done for us, and I-I-” she huffed in annoyance. “I’d like one of you.”
“Ok.”
They stared at each other in the darkness, and when Bess took his hand and kissed it, she meant to.
Note: For those outside the UK, a ginnel is a small alleyway, normally behind a row of terraced houses. It’s a word used a lot in the north of England, growing up my mum used it a lot. Mucker, too, is a northern word that means ‘mate’. Off Licences (offy) are liquor stores.
My paternal grandmother worked in a makeup factory before the war. The women that worked there were known locally as the powder puff girls 😊 When war broke out, it became a munitions factory, which is the inspiration behind that part of the story! Here she is!
Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @sophielangdonx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa
#ewan mitchell#tom bennett#tom bennett x reader#tom bennett x ofc#world on fire#ewan mitchell x reader
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Obsession Part 2
I'm gonna be real, I'm not thrilled with either of these, but theyre very feel goody to write
part 1
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Dream let out a noise that can only be described as ‘God, strike me now’. “Just when I thought the crappy punch was the most disgusting thing here,” he snapped, throwing back the last of his beer in hopes of dulling his growing headache.
George scoffed, downing a swig of his own drink and leaning back against the wall- entirely too close to Dream for his own liking, but he didn’t have much choice. Dream was here for the same reason he was: this was the best spot to watch you dance with your little dorm friends. “Insults? What are we, in middle school? You’re pathetic.”
“... You look good.”
George chuckled at the unspoken question. “Yeah, razor blades in the soap bar is such an amateur move, I almost felt bad for you.” Dream simply clicked his tongue. “Speaking of, I saw your car out front.”
“Neighbor asked how I found such a dedicated mechanic. You really couldn’t get in, cut my brakes, and get out without being seen? Sounds like you’re the amateur.”
“Are you kidding me? I scaled that fence in under ten seconds, easy. In and out in a minute, only thing I didn’t account for was you living next to a damn Karen.”
Dream peeled his eyes off you for the first time that night to raise an eyebrow. “How’d you get in the garage, anyway?”
George let out a snicker as he swirled his drink around in its plastic cup. “Oh, yeah, I had to break open the back window. Might wanna get that fixed, the frame cracked easier than an egg.”
“You’re such a cocky little bastard. You really think my baby would like such a creep?”
“My darling told me herself how much she likes my ingenuity. What she’d never like is some meathead-”
“Oh, I’m a meathead, am I? Funny, ‘cause she was just telling me she loves my emotional intelligence.”
“Please, you wrote her a few frilly poems- that’s practically nothing compared to how much I’ve helped her with coursework.”
“You just can’t take a hint, can you? I feel bad for you, so I’ll tell you straight: she’s using you. She’d be stupid not to take advantage-”
George’s blade dug into Dream’s side, hidden from the horde of drunks by his sleeve. “Don’t you dare insult her!”
“-of a smarmy, pathetic-”
“Hey, knock it off!”
They both snapped to attention at your beautiful voice, filled with far more resentment than you’d ever used with them. There you were, as gorgeous as ever in your favorite dress, pushing away some drunk, insignificant, unworthy frat boy who dared to touch your perfect body.
“He’s mine,” Dream growled out without a second thought, seeing red as you (always too sweet, too kind) tried to push the insect away gently, only to have him push up against you again. He was already fantasizing about how satisfying it would be to feel the crack of bones under his hand, and how with each fracture he’d reiterate don’t touch what’s mine.
“I’ve got her.” George couldn’t believe how he could let this happen. He should have clocked the drunk as soon as he was within arm’s reach of you. He wanted to blame Dream for distracting him, maybe cut him up a bit to relieve some tension, but that was the easy way out. He should have been watching you, protecting you. This couldn’t happen again.
He came up behind you and wrapped long fingers around your wrist, spinning you to face him. “Hey, luv,” he chirped, covering up the choking sound as Dream wrapped his arm around the bastard’s neck and hauled him away the second your back was turned.
“Georgie!” He nearly moaned as you wrapped your arms around him, stumbling in your heels and pressing against him for stability. “I didn’t know you were- oh, Georgie, this is-” You visibly blanked when you turned around and the man wasn’t there. “Where’d he go?”
“I think you’ve been drinking too much, darling,” George hummed into your ear, one hand on your waist to keep you steady and against him as the other plucked your cup out of your hand. He took a small, testing sip and felt his blood boil. “That cunt spiked it? He’s gonna fucking wish we turned him in to the cops.”
“Hey,” you slurred with a giggle, hands pressed against his chest giving a tug on his shirt. “That’s mine, silly. I- can I-” You whined when the words wouldn’t come out, crashing your forehead down on his collarbone, snuggling into his neck. God, you were close. Your breath washed over his neck as you sighed, blood rushing through his veins practically under your lips. What he wouldn’t do-
No. He’d gotten distracted once tonight, it wouldn’t happen again.
“Oops,” he mumbled out dryly as he let the plastic cup fall to the floor, giving it a kick to make sure everything spilled out and started soaking into the carpet. He was confident absolutely no one would notice the stain among the others. “Why don’t we get you back to your dorm, and you can have a drink there, okay?” That drink was going to be a bottle of water he personally checked over for tampering, but you didn’t need to know that.
“But I love this song,” you hummed, jerking away from him so suddenly he had to tighten his grip to keep you upright. “Ooh, dance with me, Georgie!”
You moved like sin in that tight dress, but he steeled his nerves and guided you towards the front door. “Let’s dance outside, luv. Come on, this way.” You caught sight of the punch bowl and started changing direction. “No- okay, new plan,” George huffed. He grabbed your hand and twirled you, making you cheer, and promptly threw you over his shoulder.
“Whoooa! I’m so high up, Georgie! You’re so tall!”
“Sure am, darling.” He tried his absolute damnedest to keep his hands respectful. You were going to be sober when he touched you intimately for the first time- sober and begging for it. But your skirt was scooching up with every step, and the only way to stop it was a hand just barely under your ass. He thought if you were having a similar issue with the top and decided he might have to kill everyone there just to make sure they didn’t see you like that and live. Probably only a couple of hundred people in the house who would have to die. He could live with those numbers. Except Dream’s nostrils flared when he saw George carrying you, so he thought he might not live to get the job done. “Drink was salty,” he relayed, and just like that Dream’s anger was put back on the bastard they let get to you.
“Put her down-”
“Dreamy?” You tried to twist around, and it made it harder for George to hold you, so he complied, biting his tongue as you ran into Dream’s chest. “Hi, Dreamy! Georgie and I are gonna dance- dance with us!”
“Oh no, baby, we’re gonna get you home,” he purred, rubbing your back with one hand and yanking your skirt down with the other. “Come on, you can sit up front-”
“Is that safe?”
“Did you fix it since I got at it?”
“I just replaced the brakes yesterday.”
“Did you fuck with anything else?”
George sighed in relief. “Alright. You heard him, luv, go on.”
They watched you falter at his words, spinning around. “You’re coming, too… right?” They looked at each other, wondering how much longer they could be within arms reach without killing each other. “Come on, Georgie-” You gasped, falling against Dream and smacking his chest. “We can have a sleepover! Slumber party! Oh, please, Dreamy, please!”
“How could I say no to you, sweetheart?” “Especially when you say my name so pretty, begging for me so nice.” “Just climb in, baby, we’re gonna have a nice slumber party.”
You fell asleep less than halfway home. Barely stirred as Dream carried you in and George took off your shoes to put you in bed.
“What the fuck are you doing,” George hissed, breath catching in his throat as you groaned in your sleep, but unable to let Dream get away scot-free.
“Shut the fuck up, you’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.” Your dorm key was easy to find, one of three things in the tiny purse you took partying, and Dream kept a quick mold kit in his glove box just in case. “Besides, we both know you’re gonna lift this off me, then I’ll strangle you to get it back, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Ooh, that’s a big word for you.” Dream replaced your key and slipped the kit into his back pocket to free up his hands to offer George a double middle-finger salute. “Charming. If you’re done…” He motioned to the door, making sure it was locked behind them. They walked in silence back to Dream’s car, but George broke the peace as he leaned back against the hood. “So what happened to the prick?”
Dream let out a deep sigh, leaning against the driver’s side door. “Couldn’t kill him,” he mourned. “Too many people saw us leave together.”
“He spiked lovely’s drink.” His voice was thick in disgust as he started flicking his knife open and closed- he needed to make something bleed.
“Broke his nose,” Dream mused like he hadn’t heard. His voice was quiet as he thought back, trying to recall all the cracks he heard. “Dislocated shoulder- left. The arm he kept putting around her. Broke a few toes when I stomped on his foot…” He pulled a student I.D. card out of his front pocket. “And swiped this and a few hundred bucks.” He let George snatch it, blade glinting in the streetlamp as he started flicking it faster, practicing basic tricks- warming up. Dream watched the blade move with practiced precision, rolling over George’s wrist without the slightest mark left behind.
“... I’ll share him for a copy of baby’s schedule.”
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Video Killed The Radio Star- Chapter 3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Same things applies with the asterisks in this chapter, I hoped it helped last chapter! Please remember that if anything relates to you in this series that you are not alone and you are loved! I am begging you all to read the warnings and be safe. Thank you for all the love and support! Please enjoy this chapter. Love, Em :)
Warnings: Infidelity, cursing, blood, gruesome imagery, mentions of suicide, disturbing content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead (After the interrogation a very dark scene will occur, please, please be wary)
Plot: The team start to piece some new information together and get a little bit closer to finding you, Morgan and Reid unknowingly meet with their Unsub.
Word Count: 3k
The first shop Derek and Spencer visited was a tiny shop just around the corner from the library, they proceeded to bombard the manager with questions. Had they seen a beautiful woman come in here, asked if anyone had bought an insane amount of roses around Valentine’s Day. They got an abundance of death glares for that question, it did seem stupid.
They didn’t get anywhere till store number five, a slightly bigger store that seemed to be closer to your apartment complex. Behind the counter stood a red-headed woman, looking extremely bored. Her name tag read, Sorrel, and her posture became straighter as the two men approached the counter. “Welcome into the Rose Bud, how can I help the two of you today?” her voice didn’t seem to match her, Spencer assumed it was just her ‘customer service’ voice.
“Hi,” Derek motioned between the two of them, smiling, “I’m Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI. Are you the manager?”
Her eyes went wide at the sound of ‘FBI’, but she didn’t seem nervous just surprised. “Manager? No, our manager is Heather.” She glanced over at the clock mounted on the wall before frowning “Heather left early today around four, usually, she’s here from open to close but she got a call from her husband and left.”
Spencer spoke up this time “What time do you open?”
“We’re open from nine in the morning till seven in the afternoon. Why are you asking about Heather?”
“We just wanted to ask her a couple of questions,” Morgan answered gently, he didn’t want to panic the girl more. “Do you think she would be alright with us visiting her house, to ask her some questions?”
Sorrel bit her lip gently, she had a hard time saying ‘no’ to people, so she nodded a very slow ‘yes’. “I don’t think she would mind, no.” she opened a drawer, pulled out a notepad, and started to write down Heather’s home address, handing the paper over to Derek quickly. “She’s not in trouble, right?”
“I doubt it, ma’am.”
Heather lived in the suburbs, a white picket fence adorned with bushels of flowers, rose bushes, azaleas, peonies, etc. There was no doubt she had a green thumb. According to Garcia, her husband was in the navy and had been deployed to Okinawa, Japan. They got married when she was twenty, a couple of years after she dropped out of college.
When she opened the door her hair was wet, but even Spencer took note that she was, indeed, beautiful. She invited the two of them in, getting two glasses of water for them as they sat in her living room. Her living room had grey walls with forest green accents, Spencer found it aesthetically pleasing. She set two glasses on the dark green coffee table using coasters, said coasters had different flowers on each one. She noticed how Spencer’s eyes lingered on the coasters and she smiled before saying “They were a gift,” she sat down “When you work with anything floral people just default to flowers.”
Morgan laughed lightly and nodded “I understand that.” Heather smiled at him before she let out a tiny sigh.
“So, how can I help you?”
“We just wanted to ask some questions regarding your customers, see if you had any regular customers, possibly a woman?”
“I’m sorry, but could you be a little more specific?”
“She probably seemed on edge, came in on Valentine’s Day and bought quite a bit of rose’s?”
“Valentine’s Day? You’re joking right? Everyone buys roses on Valentine’s Day!”
“We know, we know, maybe she came in later on in the day, possibly near closing?”
Heather bit her lip, doing a phenomenal job of not smiling, before she let out a tiny gasp. “Yes! Oh, what was her name?” she asked herself as she tapped her temples gently “Adeline Smith! She came in just before closing, looked like she had been crying all day or something, bought a big order of roses she reserved the day before, all red roses. I remember she used a credit card, it had a picture of her family on it.” Heather smiled a little, letting it drop as she feigned concern. “We went to college together, well before I dropped, is she okay?”
“I’m sure she is,” Derek said as he stood up, Spencer following quickly. Heather led them to the door, exchanging pleasantries with the two men with the sweetest smile, closing the door gently as the two men were walking down her driveway towards their car. Her smile dropped as soon as the door shut, she turned on her heel and headed upstairs to a sealed door with locks decorating it. She unlocked them as fast as she could. Her mind was racing, you were just right upstairs and those men, those filthy, horrible men could have found you. They could have exposed the love the two of you shared, she couldn’t let that happen. Then she stepped into the pink room.
***
The morphine was wearing off slowly, it started about an hour ago. The throbbing pain in your foot was coming back slowly but now you felt more awake. You were able to sit up on the heart-shaped bed, scooting back so you could rest against the headboard. It was possible that over the course, well actually you didn’t know what day it was, you only knew it was a weekday because the other two days she had been with you almost all day. Your eyes scanned the walls, foam padded them and you didn’t see any windows so you assumed that the room was sound proofed, you frowned.
While you were happy you could have a complete thought, you were slowly become more convinced that you were never going to get out here. Years would pass and you wouldn’t remember your name, you would be Catherine. Maybe Heather would kill you. Then a sudden and terrifying thought snuck in, what if you fell in love with Heather? Would it come to the point that you would be so brainwashed to love someone so delusional?
The sound of keys jingling and locks unlocking brought you back to reality. You didn’t have time to think about the future, not when Heather was coming in with a frown on her face. “Catherine,” her frown dissipated as she shut the door behind her, quickly making her away over to you. You tried your hardest to move closer to the bed, Heather noticed this and let out a sigh as she sat on the bed next to you. “I know I look mad, some terrible men,” she pulled you over to her by the arm, stroking your hair quickly “Some terrible men, tried to take you away today.” You turned your head towards her, speaking in a shaking voice.
“Men?”
“Men. It’s always men. I hate them, all of them. They’re all pigs, honestly.” Heather pushed some hair out of your face before she continued “My husband, he’s gone right now, thank god, he’s such a bastard. Sleeps around on me, can you believe that? He sleeps with other women, while he’s married to me!” her eyes met yours and she relaxed more “That’s why I’m so glad I have you, my dear Catherine.” she whispered gently as she leaned in to kiss you on the lips sweetly, a shiver shooting down your spine as you tried your best to disassociate from the situation.
Heather pulled away with a soft giggle, she looked so desperately happy, a complete one-eighty from how she was when she came in just a few seconds ago. You tried to think back to college, tried to think about how she used to be. “You know I remember when I first saw you,” Heather spoke up as she ran her fingers through your messy hair slowly “, it was move-in day and you were walking back downstairs when you saw me struggling to pick up some boxes and you stopped, bent down and helped me. I was so happy that someone so kind saw me and picked me.”
You hung on her words, wondering why she decided to say that you picked her, when in fact you just simply helped her. Was that all it took for someone to become obsessed? Your stomach twisted with anxiety as Heather pulled you in her lap, hugging you around the waist. “If they ever found you, I don’t know what I’d do,” she trailed off slowly before she rested her chin on your back “ If they ever found us, I’d have to kill you and then I would kill myself.” Heather decided in a quick moment, hoping that they would never find you and you, wanting to stay alive, felt the same.
That night, Heather had fallen asleep in the same bed as you. You, however, didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire night, you thought about the keys she had carelessly thrown on the dresser, but you didn’t think you had the strength to make that type of move. In all her madness, Heather had forgotten to feed you. An empty stomach, mixed with veins filled with morphine was not a good mix, and despite your disgust, you were finding it hard to stay awake. As soon as Heather left in the morning, your eyes closed.
***
Spencer and Morgan called Garcia on their way back to the Richmond police station, learning that Adeline was a widow and a mother of one daughter. When they got back, J.J. carefully placed a photo of Adeline on the whiteboard. “It seems like Adeline Smith and Heather Alexander both went to the same college as Y/N L/N, all lived in the same hall and possibly on the same floor.”
Prentiss spoke up “Are we sure the unsub is a woman?” Spencer nodded as he wrote down some information underneath Adeline’s photo.
“It’s possible that when her husband died, Y/N reached out and that’s when the obsession started.”
“Let’s bring her in for some questions before we decide that,” Hotch said, then the team headed out.
March 9, 20XX
The next day, Adeline was cradling her cup of water, seeming extremely depressed as she waited for someone to come into the interrogation room. Her mind should have been at the police station, but all she could think about was her daughter. Her daughter was currently sleeping in a hospital bed. “Adeline,” Prentiss’s voice broke her away from her thoughts in a second. “Thank you for coming in today.” Adeline nodded, feeling suddenly stiff.
“You knew Y/N L/N in college, correct?” Another nod. “Would you say the two of you were close?”
Adeline smiled at the thought of you, of course, the two of you were close, you were at her wedding. “Yes, we were roommates. Y/N was my best friend, she was at my wedding, and when John,” Adeline paused and took a sip of her water. “When John died, she made some dinners for me and Anna, my daughter.” she finished, looking Prentiss in the eyes. Behind glass Reid and Hotch shared a look before turning their attention back to the interrogation.
“Did you ever visit Y/N at work?”
“The library? No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t have the time to visit people most days,”
“Did you visit her after Christmas?”
“No!”
Prentiss sighed, leaning in towards Adeline, “I understand that you love her, you wanted to visit her. You gave her all those flowers on Valentine’s Day.”
“No, I didn’t! Valentine’s Day? I was at the hospital on Valentine’s Day, my daughter, that’s her birthday! I went to Heather Alexander’s stupid floral shop to get roses for her.”
“For your daughter?”
“Yes,” she stopped for a second and looked down at the table “She has leukemia, we, I mean I found out this December and she’s six. She’s six and she wanted her prince charming to come to the hospital with flowers. So I hired an entertainer and bought a shit ton of roses for her. Heather, she and I were never that close, but Y/N liked her, so she gave me a good deal on them and held them for me.”
Prentiss slid a photo, taken on Valentine’s Day, of your apartment covered head to toe in rose petals. Adeline let out a small sound, almost sounding impressed “So, her boyfriend or whatever was being romantic. Is that why I’m here?” She looked up at Prentiss.
“This past few months, Y/N learned she had a stalker, unfortunately, officials can’t step in till something happens. On Valentine’s day, Y/N came home to her apartment that had been covered with red rose petals. This past Saturday, Y/N was abducted from her apartment in Richmond.”
Adeline suddenly felt sick to her stomach, thinking about how her friend was missing and how she was just now finding out because she was a suspect. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She announced, standing up and running over to the bin in the room to vomit.
Prentiss shot a look over her shoulder towards the glass where the rest of her team was standing, unseen, they all knew that this wasn’t their unsub. Adeline was hunched over the trash bin as Prentiss brought her another cup of water. “Thank you so much for your time today, Adeline.”
***
The next day Heather was there in the morning to open up her shop, her smile was as bright as the sun as she flipped the lights on. People usually commented that everyone looks better when they smile, but the smile that Heather was wearing on her lips seemed more sinister. She was moving a hibiscus tree over when she decided that she wanted to go home. One of her other workers, Mac, was already there and she didn’t need to cover any shifts so she went home to her Catherine. When she entered the pink room, she watched your sleeping form from a chair near the bed, she wanted to leave you alone, she wanted to let you sleep but she couldn’t help it, you looked so damn beautiful, she just had to. She walked over to the bed, gently kissing your lips before she was inspired to lift your shirt and kiss your exposed stomach.
You woke up slowly, feeling something gently touch your stomach, you tried to ignore it and go back to sleep but when you moved to turn over, two hands squeezed your waist tightly. Your eyes shot open, sitting up as soon as you realized what was happening to you. “Heather!” you yelled in surprise, trying to scoot away from her, but she held you tight and you didn’t have enough energy at this point to fight back.
“Catherine,” she said your name with a smile before she kissed your exposed stomach lightly. You held back a scream and writhed around with disgust.
“Please I don’t want to,” you whimpered softly, trying to push her hands off of your waist.
“You don’t want to?” Heather scoffed, with a glare “Fine, I guess you don’t love me very much!” She snapped at you as she slid off of the bed, moving towards the dresser. You felt a sigh of relief escape your lips, happy that Heather’s hands were no longer touching you.
Heather pulled a small paring knife out of one of the drawers, walking back over to you as she watched your body tense. You made a move to roll over to the other side of the bed, but Heather grabbed you by your broken ankle, pulling you back to her. “You don’t love me?” she questioned as you let out a cry of pain.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You screamed as Heather moved to straddle you on the bed, trapping you as she held a knife close to your face. “No, no, please, I’m sorry,” The tiny knife was slashed against your bottom lip, your mouth filled with the taste of blood.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Emma, but sometimes you’re just so stupid!” Heather hissed, spit hitting your face as she traced your chest with the small knife, cutting into your shirt to expose the top of your breast. Heather smiled wide as an idea came to her, she put the tiny kitchen knife into action, carefully carving into your skin.
You trashed underneath her as you cried, painful hot tears falling from your eyes. Every time you would move Heather would snap at you “You’re ruining it, Jane!”
“I’m not Jane, I’m not Emma-”
“Yes, you are!” the blade went in deeper as she finished carving the letter ‘L’. “Hold still!” she screamed before she squeezed your cheeks together in a painfully tight way with her free hand. “Isn’t this better than loving me? Jane?” she let go of your face quickly, continuing with her work. Once she was done, she dropped the tiny knife on the bed with a smile. “Now there’s no hiding what you are, Slut!” she said with a twisted smile as her eyes met your terrified ones, she brought saliva to the surface of her tongue and spat in your face. After she did that she grabbed the bloody knife, got off of you, and headed for the door, locking you away once again.
As soon as the door shut you broke down sobbing, you wanted to scream but the painful cut on your lip made you think twice. You moved a hand up to your chest, feeling around the word carved into your chest, shaking. You laughed softly through your sobs, ‘Slut’, it made sense now. The stupid panties, Heather thought you were a whore. She hated that about you, but apparently, she was in love with you. After you had your emotional breakdown you stayed on the bed, unmoving, staring up at the ceiling as you bled onto the bed with spit on your face.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#Spencer Reid cm#Spencer cm#cm spoilers#cm#video killed the radio star#femreader#xreader#x reader#mgg#matthew gray gubler#warnings
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ABO (A) Katsuki Bakugo x (O) Reader I’ll kill the Bastard!
Word count: 1531
Warnings: A little bullying. Someone might have tied up said bully.
Title: ABO (A) Katsuki Bakugo x (O) Reader I’ll kill the Bastard!
Summary: You had been sent a courting letter and accept only to be stood up.
(Gif not mine)
Bakugo:
💥-You had just walked into class and noticed something laying on your desk. All of the other Omega girls gathered around it whispering and giggling. Although Momo was an Alpha she still participated in the fun.
💥-When you got closer you noticed it was a letter that had your name handwritten on it. You quickly realized what it was and blushed. When an Omega wanted to court an Alpha they usually asked for them to scent something.
💥-It was a traditional way of starting the courting process but it was well used.
💥-When an Alpha wanted to court an Omega they would hand-make something as a gift for the Omega and if the Omega accepted then they would accept their request at courting.
💥-This Alpha went the more modern route and sent a handwritten letter asking to go on a date. They would also scent it to make sure the Omega knew who was being asked by.
💥-So when you walked up to your desk and batted away the curious girls you sat down and stared at the golden letter. Your name is written in black ink. Your heart dropped a little already telling by the handwriting and scent alone that a ruby eyed boy didn’t send it.
💥-You tentatively lift the paper to your nose and took a whiff. Oranges and smoke flooded your nose. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell but it definitely caused you to pause a bit.
💥-If you remembered correctly it belonged to an Alpha you bumped into at the library a while back. He had come down the aisle without looking and nearly knocked you over.
💥-Once he apologized he quickly went back to his laughing group of friends. You couldn’t say you remembered much about his appearance but he seemed nice enough to accept his request.
💥-It had nothing to do with you finally realizing a certain spiky blond had no interest in you and wanted to try and move on from outrageous dream of courting him.
💥-You might have given up too easily and didn’t even attempt to ask him to scent something of your but that was because you saw how he rejected other Omegas.
💥-Loudly and bluntly.
💥-No way were you gonna be embarrassed like that. You wouldn’t be able to face him again. Let alone share the same class with him. So when you lifted up the letter and broke the seal it was solidified that you accepted his request.
💥-Unknown to you lost in your own thoughts a certain blond Alpha was growling in his seat as soon as you touched the letter and smelled it. He didn’t recognize the scent but he sure as hell wanted to find the bastard and blow him to hell.
💥-As soon as he walked into the room and spotted the golden scrap paper his Alpha was scratching at him to tear it up and toss it out the window. No one but him would know since he was the first one in the room.
💥-He stopped himself though. If his Omega wanted to court someone else then he would have to grudgingly accept it.
💥-He shoved a beaded bracelet into his backpack with a menacing growl. A few heads turned but none of them questioning him. They all knew the Alpha had his eyes set on the newly courted Omega.
💥-Someone was gonna end up dead for sure.
***
💥-You had worn your best clothes but also tried to keep it casual. Nothing too eye-catching but if someone wanted to eye you they wouldn’t be disappointed. The letter said to wait outside a ramen shop.
💥-You had taken the liberty to arrive early so you made a good impression. Ten minutes had passed the set time the Alpha was supposed to arrive but you just figured he was running a bit late.
💥-After thirty minutes and no Alpha to be found you were left standing there with teary eyes and a wobbling lip. You were so excited to be asked out you didn’t even think it could have been some sort of harsh prank.
💥-You knew the lower classes were jealous they didn’t get into the top class but to be so envious the prank a hopeful Omega was cruel. You had half a mind to run to Mr. Aizawa and report their cruelty.
💥-You knew the Alpha might have acted a little indifferent when it came to his students but he wouldn’t hesitate to give harsh punishments to those who mistreat his students.
💥-Just as you were about to head back to your dorm room and spend the night eating sweets and crying in front of a TV you heard a harsh voice from in front of you.
💥-You had been looking down at your shoes to hide your heartbroken face so you didn’t notice someone come up to you. You recognized that brash voice anywhere though.
💥-“Oi! What are you doing out here when it is getting dark? Your stupid Alpha left already or what?” His gruff voice broke through your circle of sadness.
💥-Your watery eyes lifted up to meet his sharp ruby ones. As soon as he realized you were on the verge of crying he let out a small purr to ease you. A growl threatened to follow it but he pushed it down and focused on calming you down.
💥-“What’s wrong? Did he not offer you dessert or something?” He wasn’t really good with crying Omegas. He tried to lighten the mood with a small joke to see if he could get you to smile.
💥-Your tears cleared up but your lip was still wobbling a bit. “No. He didn’t even show up for me to even look through the dessert menu.” You sniffled.
💥-You could have sworn you heard popping coming from somewhere but you ignored it. You focused on Bakugo’s purring to keep you from tearing up again. He had stiffened at your explanation.
💥-“I’ll kill that bastard! Well, it sucks for that asshole. He really missed out on seeing you all nice and dressed up.” He tried to take on a soft tone but it might have come out harsher than he wanted. He didn’t say the wrong thing and set you off.
💥-Your sadness was instantly replaced with happiness. Bakugo had complimented you! It was practically unheard of! Your own little purrs vibrated from your chest.
💥-“Thank you Bakugo! That made me feel a little better.” You smiled at him.
💥-“Of course I made you feel better! It’s what good Alpha’s do!” He didn’t know how to handle your purring so he did what he was good at. Answering you back in an overconfident tone.
💥-“Ya, you are a pretty good Alpha. I wish this one was a better one like you.” You sighed.
💥-“No one is better than me!” He boasted.
💥-You laughed and nodded along with him. “Well, I guess this day is over. I better start getting back to the dorms.” You made to leave.
💥-“Wait! Are you hungry? I was coming down here to get some spicy ramen. You could join me if you wanted.” He was suddenly bashful not looking you completely in the eye.
💥-He might not have sent a letter or offered you a handmade gift but the request was clear.
💥-“Yes! I would love to.” You chirped happily.
💥-“Good. I’ll even get you dessert.” He opened the door for you.
💥-He sure knew how to treat an Omega right.
Bonus:
💥-You had walked into class the next day with an orange and black beaded bracelet on your wrist. Bakugo had given it to you when you got back to the dorms last night.
💥-You wore it with pride and even showed it off to all the other girls the next day. Bakugo was nearly preening the whole day. Of course, you loved the bracelet that he made.
Extra bonus:
💥-“Why the fuck are these beads so small! It’s fucking pointless! Who the fuck can do this shit!” Bakugo sat on his bed trying to get a black bead through the clear thread.
💥-He was tempted to give up and get one of the girls with small hands to do it but then it wouldn’t be a courting gift. A courting gift has to be only made by the Alpha and no one else.
💥-So he suffered most of the night trying to get the beads to string together. He was a persistent Alpha. And a protective one.
Extra extra bonus:
💥-Momo had helped to produce the handcuffs once she found out what had happened. As an Alpha herself she was disgusted at the one handcuffed to the fence.
💥-Her and Bakugo stood on the roof eyeing the restrained and pants-less Alpha. He wanted to do more but knew if he took it too far he would be expelled.
💥-Mr. Aizawa was walking outside of the building when he noticed someone tied to the roof fencing. He calmly kept walking and would wait a bit to report it. You had come to him last night about what happened and he could only guess who was dangling from the fence.
#bnha bakugou#bakugou x reader#Katsuki Bakugō#katsuki bakugo x reader#my hero academia#bnha imagines#BNHA Headcanons#bnha x reader#ground zero#Omega#omegaverse#Alpha#abo#x reader#bnha fluff#fluff#angst#overprotective#mates#angry bio#mha aizawa#momo yaoyozoru
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Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.
note from denise: To be added to the taglist please send an ask. Comments and dms will be unintentionally ignored/forgotten. Also if you have sent an ask to be on the taglist. I am not ignoring you I add people onto the taglist when I update a new chapter! <3 love youuu
Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload
Previously Up Next Masterlist
Chapter six
Suna was completely in shock and he was overwhelmed. He just froze. What can a man do when his ex tells him he is a father, let alone the father of two toddlers.
He immediately thought about the trauma you must have faced, being pregnant and alone. He also thought about how much he’s missed already, he wasn’t there for their day of birth, their first steps, first words, he’s already missed so many birthdays.
All he ever wanted was to be a father, especially to be the father of the children he made with the woman he was in love with. Was it truly a blessing or a curse?
Surely you don’t want to get back together and live like a perfect family behind a white picket fence. He’d have to learn how to push his feelings aside for these kids and share custody of them somehow. Before he could even speak you were walking away and he quickly turned.
Why aren’t his legs moving? What’s pulling him back? Is he afraid of this responsibility and commitment? Of course he is. He doesn’t want to be a shitty dad, will he be able to raise them correctly? How if he’s always busy training and practicing. All his free time is dedicated to napping.
His heart truly broke the second time ever when he saw those grayish eyes looking back at him with such hurt and betrayal. They screamed that they needed him. He didn’t know how but he felt it. He decided that he was going to take a step and work things out with you. Maybe not romantically but he really wants to be in his kids life.
“After all this time and trouble I went through. You’re gonna let her walk away again?” Atsumu’s annoying voice filled the silent hallway. “Fucking bastard.” Suna seethed and turned with a glare. Osamu knew his brother fucked up and decided to be cautious in case Suna decided to land a few punches on his brother like the last time Atsumu has pissed off Suna.
But as Atsumu braced himself for a comeback or for a fist to meet his face he was met with Suna’s back as he ran to catch up with you. When Suna turned the corner he saw the staff parking lot and he began to run even faster.
If you leave it’ll be too late.
When he made it in the parking lot he stopped and used his height to his advantage and he looked around. He couldn’t see you anywhere. “Y/N!” He called outloud and his voice echoed. “Y/N!” He repeated. He was about to continue walking through when a car backed up and quickly breaked so that they wouldn’t run over the man. You looked through your mirror and saw Suna standing there and looking around like an idiot.
Your heart clenched yet you felt butterflies at the same time. He came, not for you but for the kids. You really hoped and prayed that he would come, and he did. You parked your car and you got out. He sighed in relief and neared you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I want to be in their lives I really do.” He exclaimed.
“It’s fine, Rin. I’m glad you want that.” You smiled softly.
For a moment he got lost in your eyes, and yours in his. It probably lasted less than a minute yet it felt like a eternity. Neither of you could turn away or say something else. It was comfortable and warm.
All of a sudden your phone rang and your finally blinked and turned away to answer your phone. “Did suna find you?” Jamie immediately asked. “Uh we were talking just now....” you said awkwardly and he stood awkwardly as well. “Ok good if not I was going to give him your number.” She sighed in relief and you rolled your eyes. “Alright I got to go, the kids have school in the morning.” You said and you both hung up.
“So I would love to stay and chat..ya know about the kids but they’re asleep already and they have school.” You mumbled. “No it’s fine I completely get it. School is important...are you available tomorrow? It’s off season for me so I don’t have any rough practices, only gym. I want to talk with you before meeting the kids.” He said and you nodded. “I’ll text you when to come over when I get home.” You told him and he nodded. You both exchanged numbers but Suna didn’t really seem that satisfied.
“Be safe. Text me when you guys get home safe.” He said and his eyes widened. “Okay, I will.” You smiled softly and he saw as you entered your car. You slowly pulled out and you drove away.
“Tsumu has her social media in case you’re curious.” Osamu spoke up causing Suna to jump. “What the hell dude, don’t just scare me like that.” He placed his hand over his chest and Osamu laughed.
“Come on, let’s go.” Osamu said and Suna nodded and walked away.
“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” You muttered and slapped yourself as you drove. Your kids were already asleep so they couldn’t hear you having a mental breakdown on your way home. “Mommy you said a bad word.” Akira pointed out and you glanced at the mirror. “Sorry about that. Don’t repeat it okay?” You asked and she nodded. “I know I know.” She mumbled and look at her signed volleyball with a bored expression. “Is daddy going to be in our lives, now?” She asked and you sighed softly.
“Well we talked and it sounds like he wants to be there for you and nii-chan..he’s going to come over tomorrow while you’re at school so we can talk like adults. Then when you come home he’ll be there to hang out with you guys and you guys can get to know eachother.” You said hopefully.“I don’t like him. Why couldn’t Sakusa or Atsumu be our dad. Even that guy you were with earlier with the suit is fine. But dad is a jerk. He made you cry.” Rini huffed and your eyes widened, were they awake the whole time?
“Hey, I know you don’t know him but your shouldn’t disrespect your father like that. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have had you guys. You two are the best things that has ever happened to me. You’re a Suna, once you get to know your dad I know you’ll be proud that I put your last name as Suna not Kageyama.” You told him and he scowled.
“Can you tell us more about dad?” Akira asked and you nodded. “What do you wanna know?” You asked. “Why did you fall in love with him.” Rini immediately asked, “Well he was sweet and funny, he loved anime and we were in the same class. He also taught me how to love volleyball again after my grandpa died.” You said smoothly. “What position did he play? Did he go pro?” They asked. “He was a middle blocker and he was really good. He still is a middle blocker and yes he is pro.” You said and Rini gasped. He’s more of a middle blocker type of fan. And Akira prefers setters. Even when you or Tobio teach them volleyball. They choose those positions.
The whole drive they asked about him and you answered the best you could, you can’t tell them everything but they were satisfied and they had a better understanding. They did get upset with you for not telling Rin that he was a father since the beginning but they understood that he broke your heart and you didn’t really want to see him.
When you got home you texted Rin that you arrived. You quickly bathed your kids. Dressed them in their pajamas and read them a script from the new anime you’re going to be on. (They liked listening to the scripts rather than bedtime stories)
After reading three pages they were already knocked out and you gave them a kiss. You fixed Akira’s fox plush in her arms and made you way to Rini’s bed. He was hugging a green piggy with a crown from the angry birds game and the moon made his face glow. You stood there in shock and you imagined second year Rin sleeping like that with the pig plush with the crown that reminded him of you.
You quickly rubbed your eyes to see second year rin turn back into five year old Rini. “I need some wine.” You muttered and kissed his cheek and fixed his blanket. You took out the phone from your pocket as you made your way to the bathroom to take off your makeup and start your nightly routine.
You chuckled but quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. Why was it so easy to text Rin again after all this time. Isn’t it supposed to be awkward? Why are you so comfortable?
You quickly typed an awkward goodbye and he scratched his head confused but replied goodbye as well. He really wanted to continue talking to you more.
After you changed into your pajamas and finished your nighttime routine you made your way to the kitchen and you grabbed the half full wine bottle.
You held it to your chest as you made your way to your office/studio and began reading the script and answering some emails involving the character you’ll be portraying for the new anime. You celebrated a few weeks back when you got the offer and sighed thinking about this certain character.
You’ve read the manga already but it wouldn’t hurt to re read it to get a better feel of the characater right? You took a sip from the wine bottle as you found the first book of the manga. In your endless shelves of books.
“Alright Emma let’s go on an adventure.” You sighed and began to read The Promised Neverland.
Also don’t forget that I love you and you’re worth it <3 Idk who needed to hear this today :)
🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar
#haikyuu suna#suna rintarou fluff#suna rintarō#miya atsumu#suna x reader#haikyuu x you#miya osamu#suna imagines#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu!! x reader#suna smau#suna au
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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)
Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.
OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3
ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.
Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure
______________________________________________
~Cassian~
“You’re getting married.”
The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.
My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.
He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.
Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.
We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.
Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.
Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.
Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.
And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.
But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.
I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.
Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.
That leaves... a widow?
The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.
So he must be joking.
I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”
“Volchonok.”
The Wolf Cub.
The cigar snaps in my fingers.
“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.
Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”
“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.
In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.
We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?
“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”
“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.
So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.
Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”
I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.
“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”
His lips twitch. “Ten million.”
“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.
Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.
Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.
“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.
“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.
“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”
He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.
So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”
It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.
Now I do.
Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.
“When’s all this happening, anyway?”
He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”
A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.
Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.
Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.
~Nesta~
“Chto sluchilos?”
I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.
“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.
I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.
Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.
I still haven’t.
I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.
God, what an Italian name.
An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.
I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.
But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.
My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.
Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.
I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.
As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.
What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.
Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.
“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.
“Konechno.” Of course.
Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.
As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.
It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.
So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.
Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.
But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.
In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.
My father is an arms-dealer.
A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.
He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.
He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.
It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.
I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.
But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.
The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.
Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.
Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.
I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.
I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.
“Starik,” I tease. Old man.
He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.
The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.
It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.
My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.
We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.
My new home.
“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.
“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.
His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.
It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.
I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.
A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.
The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.
Ridiculous.
One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.
But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.
The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.
One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.
The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.
That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.
My fiancé.
Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.
Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.
For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.
If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.
His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.
His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.
His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.
Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.
He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.
He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.
Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.
His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.
So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.
I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.
Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.
~Cassian~
I think I’m in love.
Fuck.
She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.
Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.
Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.
I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.
But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.
And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.
She also didn’t say hello.
Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.
I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.
Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.
Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.
He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.
As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.
He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.
“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.
I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.
_____________________________________________________
NEXT CHAPTER
Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
#nessian#nessian fanfiction#acosf countdown#acosf#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acosf fanfiction#a court of mist and fury
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Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 3)
Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader
Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam’s who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he’s not the only one looking for a fresh start.
Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence
Part 3 Word Count: 3k
A/N: Can you tell I don't really have a posting schedule? lol. I also introduced links to the specific pieces I had in mind. I'm using soundcloud because I don't think everyone has access to spotify. Trying to be reader friendly! This can be read with or without the audio, as I do my best to still convey the thought in the fic. Though if you can, I highly recommend :)
Thanks again for all your support! Every heart and comment motivates me and is just so wonderful
Read Part 1; Masterlist
---
A few days had passed since the night that Bucky had overheard your troubles. It had been quiet since, and you hadn’t left the house. The curtains were opened during the day and closed at night, the only telltale signs that you existed.
Doesn’t she have to work? Bucky thought to himself. He speculated all the different possibilities as he used the riding mower around the property. Maybe you were an heiress? You seemed pretty down to earth though. Or maybe you sold a patented idea for a ton of money. All this land had to have been expensive. And to not request actual money from him?
He eyed up the width of the gate for your fence. The riding mower couldn’t fit so he would have to use a push mower for your fenced off yard. He hadn’t seen one in the garage. Maybe the old shed at the back of your yard had one? Bucky parked the mower in the garage, taking a moment to make a mental list of everything. Depending on if he found anything in the shed, he might need to buy a few basic tools and a chainsaw for that fallen tree.
He walked out of the garage and over to the shed. The leaves were changing color and it brought a whole new atmosphere to the secluded forest area. Opening the gate of the weathered white fence, he looked around to see if you were out. No signs of life. Entering the yard and closing the gate behind him, he started walking to the back. Halfway through, he stopped at the fire pit. The grey stone blocks were starting to crumble, with a few of the bricks having fallen off. It would probably be really nice if he got a little bit of cement mix and filled in the gaps. Bucky made another mental note.
The shed had no padlock so he was able to open it with no problem. Amongst the cobwebs and bags of soil, was an older green push mower that looked like it might work. He gave the gas a pull and got no response back. Looking underneath, Bucky saw what might be the problem. He’d have to take a closer look later. Putting the lawn mower back onto its wheels, he pushed it across the yard, pausing when he saw movement though the glass doors of the back patio.
Craning his neck to avoid the glare, he saw you sitting at your fancy full keyboard. The way the piano was against the opposite wall, your back was to him. You had big over-ear headphones plugged into it, so he couldn’t hear the sound but he saw the flurry of keys being pressed down. Whatever you were playing, you played passionately. Hands and arms gracefully moved despite the speed at which they were moving. Enhanced hearing coming into play, he heard the muffled clicks of the fluttering keys. Suddenly, you pressed down forcefully, holding whatever chord you had struck as your shoulders gently relaxed. A deep breath. Arm creating a graceful arc as if you had studied ballet, you pressed gently on another chord. And another. Bucky counted three more times you did this before you let your hands gently fall from the keys to your lap. Several moments passed before slid the headphones off of your ears to sit wrapped around your neck. Another deep breath. This time as the breath escaped you, you stayed slouched, head tilting up to stare at nothing on the wall.
A buzz broke Bucky from his trance.
“Call me, new mission” The text from Sam on his home screen said.
He pocketed his phone, glancing through the glass one more time. There you still sat.
Unmoving.
---
The roar of the plane’s engine was just loud enough to drown out Bucky’s thoughts without being annoying. If it weren’t for the adrenaline of the recovery mission under the cover of nightfall, he probably would’ve been lulled to sleep. Beside him sat Sam, looking on his phone for the exact coordinates of the politician they had been sent to rescue.
“Here it is. I’m assuming there’s some sort of underground base since there are no heat signatures anywhere within the radius where he was taken. It should take us about ten more minutes before we’re directly over it.”
Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Earth to Bucky.”
“What does your friend do?” Bucky asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and turning towards him.
“… What?”
“What does she do? I’ve never seen her leave the house. Is she okay?”
“If you’re asking why she doesn’t leave the house, it’s because her contract doesn’t start for a while. She’s technically still supposed to be in physical therapy but she hasn’t found a place yet. You know, your whole routine gets messed up when you move.”
“For her shoulder?”
Now it was Sam’s turn to look at Bucky, trying to decipher the motive behind these questions. Bucky shifted his weight in the chair, antsy under the scrutiny.
“Never mind, I-”
“Yes, for her shoulder.” Sam said, cutting him off. He stopped himself from asking why Bucky wanted to know. There was an awkward pause before Bucky explained himself.
“I just wanted to know. I’m not used to seeing people so…”
“Similar to yourself?”
“I was gonna say isolated but fair point.” Bucky admitted. Sam leaned back in his chair, looking straight forward.
“She’s been through a lot… I know you heard some of it.”
Bucky blinked in surprise.
“I realized the window was open when I could hear you drive off.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright, it’s good that you know.” Sam said as he held up his hand to cut Bucky off.
“She’s just trying to get a fresh start. She’s in a raw emotional space and in the meantime is a little skittish. Just like someone else I know.” Sam jabbed his elbow into Bucky’s side as he enunciated the last sentence.
“Okay, okay, I get it. I’m trying!” He shouted as he held one hand up defensively and using the other to block the second jab Sam was trying to get in. Sam chuckled and then stood up, grabbing a parachute pack and tossing it at Bucky, who caught it without even looking.
“Figured you might wanna try an actual chute this time.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and mouthed Sam’s words mockingly with a grimace as he put the backpack on. Clipping it into place, he joined Sam at the side door of the plane.
“She used to play in an orchestra you know.” Sam said wistfully. “The piano. That’s actually how we met. She had volunteered to play a small concert before the dinner. It really helped raise a lot of money for the VA.”
Bucky stayed silent, prompting him to continue.
“Then that bastard she was engaged to beat her and then shoved her down a set of concrete steps when she tried to leave him. It was like a month after we all came back. She was in the hospital for a while. Broken ribs, broken shoulder, and a nasty concussion to boot. Neighbor saw the whole thing and called the cops but the courts were so backed up and the case fell through the cracks. Wouldn’t leave her alone after he got out. So, I pulled some strings and helped her move down here on the fly.”
“… That’s terrible.”
Bucky didn’t know what to say or how to react. They stood in silence, taking a moment to pay a respect of sorts to the trials you have been through. Then Sam broke the silence.
“She just needs time to heal in more ways than one. But she’s strong. Resilient.”
Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, he squeezed it lightly with reassurance.
“Reminds me of someone else I know.” Sam said, finishing the conversation and pulling his goggles over his eyes, giving Bucky the opportunity to take the compliment without feeling too on the spot.
Pulling the door open, Sam shouted over the wind.
“Ready?”
Bucky nodded. Sam jumped from the plane and deployed the wings, the shield shining in the moonlight. Bucky jumped right behind him, using the glint of the silver star to guide his descent as he followed the man that gave the shield its meaning.
---
You laid with your head down on the kitchen table, letting the last golden rays of sun warm the side of your face. You were exhausted from going to physical therapy, especially since today had been the first appointment. All the measurements, all the exercises, all the stretching.
All the questions.
“So, how did you break your shoulder?” the young blonde physical therapist asked.
“Ah, I… fell down some stairs.” You said, looking down at your hands in your lap.
She didn’t look up from the papers, instead just raising an eyebrow.
“You also cracked some ribs and had a concussion?”
“… They were concrete.”
She looked up from the papers at you, analyzing. Her gaze softened and she asked no further questions on how these serious injuries had been obtained.
“Let’s look at your range of motion.”
You had practically stumbled into the house, kicking off your sneakers and plopping down at the kitchen table. Minutes passed by as you regained your breath, heartbeat steadying. The house was slightly cold since you had turned the heat down this morning. As your sweat cooled, you wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep you warm without getting up.
The sun feels so warm… You thought to yourself drowsily, feeling slightly less lonely. The sun was a cheap substitute for the warmth of a partner…
---
You jolted upright, the kitchen dark and cold. Neck and shoulder stiff from the awkward position you had dozed off in. Feeling the dryness of your mouth, you got up, stretching your neck gently while you walked to the fridge to get water. Chugging about half the bottle, you squinted at the clock. You had been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Groaning, you put the bottle down on the counter and walked into the living room to close the curtains. Grabbing one in each hand, you went to pull them together when you hesitated, noticing that Bucky’s apartment was dark for the third day in a row. The sleek motorbike that was usually parked under the slight overhang of the garage was missing as well.
He was probably on a mission, right? Not that it was any of your business. You shut the curtains and turned off the lights before lightly padded down the hall, stopping to adjust the thermostat. The heat kicked on, sending a puff of cold air your way. You shivered as you walked with a quickened pace to your room, shutting the door and heading into the master bathroom, turning the hot water on with just a tad of cold.
Waiting for the shower to warm up, you leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. Dark circles under your eyes. Small scar on the bridge of your nose. Running your hand through the roots of your hair, you felt for the scar where the stitches had been. When was the last time you had a haircut? Or put on some makeup?
Some higher being must’ve felt pity for you since the steam from the shower fogged the glass, preventing you from tearing yourself apart any further. Stepping underneath the warm stream, you let the warmth seep into your muscles, then bones, filling every fracture and break with a temporary sense of wholeness until the emptiness of your heart and home caused it slowly to drip out until it, along with you, was gone.
---
The next morning, you weren’t motivated to do anything. You lounged around the house, sipping on coffee and browsing on your phone for furniture, clothes, even sneaking a peak at some pianos. Wanting to invest in one you’d use for the next several decades, you had put off buying one until the money from your contract with the orchestra started in a month. You were still well off, nowhere near struggling and probably wouldn’t ever be unless you decided to buy a mansion (which was a no). You just wanted to be careful.
In the afternoon, you popped a pain killer and muscle relaxer in preparation for the few hours you wanted to practice. Thirty minutes went by and the ever-present ache in your shoulder calmed enough to let you practice with relative peace. Sitting on the bench in front of the keyboard, you pondered what you might play to warm up.
Hmm, maybe a Chopin prelude? Short, emotional, familiar.
Your left hand held the soft deep chords as your right hand softly flitted around the higher notes. Breathing in and out with the music, you tried to ignore the ache that start to surround your shoulder.
Playing the last few notes, you paused before reaching over to the bottle of painkillers.
---
Shortly after finishing up, you dragged a small table outside next to the wooden bench swing that was hanging on the porch. Bundled up in a soft sweatshirt, long-sleeve shirt, wool lined leggings, fuzzy socks and slippers, you brought out your hot tea, several blankets, a pillow, and a book you had been meaning to read for months. You were determined to do something besides practice, watch TV, and scroll on your phone.
You settled onto the bench, wrapping the blanket around you, nice and toasty from the layers trapping in the heat of a thorough practice session. The extra medication had really helped keep the pain at bay. Tentatively sipping the steaming cup, you closed your eyes to further appreciate the sweet tones of peach and honey. Setting the cup in your lap with one hand, you used your other hand to flip open to the first page.
---
Bucky hadn’t expected the mission to get so complicated. Finding the base was one thing, navigating in and out of the expansive maze was another. It took a few days to successfully get the target out and back to the embassy. He hadn’t properly slept during that time due to taking shifts with Sam. Not that it was any different from how he slept at home.
The sun was letting its last few rays bless the earth when he turned onto the driveway. Taking it easy on the gravel, he eased his posture and slowed the bike. He put pressure on the brakes as he made it past the final wall of trees that hid the water that was reflecting the last bit of color left in the sky. Rolling casually into a stop, he parked and let out a deep breath, shoulders sinking.
A stray bird calling out turned his attention in the direction of your house. The porch light was on. That’s new, he thought. Squinting his eyes, he saw a bundle on the porch swing. Was that you? Quietly walking over while taking his leather gloves off, he confirmed his suspicions. There you were, lying on your side propped up by a large fuzzy pillow. Eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. Scanning the scene, he noticed the mug on the side table, empty except for the used teabag. Your book was closed, the page you were on marked by one of your fingers. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading.
“Hey…” Bucky said gently. No response besides a small nose scrunch.
He repeated himself a little louder, squatting to be at eye level while gently setting his hand on your arm and shaking you lightly. You groaned this time, eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to focus. You squinted and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, losing your place in the book and attempting to blink the heavy drowsiness from your eyes.
“Bucky?” You questioned hoarsely as you met his eyes. He was still crouching so you were looking slightly down at him. Brow furrowed, you searched the blue of his eyes before looking around to see how dark it had gotten. As you turned your head back to him, he stood back up, scratching the back of his neck just to occupy his hands.
“It’s starting to get cold. I didn’t want you to spend the rest of the night out here.” He explained, choosing to look out at the water, now dark. When he turned his head back, you had also turned your head to look at the water, exposing the side of your neck, the tendons and clavicle accentuated by the strain. Bucky swallowed and your eyes met his, oblivious.
“Ah, thank you. I must’ve fallen asleep reading. I just started going back to physical therapy so I’ve just been so wiped… Anyway,” you said, dismissing yourself mid-thought. He didn’t want to hear about all that. “…did you just come back from a mission?” You eyed the diagonal cuts of leather on his jacket, noting the missing sleeve that exposed the glint of the metal.
“Yeah. I was gone for a few days.”
“Okay. I’m glad you’re home safe.” You mindlessly said, picking up the book and other various items strewn about.
Home safe. What an unfamiliar phrase.
As the words echoed in his mind, you had opened the door and stepped in, turning your head slightly to look back at him.
“Thanks again… Good night.”
“Good night.” Bucky replied, watching as you shut the door softly behind you.
Slowly walking down the porch steps, he crossed the driveway to the garage. Turning his head just in time to see the last light turn off in your house, he stood with his hand on the knob, meditating on the effect that one short sentence had on him.
Glad you’re home safe. Was this what it was like when you had someone waiting on you at home? The tired eyes and gentle smile. Would that be what it was like when he came home in the middle of a night from a mission when he had someone to share a bed with? Gently shaking them to let them know he was home? Or would he try to sneak into bed without waking them? He tried to imagine what that sort of intimacy would be like as he entered his apartment and then his room. Unzipping his jacket and tossing it over a chair, he stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into bed, wondering what it would be like if it was already warm.
#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky imagine#SoundCloud
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Feral Pt.5
Daryl Dixon x OC
Summary: Daryl is on a run with Rick when, in a warehouse, they find a woman who attacks them, and who reminds Daryl to a lioness…or a feral cat, and who doesn’t seem to trust anyone, including them, but Daryl finds himself going back to the warehouse, trying to get that feral to go with him to the prison, and to earn her trust.
Chapter 5/10 Words: 3076
You can find my other fics in my masterlist.
Last chapter…Dana and Daryl went on a run to pick up an old bike, Dana fought some walkers, ended up drenched in their blood, and almost gave Daryl a heart attack...
They reached the prison when the sun was starting to go down. After Daryl parked the pickup with the other vehicles, Dana helped him to drag the old bike out of the pickup, leaving it in a sheltered place near his own bike. He’d start cleaning it and working on it as soon as he had a moment the next day.
On their way to their cellblock, some people looked at Dana covered in blood, asking if she was okay, to which she nodded awkwardly. Carol stopped them too, and Daryl explained briefly that they had found walkers near the cabin but they had put them down with no problem and they were okay, despite the blood on Dana.
“I know you, wouldn’t be surprised if you saw a herd and decided that you could take it down yourself, why not,” Carol scolded him. “And she’s just like you, isn’t she.” Dana didn’t say anything, just shrugged. “Put those clothes to soak before there’s no way of taking out the blood, half of our clothes supply is bloodstained already.” Dana nodded awkwardly. “I’ll save you both some dinner for when you’re ready.”
They kept going to their cells, and Daryl looked at Dana as she walked into hers, locking the door and already tugging off her shirt and so Daryl looked away. “Hey, um…” He began awkwardly. “You got soaked in blood and guts, why don’t you go to the showers?” He still didn’t know why she didn’t want to, everyone in there seemed to love it when they got the shower system going, but he didn’t want to push her.
“No.”
“Alright…” Daryl was about to go to his cell when suddenly something came to his mind, and he wondered if that might be Dana’s reluctance to shower. “Hey…if you go to the showers, it’ll be safe. You know nobody here will hurt you, right? And no walker can get in, we got fences, and walls, and lookouts.” Maybe Dana was subconsciously anxious at the idea of getting naked without weapons under a stream of water and without a lock, maybe she felt vulnerable. He could understand that.
“No…”
“I, uh…can take watch on the door while you shower, if you wanna,” Daryl offered, shrugging awkwardly.
There was only silence for a moment, but then, Dana spoke. “Okay.”
“Alright…alright, grab some clothes I’m gonna, uh…bring you a towel and all that.” Daryl rushed to the laundry room and came back with not only a towel but more stuff that Beth, who was working there at that moment, had given him.
“So…” He looked at Dana, who was already holding a change of clean clothes, waiting for him. “Here’s the towel, and also soap that someone made, Beth said this one is for you, and also this…” Daryl frowned at a bottle in his hand. “This is Beth’s, said is some oil for the hair, that it helps to untangle it or something.” He gave everything to Dana. “She gave me a comb too.” Dana looked at the comb, scoffing, and she didn’t even take it.
Daryl led her to the showers, closing the doors behind them, and then he waved to their shower system. “So…that is, you pump it and some water falls, and…yeah, that is.” He felt a bit like an idiot explaining it when she could just see it. “I’ll wait outside.”
“No,” Dana said, leaving all her stuff on a bench that they had there for that.
“I’ll be just outside the door, and you really are safe, nobody will barge in, or hurt you, walkers can’t get in, you know it,” Daryl told her softly, but Dana looked at the door, then at the shower and at him, and Daryl didn’t want her to feel anxious, he understood it if she felt subconsciously vulnerable, and if she knew that the danger was not real but she couldn’t help her anxiety anyway, she was probably beating herself about it enough already. Daryl understood. He didn’t want her to feel bad, or weak, or vulnerable. “Okay, I’ll stay.” He took his knife out of his sheath too, to show Dana that he meant it when he said he’d take watch, even if there was no need.
“Thanks…” Dana murmured, and she looked like she knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but Daryl nodded reassuringly at her, and she gave him that tiny smile. Then she began to strip down, so Daryl quickly turned away, facing the door, flustered. “Shy,” Dana said, and she sounded amused.
“Ain’t shy,” Daryl grumbled, flustered. “But I ain’t taking my clothes off anywhere and in front of anyone.”
Dana chuckled. “Worse things in the world than being naked.”
Daryl guessed so, but still, he couldn’t help how his cheeks burned. He heard Dana pumping the water and it splashing, but after a while, he heard Dana cursing. “Somethin’ wrong?” Daryl asked, but Dana just cursed again, and Daryl ventured a quick look at her, finding her cursing as she tugged at her hair, before he looked away again, though he heard Dana walking to him.
“Knife,” she asked, nudging his arm.
“What for?”
“To stab you,” Dana scoffed. “For the hair.” So, it seemed she was done at trying to untangle it again, even if she had already chopped it short, Daryl knew that she hadn’t cared to untangle her hair for a while, who cared for that when your priority was survival, and so her locks had gotten tangled and tangled.
“Wait, uh…I’ll help you…” Daryl found himself offering, didn’t know why, he didn’t even know if he could help , he didn’t even brush his own hair. “Just…uh…get some clothes on…” he said, cheeks burning again. He heard Dana walking away, and then she went back and tugged at his shirt, so Daryl turned to look at her. She hadn’t gotten dressed, but she had wrapped the towel around her wet body, and she turned so her back was to him and he could help her with her hair.
“Ain’t you cold…” Daryl murmured awkwardly and she just shrugged.
Without clothes on and with her hair short, Daryl could see more of her old wounds and marks, but some scars stood out. Those seemed burning marks, going from the back of her neck until almost reaching between her shoulder blades, making geometrical patterns as if someone had wanted to brand her, and Daryl felt his blood burn. He brushed a finger over the scars softly, couldn’t help himself, and Dana stiffed.
“Did you kill them? The people who did this?” Daryl asked and Dana nodded. “Good.” Daryl stopped looking at the scars and focused on the task on hand, untangle Dana’s short hair…he wasn’t too confident in his ability, but he took the oil bottle that Beth had given him, pouring some on his fingers, and then he tried to run them through Dana’s curls to see if he could ease some of the knots…instead, he tugged at her locks, and Dana cursed and hissed, slapping his hand away and glaring at him. “Sorry, sorry, let me…I…”
Daryl looked at her hair, clueless, but tried again, taking a small lock of hair and softly trying to ease the knot, being as gentle and slow as he could, trying his best not to tug at her locks of hair, and this time Dana didn’t complain, so he kept going like that. It was a slow process, and he managed to untangle some knots, but he had to cut the worst ones with his knife, so her already short hair was shorter in some parts but with some curls of hair spiking out here and there too…Daryl still thought it suited her.
Eventually, he could more or less brush his fingers through her wet and oiled black locks with some ease, so he was about to tell her that it was done, but then he noticed that Dana had her eyes closed and a small smile on her face, as if she were enjoying it, and so Daryl swallowed hard, nervous, but kept going.
“Okay…” He said eventually. “All done.”
Dana turned around and smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said. She dropped the towel again and Daryl turned around to face the wall quickly. He heard her walking to the shower and the water splashing again for a little while. The next time that Dana tugged at his shirt, she was already dressed.
“Alright, let’s go,” Daryl said, but Dana didn’t move, pointing towards the shower.
“You?”
“Nah, I…I don’t…” Daryl stammered, flustered. “No need to… but uh…thanks…”
“Shy,” Dana smirked, following him back to their cells.
*
Daryl was on his cell, changing clothes before he went to grab some late dinner for him and Dana, knowing that if Carol saw him with his dirt-covered clothes, she’d get him to drop them at the laundry anyway, she didn’t understand why he was almost always wearing the same clothes, ripped and dirty or not, even now that they had a decent stash of clothes, but Daryl didn’t think it was a big deal.
He’d taken off his shirt and his back was to the door of the cell, but he noticed someone there anyway and he turned quickly. It was Dana, holding two bowls of stew, as if this time it was her who had decided to get them dinner, making progress at getting used to the prison little by little.
“Uh…” Daryl looked down awkwardly before reaching to take one of the bowls. “Thanks.”
Dana gave him the bowl but didn’t leave, and she kept looking at him, eyes trailing over the faint scars on his chest, making him feel even more awkward. Then she walked into the cell, and Daryl felt his heart hammering in his chest, shy and nervous, but he felt frozen too while Dana walked around him. She left the bowls of stew on the smell cell, and then Daryl felt her finger softly trailing one of the deep scars on his back and he shivered, swallowing hard.
Dana walked in front of him again, looking at him. “Who?”
Daryl chewed on his lip, looking down, but finally answered. “My father.” There it came again, that shame at not having been able to stop him. “Mean bastard.”
“You killed him?”
Daryl shook his head…he hadn’t been able and it only brought more shame. “But he’s dead.”
“Good,” Dana growled, nodding. She took her bowl of stew and walked away from the cell.
Daryl swallowed hard, trying to control himself, trying to even his breathing. Then, he thought it for a moment but finally he put on a shirt, took his bowl of stew, and walked to Dana’s cell. “Wanna eat together?” He asked bashfully from the door and Dana nodded.
They ate in silence, sat down next to each other on the bed, but soon it wasn’t awkward anymore and Daryl began to relax, and when Dana nudged his arm with the side of her head softly once, affectionately, he couldn’t help his small smile.
Once they finished the stew, Daryl took the bowls to the kitchen, washing them, before going back to the cellblock. On her way, Daryl stumbled into Rick, and he nodded at him, but frowned when he noticed Rick’s smirk.
“What?”
“First you get all guard dog at the outside of her cell, not you get into the shower with her?” Rick asked with a grin and Daryl barely could stop himself from slapping it off his face, and he groaned internally while he blushed red up to his ears, of course that someone had to see them walking into the showers or getting out together.
“Ain’t like that!” He snapped, defensive, which just made Rick chuckle, seeming more amused.
“I imagine…”
Daryl scoffed. “I’m gonna sleep.”
“On your cell or hers?” Rick asked with that shit-eating grin.
“Told you it ain’t like that!”
“Oh, I know but where’s the fun if I can’t mess with you?” Rick laughed and Daryl scoffed again. He began to walk away, but he stopped when something came to his mind.
“Yo, Rick.”
“Yeah?”
“You know when you…uh…” Daryl frowned, wondering how to word it. “When you’re all the time bothering me about not going to kill groups of walkers alone and all that.” Just like he’d told Dana and she hadn’t listened, scaring him when he saw her bloodied up fighting a group of dead assholes.
“Yeah, and you’re always annoyed saying that you can do it and telling me to leave you alone?” Rick nodded, still seeming amused.
“Just…uh…Thanks…for caring and all that…” Daryl shrugged, looking down shyly, feeling a bit like an idiot.
“Of course I care.” Rick squeezed his shoulder. “You’re my family.”
Daryl nodded, feeling emotional, and he wasn’t sure if he made a good job at not showing it. “You too…” He muttered before retreating. “Night.”
*
Weeks passed, and each day Daryl thought that Dana seemed more integrated within the community. She didn’t seem that on edge all the time, didn’t look like she might consider leaving and running away, and although she was often in her cell, she didn’t lock the door that often, only when she was asleep. She was not talkative at all, but she didn’t steer clear of people anymore, even if she was awkward around them, and she even gave them a couple of words here and there when it was necessary, and she was starting to open up a bit to Maggie and Beth, and Michonne whenever she was back.
She still spent most of her time with him, despite not being scared of the others now. They’d go hunting and patrolling in the mornings, and now when they went out, Daryl made sure that Dana got a silenced rifle with her. She still had a lot to learn, it wasn’t easy work, but she was getting better at tracking, and the first time that she had shot and killed a rabbit herself, Daryl had beamed with pride. For how much Daryl had liked his days of solitude at the woods, he had to admit that he enjoyed walking next to her, showing her stuff, teaching her, getting her to talk to him sometimes, while other times they’d walk in comfortable silence.
Once back, they’d get their kills ready together, and then Daryl would go to either do something else that someone needed or to tinker with the old bike. Dana sometimes went to tend to the horses, others helped Rick with anything he asked her, and other times she’d just go to her cell, but sometimes, when Daryl went to work on the bike, she’d go with him and either watch him work in silence or bring a book with her to read, and Daryl did enjoy her quiet company…but not as much as when he managed to get her to smile at something, making his belly do funny things, glad that she trusted him and opened to him, glad that she was feeling better, safe, hopefully happy.
Dana had recently started going on runs too when Maggie and Glenn needed people, either pairing up with Maggie or with him, and Daryl had already known that she was a good fighter, but seeing her in runs, putting down walkers by knife, just confirmed it more, even if he was still worried when there was a group around her. She seemed to turn back into a lioness when she fought them, ruthless and skillful, but once the danger was gone, she had that tiny smile for him that always got him smiling and feeling his belly tingling, as she was back to look like a shy, quiet cat instead of a feral one. He knew that Maggie and Glenn appreciated having her on runs now, and Daryl somehow felt proud.
They were on one now, in what had been a mall once, with a group. Maggie and Glenn had been planning it for more than a week, and everything had worked according to their plan. They had cleared the walkers, and although for one moment of panic it had seemed that one of their people had gotten trapped by a group, Daryl had shot at some while Maggie and Dana put down others by knife, and finally the cornered guy hadn’t been hurt.
They were now carrying all the stuff that they could find to their vehicles, and Daryl smiled when she noticed someone nudging his arm affectionately, knowing that it was Dana. “Hey, cat,” he said and she gave him that tiny smile. “You did well back there.” Dana’s smile grew, and Daryl couldn’t help his own.
He opened the truck of one of the cars, placing inside the box that he was carrying, and Dana did the same. Then, he looked at Dana again. The blood of one of the walkers had spattered on her face, and Daryl reached out a finger to smear one of the blood droplets, making Dana scrunch her nose and move her head away, and Daryl chuckled. “How do you always manage to end up like such a mess?” He told her and Dana scoffed, pushing him with her shoulder softly, but she smirked.
“Talent,” she said, shrugging, and Daryl snorted.
“Everything ready?” Maggie asked, and everyone nodded.
“Alright, very good job today, people,” Glenn said. “Well done, let’s go back home.”
Daryl and Dana went to the bike, but before getting on it, Daryl took a bottle of water from his bag and a rag from his back pocket. “Come here, messy cat, you’re gonna scare someone if the first thing they see is us on the bike with you all bloodied,” he said, pouring the water onto the rag and brushing it over Dana’s face.
“Should be used to,” Dana said, shrugging, and she closed her eyes, smiling softly when he began to gently clean her face.
“Alright…better.” Daryl nodded at Dana, getting the bottle and the rag into his bag and tying it to the bike with Dana’s. “Hop in,” he said as he swung his leg over the bike. Dana hold to his shoulders and got situated behind him, reaching back to hold onto the metal part in which Daryl carried the crossbow. “Ready?” He asked, kicking the bike into motion when Dana nodded and riding in front of the cars back to the prison.
*
I just love them.
Thanks to the people supporting this.
There WON’T be a chapter next Tuesday, probably, because I want to post something special, because it’s my birthday, and with it what I call “angst week.”
As always, excuse my English, is not my first language.
I’m going to reblog the taglist in another post to see if that way this shows up in the Daryl tags.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon x oc#daryl dixon & oc#daryl dixon/oc#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fic#twd daryl#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon twd#daryl twd#daryl/oc#darylxoc#daryl&oc
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Raise Hell - Creativitwins and Darkside!Roman Fic
Fic Summary: After a brooding session in his room after the events of SVS2, Roman decides Fuck It! and visits his brother Remus' room. As the two brothers reconnect, Roman ends up making a startling decision.
Warnings: Roman Angst, Self Loathing, Self Deprecating, Darkside!Roman, Gore, Violence, Weapons, Sexual Innuendos (Basically Remus just being Remus)
Pairings: None!
Wordcount: 7k+ (almost 8k)
Author's Note:
I started writing this fic immediately after SVS2 so it's canon complacent until after that, where it branches off into this AU! This was before both Flirting With Social Anxiety and Working Through Intrusive Thoughts came out, so please just consider this an alternate "What If?" scenario! (Also this just goes to show you how much I procrastinate when it comes to writing whoops lol.)
Roman sat curled up on his bed. Sitting in the same position that he had been for the past two days or so. He couldn't exactly recall how long he had been there holed up in his room, actually.
The only thing he could recall was the disappointed looks on their faces, their harsh words whether intentional or not, and the feeling of his whole world seemingly crumbling down around him. It was all too much too soon, and after his outburst he had sunken into a numb state of suspension. Waiting to feel anything other than anger, grief, and disappointment. All three of which were mainly pointed dangerously at his own self like a bunch of daggers repeatedly striking where they knew it would hurt most.
Patton had stopped by shortly after he had first sunk out, yes. But Roman could hardly hear what the fatherly side was saying to him over the ringing in his ears and his own rapid heartbeat constantly reminding him it had been recently struck through. Something about everything being okay, he thinks? Yet how could Patton have said that when absolutely nothing was okay right now? In fact, he doubted anything could be okay ever again. Not after…well, after he had apparently messed up again.
It was starting to become a habit now, all of these stupid mistakes. And how could such a perfect prince as him make such mistakes? He was supposed to be a paragon of perfection! An idol for all aspiring heroes alike! The pinnacle of heroism and all that is good in the world! Instead he was just...just wrong. Always wrong. Always wrong no matter who's side he took or who he believed in or what he said or didn't say. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
But if he wasn't a perfect prince...if he wasn't a hero...if he wasn't right...then what exactly was he? What was left? Well, nothing, really. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now the littlest breeze had apparently sent it toppling over.
Wait a minute...If he had nothing left, then that meant he had nothing left to lose, right? Which meant all of his old restrictions on himself, all of his walking the fine line and all of him staying on the right side of the fence- All of it was meaningless. It was doing nothing, just like him.
He slowly unfurled his body from it's curled up position and turned his gaze towards the closet on the far side of his room. The door was dingier compared to the rest of the elegant and ornately designed bedroom. Scratch marks marred its greyed, wooden surface and a sign was tapped loosely and half-hazardly to the middle. "Danger: Nightmare Zone. Keep out!" It read in bright red lettering.
"Keep out, huh...I must have been really mad when I wrote that." Roman glanced down to his hands, which he had clenched. "But now I'm just empty...so what's the use in obeying a stupid sign that I put up there myself?" He unfisted his hands and looked back to the imposing closet door. "What could be more dangerous in there than staying here and stewing in my own thoughts?"
He slowly stood up, his legs tingling from being in one position for far too long. He made his way over to the closet door. Slowly. Cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder as if someone was going to walk in on him at any moment. As his hand grasped the handle, he felt himself gulp. Did he really want to do this?
"…"
Well, what else was there to do?
He pushed the door open and stepped into the closet full of old clothes. All of his new princely adornments were actually being stored in a mahogany wardrobe beside his nightstand. These clothes were...they belonged to...Well, someone who didn't exist. At least not anymore. He pushed his way through dusty and moth-bitten clothes as if he was pushing through the undergrowth of a dense jungle. As he neared his destination, the place grew darker and smelled more and more of mold.
He finally arrived at another door. This one was more well kept than the last, with golden trimmings and an intricate door handle. He took a deep breath to steal his nerves before pushing it open.
He stepped out into another bedroom. This one had moss in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and ivy climbing it's walls. Even still, it was much tidier than he had been expecting. It gave off more of a wild feeling rather than a dirty one. Just as he was about to take another step to inspect further, there was a mace in his face.
He hadn't even flinched back, he was so tired and dazed. Roman sucked in a nervous breath and looked to the wielder of the weapon.
Remus was standing frozen in place, his face flickering between emotions. Eyes twitching. It appeared like he had intended to knock him out again...just like last time in the living room...but something must have made him pause.
"You've been crying." He hissed, less of a question and more of an accusation.
Roman blinked, confused, before reaching up to poke the skin underneath his eyes. Sure enough, it was puffy. He bet if he looked in a mirror they'd be red-rimmed as well. But he didn't even want to see his own face right now. He huffed out in irritation. "So what if I have?"
Remus' face flickered once more before settling into a firm stare as he slowly lowered his morning star mace away from Roman's head. He was being oddly still and slow in his motions, and the difference between this and his usual rambunctiousness was making Roman's skin crawl with nerves. "Why?"
"Why?" Roman repeated after him, bristling, "Why do you even care why?"
Remus blinked, seeming to come out of his previous mood. "You tell me Prince Smarmy! You came into my turf." He rested his mace behind his shoulders and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.
"I…" Roman's gaze fell to the ground. "I don't know. It's just the last place I could go, I guess?" He shrugged before waving a dramatic arm, "But if you don't want me here either, then just say it to my face!"
Remus tilted his head curiously before leaning forward "Oh, I can do way better than that, brohide." And with that, he snapped his fingers and the room flipped upside down.
Roman gasped as they fell through the air. The room seemed to twist and morph around them. Until finally, he had landed roughly on his own fluffy white floor rug. Remus, however, had fallen through the fancy canopy of his bed. Tearing a large hole through it and landing in a heap on the covers.
"Hey, my bed!" He shouted, offended beyond belief.
"Oh tough titty." Remus chastised as he picked up a golden laced, red silk pillow. He started plucking at it's loose threads. "I bet you have a ton of those ugly tent things."
"They're called canopies, you uncultured swine!"
Roman got up in a huff and dusted off and straightened his rumpled clothes. He sent a glare over to Remus as he did so. "Why'd you do that?"
"Do what?~" He sing-songed annoyingly back.
"Teleport us in such an unruly manner!"
"Hmmm…" He flopped over on to his back and started doing snow angel motions. "Why'd you go in my room?~Huh? Huh?"
"Wha- I- I asked you first!"
"I asked you second!!" He rolled over on the bed to grin up at Roman, still clutching the poor, abused pillow.
"Ugh, fine!" Roman threw his hands up in the air and moved to grab his vanity chair. He pulled it over to sit in front of the bed. "I just didn't want to be in my own room right now, okay??"
Remus frowned with pursed lips and sat up, scooching forward on the bed. "But it's your room, numbnuts."
"Well maybe I don't want to be near me right now…Um, wait. That doesn't make any sense, does it?"
"Probably not! But-" He cupped a hand over his mouth and loudly whispered conspiratorially, "I can rip your head off your body and throw it to the side for you so you're not close to it anymore?"
"No that's...That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"Fucking party pooper!" Remus threw his hands up then abandoned the pillow he had been holding to riffle curiously through the rest. "Do you not keep a dagger under your pillow??"
"What? No, of course not! Who would do that?"
"Me, duh! For security reasons, bitch boy."
"Well I'm obviously more sensible than that. I keep swords under the bed like a sane person."
"Wait, really?!" Remus threw himself over the side of the bed to look underneath it. "Holy shit, nice!" He rustled through them for a moment before grabbing a sleek black flamberge by it's blade and pulling it up. "I'm keeping this!"
"I would protest that but you've already gotten your filthy blood all over it and that sword is a particular bitch to clean."
"Sibling souvenir!" Proclaimed Remus as he stabbed it into his stomach for safe keeping.
"What on earth are you doing? Why would you stab yourself??"
"To make sure it doesn't go anywhere! Oh, and to test it's stabby powers."
"You know in hindsight, I shouldn't have even asked."
"Speaking of askings of questions-ing, why did you visit my room of all places? Needed to get rid of some trash? Because I'm taking if you're offering. I could always use more decorations!"
"Remus, you rat bastard, I saw that your room was cleaner than you let people believe it to be. If you did take any of my trash you'd probably organize it into the proper bins and everything."
Remus gasped and put an offended hand over his chest. "How dare you! My room is perfectly and gloriously trashy and stinky, just like me."
"Mhmm, sure it is."
A shuriken flew past the side of his head and embedded itself right in the face of one of his many Disney posters.
"Just answer my question!!"
"Okay, okay jeez!" Roman raised his hands placatingly before dropping them to grip at his knees nervously. "I, well, I didn't want to be alone anymore…"
"And? You couldn't just visit the other lamo light bitches in the living-dead room?"
"They, um." He sighed before looking over at his posters. Prince Charming smiled brightly back at him, even with a weapon digging into his forehead. "They don't want to be around me. They don't want me. Not anymore. If they ever did. They have him, after all. Both of them."
"Him. Them. Stop playing the pronoun game already and get fucking on with it!"
"He has Janus now! Thomas chose Janus! Patton chose Janus! They chose Janus! They both chose Janus...over me…" Roman blurted out. The words were spilling out now, unstoppable. He sniffled as he felt the tears threatening to fall once more as well. He didn't even realize he had any left to cry. "I chose Thomas. Thomas chose Patton. Patton chose Janus. No one ever chooses me! No one ever takes my side!"
"Apparently, I'm always the one in the wrong..." He ran his shaky hands over his cheeks, desperately trying to push any tears that appeared away. To keep them from falling anymore. Hadn't he cried enough? "I was wrong about Virgil. I was wrong with how I talked to Logan. I was wrong about the breakup. I was wrong about the wedding. Now I was wrong about Deceit- no, Janus- ugh...Everything I do is wrong!"
He lowered his hands again to dig his fingers back into his knees. Roman drew in another shaky breath, trying to calm himself after the outburst. He glanced nervously up at Remus to gauge his reaction to his brother's crazed rambles.
Remus had leaned forward to hear him better over his sobs and shaky voice, almost tipping over the edge of the bed. He had his nails digging into Roman's comforter, and Roman was afraid he was about to rip holes into it. He already had a canopy to replace after all, he didn't want to have to replace that as well! They stared at each other in tense silence for a few moments more, one at a loss on what to say next and the other trying to process the onslaught of new information. Finally, Remus let go of the comforter, slid off the bed, and sat on the floor in front of him with his legs splayed out.
"So what you're saying is...wait, Jan Jan the Banana Man actually told you his name?"
"Well, he more so told Thomas and Patton it and...I just happened to be there too?"
"Huh. Never thought he'd tell anyone else. Well, not after Virgil…was Virgil there?"
"No. Unfortunately Virgil wasn't there to back me up. If he would have even taken my side at all...And Logan was...there in textbox spirit?"
"What'd nerd-a-lerd say?"
"He…well, I wasn't really paying much attention to- I was panicking okay! But I heard enough." He looked to the side, feeling shame well up in himself again. "Enough to know that he was taking his side, just like everyone else."
He heard a mumbled "Damn pronoun name again-" before Remus clapped his hands together with a loud boom that echoed through the large room. "Okay! And I can't believe I'm saying this but- tell me the whole story. Top dick to bottom butt."
"Ew." Roman wrinkled his nose up in disgust.
"Just tell me already!!" Annnddd another shuriken whizzed past his head. This time it embedded itself in his dresser. He hoped it hadn't cracked the wood too much...
Thus Roman spun the entire tale, starting at Janus' first appearance and ending with the absolute fiasco between the callback and the wedding that had occurred a couple of days ago...or had it been several? Time had muddied itself in his reclusion. He would take several breaks in his storytelling to go off on self-deprecating tangents that sounded an awful lot like dramatic monologues from some tragic play. More often than not these tangents were cut short by Remus, who would hurry them along with crude nicknames and threats to get back to the main story.
Somehow during this storytelling process both of the brothers had ended up splayed out side by side on top of Roman's fluffy white floor rug. As if they were kids gossiping on the floor at a sleepover. Remus had busied his hands by pulling out locks of the fur from the rug while Roman's own hands gesticulated wildly with the ups and downs of his tale. As he neared the end of the story, Roman curled up to lay on his side so he could face Remus and see his reaction.
"...and then I decided to go to your room. Because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay in my room with my own thoughts any longer...but I didn't want to see any of the other sides, either."
Remus was laying on his stomach, fiddling with the rug and swaying his feet in the air. At hearing the last bit, his feet fell back down to rest on the floor. "...But you wanted to see me?" His voice was the softest Roman had ever heard him speak. It was incredulous and almost...hopeful.
"I-I don't know. I-" Roman diverted his eyes across the room, sweeping over the damage done by them earlier and eventually landing on the dingy and scratched up closet door. He stared at it for a moment in thought before looking back over to Remus. "Do you ever…Ever miss sharing a bedroom?" He murmured.
Remus wrinkled his nose and glared at him, likely upset that he had dodged the question. "Not really. Your taste in stuff is far too Gucci-Gucci-bougie for me."
"No, not that!" Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand, " Not the furniture or anything like that. Just the…the feel of someone else being there too? Knowing that someone else is always there? Someone who's kind of like you but not really? Someone you can talk to when you have no one else?" Roman ran his fingers through his hair in distress. "Does that make any sense???"
Remus was still glaring at him, but now his eyebrows twitched with an unseen emotion. "Being brothers?" He hissed.
"What?"
Remus reached over to grab Roman's shoulders and shake him silly. "What you're describing. Is being brothers. What I wanted to be. What you didn't let us be. What you rejected. Shoved into the darkest corner. Placed under a Do Not Enter sign-"
"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean it!"
Remus paused in his shaking, several emotions flashing across his face. "Didn't mean it?"
"I know I-" Roman placed his hands over Remus' on his shoulders but didn't push him away and lowered his head in shame. "I acted rashly and perhaps a tad extreme to our new circumstances at the time. But it was for what I thought was the best. I only ever wanted to serve Thomas. I only ever wanted to please them. I never thought- I-" He looked sincerely back up into his brother's eyes. "I never thought about what that would mean for you. What that would do to you. What that would do to us. And for that, I'm sorry."
Remus loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, staring intensely and attentively at Roman.
"I never actually wanted to push you away. I was just doing so because I thought- Well, okay admittedly I wasn't thinking much at all really but-" His eyes briefly flickered back to the closet door "I didn't want to become a dark side too! I didn't want to not be able to see Thomas. Or to be rejected by the others. I-" He laughed then. A dry, helpless laugh. He shifted to put his head in his hands. "But I guess that happened anyway, didn't it? What sick irony, huh? Maybe it's what I deserve… Maybe it's karmic retribution…"
"..."
"I shoved you away... And now they're shoving me away! I lost a brother so I could keep everyone and everything else in my life but now- now I've lost that, too- Now I have nothing. Now I am no-"
Remus tightened his grip on Roman's shoulders again and pulled him towards himself. He ended up knocking their heads together in the process-
"Ow! What the hell are you-"
-of wrapping his arms around Roman and hugging him to himself.
"You-You're hugging me?"
"You didn't lose a brother…" Remus pouted, as if he was a petulant toddler, "I've always been right fucking here if you'd open your stupid eyes for once."
Roman let out a shuddering breath, feeling an entirely new type of tear prickling at the corners of his eyes. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder and gripped onto the back of hid brother's clothes as if he was his last lifeline. He probably was.
Sure the hug was the most uncomfortable one he'd ever had, what with the hilt of the sword in Remus' stomach poking him in his own and his forehead still ringing with the pain from where Remus banged them together, but somehow it was still nice. It still felt like...home.
"...But I thought you hated me?"
"What gave you that idea?"
"You're always calling me names and hitting me with stuff!"
He felt Remus shrug. "You do the same thing."
"You do it first!"
"Eh- that's just what siblings do~~"
"With medieval weapons?!"
"Says the guy with a stash of swords under his bed!~" Remus sing-songed teasingly.
"Oh like you have room to talk- You said you keep daggers under your pillow!"
"Shouldn't everyone? You should keep some under yours too, Mr Whiny Prissy Pants!"
"And there's the name calling again."
"Hey now, you know it's the older siblings job to pick on the younger-"
"But I'm the older sibling! I manifested my form first!"
"Eh, semantics-schmantics! Same diff!"
"You're completely unreasonable!"
"And you're too stuck up!"
Roman let out a growl and smacked a hand over Remus' face, pushing him away and breaking up the hug. Remus let out a huff and reached over to slap the back of Roman's head in retaliation. This caused them to descend into a full on slap fight, looking like a slapstick scene straight out of a comedy movie.
They roughhoused like this, like a pair of bickering elementary schoolers, until they eventually tired themselves out and flipped gracelessly back onto the floor. They both stared at the ceiling for a few silent seconds before bursting out into fits of crazed laughter.
"That was the worst hug ever! Hahaha!"
"Hey! I don't have much practice! Heeheehee!"
"Haha! We must look like a couple of insane people lying here!"
"Haha! I knooowww~~ You're room is sooo trashed!~Heehee!"
"Hey! You're the one that trashed it! Hahaha!"
"Well you're the one who invited me here brozilla! Hahahoo!"
"You're the one that brought us here! Hahaheh! I wanted to be in your room! Heh!"
Their laughter eventually died down. But just as Roman was about to drift off into sleep from his position lying on the floor, he heard Remus ask, "Do you still want to go to my room?"
Roman blinked his eyes open. He sat up and looked forlornly around his own bedroom. The thought of staying here seemed lonely, now that he'd finally reunited and reconciled with his brother. And the pictures and posters adorning the walls just reminded him of past memories that only hurt to think about right now. "......Yeah. Yes, actually." He turned to Remus, who had also sat back up, " I know, I know it sounds crazy but-"
"I like crazy!" Remus grinned and raised his fingers in preparation to snap, causing Roman to have a flashback to the previous time he did it.
"Wait! Don't turn the room upside down again! We can just sink through the floor like we normally-"
"Sink through the floor? Okay, if you say so!" His grin widened maniacally and he snapped his fingers.
The floor started to shift and cave in on itself, causing Roman's furniture to all move closer to the center. A hole slowly opened under where the brothers had been sitting that pulled them down into it. Roman screamed as they were both sucked into the abyss.
His scream ended abruptly as he was flung up into Remus' room, the hole now acting as a geyser of sorts. Roman landed in an unruly manner and was knocked out of breath while Remus landed swiftly on his knee before rolling up into a standing position.
"Home, Smelly Home!" He proudly declared with his hands on his hips, either unaware of or uncaring towards his brother's struggle to get up from the floor.
"Shouldn't have opened my big mouth..." Mumbled Roman as he dusted his clothes off and tried to straighten his appearance, only for his work to be completely undone when Remus yanked him into his side and rustled his hair with his elbow. "Hey! Stop that! Do you have any idea how long it takes to do my hair?"
"Eh, it was already messed up anyways." Remus slapped Roman's shoulder, "Now come on slowpoke, I'm gonna give you the grand tour!" Remus then ran off further into his room, causing Roman to have to chase after him in order to keep up.
Remus showed him his bedroom first, which had a mirrored layout to Roman's, but the furniture was darker and more rustic. The decorations looked more like something out of a haunted mansion than a grand palace, like Roman's did. Remus then stopped by his weapons closet, where he finally removed the flamberge sword from his stomach and tossed it haphazardly inside. From what Roman could make out before Remus had shut the door again was that the room looked bigger on the inside than the title 'closet' would suggest. Remus then pointed out a few more small areas of note before eventually leading Roman to the back door.
Every side's room had a front door- where the other sides could enter their room, and a backdoor- where each side could go out of their room and into their own personal section of the mindscape. Most sides referred to it as their 'backyard', of sorts.
Roman followed Remus out of his backdoor and onto a balcony overlooking a dark, twisted forest. The balcony itself was the same design as Roman's own balcony but was made up of black marble instead of white. There were a few cracks here and there, yet it was overall fairly stable. English Ivy crept along the rails and crawled down the side of the castle. There were no stairs in sight, unlike with his own balcony, leading Roman to wonder whether Remus would take the time to climb down the Ivy or simply jump off of the railing in order to enter his backyard.
Remus spread his arms out in a grand gesture before spinning around to sit backwards on the railing, facing Roman. "So, what do ya' think? Badass digs, right?"
Roman, lost in thought and not expecting the question, blurted out the first thing to cross his mind. "We have similar balconies."
Remus raised an amused brow. "No shit, Sher-cock. We're in the same castle. Same castle, same floor plan. Duh."
"Wait, the same castle…?"
Remus shrugged, leaning far enough back on the railing to have Roman worry about him falling over the side of it, "It split when we did. We still share a room and space... it's just-" He waved around a hand dismissively. "Halved, now."
"Ah...so that's the reason we can visit each other without going through our front doors…" Roman walked up to lean forwards on the railing, right beside Remus. "Wonder why I didn't question that sooner?" He rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. "All this time, we were even in the same castle...the same area of the mindscape...and I never- I never even bothered to visit-"
Remus, who had grown bored of the conversation and had started to pick his nose, interrupted Roman's spiral by flicking boogers at him. "Hey now, none of that. You did enough moping back in your own room, you cry baby.*
"Ugh! Ew!" Roman sputtered indignantly and pulled out a doily to wipe his face. "You're disgusting." He huffed.
Remus stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. "If you start saying sad shit again, I'll give you a wet willy." He then leaned towards Roman and started wiggling his fingers menacingly.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me, bitch!"
"Well, if you do that, then I'll- Then I'll shove you off of the balcony!"
Remus faked a scandalized gasp and placed a hand over his chest while the other draped across his forehead. "You'd murder your own dearest brother?!"
"It wouldn't kill you, you overdramatic oaf, sides can't die!"
"You're calling me overdramatic?" Remus abandoned the pose to lean forward with a knowing grin. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."
"Oh shut up." Roman pushed Remus away, before turning around to sit beside him atop the railing.
Remus' eyes widened. "My goody two shoes brother is sitting precariously on a railing? Since when? Is it opposite day? "
"What do you mean? I do dangerous stuff all the time!"
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
Roman gestured wildly, "I slay the dragons! I defeat the monsters! I save the people! I...fight the bad guys…" Roman deflated as his hands fell beside him to lock the rail in a death grip. "But I guess I failed at all of that, huh? So much for being a goody two shoes…"
Remus hummed in thought, nails tapping against the black marble. His legs swayed back and forth as they both looked up at the night sky above them in companionable silence. Roman eventually let out a forlorn sigh and relaxed his grip on the railing. Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gasp and clapped his hands together, startling Roman who in turn almost tipped over the edge of the balcony.
"I have the best idea!"
"Oh no, you're planning something. That can never be good."
" No, no! Really, really! Listen, listen!" Remus smacked Roman's arm and shoulder excitedly in-between each word.
"Okay, okay! Just stop!" Roman slapped Remus' hands away. "Tell me then brother, what is it?"
Remus beamed and jumped to stand back on the balcony. "Okay so, you're saying that the other sides are shutting you out, right? And that they made you feel like a stinky doodoo head?"
"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Totally helps me feel better." Roman grimaced with a sarcastic thumbs up as Remus paced back and forth.
"Right! So, they're starting to treat you like a villain. And J-Anus as a good guy?"
"I- I guess? That's like the bare essentials of what happened...I mean, that's what it seems like--Ugh, just what are you getting at?!"
Remus stopped pacing to spin towards Roman and spread his hands out. "So why not just be a villain?"
"......what?"
"Join the dark sides with me!" Remus then awkwardly faked a modeling pose. "We have great fashion! And weapons! Lots of weapons!"
Roman scoffed. "I know, I saw your weapons closet." He slid off the railing to stand in front of his brother. "But what makes you think I'd want to be a villain?"
"Well, they made you feel fucking awful, right?" Remus leaned forward with a menacing grin, "So why not give them a little hell in return?"
"What, as in revenge?! I'm supposed to be a purveyor of justice!"
Remus shrugged and started circling Roman. "Where's the justice in always shutting you out? Of always telling you that everything you do is wrong? Of splitting us apart?" He stopped to put his hands on Roman's shoulders again. "Aren't you tired of trying to be a good guy all the time? Don't you just want to let loose and raise a little hell?"
Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands together. He looked down at his feet as his brother's words rang through his head. Where was the justice in that? He had always tried to do the right thing before. To be the good guy. To be the hero. But no one ever appreciated his efforts. Instead they always, always focused only on his mistakes.
The other sides' voices chimed off in his head.
"Roman, you can't do that." "Shut up Roman." "That was wrong, Roman." "Stop being so dramatic, Roman."
He pushed those invading voices furiously away and tried to reorganize his thoughts.
Him, joining the dark sides? Could it even be done? A light side had never switched over to the dark side before... Well, unless you counted the original Creativity and their split. Where a part of that Creativity had...had been pushed to the dark sides and…
Roman's eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at his brother. "You too." He breathed out.
Remus squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Hah?"
"Always being shut out. Always being told everything you do is wrong. Being forced to split apart." Roman grabbed the hands that were on his shoulders to move them down and squeeze them reassuringly. "You experienced all of that too. Even more than I did…Don't you want to raise hell too?"
Roman grinned in a very in unprincely manner and released Remus' hands. He swept his arms aside in a grand motion. "Let's raise hell together, brother. What do you say?"
Remus stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking out into a shit eating grin of his own. "Hell yeah! Hell mother fucking yeah!" He jumped up and down excitedly and clapped his hands. "Oh! We're gonna have so much fun! Those butt holes have no idea what's coming."
Roman chuckled fondly at his brother's enthusiasm. He felt lighter than he had in years. Free of responsibility. Free of expectations. Free of limitations. Free to do whatever he wanted. Speaking of which…
"You mentioned fashion earlier, didn't you?" Roman pulled at the hem of his shirt in thought before smirking up at Remus. "I believe for me to officially join the dark sides, a makeover may be in order."
Remus nodded and grabbed his brother's hand to drag him back inside, chanting, "Makeover time! Makeover time!" The entire way while pumping his fist victoriously into the air.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, in Thomas' living room.
"-and a part of taking care of yourself is to not self-deprecate." Janus was explaining, standing next to Logan.
"Yeah, you've gotta compliment yourself sometimes, Thomas!" Patton added happily.
Thomas scratched the back of his head nervously. "I don't know guys... isn't that a little…"
"Conceited?" Virgil cut in, glaring over at Janus' before looking back to Thomas. "What if we end up doing that out loud in front of others? What if people think we're stuck up?"
"Well, it's better than always thinking so negatively of himself." Janus spat out.
"Janus has a point, Virgil. It's been proven that constant self-deprecating behavior can have a wide range of negative effects on one's psyche and mental health." Logan chinned in while adjusting his glasses. "Which could also lead to eventual negative effects on one's physical health, including-"
"Well, I mean yeah!-" Virgil rushed to interrupt, "He shouldn't think too badly of himself...but he shouldn't think too highly of himself, either!" He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the empty space where Roman usually stood. "I mean, what if Thomas ends up as stuck up as Princy here, huh? What would you do then-"
"Wait-" Thomas interrupted him, "Where is Roman? Has anyone seen him lately?"
The sides fell silent as they all looked curiously towards the empty spot.
"I haven't seen him since Janus joined us... Patton, didn't you check up on him or something?"
"Well, yeah! Of course I did kiddo!" Patton nodded then pouted, "He didn't seem to want to talk to me though…"
"Has anyone actually talked to Roman in a while? Where is he?"
The sides gave Thomas varying degrees of shrugs and noncommittal answers in response.
Thomas sighed, "Really, guys?" He then looked towards the corner again and called out, "Roman! Are you there? Are you listening? If so, come on up! You should join us!"
They waited in awkward silence for a while for Roman to appear, or to at least respond to Thomas' call...until they heard a deep chuckle emanating from behind the tv.
"Join you? Nope! Not possible~"
Hands crept out from behind the tv, grabbing onto the wall, causing everyone in the room to immediately be alert. They remembered the last time they saw hands there...this couldn't be good! Something was wrong! Sure enough, Remus slowly emerged, climbing up the wall as if he was a lizard. He then twisted his head around, causing Patton to almost faint from fear. Thomas, meanwhile, backed away as far as he could without falling over the couch.
"I'm afraid he's already joined someone else!~"
Remus jumped off of the wall to land in Roman's designated spot. His head and body shifted back to their original positions and he grinned at the others with his arms spread out. Now, the others could see that along with his usual attire, he also donned a crooked and cracked silver crown atop his head. His purplish eyeshadow was gone, instead replaced with a messily applied sparkly silver eyeshadow. Some of the glitter from it fell down the sides of his face to freckle his cheeks as well. The wide grin of his lips was painted in a deep green lipstick.
"Me!"
"Remus…?" Janus breathed out, confused.
"I didn't call for you! I called for Roman!" Thomas shouted once he had regained his composure from witnessing such a horrifying sight.
Virgil bristled and stood up from where he had been leaning against the stairs. "Where is he? What did you do with him?" He bared his teeth at Remus as if he was an agitated guard dog.
Remus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with a laugh. "What did I do to him?" He leaned forward with a smirk. "What did you do to him? Huh?"
"Wha-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything..." Stammered out Patton.
"Also, did he change his makeup?" Muttered Thomas, "It actually looks kinda good…"
"Focus on the main issue here, dudes!" Virgil snapped his fingers at them both before turning back to Remus. "Okay, whatever. It doesn't matter wherever you put him, just give him back!"
Remus chuckled and stepped to the side, "You hear that, dear brother? Sounds like they're ready for you to come out!~"
At that, the tv seemed to flicker to life. A colorful error screen appeared and started to crackle and fizz. As the glow from the tv lit up the room, the rest of the room started to glitch along with it.
The sides glanced around nervously, fear creeping into their bones once more.
"What's going on? What's happening to the room?!" Thomas panicked.
Logan placed a hand on his chin. "These types of spatial effects seeming to happen in Thomas' physical living room instead of just inside the mindscape...could it be?"
"No…" Gasped Janus, "No, it can't be!"
"Oh but it can!~" Announced another voice from inside the tv.
Hands reached out from inside the error screen to grasp the sides of the tv. A form slowly climbed out of the tv and stepped into the living room.
"......Roman? What on earth are you wearing?!" Virgil waved a hand incredulously at his new get up.
Roman, now fully standing beside Remus in his usual spot, smirked at Virgil and flicked his cape. "It's called fashion, Midnight Query."
Roman's usual outfit was now black in all of the areas it used to be white. On top of that, he wore a red velvet cape with a white and black spotted fur trim. On his shoulder laid a skull where the cape connected and clasped shut. His upper eyelid was decorated in sparkly gold eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner which spread out into a cat-eye look. His smirk donned blood red lipstick and a crown identical to Remus' was atop his head, except his crown was golden and not crooked or cracked at all. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fairytale…but as an evil king instead of a noble prince.
"Perhaps you should try it sometime, Dark and Dreary. It might make you look less…" Roman made a point of looking Virgil up and down before waving his hand at him with a scowl, "Drab."
"Roman! Where have you been? I missed you. Your makeup looks great!" Patton rambled ecstatically.
"Missed me?" He sneered, "Ha! I bet you all didn't even realize that I was gone." Roman then looked down to check his meticulously manicured nails with a bored expression.
"Of course we did! That's why I called you!" Insisted Thomas.
Roman tsked and shook his head. "Oh Thomas, Thomas. Always the peacemaker." He moved the hand he had been checking to flip his cape over his shoulder. "But I'm not here to make peace. We're here to raise hell. Isn't that right, brother?"
In response, Remus summoned a pitch black flamberge sword and stabbed the blade into the ground. "Hell yeah we are!"
The area of the floor that he smashed cracked open to reveal an eerie green and yellow glow. Small shadow hands emerged as little demons started crawling through the cracks.
Roman summoned a longsword with a ruby embedded in its hilt and slashed at the wall. Red and orange flames burst forth from the rip as even more shadow demons started to join them.
The glitching of the room from the tv screen grew at an alarming rate, some of the glitches covering entire pieces of furniture.
"What on earth is happening!?" Thomas screamed, gesturing wildly at, well, everything.
"Roman, you need to stop this now!" Virgil growled, slipping into his Tempest Tongue.
"Yeah kiddo," chuckled Patton nervously as he tried to wrestle his hoodie away from a demon that was currently trying to steal it. "Isn't this a tad bit extreme?"
Roman laughed darkly, raising his sword into a shrug. "And why should I?"
Remus rested his elbow on Roman's shoulder, "We haven't even begun to have our fun yet!"
Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus, "Remus, this is not what I meant when I said-"
"Blah blah blah!" Remus mimed a mouth with his hand. "That's all you are, anacon-don't. All talk, no action!"
"What's going on?! Why isn't anyone answering me?!"
"Well, Thomas, it appears that Roman and Remus have initiated-" Logan started only to get interrupted by Virgil.
"They started Daymare Mode!" Virgil shouted as he angrily threw a demon that had been crawling on him into the wall, knocking it out instantly.
"Daymare Mode? What's Daymare Mode?!"
"It's a combination of Daydream Mode and Nightmare Mode." Janus explained while shaking a demon off of his hat with a sneer, "It's a state Creativity can only achieve when it's whole…"
"So, what? They can affect the real world now that they're working together?!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas." Chastised Logan, "You're technically just hallucinating-"
"I'm hallucinating?!"
"Yes, that is what I just said."
A demon tugged at Logan's pant leg only to be sent running away in fear by a well-placed harsh glare.
Patton, finally having gotten his hoodie free, tied it back around his shoulders and clapped his hands. "Okay, you two! That's enough. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today, but-"
"Oh no, no, no." Roman waved a finger at him, "I'm afraid we're not going to be listening to you anymore, padre."
"We've got our own plans, Daddy DingDong!"
"Oh yeah?" Hissed Janus, "And what exactly are those?"
"You can't do them, whatever they are!" Virgil yelled out as he stomped on another demon's tail, sending it hopping away in pain. "We won't let you. I won't let you!"
Remus and Roman exchanged amused glances before turning back to the others.
"You don't have to let us do anything," Roman hummed, "We're the kings. We shall do whatever we want." He waved a dismissive hand.
"Hear ye, Hear ye! The Twin Kings of Creativity!" Hollered Remus, as both twins raised their swords triumphantly in the air, "We take no shit and kick some ass!"
"To us!" Roman high fived Remus' hand, then turned to grin menacingly at the others, "And now, time for you to go to hell."
"To hell?!" Thomas gasped, looking desperately back and forth at the other sides.
Logan's eyes widened, having figured out what they were planning to do. "Roman, if I'm correct- and I always am- then I'd advise against-"
"Too late, Deuce Banner!" Remus shouted triumphantly as he and Roman clashed their weapons together. The sound from the clang resonated in all of their heads, making their vision blurry.
Thomas gripped the sides of his head, trying to get the ringing to stop hurting his ears. His head felt like it was splitting open. And then, there was nothing. Just a fade to black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thomas gasped for air as he woke up. Wait, woke up? Had it all been a dream? Thank god-!
"Well, well, well. It's about damn time." Drawled Roman.
"We thought you were never gonna come to!" Laughed Remus.
Thomas jumped up in surprise from where he'd been laying on the floor, only to immediately regret moving so harshly as he felt his head swim. "Ow ow ow." He gripped his forehead and peered around, "What-"
"Welcome, welcome!" Roman proclaimed as he spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "To the Kingdom of Creativity."
Thomas looked up to see Roman and Remus sitting side by side on twin thrones, one gold with red cushions and one silver with green cushions. Roman sat up straight with impeccable posture and one leg crossed over the other. Remus lay sideways across his throne, kicking his feet and tossing what appeared to be a grenade up and down as if it was a baseball.
"...What? Where am I?"
"We just told you." Scoffed Roman, "You're in the Kingdom of Creativity." At Thomas' confused frown, he continued, "You're in our room, Thomas."
"Your room?" Thomas looked around at the ornate throne room. "It doesn't look like my living room, like the others' did."
"That's cause we're not as boring as the other sides." Sighed Roman, "We have much more pizazz." He gestured at the room around them. "We did some redecorating recently, actually. What do you think, hmm?"
The throne room was mainly black, with silver and gold furniture giving the darkness a stark contrast. Banners of their two symbols hung on opposite sides of the room in correspondence with each side's throne. Overall it gave off a majestic yet eerie feel.
"It's- Um." Thomas finally stood up from his position on the floor and glanced around nervously. "It's certainly something. But um, where are the others…?"
He had long since noticed that it was just him and the twins in this room. The others had seemingly vanished into thin air. Their continued disappearance was making him more and more uneasy as each second ticked by.
Remus huffed and casually threw the grenade over his shoulder and out a window, causing an explosion to be heard outside. "What's wrong Thomathy, our room not up to snuff with the others? You prefer Daddyo's and Scene-Kid's rooms? Huh?"
"What? No!" Thomas raised his hands placatingly, not wanting to anger the two currently volatile sides, "You're room is fine! It's great! It's just they were here and now they're not here and I was just wondering-"
"They're off on their own adventure right now, Thomas." Roman butted in. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters right now is us. Don't you want to stay here with us, Thomas? We can show you around the castle~!"
"Um- No, that's fine... No thank you." Thomas smiled as his voice shook. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here... I need to find the others."
Roman's pleased smile immediately fell into a scowl, "Fine, then. You want to see the others so badly?" He stood up from his throne and gestured for his brother to do the same. "Then why don't you just join them already!"
The both summoned their new weapons again, causing Thomas to start to panic. "Wait! Don't! Not again!"
"Too late, Thomas. You should have accepted our gracious offer."
"We could've had so much fun together!" Chirped Remus.
"And we will! You're just not ready yet, it seems." Roman sighed with a disappointed frown, "Now, for the time being~"
"Have fun in hell instead!~" The twins chimed in unison as they clashed their swords together for a second time.
The clanging rang in Thomas' already aching head as everything fell into the blackness once more.
#creativitwins#Darkside!roman#darkside roman#dark!roman#my fics#sanders sides#sanders side fic#i had too much fun writing this#though the living room scene was way too many characters to keep up with holy shit#yes i ended it on a cliffhanger no i am not sorry#will i continue this au?? probably not lmao#the rest is up to your i-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n!~~~
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What Do We Do Now?- Chp. 1
Rating: E for now, explicit in later chapters
Pairing: Din x fem!Reader
Summary: A certain Mandalorian picks up your bounty.
Read on ao3 here!
You were really regretting your decision to not cut your hair this morning, as it was the sole reason you were currently face down in some dusty cantina with both of your wrists in a bruising grip behind your back.
In the spare moment you have in the time it takes for the Mandalorian to slap a pair of cuffs onto your wrists, you think back to the events earlier that day.
…
Tatooine was hot, and you hated it. You had been hiding on the dusty little planet for a little over 3 months. With a bounty looming over your head, you knew you needed to find a planet where the Guild no longer operated. Tatooine wasn’t the best option, still filled to the brim with Outer Rim scum, but it would work.
At least, you thought it would.
You stared at yourself in the small mirror, in the small refresher, within the even smaller flat you managed to rent out with your limited supply of credits. Tired eyes stared back at you, this whole “fugitive of the law” was getting to you. You took to the role pretty well, however. You knew you weren’t notable, and that’s the way you liked it. Average height, average build, average everything. You knew standing out would get you into trouble, so you did your best to avoid it at all costs. The only reprieve from this normality you allowed yourself was your hair. It was exceptionally long for a blazing planet like the one you currently resided on. When braided, how you normally wore it, in one long rope down your back, it easily reached the curve of your ass.
Today, like every day, you thought about cutting it off at the nape of your neck. You knew it would be better for you in the long run.
It would at least cool me off, you thought sourly.
Despite the logic in it, you could never bring yourself to do it. Maybe it had to do with your mother and the often horrific haircuts she managed to give you consistently as a child. You shivered at the thought of your mother finding out about the bounty on your head. She would kill you herself.
You didn’t mean to end up like this. Parents dead, no family left, and most importantly, no credits had left you in a tight spot as a young woman in the Outer Rim. You knew there were only two options for someone in your position, and you certainly were not pretty enough to make money off the most common option, so you became a thief. Petty at first, only stealing from those you deemed deserving. As you grew older, however, so did your crimes. Larger values, higher-profile targets, until you stole from the wrong person. Well, not stole per se. More like freed. Some high-profile dignitary from the Empire who still had influence. You had only planned to take the typical valuables, credits, and such. It was only by coincidence that you happened to free what you assumed was a typical house slave.
She had found you mid-job, begged you to get her out. She had looked so broken. So innocent. You cursed to yourself and hauled her out of the mansion with you.
Apparently, that “house slave” had really been “Mrs. Important Dignitary”, so essentially, you stole the guy’s wife. Great. If only you hadn’t been so soft. You knew it would get you in trouble. You knew-
You were shaken out of your thoughts by voices outside your window.
One soft, speaking so quickly they were almost tripping over their words. You creaked the door to the fresher and peaked your head out just enough to see though the small window in the side of your flat and into the alley beyond. You saw the quiet figure, but couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying. A young man you realized now was a local of the area, you had seen him around. But why did he look so scared? You craned your neck in an attempt to see who was frightening this man so, but you couldn’t do it without being directly in the mystery man’s eyeline. So you waited for a response as the other man trailed off. However, one never came. You simply saw a wild reflection of the light of the suns dance over the ally as you assumed the other person turned to walk away.
Armor, your stomach dropped as your mind supplied the explanation. Whether or not this person was here for you was still up for debate, but you knew they were dangerous. Only dangerous people still wore armor in the face of the blazing heat of Tatooine.
Once you were sure the armor-wearer had left, you snuck out of the fresher, grabbed your blaster, and vaulted quietly out the window to tail the other man. You fell into step behind him as he exited the ally and entered the busy street. You followed him through the crowd, staying enough paces behind him that he didn’t notice. You followed him for a good five minutes before he took an abrupt turn down another deserted alley. It was at this point he noticed you following him and tried to break into a sprint.
You were on him before he could even let the first beat land, pressing him up against a building lining the way with your arm at his sternum. He was taller than you, so you pointed your blaster up and dug it under his chin.
“Who the hell were you talking to?” you demanded, dropping your voice to the most intimidating octave you could muster.
The man in front of you sputtered, eyes wide with fear. You needed an answer.
You dug your blaster harder into the soft flesh under his jaw, presumably making it harder to breathe.
“Who?!” you practically growled at him, hoping it would do the trick
The man opened his mouth as if to answer you before the words died in his mouth. His eyes went even wider than before, if that was possible, and fixed on something above and behind your head. Your eyes remained on the man, but something behind him distracted you just as equally.
The same dancing lights you had just seen outside your flat made their way across the building behind the two of you. Your head whipped around to see a wall of armor standing at the mouth of the ally.
That bastard sent a Mandalorian? You were dead. That’s it, game over. Dead.
Even though your brain knew you were dead, your instincts still kicked in enough to release the man and shove him toward the entrance of the ally in one swift motion before taking off in the opposite direction. You fought the urge to turn back as you ran harder than you ever had in your life.
He knew I saw him question that man, he knew I would follow him to get answers.
At least you would get taken down by a clever bounty hunter.
More pressingly, you were coming to the end of the ally, closed off by a large gate. No way over it, you thought, too high. Sides? Pressed flush against the building, no getting through there. Bottom? Now there’s an option. The bottom was just high enough off the ground for you to shimmy through. Even though you only caught a glimpse of the Mandalorian, you knew he was too bulky to ever follow.
You might actually get away with this.
You dared yourself a glance back and the Mandalorian was nearly on you.
How is he so fast with all that shit on him?
You were only a few paces from the fence, it was now or never. You dove. Your upper body sparked in pain as you impacted the rough dirt. You slid smoothly until your ass hit the fence. Dammit. You desperately shimmied the rest of the way under the fence. You were almost there. You were going to make it.
Then you felt a grip on your boot, the only part of you not under the fence. You yelped loudly as you were ruthlessly pulled back, the majority of your calf returning to the other side. Your fingers clawed at the ground and your other leg kicked desperately at the gloved hand that held you.
Maker, he’s too strong
With another tug, you were almost up to your knees on the other side of the fence. While you were grunting and panting hard, the helmet behind you was absolutely silent, unnervingly so.
You knew you had to come up with something now. He still only managed to have you around your left ankle, so you brought your other foot up and pushed at the top of your left boot, hard. It slid free of your foot, and with one more push, your socked foot came out and pushed off the ground for leverage. He grabbed only a moment late as the last bits of you slipped under the fence. You kicked desperately at the ground and ran, only pausing when you were sure there was an absence of footsteps behind you.
You turned briefly and saw the Mandalorian standing there. A thrill ran through you.
What?
This man was trying to kill you, and yet the sight of him just standing there, glowering, still gripping your boot in his hand sent fire to the pit of your stomach. He was tall, taller than you first realized. Even in the alley far apart he seemed to crowd over you with his presence alone. You met where you assumed his eyes would be behind the t-shaped visor.
You could only imagine what he saw. Your eyes wide, mouth open, covered in dirt and wearing only one shoe.
This image of yourself roused you from your frankly insane thoughts, and you turned and ran.
…
After getting over what little pride you had garnered from managing to escape a Mandalorian, you realized how absolutely fucked you were.
Where were you supposed to go?
You couldn’t go back to your flat, that was out of the question. You couldn’t shack up with anyone you knew and liked in town, that would automatically put them in danger. You couldn’t shack up with anyone you knew and disliked because they would never let you in the front door, probably try to deliver you to the Mandalorian themselves.
So you end in the only place in which you knew you could get passage of the planet, the cantina. Thankfully it was busy tonight, so you could blend in well enough. You waited well late in the night, hiding close enough to see the entry and exit. No armor in sight. After your anxiety had built to a crescendo, you pushed yourself out of your hiding place and, on shaky legs, made your way to the front door. You entered with your hood pushed up over your head and your braid tucked into your cloak, trying to move as inconspicuously as possible. That was, until you heard your name shouted as loudly as possible.
You winced as your name echoed throughout the room and heads turned, yours slowly moving to face the voice that gave you away.
Ali. You love her to death, but she wasn’t the brightest one in the galaxy. She beamed at you from behind the bar, surrounded by patrons and their wandering eyes as usual. Ali was beautiful and she loved the attention, something you very much did not need right now.
You quickly made your way over to her at the bar, the serious look on your face made her cheerful expression drop at once.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she questioned, still in a too-loud voice.
“I’m fine, just hiding” you gritted out from behind clenched teeth.
Ali seemed to get with the program then, lowering her voice and body to match your crunched position over the counter.
“Someone’s collecting on your bounty?” she whispered intently, with a trace of concern for you in her voice that softened your previous anger at her.
You had told her about your bounty about a month after being in town, you trusted her, she was good. That is why you very much did not want her caught up in this mess.
“Yes”, you replied, “A Mandalorian”
You saw the same realization hit her as had hit you.
“You’re dead” she said with wide eyes.
Great.
“I know, I’m trying to get off-planet. Are there any ships passing through tonight?”
“Not that I’ve heard, I’m sorry”
She really was.
You gave her a tight smile and turned to leave when you heard your name for a second time that day.
This time, it came from a gruff, older voice, and it came from a man pointing right at you from across the cantina.
The man was standing next to a solid wall of armor, with a familiar visor pointed straight at you.
Shit.
He made for you before you could make for the door, crossing the floor in seconds and grabbing your cloak. The same trick worked twice apparently, as you reached up and released the clasp around your throat and pushed yourself to a sprint toward the door.
You were going to make it, you were so close, you-
The next thing you knew, a blinding pain erupted from the back of your head and the world tilted around you until your shoulders smashed into the rough floor.
He grabbed your braid.
That was low.
One hand still wrapped tight around your hair, his other hand was used to flip you onto your stomach and wrench your wrists behind your back. Cuffs were slapped on and hummed to life as his knees caged your back. You bucked, trying to get him off you, or at least make him move, but he was solid.
The lost chance of cutting your hair this morning flashed in your mind, you grimaced with regret.
You kept thrashing, and in return, he wound your braid around his hand and yanked, earning a yelp from you as your head and chest were lifted from their place smashed into the ground and his helmet lowered so it was level with your face.
“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold”
You stilled. It was the first time you heard his voice, and it sent a thrill through your spine. Maker, what was wrong with you.
The slight arousal was quickly tamped down and replaced with overwhelming fear as he wrenched you from your position on the ground and to your feet.
The entire cantina had gone quiet with your brawl, all eyes on you both. As he pulled you into a standing position, he cast a glance, or at least you thought he did, at the other patrons, who all quickly averted their eyes and continued their conversations in hushed whispers.
He began to pull you to the door and you made final, desperate eye contact with Ali who looked devastated. You gave her a small smile as a goodbye and the door to the cantina slammed shut behind the two of you.
...
#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#mando x reader#mando x you#fanfic#ao3
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Member/s: Jongin(EXO)
Genre:NSFW, Vampire!Kai
Warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, NSFW content
Words: 2348
I made a little moodboard for this oneshot 😊
I could almost hear my blood flow through my veins as I moved through the dark hallways. I had taken my shoes off so I make less noise, so now I'm roaming the dark castle completely barefoot. An amateurish move, but that was the only thing I could think of. I stopped in my tracks when I felt a cold breeze on my left side.
My heart sunk in fear and I found myself gulping and getting ready to run. I was lost, so there was no way I was turning around: going forward was the only way. I had promised myself that if I got out alive, I'd kill my colleagues. I wasn't one of the best investigators like them, they had just transferred me last week to a higher level. They used me as a bait to see how safe the castle is.
When I felt the cold breeze on my right side, I dropped my sneakers on the floor and started running for life. He's here. He exists. And he may not be as merciful as his crazy fangirls describe him. I want to keep my blood inside me and my neck clean from any bites.
I sighed in relief when I found a stairway that led down to what seemed like the garden. Hopefully, it's not a graveyard. Just as my hand reached for the fence, a firm, cold hand grabbed my wrist and I found myself screaming uncontrollably. I closed my eyes almost shaking in fear. The cold breeze was everywhere around me and the hand was still on my wrist. Soon I feel the other one on my mouth, muffling my ear piercing screams.
"Quiet."
The voice was husky and made me obey him. Before I could say anything else, I felt a strong pain on the back of my head and I found myself falling into his cold arms.
***
I was awoken by a loud slamming that sounded like a window being shut. I could hear the wind, but I couldn't see anything. When I had troubles to open my eyes, I realised I was blindfolded. That son of a b*tch blindfolded me. I tried moving my arms, but they were tied by a soft, silky material. I couldn't feel any pain, so I guessed he hadn't done anything to me.
"Feeling comfortable?", the voice spoke.
"Untie me. Now.", I demanded.
"No.", I shivered as I felt a breath near my ear. "Who sent the little girl to a dangerous castle at night?"
"That's my job."
"Your job is to break into homes? What did you even plan to do, stupid girl? Go inside, check if I'm real, then quickly go outside? Maybe snap a few pictures?" The blindfold was roughly taken off of my eyes and I immediately closed them. I wasn't ready for whatever was in front of me. "You can't even look at me. I don't understand. Are you really stupid or did someone make you do this?"
"I'm not stupid. I'm just trying my best and-"
"Look at me.", the husky voice interrupted me. "Open your eyes, dolly. You came to play, now let's play. Open them."
He quickly went from playful to serious and it scared me to death. I was squirming on the soft mattress, as if I really had a way out of this. Then, I felt his cold fingers wrap around my neck and I gasped. That's it. I'm going to die.
"You smell very nice. You look enchanting, so ready to be my sweet treat. So ready to die."
For a second I thought I stopped breathing. His movements were slow and I knew I could expect anything from him. "No, please-"
"Quiet."
My soul almost left my body when I felt a warm, wet tongue brushing against my neck, from my collarbone to my jaw. I heard low humming as he pulled away and I finally allowed myself to open my eyes.
I was greeted with dark, red eyes and a smirk. I was laying on a big bed with red sheets and the man in front of me had both of his legs on my sides, trapping me between them. He was on his knees, his hands on the sides of my head. "Hello." I thought of screaming again, but it would just make him angry. Who knows where he'd tie me up next? A dungeon maybe?
My eyes were staring back at his as I tried to breathe as normal as I could. His body was almost pressing against mine, but he supported himself with his hands on the mattress. "Please, let me go.", I begged. The brown haired man smirked at my words and licked his lips slowly.
"I let go everyone who enters. It's no fun anymore, don't you think?", he whispered. His nose was almost touching mine and I could feel his soft hair brushing against my forehead. "I'm sorry to inform you, but you're staying here for now. I can't let go a prey like this. Unused. Fresh. Perfect."
I could almost feel my heart jumping out of my chest. This was too much for me. I could end up dead in a second, so I tried my best to be nice towards him. "What do you want from me?", I asked, trying to find a way to get out of here.
"I don't want anything from you, I want you. I want to use the best I can from you. It would be a tragedy to let you go, stupid girl."
I watched as he took the soft material in his hands again and put it back on my eyes. "What kind of sick games do you plan to play?"
"Do not worry. You're going to love it. But not now. Tomorrow, dolly."
The shadow above me disappeared, just like the coldness that followed him everywhere. "Where are you going?"
"Good night.", he didn't answer my question. The room went dark and the door shut behind him. And he left me there, on a big bed with soft sheets, tied up and blindfolded. It was going to be an amazing night.
***
I managed to fall asleep after what seemed like hours of squirming. The room was still dark, so I assumed he had kept his windows closed. I figured it was because of the fact that he was a vampire, but they had advanced and our recent studies showed that they aren't what they used to be. Except two things: manipulative and filthy rich. They kept their old way of living in castles and dressing in dark clothes. All I could see last night were his dark hair and dark red eyes. I couldn't find the strength to look away, his eyes were too mesmerizing. The bastard had locked me inside and God knew when he would let me go. If he ever planned on letting me go, of course.
I tried to free myself one more time, and to my surprise, my hands were untied. Hurriedly, I took off the blindfold from my eyes and gasped. The room was big, covered in paintings and wooden furniture. I was now sitting on a big bed, covered with black and red sheets. They were silky and soft and I had a feeling that I would slip on the floor any second.
"Good morning, little bird."
My head turned towards the door. He was slowly walking towards me with a smirk on his face. His lips were matching is red eyes and his hair was slicked up, a few strands falling in front of his eyes. "F*ck you.", I hissed at him. I couldn't find the strenght to move, so I just sat there, waiting for his next words.
"F*ck me? Is that what you want? I could make that wish come true."
His hand pressed against my chest and pushed me to lay back on the bed. I found myself in the same position as last night, with him above me again. "I-Is that blood?", I gulped staring down at the red liquid on his bottom lip. A laugh escapes his mouth and he slowly licks the remaining drops of blood from his lips.
"I guess I could say your colleagues were tasty.", he smirked.
I wasn't sad. That's what they deserved for letting the youngest one go. The way things went, I thought I might join them very soon. "So you had your breakfast. Why do you need me?" I couldn't help but admit that he was a big refreshing, compared to all the old vampires I've encountered until now. He was extremely good looking and his smirk, whether I liked it or not, shot me right in the stomach. I always pitied women who threw themselves on his kind, just because some of them were handsome and gave off a big dominant energy. But right now, I'm starting to question myself.
"Oh, we're going to have so much fun. I bet nobody ever pleased you they way they should have. Have you ever been pleased at all, dolly?", his hands reached towards the bedframe again and I mentally groaned when I saw the silk laces. I gulped as he took both of my hands and tied them up, completely leaving me in his hands again. "Have you?", he repeated.
"No.", I whispered. I had never been pleased by anyone, just myself a few times. It felt good, but my small hands couldn't do the perfect job.
"I will show you, little bird. As much as I want to watch your lips take in my c*ck, I think it's fair if I show you true pleasure this time. That's what you deserve after being trapped here all night, don't you think?"
I shivered as his cold fingers brushed against my skin while taking off my sweatshirt. He licked his lips one more time and looked at me. All my clothes were soon laying on the cold floor and all I could do was stare at him and his movements. I'd lie if I said that I didn't enjoy his next one: his hands unbuttoned his white, long sleeved shirt and revealed his muscular body. He rolled his sleeves up and placed his hands on my waist.
"Now, darling. I need to know how good I'm doing my job, alright? So you will say my name. Say it as loud as you want.", the brown haired boy brought his lips close to mine, almost touching them, "Kai. Say it."
His soft lips brushed against mine as he spoke, almost making me faint. "Kai.", I whispered into his mouth.
"Good girl."
His lips left mine and he pressed them on my neck. His tongue left a wet trace and he stopped when he reached my breasts. I let out a gasp when I felt a cold hand grabbing my breast, carefully playing with it, while the other one still layed on my waist. The pleasure was building up at the bottom of my stomach with every single movement he did on my breasts and I found myself sighing in pleasure. The pleasure stopped too soon. He brought his tongue back to my skin and left traces until he reached my lower stomach.
"Don't worry. You're going to beg for more.", as soon as he said that, Kai pressed his cold fingers on my warm sensitive skin, sliding them between my folds.
"Oh-"
"My name, little bird. Say my name.", he was enjoying every second of it. He kept rubbing my clit softly, earning quiet moans from me. "Or am I not doing a good job?"
His fingers sped up and now I found myself moaning louder, internally begging for more. The feeling was so much better than when I did it. He knew exactly what to do. "More, please.", I managed to beg.
I watched him as he lowered his head with a smirk and moved his fingers. He looked up at me once again, then spread my folds with his two fingers before sticking his tongue out. I tugged at the silk laces as he slowly licked me up and down, taking his time.
"Kai-", I breathed out and threw my head back. My body was completely relaxed in his hands and pleasure was starting to build up in my stomach again.
"Beautiful.", he whispered against my clit, then sped up his movements. His other hand joined his tongue, earning much louder moans and gasps from me. The ball of pleasure kept growing, and his tongue worked harder against me. Kai occasionally let out a few hums, pleased with my noises. "So wet and needy, stupid girl." At this point, I didn't mind him calling me that. It even made me whimper, causing him to laugh. The wet sounds he was making made everything hotter. I couldn't believe how good a person can feel. He looked so focused and pleased with his impact he had on me. "Come on, baby. Finish for me. Show me how good I make you feel."
He pulled away from me, but his fingers kept working. His pace got quicker and messier, showing no mercy to my sensitive clit. Luckily, my wetness made it easier for him to move and better for me to feel. Suddenly, a big wave of pleasure washed over my body. I let go of the laces gasping for air. My lips called out his name a few more times in a whisper.
"Good girl.", he repeated, untying my hands. My body was tired and helpless, so I just layed there in front of him, waiting for his next step. "If you wish to investigate again, I will be here. A rookie like you never gets enough of games like this."
He was right. Even though I layed there still tired, my mind was replaying all the moments which had happened just a few minutes ago. I knew I was going to come back again.
#exo imagines#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop oneshots#kpop requests#exo#exo jongin#jongin#exo smut#exo fluff#exo angst#exo requests#exo oneshot#exo scenarios#kai#kai exo#exo kai#kai oneshot#kpop smut#kpop moodboard#exo moodboard#vampire kai#vampire!kai#vampire!exo
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New World CH. Eighteen
Title: Alive
Words: 3001
Warnings: Strong language, talk of rape and past assault (no actual rape or assault), talk of killing
A/N: Enjoy!
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New World Masterlist
Daryl Dixon Masterlist
The Walking Dead Masterlist
Masterlist
~~~~~~~
Dean
Dean was running along the fence when he saw Daryl and Merle. Heart pounding in his chest, he quickened his pace until Merle was on the ground, face in the dirt.
“What the hell are ya doin’?” Daryl said angrily.
Dean didn’t answer and just dug his knee into Merle’s back, causing him to let out a yell of pain.
“The fuck is he doing here, Rick?” Dean asked Rick.
“They came out of the woods and saved me,” Rick said. “If they weren’t here, I’d be dead.”
“He’s not coming inside,” Dean spat.
“He is,” Daryl said. “Now get offa him!”
Dean shook his head. “No! He hurt [y/n] and Glenn! And you decided to leave! So why are you here, huh? What brought you back?”
“We had a talk,” Merle said, voice muffled.
“Dean, let him go,” Rick said. With a huff, Dean got off of Merle and stalked back to the prison, not giving any of the men a second glance.
---
When Dean got back inside the safety of the intact fences, he gave Glenn a look.
“What’s wrong?” Glenn asked. “Is Rick okay?”
“Rick’s fine.” Dean glanced at the prison and clenched his fists.
“They’re both here, aren’t they?” Glenn said. Dean nodded and neither of them said anything, turning to go back inside.
---
Sam
When Sam saw Sophia get shot, he didn’t even think before his feet were moving and he was crouching beside her. He took his shirt off and was pressing it to the wound as Beth opened the door and Carl was covering them with his rifle.
Quickly, he got Sophia into the medical cell and sat her on the bunk. She was crying and even though it hurt Sam to see her like this, he knew it was a good sign.
“This is going to hurt,” Sam said before he gently peeled his shirt off of the wound. Sophia let out a muffled scream and Sam gently shushed her.
“I need to cut your shirt, okay?”
“Okay,” Sophia whimpered.
Sam cut the shirt and turned her so he could see both sides of her shoulder. Thankfully, there was an exit wound and Sam managed to stop the bleeding. Sophia had passed out due to the pain and Sam worked on stitching her up.
“Is she gonna be alright?” Carol said softly from the doorway. She had a bottle of water, a bowl, and some spare towels in her hands.
“She’s gonna be fine,” Sam said as he took the things from Carol. “I just have to clean and wrap it. We’ll have to keep an eye on it for a while, make sure it doesn’t get infected.”
“Oh thank god. Beth took Adeline and Carl to Judith. They’re startled but fine.” Carol sat down next to her daughter and that was when you came skidding to a halt outside of the cell.
“How’s she doing?” You said out of breath. Sam repeated what he said to Carol and you let out a breath of relief, your body sagging slightly.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that she’s gonna be okay.” You turned to Carol with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought I was getting them out of harm’s way but I only managed to get Sophia hurt.”
“It’s not your fault, honey,” Carol said soothingly. “You weren’t the one to shoot her.”
“Still.” You choked back a sob and walked out of the cell. Carol watched you go with sad eyes before turning her attention to her daughter.
---
It wasn’t long before everyone else filed inside. Merle was locked in the common area while you and everyone else, minus Carol and Sophia, were in the common area. Daryl had climbed the stairs to stand near you and Beth, but without even as much as a look in his direction, you went down to the lower level to stand near Michonne. You didn’t miss the slump of his shoulders or the little breath he let out, but you found yourself not caring.
“Rick, we need to leave,” you said, breaking the silence.
“We’re not leaving.”
“Well, we can’t stay here,” you shot back. Glancing up, you saw Daryl holding Adeline and you shook your head.
“What if there’s another sniper? Wood pallet won’t stop those rounds,” Maggie said.
“We can’t even go outside,” Beth chimed in quietly.
“Maybe not during the day, but we can at night.”
“If Rick say’s we’re not running, then we’re not running,” Glenn said.
“No. Better ta live like rats,” Merle said. You glared at him before turning your attention elsewhere
“You got any better ideas?” Rick said. “I’m all ears.”
“Yeah, we should’a left already. Lived ta fight another day. We lost that window though, didn’t we? I bet that he’s got scouts on every road outta this place by now.”
“We ain’t scared of that prick,” you heard Daryl say. You scoffed loudly and shook your head.
“We should be,” you said. Dean gave you a worried look but you didn’t see it.
“Sugar’s right. That truck through tha fence thing? That was just a welcome ta tha neighborhood from him. We might have some thick walls ta hide behind, but sooner or later he’s gonna come back. He got tha guns and tha numbers.”
“He needs to go in the other cell block,” Maggie said.
“No. He’s gotta point,” Daryl said.
“He might have a point, but I don’t want to see or hear him,” you said sharply. “This is all his fault!”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is!” Beth said, coming down the stairs. “What are we gonna do?”
“I say we should leave. [Y/n] thinks so too. Now both Axel and Oscar are dead and Sophia got shot. We can’t just sit here,” Hershel said. Rick said nothing, turning around and walking away when Hershel yelled at him.
“You’re slipping, Rick,” Hershel said when Rick stopped walking. “We can all see it and we understand why. But now is not the time. You said that this wasn’t a democracy and now you have to own up to that.”
Rick turned to face Hershel and you propped yourself up against the wall, watching the show.
“I put my family’s life in your hands. So get your head clear before anyone else dies. You need to do something before anything else happens.”
Rick gave one last look to Hershel and his gaze landed on you. You met his gaze with your hardened look and Rick was the first one to look away before he walked out of the cell block. With a shake of your head, you pushed yourself off the wall and went to your cell to grab something. Walking back out, you almost ran into Daryl. He reached an arm out to steady you, but you flinched and stepped back.
“[Y/n], can we talk?” He asked you quietly.
“We have nothing to talk about. Now please move so I can leave.” Your voice was harsh and you saw hurt flash in Daryl’s eyes. He moved out of your way and you walked back down the stairs, sitting on the last step.
A few minutes later, Rick came back inside, sending Maggie on watch. Your brothers, Glenn, Michonne, Hershel, Daryl, and Rick stood near the other staircase and started making plans. You didn’t go over to them, knowing one of your brothers would fill you in later. It didn’t take long before Daryl was storming up the stairs, angry at Glenn for dissing his brother.
Soon after, Dean came up to you.
“What’s the plan?” You asked him, knowing full well there wasn’t a plan.
“We don’t have one,” he said with a sigh.
“Figured.”
“[Y/n], I’m gonna say something and I need you to listen,” Dean said after a moment.
“I’m not talking to him,” you said sharply.
“You have to, [y/n]. He’s back and sure, he brought the asshat with him, but you know Daryl.”
“Not as well as I thought. He left when we needed him. When I needed him. He just left!” Your voice was getting louder, not caring who could hear.
“It was his brother, [y/n]. Don’t say that you wouldn’t have done the same if it was me or Sammy,” Dean said, crossing his arms.
“Don’t. Don’t compare yourselves to a man who helps his buddy almost rape someone!” You were yelling now and you didn’t notice Daryl standing at the top of the steps, Carol right next to him.
“The Governor did what?” Daryl said, voice low.
“So now you care? Didn’t seem to when you left,” you said, whirling around to glare at Daryl. “You chose that douchebag over your real family.”
“I didn’t know.”
Everyone else decided that it was a good time to make themselves scarce and soon it was only you and Daryl in the cell block.
“Do you want to know what he did to me? Your brother and the Governor?”
Daryl said nothing and you took it as your cue to keep talking.
“Your brother held me at gunpoint, threatening my life to make Glenn do what he wanted. He hit me on the head when I tried to get out of his hold. Then, he locked me in a room and tied me to a chair. That’s when I had to hear him beating the shit out of Glenn. Merle sicced a walker on him, Daryl. For a few minutes, I thought that Glenn had died. No sound was coming from that room anymore. That’s when the Governor came into my room.”
“Did he r—“
“Rape me? No. But he came damn close to it. The sick bastard forced me to take my shirt off. Said if I didn’t, he’d bring me Glenn’s hand. He touched me, slammed me down on a table. He pointed a gun at my stomach to make us say what he wanted, knowing I was pregnant. That’s the man your brother took us too. The man he’s friends with.”
“They ain’t friends no more, [y/n].”
“Doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. “You still decided to leave with him, Daryl.”
“And I realized that I chose wrong. I came back.” There was a desperation in Daryl’s voice that you had never heard and you looked into his eyes.
“You’re right. You came back. But the trust that we’ve built up is gone. It’s gonna take a lot to get it back to where it was.”
---
The next day, you got a surprise visit from someone you thought you’d never see again. Andrea. When Carl had come into the cell block and announced that Andrea was here, you furrowed your eyebrows.
“Andrea? She’s alive?” You asked.
“Apparently,” Rick said.
Everyone got guns ready and you watched as your brothers followed Rick and Daryl outside. You went onto the catwalk with Glenn and Carol, rifle at the ready. Andrea was leading a walker by the throat and you felt no pity for her when Rick held her against the fence and checked her for weapons.
Tearing your eyes away from her, you scanned the tree line, looking to see if she was alone or not. You saw nothing out of the ordinary and when you saw nothing, you walked back inside with Carol, Glenn close behind.
You stayed up on the second level while Andrea was reconnecting with everyone. You were glad to see her alive, but something about her felt off.
“Where’s Shane?” She asked. Rick shook his head and Andrea asked, “And Lori?”
“Lori didn’t make it. She had a girl,” Hershel said.
“Neither did T-Dog,” Maggie said.
“I’m so sorry.” She looked at Carl with pity on her face. Carl hung his head and Dean squeezed his shoulder. When she tried to talk to Rick, he backed up slightly and Andrea thought it might be good to change the subject.
“You all live here?” She asked.
“Here and the cell block,” Glenn said.
“There? Can I see?” Andrea went to walk inside but Rick and Sam got in her way.
“I can’t allow that,” Rick said quietly.
“I’m not the enemy, Rick.”
“We had that field and courtyard completely clear until your boyfriend tore down the fence and shot us up.”
“You’re the Governor’s girlfriend?” Dean said, voice sharp. He looked at Rick. “Why is she still here?”
“Why would I not be here?” Andrea said, looking at Dean with a confused look.
“Well, let’s see. Your boyfriend assaulted me, tried to kill Daryl, and shot up our home,” you said.
“Assaulted?” Andrea shook her head. “No way. He wouldn’t do that.”
“You keep telling yourself that, honey,” you said with a cold laugh. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.”
Andrea just glared at you and turned her attention back to Rick.
“He said you fired first.” Andrea said, ignoring you and you rolled your eyes.
“He’s lying,” Rick said.
“He killed two inmates who survived here and shot Sophia,” Hershel said.
“We liked those inmates. They was part of this group,” Daryl said. “And [y/n] ain’t lyin’.”
“I didn’t know anything about that. Any of it. I came as soon as I found out.” She turned and looked at everyone. “I didn’t even know that it was you in Woodbury until after the shootout.”
“That was days ago,” Glenn said.
“I told you, I came as soon as I could.”
No one said a word and Andrea whipped around to face Michonne.
“What have you told them?” Andrea accused.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t get it. I left Atlanta with you guys and now I’m the odd one out?”
“He almost killed Michonne and he would have killed us,” Dean said. “My little sister and Glenn were almost executed on his orders.”
“With his finger on the trigger!” Andrea pointed at Merle. She turned to Glenn. “Isn’t he the one who kidnapped you? Beat you?”
“At least it wasn’t my boyfriend who assaulted someone, almost killed two innocent people, and had one of his men shoot a child,” you said. Andrea looked up at you to see you casually leaning against the wall, rifle in hand.
“Look, I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am here to bring us all together. We have to work this out.”
You snorted and she sent you glare.
“There’s nothing to work out because we’re gonna kill him,” Rick said. “I don’t know how or when, but we will.”
“We can settle this. There’s room for you all at Woodbury.”
“Ya know better than that,” Merle said.
“For once, I agree with the douchebag,” you said. Sam choked back a laugh and you cracked a smile.
“What makes you think he wants to negotiate?” Hershel asked Andrea.
“Did he say that?” Sam asked.
“No. He didn’t.” Andrea shook her head. You rolled your eyes.
“Then why’d you come?”
“He’s gearing up for war,” Andrea said as she looked at Rick. “The people are terrified, they see you as killers. They’re training to attack.”
“Tell ya what. Next time ya see Philip, tell him I’m gonna take his other eye,” Daryl growled.
“We’ve taken too much shit for far too long. He wants a war? Then he’s got one,” Glenn said.
“Rick, if you don’t sit down and try to work this out, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Andrea said, trying to stop the fighting.
“No matter what, people are gonna die,” you said.
“You’ve lost so much already, you can’t be alone anymore.”
“You wanna make this right? Get us inside,” Rick said.
“No.”
“Then we got nothing to talk about.” Rick walked back into the cell block, not listening to Andrea trying to keep him there.
“There’s innocent people!” She called after him.
“There’s innocent people in both parties,” Carol said.
“They have kids, we have kids. They also have people who don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want. All we want is to be left alone but your boyfriend is crazy,” you said, walking down the stairs. “He’s not going to leave us alone and he’s going to keep trying to kill us. To keep my family safe, to keep these kids from dying, I will do anything I need to do.”
You were now almost two feet away from Andrea.
“Now you need to make a choice. Help the people you’ve gone through so much with? The people that consider you part of their family? Or help the man you’re just fucking to feel something. Your choice.” Giving her a salute, you turned on your heel and walked into the cell block.
---
When Andrea was finally leaving, you were up on the catwalk with Hershel, Adeline hiding behind you. Andrea had waved bye to Adeline, but she just gripped your hand and hid herself behind your legs. Andrea’s face had fallen but you didn’t care. Adeline might be young, but she was smart enough to realize that Andrea was on the wrong side and didn’t like her for it.
You could barely hear what they were saying below you, but you didn’t care anyways. Andrea gave you bad vibes and you knew the rest of your group, they felt it too.
You had heard what Carol had suggested she do and you already knew she didn’t have the guts to do it. Watching as she took off in the car Rick gave her, you shook your head and walked back inside, Adeline trailing behind you.
For the rest of the day, you opted to stay inside your cell with your daughter instead of hanging around with everyone else. You could hear Beth singing when night fell and the sounds washed over you. Closing your eyes, you fell asleep to her voice.
#New World#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead x reader#reader insert#The Walking Dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead fanfiction#daryl x reader#twd
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Run run run....
Table of Contents
Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1
Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️
Going Dark - Part 2
John "Soap" MacTavish
London, United Kingdom
Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.
So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.
With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.
"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.
They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick.
He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.
"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling.
"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.
He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.
That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy.
The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.
"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.
He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.
"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.
"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.
"What's he doing there?" Soap added.
"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.
"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.
"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.
"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.
"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.
"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.
And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.
~
"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.
"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound.
"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.
"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.
"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.
"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.
"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence.
Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.
"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.
"Where to?" He asked.
"I know a place." Soap said.
TRAIN STATION
It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently.
Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.
"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.
"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.
The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.
"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.
"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.
"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.
"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.
"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.
"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.
"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine."
"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.
GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past. The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.
"I don't see anything nearby, are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.
"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.
As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.
"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.
"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.
Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.
The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.
"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder.
"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.
"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.
His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.
Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.
"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.
"Hey. It's me." he replied.
"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.
"It's John."
"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.
"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.
"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.
"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.
"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.
"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.
"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.
Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3
Notification Squad my Beloved
@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach
#horrayfic#codmw#john soap mactavish#john price#simon ghost riley#alex echo 3 1#gary roach sanderson#whateverittakes
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The Worries of a Mother
A/N: I neeeeeeeeed dad!Geralt in my life okay. Also don’t give me shit because Geralt is sterile. I know he is, I just chose to ignore it for this. You can fight me if you don’t like it. Requests are open:)
You hummed softly to yourself as you moved about the kitchen. You looked up to gaze out of the window in the kitchen. You could see your son, Bram, playing in the front yard with a few other kids.
He was adjusting well to the new village. You’d just recently moved in to your home after being forced out of your previous town by angry villagers. They believed your husband, a witcher, had stolen from them.
Something rubbed against your legs. You looked down to see your house cat rubbing against you, purring loudly. You knelt down to pet the cat. Just as you made contact with its fur, there was a loud knock at the front door.
You stood up and looked back to the window you’d seen your son through just a few moments ago. He was nowhere to be seen.
You went to the door and pulled it open to see a group of men. A few of them were looking across your yard. You followed his gaze and found that they were looking at Bram playing with the other kids. You immediately felt uneasy.
“Hello, gentlemen. What can I do for you?” You put on a friendly smile.
“Lars Van Dijick.” The man closest to you held his hand out. “I own the tavern just down the road. You are?”
“Y/N.” You shook his hand.
“Y/N. What a stunning name for such a beautiful woman.” Lars looked pass you, eyeing the inside of your home. “Is there a mister that I could speak to?”
“He’s busy at the moment. You can speak with me though.” You offered a little stiffly.
Lars looked at you, obviously a little shocked that you’d decline his desire to speak to your husband. He cleared his throat and nodded his head.
“Very well. Your boy….” He trailed off, turning to look at your son. “Has he got something wrong with him?”
You locked your jaw and fought the urge to immediately curse the man out. Bram did stand out in a crowd. Even if he was the normal size of a child his age, he had hair so blonde it was nearly white. But being that his hair was oddly colored and he was smaller than every other child his age, he was often subjected to bullying.
“I am surprised you’d ask me that so bluntly, good sir. You don’t know me.”
“He’s just asking ‘cause we don’t want our kids effected by your offspring.” A second man spoke.
The heat in your veins rose and bubbled. Your fingers curled into right fists by your sides.
The sound of a floorboard behind you creaking told you that your husband was making himself known. You could feel his presence behind you, massive and towering.
“Is everything alright, dove?” His low, husky voice calmed you down a little. You turned your head to look up at Geralt of Rivia. His hand slipped around your shoulders, comforting you. He could feel your distress and frustration rolling off of you in waves.
“We were just having a conversation with her.” Lars clearly was uncomfortable at the sight of the witcher.
“I believe I heard you say you’d like to speak to me.” Geralt gently ushered you to the side. You got the hint and moved to stand behind him, peaking around his large bicep so you could watch the men. “Now’s your chance.”
Lars fell silent, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“We don’t welcome your kind here.” One of the men towards the back spoke up. Geralt’s darkened amber eyes flickered to that man. “You’re nothing but bad news.”
“I will be if you insult my son once more.” He practically spoke through his teeth. “If you don’t want your bastard children playing with him, then keep them the fuck away from my home.”
The group disbanded, clearly losing whatever courage they thought they had.
Your husband glared at the men until they were out of your yard, closing the fence behind themselves.
You placed your hand on his bicep, rubbing his arm.
“You think they’ll do anything?” You asked him quietly.
“If they know what’s best for them, they wouldn’t.” Geralt let out a soft sigh. You rested your cheek against his arm, your fingers brushing over his bare forearm. The sleeves to the tunic he wore were pushed up to his elbows.
You looked to your son, who was happy and content playing with the other children.
“I only hope that the locals warm up to him.”
You said nothing in reply.
“It’s me they should be repulsed by.”
“They aren’t repulsed by him, love.” You shook your head softly. “They’re just curious. He…. He is different but different isn’t bad. He’s just like his father.” You kissed his arm. He hummed. “You’ll keep an eye on him while I finish up in the kitchen?”
He nodded once. You moved around to stand in front of him. You cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb across the corner of his lips. This took his attention away from your son for a moment. He looked down at you, a warm smile coming to his lips.
You could sense his agitation. He was irritated with everyone, with how they treated his son. He carried such an immense amount of guilt just because he thought he was the reason Bram was different.
You placed your free hand on his chest, rubbing soothing circles against the material of his shirt with your thumb.
“I love you.”
“I love you more.” He dipped his head down to seal a kiss on your lips.
You softly patted his chest, glancing over your shoulder to look at your son one last time before you disappeared into the house.
***
The sun was beginning to go down. It was time for Bram to come inside for dinner.
You made your way towards the front door. Geralt had gone to the barn out in the backyard where your horses were kept. You knew he liked to spend time with Roach when negative thoughts brewed inside his head.
You stepped out of the house, pulling the door shut behind you. Your eyes flickered around the front yard in search of your son and the kids he’d been playing with. The sticks they were using as swords were on the ground, almost as if they’d dropped them.
Your heart started to beat a little faster as you flooded with concern. Every time Bram was out of your sight, you could feel the butterflies in your stomach, tormenting you. The thought of anything happening to your precious child made you sick.
“Bram!” You called his name, taking a few steps down the cobble path that led to the main road resting just across the front yard.
He didn’t respond. That was very unlike him. He always answered you when you called. It was also very unlike him to leave the front yard without letting you know.
Maybe he was around back with Geralt.
***
You moved quickly, needing reassurance that your son was safe. The barn door was open.
“Geralt!” You didn’t mean to sound so frantic.
Sensing your panic, he left Roach’s side and moved towards you.
“Have you seen Bram?”
He didn’t answer you but a look of concern washed over his features.
“Oh gods-,”
“Don’t do that.” He cut you off, closing the space between you two. His hand cradled the side of your head while he looked behind you out into the field that rested outside of the barn doors. “He’s going to be okay.”
Tears were already forming in your eyes, blurring your vision. You brought your hand up to hold Geralt’s bicep, your fingers unintentionally digging into his arm.
“What if those men-What if they did something to him?”
Geralt said nothing to you at first. He just gazed down at you with those golden eyes you loved so much. He dipped his head down to kiss your forehead firmly.
“Go back to the house. I’ll find him.”
“I want to help you.”
“No, you need to stay home in case he returns.” He let you go and moved to fetch Roach.
Just as you were leaving the barn, you heard a scream come from the woods that rested beyond your backyard.
You looked over your shoulder to your husband. He took off in a sprint out of the barn, heading in the direction of the noise. You followed, though you were slower than him.
***
When you caught up to Geralt, he was leaning against a tree, his eyes focused on something ahead. Breathing heavy, you moved to stand next to him.
There was a creek not too far from where Geralt stood. On the other side of the creek was your son. He and the other children he’d been playing with were playing in the mud. Your son’s white hair was patched dark brown with mud and his clothes were covered in the same substance.
Bram was the first to look up. A bright smile crossed his lips as he saw you two looking down at him.
“Hi!” He waved his dirty fingers at you two.
Geralt gave him a soft smile and nodded.
“Come along, Bram.” You called for him, needing him closer to you. Worry and anxiety still swirled in your stomach. You always carried a fear that someone would do something to your boy simply because he was different or for who his father was. “You need to get washed up before dinner.”
Bram stood from the mud puddle he’d been playing in and moved carefully through the creek. He slipped on a rock and stumbled a little but he managed to catch his footing.
You saw Geralt flinch like he’d fly to your son’s side and rescue him from the gentle waters of the creek should he fall. You placed your hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.
As Bram approached you, you held your hands out to pick him up.
“But mommy! I’m dirty!”
“I don’t mind, love.” You smiled at him. You picked him up and hugged him tightly.
“Mommy! You’re squeezing me!”
You released him and settled with holding him on your hip. Geralt followed behind you as you made your way back through the woods towards the house.
“Did you have fun today?” Geralt asked Bram.
“Yes! The kids are nicer here than the ones at our other home.”
You smiled, content with having your messy son in your arms and your husband walking alongside you.
Geralt placed his hand on your back. You turned your head to look at him. The corners of his lips turned up in a smile.
Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @stretchkingblog97 @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @bitterstar88 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @ayamenimthiriel @romancebibliophilia
#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia x reader#the witcher#the witcher netflix#oneshot#dad!geralt#dad geralt
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“The Bowman’s Sister” Part 1 of 4 - Daryl & Sister!Reader
GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/20IqJ25
PART II PART III PART IV
Word Count: 5231
Daryl Dixon & Sister! Reader (possible rick x reader in future)
Summary: You are Daryl and Merle’s sister. You had been with your fiance and daughter when the turn happened. After losing them, you made your way through the world trying to survive. When you come upon a prison and man in cowboy boots, your brother may be closer than you think.
Warning: swearing, mention of death, mention of past rape and abuse
Song I Wrote To: “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron
Note: this could potentially move into more parts, but for now here we go!
(Y/N): your name
(Y/E/C): your eye color
(Y/N/N): your nickname
------
The dark forest was quiet as you moved through the thick brush.
Blood stained your hands and was soaked into your hair, but you were still alive and the new cruel world hadn’t won yet. You didn’t know where you were, but as long as the bastards who had gone for you while you slept were long gone, then all was good.
At least for now.
The cold air was not friendly as it seeped into your bones and surrounded you. You had lost your warm jacket to a pack of Dead when they had grabbed at you, tearing through the warm material. You had managed to stick an arrow in two of them before taking off in a sprint, leaving your only source of warmth behind.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep at a time. When you were able to, you found a sturdy tree and strapped yourself down high up in the branches with a bungee cord, but even that had its faults. The Dead could still smell you and would circle the tree, causing more and more to converge on your hiding place. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it was all that you had and it was better than being beaten and raped by passing groups or having to relive the nightmares that lived in your head.
As long as you focused on surviving and kept distracted, your emotions wouldn’t overwhelm you and you may just survive the new world.
The sound of running water reached your ears and you nearly wept at the sound. You had run out of water yesterday and even if everything else was going to shit, the world let you have this. It was something.
You picked your way through the woods, keeping an arrow notched on your bow just in case. You found the stream not much further down the path and wasted no time in kneeling down by the bank and gulping down a handful of cool running water. Boiling it be damned, you thought.
After you had drunk your fill, you pulled your bottle from your pack and filled it to the brim. You then dunked your head into the water, trying to scrub the blood that stuck to your hair. You weren’t even sure if it was your own, your assailants, or the Dead’s blood. You decided that you really didn’t care.
You were so wrapped up in trying to feel human again that you didn’t hear the person sneaking up on you until the hammer of the revolver was pulled back. Your hands went to your bow, but their voice made you pause.
“Don’t even think about it,” a gruff voice said and the deepness of it made you shiver. It was never good when a man snuck up on you. “Hands where I can see them.” Slowly, not seeing another option, you raised your hands and turned to him, keeping your eyes lowered. His worn leather cowboy boots came into your view and as you lifted your (Y/E/C) eyes, he lifted the barrel of his revolver.
The man before you was tall, his hair was curled around the nape of his neck, and a brush of stubble was across his cheeks. The look in his eyes was deadly and it made you swallow thickly. You had managed to evade strangers for a while now, the ones you had been running from had been a fluke. A couple of men traveling that had come across you. You figured they had given up on you and continued on their way hoping for a new victim.
However, this man could be worse and that was offering no comfort to you. Your eyes flicked between the gun and the boots, trying to gauge your chances of escaping without a hole in your head.
“Please,” you said quietly, “take whatever you want.” You then steeled yourself and pushed to standing slowly and faced down the man with the gun. “But if you try to lay a hand on me, I will kill you. Even if I have to come back and tear you apart with my teeth.” You let your threat settle between them and the man lowered his gun slightly, but didn’t drop it.
“Was that a threat?” He asked.
“More like a promise,” you answered. You moved to grab your bow, but the revolver moved back into place instantly. “Asshole,” you bit out. He narrowed his eyes at you and took a step forward, but then a voice called out.
“Rick, stop!” You started at the voice and hole opened up in your chest. It sounded like… No, you wouldn’t let yourself think about him again. Not after the many times you had thought you heard the voice of your brother.
A figure came through the trees, still cloaked in darkness and you took a step back, tripping on a root, sending you down to the forest floor.
“Rick!” The voice said again and your heart thudded in your chest. It nearly stopped as the figure stepped into the light of the moon. “Oh my god.” You didn’t say anything as you beheld the man that stared down at you, his eyes wide.
Tears immediately started falling and you didn’t care if the man with the gun was there. “Daryl…?” You choked out and then he fell to his knees next to you. “Daryl!” You cried as you looped your arms around your younger brother.
You had finally found him.
----
Daryl clutched his sister to him, nearly crushing you into his chest. He smoothed his calloused hands over your hair, breathing in the smell of you and feeling the vibrations that went through you as you cried. “(Y/N),” he sighed, holding you tighter.
----
You pulled back, your hands going to his face, brushing the hair from his cheeks. “I thought you were dead,” you said, looking into his eyes, the eyes of your mother.
“Ya know it takes a lot more than an apocalypse to kill me,” he said in his low accent and hearing that deep Georgian accent was like coming home.
“Daryl,” the man, Rick, said. “Who is this?” Daryl looked back over his shoulder and his form went rigid.
“Put the damn gun down, Rick. Point that thing someplace else, will ya?” Rick looked at Daryl for a moment before holstering his weapon. Daryl then gripped your arms and helped you up. “It’s okay, yer okay now,” he said in your ear. Keeping an arm around you, Daryl turned to Rick.
“Rick, this (Y/N), my sister,” Daryl said and Rick’s face turned from concerned to surprised.
Rick didn’t say anything as Daryl shouldered your pack and handed you back your weapon, smiling slightly at the sight of your mother’s old bow.
“It was in the garage,” you told him, “figured nobody was comin’ for it.”
“Glad you took it,” Daryl said, adjusting his crossbow on his arm. “You were always better with it than Merle.” That made you stop.
“Is he…?” You trailed off, not willing to ask the question.
“Merle’s dead,” Daryl said and something about his face told you not to push the issue, at least not yet. You could tell that he wanted to ask questions of his own, but he also wanted to get out of the woods.
“Where are we goin’?” You asked, trying to keep up with the men who had much longer legs than you.
“We have a place,” Daryl said, “you’ll be safe there.”
“Daryl…” Rick said, his voice full of warning.
“Just...wait, Rick. Alright? Let me get her some place warm and then we’ll start askin’ the questions.”
“What questions?” You asked, through shivering teeth.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Daryl said, tugging you along further. A few more moments and a large chain link fence came into view.
Along with a large group of the Dead.
Your footsteps faltered as you beheld the sight, reaching for your weapon.
“S’alright,” Daryl said to you and then he took a flashlight from his belt and flashed it twice. A second later, a light from what looked like a tower, mimicked the movement. Suddenly, there were shouts.
“Hey! Over here!”
“Come on and get us!”
“Hey!”
The shouts just kept coming and more voices joined in. Just how many people were here, you wondered. Daryl and Rick lead you towards a large metal gate. The Dead were too preoccupied by the new waves of noise that they managed to get onto the gravel road without incident. Still, Daryl kept his crossbow in front of him and Rick kept his hand on his gun.
You were between both men as they approached the gate. Then the large gate rattled open and a young boy in a sheriff’s hat ushered you inside, slamming the gate behind the three of you. As soon as the latch was secured, Daryl relaxed and then finally looked you over, taking in your face. The look in your eyes and the way you carried yourself was a lot like your older brother, but so much was strictly you and it nearly brought tears to his eyes.
“Who’s this?” The kid in the hat asked.
“Daryl’s sister, apparently,” Rick said as he stared between you and Daryl.
“I’m Carl,” the kid said, waving awkwardly. You nodded to the kid, noticing the gun on his belt.
“Let’s get inside before we freeze to death,” Daryl grumbled as he led you through the yard and toward a large building. As you looked around, it finally clicked as to what this place was.
“You live in a prison?” You gasped.
“It has fences and beds,” Rick said as he strode next to you . “We’ve made it home.” You nodded, taking in the sights around you, but you couldn’t shake the sounds of the Dead just down the small hill. You kept your eyes forward, tightening your grip on your brother.
The four of you stepped through another gate and headed for a large cell block. As soon as the metal door closed behind you, the sounds of the Dead were drowned out and you let out a breath. “Come on,” Daryl said, pulling you further into the building.
He took you into an area with a few tables and beyond that you saw a few people looking at you through a gate that you were sure was locked.
Carl went over and stood by the door, his hand on his gun. Daryl took your bow from you and set it gently on the table and then helped you with the quiver on your back, careful not to brush up against any of the fresh scrapes and bruises he could see on your bare shoulders.
“Beth,” Daryl said to a young blonde girl, “can ya grab me a blanket?” She nodded without having to be asked twice and quickly returned with a wool blanket that you figured was from the prison inventory. Daryl quickly pulled it around your shoulders, rubbing your arms with his large hands. “Yer gonna be okay,” he whispered, taking a seat next to you and looping an arm around your shoulders.
“This is Daryl’s sister,” Rick announced to the others and you got a look at the others in their group. There was Beth and a woman next to her that was keeping a protective watch over the blonde. You figured that was Beth’s sister and an asian man who was holding hands with the woman. Then there was an older woman with short gray hair who stood next to a tall dark skinned woman who had a sword along her back. An older man with one leg sat at the table next to yours and then of course there was Rick and Carl. Judging by the way Rick was standing in front of the kid, you figured Carl was his son.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” the woman with the short hair said, breaking the silence.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Daryl grumbled as he took a piece of your hair and moved it from your face, trying to keep you warm. “She’s my older sister,” Daryl continued, “but younger than Merle.”
“How’d you find us?” Rick asked, clearly not fully comfortable with your sudden appearance. You felt Daryl tighten his grip on you. You reached over and held onto his hand.
“I wasn’t lookin’ for people,” you explained. “In fact, I wasn’t even headin’ this way. I was tryin’ to get more North, but I got turned around when I started running from them.”
“The Walkers?” Rick asked and you looked at him in confusion.
“The Dead,” Daryl clarified.
“Oh, no,” you shook your head, “Yeah, I mean they’ve been around. Pretty big group of them not too far away a couple weeks ago, but no, I was runnin’ from people not...Walkers,” you said, trying out the word.
“People?” The woman next to Beth asked.
“Couple of men who tried…” you trailed off and then shook away the fear that crept up your spine, “A couple of men tried to take me, they had rope and knives, but I managed to cause a distraction. Let out a couple of the Dead from a nearby van and they went for them so I could get away.”
“I would have killed them,” Daryl growled from next to you. You looked at him and nodded slightly.
“I know.” You then looked back to Rick, “I wasn’t planning to stay after I found the stream. If you hadn’t of found me and pointed a gun at me, I would have never known my little brother was here.” Daryl rested his head on your shoulder and you leaned into him.
“(Y/N),” Rick began, “I need to ask you some questions.”
“Rick,” Daryl warned.
“Daryl, I know she’s family, but—”
“It’s fine,” you cut him off, “ask your questions.” Rick looked at you for a moment before nodding.
“How many Walkers you killed?” He asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t keep count. More than two dozen at least?” You offered.
“How many people you kill?” Rick asked next and you felt your heart stutter.
“Three,” you said.
“Why?”
“Two because they tried to kill me and,” you paused, trying to find the courage to finish. You leaned away from your brother and leaned your elbows on your knees. “The third was because he asked me to.”
“Who?” Carl asked, interjecting. Tears pooled in your eyes, but you wouldn’t hide them anymore. It was Daryl that spoke next.
“Carter?” He asked quietly. You looked at him and nodded. “Her fiance,” he clarified for the others. You felt your hands shaking and you knew what his next question would be. “(Y/N), if Carter...if he’s dead,” he paused and the tears began dripping off your chin. “If he’s dead, where’s Hannah?”
Something broke inside you at her name. It wasn’t sadness anymore, it was just hollow. You looked at your brother with a frown, your face wet with tears of guilt. “No,” he whispered as his arm fell away from you, to cradle his own head. “No, no, no,” he said, the anger growing.
“Daryl, I’m sorry,” you said, nearly pleading as you gripped his shoulders. “I took my eyes off of her for thirty seconds. Then the camp was overrun and neither of us could get to her in time. Carter...he saw it happen.” Daryl shook as he listened. He could barely speak so you looked to the confused faces of the prison group. “Hannah was my daughter,” you told them, “she died at the start of all this.” Daryl fell to the floor, leaning back on his hands as he took in the news. His niece, only six years old, was dead, taken by this new world.
“Maggie,” Rick said quietly as he watched his friend slowly fall apart, “can you get (Y/N) some dry clothes and help get her situated?” Maggie, the woman you thought to be Beth’s sister nodded and disappeared through the gate as Carl held it open. “Let’s just give them a moment, everyone,” Rick said and ushered everyone out as you held onto your heartbroken brother and let the grief wash over you both.
Once Daryl had calmed down, you helped him up and he wrapped his arm around your waist and then pulled you in for a hug.
Neither of you said anything as you held each other. You just breathed him in and relished in the feel of family once again.
“Come on,” he said, his voice low, “let’s get some sleep, we can talk more in the morning’.” He took you into the cell block and up the metal staircase and into a cell. Maggie had brought fresh clothes and an extra blanket for you. Daryl pulled the mattress off the top bunk and lay it down on the floor. He then pulled back the blankets of the bottom bunk and gestured for you to lay down. As soon as you settled onto the cot, he lay down on the mattress next to you on the floor, staring up at you.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He shook his head, reaching for your hand. You let your hand fall over the edge of the bed and grab onto his.
“Wasn’t yer fault,” he promised, “don’t you ever think it was, (Y/N). Never.” You nodded at his words. “Get some sleep.” You wanted to stay up, talk to him, but the overwhelming fatigue took you and soon, you fell into the darkness as you held onto Daryl’s hand.
The only family you had left.
----
When you woke up the next morning, you were alone in the cell.
It took you a couple of minutes to wrap your head around everything that had happened. You had found Daryl, you were safe behind fences, you were alive. Those three things were all that mattered as you sat up in the bunk and rubbed the sleep from your tired eyes.
The clothes you were wearing were the ones you had been wearing as you ran through the woods the night before. Peeling off your stiff boots, you changed into the clothes Maggie had gotten for you. You and Maggie were roughly the same size so luckily everything fit well enough. Stuffing your feet back into your boots, you grabbed one of Daryl’s button ups and pulled it on, noticing the prison walls didn’t do much for warmth, but it was better than being in the woods or up in a tree.
The sun was filtering in through the windows near the ceiling and you could hear the other prison residents starting their day.
“Good morning.” You jumped slightly at the sound and turned to see Maggie coming out of a cell at the end of the walkway. “We didn’t officially get to meet last night, I’m Maggie.” She offered you her hand and you took it, pushing up Daryl’s long sleeves.
“(Y/N),” you said, “thanks for clothes,” you said, gesturing to the jeans and tank top.
“Not a problem at all,” she said with a grin and then gestured for you to follow her down stairs. “If you’re looking for Daryl, he’ll be back soon. Michonne found some Walkers down by E Block so she, Rick, Daryl, and my husband, Glenn, went to take care of them. Shouldn’t be long. My sister, Beth, said she saw them take a walkie so if they’re in trouble, we’ll know.”
“Michonne is the woman with the sword?” You asked, already feeling the anxiety rise as you thought about Daryl going after the Dead.
“That’s right,” Maggie said, still cheerful. “She’s a hell of a fighter and from the way your brother fights, I’m assuming so are you.”
“I can shoot,” you said.
“Then it's a good thing we have you now, (Y/N),” Maggie said with a grin. You and her made it down to the lower level. Carl was sitting with Beth as he cleaned his gun. Beth watched on in curiosity. You didn’t know how old Carl was, but it made you feel a bit sad to see the kid with a gun, but this was the way the world was and it was better than becoming a victim.
Maggie sat across from her sister and patted the seat on her other side. You sat down, slowly, fiddling with your sleeves. Beth slid over a container of peaches. “I can never finish a whole can by myself,” she said, “too sweet.”
You looked down at the fruit in the syrup and your mouth watered. It had been weeks since you had anything besides squirrel and canned tomato soup. “Thank you,” you said with a small smile as you dug into the canned fruit.
“So,” Beth continued, causing you to look up, “what was Daryl like as a kid?”
“Beth,” Maggie warned.
“You can’t tell me you’re not curious,” Beth said and then looked back at you with patience. You swallowed another peach.
“Uh, he was like most kids, I guess. Looked out for me, even though I was older, played in the woods, was always runnin’ around being...Daryl,” you said with a light laugh that took you by surprise. It had been so long since you laughed. “He was a good kid and an even better man. I can tell he still is.” Beth smiled and Maggie mirrored her sister, Carl was listening, but not offering any of his own commentary.
“You look like him,” Beth noticed. You laughed again. Maggie then reached out and touched your arm. You looked at her and saw the sorrow in her face.
“I’m very sorry about what happened to your family, (Y/N),” Maggie said sincerely. “We’ve lost people, but I could never imagine what it would be like to lose a child. I’m so sorry.” A wave of...something washed through you and you lay your hand over hers.
“You’re actually the first person to say that to me,” you said after you realized it was the truth. “Thank you.”
“We look out for family here,” Beth said, “and you’re Daryl’s family which means you’re ours now.” Your throat was too thick to speak so you just nodded.
Before anyone else could say something, commotion sparked behind you as two people walked in with grins on their faces. “Victory is mine!” The woman said, her grin lit up her face.
“You found some?” Beth asked, suddenly very excited.
“Hell yeah,” the woman said as she dumped a duffel bag on the table and Maggie looked like she wanted to say something but before she could, the unknown woman unzipped the bag and showed the table what she had found.
Cases of baby formula.
Your blood ran cold.
“Sasha fought off four Walkers for that stash,” the man said, clapping Sasha on the shoulder.
“Shut up, Tyreese, you helped,” Sasha said, shrugging off his hand. He smiled at her and then Tyreese noticed you.
“Who’s this?” Sasha turned to look at you and then looked at Maggie. .
“This is (Y/N), Daryl’s sister, we found her last night,” Maggie explained, but you couldn’t focus on Sasha and Tyreese. All you could do was stare at the formula.
They had a baby here.
“(Y/N),” Beth said, lightly touching your wrist. You looked at her finally. “This is Sasha and her brother, Tyreese.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Tyreese said kindly while Sasha just looked at you, much like how Rick had looked at you the night before.
You tried to speak, but again the words were locked in your throat. Maggie noticed. “Sasha could you go put this with the others,” Maggie asked and then gave Sasha a look that had the other woman hauling the bag off the table and disappearing around the corner.
“Who’s the formula for?” You asked, finding your words.
“My sister,” Carl said, “she’s still working her way up to solid food.” It was then that it clicked. Rick had a daughter. That was why he dispersed everyone so quickly when you and Daryl had your moment.
“Yeah, it can, uh, take some time,” you said roughly, trying to keep a pleasant look on your face. The only thing going through your mind was Hannah’s little hands wrapping around your fingers and the smell of her head after her baths or even the little noises she made when she slept on your chest. It was all coming back to you at once when you had worked hard not to think about your baby.
“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” Maggie asked and you turned to her, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you said, getting to your feet. “I’m just gonna go get some air. That okay?” You asked, still not sure if there were rules here.
“Yeah, the yard is safe, just don't go into any of the far cell blocks,” Maggie said and you nodded. You left the cell block behind as you quickly made your way out into the open air. There were more people here than you expected and then you realized there must have been more people in Cell Block D. You avoided their gazes as you walked through the courtyard, shaking off all the memories that threatened to overtake you. Finding a picnic table, you sat on the top, resting your elbows on your knees as you looked out over the yard.
You could see the Dead as they tried to break through the fences, but a group of four were walking along the chain link and stabbing the Dead through their decaying skulls. The sounds of their groans were nearly deafening even at a distance. It was a sound that would never leave you, even if it all stopped one day, that noise would follow you forever.
You stayed there as the sun rose in the sky, leaving the morning behind as noon approached. You didn’t know how long you were out there until a hand came down on your shoulder. Daryl looked down at you with concern. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey.”
“Maggie said I’d find ya out here,” he said, taking a seat next to you, “she said ya left after Sasha brought home the formula.” You just nodded, keeping your eyes on the yard. “Probably should have warned you about the little one.”
“It’s fine,” you told him. “You didn't know about Hannah.”
“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, “M’sorry we weren’t there to protect ya’ll. I figured because of Carter’s service record that he’d get ya out and then when we tried to get back into the city…”
“There was nothing left,” you finished, remembering the napalm that rained down from the sky.
“Yeah,” he nodded.
“We got out, but it was so chaotic and when we got back to the house, the Dead were everywhere. I managed to get the bow and some clothes and food for Hannah, but then we had to run and we couldn’t get back.” You turned your eyes to him. “I didn’t know if you would make it or if you had Merle with ya. I tried looking for both of you when it happened, but I had Hannah and I…”
“Ya had to keep her safe,” Daryl said.
“And I couldn’t even do that,” you said, wringing your hands.
“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, (Y/N/N),” he said.
“Since when do you call me (Y/N/N)?” You asked.
“Haven’t gotten the chance to in a bit,” he said and you nodded, understanding.
“I’ll work on not feelin’ guilty for Hannah and Carter, if you stop feelin’ guilty too. Deal?” You offered your fist just as you had when you were kids. He nodded and then tapped your fist with his. Then, he reached over and tugged you closer to him, planting a kiss to the side of your head.
“It’s really good to see ya, girl,” he whispered. You leaned into him before pulling back.
“You smell like rotting corpses,” you told him and he grimaced.
“Had to take care of a few Walkers down in E,” Daryl said, “Imma go get a new shirt, you just try and relax for a bit. Yer safe here, (Y/N), don’t forget that.” You nodded and he squeezed your shoulder once before heading off to go get a clean shirt.
After Daryl left, you decided to walk the yard. Slipping through the gate, you meandered through the field, keeping a wide distance between you and the far fences. They had a well groomed garden going as well as some pigs. It seemed that even amongst all the death and chaos, they were doing well. It was enough to lift a bit of the weight off your shoulders.
As you walked through the tall grass, you let your fingers brush against them and felt the warm sun on your neck. You sighed at the feeling, letting the peace swirl around you.
“You know, Beth did the same thing when we first got this place under control.” You turned to see Rick approaching you and in his arms was a beautiful blonde little girl. You stayed where you were as he approached, your eyes on his daughter.
“I can understand the draw,” you said.
“Not everyday you feel some sense of security,” Rick said as he stopped in front of you. “I figured you should meet the remaining member of our little family,” he said. “This is Judith.” Your heart swelled at her name.
“Hello, Judith,” you said with a grin. “Aren’t you just the prettiest rose in the garden?” Judith looked over at you, her hands holding onto her daddy’s shirt. You looked up at Rick. “She’s beautiful.”
“You wanna hold her?” He asked and you went to argue, but he was already moving her from his arms and holding her out to you.
“Oh, okay,” you said as you took the baby and held her against you, feeling the familiar weight of a child in your arms. She reached up and took hold of your nose, her curious eyes roaming your face. “Hi, sweetheart,” you cooed.
“She likes you,” Rick said and you smiled at him. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for last night.”
“For what?” You asked, your brows pulled together.
“I shouldn’t have pointed the gun at you or pressed you with questions, especially after Daryl told us you were his sister.” You bounced Judith slightly as she played with a lock of your hair and turned to Rick again.
“Don’t ever apologize for protecting your family, Rick,” you said sternly. “I would have come in handcuffs if it meant that you felt that your children and your people were safe. You can’t be too careful in this new world, so no apologies necessary. Isn’t that right, Judith?” you said, scrunching your nose at the baby. Rick looked at you and nodded his head.
“I see it now,” he said.
“See what?”
“The Dixon in you,” he explained, “but it’s all Daryl, not Merle.” You snorted and looked up at him, your eyes shining in the sunlight.
“You just haven’t seen the Merle side yet.”
Note: I could definitely add more to this. Requests are open!
#the walking dead#the walking dead imagines#the walking dead imagine#daryl dixon imagine#rick grimes#reader insert#daryl and sister!reader#twd#twd imagine#twd imagines#eventual rick grimes x reader#prison era#walking dead prison#au#dixon!reader
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The Bodyguard pt. 4 (Elorcan)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Surprise at the end ;)
______________________________________________________________
Elide’s leg bounced uncontrollably as she sat at the breakfast table, staring at Lorcan, who just stared back, stern face looking unaffected.
After last night, she felt like things had changed between them. Whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.
She’d kissed him.
And even though he said it was just the adrenaline and shock, deep in her head, she knew that was bullshit. She’d been attracted to him since the first time she’d seen him. Last night she’d only acted on the impulse.
But he hadn’t kissed her back.
He definitely didn’t seem mad about it, but he sure as hell didn’t react like she would have wished. And ever since, it hadn’t exactly been awkward, but it was sure as hell different.
Especially since she’s seen a different side of him when he’d taken care of her. His usually hard exterior had cracked enough to let her in, and it made her feel a little differently about him. In a really, almost disturbingly good way.
“I think we should get out of the city,” Lorcan said, snapping her out of her train of thought.
“And go where?”
He shrugged, but it didn’t look that casual. “I have a cabin. And it has enough security measures to let us know if someone’s coming.”
“Do you think that’s necessary?”
A dark look crossed his face. “Last time you asked me that, it didn’t end up well for either of us.”
She should’ve known he’d bring that up. Asshole. Even if he was right. “But what about my job?”
“Can’t you take a few days off?”
She could, but she never had before. Her schedule for next week was actually pretty blank and devoid of high-risk clients. Elide sighed. “When do we leave?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Her eyes bugged. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth. Or showered. Or packed!”
Lorcan just took a sip of his coffee. “Nineteen minutes.”
Sprinting to the bathroom, she cursed him soundly and flung herself in the shower. When she finally got packed and ready, she went back out to see him check his watch and shake his head. “That was twenty-three minutes, Elide.”
The way he said her name made her smile, even if he was teasing her. “Not all of us get up at five in the morning, Lorcan.”
He gave her a small smile, and she followed him out to the garage. Unsurprisingly, a jet black vintage sports car was in his spot. “Do you recognize you don’t own anything with color in it?”
Lorcan threw their bags in the back, then got in the driver’s seat. “Yes.”
Shaking her head, she got in the dark car’s dark interior and grinned. After turning on some old rock and buckling their seat belts, they were off.
They drove out of the city quietly, getting through traffic surprisingly well.
“How far away is this place?” she asked as he steered them through the suburbs, grimacing at all the white-picket fences they passed.
“About two hours.”
Oh, gods.
What would they talk about for two hours? The only long conversation they’d had was last night, and it wasn’t exactly cheerful. She turned sideways in her seat, studying his profile, and an idea sparked.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Lorcan shot her a curious glance. “As you pointed out, I don’t own anything with color.”
“Just pick one, then.”
“Gray.” She should’ve seen that coming. A smile tugged at her lips as he sighed and asked, “What’s yours?”
Settling deeper into the warm seat, she replied, “Navy. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like back to my apartment. “Are you going to do this the entire time?”
“Do what?” she asked, using a very innocent voice.
She was surprised he could even talk with how deep his scowl was. “Therapy me.”
“Asking your favorite color and dream destination is not therapy, Mr. Salvaterre. I’d expect you to know that after a week of crashing my appointments.” Elide sighed dramatically. “But, yes. I’m going to do this the entire time. It’s my duty to society to therapy you until you give in and tell me everything about you.”
The scowl deepened, but there was a touch of humor in his steely gaze.
~
When a large hand bumped Elide’s shoulder, she shot awake, eyes immediately finding Lorcan’s.
“I fell asleep?”
“Mid question.” His lips twitched. “Started drooling everywhere.”
Her cheeks warmed at the teasing note in his voice, so she avoided dignifying that with a response. “Are we here?”
It seemed like a stupid question, but they were currently in the woods with nothing but trees around them. Lorcan nodded. “We have to walk the rest of the way.”
“And why, exactly, do you have this place?”
He shrugged, grabbing their bags and climbing out of the car. “It’s off the grid.”
Eyebrows high on her forehead, she got out, inhaling the smell of the forest around her. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d gotten real fresh air that wasn’t polluted by chemicals and smog from the city.
Lorcan chose not to breathe deeply and enjoy their surroundings. Shock. He just reached and pulled a deep green and brown tarp over his car.
What the hell was this place? And why was he acting like they were going to war?
“You going to be okay to walk there?”
She nodded.
After a year of PT and a few surgeries on her ankle, she walked normally. It still flared up with pain, and she’d probably be sore after hiking through the woods on such uneven ground, but she wasn’t about to make him carry her plus the bags.
Lorcan nodded, too. “It isn’t far.”
About thirty minutes and multiple breaks later, Elide was wondering what the hell far would look like to this man. He strode through the forest, glaring at the plants and greenery around him if they dared to get in his way.
Elide, on the other hand, struggled to keep up and was practically gasping for air as a small, wooden cabin finally came into view.
“Oh, bless all that’s holy,” she cried. “We’re here.”
Lorcan glanced down at her, amusement and a twinge of concern on his face. He wasn’t even sweating, the insufferable bastard. “Are you alright?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she wheezed.
“Stay here for a minute,” he commanded, then strode towards the house, taking a very specific route.
In fact, they’d done that the entire way here. He’d ordered her not to step certain places, touch certain trees, and a ton of other bizarre things she’d written off as coincidence.
He disappeared inside the house for a minute, then a soft click sounded around her.
“You’re good,” he called out.
Eyes narrowing, she walked up the creaky stairs of the house and inside. It was a little dusty, but everything seemed to be in working condition. “What was that all about?”
“Security measures.”
Vague. Unless... “Oh my gods, are there bombs under the ground?”
He gave her a wolfish smile as he nodded. “And pressure sensors to alert me if there’s anyone out there. And cameras. And trip wires.”
“And I’m guessing all the stairs and floorboards creak.”
He looked a little impressed. “They do. We’re safe here.”
“Seems so.”
“You can have the room upstairs; I’ll stay down here. It’s up and to the right.”
Elide nodded, going up the very creaky stairs to find a small bedroom with furniture somehow even simpler than what he had in his apartment. A bathroom was attached, and she was ridiculously sweaty after their hike, so she got in, happily surprised when the water was clear and hot.
When she’d wasted enough time in there, she got out and put on a large, floppy shirt and leggings.
She went back downstairs to find Lorcan in the kitchen, pulling out cans and preserves and setting them on the counter. “We have enough food for two weeks.”
Two weeks? She couldn’t stay here for two weeks.
She told herself it was because she didn’t want to miss work, not because she didn’t trust herself around her housemate. Two weeks alone with Lorcan, in the middle of nowhere... Elide was sure she’d do something to embarrass herself.
Like kiss him again.
Pushing that thought away, she slid on the leather sofa and pulled her foot in her lap to rub her ankle. It didn’t hurt, but it would be tight as hell tomorrow if she didn’t massage it a little.
Suddenly the couch dipped and Lorcan settled on the opposite side. He looked her over, then waved a hand. Surprised, she swung her leg over and put her feet on his lap.
Elide made a small noise as his thumbs started to massage her ankle, and she blushed as he looked up at her. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, suddenly unable to talk with his hands on her.
The memory of their kiss drifted through her mind. He’d been so stoic when she brushed her lips over his, and it had happened so quickly she wondered if she’d made it all up. But afterward, when he’d kissed her scar... that had been anything but stoic.
His dark eyes were on her, and she could tell he was thinking about last night, too. Maybe she wasn’t crazy.
His hands stilled, so she moved to pull her leg back, but he shook his head and held them on his lap. “Elide.”
He’d only said her name, but her breathing started coming faster.
Lorcan leaned closer, and she realized with a start she was moving towards him, too. Their lips touched, just as softly as the first time. “Elide.”
She kissed him again, just the barest brush of her lips against his. “Lorcan.”
And for the first time since she’d met him, he smiled.
It was a big, beautiful smile she doubted anyone saw frequently, and it made her want to kiss him again. So she did.
He leaned forward until she was tucked under him, his big body pressed against hers. And just like the other times he’d been like this, she could feel every part of him against her.
But this time, she felt it with her hands, too.
They drifted over his shoulders, down his back, across his abs. She smiled as the muscles constricted under her touch, and he took the kiss deeper, his tongue coming to meet hers.
She moaned softly into his mouth, hands finding their way into his dark hair and pulling it out of its usual bun, finding it surprisingly soft.
His hands were on her face, cradling her softly, but moved down her shoulders and sides, thumbs barely brushing the sides of her breasts. Elide arched into his touch, but he kept it light, almost teasing.
Until he gripped one of her thighs and pulled it around his hips, settling in between them and pressing himself against her.
A gasp escaped her at how just that little moment of contact had sent tingles over her entire body.
Lorcan kissed across her jaw, down her throat, stopping to suck at certain places. She’d never imagined she’d do anything like this. Had always figured she wasn’t capable of feeling lust after everything that had happened to her.
And now her body was very politely telling her how wrong she’d been.
She was on fire underneath him, burning with something she’d never felt before. Lust was unfurling inside her, and she wanted every part of him.
But as his hands drifted under her t-shirt, fingertips meeting the soft skin of her stomach, she pulled back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, eyes finding hers.
She looked down, suddenly embarrassed. “I, um.. I have a lot of scars.”
Gripping her chin softly, Lorcan brought her gaze to meet his, and his features were filled with understanding. “So do I.”
It was such a simple statement, but it meant everything to her. He’d been through unspeakable things, just like her. But he wasn’t ashamed. And... she shouldn’t be either.
So she nodded, reached down, and pulled her shirt over her head.
His dark eyes drifted over her, taking in her curves, the plain bra covering them. The scars. His expression never once showed anything but desire.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her softly. “And I’m going to fucking prove it to you.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but figured out his intentions quickly as he leaned down to brush his lips over her shoulder where a thin white scar rested.
He took his time kissing it, then moved down her arm to another imperfection.
And another, then another after that.
Until she couldn’t remember why she hated them, why she’d been embarrassed. He was worshiping them, silently telling her everything she’d ever wanted to hear.
Then his hands slipped behind her back and unhooked her bra, and he worshiped her there, too.
She squirmed underneath him, making an embarrassing amount of noises, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Especially as he reached to pull the waistband of her leggings down just enough to expose the brand.
Just like the night before, Lorcan leaned in and brushed a kiss over the mark.
Then he kissed his way back up to her mouth and whispered, “Beautiful.”
She opened her mouth for him, and his tongue swept in. His hands went back to her waist, thumbs slipping in her leggings to start pulling them down.
He stopped abruptly when a soft clicking noise sounded. Lorcan was on his feet in an instant, stooping to pick a device up off the floor and grimacing.
“Get dressed,” he growled, tossing her bra and shirt on her stomach very romantically.
Elide threw her clothes on, getting up to walk over to where he was looking out the window, device in hand. “What’s wrong?”
His tense shoulders and set jaw told her it wasn’t good, but she wasn’t prepared at all for what she saw as she looked at the screen.
She could make out a dark square with two blue dots--she assumed those represented the two of them in the house--in the middle of the woods. But what she wasn’t ready to see were the multiple red dots surrounding the place.
There were at least fifteen of them, flickering to show they were getting closer.
Lorcan looked down at the device, a cold, dark look coming over his features. “We’ve got company.”
______________________________________________________________
Today, ladies and gentlemen, is a special occassion: it’s @maastrash ‘s birthday! And for her birthday surprise... here’s part 5.
@bamchickawowow @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @ladywitchling @sjmships @superspiritfestival @stardelia @keshavomit @illyrianwitchling13 @lord-douglas-the-third @blackjacks-donuts @hufflebird89 @sensitiveillyrian @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @towhateverend17 @empress-ofbloodshed @dottieadot @idontlikekale @se-ono-waise-ilia @tswaney17 @jlinez @wineywitch202 @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
#elorcan#elorcan fanfiction#lorcan#lorcan lochan#lorcan salvaterre#elide lochan#elide#elide x lorcan#tog#tog fanfiction#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#sjm#sara j maas
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