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andreafmn · 4 years ago

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Collision - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,821

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: Don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but the story takes place before New Moon but after Twilight. It starts at the end of May after the dance, so it’d be the summer before Bella’s birthday in September. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 4

The next time she awoke she was back in sight of the blinding hospital lights. Her head was heavily pounding and the clothes on her body felt alien to her. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the white lights of the sanitized room, but they were suddenly off.

“Back again, Miss Uley?” She recognized the voice, Dr. Cullen. “I’ve already turned the lights off so don’t worry about that.”

Her eyes finally opened to reveal the smooth pale face of the doctor. A wave of calmness rushed over her as soon as her eyes connected with his golden ones.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been having a recurring headache, insomnia, memory lapses, and a lack of appetite. It looks like post-concussive syndrome. Your mom told us you were feeling like this for a few days, why didn’t you come back?” Carlisle questioned. He was trying his best to look like he was breathing but if he took even a single breath all his years of self-control would be over in an instant.

“I thought if I could just make it to at least seven days it could clear me from coming back to the hospital, at least as a patient.”

“What do you mean?” This comment had perked the interest of the man. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could analyze them.

“I was thinking of applying for a medical assistant job here in the hospital. I recently got my degree in biology, and I’ve been thinking of going to medical school after.”

“That sounds like a plan, but let’s work on getting you better first.” It did sound like a good plan to Carlisle. He wanted to be as close as possible to her every single day, but it also meant he would have to work triple as hard to control his thirst. “We’d like to keep you for the next few days and make sure you’re in good health before you can go back to business as usual.”

“How long would a few days be?”

“About four to five days, just to make sure that the symptoms don’t worsen, and we can give you an all-clear.” It would also give him a few days to grow accustomed to her smell. “We can work over that application for medical assistant, make sure it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She smiled at the man in front of her, her heart fluttering with every breath she took. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he smiled. “Now, why don’t you continue resting, and whatever you need just call. My office is right down the hall, I’ll be here in no time.”

The girl stared at the retreating form of his body and covered the heat that was rising to her face with her pillow. The butterflies in her stomach had made her uneasy and had her hands shaking. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. It had only been a week since her first encounter with the doctor, but those few seconds were enough to have her drooling over the man like a lovesick schoolgirl.

A few days had come and gone quickly. (Y/N) had grown attached to Carlisle, seeing and talking to him every day had felt like a dream. In his free time, she would go over to his office and pick a book to read, which they talked about the next day. They spent hours talking about nothing and everything.

It had been a long time since Carlisle had felt this way, centuries. Being around her had gotten easier each day that passed. Her smell becoming comforting instead of a trigger to the endless hunger for human blood – he’d never had a simple drop of it, but nothing could explain how much he wanted to have hers. Getting to know her had been a welcomed activity by the young doctor. He could spend days upon days listening to the sweet sound of her voice, admiring her curious-filled face when she started a new book – which she read swiftly, taking only a couple of hours to finish most of them.

“Can’t believe you have so many first editions, and you leave them at work.” She ran her hand across the spine of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. “I would keep them in a well-preserved chamber, and no one would be able to even breathe on them.”

Carlisle smiled as the girl gawked once again at his book collection. It wasn’t hard to acquire first edition novels when you were alive when they were published. “If you’re impressed by this collection, you’d be completely astonished by the one I have back home.”

“You have more?!” He nodded. The girl shined like a kid on Christmas, her eyes gleaming at the thought of a big library. “Oh, that sounds like a dream.”

“You’re more than welcome to come over any time. It’s always refreshing to meet a literature aficionado such as myself.”

“Really? That’d be amazing!” She grinned brightly. “I could spend all day reading, forget about work.”

The duo laughed. “Too late to withdraw the application but you’re always welcome to pass your downtime in my office.”

“Sounds like a plan,’’ she smiled. “Now, doctor, what will you ever do now that I’m not going to be here every day?”

“Oh, how will I ever go on?” He chuckled. “But if you ever need help during that time, just come by. My office is always open. And hopefully, you’ll visit from time to time on personal time.”

“I’m sure it’s something that can be arranged.”

If there was still blood rushing through his veins, the capillaries in his face would have widened. He felt like he now understood Edward; how being with her made him feel human again. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to take their friendship to another level, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same. Carlisle knew that she was unaware of the supernatural since (Y/N) had allowed him to be in her life. But what would happen once she knew everything? How could he ever come between her and her family?

“Miss Uley, your mother is here,” a nurse spoke up, peeking her head through the office door. “Discharge papers have already been filed.”

“Thank you, Nurse Dalen. She’ll be out in a moment.” Carlisle smiled.

“Well, the time has come.” (Y/N) took her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to the doctor. He looked at her with a question-ridden gaze. “I’m gonna need your phone number so we can arrange any future endeavors.”

“Right,” he laughed, typing his number into her directory. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“I’ll be making it soon enough,” she grinned. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you around, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you, Uley.”

She left the office with a huge smile on her face, holding her phone close to her chest. For the first time, she was experiencing something she had heard of most of her teenage years. Once she had met Carlisle all she wanted to do was get to know him better, spend her time with him, just being near him would suffice. It was the first time she was learning what falling for someone was, and even though it was scary, she was jumping in headfirst.

“Hi, honey. Ready to go home?” Allison hugged her daughter for the first time in five days. (Y/N) nodded, truly ready to finally sleep on her own bed.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Cullen?”

“MOM!” Allison laughed at her daughter’s reaction. It was easy to see that (Y/N) had taken a liking to Carlisle Cullen, and vice versa.

“What, darling? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”

“It’s not like that, mom.”

“But you’d like it to be like that.”

“I’m not talking about that with my mother.” (Y/N) placed her cold hands on her cheeks, trying to cool down the warm blood that had rushed onto her cheeks. The cool air of the car’s A/C was only helping her so much.

“I just want you to be careful with that, honey. He’s older than you, technically has kids, and rumor has it he is married.”

A breath hitched in her throat. Married? She knew he had adopted five kids, most of them her age, but not that he was married. Had she read the situation wrong? He didn’t wear a ring, he didn’t mention any relationship, he had no pictures of a woman in his office. Then again, they had only spent five days together at the hospital. She didn’t know what he did when he went home at night, who he went home to at night. (Y/N) shouldn’t feel betrayed—they weren’t anything, and they weren’t on track to become anything.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ve just been picking his brain about working in the hospital, and he’s been helping me with what I’m gonna be doing this summer.”

“Oh, have you decided what you want to do?”

“I’m gonna get my medical assistant certification. It’s a three-month course then I can work at the hospital.”

“That’s great, honey.” Allison smiled at her daughter from the driver’s side. “Is that where you’d see yourself making a career?”

“Not sure. I want to take this time to see if life in a hospital is truly where I’d like to work – see if medical school would be it for me.”

(Y/N) hadn’t taken the time to focus on her future. In her high school career, she spent her time focusing on the present and piling on as much as she could, and now she had no sense of direction. She would take every day as it came, hoping one day she would find her purpose.

Finally, back home, she hopped off the truck and stretched out her limbs, stiff from the days on a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath of fresh air and basking in the afternoon sun. The cold that had seeped into her bones from the hospital melted off, and she smiled feeling the warmth surround her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Allison told her daughter. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly made her way up the stairs to see what her mom meant. Opening the door, tears forming in her eyes. Her room had done a 180-degree turn. The walls had been painted a light beige color, and plants hung from the walls bringing warmth to the room. The bed was adorned with a white cover, and a fluffy duvet to keep her warm at night. A wooden frame sat atop the bed dressed in white linen and ivy vines. A bookcase lived in the corner of her room, filled to the brim with her collection of hardbacks and peppered with potted plants. Opposite the bed was a small desk with a dark green suede chair, her laptop set up in the workspace. Her room finally felt like hers.

“Do you like it, honey?”

“Mom, did you do this?”

“I wish I could take credit, but your brother and your friend Paul came over when I was at work and redecorated. I was actually surprised that they even came over.”

“I’ll have to thank them,” (Y/N) grinned. Even though their relationship was strained at the moment, and she had yet to see Paul since coming back, she was glad that they had taken time out of their days to do this for her. “I’ll go over to Sam’s house for a bit, maybe now he’ll have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow, honey? You should take it easy.”

“I feel a lot better, mom. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“I’m your mother, I’ll always worry. If you’re gonna go out, go see Jacob. He was really worried about you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed her bag to head out. Her first stop was to the Black residence. Jacob saw her coming down the street and ran out to wrap her in a hug. When she collapsed last week, he had been very concerned when she collapsed in his garage. Jacob was glad that she had made a full recovery and was now back home, with minimum side effects showing. The visit was short, only a quick hello to ensure the boy that she was okay.

After spending some time with Jacob, she walked towards Sam’s house – she hoped to catch Paul there too since she had heard he now spent his time there alongside Jared Cameron. It hadn’t clicked in her head why Paul would ever hang out with her brother and Jared. Even when they were back in middle school, he never paid them any mind, having a separate friend group. She had only become his friend by spending time with him away from school, and her brother had always disliked them together, claiming he was a bad influence.

Outside of the small house, (Y/N) could hear the low chatter of manly voices, a higher-pitched one joining after. There was no mistaking that Sam was home. She started feeling nervous as she raised her hand to knock on the door. The shaky limb was able to make contact with the blue door twice before it opened wide open, revealing a shirtless Paul Lahote.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned. Paul knew she was back, but Sam had given him clear instructions to stay away from her due to their situation.

“Hey, Paul. Long time no see, huh?” The girl smiled at her friend that now towered over her. A few years ago, they were still of the same stature, but too much time had passed since then. She went in for a hug, and Paul cut it short – worried she might note his burning temperature. “Is Sam home?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning towards the kitchen. “Sam! (Y/N)’s here.”

The older male appeared in front of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Hey, (Y/N). Good to see you’re doing better. What brings you around?”

“I just wanted to thank you both for what you did in my room. Mom told me you worked on it while we were away. It’s a dream.” Sam smiled at his younger sister and shared a hug with the smaller girl.

“I’m glad you liked it, (Y/N). We wanted to give you a place where you could rest better after the accident. It’s the least we could do.” The alpha could hear the duo that was left in the kitchen had grown curious about who was at the door. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

“Are you really inviting me in?” (Y/N) was taken aback – the last thing she thought was that she would get that invitation.

“Yeah, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Sam responded, keeping his doubts of the encounter to himself.

(Y/N) walked through the threshold and instantly felt the warm aura that emanated from inside of the house. It was a welcoming environment that she had grown to love from her own mother’s house. She walked behind Sam, Paul following behind them. `There was nothing that could prepare her to the sight she was met with.

In front of her stood a beautiful woman. She had tan skin, long black hair, and a beautiful smile. But there was something that stood out to her, something she was sure stood out to everyone – three long gashes ran through the front of her face. Yet, they didn’t distract from the alluring atmosphere that surrounded her. Sam moved to her side, and (Y/N) quickly connected the dots and figured that was Emily Young. The Uley girl wanted to be indifferent to her presence, knowing how one of her friends had been hurt by the union in front of her, she couldn’t help but note the love that radiated from the pair. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother as happy as he looked as he stared at his fiancé.

“(Y/N), it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Emily stretched out her hand towards the girl, which (Y/N) gladly took. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” (Y/N) joked. “Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to get to know each other more. I’d love to get to know the woman my brother is set to marry.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough time now that you’re back.” Emily smiled and grabbed a basket filled with muffins, offering them to the girl. (Y/N) gladly took the baked good in her hand, picking at it and placing the piece in her mouth – a wonderful taste that quickly melted in her mouth. “You’re welcome over any time. Any family of Sam is family to me.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Not much time passed before Sam had cut the meeting short, claiming there was something important the duo had to do. “We should do this another time, (Y/N). Paul and I have to go.”

“Go where?” (Y/N) questioned. “It’s already night, not much to do.”

“I can’t really tell you, sis. But it’s important.”

“So still guarding secrets?” Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m growing used to it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I can take a hint, Sam. I know when I’m not wanted,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for the muffins, Emily. They were divine. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer and visit sometime soon.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’m sorry we had to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you guys.” (Y/N) took her bag and exited the house. She was confused on why Sam had welcomed her in only to have her leave soon after – there was something big he was hiding, and she needed to find out what it was.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Paul jogged up to her, turning her around. “Look, I hope you understand that we’re not trying to push you away on purpose. There are things that Sam is protecting you from.”

“Like what, Paul? What danger could possibly be surrounding us that he would stray from his family?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell you, (Y/N). As much as I hate keeping this from you, Sam would not allow it to come from anyone but himself.”

“Are you serious? What kind of power does he have over you?”

“PAUL!” Sam shouted, gaining the attention of his beta. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I hope one day you’ll forgive us.” Paul kissed her forehead and went to meet up with his alpha.

(Y/N) stood still as she watched their bodies disappear into the woods. She debated whether to follow them for a brief second, but she was exhausted. She left back home with a million questions running through her head. The pair of Sam and Paul was a strange view, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

When she got home, (Y/N) noticed her mother asleep on the couch, the tv in front of her still playing. The years that passed were clear on her face, the worry that she carried for both her children plastered in the lines of her face. She could see the exhaustion that she held, years of caring for two kids by herself taking a toll on her. (Y/N) grabbed a blanket and laid it on top of her mother’s body, making sure that she was warm during the night. She left a kiss on her cheek, thankful for everything her mother had sacrificed for her.

After showering the day off, (Y/N) changed into her pajamas and laid in bed staring at her phone’s screen. She thought if she stared at it long enough a message would magically pop up. Minutes passed and her phone kept silent, not a single notification appearing on the screen. She scrolled through her directory until it landed on the newest listing. Carlisle Cullen, it read. Her finger clicked on it and selected new message.

Her fingers danced atop the keyboard of her phone, no words coming to her mind to send to the doctor. Should she even send him a message? What if he truly was married? She would never want to come between a couple. But her fingers did not follow her thought train. Unconsciously, they started typing away a message and before she could analyze her actions, she sent the message.

Hi, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I made it home okay and don’t have any symptoms, seems like you fixed me up! Anyways, wanted to know if you possibly had some free time this weekend to join me for some dinner at La Bella Italia. Hope you had a good rest of the day at work!

Her jaw fell when her screen read message sent. There was no way to delete it now. It was out there, and it would make its way to his phone. (Y/N)’s head fell onto her pillow and muffled a scream that escaped from her throat. This feeling was alien to her, and she was learning what steps to take to grow closer to the astonishing man. Minutes felt like an eternity to (Y/N), thinking that she had imploded the friendship she had built with the man over the past week.

Beep.

The sound from her phone caught her attention. She scrambled for her phone and quietly shrieked at the words on her screen.

Hello, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re feeling better, hopefully, no symptoms will arise once more. And I did have a good day at work, although I missed our afternoon book chats. I have a free day on Sunday. Tell me a time and I can meet you in Port Angeles. Hope that day is good for you.

“He said yes. If he were actually married, he wouldn’t have said yes,” she thought.

So, she typed back.

I’m glad you had a good day, and the book chats have an easy fix. I’m just a phone call away. As for Sunday, it’s a perfect day. I think around 5:30 would be a good time for dinner. Let me know if it works.

Sent.

Seconds later, another beep.

I’ll make sure to schedule those calls then. 5:30 sounds perfect. I’ll see you there. Have a good night, (Y/N).

See you then, Carlisle. Good night. 😊

(Y/N) smiled at her phone, joy wanting to burst from her body. She was reveling in this new feeling and the happiness it brought her. If it was Carlisle, it was worth it, she believed.

That night she went to sleep with the biggest smile she had experienced in her life. Unbeknownst to the life-changing moments that were to follow this meeting.

Tag List: @daniallh @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @imaginetwilight2704 @jessicas-undrground @hey-you-therexo @mauvette268 @mxyee @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years ago

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My Past Frozen Behind Glass

Pairing: Thirteenth Doctor x Reader, Thirteenth Doctor x River Song x Reader

Word Count: 8,857

Warnings: Angst, besties there’s SO much angst, mentions of death, mourning, ridiculous amounts of bittersweet pining curtesy of a one (1) Doctor™

Summary: The ghosts of the Doctors past haunt her. She had long since convinced herself that she could move on, that she could accept the fleetingness of human mortality. But an encounter with the people she once loved most causes her to reconsider that maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to be this way.

A/N: I’ve got one, maybe two more parts planned to pair with this fic, but this is still it’s own standalone. I NEED thank the thirsting for thirteen discord, y’all are wonderful and I love you all, thank you for putting up with me screaming about this fic for days, and I hope you enjoy your well overdue pain.

It was a quiet day on the TARDIS, innocent enough. The Doctor was working on the TARDIS’ brake system – on their last adventure they had crashed, and the TARDIS had been quite upset. Even now, whilst the Doctor worked on repairing her grumpy ship, the TARDIS innocuously zapped her with lose wires.

The others – the Doctors delightful fam, were also gathered in the console room, as they often did these days. But, for the life of her, the Doctor hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing. She could hear idle conversation, and if she really concentrated, she could make out some words.

Something to do with “not the first” and “oh, who’s this.”

The connecting wire to the piston assembly wheel sparked, whacking the Doctor on the nose. She flinched back, scrunching up her face as she did so. “Aw come on,” she protested. “That wasn’t necessary!”

She went to grab the wire, but it went off again, the sparks burning her thumb. The Doctor hissed, driving her thumb into her mouth. “If you keep this up,” she pulled her thumb from her mouth and spoke softly, so only the TARDIS could hear her. “I’ll use the Paxus V Lubricant Oil on you, don’t you think I won’t,” she added a glare for extra effect. “Just you wait, we’ll get to oiling your disk plates and the WD-40 will be gone.”

She didn’t think her glare was too effective, but, after a whirr of protest, the wire stopped sparking. The Doctor took that as a win.

She snatched the wire, fiddling with the copper ends with her trusty sonic, when a voice broke through her concentration. She paused, poking her head up to the console level. “What was that?”

The fam was gathered around the projector, sitting on a mismatch of pillows and blankets. Ryan was even eating popcorn. Yaz turned back to face the Doctor.

“The TARDIS,” she repeated. “She’s showing us pictures of people.”

“We’re inventing stories for them,” Ryan added, although he didn’t turn to look at the Doctor when he spoke, and instead chose to shovel another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“And we were just wondering who these two were,” Yaz pointed her thumb towards the wall, and the Doctors followed her movements, regarding the projector.

The Doctors gaze locked onto the image, and she froze. Her eyes roved over a mess of white curls, paired with a halo of tightly coiled black ones. She mapped out a bright smile and a bright top, with dark arms wrapped around a sullen figure with a small smile of his own, one hand gripping an electric guitar, and the other holding a box of chips. There was a thumb in the corner of the photo, blurry and unfocused, the thumb of the person taking the photo.

The first thing she felt was grief, such a violent wave of it that it threatened to consume her. It sunk from her skin, pierced her bones, and settled into her gut. The Doctor felt bruised and a masochistic part of herself almost delighted in the sense of melancholy that grew from her heart, twisting around her fragile frame, and pressing into her chest and throat.

But then her eyes swept over Bill’s face, grinning up there on that large screen, and the Doctor couldn’t help but smile. Just a small one, smaller than the one she was giving in the photo, but it was there.

“That’s me,” she said softly. “Me and an old friend.”

The Doctor felt her fam’s gazes turn to her as she pulled herself upwards. She stepped away from the console, walking towards where they were.

“Which one’s you?” Graham asked, but his voice matched the Doctors volume, soft, knowing.

“Him,” she nodded towards the picture. “He was my last face actually,” she grazed her fingers across her cheek. “Before this one.”

The Doctor walked over slowly, her eyes never leaving Bills. There was so much life in them, so much joy.

“So,” Ryan spoke over a mouthful of popcorn. “You really were an old Scottish dude once.”

“I’m still old,” she said, and wrapped herself around one of the crystal pillars. She chuckled, a thought occurring to her, something so bright, so full of wonder, that it momentarily stopped her hearts. “My wife would probably be happier with this face though.”

Ryan blanched. “You’re married?”

The Doctor almost gawked. “Alright Ryan Sinclair, say what you really think.”

He backtracked. “Sorry it’s just – it’s not something that you’ve ever really brought up.”

The Doctor thought about River, her wild curls, her addictive grin, and her familiar perfume. The memory danced around her, wrapping her in warm arms and holding her there. But it burned too, because the very arms that held her there were gone – long gone, trapped in a dream – or maybe a memory, inside the bowls of a very large, very lonely library.

And the Doctor had been the one to do so.

Part of her hoped, really hoped, that River had omitted things from her diary. That maybe their story wasn’t over.

But that wasn’t really possible, was it.

So no, she didn’t really bring it up.

Instead, she nodded back towards the screen. “So yeah, Scottish. That was me. Big angry eyebrows too.”

The others hummed and took the cue for what it was. They settled in, turning back to the picture in question.

The Doctor let their voices melt over her and settled back into the crystal pillar. She drummed her fingers against it and spoke so softly that only the TARDIS could hear. “Why’re you showing them this old girl?”

Another image appeared just as suddenly, and the Doctors hearts clenched. It was a face she hadn’t seen in a very long time. A wide, delighted grin, a mane of blonde hair, tangled into a nice updo, and bright hazel eyes staring into the camera. She was on the back of a motorcycle, her bright pink dress puffing out at the sides.

“Oh, she’s definitely having the time of her life,” Ryan commented.

“I don’t think she’s actually from the 1950’s though,” Yaz added. “Look at her makeup…”

The pain in the Doctor hearts dampened into a dull throb as the voices of her friends sung into the background. This was an old wound, one that left an echo in the back of the Doctors mind. She let the grief dispel from her frame, let it leach from her toes and her fingertips, into the cool crystal she was holding.

This was a nice photo. Here, she was smiling.

“Another friend,” she said over the voices of the fam, who were chattering away and inventing a dazzling life for Rose. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

The Doctor could feel the quizzical, empathetic look Yaz was giving her. Could hear it too in her voice when she spoke. “Where is she now?”

The Doctor thought of Bad Wolf Bay, of the kiss she had witnessed, and gave a small, sad smile “Happy. I hope.”

There was a hum, then a spark from the console lit up the room. The Doctor snorted fondly. “Yeah, yeah I hear you,” she said, loud enough so the others could hear. “I’ll get back to them brakes now.”

She wandered back and plopped under the console, picking up the stray wire between her two fingers. Using the sonic, she began repairing it, tightening the copper. She softly thought of Nardole’s fat fingers, and of the friends she wasn’t going to see again. But that was okay, wasn’t it? She held them close with her, kept the memory of them and their smiles safe in her hearts.

Then Yaz cried out. “Oh, that’s such a cool jacket.”

The curiosity ate away at her, coiling itself into her gut. She didn’t want to look, something inside the Doctor told her she shouldn’t look – but before she could respond to that feeling, let it settle, let herself analyse why she was feeling that way, she had already turned around-

-And came face to face with you.

The Doctor dropped her sonic. There was the distant sound of it clattering against the floor. She barely noticed. Her brain stuttered for a moment. Your eyes were bright, so, so bright, and alive. She felt them looking into her own. Shining with mirth as they were, it was like the camera wasn’t there. There was this warm glow about you, one that seemed to radiate from beyond the image.

It felt as though, if the Doctor would only reach out her hand, she could touch you. So she did, and met nothing but air. Something inside her shattered.

She turned back to the console abruptly, with nothing but white noise serenading her impeding breakdown. She swallowed, her eyes stinging so sharply that for a moment the Doctor was blinded by it. It stunned her, the surprise rocking her core so violently that it shocked her from tears at all. The Doctor was not a crier, in this face she never had been.

There was a laugh from the floor, and the Doctor almost mistook it for yours.

She glared at the wire. “You’re getting the Paxus V Lubricant Oil.”

Except – it didn’t end there.

Ryan had asked to visit the moon, an idea that had latched onto Graham and Yaz, making them fervently agree.

Yaz leapt into the air, her spacesuit bright against her darker skin. “When was the last time you were on the moon Doc?”

“Oh yeah,” Ryan said. “You ever been to the moon before?”

“Oh loads of times,” the Doctor replied. She threw herself into the air, letting herself float, before settling back down. For a moment, she hoped it wouldn’t damage the creature inside.

“So, what’d you do here then?” Graham asked. He was settled firmly on the ground, dusting off different moon stones and inspecting them carefully. “Did you just jump around like this?”

“Nah not really,” the Doctor thought on it for a moment, launching herself back into the air. “ast time I had fun on the moon was-”

The Doctor crashed, landing on her left shoulder. Pain rocked into her body, shooting through her neck and down her chest. She rolled over, panting out a heavy breath.

Clara.

The last time she had been to the moon to have fun.

Was with Clara.

The Doctor sobered, sitting up suddenly just as Yaz came rushing over.

“Oh Doc, hey, are you okay?” She came to the Doctors side, crouching.

The Doctor gave her a pained smile, hoping it looked like a smile, and not the sneer she was sure she was actually giving. “Me? Oh yeah of course, I’m a peachy as a fruit salad.”

Yaz scrunched up her face. “That doesn’t make a whole load of sense.”

The Doctor brushed her off, standing on shaky legs. She had to get inside, get away from this all. She brushed her hands against her legs, the space suit making a funny noise at the contact. “You lot keep doing your thing, I’ve got to fix myself up. It was a bit of a fall, that.”

Yaz gave her a disbelieving look, and the Doctor refused to look at Ryan and Graham, knowing they would be giving her the same. Instead, she turned around and moon-marched back to the TARDIS.

Yaz had asked to see Rome, and this time, the Doctor had actually landed there. The four of them were wandering through the city, decked out in their personal togas, and enjoying the spoils that the marketplace had to offer.

The Doctor was distracted by a merchant’s honey when Graham came by her side. “It’s really nice to see you like this Doc,” he said. “I woulda thought you’d be bored of stuff like this now. You must come to Rome all the time.”

The Doctor hummed. “I actually haven’t been for a couple of centuries,” the Doctor paused, thinking about it carefully. “I must’ve been in my seventh face at the time. Just did a quick pit stop, really.”

Graham did a double take. “Wait Doc hold on, you’re married?”

She tasted some of the merchant’s honey. It was sweet and delightful; she could taste eucalyptus and the valleys of woodland by the sea.

Behind her, there was a loud shout. A man screaming that he didn’t speak Celtic.

Ice ran down the Doctors veins, and she turned around so suddenly she gave herself whiplash. She scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar bob of loud red hair and an even louder mouth.

Her eyes found the merchant, standing among a collection of ceramic pots and kitchen bowls, asking a woman to repeat herself. She turned away in a huff. Long black hair and olive skin.

She wasn’t Donna.

The Doctor swallowed and ran a hand through her hair. Graham came into her vision, his face pulled into a concerned frown. He lay a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey Doc, you okay?”

The Doctor nodded slowly, pulling her gaze away from the woman. “Yeah,” she lied. “I’m fine.”

The forest had long since made its claim over the old city, it’s ruins threatening to crumble as they explored. They stuck close together, warring against the eerie chill that had settled over them when they had first arrived.

That is, until Yaz had wandered off.

So the Doctor, Graham, and Ryan were busy looking for her.

In truth, the Doctor wasn’t quite sure what these ruins were, or what civilisation had formed them. This planet was pretty new to her – she actually wasn’t sure if she had been here before, but the ruins reminded her of an old English village.

They came across a large field, lined by a field of stone walls, some as tall as the Ryan’s head, whilst some barely reached the Doctors thigh. It was a mismatched maze, long forgotten to the winds and time. Carefully, the Doctor, Graham, and Ryan navigated themselves through it, sticking together. Everyone once in a while, one of them would call after Yaz, cupping their hands over their mouths.

The Doctor drummed her fingers along the wall, thinking out loud. “Maybe a century or so, it’s been here. Certainly not long enough for it to have been degraded as it has.”

“Do you think aliens have had something to do with it then?” Graham asked, and then called out for Yaz.

The Doctor hummed. “Well probably, since aliens are the ones who built this place.”

The Doctor could practically feel Graham’s eye roll. “I meant different aliens, Doc.”

The Doctor forced her face into a bright smile, itching to call out Yaz’s name again. Why wasn’t she here? The Doctor had strictly told this lot not to wander off.

“Well, that could be possible too,” The Doctor conceded. “Who knows.”

Ryan snorted. “Not us, apparently.”

The Doctor nodded. Yaz might know. After all, she had wandered off.

They came around a bend and the Doctor practically froze. Yaz was standing by a dead end, the wall twisting around her and running back the way they had come. The Doctor’s eyes widened, her breathing quicker, her mind tingling. Yaz looked… fine. Which wasn’t right. She seemed calm enough, her posture relaxed, her stance at ease. It was so polar opposite of how she should be standing. Rigid, poised, ready to run. Because in front of her was a statue.

A statue of an angel.

Ryan laughed out loud, the sound an echo against the raging tide turning in the Doctors mind. He began to run over to Yaz, Graham not far behind him.

The Doctor couldn’t help the way her voice broke. She threw out her hand. “Don’t!”

Graham and Ryan paused, turning back to her. Yaz turned too, giving the Doctor a raised eyebrow, but her gaze never left the statue. “Whatever you do,” she spoke slowly, grateful at how level her voice was. “Don’t blink. Don’t even blink. You blink and we’re gone.”

Her friends paled.

“Doc,” Graham said. “What’re you talking about?”

“That right there,” the Doctor said. “It’s called a weeping angel. They’re predators, some the nastiest in the universe.”

Yaz’s eyes widened, and she stumbled a half step away. “Sorry – what?”

“One touch from them and they trap you in the past,” the Doctor explained, her hearts jumping into her throat. “They feed off of the remaining time energy.”

Ryan relaxed. “Oh, that’s not too bad. We’ve got a time machine after all.”

The Doctor shook her head, her eyes never leaving the statue. They weren’t getting it, how weren’t they getting it?

The Doctors mind flashed to a graveyard, of red hair and glassy eyes. Of time stolen from a lost centurion. Of a gravestone she would never mention, and of arms that had held her as she screamed – so selfishly, so full of pain.

Her fam had to understand.

“If they touch you,” she said again. “There’s no coming back. I-” her voice broke. “I can’t get you back.”

Yaz swallowed, her eyes wide. Distantly, the Doctor wondered if she herself looked scared. She certainly felt it. “Because they consume our remaining time?” Yaz ventured.

The Doctor nodded; mouth set in a grim line. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t bring out the words.

It only took one touch.

It couldn’t happen again.

The Doctor took in a shaky breath. “Listen to me,” she said. “They’re quantum locked; they can’t move as long as they’re being watched. As long as we’re watching it, it won’t move.”

The others nodded with various degrees of certainty. The Doctor reached out her hands, keeping her gaze locked on the statue. “Come take my hand, I won’t let it hurt you.”

Then suddenly, the Earth was ground shakey. No – that was wrong, that wasn’t the right English. It didn’t make sense – the Doctor couldn’t wrap her mind around what was happening. One minute she was standing, eyes transfixed on the damn statue, then in the next she found herself on the ground, her body crashing into the grass.

Distantly, she heard the cry of her friends, an echo in the scenery the Doctor couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. The force of the ground’s movements reverberated in the Doctors skull, in her toes, in her fingertips, against the throbbing pounding pain in her shoulder, and her back.

She groaned into the silence, it was quiet, a dead sort of silence that suffocated the life out of the Doctor breath. It was an earthquake – well, planetquake, there should be noise. But it was silent. A silence so absolutely wrong that it boarded on terrifying. She tried to sit up, but the force of the quake forced her down. It rattled her, the doctor could feel her fragile bones clatter against one another, grating and painful.

And just as suddenly as it had started, it just… stopped.

The Doctor blinked.

Immediately, she threw herself upwards, her body ignoring gravity. The Doctor hastily spun herself around, her gaze locking onto her friends. She called out, her voice hoarse, and, belatedly, they responded.

They were okay.

The Doctor paused. If she was looking at her fam, and her fam was looking at her. Then…

In an instant, the Doctor snapped her gaze to the statue. How it hadn’t hurt her friends, how it hadn’t taken her friends, she didn’t know.

The Doctor let out a laugh, slightly deranged, but oh so full of relief. The statue stood still, intact, in the same position. It was just a normal, bland, old statue.

Which meant it wasn’t an angel.

She saw her fam give her equally confused expressions, and the Doctor doubled over, her laugh devolving into cackles. “I was wrong,” she breathed out. “Oh gods, for once I was wrong.”

The Doctor woke slowly, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights above her. She could vaguely hear voices, a tense conversation punctuated by a knock against… something. Glass?

The Doctor pulled herself up, letting out a tired groan. She captured her head in her hand, leaning into her other palm, which was resting on the cool floor. She blinked a couple of times before squeezing her eyes shut. Did her head hurt? Why did it hurt?

“That won’t work,” a voice said, and the Doctors blood ran cold. “I tried it when I first arrived.”

The Doctor was imagining things, surely. There was no way this voice was here. It wasn’t possible.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try again, right?” That was Yaz – wasn’t it? Why was Yaz here?

The voice – that voice, the one that made the hair on the Doctor’s arms stand on end. The one that ghosted against the nape of the Doctor’s neck, sending chills down her spine. It spoke again. “I mean – sure,” there was some shuffling. “Let me help you out.”

The Doctor lifted her head off of her hand, taking in the space. It was… white. Pristine white floors stretched out from her and met equally sterile white walls. Even the roof was white, untouched.

The Doctor stood up on wobbly legs, shooting forward. There was a cry – Ryan, maybe, and just as suddenly, a hand was holding her shoulder. “Hey,” the voice, that voice, the voice that couldn’t be possible, spoke again. It was soft, quiet, so impossibly caring – and it shouldn’t exist. “Are you okay?”

A familiar feeling settled in the Doctors frame, right against her chest. It clawed against her, in her gut, in her fingers, and in her toes. She didn’t want to turn around; she couldn’t turn around. She was afraid.

She took in a shaky breath, and then, on unsteady feet, her hands trembling, she turned.

Only to come face to face with-

-You.

Her hearts caught, and the Doctor found herself rooted in place. It was as if her body were surprised, like it hadn’t caught up with her mind, as if it couldn’t possibly know that it had been you. With your voice, and your hand, and your eyes – oh your eyes. So large, so bright, so warm. Your eyes were tight and worried, skirting over her face, looking for… something.

There was a beat, only one, where the Doctor just let herself simply bask in your presence. The fluorescent lights shone behind you, giving you this incandescent glow.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” you said eventually, your voice soft, reassuring. “We’ve been drugged, it’s normal to feel out of it.”

Distantly, the Doctor could feel herself nod, like a wire was pulling her head up and down. A hand ran through her hair – her own hair, the Doctor realised, untangling some of the knotting at the ends.

It was absolutely unfathomable. You were here. In front of her. Your hand on her shoulder, grounding, warm. You smiled at her, as though no one but the Doctor was important to you. You looked at her almost in the way you used to, like the Doctor really could be as brilliant as you believed.

“Hey Doc-,” The Doctor’s gaze snapped to the final voice, Graham, who was walking over slowly. “You alright?”

The spell had been broken.

The Doctor leaned into your hand, revelling in the contact – she still couldn’t believe it was you, and turned to Graham. “Absolutely,” she said. “Just took me a few minutes to get my bearings.”

“You’re a doctor then?” You asked, and something fell in the Doctors chest.

You didn’t recognise her.

Of course you didn’t recognise her. The Doctor mentally slapped herself. She was different, oh so very different since she had last seen you. When you had been alive, when you had been happy.

It was foolish of herself to think otherwise.

Oh – oh no. You couldn’t know who she was. Blasted laws of time. The Doctor wanted to shake you, wrap her arms around you and ask – no, demand, to know how you were here. Her hands itched to take yours and never let go. Hold you by her side. She wanted to tell you everything, about the fam, about the TARDIS’ new interior – about her own hearts, and how she had never stopped lov-

No.

She couldn’t.

You couldn’t know who she was, not really. You were a ghost, an echo of her past. To know the truth – it could break everything, slash a tear into the very fabric of space and time. Your end, her end with you, was a fixed point. As solid and real as well-

As River’s end had been.

She pulled her hands to her sides. She wasn’t going to reach out to you.

“Yeah,” she responded, after what felt like an impossibly long time, but, judging from your expression, it maybe had only been a beat. “Doctor Jane Smith, that’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow, so subtle that if the Doctor hadn’t been mapping out your features, the slope of your nose, the quirk of your lips, the way your eyes sparkled under the light, she would have missed it entirely. “Sounds like a friend of mine.”

The Doctor felt her face go cold. That was another slap. Jane Smith – too obvious, too revealing.

Your eyes raked over her person, and you gave her the smallest, cheekiest of grins. “You might just be cuter than him, though.”

Wait – cute? Oh.

“Well,” the Doctor said, attempting to salvage anything she could. She used the first example she could. “Are they an archaeologist too?”

Was she copying her wife? Yes. Would it keep you safe? Also yes.

And that was all that mattered.

She purposely ignored the confused stares of her fam – she didn’t need to see them to know they were giving her strange looks.

You gave her a small, amused grin, and the Doctor wanted to lock it up and keep it. “Something like that.”

“Oh yep, that’s the Doc,” Yaz said, and the Doctor was surprised by how convincing she sounded. “She’s mad for archaeology.”

Well – she wasn’t wrong.

You laughed, the sound so bright, so beautiful, that it fluttered into the Doctors stomach, teaming with butterflies. “That’s completely understandable,” you gave her a considering look. “Y’know, you’d probably get along with my friend. You’ve got a similar vibe. At the very least,” you squeezed her shoulder, a sparkle in your eye. “You’re just as endearing as him.”

“Oh yeah I’m sure,” Yaz said, coming up beside both you and the Doctor – you! Yaz gave the Doctor an absolutely flabbergasted look, one she carefully masked behind a single raised eyebrow and a nod of her head towards you.

The Doctor set her mouth in a line, nodding back. Yes, as far as she was concerned, it was you.

She really wanted it to be you.

Besides – you’d called her endearing.

“Anyway,” you continued, and the Doctor tried to ignore how cold she felt when you moved your hand away. “You arrived here maybe an hour ago? I’m not sure, time’s really difficult to track, and so far, I haven’t found a way out.”

The Doctor cocked her head to the side, glancing around the room. It was a box, a big white box with white glass walls. “How do y’know it’s been an hour?”

Your frowned slightly, turning back to her. “You don’t hear it?”

The Doctor chewed on her lower lip. There was… something. A ticking noise, very faint, almost impossible to hear. You smiled at her, bright and proud, and a part of the Doctor melted.

Gods, she had missed you.

“It’s ticking to the same speed as my watch,” you shook your wrist, an analogue watch – one she didn’t recognise, was wrapped around your wrist. “So, I’m assuming that wherever we are, it’s running on the same time as Earth.”

The Doctor gave you a delighted grin. She’d almost forgotten how clever you were, how ridiculously, wonderfully clever you were. “Of course,” she breathed. “So, we must be in an invented artificial space.”

You grinned. “Clever and cute. Amazing.”

The Doctor gawped, her jaw falling. In the same instance, she slammed it shut. The fact that you liked her, in this body, something so new, something so different. Well… it didn’t make her feel bad, that was for sure.

Testing the air pressure, the Doctor bounced. Once, then twice.

It was-

“The same gravity as Earth,” you gestured to the Doctor. “At least, that’s how it feels to me. That was the other clue.”

You were right, of course you were right.

Graham frowned. “How can you tell that?”

You shrugged. “I’ve travelled a lot, after a while you start to pick up on how it feels different, especially when you’re from Earth,” you waved your hand. “It’s like how you can feel the moon’s a different gravity, it’s lighter. Here, it’s heavier.”

“Wow,” Ryan said. “That’s wild.”

You gave them a small smile. “Yeah, I guess. Again, you get used to it,” you paused suddenly. “So, I have a theory on why I’m here. What about you?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. “Well, what’s your theory?”

You gave them a bashful smile. “Sorry but… I’ve only just met you, and there’s four of you against one of me.”

Something inside the Doctor broke, tarnishing her weary, forlorn hearts. You had never not trusted her. Ever.

The Doctor swallowed, thinking back on her life with you, back before everything went wrong. She could hazard a guess, could judge it by the way your eyes sparkled when Graham had called her ‘Doctor,’ in the way you had so expertly analysed what little information was around you.

“You’re here because the Doctor,” she breathed. “You know him, don’t you?”

Ryan almost squawked, she could hear his intake of breath, the way he coughed and spluttered. She knew how absurd she sounded, how utterly baffling it was to her fam. But you couldn’t know the truth. She had to keep you safe.

Your eyes grew sad, almost as if you were regarding her differently. “Yes, I assume you do too?”

“We travel with the Doctor,” Yaz said carefully, slowly. “You do too?”

Your eyes grew wide – surprised, no, that wasn’t quite right. There was a beat, only for a moment, and the Doctor had never wanted to reach out to you more.

She kept her hands to her sides.

“You come after me,” you breathed out, your voice so impossibly small. You shook your head, clearing your throat. When you spoke your voice was clearer, more assured “I do, well – I did, from your perspective,” your voice grew smaller when you spoke again. “You must all be pretty close to him, right?”

The Doctor swallowed. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You nodded. “Well, any friend of the Doctor’s is a friend of mine,” you gave them a small grin, but it didn’t reach your eyes. The Doctor wasn’t sure how to interpret that, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to interpret it. She didn’t want to see you in pain – ever. “You’re right though, I think I’m here because of the Doctor, have to be. I’m not sure who else anyone would try to glean information from.”

“So, you think we’re going to be interrogated?” Yaz said, giving you a considering look.

“Yeah, I-,” You face fell suddenly, and you let out a soft oh. “Maybe we already are.”

It clicked.

“Because we’re talking about him,” she said, just as quickly.

“Wait,” Graham said. “So they’ve got us all together so that we’ll talk about her – er, him. What’s that gonna accomplish?”

“Think about what you do when you’re out with your mates,” Yaz said, her eyes growing wide as the implications dawned on her. “What do you talk about, especially with people you’ve just met.”

“Your mutual friends,” Ryan breathed out.

Your gaze swept to the one of the walls, the one that was glass. “We’re being watched.”

The Doctor felt it first. A soft rumbling under her feet, niggling against her toes and running up her legs, into her back, and coursing down into her fingers. She turned towards the glass wall, the same wall you were looking at – with all the contempt of a women who was being unjustly watched, eyeing it warily. Why was she feeling this? It felt far too similar to-

A big boom rocked against them. You let out a startled cry, the sound absorbing the Doctor’s other senses. Before she could stop herself, the Doctor reached out, pulling you against herself as she threw herself to the ground.

For a moment she let herself revel in it, in the feeling of you in her arms once again – so warm, so real, so alive. You were tucked into her, you head resting in the crook of her neck, your hand grasping her waist. You held her almost desperately, like the Doctor was important to you, important enough to be held.

There was something so warm about it, something so right, that for a moment the Doctors brain short circuited. There was only you, you in her arms, with the familiar scent of your shampoo and the familiar feeling of your body in hers, everything else was white noise.

Until the blast smacked right into the Doctors frame. Shards of glass splintered, shrieking in protest as it almost danced in the air above. A wave of air hit the Doctor square in the back, tendrils roaming over her person.

She supressed a groan, choosing instead to look down at you. You blinked up at her wildly, but otherwise you were unharmed.

You were safe, and that – as it had always been, was the most important thing.

The dust and glass settled, and carefully, you removed yourself from the Doctor, nodding her a small thank you. The Doctor tried to ignore how cold she felt. You looked up behind her, and immediately, your face brightened, your mouth stretching into a large, almost recognisable grin.

“Well, I can say with good authority that no one is watching you anymore.”

The Doctor had barely moved, and yet, the air she had been holding so firmly in her lungs knocked out of her. She knew that voice, would recognise it anywhere, knew it the very way she knew how her own bones were stitched together.

“Hello darling.”

You threw yourself up, oblivious to the Doctors inner turmoil, laughing that beautiful, gorgeous laugh. If it were anyone but you, the Doctor would have barely acknowledged it.

You leapt over the Doctor and breathed out, completely elated. “River.”

The Doctor looked up; she couldn’t help it. River Song was colour, vibrant and brilliant, so full of the utter beauty of the cosmos. She glowed, the burn of the fire she had left behind framing her crown of curls.

River held you tightly, the way the Doctor wanted to, the way she had been holding you, and gave you a small, soft kiss on the forehead. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you.”

You pulled away, still holding River, your eyes only for her. “Never.”

Throat dry, the Doctor swallowed.

You pulled away, finally, and cocked your head to the side, giving River – her River, a small, cocky smile. “Did you have fun there,” you nodded behind them, where the fire in the observatory room burned.

The observatory-

The Doctors gaze flickered to the wall – well, what was left of it. Shards of glass stuck from the roof and the floor, jagged and sharp. They were no longer white, and instead reflected the oranges and reds of the fire burning behind them. Behind what was left of the wall were a series of desks, long since deserted, devolving into charcoal before the Doctor’s very eyes.

And there River stood, so proudly, so sure of herself, in all her brilliant glory. The Doctor gasped a little, her hearts pounding just a little bit harder – skipping every couple of beats, and absolutely reeling. How was this possible? You and River were here right in front of her. So impossibly close, and yet, she couldn’t reach out.

There was a groan behind her, and the Doctors breathing hitched. How could she? She’d been so caught up in her own emotional turmoil, stumbling over the impossible made possible, that she had completely ignored her fam.

Breathe, she had to breathe. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

She turned away from you and River – both of you, and focused on her fam, who needed her right now. She ran to Ryan first, who was slowly sitting up, holding his head in his hand. “Oh wow,” he groaned, his voice rough. “That was intense, man.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look up at me, will you?”

He did so, and the Doctor pulled out her sonic. Carefully, she scanned his eyes, noticing with relief as his pupils shrunk almost instantly. No concussion then. She rubbed up and down his arm, pulling the sonic back and checking her readings. No discernible injuries.

Good.

She went to Graham next, who had been knocked into an opposing wall. After a quick check over, she was glad to find that he too, was okay.

“Bloody hell D- er, Jane,” he said, cupping his head in his hand. “That was a whole number.”

The Doctor nodded; her mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah,” she replied. “It was, huh.”

Yaz was standing by the time the Doctor got to her, shaking glass out of her hair. The Doctor scanned her, grateful that she too, was uninjured.

It was something, at least.

With a small, determined grin, she turned back to them. “Everyone alright?”

Yaz gave her a small smile, and she noticed the others following suit. Gods, she adored them. Despite everything, all the secrets, all the pain, they knew just what to do. “Yeah,” Yaz said. “I think we’re good.”

Your voice interrupted them. “I thought you were an archaeologist, not a medical Doctor.”

River, who the Doctor noticed had been fussing over you, judging by how she shot her sonic trowel – a trowel of all things, over your frame, looked up in interest. “An archaeologist, you say?”

You nodded, still looking at the Doctor. “So she’s said. This lot travel with the Doctor.”

River cocked her head to that, wrapping an arm over your shoulder, so you were nestled into her side. The Doctors hearts ached, she wanted to be there too. “Oh?” River said, her voice low, almost sultry. “How interesting.”

The Doctor wanted to bury herself alive. You and River were both far too clever for her.

River gave the Doctor a considering look. “What’s he like?”

“Busy,” Yaz said suddenly, coming to stand by the Doctor’s side. “Obsessed with fezzes.”

The Doctor could have rejoiced. Yaz was brilliant, completely and utterly brilliant. What would the Doctor do without her?

Get tongue tied, probably.

What did humans call their partners these days? Significant Others?

Well, there they were, the two most important people to the Doctor, her significant others, her people. And she couldn’t do anything about it.

You and River let out a harmonised groan. “Of course he’s still into the fezzes,” you said.

“We were fools to expect anything less,” River agreed. She then nodded towards the Doctor. “At the very least, hon,” she winked, her eyes drifting over the Doctor’s body, almost lazily, like she had all the time in the world. “You were quite a sight to watch just then. Very formidable.”

The Doctor blinked. Once. Twice. She swallowed, trying to ignore the butterflies that twisted through her gut, making her body feel like a flustered balloon. It was so odd to get flirted with, knowing that River didn’t know who the Doctor truly was.

You laughed – again, that sound, nudging River with your shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh darling,” she mused. “As if you didn’t do the same,” she turned back to the Doctor. “Look at her.”

You hummed in agreement. “No, no. You’re right,” you turned back to River, who still hadn’t taken her arm off of you. You were completely comfortable with it too – which, of course you were. It was River, and it was you. River was everything to you.

The Doctor had been too.

She probably still was, in all honesty. Her past face, younger.

The one who had failed you.

That was a third slap. Another reason why you couldn’t know who she was, why neither of you could know. Because the Doctor had failed you – she was going to fail you.

And if you knew…

Gods, time was nothing but a wibbly wobbly… thing.

And, for you? The Doctor was scared of how far she would be willing to go to break it.

Speaking to River, as if time hadn’t completely frozen for the Doctor, you asked. “Oh hey, whilst you were blowing stuff up, did you happen to find out why we’re here?”

River laughed, and something caught in the Doctors throat. She hadn’t forgotten what it sounded like – not really, not ever, but it was gorgeous. Musical in a way that was beyond compare. “Oh darling,” she said. “I don’t blow things up, I simply,” she waved her free hand, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around you. “Held the fire in the right persuasion.”

You snorted. “Alright.”

“In any case,” River continued. “It makes sense that you lot,” she gestured to the Doctor and her fam. “Are friends with the Doctor. They had a few… choice files on him.”

You glanced back to the observation room. “Not anymore though, I assume.”

“No,” River said, her voice cold. “Not anymore.”

You squeezed her hand, giving her a warm look of reassurance. Neither of you spoke, but the Doctor knew you didn’t need to. It was innate with you; it always had been. She felt it down in her bones.

She missed you both. So, so much. The Doctor completely ached for you.

River then turned to the Doctor and her fam, her voice lighter. “We’re in Sheffield, 2019,” she said. “No idea why, but it should help. Do you need a way home?”

The Doctor breathed out a sigh of relief. They could walk to Yaz’s place, easy. That’s where the TARDIS was.

“Nah,” she said. “We’re from ‘round here. We’ll be fine.”

River nodded. “A shame, I would have liked having you around.”

You snorted, tilting your head onto her arm with a laugh. “River that was awful.”

River grinned. “Oh, you love it.”

You sobered quickly, giving her a look so earnest, that, if the Doctor were anyone else, she’d feel compelled to look away. You spoke softly. “Always.”

The Doctor swallowed and did look away. She couldn’t handle it, not when she knew she wouldn’t get the same look from either of you. Not with this face, not in this time.

You squeezed River’s hand a final time, before detangling yourself from her. “It should be safe for people to get out of here right?”

River raised an eyebrow, her eyes shining with mirth. “Oh alright. That desperate to get rid of me are you.”

You laughed. “No, we’re sticking together, I’m not going through that again.”

River nodded sagely. “Well, I won’t say I’m opposed to that.”

“We are getting out of her though,” Ryan said. “…Right?”

You nodded. “Oh yes, of course. We’ll have to walk single file, and River and I should stick to the end, because we’re more familiar with this sort of stuff – sorry.”

Yaz gave the Doctor a wide-eyed look, but the Doctor only nodded. They weren’t wrong, the Doctor loved her fam, but you and River had years of experience on them.

You looked towards the observatory room, letting out a breath of relief as the fires began to settle. “If you want to get started, we should be out of here soon.”

“Hang on,” Graham said. “Shouldn’t you,” he gestured to River. “Be leading us out of her.”

River shook her head. “I’m not leaving Y/N.”

The Doctor held up her hands, surprised that they were somewhat shaking. “It’s fine. We’re happy to go first.”

The Doctor shoved her hands into her pockets.

Yaz nodded, resolute. “Okay, let’s go then.”

Soon, Yaz, Graham, and Ryan were heading off, picking through the glass and evading the dwindling fires. You and River however, lingered, so the Doctor did too. Why weren’t you following?

Eventually, once the fam were out of sight, you collapsed against a wall, letting your head rest against it. You let out a shaky sigh. River turned to you, her face falling into worry. She lay a hand on your back, whispering to you.

If the Doctor wanted, she could strain her ears to listen.

But she would give you your privacy. It was the right thing to do.

The sound of the Doctors boots crunching into the glass practically echoed in the otherwise silent room, as she was slowly itching her way across to the observatory room. You were silent for a beat. Then another. Until, suddenly, you said. “Obsessed with fezzes, huh?”

The Doctor could practically feel the way her eyes bulged from her skull. River paused her movements. “Y-yeah,” the Doctor coughed. “Loves a fez.”

River’s jaw fell. She threw her head to the Doctor, back to you, the Doctor, then to you again. She spoke in a heated whisper. “It can’t be.”

You turned away from the wall, looking back at the Doctor – truly looking at her. It was like your gaze pierced through the Doctors skin, like you could see into her very hearts. You walked towards her, slowly, oh so very slowly, but the Doctor found she couldn’t – or maybe wouldn’t move.

The Doctor’s breathing hitched as you met her, landing almost nose to nose. You squinted eyes slightly, crooking your head to the side. There was silence between you, long and hazy. You gave her an expectant look, almost daring the Doctor to say something.

But then you spoke instead. “You’re a terrible actor, Jane Smith.”

There was a shout behind them. “Oh my god.”

The Doctor swallowed, but before she could respond, before she could do much of anything, River was beside you. She looked hurt – like she had washed been in acid. Her eyes were wide, almost frightened. Her eyes flitted across the Doctors face, searching for something. Slowly, she took in a shaky breath. She looked absolutely and completely broken.

The slap stung, the clap echoing across the room. Pain stretched across the Doctors cheek, throbbing and burning all at the same time. The Doctor reeled, shooting back from the force.

Quickly, she threw her hand to her cheek to cup it gently. “Ow.”

River seethed. “How dare you.”

The Doctor laughed. It overtook her, overwhelming her senses. It travelled through her arms, wrapped itself around her chest, and burst a blubbering cackle from the very depths of her diaphragm.

Your face fell. So did Rivers. And instantly, you reached a hand to hold her. “Oh gosh Doctor, are you okay?”

Doctor.

She let herself laugh some more. Doctor.

She’d forgotten how that sounded. She’d forgotten how you looked at her, like she was just oh so very important – more important than the stars she took you to see, more important than the songs, the hymns, that civilisations sung about you.

River ran a hand through her hair, her eyes jumped through the room, she was thinking, something that was always very dangerous with her. But when she looked at the Doctor – gods, when she truly saw the Doctor, it was freeing.

She composed herself, she couldn’t squander this chance. She was with you, her people. And she didn’t want to waste a second. “I just…” She could feel how light her voice was when she spoke. “Gods, I can’t begin to tell you how much I missed you.”

River’s face fell into a sad smile. “And I you.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Always.”

The Doctor paused, her gaze flitting between the two of you. You were both so… sad. Why were you so sad.

“We can’t be here,” River said, her voice so soft it was like she was talking to a spooked animal. Maybe she was. “All of us, together, now,” she continued. “This can’t happen.”

And it dawned on the Doctor, so violently it threated to shake her core.

“When?” She asked, her voice breaking over the word. She could hazard a guess, but she didn’t want to be right. For once, she couldn’t be.

River gave her the saddest of looks, one that ate the Doctor to the bone. The Doctor almost told her to stop, to never, ever speak it. But speak it, River did. “After Darillium.”

Oh.

You let out a gasp, turning to River. “No.”

Utter anguish threatened to consume the Doctor. Here you were, both of you, right in front of her after all this time – and you were on the road towards your end. There was nothing she could do about it. She wanted to scream, or maybe cry out, the complete desolate misery rolling in her gut, coiling around her fragile hearts.

It was just so unfair.

She neither screamed nor cried out. Instead, she took in a single, shaky breath, and allowed the thought to pass.

She could fix this.

You were here, this had to mean something. Her gaze found your wildly, and she spoke in almost blind hope. “Come with me.”

River paled, her eyes growing watery. Despite this, she remained composed. “You know we-”

“Don’t,” The Doctor said, her voice almost broken. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t face it “Don’t finish that sentence.”

River sighed, and, after a beat, the Doctor felt a soft, small kiss on her forehead. The Doctor leaned into it, terrified of opening her eyes.

In a shallow, devastated breath, River spoke. “Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Wait-,” you said, and the Doctor scrambled, opening her eyes in an instant. However, River was already gone. Gone with the same fire that had brought her here.

The Doctor let out a harsh, angry cry, and you took her hand. The Doctor looked at it for a moment, marvelling in the way your fingers were wrapped around her own. She let her gaze travel up your arm, you were wearing your favourite jumper, the one she had always been desperate to try.

You rubbed your eyes with the back of your jumper’s sleeve. Then, you braced the Doctor with a hard look. “Listen. Come find me. Come find us.”

The Doctor shook her head. There was fire and glass, and everything was lost. She had accepted this, learned how to accept it, and do her best to move on.

How unfair, how utterly cruel that she was faced with you both once more, knowing that she couldn’t have you. “It’s not possible,” her voice wavered. “You’re gone.”

“That is complete and utter nonsense, and you know it,” you replied, your voice like steel. You were sure of yourself, composed in a way the Doctor had always once been for you. “If there’s one thing you’re good at Doctor, it’s doing the impossible.”

The Doctor swallowed, and you took a step forward, so your noses were touching. You poked her in the chest, leaving your finger in its place. You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare give up on us, on me, on her.”

The Doctor blinked owlishly at you. Was it possible? Could she find you? Could she save you – both of you?

“I don’t know what’s going to happen Doctor,” you continued. “But I know, whatever it is, we can fix it.”

What was it about time? There was something important about it, she had been thinking about it only a moment earlier. Wibbly-wobbly.

Right?

You squeezed her hand, before pulling her into a bone crushing hug. The Doctor let herself melt into it, she was selfish like that, and she couldn’t let you go.

But you pulled away.

Before she could open your eyes, you covered them with your hand. With more conviction than the Doctor thought she had ever heard you speak, you spoke two words, only two, and somehow – it was enough to change everything. “Find us.”

Then, just as suddenly as River, perfect, formidable River, you were gone.

In the empty white room, with glass scattered around her feet, and the dying embers burning behind her, the Doctor stood. She ghosted her hand over her forehead, where Rivers lips had just been, and held her hand – the hand you had been holding, against her hearts.

Time, it was fragile, wasn’t it? There was some law about it, something about fixed time points, certain things being set in stone. People came and went, that was how the Doctors life had always been. She’d even gotten used to the grief by now, letting it pass over her, letting it drift into the voices of strangers and the faces of those she’d never get a chance to see.

But sometimes – well, sometimes rules were made to be broken, weren’t they?

She was going to find you. She was going to save you.

Both of you.

A/N^2: It’s important to mention that ‘big boom’ and ‘ground shakey’ were descriptions curtesy of @bizarredalek and @fabulouspotatosister respectively. I’m both equally impressed by what you came up with, and that I could unironically fit them in here. Also shout out to @iced-tea-possibly for sticking with me pretty much the entire time I wrote it, you’re far too good to me. Love y’all loads

#13th doctor x reader #River Song x Reader #the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW

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troquantary · 4 years ago

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Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #edward cullen #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #long post #major credit due to therealvinelle for having basically all the ideas already #theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin too since they agree and build off each other's metas a lot #idk how people who write meta can just crank these posts out i've been here for two hours #edited to add stuff i forgot to mention about edward's disproportionately violent fantasies

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creepling · 4 years ago

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the shape of you - (smut)

pairing: din djarin x fem!reader

word count: 5.1K

summary: the mandalorian saves an intergalatic sex worker from a prison ship and brings her on board the razor crest. tensions begin to rise between the two as one night goes in a direction the other did not expect.

rating: EXPLICIT (minors dni) -- mentions of sex work/slavery, sexual dancing, oral (male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), doggystyle, begging, rough sex, breeding kink??, cursing.

a/n: this is my first time not writing in first person for a fanfic so sorry if it’s hard to read at some points!!

alternative link: ao3.

Ever since you were saved by The Mandalorian from the prison ship, for reasons that are still unknown to you, a sense of relief and freedom coursed through your body. If only The Mandalorian knew about your fate, he may sympathize with you more. All throughout your life, ever since your adolescence have you been bought and sold by many throughout the galaxy, either for entertainment or pleasure. If the authorities had not raided the trading ship you were on board upon you were to be in the hands of Jabba The Hutt; a grotesque-looking crime lord you were certainly relieved to be rid from. But alas, luck then comes with its flaws and instead you were trapped in a cell in the nowhere realms of the galaxy -- beginning to wonder if your body would wither away and die in the cell for years to come.

You had never set eyes on a Mandalorian until that day, not even as a client. You thought them more mythical than their opposing Jedi Knights. The shine of his helmet and his strong arms whisking you to safety brought a sense of optimism into your world view. It made you realise that there are some good people in the galaxy. And once you were on board his ship and encountered The Child, the sight of something so precious gave you a nurturing urge. The Mandolorian’s protectiveness over The Child was so rare to you. It made you yearn for his protectiveness, for a man like him to defend you at every corner. It made you want to be noticed.

Once arriving to a planet, The Mandalorian promised to bring back supplies, one of them included fresh clothes to replace the revealing garments you wore. You asked if the lack of fabric was distracting, showing your natural alluring nature. To which The Mandalorian replied with a bluntly logical answer, saying the clothes will not be suitable for travelling. As much as you agreed, you wished that he loosened up with you a bit more, beginning to wonder if The Mandalorian was even finding your company pleasant.

That night he returned with a sack-full of supplies. He arranged supper for the night, feeding The Child first before it grew too tired to eat, shortly after putting it to bed in its shut-off container within the ship. You had requested The Mandalorian some spotchka if he could find any, to which you looked through the sack to see an untouched bottle full of the glowing blue liquid. A smile came to your face and you immediately poured two glasses of the liquid. When the Mandalorian entered the room, you held his glass with an outreached hand, beckoning him to drink it. Then you said some words:

“I wanted to make a toast, in celebration! To thank you for saving my life yesterday. I would have gone out and gotten the beverage myself, if you hadn’t forbidden me to leave the ship.” You said, a sweet smile creeping onto your face, feeling a little bashful as you stood in front of his towering figure.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He said, his helmet tilting down as he glanced at the drink in his hand. “But I shouldn’t drink on the job.”

“I only ask for one drink, Mando. Just for tonight. I’ll look away when you take sips of it.” You promised, hoping he will feel more at ease with that statement.

He gave a low hum in agreement, bringing a smile to your face. You wished you could see his smile, see his face. See how he reacts to your presence. You clinked your glass against his and immediately turned around, taking a sip of your drink. Your inner voice urged you to turn, to take a glance at his complexion. Yet, another voice also commented on how the mystery of his identity fills you with arousal. You shook the feelings burning inside and whisked the rest of the blue liquid down your throat, gasping in quenched thirst. You hesitated before turning, “Can I turn around now?

“Oh um- Yes. Thank you.” He assured. Oh my, he was so polite. Possibly the only gentlemen you have encountered with such manners. You turned around, pouring yourself another glass of spotchka to go with your supper. To save Mando some rest you prepared the food and served him by a small table in the corner of the ship’s small room, taking a seat next to him.

Once you cleared up for supper, The Mandalorian willingly sat with you for a few more minutes. He seemed to be curious about you, asking questions that you were obliged to answer, if you wanted him to trust you. You wanted to reassure him that you were not a threat.

“How did you end up in the prison ship?” The Mandalorian asked, trying not to allude to your clothes giving away that information.

“I have been a slave ever since I was an adolescence. When I came of age, I began to do dancing and sexual service for whoever bought me. I was on a trading ship to Tatooine when the New Republic raided and took prisoners. I lost count of the days, but I was roughly in there for over a month.” Telling your story felt hesitant. You wondered how he would take to you being a sex slave, as a lot of people frown upon it. You wondered if he was disgusted or sympathetic, it was hard to tell his reaction with his helmet on.

“Why did you save me? I am internally grateful, of course. But what made you do it? You seemed to be in a rush to escape.” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing in question.

“I have seen many women like you.” The Mandalorian said, “I have done bounties for crime lords who keep their own sex slaves. As much as I needed the credits, it always pained me to leave with those women trapped with that life forever. I recognised your clothes; it was the ones they wore too. I thought, if I save someone like you once in my life, I would feel less guilty.”

His words moved you. It is very rare to see someone talk to you as a human. Many treated you and other sex slaves like objects, like droids without feeling. They did not care what you liked or adored, they only cared about their gain. The work has taken an emotional toll on you as much as it was hard to admit. Every day you wished you could be free, live in a home on a peaceful planet, fall in love, raise a family. That is not hard to ask for, is it?

“Well, you have made one more slave happy.” You said, reaching your hand to place it on top of his. He stared into your eyes, entranced for a moment, before nodding his helmet and giving your hand a gentle squeeze before retrieving it back onto his lap. After a few seconds of content silence, admiring him for a moment, you spoke up.

“Want to see some of my dancing?” You said, trying to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry! I won’t touch you or anything!”

“I um- I dunno . . .” Hesitation dominated his voice, the first time you detected emotion from him. He leaned back on his chair and rubbed the back of his clothed neck.

“Honestly, it’s not as raunchy as you think it would be. I know how to be graceful when I need to be.” You said with a hint of light-heartedness. Once your words convinced him, he let out a low sigh and nodded his head.

“Go on then. Show me what you’ve got.”

A smile erupted on your face and you rose to your feet, positioning yourself from a comfortable distance in front of Mando. You raised your delicate arms outward to begin your routine. A routine that you have memorized for years, one that showcases your grace and beauty for audiences. Counting mentally in your head, you begin to move your arms softly either side of you. Your hips began to sway, your head held high to show your face. You moved your feet to slowly turn around, showing all the lines and bends of your body. The fabric of your dress swayed with the motions and complimented your skin. You stepped from side to side, giving graceful twirls, lifting your leg in a cursive shape like a ballerina. Your arms still moved like a dignified snake, going from up other your head to around your waist and along the small of your back. A content smile lay upon your face and your eyes peaked towards The Mandalorian through your winking eyelashes; a habit you took up to intrigue watchers and make them bashful. Even without music, you fell into your element and became lost in your movements. When being a slave is a horrible life to live, the dancing made you have a passion.

The Mandalorian could not take his eyes off you. He sat content at first, until your movements made him shift in his chair as he watched how your body moved with such beauty. Under his helmet, he bit the inside of his cheek. Yet, his eyes stayed traced on you, knowing you would have no idea where his eyes lay from the blockage of his helmet. He could not stop the thoughts that flowed through his mind, thoughts relating to your body. How you were posed so perfectly from the core of your body to the ends of your fingertips. You never slouched or tripped over your feet; every movement was without failure. And your hips, God, he could not take his eyes off your hips. And when you would turn and expose your backside; your rich-colour underwear cloaked under the sheer fabric of your dress revealing your smooth skin. The deeper he got into his thoughts, the more he became out of tune with his surroundings. And when you stopped dancing, his eyes were still fixated on you.

“Sorry if that wasn’t the best, I’ve did better before.” You humbly said, oblivious to the state you have put The Mandalorian under. Your voice knocked him out of his trance and out of shock, he shot up from his seat so quickly it startled you. His armour clanked against the table clumsily and his body grew stiff to keep himself steady. The bewilderment in your eyes lingered as you observed his tall body towering over you. You looked so petite next to his stature.

“Mando- Is everything okay?” You asked, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes trailed down his body. Only now did you realise how tense he was, noticing the fabric of his uniform clenching to his toned body. You could see how strong his arms were, your eyes darting from either side. If only you could just reach out and touch them, fall into his embrace. Your legs grew weak at the thought of being so close to him. Yearning for the proximity between you to come to a close.

The Mandalorian feared to move, until a sensation ran through his body like moments before. His face grew worrisome under his disguise and he slowly looked down. That is when he noticed the tent formed between his groins. A rush of fluster grew on his face and down his neck.

“I-I’m uh- I’m going to bed.” He called, rushing towards the door of his small chambers, leaving you dumbfounded by the dining area. His sudden goodbyes made you frown, and your head turned abruptly towards his door, only capturing the wisp of his cloak and the door closing shut. Suddenly a wave of anxiety flew over you, convinced that you offended him. As you were desperate to state an apology, still naive to his situation, you marched towards his chamber door.

The Mandalorian marched in panic up and down his small chamber. A situation like this has never happened in a long time, at least not in front of another individual. He unbuttoned his trouser bottoms in a panic, peaking the front of his boxers down to make sure the worst never happened. As he did so, he released his hardened cock as it popped out the removed fabric. Witnessing his erection made him sigh in frustration. He prayed that you would go off to your bunk and call it a night so he could deal with the matter. However, as you appeared in his mind once more, his erection pulsed and twitched and Mando let out a low moan from his lips.

“Mando- please open the door. I’m sorry if I offended you, it wasn’t my intention.” You called, loud enough in hopes he could hear your voice. You knocked gently on the door, getting a clank of metal in response. As the silence deafened you and left you impatient, you looked to the control panel and pressed all the buttons in hopes one opened the door. Once the metal door came flying open, you were greeted with The Mandalorian once more but in a position, you thought you would never see him in.

He stood there with his head flung back and his gloved hands stroking his member. Once he heard the door open, he flinched and attempted to hide his erection. It was already too late; you had seen what you needed to see. Your mouth lay gaped in shock, your hands grew tense beside you and a wave of embarrassment engulfed you. Mando began shaking his head, backing himself up against the wall, his massive, gloved hands guarding your eyes from his exposure.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-” Mando kept repeating. “Why did you open the door? Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did knock!” You exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have opened the door if I knew you were doing that!”

“Okay, okay. I am really really sorry. Let’s just pretend this never happened!” Mando said, looking anywhere in the room that was not you. As your breath became heavy, the sight of The Mandalorian became your focus. He looked so vulnerable in that moment, seeing him in an act so sexual caused a wave of arousal upon you. You wondered; did I do that? Was your dancing so mesmerising to him that it excited him to this point? Is this why he left the room? My stars, you felt guilty for being so turned on in this moment.

Your feet began to take steps and approach him, your movement making him tense once more. He beckoned you to not get away closer, but you could not hear his words. You were drawn to his arms again, the ones that looked so defined-- even under his clothes. This time, you had the courage to touch them.

The Mandalorian fell short at protesting against you. He observed your small, soft hands gliding against his arms. Your touch bewitched him, making him bite his lip to contain noises of pleasure. Your eyes drew up to his gaze, his helmet blocking the intimacy. He was so mysterious, the thought of whatever facial features being under that helmet creating a sense of sensual excitement within. As your eyes left his gaze and looked downward to his hardened cock, you felt the burning sensation muster in between your legs.

“Won’t you need help with that?” You asked, the glint in your eyes growing promiscuous as you looked back up into his gaze. The Mandalorian was shocked, even if you were probably an expert in all things sexual matter. As much as he tried to protest his thoughts, he could not help making an image within his head of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“Are you sure that is a good idea?” He asked, a hint of taunting in his voice. A smirk came upon your face and you shrugged your shoulders, your hands trailing up his arms, across his shoulders and slowly down his chest.

“I’m willing to do it if you want me to.” You beckoned. Not only were you willing, but you were also begging. The dirty thoughts running through your mind became fuel for your desire. Imagining his large cock pressed into your mouth, blocking your throat; his fingers entangled in your hair. As the Mandalorian gazed down at you, he gave a sign of approval by nodding his head timidly.

Instinct caved in and you began lowering yourself to your knees, your hands trailing down his abdomen. Slowly, Mando shifted his hands away from his cock, the release of pressure causing his member to spring up once more. Your eyes fixated on his length, gulping back excess saliva as you wondered if you could take his length without feeling any pain. You bit your bottom lip in thought, looking up towards Mando for reassurance. You observed him slipping off his gloves to reveal the skin of his hands. His olive-skinned tone becoming the first exposure to you. His fingers crawled under your chin, cusping your face, admiring the position you were in. Stars, you were so beautiful.

Your fingers curved over his cock, your sudden touch letting a shuddered moan escape The Mandolorian’s mouth. His free hand pressed against the wall to keep himself balanced, the other one continuing to cradle your face as your hand began to move up and down his cock, peeling back the foreskin to reveal the tip of his cock lubbed with precum. You caught the precum that fell underneath with your tongue and entered the head of his cock into your mouth, wanting every ounce of his seed in your mouth. The Mandalorian let out a ragged moan, the feeling of your warm saturated mouth upon his member sending shoots of fulfilment up his body. His strong hand motioned along your jawline and his fingers combed through your hair, resting at the nip of your neck. You began to close your eyes in satisfaction and slowly easing his cock into your mouth, every inch deeper causing him to tighten his grip on your hair. As you opened your eyes The Mandalorian could not help but notice the lust in your eyes, your stare becoming vacant. Your left hand guided itself upwards to his abdomen as the other had a grasp on his thigh, your fingers massaging into the fabric of his clothes. The softness of your touch soothed The Mandalorian into submission, his hips slowly bucking towards your face as he longed for the feeling of your warm tongue running along his shaft. Feeling his desire, you closed your eyes once more to indulge more into his length, cockwarming him as your nose reached near his lower stomach and stayed in place. A gasp left Mando’s mouth, his other hand reaching towards your face as he gained more grip of you, holding your head in place to have his cock bathe more into your warmth. When he heard a light choke conjure up your throat, he quickly released his cock from your mouth to give you access to air. The sudden release made him look down to admire your face, clocking the string of spit connecting the tip of his cock to your bottom lip. My stars, that image was now burned into his mind and sending his instincts into overdrive.

“What name should I moan while you pleasure me, Mandalorian?” You asked, your voice airy and deep with lust. You motion your hand to his cock once more and pleasured him. The Mandalorian hesitated, still drunk with your touch, his mind becoming cloudy and unresponsive.

“Din -- my name is Din.” He managed to conjure up. This new information was so subtle, but you cherished it. Having his name roll off your tongue while feeling extreme waves of pleasure, the thought of it gave nurture to your pulsing heat.

“Nice to meet you -- Din.” You hummed. Vocalizing his name made his breaths much heavier, the sound of your soft tones interwoven into his name giving him even more ideas of what he could do to you. As primitive instincts commenced, you suddenly felt his strong arm wrap around your waist and lift you off your knees. He held you at such a great height that you were able to wrap your legs around him, your arms clasping around his neck for support. Din suddenly pressed you against the wall and held you in place, his hands grasping onto the back of your thighs. He now had the high ground, lifting you as if you were as light as a feather. The tip of his cock was perfectly aligned at your entrance, feeling the friction between you as he grinded his hips towards you. Your skimpy underwear was soaked with arousal. In all your years of sex work have you never been as titillated as you were now. No credits in all the galaxy could satisfy you as this moment did. Your legs wrapped tighter around Din as you beckoned his body closer to yours, your hips grinding against him -- begging for his cock. You noticed Din’s fingers inching closer to your heat, his fingers shifting your underwear to one side and exposing your swollen clit and dripping walls. Then, his fingers nudged at your entrance. His sudden cold touch made you gasp for air and cling tighter to him, your head pressing back onto the wall. Din rested his bulky helmet onto your shoulder as he motioned his fingers towards your clit, drawing light circles around. The stimulated sensation shot up your stomach, your legs lightly quivering. The tip of his cock still poked at your entrance in a teasing manner, and you could not help but grind against Din’s touch.

“Oh my God . . . Din.” The sound of you gasping his name sent tingles down his back, encouraging his fingers to put more pressure onto your sensitive clit, his moves hitting all the right spots. The sensation began building within you, convincing you were near your climax. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Your words encouraged, sending Din’s actions into overdrive as he pinned you closer to the wall and his body. His rhythm picked up pace and low grunts escaped his mouth. As he your legs secured around him, he let his free hand grasp onto your breast. His touch stimulated you further, a giggle leaving your lips at the sheer pleasure.

Suddenly your climax began, and an uncontrollable moan escaped from you, your legs turning to mush as you clung onto his body. Din admired your reaction, seeing your eyes turn vacant, his fingers roaming your vulva before taking his hands to hold your delicate thighs, sensing you grow weak from overstimulation. Your eyes trailed across him, leaning your forehead on the cold shine of his Baskar helmet. A subtle smirk drew across Din’s face as he exalted your complexion, noticing an ardour glow come upon your face.

It did not end there. At this point, Din felt edged on. Basking in your presence, he also bucked his hips closer to you. One hand clasped your warm cheek softly, a sense of gentleness soothing you into submission. You could sense his eyes staring at yours and at the intimacy, you had a sudden urge to kiss him. However, you knew there was no type of charming in the galaxy that would convince him to remove it. Until you got an idea.

“If I promise to close my eyes, will you kiss me?” You asked through heavy breaths, your fingers resting either side of his neck. Din thought of your offer, hesitating for a while. No living being should be able to see his face, not even in the heat of desire. Yet, if you close your eyes like promised, his oath would technically not be broken. Even if he just lifted the helmet up a little bit . . .

“You promise?” Din asked, grasping onto both your hands, interlinking his fingers into yours. You vigorously nodded your head, a smile on your face.

“I swear by all the stars in the galaxy.” You promised, pressing a little kiss on the tips of his fingers. You began to close your eyes shut, giving Din the clear to proceed and guide you to his lips.

Din slowly raised his helmet to expose his lips, guiding your legs to fall to the ground. Your feet landed on the floor, hands grasping his shoulders for stability. You never opened your eyes, keeping your word. Din slowly leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. The surprise to his touch inched you closer into him, deepening the kiss. Hesitantly, your fingers reached up to the nip of his neck and played with his hair. Din stiffed up, but softened just was quickly, tasting the flavour of his cock in your mouth. He grabbed your ass and you moaned into his lips. Your hands then reached back down his cock, stroking his member that was still hard as before. A growl left Din’s mouth, vibrating against your lips and he leaned off the kiss. Quickly dropping his helmet back into place, he lifted you back into his arms. The sudden movement made you flash open your eyes, noticing the helmet back on and Din carrying you to his bed.

As the bunker bed was too small for the both of you, Din took your hands and placed them on the bar between the two bunk beds. Keeping you in place, he began to expose your backside by rapidly pulling off your dress and underwear. Din’s sudden dominant actions formed a flutter in your mind, putting your thoughts into what was to come. My Stars, you wanted him to fuck you hard. So hard that it knocks all common sense out of your brain. The sudden fleeting shift of how he handled you said so.

That is when he began to enter your cunt, stretching your walls as they tightly pressed back against his cock. The feeling of him filled you up instantly, a light whimper fleeing your mouth as you handled his length. Din had a similar reaction, his grip tightening on your waist as he felt drowned by the feeling of your insides. The tightness of your cunt encouraged him to get into motion, pumping his cock out and back inside.

“Din -- fuck me.” You breathed out, your grip tightening around the bars. You prompted one leg up onto the edge of the bed, so he had more gateway into you, which aided his full length to fill your pussy. Din leaned forward, pressing his stomach into your lower back so the entirety of his cock was inside you. In measurement, you knew that once he started moving, he was big enough to hit your g-spot without a doubt. Excitement engulfed your senses, and you began to beckon him.

“Fuck me, Din -- fuck me hard.” You granted permission. His name mixed into your vulgar language made him flustered from arousal but smirk mischievously.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He groaned into your ear. And with that, Din did not hesitate to begin fucking you. Just like you wanted it, hard. His unrefined thrusts in and out of you sent your thoughts into hyperdrive. Your vision unfocused, basking in the pleasure. Just like you anticipated, the tip of Din’s cock knocked your G-spot with every thrust. Din watched as your ass jiggled from the friction, encouraging his hand to fall and smack against your backside. You gasped at the pinch of pleasure, biting your lip hard to contain yourself from screaming. Din detected your muffled sounds and was displeased. He wanted to hear you from for him. Beg for more. Say his name and plead for more pleasure. So, his hand gripped the front of your neck and seized you back, pressing your body against his. His thrust never stopping.

“Fucking beg for it.” Din demanded, “Tell me how much you want this.” He did not know what came over him in this moment, and you did not either. But you would be lying if you said you did not like this side of him.

“I- I want this so bad, Din. I need you to fuck me like this.” You choked up, feeling intoxicated as his grip around your neck lightly tightened.

“You want me to fill you with my cum, huh? Or should I cum all over your pretty little face?” Din taunted, another hand crashing down against your ass cheek which made you whimper again.

“Oh God -- come inside me. Please.” You begged, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as all your feelings conjoined into one overall feeling of complete smut. Your mind felt like a mess, like you could pass out from enjoyment. Never in all your life of service have you felt so much pleasure.

When Din’s primitive instincts deemed you pleads redeemable, his thrusts became faster as he felt his climax coming. The sound of his skins slapping against yours became a dominant sound in the room. He still held your body close to his, his hands roaming over your body, gripping your breasts, smacking your ass, wrapping his fingers around the small of your waist. God, the way he held you was stimulating enough, every touch completely possessive of your body. Din was engrossed in the shape of you, how every inch of your body fit perfectly against him. How tight your walls clenched around his cock, enchanting him to fuck you harder with each thrust.

“I’m gonna come.” Din exclaimed, “I’m gonna cum in your pretty little cunt. Got it?”

His words excited you. “Yes -- please fill me with your cum. Please, please, please.”

Din could not hold it any longer. When he felt his release, he held your hips in place and deepened his cock into you, letting your slit cockwarm him until his climax came to a close. His body collapsed onto yours, causing him to shift your body on top and sit on the edge of the bunk, placing you gently on his lap. You rested your exhausted head on his shoulder, a smile of approval appearing on your face. Din wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

“Um -- Sorry I was so rough. I dunno what came over me.” Din apologised, his tone a little bashful.

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry I enjoyed it so much.” You teasingly said, reaching your hand under his helmet to cusp his scruffy jawline. Din leaned into your touch, pressing a small kiss on your thumb.

“Now’s a good time for you to change into those clothes, huh?” Din light-heartedly said, causing you to chuckle and playfully nudge his side.

JOIN MY TAGLIST !

#sooo yeah i watched the mandalorian and i have din djaren brainrot #i wrote the majority of this last night and took me today to edit it all #god i feel sinful now lmao but we move #creepling.brainrot #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin oneshot #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #star wars #star wars smut #star wars imagine #star wars oneshot #din djarin brainrot #mask kink

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mino-diabolik · 2 years ago

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“Mystic, come closer. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Not allowing the other a single opportunity for escape, both arms entrapped Mystic in a demandingly firm embrace, immediately closing the distance between them with his lips mere inches away from a shoulder full of promise and the imminent slaking of his thirst for blood. Blood he preferred to take from the man before him, exulting in the flustered reaction he learned to cherish over time.

“Hm… It’s been a while since I’ve last done this. Won’t you let me hear it again? Those cute cries of yours…”

Two sharp fangs soon plummeted into the flesh near Mystic’s clavicle without hesitation nor mercy, the initial puncturing more brutal than the gentle wave that cascaded afterwards. Gradually he exerted less strength behind his bite, careful to only prod the tip of his ivory stakes against what felt like a vein to allow a thin stream of crimson to pour forth, blood splattering at the sight and descending his throat. Normally the Vampire would tug away at the neckline of his shirt, however, white soon gave way to a bright cherry red that only grew the longer Ruki indulged.

“Yes, you taste quite sweet indeed… So sweet that one might even question if it’s blood at all.”

A pleased chuckle escaped his besmirched lips as he finally pulled away, pivoting his head to turn to a bag he had set aside for later. One containing a lavish suit and all its usual components, tie and blazer boasting a midnight black.

“Did you really think I visited you purely with the intent of satisfying my thirst? Well, you’d be mistaken then. It seems like you desperately need a change of clothes, so I thought this gift would be appropriate after all our macabre encounters.”

As if he hadn’t just taken a considerable amount of Mystic’s life force, Ruki encouraged the other to reveal the contents of the bag with his supposed present, eagerly awaiting his reaction to the extravagant apparel.

“Go on and try it, it’s a new suit that would look very wondrous on you. Though I suppose even that wouldn’t stop me from leaving my mark on you. I do hope you enjoy it, Mystic.”

By the time Mystic processed Ruki’s words, he’d already been seized in the Vampire’s embrace. His first instinct was writhe to slip away, but the ghostly contact against his shoulder and he froze, straightening up rigorously. He shrunk in his hold at the low voice breathing words into his ear, for what he shuddered. Expectant and buoyant. “What’s with you… all of the sudden?” Despite his words, his tone was quiet and somewhat defeated, knowing well from experience that fighting would not be of much help.

The strength at which the force with which the Vampire plunged his fangs into his skin made Mystic arch his back; forgetting to hide hint of ecstasy on his expression. He brought a hand up into one of the arms holding him close against the Vampire, gripping onto the fabric of his garment. He’d know less of the blood draining into the threads of his shirt, tainting a portion of white into the deep red. The tenderness with which Ruki continued sucking his blood was nothing compared to any of their previous encounters. It was rare sentiment, with which Mystic had no trouble of dealing with.

Once liberated, Mystic let out a sigh. He straightened up, still in his right mind, surprisingly. Just then did he notice the blood that’d sipped into his clothes and he grimaced, but didn’t make up a stink about it. Still, he found it incredibly annoying.

He looked up to meet the elegant gift the Vampire had brought for him. Mystic stood in silence for a moment, both perplexed and doubtful. The last thing he had ever expected to receive from Ruki was an actual gift. The tailor of the suit was certainly exquisite, but humble enough that it was something he’d actually wear.

A smile unknowingly crept up to his lips, crumpling away the previous present annoyance in his expression. He held out his hands to receive the outfit and inspected it over with wonder. “Well, how swell. It’s been quite a while since someone… has even given me a gift.” He smiled, but it was clear that his own words had embarrassed him a pint. He shook his head and brightened up. “I’ll try it on then! Since you’ve gone to the trouble of getting it for me! Hold it here!”

The giddy Founder rushed out of the room—he was definitely not making the Mystic of even slipping off his jacket in view of Ruki—returning minutes later, fully suited. He straightened down the blazer and fixed the cuffs carefully. It was a perfect fit. Too perfect, that it was actually slightly strange. He straightened out his arms to show off his new look and grinned; eyes curving up into crescents. “How’s it look?”

#[SUIT RUKI HAS ARRIVED 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️✨✨✨]#diabolikloversoc #mystic tsukinami #ruki mukami #ruki--mukami #interaction #rp

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ddixons-angel · 4 years ago

Text

Stay

Requested by Anonymous

This is my first ever scenario request and I honestly had a lot of fun doing it haha big thanks to @twdeadfanfic for helping me out with this one and motivating me with going on, love you!!! This is probably the longest one-shot I’ve written so far, I hope you all like it!

Request - Daryl finds Reader in the woods, alone, dirty, possibly even hurt. She’s been alone so long that she’s scared of anyone she encounters. However, she’s practically glued to his side when he brings her around other people. Daryl has a hard time getting her to talk/leave the house. Fluff and angst

Mid-season 6; Alexandria

Run. That was the only thing on your mind. You just knew you had to run. It’s the only thing that kept you alive for the last few weeks, your only means of survival. You were alone in the woods, not knowing where you were going, the only thing you knew was that nowhere was safe. Without slowing down, you look over your shoulder behind you to gauge how far the dead was from you, but that was a mistake. You found yourself tumbling down to the hard ground as you tripped over a large root of a tree that stuck out of the ground. You let out an involuntary shriek when you feel your hair being grabbed, you had no doubt it was the dead when you feel the cold fingers gripping your arm. This was it. This was how you would die; getting ripped apart while screaming for your life in the middle of a forest.

“Hey, ya a’right?” a rough voice calls out to you.

It was only when you registered the voice that you realized that the dead that had grabbed you was no longer moving or trying to kill you. You look over to the dead body that lay still, there was an arrow of some sort sticking out from its skull. You get up, letting out of a breath of relief but then freeze when you remember that you weren’t alone. Your eyes dart to the figure in front of you; a man with long dark hair and icy blue eyes.

Your first instinct was to run, but your legs weren’t listening to you. They stayed planted in the ground as you felt your knees going weak. The adrenaline from running for hours and hours, days at a time without anything to eat, it was all catching up to you as you stared at the stranger who just undoubtedly saved your life. Rather than answering his first question verbally, your legs give out as you fall into a state of darkness.

---

“So... let me just get this straight...” Rick says as he pushes himself off the kitchen counter he was leaning on and turns to look at Daryl, “you brought someone back but know absolutely nothing about them?”

“Couldn’t get a chance...” Daryl says; he knew how this was going to go down the moment he decided to bring a stranger back to Alexandria with no information on who she was.

“Did you at least get a name? Or if she has a group?” Carol asks, standing by the counter with her arms crossed.

“Told ya I never got a chance to.” Daryl says, frustration evident in his voice.

“I know you’re not stupid, Daryl, but what the hell were you thinking?” Carol pesters on.

“She fainted ‘fore I could ask her anythin’!” Daryl snaps, “wha’ was I s’pposed to do? Leave her out there for the walkers to have at her? That can’t be who we are!”

“And I’m not saying that’s who we are or that you should have left her out there,” Rick says calmly, “I’m just concerned about bringing a complete stranger back, someone we know absolutely nothing about.”

“She’s jus’ a girl, Rick! We got her locked up in that house with people watchin’ over her, she ain’ dangerous, she’s jus’ hurt ‘n’ scared.” Daryl says in defense, the others could tell he was getting emotional.

“I know that, but you can’t blame people here for being worried, people are still shaken up by those Wolves that attacked us a few weeks ago. For all we know, she could be one of them.” Rick tries to reason.

“Well, she ain’.” Daryl says immediately.

“And how do you know?” Rick challenges.

“I don’ see no ‘W’ on her, do you?” Daryl asks rhetorically, “‘sides... we didn’ hesitate bringin’ in Michonne when she showed up at the prison an’ she turned out okay. No offense.”

“None taken,” Michonne chuckles softly at his apology, “why are you so adamant on keeping her here, Daryl? This isn’t like you.”

Daryl lets out a deep sigh before answering the question, “the look in her eyes jus’ before she passed out... she was scared ‘n’ alone... nothin’ bad ‘bout her... so even without askin’ her anythin’ I chose to bring her back ‘cause o’ that look... she ain’ a bad person... but guess I’m jus’ fightin’ y’all on it ‘cause I don’ wanna be wrong again.”

The looks on his friends’ faces soften at his words. They heard what happened a few weeks back when Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha had to lead the herd of walkers away from the community. Daryl ran into some people he thought were good, only to turn on him and steal his things. They all noticed that ever since then, Daryl changed. He started to doubt his own instincts and even his ability to tell who was good and who was bad.

“What if uh...” Glenn pipes in after a moment of silence, “what if we wait for her to wake up and ask her the questions, then make a decision when we hear what she has to say?”

Glenn, Michonne, Carol, and Daryl all look towards Rick, waiting for his decision. After pondering for a moment, he walks over to the kitchen counter and looks at Carol.

“Can you put together a sandwich and get a glass of water? If what Daryl said is true, the girl probably hasn’t eaten in a while, and if we want answers, we should show some sort of hospitality.” Rick says.

Carol sighs softly with a stern look on her face but nods, “okay.”

Rick nods to her as thanks then looks over to Daryl. The two lock eyes, communicating without words as they wait for Carol to prepare the food. Once they’re ready, Daryl takes the plate and glass of water and walks out of the house, following Rick to the jailhouse the community had set up for temporary confinement. Rick knocks on the door before opening it, stepping in with Daryl behind him. The two of them greet Tara as she was given the task to watch over the stranger.

“How is she?” Rick asks, stepping further into the room.

“Still out cold,” Tara informs, glancing back at the sleeping figure on the mattress.

“Well, we brought her food for when she wakes up,” Daryl says, holding up the plate and glass then he heads over to the sleeping girl and places down the meal, “I’ll take over yer shift, Tara.”

Tara nods in understanding and leaves the two of them alone with the sleeping stranger. Daryl goes to sit in the chair that was placed in the corner of the room.

“I’ll be on guard outside, call me in when she wakes up,” Rick says.

“Why ya gonna be on guard outside?” Daryl questions, a frown of confusion on his face, “think I can’t handle her?”

“It’s just in case,” Rick says just before he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Daryl sighs, he knew why Rick was keeping guard outside, he wasn’t stupid and it wasn’t that Rick underestimated his ability. Daryl knew that Rick was aware what this entire thing meant to him. What it would do to him if the stranger he believed to be good turned out to be bad.

His eyes fall back on the sleeping figure in front of him, the peaceful look on her face made his lips involuntarily twitch into a small smile. His smile turns into a frown though when he sees her hands tied up with rope.

“Dammit Rick...” he sighs, then he gets up to untie of the rope.

Daryl thought he had convinced Rick that there was no need to tie her up since she was unconscious. He told them all that she looked frail and weak, as if she hadn’t eaten for days. He thought he got through to Rick with that logic but he was wrong. Although, Daryl couldn’t blame him for being extra careful. Their community had gotten attacked by a group a few weeks back, they couldn’t take any chances.

Kneeling down, Daryl reaches out to the girl’s bound hands and gently tugs at the rope. As he begins to untie the knots, the girl shifts a bit then her eyes start to open. Daryl freezes at the movement and he looks at her face. Her eyes lock with his, looking at him with fear like a deer in headlights. She pulls her hands away and whimpers, backing away from Daryl only to hit the wall behind her.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt ya,” Daryl says quickly, holding his hands up to show her that he means no harm, “I jus’ wanted to untie yer restraints.”

She continues to stare at him, not moving or saying anything in response and Daryl isn’t quite sure what to do, not sure what exactly to tell Rick about the situation. He woke her up by trying to remove the rope Rick had originally tied as a safety precaution; yeah, he wouldn’t like the sound of that. Daryl sighs and slowly crouches down to her eye level, his hands still out.

“I found ya out in the woods, ya passed out an’ I brought ya back here,” Daryl explains, then he grabs the glass of water, “I can tell ya’ve been out there for awhile, here.”

Slowly, Daryl reaches out and offers her the glass of water. Her eyes glance at the glass then back at him, he can practically see the gears turning in her head whether or not to trust him.

“I ain’ gonna hurt ya, I promise.” Daryl says.

It seems that she heard the sincerity in his voice as Daryl sees her eyes soften. He waits patiently for her to take the glass in which she slowly but surely does. She takes the glass in both hands and she looks at it, then back at Daryl who smiles softly at her. Finally, she starts to drink from the glass. At first she’s taking small sips but her thirst catches up with her as she desperately finishes the contents of the glass within seconds. Daryl reaches out to her again to take the glass from her.

“Brought ya some food too,” he tells her, gesturing to the plate on the ground, “ya wanna let me untie ya so ya can eat?”

She still has her hands close to her chest as she contemplates Daryl’s words. He sees her lips quiver slightly, her eyes peering at the plate on the ground. She takes a few breaths before hesitantly raising her arms towards Daryl, her hands tremble as she holds them out.

“Easy now,” Daryl whispers, carefully and gently untying the rope around her wrists.

He backs away once the ropes are off, pursing his lips together as he gestures to the plate again and sits back on the chair. He watches as she timidly reaches for the sandwich, she picks it up and holds it to her mouth. She pauses, looking at Daryl as if asking him permission with her eyes. He nods at her again, a soft smile on his lips. Daryl can’t help but think that she reminded him of a lost, abandoned puppy. She carefully takes a bite of the sandwich, then another as she starts to feel a little more relaxed.

“There’s more where that came from,” Daryl tells her after she finished the sandwich, “I can get ya another if ya want.”

Before she can respond, the door to the room opens, startling her and she cowers away again with her back against the wall, afraid of Rick who had just walked in. Daryl had gotten up from his seat on the chair and stands between Rick and the girl. Rick frowns as he sees the rope on the ground.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, he’s a friend,” Daryl says gently, trying to calm her down.

“Daryl...” Rick sighs, he beckons him to come over, “you untied her?”

“Ya said to show her some hospitality,” Daryl says.

“I also said to call me when she wakes up,” Rick retorts, he then sighs again, “did you ask her the questions? She tell you anything?”

“Nah, she jus’ finished eatin’. Look at her, she’s scared, man.” Daryl says, gesturing towards her; she had that deer in the headlights look again as she stares at the two.

Rick ponders for a moment then nods pointedly towards her, “alright, let’s ask her now then, are you okay with that?”

Daryl purses his lips and nods. The two make their way towards the girl again and she watches them, mainly Rick, warily. Rick takes the chair and sets it down in front of her before sitting on it as Daryl stands idly behind him. He notices that she flinches at Rick’s every movement as if afraid that he was going to hit her.

“My name is Rick Grimes,” he starts, “now, I’m gonna ask you a few questions and I want you to answer me as honest as you can, can you do that?”

She stares at him, not blinking, her eyes hard again showing her distrust for Rick, and when she stays silent, he continues, “how many walkers have you killed?”

Daryl waits anxiously for her to answer, he chews his bottom lip, nervous when she doesn’t respond. She just continues to stare at Rick.

“I’m gonna ask you again, how many walkers have you killed?” Rick repeats, seemingly running out of patience.

After another moment of complete silence from the stranger, Rick huffs and gets up from the chair. Daryl steps to him putting his hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“Lemme try, a’right?” Daryl says softly.

Rick sighs and nods, stepping back to let Daryl try with the questioning. Daryl carefully kneels down instead of sitting on the chair, catching the girl’s attention again. Her eyes seem to soften when she looks at him.

“Ya a’right?” Daryl asks, his voice gentle, he continues when he sees her nod shyly, “I’m sorry ‘bout him, he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

Rick furrows his brows at this, not in annoyance, rather in confusion. Daryl has never been like this to a complete stranger before, he was always serious when interrogating new people. This is the first time he’s been so lightheartedly joking around with someone and if the circumstances were different, Rick would be teasing him about it.

“‘M gonna ask ya some questions, a’right? An’ I want ya to be as honest as possible, if ya do that for me, maybe I can get ya another sandwich,” Daryl says, nodding pointedly to the empty plate.

The girl bites her lips together in hesitation but then she nods again. Rick crosses his arms as he watches, an impressed smirk forms on his lips.

“How many walkers have ya killed?” Daryl asks, he catches the look of confusion in her eyes at the term they’d all become used to, “the walkers out there, the dead, how many have ya killed?”

She furrows her brows once she understands the question, she shrugs then lets out a small whisper, “a lot.”

“Wha’ ‘bout people?” Daryl asks, “how many people have ya killed?”

There’s a look in her eyes when she hears his question that Daryl isn’t quite sure how to describe. It was a mix of hurt, fear, and guilt. It was a look that told him that she had definitely killed at least one person. Tears well up in her eyes, as if she was reliving the memory.

She takes a deep breath before whispering again, “one...”

“Why?” Daryl asks the last question, furrowing his brow in concern at her body language.

She looks away from him, cowering back again and her arms wrap around her own body in a protective hug, her hands grasp tightly to the fabric of her shirt. Daryl sighs at the sight of this then he turns to look at Rick; both of them knew exactly what her body language meant and why she had to kill. The two men communicate without words then Daryl turns his attention back to the girl.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice soft, “what I promised ya before, ‘bout not hurtin’ ya, I meant it. I ain’ gonna hurt ya, none o’ us will.”

She looks at Daryl again, her eyes watery but there was that same softness in them that told him that she trusted him. She nods, her grasp on her clothing loosening slightly. Daryl gives her a small smile then turns to look at Rick.

“Can ya go an’ bring Denise here?” Daryl asks him.

Rick opens his mouth to speak but then decides against it, trusting Daryl and his instincts. Rick nods then heads out to find the community’s doctor. Daryl looks back at the girl who’s now staring at him.

“Ya got a name?” Daryl asks, “‘cause I don’ wanna just keep calling ya ‘girl’.”

A hint of a smile tugs at her lips at his attempt at humoring her, she whispers, “Y/N.”

“You’re gonna be safe here with us, Y/N.” Daryl tells her, “I ain’ gonna let anyone hurt ya.”

Daryl didn’t know what made him say those words to her. From what he could remember, he’s never said those kinds of words to anyone, not out loud at least. He’s always been the type to say those words through actions, but there was something about Y/N that made Daryl feel the need to convince her that they were good; for some reason, he needed her to know that.

It seemed as though his words got through to her as her smile grew slightly and she nods at him, trusting his word. Unfortunately, her smile was replaced by another look of fear when there was a sudden knock on the door. Daryl quickly glances over to the door as it opens; it was Denise. He looks back over at Y/N who has yet again put up defensive walls, wary of another stranger now in the room.

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s okay, she’s a friend, a doctor, she’s here to help ya,” Daryl says in a soft voice before getting up to greet Denise.

“Hey,” Denise smiles at him, “uh, Rick said you sent for me?”

“Yeah, the girl I brought back, Y/N, was hopin’ ya could make sure she’s okay. She also has some cut ‘r somethin’ on her left forearm,” Daryl tells her, he’d taken note of the dried blood on her sleeve.

“I figured it was something like that,” Denise says with a smile, showing her medkit she’d brought with her, she then goes over to Y/N who is staring at her warily, “hi, I’m Denise.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything in response to her friendly introduction, instead she cowers away. Her body language clearly telling Denise that she does trust her and to stay away. Denise furrows her brows at this but she takes no offense as she heard from Rick that she must have been outside for a long time alone.

“Y/N,” Daryl makes his way over to her, he crouches down to her eye level, “she’s helped a lot ‘o people, even me, she’s a good person.”

Denise furrows her brows when she takes notice of how Y/N’s expression changes when she looks at Daryl. Her eyes were soft and trusting, as if allowing only Daryl to see a completely vulnerable side to her. A smile reaches Denise’s face when she gets an idea.

“Daryl,” she calls out to get his attention, “I think you should treat her.”

He turns to look at her with a confused look on his face, “wha’?”

Denise sighs at his ability to be so oblivious then beckons him to come closer so she can explain, “she trusts you, Daryl, way more than she trusts me, you can see that just by the way she looks at you compared to me. I’ll take a look at her wounds, but if she needs stitches, you’re going to have to be the one to do them, I’ll only end up hurting her if I stitch her up while she’s tense.”

Daryl purses his lips together, nodding as he understands what Denise was saying, “a’right.”

“Don’t worry though,” Denise pats his shoulder, a teasing smile on her face, “I’ll still be here to guide you through it.”

He scoffs playfully at her then he goes back to Y/N’s side, crouching down beside her again, “Denise is gonna take a look at yer arm, okay? Jus’ to make sure it ain’ infected, then I’ll help ya patch it up.”

Y/N bites her lips together, glancing down at her arms then back at Daryl. Her eyes told him that she wasn’t quite sure how Daryl knew about her injury, but she nods in agreement to his words. Slowly but surely, she pulls up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing a gash. Denise carefully takes a step closer to see the wound and Y/N flinches at the movement. She stares at Denise then glances at Daryl who nods at her encouragingly. She hesitantly extends her arm towards Denise so that she can examine her wound. Denise raises both of her hands to show that she means her no harm then takes another step towards the mattress.

“It doesn’t seem to be infected, which is a really good thing. And it doesn’t look that deep so I don’t think you’ll need stitches either,” Denise says with a smile after examining the wound, “the only part that might hurt is when Daryl has to disinfect the wound, but other than that, you’ll be okay. Now, do you have any other injuries we should know about?”

Y/N shakes her head at the question and Daryl smiles softly at her, then gestures to Denise, “told ya she’s a good person.”

Denise chuckles then hands Daryl her medkit, “I’ll leave this with you, I trust you know how to patch up a simple wound without messing up too badly?”

He rolls his eyes at her then scoffs, “yeah, I done it enough times.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Denise laughs then walks towards the door, but then she turns to Y/N as she remembers something, “by the way, if you end up feeling sick or feverish in any way, you have to let Daryl know right away, that could be a sign that your wound got infected by his dirty hands.”

“Jus’ go a’ready!” Daryl scoffs making Denise laugh at his reaction just before she leaves the building, he looks back at Y/N, “I won’ give ya an infection...”

“I know.” she says in a slight whisper.

Daryl smiles at this then places the medkit on the ground. He opens it and takes out an alcohol swab, tearing open the small packet then looks at Y/N. She seems to know what he wants as she extends her arm towards him.

He gently takes hold of her arm, “this might sting a bit.”

He begins to gently dab at the wound, cleaning off the dried blood and dirt on her skin. He furrows his brows when Y/N winces at the sting. Daryl proceeds to blow onto the wound to try and soothe the pain. Once he’s done cleaning the wound, he dresses it with a bandage.

“How’s that feel?” he asks her, leaning back a bit to give her some space.

She looks down at the bandage and a small smile tugs at her lips before she looks up at Daryl, “a lot better... thank you.”

Daryl returns her smile and nods, a small moment of silence passes when he dares to pose his next question, “do ya have a group?”

He watches as her brows furrow in confusion at his words so Daryl tries to word his question differently, “do ya have a camp or a group ya stayed with?”

Finally understanding his question, Y/N shakes her head, “no... I did but... I lost them...”

“‘M sorry...” Daryl says, he purses his lips, seeming nervously shy, “did ya wanna stay here? We got food, water, walls, ya’ll be safe here.”

Y/N bites her lips together as if unsure how to answer, “...can I?”

“Yeah, we got a few houses we can spare, won’t be a problem,” Daryl says, “so ya jus’ gotta tell me if ya wanna stay, I ain’t gonna force ya if ya don’t wanna.”

Although he hadn’t spoken with Rick on the matter of Y/N staying yet, he was sure that their leader would be accepting of it after seeing her. Daryl was sure Rick could see that Y/N wasn’t a threat to their community. He watches as she carefully contemplates her choices then finally she looks up at him with a soft smile and nods.

“I want to stay... with you.” she says shyly.

Daryl couldn’t help the shy smile that tugs on his lips, he also couldn’t help the blood rushing to his face as he blushes at her words, “a’right... let me jus’ talk to Rick, figure out where ya can stay. Wait here”

With that, he gets up and heads for the door. Just before he leaves the room, he turns and gives her another reassuring smile.

---

You stayed sat on the mattress in the room for what felt like a few hours, obediently waiting for Daryl to come back. You trusted Daryl. You didn’t know why but there was just something about him that made you believe that you could trust him. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or how he did his best to make sure that you felt comfortable. You couldn’t explain it, and it wasn’t like you trusted easily either. You didn’t get the same sense of comfort when Daryl’s friend, Rick, came by and started interrogating you. You didn’t even feel that safe when the doctor, Denise, came to help you, and she looked completely harmless, although you had to learn the hard way to not judge a book by its cover.

With everything you’ve been through though, you couldn’t help but feel jumpy or nervous and that proved to still be the case when there was a knock on the door. The end of the world forced you to always be on high alert, but you found yourself relaxing when you saw Daryl walk back into the room. There was a feeling in your heart that confused you when you saw him, as if you were happy that he came back to you. As if you missed him. That was a feeling that felt so foreign to you, but you couldn’t help it.

“Ya a’right?” Daryl asks, crouching down again, he continues when you nod, “I talked to Rick, an’ he talked to some o’ the others. They’re okay with ya stayin’.”

You smile at his words. It was only then that you realized just how much you wanted to stay in this place. How much you wanted to stay with Daryl.

“C’mon, I’ll show ya ‘round an’ where ya’ll be stayin’.” Daryl says as he stands up, holding his hand out for you.

You glance at his hand then back at him. Carefully, you reach up and take his outreached hand and he gently helps you stand. His other hand hovering around your body to make sure you don’t fall. Once you’re steadily on your feet, he guides you out of the house. You have to shield your eyes from the intense rays of the sun at first but once your eyes adjusted to the light, you gasp lightly in disbelief.

This place was.... Incredible. You never thought you’d ever see a place like this, not after the world ended. It felt as if you went back in time when the dead didn’t roam the Earth, this place was like one of those suburbs with huge houses you could only dream of affording.

You look over at Daryl when you hear him let out a soft chuckle. He must have caught your bewildered expression as you ogled at your surroundings. You look down at the ground, shy and embarrassed as you blush.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging at your hand gently.

He must have sensed that you were embarrassed as he didn’t comment on the look on your face. You follow him around, trying to ignore the growing butterflies in your stomach as Daryl holds your hand. He points out the house that he’s staying in as the two of you walk by it. You feel slightly shy as you spot some of the people watching you walk with Daryl. By the sly smiles on their faces, you were sure it was because the two of you were holding hands.

“Infirmary’s over there,” Daryl says, pulling you out of your thoughts as he points over to the house where you see Denise sitting on the porch reading, “if ya need anythin’ or yer arm starts to act up, ya can go an’ find Denise, she’ll help ya out.”

You smile and nod at Daryl in acknowledgement then continue to follow him around until he stops in front of one of the large houses.

“This one’s yers.” he tells you, making you gawk at him.

“Mine?” you question, not believing it.

When Daryl said that they’d figure out where you could stay, you thought you would have a room that you shared with someone, not an entire house to yourself.

“Yeah, we got a few houses to spare... if ya don’ like it, ya can look at one o’ the other free ones,” Daryl bites his lip nervously, as if he was afraid you wouldn’t like it.

You quickly shake your head, “no, it’s not that I don’t like it... I just... didn’t think...”

You trail off as you look at the large house in front of you, slightly intimidated. Daryl seems to sense this as well as he gently tugs at your hand again, then he nods pointedly towards the house. You understand his intent and begin to step towards the house. You walk up the porch slowly, continuously taking hesitant glances back at Daryl to make sure he’s still following behind you; he had let go of your hand, much to your dismay.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly open the door to the house. Although you knew that the house was empty, part of you still expected to be greeted by snarls and growls of the dead. You guessed that being on your own and running from the dead for weeks would do that to you.

“Wow...” you say breathlessly as you step into the house.

This wasn’t just a house, this was a mansion. Even just looking at the kitchen, it was twice as big as any room you stayed in, before and after the world ended. It looked to be fully furnished, clean, completely untouched by the outside world. You had a hard time believing your eyes as you looked around in awe.

“Is this... real?” you hear yourself wonder out loud.

“It is,” Daryl says from behind you and you turn to look at him, he smiles softly at you, “ya like it?”

You return his smile and nod, “I do... thank you.”

There’s a sort of sweet silence between you two before Daryl clears his throat, maybe he felt awkward, “I’ll leave ya to it, get settled ‘r somethin’...”

You feel your heart drop at his words, something you haven’t felt in a long time, “what?”

“I showed ya where my place is, if ya need me, I’ll be there.” Daryl nods and he begins to turn to leave.

A slight panic rises in your chest when you see him turn. You didn’t want him to go, you didn’t want to be alone. It was true that you were safe in a community, surrounded by walls and protected from the dead, but you were still afraid of being left alone.

Before Daryl could leave, you quickly step to him and reach out, your fingers clutching onto his. He turns around to face you again, a confused look on his face. You notice his eyes soften when he looks at you.

“Please don’t go...” you say in a small voice, “please stay...”

Daryl purses his lips together, not sure of what to say. You can tell that he’s thinking of what to do. You were sure that he was trying to think of a way to tell you that he shouldn’t stay. You were practically begging him with your eyes.

“Okay.” Daryl says with a shy smile after a moment of silence.

You couldn’t help the smile on your face at his words. Daryl had agreed to stay with you. He had saved your life, brought you back to his community and given you a home. On top of everything he already did for you, he even agreed to stay with you. Even if you had just met him that day, you knew that he would be able to keep you safe. And for the first time in a really, really long time, you finally felt safe.

---

This was one of my very first attempts at writing in Daryl’s perspective so I hope I did it justice! Please let me know what you thought about this one, I personally loved writing it haha

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!):

#Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #Daryl Dixon Imagine #Daryl Dixon X Reader #Daryl Dixon X You #Daryl Dixon & Reader #Daryl Dixon/Reader #TWD Fanfic #TWD #TWD Fanfiction #TWD Imagine #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead Fanfic #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Imagine

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pokemoncreepypasta · 3 years ago

Text

My Shining Star

[STORY SOURCE]

Up until some recent events, I used to be an aspiring shiny hunter. Technically I was pretty good at it, too, at least by encounter standards. But even though I was great at finding my fair share of shiny Pokémon , I’ve never been able to keep any of them.

The first one of these shiny Pokémon I found was by a random encounter. I’d gotten lost in Rock Tunnel after forgetting to bring Flash, and spent so long in there that I ran out of Repels. Just as I was giving up hope that I’d be able to escape on my first run, she appeared.

I knew about shiny Pokémon, but hadn't ever thought I'd encounter one of my own in the wild. I was unprepared, and after a moment of staring in surreal wonder, I concentrated on figuring out how to catch her with my limited supplies. Thankfully it wasn't very hard, and soon I had my first legit shiny.

I normally wasn't creative with naming my Pokémon, but I wanted her to have a special name. I asked my mom for help, and she suggested "Star." I liked it, but the name itself seemed short and boring, so I added a couple stars to the ends to give her name a little flair.

I was beyond excited to put my first shiny into my team, and plowed through the rest of the cave. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, and I had to get out to the nearest PC, because I knew a shiny baby Cubone was waiting for me to adopt her.

I quickly fell in love with the little green dinosaur, and soon she was the shining star of my team. I used her more than my starter, and neglected the rest of my party a bit in the process, but still made it through the game alright. Setbacks didn't matter when I had a shiny.

Lots of time and multiple trips through the Elite Four later, I proudly turned ★Star★ into a level 100 Marowak. She was the first Pokémon I ever raised to level 100, and I couldn't have been prouder of her.

It had been a couple years, and I was starting to feel unsatisfied with just ★Star★. I was itching for more, and felt like I probably should have found some other random encounters by now, with all the time I'd spent playing.

Feeling inspired by all the shiny hunter videos I'd been binging on YouTube, I decided to start taking up shiny hunting. I was feeling ambitious, and decided to go straight to hunting for a shiny legendary Pokémon. I was a weird player who didn't really bother going after the birds or Mewtwo in my HeartGold, since I planned on transferring up my legends from my LeafGreen. I decided to rework ★Star★'s moveset for capturing legendary Pokémon.

The moveset I settled on was Bonemerang, False Swipe, Stone Edge, and Swords Dance. I decided to keep her moveset mostly offensive because she was still a member of my team, and not just a shiny-catcher. I planned on replacing False Swipe with Aerial Ace at some point, but I never got the chance to.

I decided to pick Mewtwo as my target. Lots of people find green shiny Pokémon overbearing and unattractive, but ★Star★ made me fond of them. Plush, Mewtwo was awesome, and I thought the two of them would look great together.

I spoke to ★Star★ aloud, saying, "Are you ready to do some shiny hunting, ★Star★?"

"★Star★ let out a roar!"

I thought she was just as enthusiastic as me.

I made it to Mewtwo, saved my game, and started the tedious process of soft resetting.

I’ll spare the details of how long it took, but eventually I came across the sparkling green Mewtwo.

I led with my team's Ampharos to paralyze it, and switched to ★Star★.

I remember being very lucky with this fight at first, with Mewtwo being fully paralyzed every turn.

I used Swords Dance to fully buff ★Star★'s attack stat so False Swipe would do as much damage as possible.

But even though I swore that I had chosen to use False Swipe, ★Star★ proceeded to use Bonemerang.

Shocked, confused and distressed, I watched as ★Star★ mercilessly beat the shiny Mewtwo down, knocking it out in one hit with her increased stats.

I felt crushed and dejected as I went back to the overworld. I blamed myself, thinking I had misclicked the wrong move and killed the Mewtwo myself. In my wave of disbelief, I absentmindedly talked to ★Star★.

"★Star★ is green with envy!"

I decided to go back to square one and start over.

A dozen thousand resets later, I saw it sparkle again and I was shaking with anticipation. Part of me felt twitchy and paranoid, like I should have used my Master Ball right away.

I decided against it because I wanted to hunt the birds later, but decided that if the Mewtwo seemed like it would run low on moves, then I'd use it as a last resort.

I probably should have listened to my guts though, because the same thing happened all over again. I knew for certain this time that I had chosen False Swipe, but the game purposefully made ★Star★ use Bonemerang. I saw it completely clear.

After seeing the Mewtwo go down a second time, I just cursed and slammed my desk a bit. I glared accusingly at my Marowak.

I decided to put my shiny hunting on hold. I used an Escape Rope to leave, and decided to place ★Star★ in the PC, quarantining her in an empty box for a time-out.

As I dejectedly hunted for a third time, I thought to myself what was wrong with my game. I wondered if it was just glitchy, or if I was misinterpreting the situation. I decided to convince myself that it was a mistake on the game's part; otherwise I wouldn't have been able to handle killing the Mewtwo twice in a row.

Finally, it sparkled one last time. I decided not to screw around while reclaiming this shiny. I had hunted it twice before, and decided to just use the Master Ball on it.

I had earned this.

After the initial rush of finally obtaining the shiny, I decided not to nickname it until I thought of something good, and watched as it got sent to the PC. I excitedly saved my game, and made my way out of the cave and to the nearest Pokémon Center.

But when I got there, the Mewtwo wasn't anywhere to be seen.

I shouted curses in confusion as I scrolled through every box in a state of denial. Where did it go, what could I have possibly done? I thought of all the ways I couldn't possibly messed up, did I have an evil hacked Pokémon from the GTS that deleted it, was this actually a bootleg game and Nintendo's anti-piracy revenge was to delete my legendary?

After a few minutes of searching, I gave up. My Mewtwo was gone.

I scrolled back to ★Star★'s isolated box and looked at my only green shiny in mourning. Obviously it wasn't something wrong with just her, but the game itself. In a game as glitchy as this, I was seriously worried that I might lose her, too.

After looking at her for a bit, it seemed like she might've been looking at me? I wasn't sure if she was supposed to do that, but in a game that was acting up like this, I didn't doubt it.

I took her out of the PC and put her at the front of my party to talk to her, to see if anything else was up.

"★Star★ nodded slowly."

She only did more random friendly things after that. Quite chipper for someone whose life might be threatened, I thought.

I decided to trade her over to Platinum for safe keeping. I wasn't sure what to do about the rest of my Pokémon on HeartGold, but ★Star★ was the most important one to me right now.

As I traded her over, I noticed that her eyes were red now, instead of the green I was just looking at. I was off-put by this inconsistency, especially with the recent events surrounding her. I forced myself to brush it off, however, notice I could do about it.

Even though I had an unfortunate experience with my HeartGold, my thirst for more shinies still persisted. Maybe it was the fact I had lost my shiny three times that I really had to fill the void, now. A couple weeks later, I found out about a method of shiny hunting called chaining, and wanted to try it out. I felt a little more at ease, since if you accidentally killed a shiny with this method, the chain wouldn't break, and you could keep going. Plus, Platinum should've been fine.

I chose Route 208, as it had a good selection of Pokémon for me to choose from. I wasn't picky, so I just started chaining whatever Pokémon I liked until I got a decent chain. I heard that the shiny odds max out at a chain of 40, so after that you can just keep resetting the radar until the grass sparkles.

I landed on Roselia, and sent out my shining star Marowak.

I started with False Swipe, since I wouldn't need to buff up ★Star★ for a LV. 19 Pokémon.

"★Star★ used Swords Dance!"

Oh no.

I panicked as memories of the last incident came flooding back, and how it had started out with her disobeying. Not giving her a chance to kill it, I frantically switched to the items menu to start throwing PokéBalls instead.

(Name omitted for personal reasons.)

I had plenty of them, so I stared throwing Ultra Balls, since they had the highest odds. At least one of these would probably work.

" blocked the Ball!"

"Don't !"

I tried throwing one, but it failed, as if I tried using it on a trainer's Pokémon.

I had no idea what in the world was going on, what could be stopping me from catching a wild Pokémon? Was my Platinum glitched out too? Was I cursed??

I tried using different balls, but nothing would work.

Eventually, I ran out of PokéBalls to throw. I'd failed the shiny.

Frustrated, but not enough to kill the Roselia, I fled the battle.

I had no idea what to do after that, and was exasperated. I wanted to berate myself, and that I should've tried test catching a normal Pokémon in Platinum first to make sure it was going to work okay. But really, how was I supposed to know that was going to happen? And always, conveniently when I was in the middle of hunting a shiny. I thought of berated my parents instead, if they had bought all my Pokémon games for me on eBay.

Was it really my games, thought? I don't even know if you can trade Pokémon from fake games. Was it my DS could it have been hacked? Can you even bootleg a DS? I tried going to the Internet for answers, and read some Reddit and random Pokémon forum posts about glitches and bootlegs for an hour, but gave up without finding a real conclusion.

So, I'd given up hunting for some time. But, I hadn't gotten tired of Pokémon. I bought Black for myself, and played through the story just fine.

I found out you could get a Shiny Charm if you completed the Pokédex. That made me excited, until I remembered my past luck. Was it worth trying again?

Shortly after transferring up all my Pokémon, I decided, yes. It was. I went for the hatching method this time, since the Pokémon ends up right in your party afterwards- no catching, no PC transfer. It would be my final test, and if THIS didn't work, I would officially give up on ever getting nice things.

Foreign Ditto in hand, I went to work. I went for a shiny Flygon, since they were one of the best looking, and it'd be a nice addition to my competitive team.

One long hunt and a really late night later, eyelids barely able to stay open, I saw it.

I'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Skipping the nickname, I rushed to immediately save my game, wasting no time. I checked my party to see my Trapinch was still there, and chalked it up as a success. I was an official shiny hunter now.

Since ★Star★ was level 100, I figured she could battle for my baby Trapinch until she could hold her own in battle. I only wanted to take her up a few levels, so I could personally train her afterwards. Just raising her immediately into a Flygon would be too soon.

I attached an Exp. Share to her, and started running around in the tall grass. After a little bit of grinding, my Trapinch made it up to level 8 before I accidentally stepped into the thick grass and triggered a wild double battle.

Knowing the wild Pokémon were too strong for the underleveled baby Trapinch, I wanted to flee, but I first noticed ★Star★'s sprite as it asked me what to do.

The end of her bone facing the wild Pokémon was no longer symmetrical, being sharpened at the end of it. I'd seen her sprite enough times to know it wasn't supposed to look like this.

I tried to flee, but it failed.

"★Star★ used Swords Dance!"

"The wild Pidove is watching carefully!"

"The wild Patrat is watching carefully!"

"Trapinch is watching carefully!"

★Star★ had started using moves on her own. Stunned, I tried to switch out.

"★Star★ can't be switched out!"

Giving up, I told ★Star★ to use Stone Edge on the Pidove, and told the Trapinch to use Bite on Patrat.

"★Star★ ignored orders!"

"★Star★ used Bonemerang!"

I gasped as she struck my Trapinch instead.

"★Star★ is green with envy!"

As soon as I read that text, it hit me. This wasn't any ordinary friendly fire.

"Trapinch fainted!"

It finally allowed me to run, so I immediately tapped the button and rushed to my party to see the damage.

My Trapinch was gone.

I tried resetting to bring her back, but it was hopeless. My shiny new baby had been murdered.

Connecting all the dots in my head, I realized the reason I'd failed every encounter was because of ★Star★.

My grief and fear quickly turned into outrage. I couldn't believe she'd done this to me. She'd made me suffer hunt after hunt, just to take every shiny away from me.

This was the source of my games acting strange, and I knew there was only one way to correct it.

Feeling rash, I rushed over to the PC and hovered over the "Release" option for a few minutes.

"★Star★ was released."

It hurt to let her go, but I didn't want my game behaving strangely with her around.

"★Star★ came back!"

"★Star★ will never leave you."

But she refused.

Resorting to desperate measures, I did the only other thing I could think of.

I traded the stubborn Marowak over to my nearly empty White version that I never got around to playing, and deleted the save file.

"Deleting all saved data... Don’t turn off the power."

"★Star★ will n"

Sayonara, ★Star★.

After deleting the save file, I thought things would start working like they should. Sometimes, I'd replay other Pokémon games just for the fun of it, hoping I'd find other shiny Pokémon with ★Star★ gone.

Almost comically, I somehow thought it would be a good idea to go full circle and try hunting on HeartGold for a shiny starter. I had heard from other shiny hunters that it was an easy hunt, and it was, only taking a few days.

I affectionately named him "Chico."

My first step into the tall grass, and...

"★Star★ is green with envy!"

I had never been so unhappy to see a shiny.

I guess she's been out in the wild all these months. And looking at her sprite, I can only wonder what she's been up to. I wonder how she feels to see me again?

Oh, no.

“Can’t escape!”

"★Star★ used Bonemerang!"

"Chico fainted!"

Of course, Chico was no match.

The game froze after I blacked out.

I figure it was because ★Star★ killed my only Pokémon.

"The save file is corrupted. The previous save file will be loaded."

My save file, corrupted with the loss of my starter's data, brought me back right to this spot that I was all too familiar with. Through frustrated tears, I begrudgingly went to pick a normal starter so I could play the game normally.

“I dare you to love again.”

And I’ve never found a shiny since.

#Pokepasta #Pokemon Creepypasta #Marowak #My Shining Star

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belit0 · 3 years ago

Text

Commission for @GlitterBomba!

Part 2 of this!! I don't feel it's as angsty as it should be, but for some reason, my creativity wanted it that way? It's been a long time since I've last written, and this was definitely a challenge... First part was produced way too long ago, so it was also challenging to connect with what I felt when I wrote it! But here it is, and I hope you like it, GlitterBomba. Thanks for trusting me!

My Ko-fi page~ Buy me a coffee if anyone wants part 3 ❤（っ＾▿＾）

It took you days to awaken from your deep sleep, days which became weeks, and weeks transformed into months. There was no hope for your life among the healers, but the tenacity and insistence of those elders who saved you forced them to continue providing methods and energy, herbs, talismans to keep you breathing.

Impossible to explain how that mortal blow did not steal your last breath, not when the perpetrator was the greatest tyrant in the current world, the monster everyone learned to fear and flee from. In the small place where you are kept hidden, rumor has it the treacherous one repented as soon as his hand affected your body, causing you not to succumb immediately.

It wasn’t until after he vanished, shrouded in lightning and hatred, when one of Ashura’s subordinates came upon the scene of your sad fate. A pool of blood acting as a bed over a pale body, devoid of any warmth and life. Everyone was quick to write you off for dead after such an event, and only when one of the village elders took your pulse did he find your incredible attempt to resist despite all odds.

Keeping you along with the new leader and his people would not be a good idea. Not when you barely escaped with your life from the beast. In case he came back and besieged his younger brother, it would be better if he didn’t find you there. That man proved to have an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

Tempting fate once is more than enough.

That led a group of elderly men, those who defended your slight pulse when everyone thought you were dead, to ask Ashura’s permission before disappearing and taking you to a safe place, making use of some of the village healers to ensure your health. 8 men of different ages vanish with you, swearing on their lives to do everything possible for you to open your eyes again.

Winters turned into warm seasons, and autumn leaves were waning. Two whole years quickly go by before your consciousness returns. The world is different. You understand through your guardians that life passed with you as a ghostly presence, a bedridden legend they fought all this time to preserve.

No one mentions what happened to you, though. No one names him.

To everyone’s surprise, you don’t really ask about the village; you don’t ask about your birthplace and your home. You don’t ask... about him.

Your healers discover you memory was damaged after exhaustive examinations beyond your comprehension. Theories why this happened are various in your little home; some argue the loss of blood hurt your brain, others believe the trauma of that betrayal forced you to block it all out, and there are those who think maybe you ignored the past on purpose.

Still, there is an unspoken rule forbidding the mention of what happened, of the village, of those two brothers. After experiencing hell, what would be the benefit of forcibly bringing you back to that horrible past? In this remote place, you have the chance to start from scratch, and your rescuers believe it is the least you deserve.

Little by little, you gradually learn everything all over again. Your own name, your age, information about those around you. You ask with animosity about everything you don’t understand, and the only thing there is reluctance to answer is when you want to know about who you were before... this.

Healers get the problem off their shoulders, rushing you to ask such questions to the older people. They shoo you out of their humble hut with nervousness and red faces, panic in their eyes.

Seniors sigh as they stare into nothingness, sadness and nostalgia, painting their countenances with something you cannot grasp. Some even drop a couple of tears to the rhythm of a depressing whisper, “oh poor child...”

The scene makes you feel so guilty you end up consoling them, assuring it’ s not a big deal and you don’t need to be told. That your life in this small place with them is all you need to be happy, past or no past.

Regardless, it is the scar monstrously painting your stomach which makes you uneasy. While tracing the edges of that sensitive skin with your fingertips, you feel its reason for existence is on the tip of your tongue. As if reminders of what happened to you are lingering there, buried in your head, but creeping closer to your memory every time you look at your navel.

What happened? What terrible thing could have left such an enormous mark on your skin, but not in your head?

It’s frustrating.

Eventually, curiosity to explore beyond your own narrow world peaks. It’s quite natural, considering four older men and four medicine buffs rarely make for an interesting group of company. Older men drink tea most of the day, when they’re not napping in the sun, of course. The rest read rigorously and debate among themselves about their newly gained knowledge.

Getting permission is a complicated task. They are terribly afraid of your departure, scared of your fate, frightened of what dangers you might encounter.

But how to keep you there forever, when you have seen the vivid movement the closest town has?

Perhaps it was your rescuers’ mistake for allowing you to go exploring within the boundaries they considered safe, yet you inevitably discovered such a place, so close and yet so far away, so full of people and... life. Persons of all ages walking from one side to the other, food you never saw before displayed in various stalls, children playing with each other, unaware of the surrounding universe. Everything looks completely natural, as if folks are used to this kind of lifestyle since long ago, and you wonder if you ever lived in a similar environment.

Just what hides in your past?

After insistence and great pleas against the overprotection imparted on you, they understand it is simply hopeless to make you give up your idea unless they expose all those shocking events, unless they explain from what kind of danger it is necessary for you to hide, from whom it is imperative you escape.

No one knew anymore about that demon after his disappearance the same day, and it is uncertain where he is. Whether he is hiding or far from your current home, it is unknown to anyone, and it would invoke bad luck if your guardians expected you to meet him face to face once you get away from them.

Preparation of weeks and many directions, you finally depart from your unnoticed hideout in the world, leaving behind anxious seniors and worried healers.

It was agreed you could explore for a couple of months, but your eventual return is a binding closure on the deal you reluctantly struck. Each new destination brings with it new discoveries, tastes, experiences. You always find charitable souls willing to help when you are short of food, water or shelter, people who offer to give directions when you get disoriented, people who share stories with you on lonely, nostalgic nights.

With each step you take in the outside world, less you understand what your guardians are afraid of. Everyone is well meaning, and no one seeks to take advantage of your innocence. It is incomprehensible why this was denied to you for so long, and every time you think of your precious little home, an emptiness grows in your heart.

Weeks slowly pass, and having experienced so much in such a short time, you find the need to recount it to those you consider your family. As initially agreed, it may be time to return, to prove the world is not as terrible as they feared.

A few miles from homeland, just as you feel you are walking the grounds of your family again, you stop at a stream to get a drink of water, determined not to slow down until you reach your destination. It is too much of a thrill to witness those 8 insane people bickering and arguing. You absentmindedly smile as you rinse your face.

In your distraction, you cannot hear footsteps approaching at your back. It’s not like you would have detected them if you were paying attention either, for the person stalking you is deliberately careful, calculating.

Turning, your face affects directly into a solid mass of muscle, sending you tumbling down the riverbank again. Any woman would have assumed the worst when connecting glances with a man who invades her personal space unannounced, but from your mouth comes a concerned “Are you okay?”

The man, who is watching you as if a ghost were sitting next to you in the water and you were unaware of it, bleeds. Profusely, indeed. Both of his hands are deeply cut, distinct wounds on his palms dripping thickly to the ground.

There is no answer to your question, and the man’s countenance is difficult to decipher. His eyes glow a red which fades too quickly to analyze, his complexion is completely pale and unhealthy, his hair points in all directions, forming a long brown tangle which you deduce has not been combed for some time. For moments, it is as if there are words trying to pierce his lips, but the stupor of the individual continues.

“Your hands... we really should take care of them, shouldn’t we? Aiya, let this humble one help you heal.”

There is no reaction as you stand up and take him by the arm, guiding him to a large rock away from the water and helping him to sit up. His gaze is still completely fixed on your face, searching for something you’ re oblivious to. His mouth opens and closes rapidly, agitated breaths accompanied by sounds resembling syllables.

“Look at this mess alone... sir, you should be cautious walking along the bed of these waters. They are treacherous, hm?”

Ripping off one of your sleeves, previously dampened when you fell into the water, you use the cloth to clean his wounds. There’s not much you can do here, out in the open and in these conditions, but judging by the man’s appearance, he was probably recently attacked. When you mention your little home a few miles away, the man doesn’t refuse or accept.

Still, when you head back to the road, you find the fellow following you from behind, head down and staring at the ground. In his hands he tightly clenches the cloth of your sleeve, and blood stains the fabric completely at this point. You talk about the healers in your place, and how they can help him get better, but no matter how much you try, the man never responds. You ponder whether, perhaps, the situation he experienced before he ran into you may have been intense, and you attribute his perturbation to that.

After walking without pause all afternoon, your silent companion always keeping your own pace, your destination appears in front of you. From afar, you can see the elders sitting on the engawa of their cottage, sharing tea and quietly waiting for dusk. All is silent, and your announcement of arrival is the only thing disturbing the atmosphere.

Your arms wave vigorously to catch the attention of those you regard as family, a splendorous smile planted on your face, walking at an increased speed to catch up with them. An extended curtsey bow is given before them, and only after raising your head you dare to give them all a group hug, false formality forgotten as much as your guest.

The man slowly approaches this scene and analyzes the faces of those present as the embrace takes place. Had you not been turning your back on him, you may have noticed the change in his countenance, coldness creeping over his features from one moment to the next. None of the elders noticed his noiseless presence, not even having sensed it to begin with, and it is not until one of them finishes smiling and opens his eyes to come face to face with their worst fear.

Suddenly the hug is interrupted when this old man lets out a shriek, trying to back away and losing his balance. You follow his line of sight while turning, and find that innocent-looking stranger again, disoriented. There are screams all around you. Seniors are horrified and collapse on the floor next to each other, completely surrendered to the gaze of the demon fixed on them.

“Don’t behave like that! It would appear it wasn’t you guys who taught me manners... I’m so sorry, sir, they’re not used to dealing with travelers, let alone wounded ones... if you’d be so kind as to follow me?”

Throwing a withering glance at the group of elders, you direct your guest to the house the healers occupy. True, your little family is not used to encountering men in the state this very one is in, but you never expected such an exaggeration. A bit of unkempt hair and blood, pale skin, and they’re all screaming on the floor?

The reaction of the healers is not much different, and after reprimanding them for behaving so shamefully, you get them to treat the man’s hands. Leaving them alone so as not to disturb the setting, you make your way to the third and final cottage, your own. Since the other houses occupy four people each, it would be problematic to ask them to accommodate your own guest, and you take your time assembling an extra bed, improvising with blankets.

Nighttime is delightfully quiet, and as the door opens without warning, you greet the individual with a smile. Elders have taken the trouble to bring food for both you and him, announcing neither they nor the healers were in the mood to share dinner together.

The man’s hands are bandaged, his palms completely covered, and his thumbs trapped in the wrappings. He looks uncomfortable, and it shows in his inability to do anything on his own. His chopsticks are impossible to hold as he kneels on the floor and tries to eat, and after many urgings from you, he nods silently and almost imperceptibly, allowing you to help him.

“You see... you’re here, eating my food, under my roof, safe and comfortable... and I still don’t know your name...”

Teasing is imminent in your voice, hoping to relax him, if only a little. As he takes another bite and chews, his eyes are fixed on the table, like trying to hide from your presence.

After analyzing the end of your day alongside this presence, you assessed this man must be terribly shy, perhaps someone properly introverted. Still, observing his features, you get a strange familiarity, a feeling making you let your guard down and relax in front of him. A secret knocking at the door of your mind, demanding to burst in front of you but being invisible at the same time.

“... Uchiha...”

Without expecting an answer anymore, after several minutes, his voice surprises you. It sounds like that of someone who rarely uses it, raspy and rusty, as if it had been forgotten long ago, and not even the man himself remembers its ringing.

“Um?”

“Lord Uchiha...”

His name, you realize. Formal, a title.

Lord Uchiha continues in the same position, just like his words had been an illusion. It is impossible to keep giving him food, his attitude surly and refusing, and you wonder if he plans to spend the entire night in the same position if you allow him to.

Demandingly, you get him up and offer him your bed for the night.

He tries to take the spot you set up on the floor, and displays physical strength far beyond what you thought he had. There are firm muscles hiding under his stained white tunic, and they flex slightly every time he tries to change the course you both walk. He is probably holding back, you realize, for the way his forearm tenses. The stubbornness of this individual… as if he were someone unaccustomed to taking orders, leading rather than listening. Either way, he ends up tucked inside your room, buried under sheets and quilts so he doesn’t get cold.

You find your own resting place after closing the door and leaving your guest. There is not much room inside your small home, and yet, the greatest comforts are offered to those who really need them.

That night, a fearsome nightmare assaults your dreams. A pitch-black claw pierces your stomach from both sides, long nails tearing through skin and tissue like cloth. Blood pools at your feet, solidifying and making escape impossible. You feel your lips move in a choked scream, and a single word escapes your throat along with another red waterfall.

“... Indra...”

#Indra #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki clan #naruto #Naruto Shippuden #indra x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya @oqueequesentes-borboletas @kebabgirl67 @indigosaurus (some of you new readers didn’t ask, but I took the liberty. If you want me to remove you, I totally will without hard feelings.)

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through…I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

#netflix #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #captain syverson fanfic #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader

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weasleydream · 4 years ago

Text

trip in the forest

I know, the title sucks, let’s hope this piece of fluff will be better!

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist

I thought I knew what I had signed up for when I had accepted a date with Charlie Weasley. A good evening with him for sure, maybe filled with some awkward moments but nothing we wouldn’t laugh about later, certainly something magical creatures related, but you know what I hadn’t anticipated?

Sneaking out with him to spend the night in the freaking forbidden forest. That was definitely not in my plans. And now, as I was trailing in the mud behind him, I still didn’t know why I had accepted. Probably his puppy eyes, which seemed to be his favourite way to obtain whatever he wanted - now at least, I knew how he had convinced Pince to let him spend a night studying a book about dragons in the restricted section of the library.

“When- Charlie, when will we arrive wherever you’re bringing me?” I breathed out, which made my stitch even more painful.

“I don’t know!” he replied cheerfully, not panting the least. How the hell was he so enduring? “We’ll see when we’ll be there, I guess!”

“Charlie Weasley!” he turned to me with a surprised expression that turned quickly into guilt. “No matter how fun it is to be walking in the forbidden forest during a freezing night, I would adore you if you could tell me why you brought me here!”

“Keep your voice down, they could hear us!”

“Keep your voice down? Charlie, I swear to Merlin that monsters hearing us will be the least of your worries if you don’t tell me-” I began, slightly infuriated and walking straight to him.

A branch betrayed me though, and I tripped just in front of him. Fortunately, his reflexes were way better than mine and he caught me, steadying me on my feet before putting his hand on my mouth. Without any particular reason, I wondered why his hands weren’t covered in mud as were mine.

“I’m not talking about monsters Y/N,” Charlie murmured, “I’m talking about unicorns.”

“Oh.”

Was all I found because that wasn’t what I expected at all, but, let’s be honest, mainly because our faces were only a few inches apart and the slightly inappropriate thought that his lips seemed so soft crossed my mind. Charlie, clearly oblivious to what was going on in that disoriented brain of mine, kept explaining how he remembered me saying to Tonks that seeing unicorns was a dream I had since my childhood and how he had thought he would bring me to this spot Hagrid had indicated him.

“We couldn’t go during the day because the forest is less dangerous during the night, I know, it’s hard to believe, oh and because we have classes too of course. So I just thought-”

“Charlie.” He stopped talking immediately, and the way he looked at me made my heart beat at an even faster pace than during the trailing. “You should have told me, I wouldn’t have dressed up with these jeans!”

Charlie chuckled.

“Well, they look nice on you.” Here it was, this first awkward moment of Charlie and I looking at each other without saying anything and getting redder and redder. “So… Do you want to go and find these unicorns? We can come back later if you want.”

Considering the brownish colour of my once blue jeans, I shrugged and grabbed his hand.

“You promised me unicorns, Weasley, you better bring me to them now!”

_ _ _

To Charlie, the portion of river where the unicorns liked to stay should be only a dozen of meters away from us. It seemed like I had to cross half of the planet though, because even after an hour and half struggling to stay on my feet when branches, roots and mud were standing in my way, I still needed Charlie’s stable balance. At least now, he was firmly holding my hand, and sometimes when there was too much mud he would even wrap his arm around my waist, making my heart beat ten times faster and pretty much all the blood in my veins rushing to my cheeks. However, how Charlie’s face could stay so straight was a mystery to me, and maybe a very little bit frustrating.

“I think it’s here.”

Charlie’s voice suddenly reached my ears, low and very close to me. I didn’t move my head, too embarrassed at the thought of accidentally bumping his to do what I desperately wanted to do, but my peripheral vision told me that his face was just next to mine, and I was very aware of his torso almost pressed against my back.

I was so surprised and lost in my thoughts that I almost missed the first unicorn. It was an adult, and it looked like she was glowing in the night. The light of the moon, instead of being blocked by the trees, seemed to be stronger here, as if it was amplified by the water of the river. A split second later, I caught a flash of gold on my right and a foal appeared. The baby unicorn joined its mother, and the both of them leaned over the water to quench their thirst. The view was so pure that it almost brought tears to my eyes, and I almost didn’t feel Charlie’s hands when he put them on my shoulder.

“Get down,” he murmured as he pressed lightly on my shoulder. “We don’t want them to see us, do we?”

I shook my head and did as he said. Charlie was still just behind me, and his hands only left my shoulder to grab my waist. The two unicorns were oblivious to our presence, or if they knew we were here they never showed any sign of acknowledgement or nervousness. The baby stopped drinking before the mother and decided to explore the surroundings. Smelling every leaf of every bush led the foal just in front of the bush we were hiding behind. I feared they would run away as soon as our presence would be discovered, but the little unicorn didn’t do anything, even though I knew we were spotted. The exploration continued, and eventually the mother whinnied softly. A second later, the two unicorns had disappeared with an inaudible galop.

“They were way more discreet than you!” chuckled Charlie a few seconds after their departure. He helped me get up, but in all honesty I didn’t even realize my legs were sore after having spent almost fifteen minutes crouched down. I was still amazed by what I had just experienced, I just couldn’t believe I had been face to face with a unicorn.

“How was it?”

“Charlie, it was- it was awesome!”

I knew my smile was wide as ever and Charlie’s was too. I wrapped my arms around his neck - at this point, all restraint had left my mind - and thanked him maybe a thousand times.

“I’m glad you’re so happy,” he said later, as we were walking back to the castle. “I have to admit I was afraid you were mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad, just slightly unhappy.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, that’s why I didn’t-”

If Charlie stopped his rambling apologies so abruptly, it’s because we were so caught in the conversation that we didn’t realize we weren’t walking straight.

“Y/N- you hurt somewhere?” muttered Charlie as he was trying to get on his feet.

I looked up to him, getting rid of the leaves stuck on my face, and then to the embankment we had just rolled down. I grabbed Charlie’s hand and got up, not daring to say out loud I was sure my butt would turn blue in less than ten minutes. I wanted to say instead that it was okay, but my voice got lost somewhere between my paralyzed mind and my open mouth when Charlie reached for my hair and removed a single leaf with a delicate touch.

“You’re worrying me,” he simply said, scrunching his nose as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

“Nothing- I mean, no, I’m okay… That’s embarrassing.”

“I fell as much as you did,” he said with a chuckle, and the sound seemed louder in the silence of the night.

Actually, it came so loud that I was fearing something like a werewolf could have heard us. As if he had read my mind, Charlie wrapped an arm around my shoulders, reminding me that it wasn’t the full moon yet and helping me climb the embankment again.

Fortunately, we got back to the castle without any other fall and without being eaten by a werewolf. We made it to the Gryffindor common room without any bad encounters. I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to slip in my bed, but I didn’t want this night to end either. Charlie seemed as energetic as he was at the beginning of our walk but a yawn betrayed my exhaustion.

“You should go and sleep.” he murmured before clearing his throat and scratching the back of his head. “I- I spent a good night, that was great.”

“Me too. Next time, remind me to ask you where we go before anything else!” I suppressed another yawn and missed his puzzled look.

“Because you want a next time? I mean, I do but it turned out pretty-”

“Chaotic?” He blushed, which made my heart skip a beat. Merlin, this boy would be the death of me, in a way or another! “I know, but that was fun as hell and I loved every second of it! I’m free whenever you want, just not tomorrow because I have to make up for a lost night’s sleep.”

Charlie seemed to think for a second and then smiled widely.

“I’ve heard there’s a clearing quite popular with the hippogriffs… Next week?”

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #charlie weasley #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x yn

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secndlife · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: jeonghan x reader

genre: fluff, angst? second life!au

summary: when something as big as a proposal happens, you start to wonder about the what ifs of a different life.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: none

song

“I’ll be back later, ok?” You said, voice soft as you placed gentle kisses by the sides of his neck. He felt good, skin smoother than the finest piece of silk against your lips. You’ve been together for years now and you knew you’d never get over how sweet he tasted. It was like honey. Better, even. He was like the most addictive of drugs. Your arms were wrapped around his waist while he focused on the screen in front of him, comfortably sitting by the kitchen stool.

He hummed at your gesture, goosebumps hitting his arms like a soft breeze. “Hmkay.” His hand went to the shiny, brand-new object placed at your finger, digits tracing its’ outline slowly before he intertwined your hands. “Off to tell him the news?” He felt you smiling against him.

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his neck, lips still pressed against the veins that he had there. “This is too big of a thing to tell him through the phone.” Your now fiancé nodded in agreement. You held him a bit tighter against your grip, chin now resting on his shoulder and eyes stuck at your hands. It was crazy how something as small and delicate as a ring could carry so much meaning, could feel so heavy. Not the bad heavy, though. Just a different one that you weren’t used to it yet. The one that makes your head spin and your heart beat faster.

He caught you staring at the diamond and his mind went to places he didn’t want to allow. As always, his tongue moved faster, the question he’s been dying to ask ever since he proposed last night rolled out of his lips before he could stop it. “Are you happy?” It was barely a whisper, though, like a secret that he was keeping inside for longer than it seemed. He knew, with the bit of rationality he had inside himself, that you were happy. For you, there was no such thing as hiding your feelings, your heart always being bravely worn on your sleeve. And he would never forget the spark in your eyes when he opened the small box and got down on one knee. At darker times, however, he was still that insecure college boy that asked you out years ago. He just needed the validation.

You first thought was to gently smack his chest and tell him to stop being silly. That this question was out of place and ask him why this lunatic, unreal thought had the nerve to materialize itself into words. But after knowing him so well, you figured that this wasn’t the best approach. Like you had a roadmap to his manners, you could take the hidden hint in his tone that he tried his best to disguise. So you just held him closer, allowing your body to engulf him with love in the form of a hug. “Yes. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

He let out a breath in relief, pressing your arms against his chest as a form of response to all the uncertainty that danced in his mind like ballerinas in new flats. As if the warmness of your skin could fight, almost instantaneously, the coldness that started to form around his heart. “Good.” He brought your hand to his lip now, placing a comfortable kiss against the ring, lips barely brushing at your knuckles. “I love you.”

You’ve been hearing the melodic way he said those three words for a long time now, your paths being laced together for longer than you could count on one hand. Still, every time he said it, it was like the first time you had ever heard it. Like the world had stopped spinning just for you. Like stars were falling out of the sky to be placed in your hands as a gift. Like you were there, at that moment, just to live through the greatness of being loved in the way he loved you. “I love you too.”

“Good,” he said, once again. With a tap by the back of your hand, he tried sending you away. “Ok, go. We both know how he gets when someone’s late.” He giggled. Your heart felt warm at the sound.

“Wanna come?” You offered. They were friends too. You were sure the youngest wouldn’t mind. “You haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Is that why you want me to go?” He teased.

With a small laugh, you said, “yes.” You didn’t want to admit, but you’d kinda miss him. You wanted to be around him these days as much as you could. It started before the proposal. Seeing him confess his love once more, but this time with the twist of the promise of forever, under the star-filled summer sky, just made it all deeper. It was like this thirst for him would never end. Even a couple of minutes away seemed too long, too unbearable. It was like the air was being sucked out of your lungs.

He hummed. “I can’t. I have to send some reports on the recordings to the company today, so I need to double-check everything.” You pouted. “Don’t make that face. You know I can’t resist it.”

You giggled, “Then don’t.”

“I think you need some time alone with him.” His tone was as calm as his heart.

You let out a whine and nodded, “Fine.” You squeezed his body closer to yours once more, trying to gather as much of him as you could for the time you’d spend out.

“Tell him I miss him, though.”

“Sorry I’m late,” you said between breaths, placing your bag by one of the empty chairs.

He looked up and raised a brow at you, his black hair that was now a bit too long falling over his gaze. He was wearing a simple white shirt and some denim pants. You were used to his presence, something impossible not to be as he was your friend for as long as you could remember. But you’d never get accustomed to how heavenly he looked. The way his lips curled up whenever he smiled could make flowers bloom in dry land. The way his eyes slightly, almost imperceptibly, changed colors whenever he stared at the sun for too long could make anyone want to dive in the dark mysteries hidden behind them.

“I should be used to this by now,” he said, with a teasing tone. “I don’t know why I still show up on time to any of our gatherings.”

You placed a loud, wet kiss by his rosy cheek before biting back at his comment. “Because you love to complain when I’m late.” You sat across from him and smiled.

He giggled. “That does give me a reason to live.”

You shook your head, taking the menu from the center of the table. “You’re insufferable,” you scoffed. It felt relieving to be around him like this. Too good. Too comfortable. It was almost as if there were no pressure to be anything other than you with him. Freeing - that’s what it felt like to be around him. Your heart ached as if you haven’t seen him in forever. It hadn’t been that long though, but for sure both of your work schedules were clashing way too often for your liking these days.

“And despite that, you still love me.” He took the menu as well, scanning among the sea of options. He was never good at making choices. Too many options for something as simple as a brunch made him tired.

With eyes glued to the yellowish page before them, you said sincerely, a gentle smile resting against your lips., “I really do, don’t I?” You were a firmer believer that love had many faces and forms and fronts. You couldn’t quite describe the one you had for him. You just knew it was stronger than time. And stronger than life too. You knew, deep down, that this wasn’t your first encounter. The two of you had talked about it before in one drunken night at college. Or more like you talked and he listened. You said that life was magical and alluring to put the two of you together again in this lifetime. He didn’t question. He wouldn’t. He knew it too. In his head, he liked to think he’d always gravitate towards you, one way or another. This thought never really went away. It wouldn’t.

He smiled at your words while trying to figure out what to order. He’d probably just have whatever you were having. That’s how it usually worked whenever you two went out for food. You’d lead, he’d follow. “What are we drinking?”

After thinking for a couple of seconds, you spoke up. “Maybe we could have mimosas? Or just plain champagne?”

He looked up, “Really? Why do you want to drink fucking champagne?” You never drank that. Maybe five times in the course of 15 years, only on very special occasions like college graduation or getting dumped by your second boyfriend. You were a beer type of girl. Or mojito, if you were in a party mood. He tilted his head in amusement and confusion, “What happened?”

You placed your hands on your lap, not ready to let the ring show just yet. He was very observant, so maybe he had noticed it already and was just giving you the time to tell him yourself. Maybe it’d be good to have a drink first. Get some alcohol to pump the blood. You weren’t nervous. You knew he’d be thrilled with the news. You just needed to feel prepared. You’d change the topic for now. “How is she?”

He shook his head while calling the waiter and ordering two glasses of champagne. “Why are you changing the subject?” He inquired after placing the order.

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” you pleaded. Your fingers were still resting against your thighs. “Now answer, how is Sowon?”

He laughed once more. You loved his laugh. “She’s fine. She asked about you today.” Your lips curved up in a smile. “She’s busy. But she’s good, yeah.” You nodded. “How is he?”

“He misses you,” you said, voice delicate over the background noise. It was his turn to nod. “But he’s good too.”

“I’ll call him later.” He meant it. You knew he would. He was not the one to be distant. And he wasn’t. Before he could say something else, the waiter returned with the bubbly glasses and placed them ahead of the both of you. You thanked him and were left in nothing but the pleasant company of your best friend once more. “So?”

You decided to play along a bit more just to annoy him. “What?” He hated that.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re really not telling me why we’re having champagne on a random Saturday mid summer?”

You took the clear, fancy glass in your left hand and took a long sip. Ok, ready. You let out a sigh and extended your right hand to him, the ring shining brighter under the natural night. He carefully looked at it, reaction not quite yet showing. “Wait.” His mouth was now shaped in a small ‘o’. He was putting the pieces together and his lips formed a magnificent smile. “Is this—”

“Yeah,” you said, voice a bit shaky. You were trying your best to hide the uneasiness running through your body. You knew he would approve, and that he would wish you nothing but the best. Still, he was such a meaningful person to you that the mere thought of him not being fond of such happening made you feel sick to your stomach.

He was always good with words. He managed his way through them as a maestro leading an orchestra. Now, it felt like they were escaping him when he needed the most. He took your hand in his and squeezed it, hoping his gesture would say more than his poor brain was being able to voice it. “When did he propose?” There was no surprise in his question. He didn’t actually know, but it was somewhat expected, you guessed.

You held his hand strong as if it was supposed to keep you in place, to keep you in peace. “Last night.”

He smiled widely again, “Are you happy?”

It was the second time you heard that question today. Only now, it had a totally different meaning. Earlier, you were asked “are you happy with me?”. Now, you were being asked if you’re happy, period. Simply, genuinely happy. That was all he would want for you. The answer was the same for both. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

His grip in your hand got tighter, the ring almost hurting his milky skin. “Then I’m happy too.” You felt a stubborn, natural urge to cry as those words made their way to your ears. He knew you well enough to know you didn’t like showing that side of you in public, so he spoke again, “Shall we toast?”

You swallowed the tears along with whatever stupid insecurity you had over this moment. You took your glass from the table and raised it, followed by him. “To me finally getting married?”

He laughed, “No. To you being happy.”

You nodded, heart full of the same love you had for him ever since your first meeting.

After eating more than you should and sharing a bit too many drinks, you were still by the restaurant having one last round of mimosas. After a sip, you spoke. “Yesterday when I called my mom, and he was in the shower, she asked me something funny which I didn’t really know how to respond to.”

“You, not knowing what to respond? That’s new,” he teased. You always had a remark about everything and everyone. “What did she ask?”

“Why we never dated,” you stated simply.

The thought of being more than a friend to him crossed your mind a couple of years back. He was a flirty person and the two of you had shared a kiss, and even more, here and there. Still, it was never something with a lot more meaning. Not as far as you knew or thought or felt. Of course, he was interesting, intelligent and impressive. He kept you on your toes and you loved him dearly. But you didn’t know exactly why this never evolved to something more than best friends. And it was not due to lack of outside incentive. Everyone thought you’d date him before you actually got a real, long term boyfriend, to whom you were now engaged and that was one of his close friends. Some still kept that thought, even after both of you were dating. People talked when your current relationship started. They thought he got bitter. They thought he got jealous. You never saw it and if he did feel like that, he never showed it. On the contrary, he was always very supportive. So you thought long and hard on your mother’s question, you just couldn’t come to any real answer. Maybe he, the one who always knows what to say and how to say it and when to say it, would be able to put some clarity to such secrecy.

After a couple of seconds of comfortable silence, he finally spoke. “Do you believe in fate?”

You laughed. Seems like the drinking was starting to get to you. Your cheeks were flushed and you felt funny inside. “I don’t know.” You started to think about it and shared your conclusion. “I believe everything happens as it should.”

Once he was done contemplating, he started explaining. “I love you, so so much.” There was no undisclosed meaning behind his words. He loved you and that was clear for everyone to see. “And I know you love me too.” Everyone knew that too. You had never, not even for a second, hidden that. But love was a shapeshifter. “Still, I don’t think I’m your fate in this life. Seungcheol is.”

You blinked, processing his words. Your mind started to inevitably wonder to the what ifs, to the what might have beens if you were engaged to the one sitting across from you right now. Those thoughts went away as quickly as they came, much like falling stars. Wasn’t that what all possibilities were? Falling scenarios. They seem bright and ideal, but only because you don’t actually have them to see how they’d really be. Or just because you don’t see them often or long enough. And then they vanish and leave a bittersweet taste behind. You wouldn’t dwell on that. You were happy and you wouldn’t waste time thinking on the falling star of this relationship. He wouldn’t want you to do that and you wouldn’t want to do that either. And it wasn’t even a fallen star to begin with. It was exactly how it was supposed to be. It was like home. Still, something lingered. So you asked. You had to know. “Do you think you’ll ever be my fate, Jeonghan?”

He smiled your favorite smile. The one that gave you chills and that made your heart at ease. With a voice as soft as his features, as gentle as his soul, four little, magic and promising words, that would be more than enough for this time being, escaped his lips. “Maybe in another life.”

a/n: this was supposed to be a piece of a collab with a very talented author, laura. unfortunately, the collab didn’t really happen, but i still wanted to share this piece after cross-checking with laura if she was ok with it. anyways. here’s to finally writing something for jeonghan that’s not absolutely hearbreaking. as always, thank you @yoongitalks for being my faithful beta. love you tons! feedback’s always, always appreciated, so feel free to drop some here. hope you’ll like it!

#caratwritersclub #thekpopnetwork #kwritersworldnet #svt #jeonghan #seventeen #jeonghan scenario #jeonghan fic #seventeen scenario #seventeen fic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagine #seventeen imagine

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rinarecommends · 4 years ago

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Talented Ass Writers: Tumblr (1)

Talented Ass Writers.

As the fan-fiction connoisseur that I am, I see it only fitting that my first official post be a shout out to all the great writers that I’ve discovered, befriended, and thoroughly enjoyed since my arrival on the holy ground that is tumblr.

Now. I’m 22 years old, and I’ve read a lot of fan-fiction in my days, guys, so I’d like to think I know good quality material when I read it. I’ve even dabbled in the writing aspect of it, but we aren’t going to talk about that. I’m more of a reader than a writer, at least when creative writing is concerned. I have ideas, but I can never think them through to where I want them to end up, so alas, I read others works and immerse myself in worlds inside worlds.

For the past year or so, I’ve been heavy into the BNHA fandom, hence the name on my blog. My favorite character is Bakugou Katsuki. As if that wasn’t obvious, but I’m a fan-girl at heart, so I read on multiple platforms including: wattpad, quotev, ffnet, AO3, obscure websites that exist, and of course tumblr, and in this post and the parts that will come later, I will mention lots of authors from different platforms that I think people should know about, in my humble opinion.

I mainly read reader inserts or fics with OC’s, but I’m not going to say that there won’t be some character x character action because in the past, I’ve read plenty of those for several fandoms.

Without Further Ado, Welcome to My “Talented Ass Writers” List, or at least the first part of a yet to be determined number.

* denotes that the fic is NSFW

(Part 1) Tumblr:

@kingexpl0sionmurder - I had to start this list off with my main girl. Steff is not only a talented ass writer, but she’s also a great person and one of my close friends! She currently only has stories for BNHA characters including: Shinsou, Kaminari, Sero, and Todoroki. She writes NSFW and SFW, but she is a 18+ blog.

One of My Favorites: Missed Connection *

@pleasantanathema - This blog is strictly 18+ NSFW content, so this one is for all my deviants, like myself. She writes smut beautifully, and her writing is just amazing. I once requested her to write Jealous!Bakugou, and she delivered. She writes for Haikyuu and BNHA, so pick your poison, and I just want to add that she may or may not be one of the reasons that I thirst, occasionally, over Endeavor.

One of My Favorites: Encounter Series *

@ttetsuro - skyyyyyy! She’s so good!! You may have read her iconic hoof piece on her previous blog! She’s posted a couple of stories on this new blog, and she’s really great at writing! She’s also a genuine ass person, and one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.

One of My Favorites: Backseat*

@bratwritings - Nat is super talented. Her blog is 18+. She has great creativity, and she is very descriptive in her writing. She writes for BNHA, and the characters she’s wrote for, I think she’s captured them very well!

One of My Favorites: Keeping it Professional*

@bakublossom - I recently discovered her blog! She does regular writings, but I discovered her with her SMAU! Her SMAU & fics are so good!

One of My Favorites: Apartment 204

@lady-bakuhoe - this list is far from complete, but I wanted to go ahead & put Jo on here. If you like to read Fanfiction, I’m sure you’ve stumbled upon one of Jo’s fics. SHE HAS SO MANY GOOOD ONES. I love her writing so much. She has a way with words, and I read a lot, honestly one of the best. She’s not currently writing, but I would definitely recommend checking out her stuff here or on AO3. 18+ only though.

One of My Favorites: I cant pick one. Literally read any of them.

@ikinabi - Red!! The Kiri Stan who made me also kinda thirst for Kirishima! She writes beautifully. I adore her as a writer & as a person! You won’t regret checking her out, especially if you live for kiri & his unbreakable form! 18+.

One of My Favorites: Power*

@gallickingun - Morgan not only writes for my angry boy baku, but she’s also writes (wrote?) for my asshole prince of all Saiyans that I love so dearly, and she’s good at it. That’s why she’s on the list, obviously. She writes smut, spice, fluff, ANGST (I’m still mad about that ending MORGAN 😂) & she does it beautifully. She’s also a really chill person, and you won’t regret checking her out. 18+

One of My Favorites: please, I beg of you.*

@league-of-thots - Jay’s blog is 18+, and she writes for several characters, including Hawks and Natsuo. She’s really good at smut, which I believe is slowly becoming a prerequisite for this list, and her writing, the not smutty parts, is also superb. She also throws in some kinks, and We all secretly like the kinky stuff, you can admit it to me.

One of My Favorites: How Much I Love You*

@rivendell101 - I feel like I keep saying things like “she’s so good,” but they wouldn’t be on this list if they weren’t good. I’m not normally into threesomes, okay, but after reading the way she wrote her todoxreaderxbaku ... I had a change of heart. Her fic is really well done, and I can’t wait to read more of her stuff! 18+.

One of My Favorites: Some like it Hot*

@ichor-and-symbiosis - Don’t get me wrong. I love my heroes, but this is one of my fave villain blogs, specifically Shigaraki. She totally writes for other characters including Heroes and other Villains, but she captures Tomura so well, and she has so many fics! If you want some five finger death punch, AKA Shigaraki, in your life, I would definitely check this blog out! 18+.

One of My Favorites: Mine*

@bnhabadass - Nora’s tumblr name fits her so well because she’s definitely a badass! She writes for a lot of BNHA characters, and her writing is really good! I’ve read some of her work, and I plan on reading more because I haven’t been disappointed yet! 18+.

One of My Favorites: Behind Tent Walls*

@burnedbyshoto - Lyssa! The Todoroki stan of Todoroki stans. She captures Shouto so well in her writing, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed all of the fics that I’ve read by her. If you love a certain icy hot bastard, I think you’ll like her blog! 18+.

One of My Favorites: House-sitting and Concupiscence*

@cutesuki--bakugou - Sarah is so talented. She writes, obviosuly, but she also DRAWS, and in this house, we stan multi-talented queens. She drew me MMA bakugou, and I will forever be indebted to her, but that’s not why she’s on this list. She’s on here because she’s super great at writing, especially for Baku. She also has great xOC content, but she does xReader as well! 18+.

One of My Favorites: Frigid*

@todourouki - Despite the name, this blog writes for BNHA and Haikyuu! I am partial to the BNHA fandom because it has my angry boy in it, but I do like the Haikyuu fandom, and I feel like it’s growing very rapidly recently. I love this blog’s writing style, and the smut is great! 18+.

One of My Favorites: Studying, but make it Nude*

@ladyexplosionmurder - I’m sorry, but if you write good bakugou stories, you’ll probably end up on this list, or one of my future lists, and this blog writes good bakugou! They don’t have many stories yet, but I’ve really enjoyed what I’ve read so far. This is definitely a blog to watch!

One of My Favorites: Riled Up

@tomurasprincess - Mari writes more darker stuff, but she does it WELL. If you’re into Yandere and things that come with that, I highly suggest checking out her blog! You won’t regret it. 18+.

One of My Favorites: Explosive Consequences*

@hisoknen - Raph also dabbles in the dark arts of the BNHA Fandom, but she also does it beautifully. I highly recommend her as well. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed all of the fics that I’ve read that were written by her. I suggest checking this blog out. 18+.

One of My Favorites: Looking for Trouble*

@mrs-takami-keigo - Ari is a great person whom I connect on with love for an angry explosion boy and makeup and other things, and she’s also.... a great writer! I enjoy reading her fics, and I think others will as well. You should def check her out. 18+

One of My Favorites: Mesmerize*

Part 2 of the list is here

#bnha #rina recommends #my hero academia #bnha x reader #fanfic #what to read #you should trust me bc i know my stuff #I read way too much #so that i can save others time from reading trash #bakugou katsuki x reader #follow me for more #book recommendations #if you ever want a specific kind of story to read #send me an ask and i will give you a recommendation

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soramel · 3 years ago

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Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

[COMPLETE] Part 4

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, sageuk au, royalty au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.9k approx. Part 4/7 Content warning: smut, violence, angst

This is the last part in my Tumblr account. Part 5 to 7 (fin) can be found in my wattpad account

You stayed home the whole morning, staring out the window. You watched the cars passing by the bridge crossing the Han river.

Now you're plopped down on the couch while Jungkook is vacuuming the floor.

"Don't you have work today?" you asked.

Jungkook shook his head in reply. "There's no one on my schedule. I checked."

"Why don't you have a TV here? How do you pass time?" you whined. You might be safer compared to being outside, encountering different souls and human energies, but you thought this kind of boredom could kill too.

You learned last night that you don't tire out like a human does. It's your energy running out, which can be restored by sleep, rest, or eating food offerings for those who passed. However, if you stayed long enough wandering, those wouldn't suffice. Ghosts like Taehyung's assignee and the man in that business district, they feed off from wandering souls like you. Your energy is still of a human because you died in a wrong time, but they could easily get your energy from your form.

Jungkook didn't respond and continued cleaning.

You sighed. You're fully rested, so you can't really go back and sleep the day off.

You jumped at an idea, "How about I visit my funeral?" you didn't really want to. You don't want to see your family and friends being sad because of your passing. Besides, the spirit guide promised you that you could go back to your old life. You just have to wait. And you have a powerful grim reaper protecting you, so you're all good.

He shook his head, and firmly said, "No. It's not safe there. I told you that's a hotspot for starving souls."

"But I have you!" you insisted.

Jungkook turned off the vacuum, placing a hand on his hip, squaring his shoulders. He then said, "Remember when the lady almost got you? What if we encounter five of them? I'm not omnipotent, Y/n. I'd lay my life to protect you, but I don't really die so it's pointless. Once you're out of my grasp, you're on your own."

His warning rendered you speechless. Unconsciously, you huffed in a pout.

Jungkook's expression fell at your reaction, but there's nothing else he could do.

The doorbell rang.

Both of you turned to the sound.

The grim reaper tucked in the vacuum, leaving it to stand, before going to the door.

"Sir Jeon," you heard a wavering man's voice.

"Mr. Choi, what brought you here?" Jungkook queried, his voice tensed. He repeatedly wished for you not to show yourself and he hoped telepathy would work. But of course, your curiosity won. You peeked from the hallway and saw a man in his 30's.

His gaze shifted from Jungkook to yours. His eyes widened in thirst. For a second, the white of his eyes faded.

"Mr. Choi," Jungkook snapped.

The ghost stared back to him, as his eyes went back to normal.

"Sir Jungkook. It's my daughter. She's having a fever and her mother's not yet back from the business trip," the man explained.

"Her nanny didn't show up this morning. She's been alone since last night," he went on, his sweaty hands fidgeting as he asked for help. "Please, help her."

Jungkook stilled for a moment, before responding, "I'm not allowed to make calls in the human world, Mr. Choi. I'm not allowed to interfere on that matter."

Mr. Choi kneeled, pressing his hands together, and begged, "Please, sir. I, I tried to help. I've been trying to possess a human's body but my soul is too weak. I haven't fed for weeks. I couldn't visit a burial without getting killed by a starving ghost. Please, you're all I have."

"Mr. Choi-"

"Her!" he pointed at you.

"She can help."

Mr. Choi looked at you, his eyes pleading.

"Please help my daughter," he asked you directly.

Jungkook backed away from the door, "No," he sternly said. "She's not fit for what you're asking."

The man argued, "She just died! I can feel her energy from here, she could possess anyone easily!"

Then insisted, "Young lady, please. It's not that much. Just bring her to the hospital."

Jungkook stood firm, resolved to kick the man out, "I said no. Go-"

"Jungkook. It's okay. I'll help him," you said to him.

"Y/n," his voice laced with disapproval, while the man bowed repeatedly. "Thank you! Thank you!" he uttered over and over in gratefulness.

When you arrived at the apartment complex, you started looking around for someone to possess. You saw a college student, much like you, walking. Jungkook stopped you before you could take a step.

"Not her. She's not well rested. You'll be stuck in her body if her soul surrendered."

You nodded and tried to look for another. There's another woman, but she's with her child. It seemed like they're waiting for a taxi.

You surveyed the area. There are only cars passing by the highway.

Mr. Choi hesitatingly spoke, "Please hurry, it took me long to get to you,"

He pursed his lips shut when Jungkook sent him a deadly glare.

Clasping your hands together, you decided to go for the woman. You looked at Jungkook for permission, but he's been nothing but adamant.

So, you strolled forward, with much determination.

Upon nearing the lady, you whispered, "I'll be quick, promise," though she couldn't hear you.

You stepped into her shell, her soul resisting. You can feel yours slowly seeping in.

You tightly closed your eyes and soothingly muttered, "I'll be quick. A young girl's alone in the apartment and she's been sick. Please."

You opened your eyes and felt your spirit settled. You stared at the lady's free hand, then you felt a tug.

Her son stared up at you and said, "Mommy, there's the cab," he informed.

You looked at the driver and waved your hand dismissively. You crouched down to the boy's height and held his face.

"Mommy needs to visit a friend's place first. Okay?" you spoke, while trying not to be startled by your new voice.

The boy nodded.

You gave him a reassuring smile which turned to joy when he smiled back. Showing a gap between his teeth.

Holding the boy's hand, you faced Jungkook and Mr. Choi.

Mr. Choi beamed and led the way to his daughter.

You sat beside the hospital bed as you listened to the doctor. "She'll be monitored every four hours. You have nothing to worry about," he smiled at you and to the boy beside you.

"Thank you, doctor. I'll call her mother right away," you informed him.

"Don't mention it. How kind of you to look after your friend's child, Mrs. Kim," he said.

You blinked repeatedly and smiled awkwardly, "Ah, of course."

Then you looked at him as you wait for him to leave.

After an uncomfortable silence, you renewed your smile, "Doc?"

"Ah, yes. Well, then... I have to go. Lots of patients to attend to."

You nodded in reply. You watched him walk away before tripping on his own steps. A chuckle escaped Jungkook's lips, he tried to suppress it to no avail.

By the time you managed to bring the boy and the lady back to their home, the sun was already down. The lamp post flickered as you stepped out of the building. Then a snowflake fell on your nose before it passed through, landing on the pavement.

You reached out your hand to catch the first snow only for it to slip through.

Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. At least, you couldn't feel the cold.

Noticing your feet, you moved forward, one step after another.

If you were alive, the road's roughness would scrunch under your feet, the falling snow crystals would land on your skin then would melt away; if you were alive, you'd see your breath in this unforgivable winter.

It's only been days since, but you couldn't help but become impatient. More than a week of waiting would feel like a year.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked as he walked beside you.

Turning to him, you said, "Could be better,"

He nodded. "Let's find a door,"

You touched his arm to stop him, you feel like walking. At least that way, you'd be able to feel the first snow with your eyes.

"Can we walk instead?" you asked.

He frowned and answered, "You look tired. You almost spent a day in someone's body. It should've drained you. I'd need to ask Yoongi or Taehyung to bring us food."

Taking off your hand from him, you tried your best to hide your disappointment. "Just 5 minutes," you bargained. He paused to think, assessing the situation. Afterwards, he agreed.

"Thanks."

You walked forward, watching the sky. The orange light from the posts sparkled against the falling flakes. You basked in the simple beauty you failed to appreciate.

The glitters on the pavement

The rustling of the road as a car passed by

The ding of the bicycle dashing through, towards you

You stood frozen in shock as the biker permeated. It felt like the gravity engulfed you out of your soul, if that's still possible. You're left with nothing now, this is your form at your purest state.

You wobbled and before hitting the ground, Jungkook pulled you by the elbow. Your chest flushed against his as you looked at his face. His features etched with worry.

It felt familiar.

his hold

his arms,

his eyes,

this scene,

the weather.

Everything.

A déjà vu.

Jungkook felt it too. That was evident on how his concerned frown softened into a gaze of longing and admiration.

He couldn't put a name on his emotions, but it felt unstoppable.

It felt right to close the distance between you.

It felt right to rest his palm against your crimson-painted cheeks.

It felt right to acknowledge the pull.

Your eyes shuttered close as his lips met yours.

Everything felt familiar.

You both knew.

And as if the spell that bound you worn out, you pulled apart from each other. Averting each other's eyes.

Jungkook broke the silence by clearing his throat. He then muttered, "Let's go home. You're tired."

After a while, he found a door by the sidewalk. He jerked it to see if it's open and after confirming, he shut it close again.

He laid his hand out to you, at which you took without protest.

Then you were now in his apartment's hallway.

The rest of the night were spent in silence as he retreated to his room.

"Taehyung brought this for you," Jungkook blurted as he saw you stirring awake.

The space was lit by the morning light and clanking of plates rung through as the two grim reapers prepare on the dining table.

"I heard you had a rough day. I wish I could've brought food earlier, but I had a graveyard shift," Taehyung explained in a sad face.

You waved your hand dismissively, "It's fine. No worries. I just slept it off."

Taehyung's face lit up, he looked at you, smiling, "I got porridge. They put shrimps and eggs on it. First class."

"I also got tangerines. Though we must save two handfuls for Yoongi-hyung. He's on his way here."

The main door banged open at once, startling you.

"Oops, sorry 'bout that. Hi Y/n," Yoongi greeted.

Jungkook placed the last plate on the table before looking up at the eldest, "Yoongi-hyung, come eat with us."

[Part 5 to 7]

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fanfic #jkxreader #jjk #jungkook fantasy au #jjk x reader

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claudiarya · 4 years ago

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Hey guys, I’ve written a post RoW fanfiction. I warn you that it has a death trope in it, so beware.

You can also read it on Ao3 as well.

Count words: 5990

Hope Suite

They didn’t know the moment when it all went wrong. Had it been when Kaz had accepted the job? Had it been when Inej had left Pekka Rollins alive, or when they had kept going despite all the adversities, they had encountered? The events of the last days were starting to become a blurring reel, that had done nothing but confuse them. What had started as a fairly easy job for the queen of Ravka, it then had turned out to be a major standoff with their enemies, which was putting not just one country, but the whole world as they knew it in peril. Maybe it had all gone downhill when Jarl Brum had managed to escape his prison cell at Hellgate, aided by one of his most trusted Drüskelle, his mind already too corrupted by the former General’s manipulations.

By the time he had been set free again, and had sought revenge against his detested neighbors, specifically against the witch queen and her monstrous husband, Inej, Kaz and his crew had already been too involved with their task to worry about it. How could they have known that once out, Brum was going to use everything in his power to bend Ravka? The Fjerdan man was aware that he couldn’t compete with its ruler, so he had worked out a different strategy entirely: if he couldn’t hope to win in a direct confrontation, he was going to annihilate her and her subjects from within, even if it would cost the destruction of his own country and more…

They didn’t know how Brum had gotten the information, but he had travelled to the mountains and had somehow liberated a certain shadow summoner from his sacrifice of eternal of pain, well before Zoya could do as she had planned. The shadow summoner in question had disappeared without a trace, only the Saints knew where he could have gone to hide away.

Needless to say, the darkness and its vampiric actions had started to spread again, at twice the speed. It looked like a ravenous beast had been set lose. It had extended in other countries as well, a silent and unannounced menace ravishing everything in its wake, that terrified even sailors at sea. If that wasn’t enough, Brum had also found out about Dirtyhand’s ‘involvement’ with the queen, and had made an ally with an ex Barrel boss, who had lost all his fortunes and power to a teenage crippled kid. Two powerful and dangerous men driven by their thirst for revenge had revealed themselves to be even more unstoppable than any of them had originally believed.

***

Inej remembered when Kaz had asked her to take a short leave from her sea voyages, to run one last time with him and the other crows in this task in which her skills at gathering information were going to be fundamental. Jesper had, of course, already accepted his friend’s proposition, and if at first Wylan had been skeptical, he had ended up joining the crew for the job. Perhaps for his natural instinct to follow wherever the gangly sharpshooter went, or maybe for the fact that he had made friends with the King consort, their shared love for science and ‘infernal gadgets’, as Kaz would call them, a fertile ground for common understanding.

“I won’t force you to do anything,” he had rasped to her while sitting on the roof ledge at the Slat to watch the tepid Ketterdam sun slowly blinking into existence in front of them; their intertwined fingers a testimony of how far they had already conquered together. The only thing that hadn’t won yet was their insomnia.

“Your particular set of skills is needed for this job, but I understand if you don’t want to be dragged into this,” Kaz had continued, and she had known he had slightly turned his head in her direction, as she had kept her eyes on the dawn.

After a while and still no answer from her he had sighed.

“Inej, what I’m trying to say is that we need you. I need you. I don’t think I can do this without you, so please tell me now, so I can send back a definite answer to Her Royal Pain.”

The Suli girl had marveled at his words: she didn’t think she had ever heard Kaz admit out loud that he couldn’t do something without the help of someone else.

“I’ll do it,” she had exclaimed, now turning her gaze on his stone-carved features. “But on one condition: I want Queen Zoya to help me fight against the slave trade in Ravka, and I want her to promise me that human traffickers are going to find the justice they deserve in her country.”

Kaz had squeezed her hand, the look in his eyes an oath to himself as well as to her.

***

Inej clutched her hand on her injured arm. She could feel the blood on her palm, as she watched Kaz keeping at cane point the last of the men who had tried to kill them. Their lead for the relic of Santk Feliks’s heart had taken them here, in an obscure abandoned, or so they thought, monastery on the Ravkan coast, right on the border with Fjerda. They had found out that centuries before, the order of religious men inhabiting the place had been the resting place of the only remaining part of the Saint. An easy reconnaissance job, an easy trail to follow. But ever since the spreading of the blight, of the Kilyklava, nothing had been easy. It was as if for every movement they made, their enemies were ten steps ahead of them. Inej had never seen anyone outsmart Kaz like that. Usually, he was the one who had everything under control, who could predict every outturn, every maneuver his opponents were going to make. But instead, everywhere they had attempted to gather information, they had encountered a setup of sorts: mainly the place they had intended to scout, burnt to the ground. Had they a spying traitor in their mix? Inej had never seen him more on edge than she had in the last month, but now they had passed the pretense of this being another job. It had stopped being that when the world hab been threatened by an unstoppable force and Pekka Rollins had entered the picture. It was personal. And she suspected that he was also trying to keep true to the promise he had made her.

Inej had thought they had planned this out so carefully, she was sure they would not encounter any unpleasant surprise this time. After the too many (not) coincidences, they had started scheming their way for the hunt of the heart with only the four of them and Nikolai and Zoya, who had had to, although begrudgingly, leave out the Triumvirate and their closest friends from this particular matter of international importance. How was it possible then, that their traces had been tracked even here? Kaz and Inej had offered for the job, a quick break in into the abandoned archives of the monastery, while Nikolai, Jesper and Wylan would wait for them on the Volkvolny to pick them up and leave after they had completed their task. Perhaps a smaller party was going to attract less attentions, their rouse of a devoted young group of people had served them well in the little town around the old holy building, and they had played their parts too well that Inej had forgotten for an instant that they had a bigger goal in mind. She was never going to forget the easy talk, the laughs they had shared around the table of the little tavern they had resided in, her hand clasped together with Kaz as a sort of lifeline for the both of them; her head resting delicately on his chest as they were lying down on the little bed they shared.

The four men that have been sent to kill them had caught them by surprise. Again.

Kaz had just uttered “We’ve got what we need, let’s go,” when the first thug that had tried to sneak up on him. Inej had made a quick work of the assassins, if her knives embedded in two of the men’s throats were of any indication. Despite that, one of the others had managed to graze her arm with a bullet, when she had momentarily lost her focus because the remaining one had kicked Kaz’s bad leg, eliciting a sound of pain from him. If only Jesper and Wylan had been there with them.

As she hobbled to where he was standing, Inej realized that Kaz was shaking from the effort of not to keel over in pain, his hand gripping the crow’s head of his cane so tightly, she feared he was going to snap it in half.

“Kaz...” she started

“You’re bleeding,” he rasped, diverting his gaze from the man to her, for the briefest of moments.

“It’s nothing,” she said. But she could see that he wasn’t really convinced, and with a soft grunt, he fished from his pocket a handkerchief and handed it to her, before asking to the person on the ground.

“How did you know we would be here?” his eyes two unforgiving coals.

The hired assassin didn’t answer at first but gave away in a little chuckle instead. Suddenly Kaz, still balancing his weight mostly on his good leg, brought down his cane on one of the man’s own legs. His scream of pain echoed around them in the old room.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” he said. This was Dirtyhands himself, any trace of the young man he had been with her at the tavern, vaporized.

“Now, tell me how you knew we were here, or I’m going to break every bone you have, and we both know how pleasant that is.”

The man chuckled again, but then he started talking.

“At times one shouldn’t look for spiders,” he said with a sickening grin. “At times, it’s the little insects nobody sees or cares to check because they’re believed to be harmless that tip the scales.”

Inej could see Kaz’s mind trying to figure out the man’s words, his gaze distant.

In that moment she realized that she was never going to tire to see that look on his face. Nor any other looks for that matter. Wobbly, the boy in question turned to her, he took the kerchief she had been pressing on her wound from her hand, and before she could realize what he was doing he tore it a bit and tied it around her bloody arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he stated, wincing visibly as he made to move towards the door.

The man started laughing again as if Kaz had said something so funny he couldn’t control himself. Inej was on him before she could think. A knee on the thug’s sternum and her blade pressed to his throat.

“What’s so funny?” she inquired, looking down at him with disdain. She was tired, and she wanted to bring Kaz back to the Volkvolny, to get his leg looked properly after.

“In the end, you really are nothing but two delusional kids,” the man said, and Inej could feel his voice reverberate from under her knee.

“Stop speaking in riddles, or I swear to all the Saints known I’ll cut your throat right this second.”

He raised one hand in a gesture of mocking surrender. “Let’s just say that nobody is leaving this place alive,” he conceded.

“What do you mean?” asked Kaz from somewhere behind her, his tone menacing yet on guard. The tip of Inej’s knife scraped the man’s throat when he didn’t immediately answer back, two droplets of blood slid down the blade.

“This place and the whole town are about to be razed down by bombs and cannons. General Brum’s ships are approaching. They wanted to make sure our precious king consort and his flying machine didn’t leave this place unscathed. There’s no escaping your tragic fate now.” He snarled. His voice couldn’t conceal the hate he had for Nikolai, so he must have been one of those Ravkans from the West, unhappy with who was ruling over them now.

“No,” Inej said softly, and shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re lying!”

The man’s eyes lit with a manic light. “The world shall end in flames and darkness before being ruled by Gri –” He never finished his sentence, as Kaz brought down his cane once again, this time on his head.

The silence that followed could have lasted a minute or an eternity, Inej couldn’t be sure.

“Kaz,” she started again while standing.

“You need to leave. Now. I can’t walk, I think my leg is broken, but you need to leave me here and run from this place.” Kaz said, turning to look at her, the desperation palpable in his voice

“I’m not leaving,” she approached him. “We need to warn Nikolai. Tell them all to leave.”

“Inej – ”

“Either pick up the comm and call them, or give it to me, Kaz. We’re only losing time like this.” Her tone was unmovable.

Without any more protests on his part, he took out the little ingenious device Wylan and Nikolai had come up with. It permitted them to communicate even from quite long distances.

“Crow 1 and 2 to Too Clever Fox, do you copy?”

For the briefest of instants only there was only the sound of static, but then.

“Too Clever Fox here, I copy you. Kaz? What’s going on?” came the king’s voice.

“Nikolai, listen to me: you have to leave. Now. Get the Volkvolny and depart. This monastery, this town is about to be razed down by bombs. They knew we would be here; Brum’s ships are approaching. You – ”

“We’re coming to get you,” Nikolai interrupted him.

“No, there’s no time for that. You have to leave here now, or it will all be for nothing.” He looked at Inej then, his eyes searching hers in the dim light of the room with evident resignation.

“No! Kaz, Inej, no, we’re coming and we’re all surviving this.” Another protest from a different voice, Jesper’s.

“No! You have to listen and be quiet. I know where the thing we’ve looked for is. It’s hidden somewhere under the little place you train your soldiers. I also know how they’ve been able to predict our every move. Bugs. Check the war room for devices of the sort we’re using right now.”

“I will,” was Nikolai’s response.

There was another brief pause of static, Kaz spoke again, before he could be interrupted

“Jesper, Wylan,” he said. “The Crow Club and everything else is yours and Nina’s. You’ll find all the documents in my office back at the Slat. Do with them whatever you think it’s right.”

“Kaz, please we still have time, we can come and get you.” It was Wylan’s voice now that came from the other side.

Inej got closer and circled the hand in which Kaz was gripping the device with her own. “Wylan, you have to leave. Right now, ring the alarm bell of the town and go.” She started and then said:

“Guys… find my parents, tell them – tell them what happened, and that it was all for something better. We love you.”

Another anguished call for their names echoed around the room they were standing.

Inej took a breath a finished what she meant to say. “Nikolai the Wraith… take good care of her, and don’t forget our promise. When you see Nina and Zoya tell them – ”

She couldn’t finish the sentence the threat of tears pricking her eyes. Luckily the privateer answered back.

“I’ll tell them, and I promise everything we did by far will not be in vain. Thank you, my friends. We will never forget what you did for Ravka and for all of us.”

Kaz and Inej could also hear the subtle sounds of distress of their friends, their family. She realized in that moment how much all of them meant to her. Funny how life had a tendency to remind you how deeply you loved someone when you’re about to lose everything.

Kaz brought the device back on his lips and in a clear voice said: “No mourners…” and before they could hear an answer coming from the other side, he had already thrown on the ground the device and smashed it with the tip of his cane.

The movement made so that he lost his balance. He would have crashed on the ground if Inej hadn’t been there to prevent the fall. She brought his arm over and shoulder and steadied him.

Kaz looked at her intently, his face turned in her direction, his eyes scanning her features and she knew what he was about to tell her even before he spoke the words.

“Inej, you can still make it, you’re fast, you have to run and save yourself.”

“I knew you were going to say this, but if you think that I could ever leave you behind you’re sorely mistaken.”

He did not relent, and as stubbornly as ever he removed his arm from around her shoulder, he gripped his cane with all his might so as not to fall again and faced her.

“Inej, please. Run now. Live. You have so much you still have to give to this wretched world.” Kaz Brekker never said please, never. Yet here he was, a broken boy standing in front of the girl he had grown to love.

“I can’t do that,” Inej simply replied while shaking her head in denial.

“It was all my fault, and you can’t pay my foolishness with your life, I won’t allow it. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.”

She took the short distance separating them and put her hand atop his on his cane.

“None of this was your fault, you have to get that straight. We’ve done something good, we helped our friends, our countries. And you’ll always be worth it to me.”

At her words she felt his breath hitch, but still his eyes held behind them a strange resolution.

“I can’t be the reason why you die here today, why can’t you understand that?” Kaz’s voice cracked, perhaps with the effort of holding back his desperation. Inej brought her free hand up and gently cupped his face with her palm. Her thumb grazed his cheek in a loving gesture.

“I’m not afraid to die, Kaz. But I’m terrified at the idea of a life without you in it. So, no. I’m not leaving, not now, not ever.”

***

As they stumbled outside the musty room of the monastery, Kaz with an arm draped around Inej’s shoulder for support, the Autumnal sun had started its descent. The soft orange and purple hues of the rays reflected on the sea surface, and the waves created a gentle melody. Inej couldn’t help but think that this was the Saints’ way to lead them onto their next job, their next adventure…

They dragged their feet until they were near the shore and lowered themselves down. For a moment that felt like an eternity, they gazed to the horizon, the sheer but peaceful resignation palpable in the air.

When Kaz clasped her hand and looked at her, she remembered a conversation she had overhead between the boy and Zoya.

They had adjourned their meeting after having gone over their plan again, everyone had stepped out of the room except for Kaz and Zoya, who had prevented him from exiting with a question. Curious as to why he hadn’t joined her outside, she had stayed behind the closed door, waiting in the long corridor. She had known that Kaz, and probably the queen too, were aware that she was there, but she hadn’t cared much.

“Just out of curiosity, why are you doing this Mr. Kerch rat?” she had asked, her voice reverberating even outside.

“I thought it was pretty obvious, Your Highness. It’s for the reward.” He had replied in that wry tone of his that she knew drove Zoya crazy.

“Oh, but I don’t think it’s just that.” Even without having been inside, Inej could picture the other woman taking one of the positions she had learned the queen preferred. Arms crossed and a frowned expression to better look down on him. In the crows’ time at the palace, the two Suli women had formed an easy and quiet friendship. The captain of the Wraith had helped her queen to reacquaint herself with her Suli heritage and Inej had even told Zoya that once the situation was over, she was going to bring her to her family caravans, to spend some time amongst their people. They had become sisters at heart and by blood.

“Enlighten me with your glorious knowledge then.”

Kaz had always liked playing with fire, but he was always walking a fine line with the sovereign of Ravka. Perhaps he wanted to see how much she could take before she decided to strike him out of existence on the spot.

“When you saw that this was getting dangerous, that it wasn’t going to be an easy job, you could have easily dropped everything and return to Ketterdam with you crew. Why didn’t you? Why stay when you knew the risks?”

Inej had heard genuine interest in Zoya’s voice that didn’t bore any resentment.

“I don’t know what you want me to answer.”

“Try with the truth, I know it’s hard for you, but indulge me. I know you’re not doing this just for yourself and your own benefit, as shockingly as it may seem. You’re still here for Inej, for the promise we had sworn to keep.” The queen had said as if she had found out the deepest secret of the man standing before her.

“Let me get this straight,” he had rasped. “I’ll always do what’s best for me, but I’m also a man of my word and I made a promise.”

There had been a few seconds of absolute silence, in which probably Zoya had studied him with those piercing blue eyes of hers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but under certain aspects we’re not that different you and I. Your prickly behavior can only last so long, Kaz, but eventually you’ll have to let go. I’ve learned that even the thickest thorns have their purposes.” The queen had said with a wisdom that at times made Inej wondered how many lives the queen had already lived.

“Ah, but here’s where your wrong, Your Excellency. In this scenario you’re comparing me to thorn wood, while actually I’m just barren land on which nothing grows.”

His lapidary answer would have been enough to render speechless anyone, but not Zoya the Grisha queen of Ravka. In her spectacular talent at having always the last word she told him: “You’ll realize that you can’t keep up this cold demeanor forever. I just hope it won’t be too late when you do.”

***

Inej squeezed Kaz’s hand tighter and looked him straight in his brown eyes, a shade lighter in the orange sun. From a distance they heard the sound of bells. Their friends had managed to give the alarm, she only hoped they were already on their way back to the palace. The tolls were shortly followed by another sound: propellers guiding the Fjerdan ships to face the town and the monastery. With a small smile grazing her feature she told him said.

“You were wrong. You were wrong that time when you spoke with Zoya.” If at the beginning of her sentence he had seemed confused, now she could see he understood what conversation she meant.

“You’re not just barren land, Kaz. You managed to build something from nothing, you survived all those terrible things in your life and in the process, you managed to grow, to thrive, to do something good for Ravka and your friends. I’m sure your brother would be proud of you. I know I am.” He didn’t reply.

The rumbling of the aircrafts was almost cacophonic, in contrast to the peace they had basked in not a few minutes ago. Despite that, it was as if the two of them had been placed in a protective bubble of their own, in which not even those machines of war could destroy.

Perhaps it was the lightening, but Inej swore those were unshed tears glinting in Kaz’s eyes. In all the years she had known him, she had never even seen him get emotional or choked up about something, but here, now, on this shore with her, Dirtyhands was doing just that.

“I’ve never wanted for it to end like this – his shoulders shook as he held back a sob – for us, to end like this. Inej, believe me when I tell you that if I could go back, I would do so many things differently. If I could go back, I would start to show you how much I admire you, how much I love you so much earlier than I did.”

Inej’s hand found his face again. The tip of her fingers skimmed his lips in such a tender gesture that they parted under her touch.

“There’s no need for that, Kaz, I already know. And it doesn’t matter how early or late you started. You show me you love me every day.” Her limb continued on her exploration: she touched his brow, his eyes, his cheekbones. “I propose a deal: I’ll find you in the next life Kaz Rietveld, and even there I’ll be waiting for you perched on your windowsill feeding the crows.”

Still looking at her straight in the eye, he let go of her hand, removed his gloves discarding them on the sand and rubbed her disheveled braid between two trembling fingers.

“The deal is the deal. I’ll find you there then.”

The rumble of the ship cannons had reached a deafening peak as their beams struck mercilessly on the monastery in an unescapable trap of fire.

Before the very end, the two held themselves up on trembling knees and embraced the other. A small smile of resigned happiness on both of their faces.

“Stay with me,” Kaz whispered, and unlike another and far time her answer was clear.

“Always.” Inej swore.

Saints protect us both, was the last thing she thought.

And then there was nothing but searing light.

***

In Os Alta the feast on Sankt Nikolai was fast approaching, but even if she was the queen Zoya didn’t feel much festive. The white, still landscape of her country at this time of the year was an accurate representation of what she had been feeling ever since they had managed to find the heart of Sankt Feliks, save Ravka from the plague and its enemies with another peace treaty and bring the Darkling – or Aleksander as he insisted to be called – back to the little palace where they could control him. She knew they were taking a risk, but it was safer to have him closer than not knowing where he was. It had been a hard decision, but she wasn’t going to murder him in cold blood, she was not going to turn into a monster, as he had in his lust for power. In his loneliness.

When everything had come back to a pseudo- normality, when she had had time to think and just be, it was then that everything she had been holding back for the sake of her country hit her with tenfold the force.

Zoya had understood that keeping emotions bottled inside you, was going to eat you alive in the longer run. It was something she was learning every day, and that she was willing to change, if only a bit. She had started letting go in the small gestures of affection she shared with Genya, in the loving words she had with Nikolai, in the playful banters she occasionally allowed herself to have with the rest of her friends. Her family.

And so, as the Grisha queen strode towards her garden, the winter sun barely a strip on the horizon of a new morning, she couldn’t help the tears that fell down in two cold streaks down her face. Zoya brought an arm up to dry them, the sensation of the thick wool of her winter kefta both prickly and a reassurance.

She opened the door of the little corner of her world. Nobody entered this sanctuary except for Nikolai, since she hadn’t allowed anybody else to see her soul from that close. The structure her king had built for her always managed to leave her speechless. The glass and iron were combined in perfect harmony, and when Zoya worked in it by day, the sun would cast and create a series of little mesmerizing rainbows. However, what would always speak to her were the walls, painted by Alina. The roaring dragon flying, the little fox, the ship resembling the Volkvolny mastering the sea, the colors and symbols of the Grisha orders were her most trusted companions during the solitary hours of her gardening.

It was there where Nikolai found her, tending to her plants and flowers. She heard him enter her safe haven, and she supposed he had come out to her when he had awoken and hadn’t seen her resting beside him. He approached her and kneeled beside where she was on the ground, a rather small pot between her hands. Nikolai knew that when she was working here like this, he would have had to let go of his privateer side, and just be the man she had fallen in love with and married. In short, he needed to be her anchor.

“Those are nice flowers,” he said, pointing to the little thing with red petals. A genuine interest coloring his voice.

“They’re wild geraniums.” Was Zoya’s noncommittal answer. Her eyes hadn’t looked up at him.

“And what is that other sprout beside the flowers?” Nikolai prompted her again, indicating the smaller, yet visible plant growing alongside the geraniums. It looked like it was enveloping the geraniums in an embrace, its green leaves a stark, yet so right, contrast with the red of the petals.

This time she raised her gaze, and her blue orbs found a pair of comforting hazel ones staring back at him.

“It’s ivy.” Again, she didn’t let herself go into any sort of explanation.

“I remember you with a vase like this when you left for the Suli caravans.”

So, he had noticed, of course he had. Zoya was always taken aback by the fact that when it came to her, Nikolai was even a closer observant than he already was.

As soon as everything had settled after the whole ordeal, she had decided that she was going to be the one to bring the news to the Ghafas. Her and only her with no escort and no Nikolai in tow. She had told him that she had to do this particular thing alone, and he had just hugged her and encouraged her to go. It had been a spiritual journey of sorts; one she had promised her other Suli sister they would take together…

“Yes,” she said in a whisper. “They were Inej’s favorite flowers. I brought a pot to her parents when I visited the camps. It was the least I could.” With her hand she showed him other three little vases with the same brightly colored flowers and green little sprout of ivy on the side. “Those are for Nina, Jesper and Wylan. It’s their present for Sankt Nikolai.”

“Zoya,” he started. She knew they’ve been over this before, and yet she couldn’t seem to let her sense of guilt leave her.

“They knew what they were doing, it was their choice.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier, Nikolai. When I met her parents – she shook her head – they treated me like their own. Like I was family. I’ve never felt so accepted, so… seen in my life, except for when I’m with you. And yet I’m part of the reason why their daughter has been taken away from them. They both have been taken away from them.” A small moment of silence, and once again she couldn’t stop the little tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“I just don’t understand how there can be such kindness after so much loss.” Zoya wondered out loud.

“It’s the nature of human beings, and also our strength.” Nikolai said. “Even after losing everything, we find it in ourselves to get back on our feet and fight for something new, something worth all the suffering.” He dragged himself closer to Zoya with his arms and then raised a hand to cup her cheek, gently steering her face in his direction. His thumb brushing away the stray tear marking her face.

“As long as there is life, there is happiness, Zoya. There is hope for a brighter future. And that’s exactly what Kaz and Inej had brought us: hope to build something better from the ashes.” He paused and behind his eyes she could see the same emotions that had been haunting her, testimony of the fact that he too had been grieving his friends.

“Don’t let your sorrow squander the hope they enabled with their sacrifice, because you wouldn’t be honoring their memories in that ways.”

“Oh, Nikolai,” she exhaled before throwing her arms around him with such a force he momentarily lost his balance. “Thank you!”

“Any time, my queen. I’ll always be here.” He promised.

“And besides, you know how much I love when I’m being all smart and wise. I couldn’t let this occasion to show it to you slip by.” He finished with a much brighter tone. Zoya softly chuckled, something she hadn’t thought being capable of mere months ago and told him with fake exasperation.

“Of course, you couldn’t. It’s your modesty I fell for after all.”

They remained in each other’s arms for an indefinite amount of time. The only indication of the time passing was the sun which har finally risen, and now was beating on the glass panels of the garden. Zoya continued tending to her plants, all a part of her in some capacity, as Nikolai watched her in a comforting silence, seated on the ground and with his back against a small tree.

“Why the ivy?” he asked her all of a sudden. His eyes returning once again on the pots near him.

“It can grow even in poor soils and although it requires more time for it to bloom than other plants, when it does its resilience it’s unmatched.” Zoya saw Nikolai nodding in understanding.

“I also found the meaning behind it fitting,” She added.

“What’s the meaning?”

“It symbolizes the constancy of love.”

There was a brief silence in which she saw him taking in the information.

“It is as fitting as it is beautiful,” he said, while he rose to his feet and brought her closer once again, placing a soft kiss on her dark mane.

As they left to go back to the palace, hand in hand, Zoya thought to herself that in life there were people whose souls were connected and strung in ways that couldn’t be explained by logic. She looked at Nikolai walking alongside her and smiled softly to herself, sure she had found the missing piece of her complicated puzzle in the golden boy beside her.

Her gait hadn’t felt this light in months.

In a glass garden, in a country ruled by a powerful Grisha queen with the heart of a dragon, a plant of geraniums and ivy grew stronger by the day, forever entwined in their embrace of constant love for the other.

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