#is this purely because i see everyone talking about gore and i miss him? yeah maybe a LITTLE bit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

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Request: Mine (Alec Volturi x Reader)

WARNING: GORE!

You had to stay clear. Heidi was bringing in the tours and Demetri was around to make sure all would run smoothly, no one being left behind. Whilst you could only smile at a few of the tourists who locked eyes with you. You figured it wouldn't hurt, they'd go one way and you'd go the other, completely clear of what would happen next. Suddenly you heard your name.

The voice was familiar but before you could recall who it was, they stepped out of the line of tourists, walking up to you with a smile. You felt your stomach drop. It was your ex boyfriend. Heidi and Demetri both looked at him but said nothing. "Well I'll be damned, I never thought I'd see you here." Your ex smiled. "It's good to see you." You said politely. Although you found it difficult to mask your unease. "Do you work here?" He asked. "Yeah." You nodded. "How have you been?" It was clear he was determined to get a conversation to you reluctantly gave in. "I've been good. Working mostly." You smiled gesturing to the room. "How have you been?" “I've been great. Travelling with friends. Partying. You know me." He winked. You hummed in 'amusement'.

"Well hello there." Heidi glided up to you both. Your ex looked her up and down and smirked. "Hey." "(Y/N)'s considered new around her and doesn't know anyone." Heidi smiled, pulling you into her side. She rubbed your arm slightly. Although you were uncertain if that was her way to say she had your back. "So who's your friend?" She smiled wider, showing her teeth. "Oh he isn't my-" You began but your ex interrupted. "I'm an old friend. (Y/N) and I have quite a history together." He replied sending you a teasing flirtatious smile. "This is my ex boyfriend." You finished. "Oh I see. Well, you only have a couple of minutes, the tour is about to start and you..." She lightly tapped your nose with her free arm. "...have to get back to work." She broke away but kept at a close distance. Supposedly not paying attention anymore but you knew she was keeping close for you.

"How long have you been here?" Your ex asked. "I've been here for nearly a year now." "Wow. No one told me you'd left. Your mum told me when I went looking for you but she had no idea where you went. She said you had just up and left." You wanted to kick yourself and groan. This wasn't going to be easy. "Why...why did you speak to my mum?" You asked. "I was looking for you. I went to your house but your mum said you had been gone for months." "Yeah, I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I needed the space and time to build a new life here. My...my life back there was pretty much ruined." Thanks to him. "Ah, yes, that wasn't my finest moment." He said quieter. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. The way I see it, it would have been worse if I stayed." "In my eyes, the worst thing I've ever done is what I did to you." He responded. You were certain that your ex had cheated on you. If he hadn't then it would be a matter of waiting until he did. Waiting for your heartbreak. Not to mention he wasn't exactly apologetic for the flirting with others, and generally tiptoeing the line of cheating.

When you ended things with him, he was determined to ruin your reputation with rumours about you such as being controlling. You saw the storm he was itching to give you. So you figured if you left, you'd be rid of him and any damage he caused, as well as he'd have no choice but to pick someone else or be his own downfall thanks to that oncoming storm.

You shrugged. "Hey...can we talk? A little more privately?" He asked softly. "I don't think I can. I really need to get back to work-" "It'll only be just a minute." He said quickly. "Alright everyone, the tour is starting, if you could all please stick together and not wander. This place is very big and who knows if we'll find you again!" Heidi's voice rang out. The last sentence received a couple of chuckles. "Enjoy the tour. It was nice to see you again." You took a step back. "Please, it's important." He said hurriedly. You didn't know how to answer. "One moment everyone!" Heidi smiled brightly as Demetri placed a hand on her back and guided her towards the corner in hushed chatter.

"Make it quick." You said flatly. "I've been thinking about us. How we left things and I've really missed you." You sighed. "I know- I know we had our issues but if we try we can work through them." "No. I think the past is in the past and I want to leave it there." You responded. "If you didn't care you wouldn't have left everything behind." He said. "You know, I have more reasons to leave than you making up stories about me whilst you play around with others feelings." You frowned slightly. "I don't blame you." He answered. "I don't care and I don't need your validation. You made your choices and I made mine." "You're just not thinking straight. You left your family. They don't even know where you are." He said. "That is none of your business." You said firmly. "Would you stop acting so entitled and being overdramatic and listen to me? It's no wonder we broke up. You do this every time!"

"Excuse me, I think that's enough now." Demetri interrupted calmly. "The tour is about to start." "Buddy... you're really not involved in this and we're having a conversation so mind your business." Your ex said through gritted teeth. Before Demetri could respond, you jumped to his defence. "Don't speak to him like that! You can speak to me like that but don't speak to him like that!" "No, he can't speak to you that way." Heidi said, sending him a pointed gaze. Her hands on her hips. Your ex looked at her. Knowing him, he wanted to snap at her like he had Demetri but as soon as his eyes landed on her, they softened and he said nothing. He wore the same look he had back then. "You know that's why I'd get to angry with you." You said softly. "You always tried to convince me that I was crazy but even now, you have a wandering eye." "What? You'd want me to blind myself? Is that what would make you happy?" He said with snark and you didn't respond. Demetri nodded to Heidi . "Are we done here?" You asked him. "No." Your ex said flatly. You sighed before turning to Heidi. She was about to speak up but you cut her off. "It's okay Heidi. I can handle this." "You make it sound like I'm the problem here." Your ex frowned. "If your colleagues didn't hover around you then perhaps we wouldn't be disagreeing right now." "It's alright, Heidi." Demetri said as he put a hand on her shoulder. "You go ahead with the group. I'll make sure he catches up." Heidi thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Very well." With a flick of her hair she moved towards the front of the group. "As I said everyone! Stay together!" She began to walk down the corridor, heading towards the throne room.

You knew at this point your ex was just shutting down. He knew that wasn't what you meant but everything he'd say from that moment forward was out of pure spite. "You do this every time!" He said in anger. "I don't want to fight with you! I'm trying to talk to you." "There's nothing to talk about. What you and I had is over." "No, it's not." He responded quickly and confidently. "You can't do that. You can't just speak to me like we just shared a ride home." He said, stepping closer. "You and I are more than that, we always have been." "We aren't anything. I've moved on and I'm happy." You responded, standing your ground. "Moved on?" He laughed. "No. No, I don't believe that. You're still standing here and we both know that when you're done with someone that you don't give them the time of day." "I'm trying to be civil and not make a scene." He laughed again, completely convinced. "Alright. Where is my replacement then, hm? Is it him?" Your ex nodded behind him towards Demetri. "No and I don't want you meeting him." You folded your arms. "Or I won't because you're lying." Your ex smirked. "You don't have to be like this babe. We can start again. We can have that happy life together we talked about. Laugh about all of this later. You and I were solid and we can be like that again." You shook your head. "No. I already told you I'm with someone else." "And do they love you like I do?" He asked. You paused. You knew Alec loved you. He just didn't tell it or show it all the time. Not in the way your previous relationships had. Alec wasn't like other people and sometimes that had challenges but you'd take that. You'd rather someone loved you and barely told you rather than someone constantly telling you they loved you merely because they loved the idea of you and wanted to keep you around. "My guess is that he loves me more." You answered quietly. It had been a long time since you had to deal with how your ex was treating you and you couldn't help but wonder if you were losing. Your ex hummed in amusement. "You tell yourself that a lot, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. Well let me tell you babe, loving you is easy." He moved closer, his voice lowering. "I promise you, I loved you more than anyone ever has and I still do. You're hurt. I get that. I hurt you but I can fix it just as easily. Just as easily as you light up my world with that beautiful face of yours. Come on, you and me." He took your arms and you shook your head. "No." You said quickly. Demetri stepped forward but you shook your head at him. "It's fine, Demetri. I can handle this." You said hurriedly. "In fact, don't you have somewhere else to be?" Your ex sneered at Demetri behind him. His grip on you tightened. "Stop it. You're getting angry at him for no reason." You said hurriedly. "Yes, I am because this dude doesn't know when to take a hint and clear off." Your ex said sharply. Demetri's eyes narrowed on your ex before turning on his heel and briskly heading down the corridors, the same way the rest of the tourists had.

"Come on, you and me." Your ex said quieter and softly. "We had amazing times together and we should never have ended things the way we did." "You're not listening to me. It is over." You emphasized. "No, it's not." He said simply. Before you could pull back, your ex pulled you in by your arms and kissed you. You immediately pulled your head away. "You can't do that!" You cried out. However you cry was drowned out by a very loud scream of rage.

Alec was in front of you both in moments and looked absolutely livid. With inhuman speed he grabbed your ex, throwing him to the ground. Alec was moving so fast that you couldn't see anything but a blur. Your ex screamed in terror as Alec dragged him by the legs, down a different corridor behind you. "Alec!?" You cried out but before you could move, Demetri held you back as Felix and Jane stepped around you, heading after Alec. Demetri forcibly made you turn in the other direction.

You thought he was taking you to the throne room but her turned a sharp corner and instead led you to the kitchen. You could only say Demetri's name, unable to form a coherent sentence. You wanted to ask him a million questions but nothing came to mind. "Your arms..." Demetri said quickly closing the gap between you to inspect your arms. You looked down to see red scratches down your fore arms. "Do these hurt?" He asked.

Now that you were aware of them, you acknowledged the burning sensation they left but you weren't even remotely concerned about that. You were worried about Alec. "No!" You said hurriedly. "I'm more concerned about Alec. He was- where did he go? What just happened!?" Demetri didn't answer, simply staring into your eyes. "Let us deal with this, understand the situation better so I can be accurate, alright? Just, let me take you to his room and be patient.” You let him, taking a glass of water with you for Demetri's peace of mind.

Jane turned around to see Demetri approaching. "How bad is it?" He asked. Alec's screams of rage and the sound of breaking furniture very loud despite the door being shut. "Bad." Felix responded. "The human is basically soup in there." "The humans final minutes were nothing less of excruciating." Jane smiled darkly. "Is the human in pieces?" Demetri said in somewhat horror. Not because he suddenly had a concern for humans. More so because humans are basically bags of fluid and if your ex had been even slightly ripped open, blood and everything else would utterly destroy the very old carpets, rugs and walls. Not to mention Alec was currently destroying everything in sight. "Friend, I'm going to say this as delicately as I can." Felix said to Demetri. "That human was very much alive when Alec ripped him apparent and tore out his organs. He then threw the organs all over the room and has since been stamping on every bone. That human is a puddle of mush and then rest of him is across the room." "How lovely..." Demetri trailed off. Although he wasn't surprised. This was Alec after all. "He needs to calm down soon. (Y/N) is worried about him." "They'll need to wait." Jane responded flatly. "It's been a long time since he's been this angry." Jane spoke of it like talking about the weather and not that her brother was completely destroying a room whilst creating a gruesome scene. "I'm surprised you're not in there and helping him." Felix said to Jane. "He wouldn't let me get close. He wanted the human to himself." Jane smiled proudly as she thought fondly of her brother. "That human was in just as much pain if I got to him." Felix blinked. "Alright, what's the plan?" "You and I go to (Y/N) and explain the situation, then we go and inform Aro. Jane will stay here with Alec until he calms down. Jane, do not let him go to his room afterwards, (Y/N) is in there and they can't see him like that." Demetri said and Jane nodded as Felix moved towards Demetri.

"Okay you're telling me not to worry but now there are two of you and you won't tell me what's happening." Your eyes narrowed on the two. "It's complicated and we don't know how to explain without crossing a line." Demetri responded. "Wait, Demetri, can we even tell them? Is it our place to tell?" Felix asked. "I don't think we have much of a choice. Do you think Alec will?" Demetri turned to Felix. You looked between the two. "If you don't tell me what's going on then I will scream." You warned them. The two simply looked at you, seemingly unconvinced that you would. You inhaled a deep breath. "Wait! Wait, hold on little human!" Felix said quickly raising his arms. "We'll tell you just don't do that." Demetri said quickly. Neither of the two wanted to find out what you screaming would do when Alec is already off the rails. It could be those two next for all they knew if you did.

Before Felix could talk, Demetri cut him off. "I'll tell them. You are awful at breaking news to anyone." Felix huffed, annoyed he couldn't but at the same time slightly offended with the lack of faith his friend had in him. Although Felix knew his friend was right. He really was the worst at that. "You know that Alec can be temperamental and is very driven by his emotions when he wants to be." Demetri began. "You also know that sometimes be can be so aggravated that he has..." Demetri trailed off. "Tantrums." Felix said flatly. Demetri sent him a pointed look. "What else can you call this? We'll be here all day if we want to look at this with rose tinted glasses. It's tantrums." Felix continued in his defence and Demetri sighed. "Just as Jane does. You know of this but haven't ever experienced it for yourself. This is one of those times. Alec has disposed of the human and is currently on a uncontrollable rampage of destruction. All we can do is wait for him to calm on his own." "Why...why has this provoked such a reaction?" You asked. "Well-" Demetri was cut off again by Felix. "Because the twins do this every time they don't get their own way or something happens they don't like... usually the first one." "Felix!" Demetri scolded him. "It's true! (Y/N) lives here, they might as well know that when the twins don't get what they want, this is what happens!" Felix said to defend himself again. "What I was going to say is," Demetri said as he narrowed his eyes on Felix in warning. "Alec is very... protective of you." "Yeah but also possessive." Felix interrupted again. "Felix, I swear-" "I'm just telling the truth!" Demetri quietly growled in slight frustration. "Alec doesn't really know how to channel his emotions and his past has very much to do with that. He can't express himself correctly and so sometimes the twins have all this pent up emotion that they don't know what to do with it and...this happens." You blinked. "I can't do anything to help him?" "Darling, there is no reasoning with Alec right now in these states. It's best you leave him be and when he's ready he'll come to you." You sighed sitting on Alec's bed. "Might I speak with you about something for a moment? Something that has caused some concern?" Demetri asked. You nodded. "What's up?" You asked quietly. Demetri moved closer to you. "The way that human spoke to you. You know that isn't okay, right?" Demetri asked. You could see concern matching in both Felix and Demetri's eyes. "No one who ever claims to love you should ever treat you like that. You know that, don't you?" You nodded slowly. "I know." You said quietly. "I couldn't make excuses for him after some time and I know that when someone treats you like that... it'll only get worse. So I left. I told myself I deserved better and that I'd never go back." "Right on." Felix smirked softly from the doorway. "Did Alec hear?" You asked. Slowly, Demetri nodded. “He heard the human doubting him, shall we say? Although he was under control. He was approaching when I left when the human kissed you, Alec lost control.” You recalled the rage filled scream that rang through your ears. That must have been Alec. "Do you think he was worried? That I'd go back?" You asked. Demetri thought about it for a moment. "I think he doubts himself. How deserving he is of you. That being said, he'd hold you to him regardless." Demetri cracked a smile and you couldn't help but giggle. That sounded like Alec. "As I said, he's protective of you. You mean everything to him and when someone disrespects you. He will take that very personally." Demetri assured you before stepping back. "Give him some time. Maybe a couple of hours. He'll calm down and come back to you." "What did he do to him? My ex?" You asked. "I think it best that you don't think about that. It's better if you don't know." Demetri responded.

Once Demetri closed Alec's door, Felix let out a sigh of relief. "They nearly screamed when we didn't tell them. Can you imagine if Alec heard them scream right now in this state? You and I would be done for!" "Now we'll be screaming next if the twins over heard what you said about them." Demetri's eyes narrowed. "We'll both get Jane's gift for that." "It was nothing but the truth!" Felix said. Demetri sighed, walking with more purpose. "(Y/N) is with us now, they'd figure that out eventually! Demetri, don't walk away from me!" Felix strode after his friend.

After an hour of worrying, Alec returned to his room. He stood in his open door way, staring you down. "Are you okay?" You asked before you could even think. "You shouldn't have seen that." He said lowly. "Alec..." You trailed off with worry. After a moment of staring you down, he marched towards you.

Alec collided with you so hard that you fell back upon his bed. His lips were on yours before you knew it as he climbed further on top of you. You pulled back and hurriedly said his name before he moved back in for another kiss. "Alec! Alec!" You said hurriedly, taking his face into your hands. His eyes were a deep red, an improvement from the pitch black ones that met your gaze before but it was clear that Alec was still very much upset, even as his control was gradually returning. "Are you okay?" You asked. Alec swallowed, his stare intense. "Sweetheart, everything is okay." You said weakly, feeling tears begin to build in your throat. "You're the only one that matters." You assured him, stroking his cheek his your thumb.

You needed him to be sure that only Alec mattered to you. Unable to stand even the thought that Alec doubted that. Alec caught sight of your arm and a quiet sound that resembled a whine escaped him. The red marks that streaked down from your elbow to your wrist. Alec began to grow irate, unable to tear his eyes from your arm as he immediately pulled back from you and your hold to grasp your arm. You knew Alec was trying to figure out if he had done that but you couldn't tell him. You didn't know if it had been Alec or your ex when Alec grabbed him with such speed, tearing him from you.

"It's okay." You said to him softly. "I-I didn't even feel it. It was so quick and with everything going on, I didn't even realise what had happened." "Does it hurt?" Alec asked. His voice made it clear that he was grasping at every straw of control he had. All the while his voice tone was slightly higher, almost like whine he was trying to hold back. "It stings a little every now and then but it's honestly just a scratch." That Alec knew. There wasn't any bleeding or even a break of the skin. However that didn't make him any happier about the situation. He exhaled and you barely heard the small whine before Alec pulled your arm to his cold lips, pressing kisses against the scratch. "I'm more concerned about you and if you're okay." You said to him. Whilst you had been told about how angry Alec could get, this had been the first time you had ever witnessed it. Alec's gaze met yours once more. "Kiss me." He said lowly before pressing his lips against yours. You returned the kiss, without any further questions. When he was ready and if he wanted to, he'd say what's on his mind. "Come here." You said to him quietly and he leaned back slightly, allowing you to move up to the pillows on his bed. He followed and you pulled him into your chest. "I'm not going anywhere." You whispered as Alec's eyes fluttered shut, surrounded my your scent. One hand played with his hair, the other across his back. Alec wrapped his own arms around you sliding under your back. Every so often he'd squeeze you that little bit closer to him.

#request #twilight #volturi #the volturi #reader #alec volturi #oneshot #one shot

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 8714 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, blood, severe injuries, fear, anxiety, death of a character A/N: This is the FINAL part of a miniseries! You can find the other chapters on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Shane go missing.

Your name: submit What is this?

Two weeks later

“I can actually do it myself,” you insisted, feeling a blush in your cheeks as Daryl pulled your hand over onto his lap and bent over it, luckily oblivious to the pink glow now filling your cheeks.

He huffed at you. “I’m sure ya can,” he drawled, “but it’s definitely easier for someone with two hands, don’t ya think?”

You watched as he methodically and carefully snipped the stitches in your hand and pulled the sutures away, apologizing if they tugged at all. A lot had happened in the last two weeks. Pretty much everyone had come around to the fact that Shane had hurt himself in an attempt to get the group to abandon you. There had been a massive fight between him and Rick and since then Shane had been confined to his tent while he healed. When Hershel found out what had happened, he told Rick that Shane couldn’t stay, but Rick had already decided that he had go. His best friend seemed to be growing more bitter and more unstable by the day.

But Shane was still around temporarily, and because of that Daryl had refused to leave you to sleep unguarded at night. You’d argued that it would be fine and that you didn’t really think Shane would try to pull anything else, but the archer was insistent. Eventually, you caved. Daryl had hauled your cot and bedding to his tent and set them up along the opposite wall from his, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck at the strange nervousness and yet gratitude he felt knowing you’d be so close.

You both fell into an easy routine together. Your physical closeness may have been borne out of necessity but the other growing closeness developed organically. Spending time with Daryl was easy. He didn’t mind when you were quiet for hours on end, lost in your own head as you aimlessly tossed twigs into the fire. He didn’t mind when you wanted to talk about something specific or nothing at all, and you felt the same way about him. The silences didn’t bother you with Daryl and every time he did open his mouth it was either to make you laugh or to say something you were genuinely interested in hearing. He was constantly checking on you over the smallest things. If you shivered in the evening as you spent time around the fire, he’d insist that you moved closer to the flames or he’d go get a blanket from his tent and toss it down on your lap without a word before he took his place again. He’d make sure you were eating and would refill your canteen whenever he thought about it. You did what you could to return the favors but he usually seemed to beat you to it.

“I guess with these out I can finally start hunting again,” you said. “And going out and gathering stuff.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, his eyes narrowed as he focused on removing the very last stitch. “There.” He straightened up and looked at the slightly raised pink scar down the center of your palm. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he ran a finger lightly down the length of it.

You startled at the unfamiliar sensation, a little strange due to the altered sensation along the length of the scar, but even more so because of the way your heart jumped at the touch of Daryl’s fingers so light on your palm. You involuntarily pulled you hand back and your eyes shot up to meet his.

He gave you a sheepish look. “Sorry. Did that hurt?” He regretted it the moment he’d done it, worried about your reaction.

You shook your head. “No, it just—”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” you finished quietly, chewing on your bottom lip a little anxiously. He quirked an eyebrow at you but simply stood up.

“Alright. Well, couple more days and that asshole will be outta here,” he growled, glancing over in the direction of Shane’s tent. He wasn’t yet allowing himself to acknowledge that he was worried things would go back to the way they were before once Shane was gone. That is, you’d retreat back to your space and back to yourself. He was really liking his time with you and he didn’t want it to end. The archer shook his head and glanced back at you. Your eyes were now on Shane’s tent, too but your expression was fretful. “S’matter?” he prompted you.

You sighed. “I just feel like it’s my fault he has to leave…”

“Nah. Nah, it ain’t. Y/N, if it weren’t you it’d be somethin’ else. He’s been spiralin’ down since Rick showed up alive and took his family back. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with ya, not really.”

You still looked unsure but the worry lines in your forehead eased a little. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Listen, I told Carol I’d go help her with that new tent. Ya gonna be alright over here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm. I’ll be right here. Andrea gave me a new book.” You did glance a little longingly over your shoulder at the far tree line and Daryl was always amazed that even after the traumatic incident in those very same woods that you still wanted to be out there almost every minute of the day.

“Hey,” he said, calling your attention back to him. “We’ll go out and hunt tomorrow, alright?”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.” You watched his broad shoulders fade toward the main camp.

Carol was waiting when Daryl arrived. Her old tent had started to leak and Daryl had promised to help her get the new one they’d found set up. She stood up as he strode over, already flustered by the number of pins and ropes and metal poles. “If I’d known I’d be living out of a tent I definitely would have stuck with the Girl Scouts when I was a kid,” she said, giving Daryl a helpless look.

He let out a gruff laugh. “Ya got that the wrong way around,” he said, pointing to the pole she’d already slipped through the tent. She stared at it and sighed. “S’alright. That’s why I’m here right?” he said. “Gimme that,” he said, grabbing the bundle of poles in her hands and setting to work. In no time they had the tent upright and were going about staking it down. Carol handed Daryl another stake and he pounded it into the ground securing down the corner.

“So… what’s going on with you and Y/N exactly?” she asked him.

The archer froze and shot a look at her before returning his eyes to what he was doing, grateful for a task to focus on even as he felt his ears growing red. “What’d ya mean?”

“Well,” Carol continued, “you’re sharing a tent,” she said with a smile.

Daryl scoffed. “So? I shared a tent with T-dog once. Ya gonna ask me if we held hands?”

Carol laughed and smirked at him. “Well, did you?” Daryl rolled his eyes at her and she laughed harder.

“We’re sharin’ a tent cuz there’s a psycho that probably is blamin’ all his problems on her. And I don’t want shit to go sideways.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just sharing a tent for purely practical reasons,” Carol said. Daryl could hear the skepticism in her voice and he straightened up after tying off the knot to the stake.

“The hell are ya on about?” Daryl growled. But even as he tried to act gruff and brush her off, he felt that heat growing in his chest that was becoming familiar when he thought of you.

“You two just seem to get along,” Carol said. “That’s all.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, moving to the next corner of the tent. Something about that response made Carol laugh again.

“You’re so sensitive,” she murmured, eliciting an eyeroll from him. “Daryl, I just like to see you happy. And lately, since you’ve been spending so much time with Y/N, you’ve been happy,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t deny that. She was right. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, his hands still on the last length of cord before he tied it off and pounded in the stake. He stood up and stepped back, taking in the structure. “Alright. All done.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully, surveying it. She gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and smiled. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, chewing on the side of his thumbnail, glancing up at her.

“If you really like her,” she paused and shrugged, “tell her. Life is short these days.” She knew that as well as anyone. A husband, abusive asshole or not, and a precious little girl were gone to this world.

Daryl only ducked his head and lazily twirled a piece of grass between his fingers. “I’ll see ya,” he murmured, turning and heading back toward his tent. He was expecting you to be sitting beside the fire where you’d been when he left, but that spot was empty. He approached the tent and stopped outside the door. “Y/N? Ya in there?” When there was no answer, he unzipped it and peeked inside. No sign of you. The book that had been in your hand was on the tent floor and he bent and picked it up, setting it on the upturned box that was serving as a nightstand next to your cot. That’s when he realized your knife was there. He’d been thinking maybe you had to go use the bathroom, but you never left camp without your knife at your hip, whether it was for two minutes or two hours. And it wasn’t like you to leave a book on the ground. You treated the damn things like they were some sacred tomes. He felt panic start to grow in his chest and left the tent in a hurry, his blue eyes scanning the area where everyone else was set up and the tree line. He didn’t see you anywhere.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and took off running toward the main camp. He found Lori and Carol preparing some food for dinner and stopped beside them. “Hey—have ya’ll seen Y/N anywhere? She come through here at all?” He directed the question at Lori since Carol had been busy with him getting the tent set up.

She stood up and dusted her hands off on her jeans, shaking her head. Her eyes went a little wide with worry as she registered the deep concern on Daryl’s face. “No, I—I haven’t seen her. You can’t find her?”

Daryl didn’t even stay to answer. He just tore off in the direction of the farmhouse and bounded up onto the front porch. Glenn and Maggie both stood up at the expression on his face. “Ya’ll see Y/N? Did she come up here?”

Maggie shook her head. “No,” Glenn answered, immediately worried. “What’s going on?”

Daryl swore under his breath and paced a restless circle, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I—I was gone for maybe an hour helpin’ Carol and now I can’t find her anywhere. She wouldn’ta gone off without her knife or nothin’,” he said. His jaw clenched and Glenn watched the muscle twitch. Daryl’s eyes quickly landed on the tent Shane was confined to and he took off at a full sprint toward it. Glenn was on his heels now.

“Daryl! Daryl, take it easy!” Glenn yelled after him. It drew the attention of the rest of the group and soon Rick and Andrea were standing beside Glenn as Daryl ripped back the entrance to Shane’s tent.

Daryl’s stomach twisted. Shane’s tent was empty. He kicked out at a milk crate that had some of Shane’s things on it and it toppled over. “Shane’s gone and Y/N is missin’!” he roared at Rick.

Rick gulped. A hard pit formed in his stomach. “Daryl—Daryl, just calm down,” Rick said.

That had the opposite effect. “Calm down? Calm down?!” he roared. “This ain’t no coincidence! I told ya he didn’t deserve to stay here to heal up, and now look what’s happened!”

“We’ll find them! We’ll find them. We will. Just—”

“Nah. I’m gonna track that fuckin’ prick and if he’s laid so much as a finger on her, he’s a dead man.” Daryl took off without another word, racing back to the last place he’d seen you, his eyes scanning the ground the whole way, hoping for a track, a trail, something.

“Dale, get the guns,” Rick said. “Lori, you and Carol take Carl up to the house and see if you can wait inside with Hershel and the girls.” Lori nodded and gave Carol’s arm a gentle squeeze. Rick rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face.

Andrea was stunned. “What do we do?”

Rick shut his eyes for a moment and pulled in a breath. “We get our guns and we look. We hope Daryl can pick up a trail and we hope we aren’t too late.”

You had been sitting contentedly by the fire reading when you decided you wanted some tea. You knew there were still some dried spicebush leaves in your pack from your last foraging trip and you went in to get them. You were crouched beside your pack, digging in the pocket when you heard a metallic sound that was easily identifiable. It was the slide of a pistol being drawn back and released, a bullet moving into the chamber. You froze with your hands in your pack and slowly turned. You could see Shane outside the window netting and his gun was aimed right at you.

“Get up. Slowly. Leave all your shit.”

You gulped and did so, replacing your pack against the wall and abandoning your book on the floor.

“Come over here. Zip the tent up and don’t even think about trying anything because I will kill you right here,” Shane growled, and you believed him. “Let’s go. Now.”

Again, you complied. You glanced desperately toward the main camp, hoping with every part of you that Daryl would be headed back or somehow happen to look over and see what was happening, but you knew you didn’t have any options except to comply. Comply and hope for an opening to save yourself.

Shane’s gun was still trained on you as you stepped around the outside of the tent. He was gritting his teeth in anger as you stared back at him. You were determined to remain calm and in control.

He nudged the barrel of his gun in the direction of the tree line. “Move. Let’s go.”

You felt sick, knowing that once you went into those trees the chance that you would ever come back out was low. But what choice did you have? He had a fucking gun on you and you had nothing.

You made your way toward the woods. Shane pressed the muzzle into your back. “Faster. And don’t even think about making a fucking sound. I will shoot you right here. I don’t even care. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about you going all psycho-killer. Wouldn’t have to worry about Lori anymore. Or Carl.”

You bit your tongue to stop a retort.

Soon, you were under the dark canopy of trees, cloaked in shade and moving further in with Shane’s gun at your back. He was nervous, on edge, and understandably so, because you knew if Daryl caught him… he’d be dead in an instant. You decided your best course of action was to try to reason with him. You really did believe that he was just fucked up from being in love with a woman he couldn’t have. This was all misplaced blame and aggression. He really wanted to fuck Rick up, but that loyal part of him, that police partner, wouldn’t let him. Some part of him couldn’t bear to do that to Carl and Lori, even while another part of him was desperate to. You were an easy target, the next best thing to blame for his failed attempts to get back into the place he wanted to be, to regain some control, to prove he knew best and was still The Protector. If he had been able to show everyone that you were really a threat and that he and not Rick had taken care of it, he really thought maybe that would win Lori over. But that had all backfired. Now you were just easy to blame for all his problems.

“Shane, I know this isn’t really what you want,” you said quietly.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he growled back, nudging you sharply with the muzzle of his gun again.

“I don’t want you to have to leave either. I know it isn’t fair,” you continued. “You took care of everyone for a while before Rick showed up.”

“I said shut up!” he spat again through clenched teeth. “Ya know what? Sit the fuck down. Right there, against that tree.” He shoved you hard and you stumbled, barely catching yourself with your hands on the large oak before your face would have collided with it.

You obeyed and sat with your back against the tree, gulping at the dryness in your throat, and turning to stare directly at the gun pointed in your face.

Something about how calm you were being, how steady, was completely freaking Shane the fuck out. He wanted you to snap. He wanted to be able to say that he was right about you and you were a danger to everyone in camp, like you were some unpredictable monster. But you just sat there looking up at him, now completely silent, your eyes flickering between the muzzle of his gun and his face. Shane swore under his breath and paced back in forth in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements. You bided your time, trying to come up with something that would defuse this whole situation.

“How is this going to fix anything?” you asked him. “This is only going to make everything worse.”

He didn’t stop pacing and occasionally shooting a look at you that made your blood run cold. You were starting to think that maybe there was no reasoning with him…

“You can just let me go. I’ll just tell everyone I needed to get out of camp for a bit. You can wander back in like nothing happened,” you said.

He pointed the gun at you again and his lip curled. “There’s no going back from this. No going back from everything that’s already happened. And I know there is something wrong with you. I know it. If I’m not going to be here to keep an eye on you, I need to end this now so you can’t hurt anyone. Because I know you will snap eventually. I saw what you did to those men.” Shane got right into your face, poking you in the shoulder with the muzzle of his gun.

“I was defending myself,” you said quietly, feeling guilty and horrified at yourself even as you tried to justify it to Shane.

“So you say,” he growled, his pistol now aimed at your forehead.

“If I was going to snap like you’re saying, wouldn’t now be a good time?” you said quietly. “Obviously you’re a threat to me. But I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

He scoffed and straightened up again, resuming his pacing. “What—what the hell happened to you, huh? What fucked up thing twisted you to the point where you could do what you did to those men? Do you even remember it? Do you even know how many times you stabbed them?” he pressed. He was trying to agitate you, but it didn’t work.

Your stomach was churning with the foggy memory of being covered in their blood, of seeing their corpses on the ground, but you only stared back at Shane. No way in hell you were divulging what you’d been through to Shane, gunpoint or not.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and you watched as the muscle in his jaw clenched. He charged toward you again. “You know what? I’m done with this,” he growled. He pressed the gun to your forehead, aiming at a downward angle. The metal bit into your skin. You stared up at him briefly, eyes wide but surprisingly calm, and Shane watched in some disbelief as you finally just shut them and seemed to resign yourself to the fact that you were about to die.

That hesitation was all you needed.

You shoved Shane’s arm away and the gun with it and snatched the knife at his hip, ripping it free from its sheath and slashing at him, leaving a good gash on his arm. But a knife wouldn’t be any match for Shane with a gun. He was a firearm instructor and you knew his aim was deadly accurate, so before he could entirely recover from his surprise you ran at him full force and the two of fell to the ground hard. The pistol flew from his hands and landed in the leaf little a few feet away. You began to crawl desperately toward it, trying to put distance between you and Shane as quickly as possible, but you let out a yell as you felt him grab hold of you and pull you back.

The next thing you knew he was over you, trying his hardest to get the knife from your hand. You were slashing at him desperately, catching him on the forearms as you struggled beneath him. You caught him with a particularly strong slash but the next moment he had your hands pinned in his and he wrenched the knife from you. The rush of blood was loud in your ears and now you were on the defensive. You shielded yourself with your arms as best you could and continued to struggle beneath him, but his weight was too much.

Shane suddenly managed to push your arms out of the way and you saw the knife coming toward you as if in slow motion. It was heading straight for the center of your chest. You thrust your left arm out and felt the blade pierce it deeply before ripping clean and lodging in your left shoulder. You let out a scream of pain, but as Shane was now leaning over you, you managed to get your knee up underneath him and thrust it as hard as you could into his groin.

He let out an agonized yell and rolled off you, abandoning the knife that was still lodged deeply in your shoulder. You gritted your teeth and were vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face and the fact that you were trembling. But there was no time to stop. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to live. You clutched at the knife in your shoulder, staring briefly with shock at how deeply it was embedded, but didn’t dare to pull it out. Rolling over and holding yourself up on your lacerated forearms, you fixed your eyes on the gun and made a desperate lunge for it. You felt hands on your legs again, dragging you back.

Back toward the edge of the tree line, Daryl had picked up the trail easily and was frantically tracking. Rick and the others were on his heels, glancing around nervously, straining their eyes in the veiled darkness beneath the canopy and their ears in the closeness of the trees. But it wasn’t long that they had to trail behind the archer because soon a strained yell made it to their ears. Daryl felt his blood run cold.

He paused hardly for a moment before he tore off through the trees in the direction he’d heard your voice echo from. “Y/N!” He wanted you to know he was on his way. He needed you to just hang on. He pushed himself to run through the nausea that had risen when that sound, your pained voice, had met his ears. He tore through the foliage, the sound of pounding boots on the soil loud behind him as the others followed.

“Daryl! Daryl, slow down! We can’t just—” Rick paused as he had to bust through some shrubs. “We can’t just barrel in there!” But it was as if the archer hadn’t heard anything. He just continued running, trying to listen over his own gasping breath and pounding pulse but simultaneously afraid of what he would hear.

Crack.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Daryl skidded to a stop, frozen. His face blanched, almost ashen as Rick caught up and glanced over at him. Sweat was pouring down from their foreheads and running down their necks, soaking the thin cotton of their shirts. A small strangled noise escaped Daryl’s lips as he searched the ground frantically again for the trail, needing to know he was running in the right direction. He spotted it. Direction confirmed, he took off at an even madder pace than before. “Y/N!” There was no answer.

But he couldn’t allow himself to think the worst. He couldn’t. That couldn’t happen to you. After everything you’d already been through… how could he have let this happen? Why had he turned his back on you for even a minute with that prick still around? He felt shaky and weak even as he ran.

The group had just pushed through another thick swath of understory when Daryl saw a bundle ahead, lying motionless on the ground. His breath caught in his throat and his boots rooted into the soil for a moment. But he pushed himself to move forward again.

Behind him he was vaguely aware of a gasp from Andrea and some murmur from Glenn.

As he moved closer, he realized there was a second shape ahead and as his eyes refocused, he saw that it was you. You were leaned up against a big oak tree, propped up against the rough bark, your head lolled toward your chest. Some pained gasp or muted scream, catching mostly in his throat, left his lips before he tore off toward you again. As he fell to his knees beside you, he took in the soaked crimson of your shirt. Your arms were cut up and absolutely covered in blood. Then Daryl’s eyes landed on the hilt of the knife still embedded in your left shoulder. His hands shook as he hesitated before lifting your chin, terrified that your skin would be cold and lifeless. You were bruised and battered, bleeding from a swollen and split lip and a gash near your hairline, but there was some semblance of warmth still in your skin, though you were pale. More miraculously yet, when he gently lifted your chin, you started to stir and Daryl watched in desperation as you struggled to open your eyes, eventually succeeding.

“Hey, hey. S’alright. I’ve got ya. I’ve got ya…” He could hear his own voice shake as he spoke.

You gulped, wanting to clear the taste of iron from your mouth. “I had to,” you managed to croak out. “I had to.”

Daryl knew you were referring to Shane’s lifeless body behind him on the ground. “S’ok. It don’t matter. Don’t talk now, alright? Just rest. I’ve got ya.”

Daryl felt someone behind him and turned to see Glenn just behind him. His face was pale as he took in your condition. “Her shoulder... Oh my God,” Glenn gasped.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Daryl said forcefully. He carefully slid his arm behind your back and another underneath your knees. You were fighting to stay awake. “Daryl…” you murmured. You felt so small in his arms as he lifted you. Daryl was vaguely aware of your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it hard before you fell unconscious again, going limp in his arms. He turned and started heading back to the farm, moving as quickly as he dared with you in his arms, conscious of the knife still wedged cruelly into you. The sight of it protruding from you made him sick with rage. Rick was kneeling beside Shane, his face downturned, as Daryl breezed past. Andrea stood just behind him with a hand pressed over her mouth, watching as Daryl carried your bloodied body past her.

As Daryl’s broad shoulders disappeared, Glenn bent and retrieved the pistol lying on the leaf litter among streaks of your blood. It felt like a lead weight in his palm.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl sat slumped in a chair beside your prone form laid out on the bed, covered over in the blankets. He was leaned over forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles shone white.

After days of agonizing waiting, there was a soft noise from you and his eyes shot up urgently to see you stirring a little on the pillow. He rocketed to his feet so fast that the chair he’d been in clattered backward loudly to the floor. “Doc!” he yelled out. Hershel rushed in a moment later.

You dragged your eyelids open with a great amount of effort and the first thing you saw were Daryl’s piercing blue eyes looking down at you with immense concern. You moistened your lips with your tongue and cleared your throat, which felt dry and scratchy, preparing to speak. He watched as your expression melted into a veil of confusion. “I’m not… not dead?”

Daryl felt a painful pang in his chest as he watched you spinning with disbelief.

Hershel leaned over you with a kindly and somewhat sad expression on his face. “You most definitely are not. Though you surprised all of us after what you went through,” he said putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

Your eyes turned back to Daryl’s. “Shane—” His name seemed to strangle and catch in your throat. “I—”

“I know. Ya had to. S’alright,” Daryl drawled, his brow furrowing low over his eyes.

You mouthed wordlessly for a moment, your eyes brimming with tears. “Is he—did he—?”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, his expression full of concern. “He’s gone.”

You felt that you already knew the answer but it still made your stomach churn. You laid more heavily into the pillow and shut your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. When your eyes finally fluttered open again they were still a little glassy. Daryl wondered at this display of remorse, of regret you had for a man who had clearly taken you into the woods to kill you.

But what Daryl saw next was you clearly struggling against some flashback. You squeezed your eyes shut and your breathing quickened. Beads of sweat broke out on your hairline and your face tensed.

Daryl’s hand shot out to gently grab yours before he even knew what he was doing. “Hey.” He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Y/N. S’alright. You’re safe,” he drawled.

Your eyes opened and you glanced down at your hand in his. Daryl withdrew, suddenly self-conscious. You nodded and seemed to come back to the present.

You reached across yourself to grip your left shoulder, a wave of pain running through you and a grimace tightening your features. You felt thick gauze beneath your fingers. As you moved you became aware that you had many little rows of stitches on your arms and a few gashes wrapped up in bandages as well. Even your hands were cut up from your attempts to defend yourself. You extended your arm in front of yourself and took in the damage done by Shane’s knife.

“I don’t understand,” you said softly. “I thought for sure I was going to die out there.” The way you said it was so matter-of-fact and Daryl felt a rush of anger overwhelm him for a moment. Shane was lucky he was dead when Daryl had gotten there… He’d gotten off easy with a single round to the chest.

Hershel nodded. “You have a lot of strength in you. Rest. Everything is going to be just fine. You’re going to heal up and be back to normal before you know it, though that shoulder may need a little extra TLC.” The doctor took his leave and your eyes found Daryl’s again. He read worry on your face.

“What is it?” he drawled.

You gulped. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m healed up,” you said, now avoiding his eyes.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why the hell would ya do that?”

His tone was forceful again and drew your eyes back to his. “The others—after what happened, I can’t imagine they want me around anymore.”

Daryl sighed heavily and righted his chair again, sinking down in it close at your bedside. “For once yer wrong about somethin’,” he said. “Nobody wants ya to leave. Ya didn’t do anything more than defend yourself, just like ya did with those men before. Anyone can glance at ya for one second and see that.”

You shifted in bed, trying to make your injured shoulder more comfortable, laying your other hand over it absently, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You still looked unsure.

“Y/N, when we found ya you had a damn knife sticking out of your shoulder.” He paused and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck a little anxiously. “I—” his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “I thought we lost ya.”

You peered at him curiously.

He leaned forward. “Listen to me, if anybody even so much as looks at ya like ya shouldn’t be here, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Daryl watched, a little anxiously, as your lips parted softly. “I’m not sure I deserve that from you,” you finally managed quietly. “You’ve already done enough. Daryl, I suspect you saved my life.” You gulped and stared down toward the edge of the blankets. “In more ways than one…”

The archer averted his eyes down toward his boots and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, nervous and wavering between his insecurity and need to reassure you, not allowing himself to really think on what you’d just said. “Hey. Yer a part of this group, even if ya ain’t always felt like it.”

You studied him for a long moment before you spoke again. “So are you,” you said perceptively. His blue eyes shot up to meet yours and you gave him a weak smile. “Can you do me a favor?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “’Course.”

“Can—can you help me take a walk outside? I need some air,” you said quietly.

“Are ya sure yer up for that? Ya had surgery on that shoulder. Ya lost a lot of blood. Ya just woke up after bein’ out of it for three days. I don’t think it’s—” Concern creased his forehead.

You nodded. “I’m sure. You won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’ve at least learned that by now.” You felt a bloom of warmth in your chest as you spoke those words, coupled with the realization of their truth almost at the same time as they left your lips. That burst of heat you felt was reflected in a pink hue in the archer’s face and the tips of his ears.

He looked a little bashful but nodded and acquiesced to your request. “Alright. C’mon,” he said, gently taking your hand, avoiding the injuries carefully, and doing his best to ignore how nervous he felt when his fingers closed around it. He helped you out of bed and steadied you as you got to your feet. You glanced up at him, and your expression was so open and earnest he was frankly shocked by it. Could it really be that you were looking that way at him? His fingers were light under your elbow and his other hand was ghosting behind your back, centimeters away from making contact if needed as you started toward the door. “Ya alright?”

You nodded and gulped at the rush of feelings his hand around yours had brought, trying your hardest to ignore it. All you could do was nod. The two of you emerged onto the porch and Glenn and Maggie stood up immediately from their place nearby in the seating area. Both of them were all smiles to see you on your feet.

“You’re up,” Glenn said, looking at you with a bewildered smile. “This is amazing. It’s so good to see you awake!” His expression was nothing but kindness.

“How are you feelin’?” Maggie asked.

You nodded, glancing back over at Daryl and relaxing some as you saw one corner of his mouth was twitched up. His blue eyes were fixed on your face and he couldn’t look away. Seeing you actually awake and already on your feet was a huge relief after many days of sickening worry. “I feel alright. A little tired,” you admitted. Almost as if one cue you wavered a little on your feet, your knees feeling suddenly weak.

Daryl’s hand landed flush against the small of your back, immediately steadying you. “Easy,” he rumbled. “Ya alright?” You nodded, quite sure your cheeks were pink, and when you glanced back at him and mumbled a small “thanks” you thought maybe his cheeks were pink too. You turned back to Glenn and Maggie and your eyes drifted to all the numerous stitches on your arms. “I’m definitely a little worse for wear. But could have been worse…” you trailed off.

“Definitely,” Glenn said, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re all just so glad you’re okay.”

Just at that moment you heard boots on the stairs and you looked up to see Rick, thumbs slung into his pockets as usual. Your heart rate increased with anxiety and you gulped at the sudden tightness in your throat. You’d killed his best friend. You’d pulled the trigger and killed Shane. “I’m sorry,” you said to the Sheriff.

But Rick was smiling at you with tears in his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “This is my fault,” he said suddenly, a rasp in his voice from emotion and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is my fault and I am so sorry. Daryl told me—and I should have listened. Shane was way more of a threat than I was willing to admit. This should have never happened to you,” he drawled. “And I hope you can forgive me at some point.”

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking in the sun and breathing in the freshness of the outside air. “It’s already forgiven,” you said softly, nodding at him.

Daryl stared at you in awe of how, despite everything you’d been through, you still could extend that forgiveness so easily.

Daryl sensed some shift in you and his brow drew down low over his eyes. “Let’s get ya back to bed. C’mon.”

You allowed him to help you back through the farmhouse and even into bed as you struggled not to put any weight on your left shoulder, wincing as you moved. Daryl watched you settled in and stood a bit awkwardly at your bedside. He nervously ran a hand back through his hair. “Well, I’ll let ya get some sleep,” he drawled, turning to leave.

“Daryl.”

He turned back to glance at you and your expression was a bit hesitant. “Hmm?”

“Would you stay? …please?”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. He planted himself right back down in the chair at the side of the bed and watched as some of the tension on your face eased.

“Thanks,” you said quietly with a sigh. Daryl watched as you closed your eyes and shifted, trying to make your shoulder more comfortable, but a moment later your eyes fluttered open again and met his. “He put the gun to my forehead,” you suddenly said quietly.

Daryl’s stomach plummeted and then swirled with anger. He stared back at you, incredulous with rage easily readable on his face.

“I made my peace with the fact that he was going to pull the trigger.” Your voice was somewhat disconnected, distant. “But then… he hesitated. And I took the chance and I fought.”

Daryl gulped. “Ya made it. Yer alright.”

You nodded and looked at him for a long moment, seemingly on the edge of saying something else, but you finally just sighed and your eyelids, now heavy with exhaustion, closed again. Soon, you were asleep. And Daryl stayed at your bedside and drifted off himself. _ _ _ _ _ _

Some time later You tossed down the game stringer, loaded with squirrels, in front of Daryl. “Ten,” you said, a wide grin spreading across your face. “What’d ya get?”

He looked up at you and affected an unamused expression. “Nine,” he drawled, pointing to his harvest waiting to be cleaned.

“Ha! I win again,” you said, absolutely brimming with joy. “I thought you said you were good at hunting?” you teased him.

He rolled his eyes at you and looked over as you sank down beside him. “Ya beat me by one. Ain’t exactly a landslide, is it?”

“A win is a win,” you announced with satisfaction.

He rolled his eyes again, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he caught you rubbing your shoulder. “Sore?” he asked you, his brow drawing down. “Maybe ya shouldn’t be hunting with that bow again yet.”

Your face softened as you caught his blue eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just a little tired, that’s all. Hershel says I need to build my strength up again.” Daryl’s eyes caught on the scar where the knife had been lodged into your shoulder. It was matched by many smaller ones on your arms, all with the same pink hue due to their newness. He could also see the brand on your arm, 1048, the remnant from your time under The Copperheads. Before, you would wear long sleeves in the height of the Georgian summer just to avoid anyone seeing that mark. Now there were a lot more scars added to it, but you didn’t seem to care. It was like you finally had a weight lifted off your shoulders and you felt free for the first time in a long time, unencumbered by your past.

“We should get ya a crossbow, like mine. Then ya wouldn’t have to hold the draw with that shoulder.”

“I like my old-fashioned recurve bow,” you said, pulling it over onto your lap and looking down at it fondly. “Especially because I can still beat you with it,” you smiled at him.

Daryl seemed suddenly fidgety and you picked up on it immediately. His eyes turned down and his expression was suddenly serious.

“What? What is it?”

He shrugged, still seemingly avoiding your eyes. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Always.”

He flicked his thumb along the sharp edge of his knife. “How—with everything that ya’ve been through, how come ya ain’t just angry? I’m angry just thinkin’ about it. And it didn’t even happen to me.”

“Mmm,” hummed thoughtfully. Your eyes turned out across the verdant pasture, toward the trees you’d spent the day under. “I am angry sometimes. But,” you shrugged, your right hand shielding over the scar on your left shoulder absently, “being angry doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix it. It all still happened.”

Your eyes grew a bit far-off, a bit distant. Daryl took several forced, deep inhales and gathered his courage before reaching over and taking your hand in his, pulling it away from your shoulder.

You looked over at him in surprise. Your hand felt small between his. Your gaze was questioning. Daryl’s heart was pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. He gulped, trying to clear his throat so he could talk. “‘M gonna make sure nothin’ else bad happens to ya. As best I can,” he murmured.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your eyes still a little wide from the unexpected action of him taking your hand in his. “Only if I can do the same thing for you.”

You saw him gulp nervously before he nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Yeh, I think—I think that’d be alright,” he said.

You gave him a half-smile that he found incredibly endearing and his nerves finally got the better of him and he released your hand, clearing his throat and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh, just gonna go grab some more firewood,” he drawled, standing up abruptly and internally cursing at himself as he left you sitting alone by the fire. Fuckin’ coward. Despite all his attempts at denial, Daryl had realized over the last couple weeks that he couldn’t ignore how he felt about you anymore, but now he was stranded in this place between where he was and where he wanted to be with no idea how to bridge the gap. He wandered back with an armload of firewood, internally frustrated and kicking himself, but his frustration vanished almost immediately when he had dumped it next to the fire circle and glanced at you again. You were looking at him with that open expression, this time with a little inquisitive lift in one of your eyebrows.

“Hmm?” he hummed, pulling his bottom lip back in between his teeth and worrying it anxiously.

You tilted your head toward the place he’d previously been sitting and he gulped as he sat down, still feeling your eyes steady on him. He thought that now you looked a little nervous. “Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

The archer nodded, nervous flutters flitting to life in his stomach.

“Umm… is it just me, or have you slept like shit, too, since I moved out of your tent?”

Once you were no longer staying in the house healing up, Daryl had moved your things out of his tent for you since there was no longer any need to worry about Shane. It wasn’t that you had asked him to, or that he’d even wanted to, it just seemed like he should…Afterwards, you’d actually moved your whole campsite closer to his, directly next to it, but you still found yourself tossing and turning on your cot, unable to fall asleep or stay asleep.

Daryl stared back at you for a moment in disbelief. He’d slept like garbage since you’d moved back, and he hadn’t even had the heart to fill the cleared space you’d once occupied with the stuff he previously had kept there. Now the emptiness loomed, drawing his eyes, the physical manifestation of how he felt something was just missing. When you slept on your cot across from him, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and look over at the shadow of your sleeping form. He always felt some swell of relief and maybe something else he couldn’t quite identify… Something about listening to your calm breathing always relaxed him and he found himself able to shut his eyes and drift off again. Maybe he’d gotten used to it. Maybe he shouldn’t have. But since you’d left, he’d been restless and anxious at night, wishing the material of his tent and yours would vanish so he could check on you.

Your nerves were growing with each moment of silence as you anxiously watched him, waiting for him to say something. “No, I—“ he had to clear his throat, nerves making his voice come out strangely strangled, “I’ve—” he let out a scoff of a laugh, almost incredulous he was about to say it to you, “I’ve slept like shit since ya left.”

“…really?”

He nodded, finally meeting your eyes again. “Mhm. Can’t fall asleep, can’t stay asleep, just feels like I lay there all the time w—”

You grabbed him by his lapel and pulled him toward you, pressing your lips softly to his, your eyes shut tightly, overwhelmed with nerves even while you melted into him. Your fingers cupped his face gently, like he was something fragile and Daryl was reeling.

By the time he reached back for you and got over his surprise you were already withdrawing and he blinked, bewildered, as he took in the wide-eyed expression on your face and your partially parted lips.

“Uhh—was that—okay?” you breathed, anxiety ratcheting up with each passing moment of uncertainty.

“Ya,” he drawled. It spilled from him like warm molasses. He watched as your face broke into a relieved smile and your cheeks burned pink.

“Good,” you murmured, unable to look at him any longer.

“Only I—I wasn’t ready,” he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his again. He gulped nervously and reached out to move a strand of hair out of your eyes before clasping your face. His blue eyes were flickering between yours and then down to your lips. You could tell he was nervous and it brought a small smile to your face. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned toward him, only having to wait a second before you felt his lips crashing against yours.

This time the kiss was heated and urgent and he pulled you into him gently with his hand at the nape of your neck. You happily leaned in, smiling against his lips, your hand pressing flush to his strong chest and the other landing lightly on his side, driving him crazy. Daryl’s hand smoothed over your shoulder and down your bare arm, electricity rising in its wake.

When you broke apart this time, you were both all stunned smiles again, though now you couldn’t look away from each other.

“So, uhh—ya wanna stay with me tonight? Sounds like we both need some real sleep, ya know, and I dunno…” Daryl wasn’t used to asking for what he wanted so blatantly, or making himself vulnerable, but somehow you brought it out of him and he was willing to jump off that ledge if it meant he got to kiss you and touch you and hold you all night… things he had thought about plenty when he was lying on his cot, unable to sleep, but never saw as a reality.

You nodded, that same smile you always gave him glowing on your face. He was constantly amazed by the light you exuded; despite everything you’d been through… everything you’d shared with him.

He needed that. He needed the light. He needed you. You gave him hope.

That night you settled in against him, nervous but melting into the safeness of his arms around you. Daryl worried he was too overwhelmed to sleep, but moment by moment he realized how natural having you against him felt, how safe, how perfect, and before either of you spoke another word you both drifted off in blissful silence.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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theredsuzuran · 3 years

Text

Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

#douma #douma kny #douma x reader #kny x reader #kny douma #demon slayer #fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #upper moon 2

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nocturnal-milk-dud · 3 years

Note

could i please request frankie morales and dawn of the dead?

For some reason this one took forever, but I hope you like it!

There's No More Room In Hell

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader

Warnings/notes: blood; gore; violence; biting; guns; language; death

Rating: R

Word count: 1631

Your arms are failing. That’s the thought circling over and over in your head. Sweat drips down your forehead, clinging to your eyelashes, and your back is screaming from being bent over your kitchen counter. Your knuckles are white, fingers cramping around the seat of a dining chair. It’s the only thing keeping the snapping, crazy-eyed booty call from ripping your face off. Blood oozes from his snarling lips and all the color is gone from his face. Jared. He had left to get coffee that morning and came back talking about how some crazy bitch had taken a chunk out of his hand before he’d even made it out of the building. You’d asked him if he needed any help as he disappeared into the bathroom. You were grateful when he said no--that he was going to get it wrapped up and head to the hospital--because you were sure your puking wouldn’t help. You hadn’t heard the bathroom door open. The water was still running and your back was to the hallway.

And now he’s trying to eat you. And not in a good way. And your arms feel like they’re about to snap. Something cracks and at first you think it must be one of your bones, or a chair leg. Warm blood splatters across your face and shirt and Jared almost looks surprised, eyes rolling up toward the hole in his forehead. He crumples to the floor and you wipe the blood away from your eyes with a shaky hand. Frankie is standing just inside the apartment, gun in hand and he lowers it slowly. You just stare stupidly.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks.

“No!” You rush into the bathroom, snatch a hand towel, and scrub the blood from your face. Frankie follows, tucking his gun in the waistband of his pants.

“We have to go,” he says, trying to be soft with you despite the urgency of the situation. “It’s not safe here.”

“Frankie, a guy just tried to eat me and you killed him and now I’m covered in blood. I’d appreciate one fucking moment,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. Frankie nods and walks away. You close the door and breathe.

When you come out you find him standing by your bedroom window, looking around the curtain. You join him and see for yourself. The world around you is pure chaos. Cars wrecked on the streets below. Buildings on fire. Blood everywhere. Everyone is either screaming or snarling, and from where you are it is impossible to tell who is human.

“Was it like this when you got here?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Frankie says, moving away from the window. You watch as he goes to your closet and pulls out a backpack you use for hiking trips. You follow him wordlessly as he moves around your apartment, grabbing things he thinks you’ll need. You watch and you follow because this man you walked away from crossed a city crawling with flesh-eating monsters to get you.

“Where will we go?” you ask. In a city like that you can’t imagine a safe place. Frankie zips the backpack closed and puts it on, tightening the straps.

“They’re telling people to go to Fort Pastor.”

“Is it safe there?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie admits, “but I know it’s not safe here.”

You dress and grab a couple more things Frankie missed. When the two of you are ready to go, Frankie opens the window that leads out onto your fire escape. He holds a gun out to you.

“You remember how?” he asks and you nod, taking it from him.

You focus on the fire escape--your feet on the metal stairs, your hands on the railing. If you look at anything else, think about anything else, you’ll stop moving. You don’t pay attention to the screams, the sirens. You don’t let your eyes wander to bloody handprints on apartment windows. You just follow Frankie down.

Your shoelace snags on a tread and you stumble down into Frankie, the two of you thundering onto the next landing. You faceplant into the backpack, hands clutching Frankie’s shoulders in a desperate attempt to remain upright.

“You okay?” he asks as he turns to you.

“Yeah,” you say, catching your breath. You crouch to fix your shoe and Frankie crosses to the other side of the landing, looking out on the street below.

“I have the truck,” he says, “it’s not far from here but--” There’s a crash, like a tray of glasses falling to the floor in a bar and an impact causes the fire escape to shudder. You look up and you see a woman covered in cuts, wearing only a bathrobe, snapping her teeth inches from Frankie’s neck. His body is sandwiched between hers and the metal railing and she’s lunging forward over and over. They’re both going over the edge if she doesn’t rip his throat out first. You draw your gun, but the risk of hitting Frankie is too high. You close the distance and hit her over the head as hard as you can with the gun. She looks at you very slowly and when she turns her head you see skin torn away from the right side of her face, her jawbone exposed.

“Fuck,” you breathe. She reaches for you and you fire one shot into her gut, almost without thinking, blinking at the sound of the shot. It doesn’t stop her, doesn’t even slow her down. You backpedal and trip over the grating, falling hard, your ankle twisting under you, and she’s following right after. There’s another shot and her head snaps back and the crazed look is gone, leaving nothing in its place. You scramble back, pulling your knees in close and her lifeless body lands right where you had been. Frankie adjusts his hat and tucks his gun back in the waistband of his pants.

“The head,” he says, holding his hand out for you. You nod and he helps you to your feet. You lean heavily on him, wincing at the sting in your ankle.

“Can you walk on it?” he asks.

“I think so,” you say.

When you hit the street, Frankie wraps an arm around your waist and you’re glad for it because you might have stayed there trying to reconcile the world in front of you with the one from the night before. Cars are turned over, traffic light poles are lying on the ground, and shards of glass are scattered underfoot. The window to the coffee shop you go to almost every morning before work is shattered. The door is twisted on its hinges, and a path of blood leads inside. People are running and someone collides with you. Out of habit, you turn to apologize but when you do, you see the person get tackled to the ground by a barefoot man in sweatpants, blood dripping from his chin onto his chest. Your stomach drops at the sound of the scream, cut short by the person choking on their own blood. Frankie is pulling you, he has been, and the two of you hurry down the alley alongside the apartment building, hugging the wall. Your face is pinched tight in pain, but you don’t stop.

“We’re almost there,” Frankie says, taking a left out of the alley and heading down a narrow street littered with similar scenes of destruction and carnage. You hear a man screaming for help. He’s in his car, the front end smashed in and his seatbelt stuck. A woman in a pencil skirt with one high-heeled shoe is stuck in the windshield, thrown from another car. She’s alive and moving--pushing, pulling, wriggling herself through, the broken glass tearing at her blouse. She gets into the man’s car and the glass is splashed with red.

The two of you can see the truck ahead and the sight of it fills you with a final desperate surge, and you push yourself forward. Your eyes are on the truck and you’re not ready when Frankie stops. You land heavily on your bad ankle and your cry is loud, fingers digging into Frankie’s arm.

“Shh,” he hisses and you look to see a crowd of feral people coming out from the maze of cars and clouds of thick smoke. Frankie leads you down a side street. The two of you need to run, but you can’t.

“Get in,” he says, lifting the lid of an empty dumpster. You do, clumsily, the sour stink filling your nostrils. Frankie looks back and you hear a shriek.

“Frankie?” you ask. You see him swallow, adjust his hat again, his eyebrows tight. He turns back to you and tosses the backpack in the dumpster. He hands you his keys.

“No,” you whisper.

“I have to lead them away,” Frankie says, his voice thick with regret, and you’re quick to argue.

“No you don’t.”

“Get to the truck,” he says, not listening. “Don’t wait for me.” You try to hold onto him, but he’s closing the lid. You hear Frankie whistle and shout at the monsters. You hear growls. You huddle back in the dumpster as the sounds get louder, holding your knees tight to your chest and praying that they’ll pass. And then there’s just the darkness, and the lingering stench of rot.

You wait. As long as you can, you wait, expecting, imagining Frankie opening the lid of the dumpster, a little worse for wear, but alive. You wait longer than you should and finally you grab the backpack and tumble out. You limp back up to the street and spot the truck, but there’s no sign of Frankie. No sign of anyone. You wonder if the city is completely dead as you climb in the truck.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #spooky season requests #frankie morales #triple frontier #dawn of the dead 2004 #dawn of the dead #pedro pascal

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glassartpeasants · 4 years

Text

Crying In The Club .8

Yandere!Overhaul x F!Reader

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8*

Warnings: Yandere overhaul, angst, non-consensual touching, blood & gore, torture, death, sassy reader, some sexual references

A/N: Yeah It gets kinda gruesome in this chapter so lol. But as a warning I will put a warning *GORE* before it truly begins. I was just in the mood for some good old gore.

Taglist

@hello-lucky-luka @winchester-wifey

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Another meeting, another hour of torture. You couldn’t believe it. After 6 months of being with your boyfriend, thinking all the horror was gonna end, you were dragged back into the devils lair. Not only was he actually a sociopath but this man fully believed that he could convince you to love him. As if.

How could you love someone who hurt you in horrific ways? He lowered your self esteem until it was practically nothing by the time he let you go. You had only gotten it back a little bit when (????) came into the picture. You couldn’t help but cry the night you were brought back here. How could you be happy knowing the one person you felt safe with was dead all because of some psychotic man who believed you were his.

A gloved hand on your thigh ripped you out of your thoughts. You tried not to tense up and show that the feeling was unwelcomed. Which it was. You felt his thumb rub up and down your thigh while he was talking to some random crime boss. You looked around the room uncomfortable as you were the only woman in the entire area. It felt as if all eyes were on you. They were undressing you with their eyes. You could tell by the way the two younger men that licked their lips were looking you up and down. It seems that you recognize many of these people from when you use to go to the meetings before you left.

It looked like many of the older men had learned their lesson since not one of them looked in your direction. But the younger men seemed to be new. You refused to show weakness and go crawling to Overhaul for some sort of safety. So you decided to do the next best thing. Show them that you weren’t gonna stand to be looked at like prey.

“Can you two men stop looking at me like Im a piece of meat? This is a professional meeting and you acting anything less then professional. Plus I’m taken.” You cross your arms while glaring at the two men with hatred. Everyone was silent as they all looked at you. Surprised you had said anything. You weren’t going to let some horny men look at you like that.

“You know Overhaul, you should teach her not to say anything. This is a professional meeting after all.”

“Pfft, professional meeting? Last time I was in a meeting like this, all you disgusting men couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. Shame your guys wives doesn’t know your checking out younger women.” You smirk. Idiots be wearing wedding bands on their fingers. Listen you were no mobster but its pretty common sense to not show any weakness. Especially something as crucial as a wife or husband.

No one said a word. You stood your ground, you showed you weren’t afraid of these people. But you weren’t gonna lie, You were bat shit terrified. All these men were so much bigger then you were.

‘Keep the confident front! Don’t show any fear!’

“How did you-”

“The wedding bands on your fingers.” All the men looked at their fingers realizing you had caught them. They then looked at you before they grumbled. Well everyone except the two younger men.

“Well sweets we don’t have any wedding bands. Hey Overhaul, you willing to sell that pretty thing over there?” Your eyes widen. Did these men really think you were just some toy to be pawned off? You did not miss this at all. In fact you fuckin hated this.

Before you could growl at them Kai had sen’t them a glare. He grabbed your hip and brought you in between his legs. His right arm snaking around your waist.

“No she’s not for sale. Let’s continue this meeting before I lose my temper.” Well this did not go the way you thought it would hot damn.

~~~

You sit on the couch near the back door. Watching as the older men leave with their tails in between their legs. Even if you would never admit it, Kai is much younger then most of these men. So if they were to fight him, they wouldn’t have a good chance in fighting. But the younger men, you don’t know for sure. Speaking of them you didnt see them leave the compound.

“Miss (Y/N), Overhaul had requested your presence in the basement.” Your breathing hitched as a feeling of dread washed your entire body. What did you do? You had only been back for 3 days! You couldn’t have done-

Oh yeah.

‘How could I completely forget about how I just dissed those men. Oh im so mega fucked.’ You breath lowly in fear of what would happen to you. Damnit you should have just been quiet and took it. Now you were gonna feel his wraith. Why did you do that?

You follow the man towards the basement where you heard Kai’s voice talking to someone. Was it Hari? No couldn’t be. Hari’s voice held a bit more of a sweeter tone. At least to you. This voice was similar but you couldn’t put a finger on where you heard it before. Think, think, think damnit-

The to men from the meeting.

Your eyes grow wide as you walked down the stairs and heard the door close behind you. The creaking of the wooden stairs seem to ring in your ears as your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Your legs jelly as you fear what you might see. What could Kai be doing to those men? Even if they were a little creepy they had probably learned their lesson when Kai had screamed at them when you were leaving the room after the meeting.

Once your feet met the concrete floor of the basement your eyes wide at the sight before you.

****GORE****

Right in front of you was the 2 men, tied in chairs, face bloody. You could have sworn some of their teeth were missing.

“Aw my lovely angel. Look, now they can never say anything to you. They don’t deserve to see your beauty. I’m proud of you for showing me which disgusting creatures were looking at you.” Kai said as he up behind you. He settled his chin on the top of your head. You see his beak coming off from the top of your head. His hands rubbing your shoulders gently, moving his thumbs in circular patterns.

“You stupid bitch! Were in here because of you-”

“(R/N) cut of their tongues. No one speaks to my angel in such a way.” You gasped as you backed up. Trying to escape the scene that was about to unfold. But you couldn’t Kai had grasped your chin and made you watch as a subordinate of his grabbed the tongue of one of the men before a sickening rip followed as the other man screamed. Blood gushed out of his mouth as the man coughed. Struggling not to choke on his own blood.

The other man suffered the same fate followed by the familiar rip. Tears were rushing down your eyes as you felt bile rise up in the back of your throat. Kai looked down at you and saw the tears and gushed out of your eyes.

“Aw angel why are you crying? Is it because you know they’ll never say such vile things to you again? Your welcome for protecting you.” Kai softly spoke as he nudged his head in between your shoulders. You felt like you were watching a horror film but in 3D.

The mens blood covered the tops of their shirts as they cough it all up. The men looked on the verge of passing out. One of them looked at you with a glare causing you to lift up your arms to cover your eyes. Your lip quivering in fear as you hear a pop and the gurgling screams of the men in front of you.

3 more pop sounds came and you were flinching every time one pop had came. You move your fingers to the side and see the men with their eyes gauged out of their sockets.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You vomited all over the ground as the men screamed even louder. You couldn’t see it. You didn’t want to see it. You were about to run out of the room before you slipped on your on vomit and hit your head against the concrete floor.

~~~

You open your eyes only to be greeted by a blinding white light. You move your arm to cover it so your eyes don’t sting. You flutter your eyes a bit before looking around your room. A pure white room that looked like a hospital room. You groaned. Was it all just a bad dream? I mean you did go to the hospital the day before you got kidnapped again.

You smile a bit, thinking it was all but just a dream. You could go back to your loving boyfriend, you could eat with him and just enjoy his presence. You missed him dearly. The thought of him got your heart pumping harder and harder. You couldn’t wait to see his cheeky smile and that cute little mole on his chin.

Just as you were about to get up from the bed and go home, your thoughts were snapped when you heard the familiar voice of your captor. That meant that this wasn’t a dream. No, this was a living nightmare. You hadn’t dreamed this, it was real. Your boyfriend was dead and you were still in the clutched of the devil himself.

You let out a little whimper when you moved your head a bit. You gently touch the side of your head wincing at the pain. The sudden thoughts of what happened earlier scratched into your head. You shiver at the thought of what else could’ve happened while you were out.

“Ah my darling angel, your finally awake. Is your head okay? Nasty gash you had. Since you fell in your own vomit I had to give you a bath. I never thought you would be even more beautiful then you already were.” Your eyes widen. He had changed you?! That means he saw everything! EVERYTHING!

Your cheeks grew red in embarrassment as you try and turn your head away. Only for Kai’s gloved hand to bring your face back to his.

“Aw my angel, don’t be embarrassed now. It’s not like I will never see you like that again. Trust me my love, one day you’ll be crying my name.”

#overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #mha #bnha #overhaul #overhaul angst #chisaki overhaul #mha overhaul #kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #mha angst #bnha angst

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lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

Matthews

Spencer Reid x reader

summary: doesn’t ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes.

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 12; uhhh here’s the storm

The sound of Y/N’s phone vibrating under her hand woke her up. She lifted her head off of Amelia’s bed, not bothering to look at the caller I.D. and answered.

“Hello?” Y/N’s voice croaked, still full of sleep.

“Ms. Matthews,” a distorted voice spoke through the phone.

Y/N sat up completely straight in her chair, now high alert.

“Or should I say SSA Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Who is this?” Y/N asked, standing up from the chair and moving outside of the room. She knew exactly who it was but she needed to be sure.

“You know exactly who this is,” the voice responded.

“Landry Stephenson,” Y/N said with a stern tone. “What do you want?”

“Midnight,” Landry replied.

“What about it?”

“That’s what you have till before this beautiful gold ring becomes mine, along with your boyfriend.”

The line went dead after that. A small tear of fear pricked in Y/N’s eyes, the phone not coming off her ear as she stood there in shock for a second. She pulled the phone off her ear after taking her second, calling the only person she could think of.

“I got here as quickly as I could,” Hotch said, rushing up the stairs to his office where Y/N stood.

She couldn’t trust Strauss anymore, she needed to go straight to the people she knew would help.

Her team.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked once he came face to face with Y/N.

“I need to tell you where I’ve been,” she said with a shaky voice.

It felt as though she was injured, running off of pure adrenaline. And now it was starting to wear off because her voice began to shake. Hotch closed the door to his office and gestured for her to sit down.

“Strauss sent me undercover at George Town because they’ve been receiving letters about someone in the BAU being stalked. There has also been a recent string of ‘suicides’ that we thought were connected to the case, now I can confirm it is because one of the girls I’ve become close to was a victim last night…”

“Y/N I’m so sorry,” Hotch said sympathetically.

“It’s alright, she’s recovering in the hospital, she made it to my office to get help somehow.”

She took in a shaky breath and looked at the watch on her wrist.

“Okay, I’m going to skip some parts because we need to get the team here as soon as possible. Basically, this girl named Landry Stephenson has been sending letters to us about Spencer and I found out it was her yesterday when I went to Amelia’s dorm to look around and I found hundreds of pictures of Spencer in a small chest. This morning I got a phone call from Landry saying we have until midnight tonight to save Spencer.”

“How do you know it was Landry for sure?”

“Because she addressed me as Ms. Matthews, that was my undercover name.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath and lifted her hand and watched it shake violently. She was starting to have an anxiety attack, she hadn’t had that since the day of the bomb.

“Y/N,” Hotch said, making her tearful eyes look at him. “I need you to breathe okay, breath.”

She took in some deep breaths and let a few tears fall down her face. Her eyes closed and she took a minute to compose herself, letting all her emotions flood out of her so she could focus on saving Spencer.

“Okay, let’s get the team here.”

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

“Y/N,” everyone said as they walked into the bullpen, seeing the woman they all missed.

JJ and Penelope ran up and wrapped their arms around her, squeezing her tightly.

“Hey, guys-” she pulled away from the hug and gave others to the rest of the team- “I wish we had time to catch up but we have a problem.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Rossi asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Wait, shouldn’t we wait for Reid?” Penelope asked, noticing the Boy Wonder’s absence.

“That’s why we’re here. This morning Y/N received a phone call from Landry Stephenson, the unsub Strauss sent her to find who had been killing students at George Town and stalking a member of the BAU, that member was Reid,” Hotch relayed the information Y/N had told him to the team.

The team had slack jaws at the news.

“So, is he okay? Is he in protective custody?” JJ asked, her words quick and strong.

“When I got the call, Landry told me we had until midnight to find him,” Y/N said, her voice shaking again.

“Oh god…” Penelope muttered, clutching her hand to her chest.

“What other information do you have?” Derek asked assertively.

“Not much,” Y/N let her head drop in shame.

The team stayed quiet for a second, watching as Y/N sniffled as a way to keep in her tears. “I have a wealth of knowledge to be applying to this case right now about behaviors of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies-” she choked on a sob at her next words- “victim survival odds, things I know about the unsub. But I can’t keep a straight thought for more than four seconds at a time, so I’m the dumbest person in the room.”

The team watched in sympathy as Y/N cried during her speech. They knew he was the love of her life and she was his. They were Spencer and Y/N. “The greatest love I’d ever seen,” as Rossi put it. So they knew, this was tearing her apart because she was putting all the blame on herself.

“Please-” her voice cracked- “we need to find him.”

“This technically isn’t our case, but Spencer is a part of this team,” Hotch said as everyone stayed quiet. “This is going rogue not only for Y/N but for all of us, we could lose our jobs. Does anybody want to leave?”

No one answered.

“Good, then let’s get started.”

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

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while deeply loving someone gives you courage,” Y/N mumbled under her breath as she paced back and forth in Penelope’s office. She kept repeating the phrase under her breath like a mantra. It’s a quote by Luo Tzu that she found during her time away. It’s what kept her going from being away from Spencer and only being able to talk to him every so often.

“Hey,” Derek whispered, walking into the office that was only occupied but Y/N.

Y/N ignored him and kept repeating the quote under her breath.

“Y/N.” Derek stepped in front of her and grabbed her shoulders. “We’re going to find him.”

“Yeah,” she nodded and wrangled her hands together. “It’s just this is all my fault. If I had pushed harder, maybe Strauss would have gotten him sooner or even put Landry in custody and then we wouldn’t be here right now and I could be back on the team and everything would be great and be normal. Spencer and I would be together and would be happy and hopefully engaged-”

Y/N’s blubber of ‘what if’s’ was cut off by Derek.

“Hey, hey.” He grabbed her shoulder and gave her a slight shake. “Wonder Woman we are going to find him and stop this.”

She nodded and fell into his chest, just needing a hug now. He wrapped his arms around her shoulder and held her for about a minute.

“Let’s go to the round table room, we got all the letters that were sent from Strauss,” Derek said, beginning to lead her to the door.

“How did she take the fact I didn’t come to her first?” Y/N asked while wiping the last of her tears.

“Not well at first, but I think she understood eventually.”

When they reached the round table room, the team was sitting all around it, copies of the letters that were sent scattered between them.

“This is clearly a classically possessive stalker,” Derek said as he finished one of the letters he was reading.

“Yeah, one who craves validation and recognition,” Blake added.

“Yeah, she’s asking here ‘why won’t you see me?’, ‘do you think you’re better than me?’, within the five letters this comes up again and again,” JJ said as she flipped through her copies of the letters.

“Five?” Y/N asked from her seat across the table.

She had been silent for most of the time in the room. Her knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting on top of them.

“Yeah, there’s five,” JJ responded showing Y/N the letters.

“No, no, that can’t be right, when Strauss sent me out there was only four,” Y/N let her feet hit the ground as she reached for her copies of the letters.

Sure enough, another latter had been sent since she was undercover. It came in yesterday.

“This got here yesterday,” Y/N pointed out.

“How do you know?” Rossi asked, flipping to the same letter she had in her hand.

“Because this is talking about the attack on Amelia,” Y/N said as she kept reading the letter swiftly.

“Who’s Amelia?” Blake asked quietly, not wanting to make Y/N jump at anyone in her frantic state.

“She’s a girl I’ve been counseling undercover, we’ve gotten really close, yesterday she was attacked.” Y/N kept reading through the graphic description of the attack, trying to not let it get to her as she looked for ideas where Spencer could be.

“Here, here, she talks about how she did this for him,” Y/N blurted when she finished reading over a line in the letter, pointing to the spot. “She was killing these people so that the team would come and investigate.”

“Well, we have her motive for the killing, also probably for the suicide she’s also talking about,” Blake said as she pointed out another thing in the letter. “Here it says, ‘when I find you I’m going to kill you than myself’.”

“Murder suicides the ultimate ‘I love you’ to these guys,” Rossi remarked.

“Do you know when Landry started targeting Spencer?” Hotch asked, turning to look at Y/N.

“No, no, I just know she was in one of Blake’s linguistics classes, probably saw him guest speak, and…” she trailed off from there, not wanting to say the rest, knowing that the team knew it.

“Oh my god guys, I found Spencer,” Penelope blurted when a ping went off on her computer. “Well, not found, but I have video surveillance of him in Union Station last night, being drugged and carted away by the unsub.”

The team quickly crowded around Penelope’s laptop and watched the video. Y/N stayed rooted to the ground she stood on, not being able to watch the video.

“Alright, Morgan you and JJ go to the station where Reid was taken, see if anything was left as a clue, Blake and Dave, go to Spencer and Y/N’s apartment, see if there’s anything there,” Hotch ordered and the team began to stand up straight and grab their coats.

Hotch then turned to Y/N, still rooted in the ground and not moving. “How clear is your head?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, not really clear,” she stuttered, eyes staring at Spencer’s empty seat at the round table.

“I want to talk to Amelia about Landry but I need you there.”

Y/N nodded her head but didn’t move just yet.

“Y/N,” Penelope said, stopping her as she began to turn.

“He wears the ring you know, never takes it off.”

“I know.”

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

“Amelia?” Y/N asked softly as she entered the hospital room.

Amelia looked up from the book in her hand to see Y/N approach with Hotch behind her. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Amelia, this is Agent Hotchner, he works with me at the FBI, um he needs to ask you some questions.”

“Hi, Amelia,” Hotch said, walking closer to the side of the bed.

Y/N took a step back to watch.

“Hi,” Amelia responded.

“So Landry Stephenson is your roommate correct?” Hotch asked, starting off his questions.

“Yes.”

“Does she have any place she would go beside your dorm?”

“She talked about her boyfriend’s place a couple of times,” Amelia answered after a pause for her to think.

“What’s his name?”

“Uh, I think she said it was Edmond,” Amelia shrugged. “She rarely talked about him, when she did, it was almost like she was imagining it.”

Y/N then had a flashback to when she walked into her’s and Spencer’s apartment one time. She remembered looking over to see a boy walking into his apartment a little down the hall, Landry by his side.

“Hotch,” Y/N stepped up getting his attention.

He turned his head to look at her.

“I know where the boyfriend lives.”

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

“This bitch,” Y/N deadpanned as she walked up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building where her and Spencer’s apartment lived. She walked swiftly up the stairs and down the hallway, bypassing her apartment that Rossi and Blake had just been in.

“Y/N, slow down,” Hotch said, catching up to her.

“She was right down the hallway from us, Hotch, how the hell do you expect me to slow down,” she seethed as they came to the apartment of Edmond Rayes.

“Let us handle it,” Hotch put his hand up, stopping her from knocking on the door.

She nodded, still furious that she was this close to them this whole time.

“Edmond Rayes,” Derek said, pounding on the door. “FBI.”

Rossi pulled his badge out of his pocket and held it to the peephole. A second later, the door opened and revealed Edmond Rayes, with a stitched up forehead.

“FBI?” Edmond asked the common thing most people say when the FBI knocks on their door.

“What happened to your head?” Rossi nodded to the large gash.

“My ex pushed me into a mirror,” he answered, moving his body open to let the four of them in.

“That ex wouldn’t happen to be Landry Stephenson would it?” Y/N asked, speaking up for the first time.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Edmond asked, clearly not recognizing Y/N’s voice from the few times she talked to him. He turned his head to look at her and then he recognized her, “Oh, hey Y/N.”

“Hi, Edmond.”

“Do you know where Landry Stephenson is?” Rossi asked, getting straight to the point.

“No, should I?”

“Well, that’s what we were hoping,” Rossi shrugged.

“When did you guys break up?” Derek asked the next question.

“Uh, about three weeks ago,” Edmond answered, pausing to think of the exact timeline.

“And when did you get that cut?” Hotch asked.

“Two nights ago, Landry came back ranting about something she left here.”

Y/N began to wander the apartment, looking all around at the different pictures and figurines adorning the shelves. She wasn’t listening to the interview going on anymore, it just became background noise as she looked at the walls.

But then her ears tuned back when she saw an orange envelope slipped between two books. To the untrained eye, no one would have caught it.

“Edmond,” Y/N said, bringing everyone’s attention to her. “What’s this?”

Edmond cocked his head to the side as he looked at the envelope with Y/N. “I’m not sure.”

He pulled the envelope out from between the books and opened it. He pulled out about twenty photos of Spencer and Y/N walking in and out of his apartment. “I think I found what Landry was looking for.”

Y/N took the photos from his hands, flipping through them to see them all. They went back a couple of months.

“Y/N,” Hotch said nodding to the door of the apartment. Rossi took the photos from her hands as she walked past and followed Hotch out of the apartment.

“This means you’re a part of her victimology now, you know,” Hotch said calmly to her.

“Are you pulling me off the case then?”

“No.”

“Then let me go back in there to work,” she said, trying to push past him into the apartment. Hotch stuck his arm out and held her back.

“We will but you need a second,” He told her.

“Hotch, I was practically stalked by Caroline for my whole college life, this isn’t new to me,” she reassured him and walked back into the apartment.

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

“Okay we know numbers on female stalkers are minimal, only ten percent are female,” JJ said as the team sat around the round table again to regroup. Y/N took a seat on the couch behind the table, feeling like she needed to step back to see everything.

“All right, what tops the list of motivators?” Hotch asked.

“Prior sexual intimacy,” Derek debated.

Y/N barked out a laugh accidentally at the thought. Everyone turned to her with confused glances. “Sorry.”

“Erotomania?” Rossi asked, moving past the moment.

“Maybe,” Derek said. “You slept with me, I’ve built a whole life with us-”

“No,” Y/N butted in.

“Y/N,” JJ whispered.

“JJ I know Spencer, we all do, he would not cheat on me, or-or do anything like that.” They all looked at Y/N sympathetically, knowing she was right but they were just saying all the facts. “What’s-what’s the next one?”

“Celebrity stalking,” JJ answered.

“That one makes more sense,” Y/N said nodding her head.

“How? Spencer’s not famous,” Blake said shaking her head.

“But she was in your class Blake, and when he came to lecture, she became a celebrity to him,” Y/N said.

“That’s a stretch,” Rossi argued. “Celebrity stalkers are usually nonviolent.”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon, Rossi?” Y/N said standing up from her sitting position as she got angrier. “What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him? ‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided.’ Well, Spencer is somebody and-and this bitch is a nobody!”

Her sudden outburst made the room get quiet as she paced back and forth. They waited for a second for her to cool down.

“I’m-I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” she apologized as she continued her pacing. “My head’s too clouded, I need to leave, I’m not much help.”

“Y/N, yes, you can be of help,” Derek said, trying to make her calm down. “You have the most communication with the unsub and Spencer.”

“She probably revealed details to you of where she would keep Spencer since she knew who you were,” JJ said in a calming voice.

“I don’t have a memory like Spencer! I can’t remember every damn word she said to me, how-”

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through each moment with you to help you find out,” Hotch cut her off.

Y/N stopped pacing, looking at everyone around the table. Truly, she would pick Penelope but that wasn’t a part of her job so she settled on someone else.

“Hotch, please,” she said quietly.

“Okay, let’s go,” He said standing up and leading her out of the room.

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

“This is where you want to talk?” Hotch asked as the two reached the park that had many chess boards in it.

“It’s where Spencer and I went on our first date, he tried to teach me chess. I need a spot that reminds me of him,” Y/N said as she took a seat at a table. She really sucked at chess, but she knew how to play because of Spencer, but she never beat him.

“Okay.” Hotch took a seat across from her. He then moved a pawn to begin the game. “Try to focus on the board and not my questions, just say whatever comes to your mind.”

“Okay.” Y/N moved one of her pawns.

“When you first think of Spencer what’s the first thing you think of?”

“Home,” Y/N laughed as she moved her chess piece. “He-he makes me feel like home. Warm, cozy, and safe.”

Hotch stayed quiet as he smiled at Y/N. Of course, he knew about their relationship, the whale team did, but they were very private about it. They stayed professional most of the time and no one would assume they were dating if they saw them on the job. This was the first time he really heard about how she really felt about him.

“So if this is a case of celebrity stalking, why do you think she didn’t go after you to get to Spencer?” Hotch asked as he made his next move.

“I’m not sure, to be honest, I wish she did take me instead of him,” Y/N moved her rook. “Maybe she was devolving and her desire to get to him first was too strong so she just...went for him.”

“Maybe,” Hotch moved his knight. “But why would she choose Spencer, in her mind, they must connect somehow.”

“But how?”

“Maybe Spencer said something in a lecture that had her make a connection?” Hotch moved another pawn.

“Could be…” Y/N moved her other knight.

“When you spoke to Landry, did she mention any of her classes?”

“No, she didn’t really talk much, she would answer yes or no to my questions…”

“Landry, do you have anyone special going on in your life right now?”

“Well, I sent in an article to someone I admire again, and I’m hoping they get back to and like this one more than my last.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N muttered as she remembered the conversation.

“What?” Hotch asked.

“Months ago, Spencer was helping some students with thesis and articles they wanted to be published. He then asked for input on a ‘Journal of Behavioral Psych’ article. This one student sent in a theory that was completely improbable and stupid, but I couldn’t even tell you what it was. But that same student kept sending in more stuff like it, and Spencer kept politely rejecting it,” Y/N rambled.

“It was Landry that sent in those articles,” Hotch realized. “She wants to be accepted by him.”

“She told me once a couple of weeks ago that she sent in another and was hoping it would get accepted,” Y/N looked up at Hotch with teary eyes. “I didn’t make the connection until now.”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N, okay, come on let’s get back to the office.”

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

“Landry Stephenson, along with being a major in Linguistics at George Town, she was working on getting her psychology degree online,” Penelope said as she pulled up a photo of Landry on the screen.

“Do you have the articles she sent to Spencer?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, and like Y/N said, they’re waka-doodle,” Penelope answered.

“Looks like when Spencer rejected her last article, she dropped out of her online classes,” Rossi said as he looked at the papers Penelope handed them.

“Correct,” Penelope said, taking a seat at the table. “I also found an off campus apartment that looks like she stays at on the weekends.”

“Dave, you, Y/N, and JJ take the apartment. Blake and Morgan, take the campus dorm,” Hotch ordered.

“What was the last article about?” Y/N asked quickly before they could leave.

“It says here, ‘How the behaviors of cells change when suicide is inevitable’,” Derek read from the file.

“There’s her suicidal ideation again,” Blake remarked.

“Except that’s not true, why is she so obsessed with it?” Y/N asked. She now understood why Spencer was rejecting her articles, if they were all like this, they were related to her emotionally.

S.W.A.T. busted through the door of the apartment, breaking it off its hinges. They walked in quickly, making sure all the rooms were clear before they could relax and begin their search.

Y/N, JJ, and Rossi began to look around the apartment. Their eyes landed on a wall covered in family pictures and a newspaper clipping about a double suicide. Of her two parents.

“Is this a shrine to her dead parents?” JJ asked as she looked at the wall.

“Her parents committed suicide,” Y/N muttered and pointed to the clipping. “That wasn’t in her file.”

“Uh, guys,” Rossi called from a back room he wandered to. “You might want to come to look at this.”

JJ and Y/N walked to the room quickly. When they entered Rossi had pulled open a small closet door, revealing a bunch more pictures of Spencer.

“Oh dear god,” Y/N muttered as she looked at all the pictures. If Spencer wasn’t kidnapped by this girl right now, she would probably find this humorous.

“She’s watching us,” Rossi nodded to a camera in the corner of the room.

JJ and Y/N turned to the camera behind them to see a green blinking light flashing. JJ quickly pulled out her phone and called Penelope.

“Garcia,” JJ said when she heard her answer.

“What you got, Mama Grizzly?”

“There’s a webcam in here can you hack the feed?” JJ asked.

“Ohh,” Penelope groaned as she tried to hack the feed. “She’s spoofing the IP address and she’s encrypted the feed.”

Y/N searched around the room, finding a piece of paper and marker. She quickly wrote ‘me for him’ on the page and held it up to the camera.

“What are you doing?” Rossi asked as he watched Y/N write.

“Making a deal,” Y/N responded, finishing the message. The two agents watched as Y/N held the paper up to the camera.

Y/N prayed that this would get her in to find out where Spencer was because they were running out of time now.

After about thirty seconds of Y/N holding up the message, the apartment phone began to ring. Y/N set down the paper and rushed to the phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Spencer’s voice said back through the phone.

Y/N let out a breath of relief that he was still alive. “Spence, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Spencer stuttered. “I’ve got a concussion and some bruising, but I’m okay.”

“Can I speak to Landry?”

She heard Spencer take in a sharp breath. “No, she’s listening.”

“Good, I need to meet her, I need to talk to her,” Y/N said, hoping she was playing her cards right now.

“She has a message she wants me to give to you,” Spencer spoke softly, clearly uneasy as his words were slightly slurred.

“What is it, bub,” she hoped using his nickname would give him some strength.

“The message is, she left you a present and if you want to find it, it’s easy as pie,” Spencer’s voice was slurred, almost like he was falling asleep.

“What does that mean? I don’t get that,” Y/N said, rubbing her forehead as she tried to think.

“Neither do I,” Spencer mumbled. “Y/N don’t come, it’s a trap! She’s gonna kill you-”

The line went dead.

Y/N thought for a moment, then she had a thought. “I need a map of D.C.”

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

When Y/N, Rossi, and JJ arrived back at the BAU, Y/N had plenty of time to think about the riddle and decipher most of it.

A map was set up on a board when they walked in. She quickly picked up a blue marker.

“We don’t have a lot of time so I’m going to make this as quick as possible.” Y/N took the cap off the marker then began marking things. “This is Landry’s off-campus apartment- this is the nearest tower her phone call to me pinged off of, which means this-” she used a compass to draw a circle around the spots- “is the circle that Spencer was telling me about.”

“What circle?” Hotch asked.

“It was a clue in Landry’s message, finding her would be as easy as pie, but she wasn’t talking about the food, she was talking about the number Pi.” Y/N wrote the first three digits on the board.

“Pi,” Penelope said and turned back to her laptop to start some calculations.

“Why would she give you a clue?” Hotch asked.

“Spencer has a doctorate in mathematics, so of course she would use math to lure us in because she wants Spencer to think she’s just as smart as me and him,” Y/N relayed the conclusion she had come up with on the car ride back.

“All right, assuming that Landry has a secondary location, wherein the circle would she hold Reid?” Hotch nodded to the circle she drew on the map.

“She’d need a building that would allow for privacy and control, a closed garage for prisoner transfer…”

“If she’s trying to insert herself into Spencer’s life, maybe she has it close your apartment,” Hotch suggested.

“There’s nothing in Landry’s name,” Penelope said after searching with the suggestion.

“Try Y/N’s or Spencer’s,” Hotch said, turning around to look at Penelope.

“Nope.”

“What about Landry’s parents?” Y/N squatted down next to Penelope as she typed.

“Yes, yes,” Penelope said excitedly as she got a hit. “Landry rented a loft across from your’s and Spencer’s apartment building in her parent’s name.”

“Y/N,” Hotch said, bringing her attention over to him. “I can’t let you be a part of this takedown.”

“We don’t have a choice if I don’t go in there. Spence's dead,” Y/N said, her hands moving aggressively as she spoke.

“And if you do you’re dead,” Hotch told her.

Y/N shook her head. “Hotch, we’ve known from the beginning she’s on a murder-suicide mission, but we didn’t stop to ask why she’s on that mission. We know now, it’s because she wants recognition, the type she believes Spencer can give her and if I go in there I can let her believe she is getting that.”

“How?”

“Because I’m going to break up with Spencer to do so.”

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

The team pulled up to the building with the sirens blaring. S.W.A.T. had already arrived at the scene, ready for instruction from the team.

The team each hopped out of there respected vehicles, guns drawn and ready to save Spencer.

“Hang on, I got a box on the steps,” Hotch stopped everyone, carefully approaching the box.

“That’s the gift,” Y/N said, holstering her gun and walking up to the box.

She picked it up, looking at Hotch to be sure it was alright who nodded. She pulled back the blue lid to reveal a small black velvet box. She pulled it out and opened it, seeing a beautiful ring inside of it.

“Is that a ring?” Derek asked as he inspected it from a distance.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Landry’s voice said through an intercom by the door.

Quickly, Y/N began to strip the vest off her torso and handed her gun and the ring to Hotch.

“Now come in Alone.”

“Y/N,” Hotch tested, but Y/N didn’t look back at him.

She opened the door carefully and slowly walked up the small set of stairs to a platform. When she reached the top, Landry rounded the corner and cocked her gun.

She walked over to Y/N slowly and grabbed her shoulder, placing the gun to her side. “Walk.”

Landry pushed her down into a chair roughly. Y/N shifted uncomfortably and took a breath, trying to keep a cool front.

When she looked in front of her, she saw Spencer strapped to a chair. “Hi, Spence.”

“Hi,” he whispered back.

“I was hoping you’d figure out my riddle,” Landry said as she moved behind Spencer, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, I knew you would-” she snaked her hand under his shirt- “The fun was just how fast you did it.”

Y/N watched as Spencer stiffened uncomfortably under her touch.

“It took me a while, if I’m honest, I was kinda distracted by your article you sent in,” Y/N said, hoping she was right about her plan.

Landry pulled her hand off of Spencer and looked at Y/N. “You read my article?”

“I did, the one on the behavior of cells during suicide? I couldn’t agree more,” Y/N lied hoping Spencer, even in his out of mind state, would be able to play along.

“Flattery is not going to get you out of this, because I know what’s waiting for me outside,” Landry said, pointing to the window with her gun.

“I’ve arranged for your freedom,” Y/N bargained, again with a lie.

“The feds don’t make deals with people like me,” Landry stated matter-of-factly.

“Not true, if you have something to help them; Nazi scientists helped with the manhattan project, Mafia bosses are put in witsec, if what you have is valuable enough, they’ll take you,” Y/N corrected her. “That’s why Spencer didn’t want to accept your article because he knew you were right and he was upset he didn’t come up with it first.”

Spencer’s eyes lit in that realization moment that Y/N recognized. He was catching on to the game.

“It’s true after I read it, I was upset I couldn’t figure that out sooner, so I rejected it out of jealousy,” Spencer added, hoping that hearing him say it would allow her to believe it. “And what you have, is valuable.”

“And what do I have?” Landry asked, using her gun to make Spencer’s face look at her.

Please Spence, please say the right thing, Y/N plead internally.

“A brain that doesn’t work with normal societal rules.”

Right on the money, good doctor.

“I’m here because Spencer deserves someone like you, someone with a brain that’s as big and smart as his,” Y/N said, making her move to get Landry to hopefully let her guard down.

When Landry had no response, she spoke again. “Spencer, I’m sorry I don’t love you, I’m breaking up with you.”

Even though it was a lie, it hurt Y/N to say those words. It physically pained her.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I understand, because I chose Landry,” Spencer played into the lie.

Landry whipped her head around to Spencer. “You’re choosing me over her?”

“Yeah,” Spencer whispered.

“I don’t need her anymore,” Landry said, bringing her gun to Y/N’s head.

“Kill her and she won’t have to live with the fact that I chose you over her,” Spencer said, stopping Landry before she could shoot. “Let her live with her irrelevancy.”

“Fine,” Landry said, getting ready to push her out of the chair and out of the room. “But I just want her to see one more thing.”

Landry walked over, undid the zip ties, and connected her lips with Spencer’s. As best as he could he tried to play into it, but it felt too wrong and he barely even moved his lips.

Y/N just hoped Spencer could play it off long enough to where they could get her outside and arrest her.

“Liar,” Landry said, pulling herself away from Spencer. “Liar!” She pointed the gun at Spencer’s chest but quickly Y/N stood up and reached around her to pull the gun up as Landry fired a shot, missing Spencer completely. Y/N had got the gun out of her hand and it was thrown on the ground.

Landry quickly grabbed a knife off of a table next to her and held it to Y/N’s throat as the rest of the team entered when they heard the shot go off.

“Stay back! Stay back!” Spencer yelled as the team entered the room.

Y/N breathed in deeply as Landry held the knife to her throat. “Landry, Landry, remember what I said, I broke up with him, he’s choosing you, it’s going to take a second for him to be completely ready to kiss you or-or be with you.”

“Landry-” Spencer tried to plead.

“You didn’t want me!” Landry screeched, the knife coming off of Y/N’s neck slightly.

“I didn’t,” Spencer told her honestly. “But we can still arrange for your freedom.”

“No, you love her and I’ll never be her.”

Y/N quickly reached up and wrestled with Landry for the knife. Somewhere along the line, the knife ended up and Y/N’s abdomen.

Y/N sucked in a breath of pain as Landry pulled the knife out.

A shot sounded off from JJ’s gun and hit Landry in the chest as she turned around.

“Y/N!” Spencer’s voice echoed in the room as he ran up to her body falling on the ground.

“We need a medic!” Hotch’s voice boomed.

He caught her and helped bring her down to the ground, hand pressing on the wound on her stomach.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she whispered, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek.

A tear rolled out of his eye, and that was just the beginning of them.

“Hey, bub, I heard you wore my ring,” she said, trying to bring him away from the fact she was just stabbed.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he choked. He grabbed the hand that was holding his cheek, kissing the back of it, and showing her the ring still on his finger.

“I-I think you got me a ring too,” she whispered as she remembered the ring Landry left for her at the front door that she gave to Hotch.

“I did,” he whispered back, holding her hand clasped against his face.

She smiled softly, beginning to feel her eyes get heavy.

“Hey, hey, sweets, keep those eyes open, the paramedics are almost here,” Spencer begged as he watched her eyes get heavy. “I love you.”

The paramedics pried Y/N out of Spencer’s arms and brought her onto a board, but Spencer kept trying to grab for her.

His sobs racked his body violently as JJ and Derek held him back from running to her unconscious body. JJ shushed his sobs and cries for Y/N as she was taken out of the room and into the hospital.

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

“Spencer,” JJ’s voice echoed in Spencer’s head. “Spence.” She shook his shoulder.

Spencer stayed still, not having moved from his position on the ER bed all night as he stared at the same linoleum tile. Y/N had been in surgery for hours and his physical exam to see his injuries had been long done. He came out with a minor concussion and a few bruises like he thought, but his heart was in need of fixing.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe without knowing if Y/N was okay. If she was alive.

JJ kept saying his name but gave up after her fifth try and had no answer. She settled with placing the ring that Y/N gave to Hotch beside him on the bed.

He glanced down at the ring in its box, then back up at JJ. His eyes watered and then he let the tears fall as he picked up the box.

He needed someone right now to give him a sense of hope, to give him something to hold on to. Because if he didn’t have something, he might lose everything.

“I’m scared,” he admitted to JJ in a whisper.

“Oh, Spence,” she said sadly, wrapping her arms around his shoulder from her standing position. “She’s going to be okay, she’s too strong to die.”

Spencer let out a sob as he hugged JJ back.

In the waiting room, the rest of the team sat anxiously. Derek muttered some prayer to a God he struggled to believe in, in hopes that he might grant some mercy for Y/N.

Rossi prayed to a God he did believe in.

Blake closed her eyes and just hoped.

Penelope sat staring at a random tile on the floor, muttering “She’s gonna be okay” under her breath repeatedly.

Hotch paced back and forth in the room.

Spencer was told by a doctor he was allowed to go to the waiting room with the rest of the team. It wasn’t really a suggestion though, the ER nurse gave JJ a pleading look because they needed the bed for other patients.

“Spence, let’s go see the rest of the team,” JJ cooed, coaxing him up with one arm and leading him to the waiting room.

When they entered the room, each one of them looked up and gave Spencer a sad smile.

Penelope stood up from her chair though, walking over and standing in front of him. She was about to say something, her mouth opening, and closing while she struggled to get the voice out.

But Spencer knew what she meant and just nodded.

Penelope let out a sob and wrapped her arms around Spencer tightly. Her tears were full of fear for Y/N and sorrow for Spencer.

“Family of Y/N Y/L/N?”

Everyone faced the doctor that walked into the room.

“How is she?” Rossi asked, being the only one who could voice the question.

The doctor let out a breath that was anything but reassuring. “She coded, but we were able to bring her back. She’s out of surgery now but we don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

“But she’s okay?” Spencer asked, needing to hear those words so he could breathe again.

“She’s okay.”

Spencer took in a breath, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

“Can we see her?” Penelope asked.

“Yeah, follow me,” The doctor said and began leading the group to the room.

In the bed laid Y/N, connected to many I.V.’s and an oxygen tube up her nose. But she was there. Alive and breathing.

Spencer rushed to her side, grabbing her hand and lacing it with his. Tears of joy escaping his eyes.

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

Five days. That’s how long Y/N had been asleep for now. Hotch had given the team time off if needed, seeing as Y/N would need them as soon as she woke up.

Each day, a different member of the team would come in and hang out with Spencer. Who stayed there full time. He may have left once to take a shower and a couple of changes of clothes. Other than that, he hadn’t left Y/N’s side at all.

Penelope had brought many flowers, balloons, and baskets in for Y/N. She brought her favorite muffins for when she woke up, pink roses which were her favorite, and many balloons. So many balloons that when Penelope brought in more one day, he made her take some out so the new ones would have room.

Today was Rossi’s day in the rotation for visitation. He had been there a couple of times before, but only for an hour or two, today was his whole day he got to spend there.

“Hey, Kid,” Rossi greeted, handing him a coffee he brought.

“Hey, thanks,” Spencer said, taking the warm drink from his hand.

“No problem,” Rossi smiled, taking a seat in the chair on the other side of Y/N’s bed. “Has there been any changes?”

“No, doctors still don’t know why she hasn’t woken up,” Spencer sighed after taking a sip of the coffee. He looked up to her peaceful face. “I even called London, her best friend who’s a doctor and one of the best hospitals in the US, and she and her colleagues can’t figure out anything.” He took his hand out of her and brushed a piece of hair that had fallen in her face away.

Rossi smiled at Spencer’s gesture, hoping that she woke up soon so he didn’t have to watch Spencer torment himself anymore with staying there.

“How are you holding up?” Rossi asked, concern for the young man who he hadn’t seen outside this hospital in days.

“Alright, I guess,” Spencer answered truthfully.

When a comfortable silence fell between the two, the sounds of beeping coming from the heart monitor beating like a slow metronome in the back, Spencer began to laugh at a thought he had.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s not funny at all actually,” Spencer admitted and kept chuckling. “It’s just, um, on day three of her coma, I got mad.”

“At what?”

“At Y/N,” Spencer laughed, clearly needing sleep. “I was mad because when she left, she left me a letter and a ring, promising me she would come back safely, and now.”

Spencer's laugh soon faltered into a sob. “And now, she’s like this.”

Rossi looked at him with agony, he had never seen Spencer like this. So broken, so upset, so..unknowing.

“Spencer, I know it’s really hard to think of right now, but you have to push through,” Rossi told him, leaning forward in his seat. “You and I know she’s too competitive to die, she won’t let it beat her. Think of it as a time out in the game, she needs a second to figure out her game plan so she can come back and win.”

Spencer smiled at the analogy, reaching for Y/N’s hand again and squeezing it like he had done many times before. What surprised him this time about this time was, she squeezed back.

Spencer’s head jerked up to her eyes to see if hers were open. And low and behold, there they were, sparkling like they normally do and making his heart melt.

“Y/N…” Spencer whispered, standing up from his chair and sitting on the bed. His left hand reached up to caress her head. “You’re awake.”

“She is,” Rossi said with a bright smile, standing up from his seat. “I’m going to go get the doctor.” He reached his hand over the edge of the bed and squeezed her ankle before leaving.

“Thank you,” Spencer said and turned back to Y/N. He let out tears from his eyes as he looked down at the woman he loved with all his heart.

“Hey, don’t cry,” she soothed, wiping his tears away that fell down his face. “I’m okay, see.”

“I know, I know,” he laughed with tears.

He reached down and let their lips mold together. He poured all the emotion he could into the kiss, letting go of her hand so he could use both hands to hold her face. Her arms reached up to the short distance so her hands could cup his neck. His lips tasted like coffee, but they were a pain killer for anything Y/N was feeling right now.

“I love you,” Spencer whispered, his forehead resting on hers when they parted.

“I love you too,” she mumbled with a smile.

“Marry me,” Spencer blurted, pulling his forehead off of hers.

“What?”

“Marry me.” He dropped to one knee at her bedside, fumbling with the ring in its box as he pulled it out of his pocket. “I know that we have an inconvenient job, and terrible luck-”

“We have the shittiest luck,” Y/N agreed with a laugh.

“We do. But I believe...I believe that with you, I am the luckiest man alive. And there’s no way I could spend my life without you because you are the love of my life Y/N Y/L/N. Every moment I didn’t know you were okay, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I-I just can’t imagine me without you.”

Y/N had tears pouring out of her eyes now, she loved this man with all her heart and soul.

“So, marry me,” Spencer finished, opening the box to reveal the ring Y/N had seen the other night.

“Yeah,” Y/N whispered, nodding her head furiously. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer’s mouth formed a wide smile as he pulled the ring out of the box and placing it on her finger. She reached up, grabbing her face and connected them in a loving kiss full of smiles and tears of joy.

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yukipri · 4 years

Text

On the Baratie, Part 5 Epilogue - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

Here’s the final part of the Baratie series!

Includes my personal headcanons for Thatch’s backstory in this AU (and possibly canon, as I doubt we’ll learn much more about him sigh).

WARNINGS (actual warnings this time):

＊Trigger warnings for non-graphic violence, gore, unwilling self-harm, mention of thoughts of suicide, and body horror. Canon-typical dark backstory.

Slight ship warnings for: minor Sanji x Luffy, Thatch x Luffy, hint of bg Sabo x Luffy, but not ship-focused.

Continues off of past parts!

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 1

👒🐟On the Baratie, Prologue

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 2

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 3

👒🐟On the Baratie, Part 4

They've been traveling together for a while now. With more additions to the crew, Sanji's no longer the newest member. They leave East Blue, crossing over to the Grand Line. Their voyage continues onward.

Fitting into his role as the second cook of the ASL Pirates was easier than Sanji could have ever hoped, and he knows it's largely due to Thatch. Thatch, who, for all his incredible skill and titles and history, turns out to be...a remarkably normal person. It takes less than an hour for Sanji's awe over Thatch being his childhood idol to turn into pure indignation when the other cook professes his love for Luffy, and now their daily proposals to Luffy with food are just part of routine on the Merry.

(Sanji still knows his cooking is amateur in comparison to Thatch's, but none of their crew seems to realize, and Luffy eats all their food with equal gusto. Even Thatch himself only ever compliments Sanji, often with ridiculous faux outrage that Sanji's cooking looks better, which is absolutely false, Sanji would know. But even so, the man sounds so genuinely offended that Sanji can't help but appreciate the lengths the older man will go to in order to keep Sanji from feeling inferior.)

It's during a rare moment of calm, when the skies are clear and Deuce and Nami seem relaxed about their progress, when Sanji decides there's never going to be a better time to ask. He finishes washing the last of the pastry plates from the desserts the crew had just finished devouring (his hands momentarily pause on a plate that Ace had to pull out of Luffy's throat when she swallowed it whole along with the pastry, and Sanji allows himself a moment of imagining that the plate with her slobber is somewhat like an indirect kiss...), before he exits the kitchen to go to his locker.

From the locker, buried beneath gravure magazines of buxom ladies whose beauty will never compare to Luffy's, he pulls out a magazine far more valuable to him, the only one of its kind that he'd brought with him from the Baratie.

Back up on the main deck, Sanji finds Thatch sitting by the mast while watching Luffy and Usopp play with some new contraption the latter made. He looks up when he senses Sanji's approach, grimacing when the movement makes the wind blow his now loose hair into his mouth.

"I need a hair tie if Marco's not going to send me my damn hair wax," Thatch complains, even as he pats the ground next to him for Sanji to sit.

"You could always ask our lovely navigator," Sanji grunts as he drops down, careful not to fold the magazine, which Thatch has yet to notice.

"Ah, beautiful Miss Nami might have one, but her hair's pretty short...honestly more likely Deuce'll have one." Thatch sulks, because he'd really rather get a hair tie from a pretty lady, but as it is, Thatch probably has the longest hair on the crew at the moment, followed by their first mate. "If only our ladies had longer hair...ah, my darling Seastar with long hair..."

Sanji lets himself get drawn into imagining their most dazzling Lady Captain leaning against the rail of the Merry, sunlight sparkling off the waves in the background paling in comparison to her radiance. Her face is shadowed by her trademark straw hat, before she raises her head, causing long, silky strands to ripple around her like dark angel wings, glittering threads of black diamond dancing across her cheeks before she tucks them behind her ear with a small smile--

Both cooks sigh dreamily in perfect unison.

"Hey Luffy, they're thinking somethin' pervy about you again!" Usopp shouts in the background.

Both cooks ignore him, likewise in perfect synch.

Thatch regretfully pulls out of his Luffy Vision first. "So, you got something to talk to me about?" He knows it can't be about dinner, because they'd already started prepping for that.

Sanji blinks, and oh, there's Luffy, with her short hair, still just as lovely, probably doing something incredibly stupid and dangerous, but that's okay because Sabo's stepping in, and the Revolutionary may be batshit crazy but he won't let Luffy hurt herself--and right, he wanted to talk to Thatch.

He carefully brings the magazine out in front of him, and Thatch leans over curiously. The pages easily fall open to the column, remembering the page Sanji poured over countless times. Sanji hears Thatch's breath hitch.

"This you?" Sanji asks, looking at the faded photo of the smiling boy, before his eyes flick to Thatch.

The older man's eyes are wide, glued to the page. Sanji wordlessly offers him the magazine, and Thatch slowly takes it, his hands handling the paper carefully as though worried it'll crack.

"Yeah, that's me alright," Thatch murmurs, eyes scanning the column before his lips twist into a wry smile. "How the hell did you get your hands on this fossil?"

"Found it while we were looking for stuff for the Baratie's collection, some old second hand shop," Sanji says, and it's not a lie, but it's not like he can admit he was obsessed with them and actually hunted for them after obtaining the first ones.

Thatch makes a low sound of understanding, before he starts flipping through the rest of the magazine, pages that Sanji honestly doesn't even remember. "I wonder if this magazine's still even going..."

"It is," Sanji informs him. "It's changed a lot, but we still get it delivered."

Thatch laughs then, shaking his head as he closes the magazine and hands it back to Sanji with the same care. "I'm sure it has changed, after what happened, oh man..."

Sanji frowns. So something did happen.

"So how did the kid in this end up a Whitebeard pirate?" he asks, but he means, How did the boy's adventure end?

"Mm, you sure you wanna know? It's not a particularly nice story, though I suppose it has a happy end." Thatch leans back heavily against the mast, his hand subconsciously reaching up to brush hair away from his face, lingering on the deep, if old scar around his left eye. Sanji wonders if it's related.

"If it's something you don't mind sharing. I'm sure I can handle it."

They're interrupted by a crash, and look up to see Sabo heaving Luffy up back over the rail by the end of her tail. She'd clearly almost fallen overboard, again, but is laughing as carefree as ever, even as Usopp wrings his hands apologetically behind them. Sabo doesn't look mad though, and is stroking Luffy's hair now that she's safely back on deck and in his arms, his face disgustingly besotted.

Deuce and Nami come out of the cabin at the noise, and Ace and Zoro startle awake from their respective naps as well. Deuce takes one look at what's going on, and launches into a full blown scolding session for all three of the members involved, clearly dissatisfied with the way Sabo handled it. It had only taken the first mate a few days in his company before Deuce had determined that no matter how sensible Sabo may seem at times, he's still Another Stupid Brother, and therefore gets the same treatment.

The rest of the crew listening in winces when Deuce hurls a, "Luffy being stupid is one thing, but you're WAY too lenient with her, you foolish Revolutionary!" Nami and Koala cheer him on in the background.

("Told you," Ace mouths, before hastily looking away when Deuce's gaze snaps to him.)

Usopp looks thoroughly chastised and sincerely sorry, Sabo looks weirdly pleased as though being told he's lenient is a compliment, and Luffy looks bored and is searching for an escape when her gaze lands on the two cooks.

"Thatch! Story time?!" is all the warning they get, before Luffy's arms grab onto the mast behind them and the mermaid torpedoes head-first into Thatch's chest. It's a testament to the Whitebeard Commander's sturdiness that all he does is grunt at the considerable impact, even as Sanji winces in sympathy. That'll definitely bruise.

"Alright, yeah story time, if anyone wants to hear my boring old past," Thatch agrees, and Luffy cheers, turning herself sideways and flopping down on Thatch's crossed legs to look up at him with eyes sparkling with expectation. Sanji isn't even jealous, because in her new position, Luffy's thrown her tail across Sanji's lap, and he begins reverently rubbing circles into her soft scales, heat creeping up his cheeks when her flukes flick with pleasure.

Deuce sighs, giving up on his scolding as everyone gathers around the cooks. But he doesn't seem too disappointed, and pulls out his notebook as he joins them, as though he intends on recording whatever Thatch's going to say. Ace plops himself down on Thatch's other side, ruffling Luffy's hair distractedly and hiding his curiosity poorly. Sanji gets the feeling that despite knowing him for much longer, Ace hasn't heard much about Thatch's past either.

"Well, so..."

Thatch was born to a middle class family in a relatively active port town on the Grand Line. His parents ran a modest diner, certainly nothing high class, but popular enough among the locals to almost always have full seats.

Thatch was what they called a "child prodigy." He'd started helping in the kitchen simply because he wanted to do the same things as his parents, but by the time he was seven, he'd already surpassed both of them in skill. His parents decided to leave the kitchen to him, while they focussed on management.

With Thatch behind the menu, the restaurant's popularity grew, drawing more traffic. Among their visitors were occasional food critics, who spread their business's reputation and made it something of a cult tourist spot.

When Thatch was nine, his father came up with the idea that it might be good publicity, for people to know that a literal child was behind their now famous restaurant's food. And in the name of said publicity, he also decided to have the restaurant officially under Thatch's name, although is parents still managed it.

"Child prodigy chef owns his own restaurant," was definitely a headline that journalists latched onto. The berries were rolling in.

Thatch himself, he didn't really care about that. He rarely ever left the kitchen now, constantly cooking, constantly coming up with new menu items, constantly training new chefs as their once small family diner expanded into a chain. He didn't really mind it, he loved cooking after all, but he often wished he still had time to talk to patrons, or explore town. While there weren't any child labor laws in their country, he couldn't go to school or make friends or do anything a normal child might otherwise enjoy.

So when the largest, most prominent cooking magazine sent a representative to talk about a potential column centered around him, Thatch was hopeful. He'd always dreamed of leaving the island, and it'd never seemed like an achievable dream. He wanted to exposure to new things to expand his cooking repertoire, and he wanted to be able to challenge himself as a cook--but more than anything, he also just wanted go and see what might be out there, outside of his diner's kitchen.

His parents reluctantly agreed. At this point, Thatch had trained enough experienced cooks, and their reputation was established enough that Thatch's temporary absence wouldn't damage them. And Thatch knew his parents were drawn by the potential for greater publicity from the column, and Thatch (and their restaurant) possibly becoming a household name not just on the Grand Line, but across the world.

(Thatch never thought his parents were bad people, or even bad parents. He hadn't wanted for anything, and they let him pursue and nurture his passion. That they were business-minded, and had also come to see Thatch as an asset and publicity tool was something he understood. They still loved him, in their own way.)

His parents' only condition was that Thatch return in a few years, before he was fifteen. A "child prodigy" becomes less interesting with age, and eventually becomes "a normal adult." They wanted Thatch back before that, to reestablish his connection to their diner, before he inevitably faded out of public interest, or had to re-establish his identity as an adult cook.

And so at eleven years old, what seemed like the entire town saw off Thatch, who set sail on a small ship manned by experienced sailors, and chaperoned by the journalist who would be documenting his voyage.

For the first two years, the journey was everything Thatch had ever wanted. They would go to new islands, information provided to him by the journalist, and then he would be given free reign to do whatever he wanted, so long as it included food and cooking, which is what Thatch would have been drawn to do anyway. That there were always a handful of adults a few paces behind him, documenting everything he did and forcing him to voice his thoughts out loud, all eventually faded into the background. Thatch got used to voicing his inner thoughts for their benefit. It was hardly a chore, and Thatch was having the time of his life.

But all things eventually change. Due to the success of the column, Thatch's journalist was given a promotion, and the last stretch of his journey before Thatch was to return to his home island was assigned to a new journalist. Thatch had always known that their relationship was strictly professional, and was used to changing traveling companions at this point. It felt a bit lonely that the first journalist, the only person who had remained a constant, was leaving...but he understood.

It's just business, after all.

The new journalist replaced the old one, and their journey continued--or at least, it was supposed to.

Child!Thatch, adult Thatch would later think, was remarkably naive and sheltered for all that he was a veteran cook. He was used to having things being laid out in front of him on a neat platter, for the adults in his life to control all aspects of his life, conveniently convincing himself that it's what he wanted anyway. He was used to the adults taking care of all the details, because all Thatch had to do to make everyone happy was cook. He not once doubted those responsible for his life, and blindly trusted that they would keep everything smooth and safe for him.

Because when one day, thirteen-year old Thatch woke up to see red staining the walls of the cabin, and then looked around to find the corpses of everyone else on the ship strewn around him, it took a remarkably long time for him to process that this definitely wasn't what was supposed to happen.

He was disoriented, too numb to even feel panic or put up a fight when the new journalist came in and tied him up to pass him to the pirates who had decimated the crew.

Pirates. It wasn't the Golden Age of Piracy yet, and although the Roger Pirates and other famous names were often whispered about, most sailors didn't expect to personally run into pirates. Thatch had been warned of their existence, but hadn't really thought much on them, as they had seemed irrelevant to his own peaceful civilian adventures.

The pirates and the journalist had a deal, he gathered. The pirates had wanted to get their hands on the famous child prodigy cook, and were willing to pay good money. The journalist had agreed, and had summoned the pirates to their location. Everyone but Thatch and the journalist had been killed to erase witnesses.

Before handing Thatch off to them, the journalist demanded payment first. Thatch remembers wondering why the journalist hadn't demanded anything before agreeing to the deal--it seemed a bad business tactic.

Thatch was standing right next to the journalist when the pirate captain drew his sword. Thatch wasn't scared, because he knew he wouldn't be hurt. He was an asset. And he probably knew what would happen before the journalist did.

He still remembers feeling the whoosh of air as the sword came, the sound of it hitting flesh, the dull thunk, the loosening of the arms gripping the rope that held Thatch bound.

Thatch thought ah, so human heads can be severed just as easily as fish heads.

Thatch didn't put up a fuss, going with the pirates. It was clear he couldn't have stayed on the ransacked ship, because even if he did, he had no way of manning the ship alone, even if he even knew how. And so he wordlessly followed, and continued to do what he'd done his whole life: obey adults.

And at first it wasn't bad. A kitchen was a kitchen, no matter how dirty, and Thatch knew how to please people with food. The pirates seemed overjoyed with Thatch's skill.

But some part of Thatch really wondered if that's all they wanted from him, and that bad feeling manifested itself as reality soon.

Hey brat, the captain said one day, and dumped a sack of ingredients Thatch had never used before into the kitchen. Turn this into something good. We need to get rid of an entire rival crew, and they're gluttons.

Thatch may never have used them before, but he recognized the things in the bag. They were all things he knew to avoid.

The pirate captain was asking him to make poison.

Thatch was a cook. No matter the reasons why people wanted him to cook, no matter who benefited and what money was passed around, and no matter how terrible the conditions--Thatch was alright so long as he could cook. Thatch cooked so that he could make delicious things that would in the end, contribute to nourishing people. He polished his skills to make that experience better, to make his patrons happier, to make himself feel more accomplished as a result.

Poison...that wasn't something that a cook could make.

Thatch, for the first time, spoke back to an adult. He felt that numb feeling again, over any fear.

I'm a cook, I can't make anything that can harm people. Please let me start preparing dinner. Thatch stated it as fact, and to him, it was.

The pirate struck Thatch. It was the first time he'd ever been hit, because as a child prodigy, as an asset, he'd always been too valuable to damage. But now...

You'll make it, or we have no need for you.

Bars were added to the kitchen, making it Thatch's cell. All edible ingredients were confiscated. And every day, the pirates came in with more ingredients, more demands.

Make an aphrodisiac. Make a date rape drug. Make something that'll make someone lose feeling in their limbs. Make something that'll cause loss of senses. Make something that'll cause crazy hallucinations. Make something deadly, but undetectable in water. Make something that can dissolve guts from the inside out. Make something that won't kill, but cause excruciating pain. Make something that WILL kill, but only after several days.

The pirates didn't want a cook. They wanted a master poisons brewer. Which, Thatch was not.

Every time Thatch refused, they beat him. They threatened to cut off his legs, because why would he need them, when all he needed were his hands? They threatened to carve out his eyes, and the captain stabbed a knife close to his left eye to show how serious he was. They left Thatch with running water, but didn't give him anything to eat, other than the deadly, horrible ingredients they'd left inside the kitchen for him to turn into even worse poisons.

Thatch sorted the ingredients by those least harmful, and kept himself alive by reluctantly eating those first, but knew that the longer this continued, the more permanent and fatal the damage those ingredients would cause.

(He tried to come up with ways to use what he had to nullify effects, but he was just a kid, and it was his first time trying to make actual medicine. His experiments were risky, and often failed.)

Thatch didn't know how long he was in there, his sense of time and self muddled as he survived off of numbing agents and aphrodisiacs and hallucinogens. They barely kept him alive, and made him feel horrible. He tried to remember why it was so important he kept eating them, and rationing them like they were valuable.

In the corner of the kitchen was an ever growing pile of bright, beautiful fruits that he knew would cause immediate agonizing death...but they looked so lusciously juicy and ripe, and it was getting harder to remember why he couldn't eat them.

Perhaps it was the hallucinogens, perhaps it was everything wrong with his body that Thatch had unwillingly caused himself by eating, but one day, Thatch realized he was going through the movements of peeling those fruits, chopping them, squeezing the juices and watching with fascination as they sizzled into the bubbling pot he was brewing. He was too entranced by the concoction to even notice that his hands were burning and blistering, or perhaps they were just too numb.

He added spices, adjusted heat, and hummed. It had been too long, since he had cooked.

Except he wasn't cooking, because this wasn't food.

It smelled quite delicious, Thatch thought, mildly impressed with himself. Something tropical and fruity, mellowed by mushrooms and a great many other herbs. And it looked aesthetically pleasing, with its dancing, hypnotic colors. If he hadn't known what had gone into it, he'd consider it presentable to critics as his next seasonal special.

But now that it was done, and ready to be served, Thatch had no clue what to do with it.

He hadn't thought that far (he wasn't thinking at all), and didn't know how to think about the thing he made, when it wasn't edible.

He supposed he could possibly see if it could melt through the bars of his cell, though he wasn't sure where he'd even go if he could escape. The cell didn't have any windows, and Thatch wasn't even sure they were at an island, they could still be on open water. Thatch might be able to throw it on a pirate, as a weapon. But there were dozens of pirates on board, and not nearly enough for all of them.

He could drink it himself. It would be an escape of sorts, he supposed.

It never crossed Thatch's mind to offer the concoction to the pirates, as a creation to be used.

He stood in the kitchen for hours, aimlessly stirring the pot, watching the brew get darker and darker, its magical colors turning into murky brown. Eventually, it became a thick, black tar-like substance that reflected no light, that looked like a void as Thatch stared into it.

A thin gray haze gradually began filling the room, and Thatch was well aware of it. He was already starting to feel noticeably worse than before. He supposed that was one way of giving himself a time limit: he'd either decide what to do with the brew, or succumb to the fumes first.

He distantly heard muted sounds overhead, and he realized the pirates may be fighting someone. It happened once in a while. But it was usually with other pirates, and he doubted it was the marines, and no civilian vessel would dare get close to such an obvious pirate ship. And well, if it was pirates...that's just more of the same, wasn't it?

Thatch eventually heard footsteps approaching the room, and someone coughing as they inhaled the fumes, now dense enough to be a dark smog that made it hard to see his own hands (or maybe that was the effect of the poison in him).

A creak--the cell doors were opening.

Thatch could barely think anymore, but made a split second decision. He didn't know what the consequences would be, but had a hunch he wouldn't survive long enough to find out anyway, so what did it matter.

He picked up the pot, and hurled all of its contents at the approaching figure.

There was a FUCK! and then--

Thatch won't ever forget what happened when that brew hit a human body.

But as he fell, the last of his strength gone, wondering if he should feel horrible or proud that he killed someone on his way out, Thatch saw the room light up, the black haze vanishing into searing, brilliant turquoise flames.

"And so that's how I met Marco!" Thatch says, voice surprisingly chipper, even though Sanji feels like retching.

"You melted him," Ace says flatly, voice a mix of horror and awe.

"Sure did, if he had been anyone else they probably woulda been a puddle of human goo, and even he got halfway there," Thatch agrees, his hands stroking Luffy's hair harder, as they'd been doing all throughout his story telling. "Though lucky me, to have thrown poison at possibly one of the only people in the world with instant self-regeneration and possibly immortality."

"Was he mad? Pineapple bird-man. Melting doesn't sound very fun," Luffy frowns. She'd admittedly fallen asleep for most of the story, but woke up again when Thatch's hands in her hair got more tense, more urgent. She contentedly nuzzles into his thigh, more interested in making sure that Thatch's alright than in his answer, and she purrs when he crooks his fingers to scritch her reassuringly.

"Oh sure, he was mad for a little bit, but he's a nice guy and was a worry-wort even back then, so he brought me to Pops. And well, it took a while, but we're best buddies now and have been for years! Fancy that."

Deuce was shaking his head. "I still can't believe that stupid crew wanted to take down Pops with poison of all things, and were stupid enough to enter his territory without it even being ready."

"Well, it's not like they could have won in direct combat, and to be fair, back then the Four Emperors weren't that established, and territories in the New World were a lot looser than they are now." Thatch shrugged. "If nothing else, it was a creative angle, if a poorly thought out one, unlike some people's way of challenging Pops." Ace fidgets uncomfortably here, and Deuce snorts.

"You..." Sanji's finally recovering from his queasiness, because fuck Thatch's tale really wasn't pretty, especially from a cook's perspective. "You don't mind fighting, and killing people now?" He glances at the swords strapped to Thatch's belt, and thinks about his own insistence to never use his hands in combat.

"Well, I'd prefer not to do it, same as anyone else. But I don't mind fighting in general, and once Pops adopted me, I wanted to be able to defend myself." Thatch laughs here, and it sounds bitter, making Luffy look up. "Haruta actually suggested I use poison, if I knew how to make one that could almost take down the Phoenix, and, well...that's a no. May have thrown him overboard for that, but he deserved it. I told them I was good with knives, and Vista helped me develop my own style."

The conversation moves on then, the other crew members chipping in with questions, but Sanji sort of tunes it all out. He thought he was over his queasiness, but it's back again. Being forced to brew poison, and being offered nothing but harmful things to eat...fuck. Even Judge hadn't done that...

He feels something wrap around him then, and Sanji looks down, and realizes that Luffy's looped her tail so that her flukes curl behind his back, securely holding him, even as she continues to nuzzle Thatch's leg for attention.

How weak he must be, Sanji thinks, to need his captain's comfort now. But it helps, and he gradually relaxes.

Eventually the others realize that the story's over, and disperse back to their usual tasks, leaving Thatch and Sanji and a snoozing Luffy curled around both of their laps.

"Well, I guess that explains how the boy prodigy's journey ended," Sanji says, reaching over to Thatch's side to run his hand through Luffy's hair, smiling when she hums happily.

Thatch makes a soft sound, that sounds like possibly disagreement. "Well, sure, I ended up joining the Whitebeard pirates, and never ended up going back to my hometown. Everyone thought I was dead anyway, and being on the Moby was better than any restaurant for me, because I got to feed my brothers and travel, at least wherever the Moby goes, and that's still a fine adventure in its own way. But I guess you're right in that with a territory and a literal army backing me up...it's not quite the same kind of adventure, without the trill of the unknown."

Thatch looks up then, and when his eyes sweep across their little ship, and the small crew strewn about it, he looks fond. "But I guess in a way, that's what I'm doing now, isn't it? I may no longer be a 'boy prodigy,' but me traveling with you guys, going back up the Grand Line...it's sorta like that journey again."

Sanji blinks.

"The end of that journey...maybe you're on it with me, right now." Thatch winks.

Sanji snorts. "That's so cheesy," he says, but he doesn't meant it, not really, because he can't deny the giddiness that begins welling up in him at the thought.

Because what adult doesn't still have a child inside them, buried underneath layers of years, still craving those wishful dreams from long ago?

There's a moment of silence, before both cooks break out into laughter, carefree and boyish.

And so their journey continues onward.

Aaand that's a wrap! For this lil story series within this ever growing AU at least!

It may be a cheesy ending, but it still feels like an ending of sorts? which, is something I usually never actually manage to write to, everything I write is usually either short or abandoned....so I Feel Accomplished ^ ^;;

If you managed to get through it all, thanks so much for reading and sticking with this!!!! ;A; I’m definitely extremely curious to know if you have any thoughts regarding my take on Thatch's past, or anything else, because as always any comments are HUGELY appreciated!

Thanks again!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid AU #Thatch #One Piece #Vinsmoke Sanji #text headcanons #longpost #long post #ThatchLu #SanLu #genderbend

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roguish-gallery · 4 years

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Did you ever make that joker tier list, I always like seeing what people think of all the different ones. Though if they put Romero last I can no longer respect them.

LMAO I DID! I think I’ve made it kind of obvious in this blog but I... don’t... particularly... care... for... the joker.... unless he’s, y’know, fun to watch. Cause he’s a clown, and clowns are supposed to be entertaining. But since you politely brought it up, and and because I have a deep respect for mutual Romero-lovers, I guess this would be a good time to explain my rankings and just discuss my general thoughts on each clown:

General Thoughts:

For the most part, I don’t really care for the Joker. This is hardly an uncommon opinion here on tumblr, but I definitely fall on the side of the fandom that feels that he gets too much attention from DC. I get WHY they use him so often for films and comics, and I don’t have anything against *most* folks who consider them their favorite Batman villain, but at this point he’s used more for shock value and as a crutch instead of anything interesting. Like, instead of giving attention to the other Rogues, writers (at least for the comics) will try and make up some bullshit story that they can shoehorn the Joker into, ‘cause it sells. It’s tiring, and I feel like the character has lost his meaning; I can only read so many stories about the Joker, I don’t fucking know, wearing a suit made from dead babies and Jason Todd’s flayed corpse before I get sick of it.

I’m at the point where I’ll like any Joker who’s just fun to watch. I genuinely respect those who prefer darker interpretations of the character, but that isn’t me; I vastly prefer the lighthearted takes on him, because... at this point... writers who use the “cleaner” version of him tend to be more creative, since they actually have to write a Joker story that doesn’t rely on gore/torture porn.

TIER ONE:

Joker Baby: Self explanatory. Joker Baby is thematic, thoughtful, and intense. Everytime I watch this video, I shiver with fear and pleasure; something primal in me awakens whenever Joker Baby runs his fingers through his spray-on dyed hair, and ends up smearing green paint on his forehead- it represents the inner turmoil, the chaos, that resides within the disturbed body that is Joker Baby. Nothing can ever hope to top the artistic and cultural impact Joker Baby has had on society.

TIER TWO:

Batman Ninja: I genuinely believe that Batman Ninja is one of the most fun, organic, and creative things to come out from the Batman side of DC comics in like... hmmm... a decade, maybe (I could talk for hours about how much I love this movie but that’s something for a future post). This Joker is easily, and unironically my favorite interpretation of the character, period. I love his energy, his design, everything. This is the most fun I’ve ever had watching a Joker on-screen, and for that I’ve gotta give the film credit where it is due.

Batman ‘66: I looooove Caesar Romero. Batman ‘66 in general is one of my favorite pieces of Batman media, and I absolutely adore this Joker. The show is pure, genuine fun, and it’s nice to turn my brain off and watch a show where the entire cast was allowed to goof around. This Joker is just a cute, goofy little clown-man who likes to commit crimes, go surfing, turn Gotham’s water reserve into gelatin, and have wild orgies with Penguin, Catwoman, and the Riddler. I massively appreciate the hustle. I love his little mustache and his facial expressions. I’d give him a chaste little kiss on the cheek if I could.

The Batman: EXTREMELY CONTROVERSIAL TAKE BUT. I think TB!Joker is better than what people will give him credit for. I can only imagine how stressful it must have been to be the first Batman cartoon to follow BTAS and the writers for this show knew they were gonna be fucked no matter what they did with the Joker, so they just decided to try something completely different with him. Personally, I appreciate the new direction- he has a fun, unhinged energy. I’ve placed him higher than BTAS/BTNA!Joker simply because The Batman was the show that got me into the Rogues in the first place, and I’m just a bit closer to this Joker because of it. Also his vampire form was cool as FUCK in Batman Vs. Dracula and the scene where he gets drenched in blood at a blood bank is fucking awesome.

Batman the Animated Series/The New Adventures: Everyone loves BTAS’s Joker, and I’m no exception. Mark Hamill is fucking great, and the writers clearly knew the character well enough to create a version of him that can be fun and threatening. As an aside, I unironically like his redesign in BTNA- I remember Hamill mentioning somewhere that he thought it was neat that this Joker looked more like a shark (I’ll see if I can find a source on that... I think he said it in an interview with Kevin Smith?) and I kinda agree with him. the redesigns in the final season are hit or miss, but I didn’t get why so many people bitched about the Joker’s new look.

Batman Unlimited: Hear me out... Hear me out... Clown... funny... and cute... He wears a little crown and gives Solomon Grundy a little smooch on the cheek and it is as delightful as it sounds. Yes the Batman Unlimited films literally only exist to sell toys but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy them on some ironic level.

TIER THREE:

Lego Batman: He’s a gay icon. He has the range. Enough said.

White Knight: This is just a genuinely good, original take on the character, and the art in White Knight is absolutely gorgeous.

Arkham: My friends and I joke that this Joker is basically a more unhinged version of BTAS! Joker and... yeah. I’m glad Hamill and Paul Dini got to fuck around with the character more, but I never really dwelled on the Joker parts of the games like I might have for other characters. I definitely liked him the most in Arkham Asylum, as he was more fun to watch. Arkham City was fiiiiine, but I think I replayed the game so much that I kinda got fatigued with everything about it. Genuinely hated his part in Origins, and I was pissed that he stole the attention from Black Mask and Bane (who’s the best fucking part of Origins IMO). I’ll admit that I... Haven’t... played... Knight yet (I have it on PC but my laptop is too wimpy to run it) but like... He’s dead at that point, so I’d assume he isn’t the main point of that game anyway. I love Mark Hamill and the fact I can personally beat the shit out of this Joker, so he’s ranked up pretty high for those reasons.

TIER FOUR:

Batman ‘89: TBH this Joker should be a rank higher, but I’m too lazy to hop onto PicsArt to change it. NIcholson was an excellent choice, and I apprecaite how this Joker makes use of the playful and unhinged aspects of the character. Also, his outfits are cute, and I love the museum scene.

Brave and the Bold: Technically this Joker SHOULD be ranked higher since he’s literally based on the more lighthearted comics in the 60′s but... ehhh... I haven’t really watched BATB so I don’t have any strong opinions on the show and how it handles the character. he’s ranked this high through beause I appreciate what they were going for.

Golden Age: The quality of comics are always subjective, based on the creative team behind them. Some I’ll like more, others less so, It’s kind of hard to rank the pre-52 comic version of the Joker because of this.

TIER FIVE:

Killing Joke: Read it, didn’t care for it. I acknowledge how massive the impact this comic had on... everything, but just because I recognize how important this graphic novel is, doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The Dark Knight: Ledger did an excellent job with the role, but uhh... I’m kind of sick of the alt-right chuds who are out there sucking this Joker’s dick. The fanbase definitely ruined the character for me.

TIER SIX:

99′: Eh

Endgame: No

Suicide Squad: NO

Death of the Family: Hate him. Despise him. Lame stupid dumb little edgy bitch.

Gotham (Jeremiah): I don’t particulary care for Gotham in general, but the only reason I ranked this Joker over Jerome is beause I thought it was kinda funny to see that they made him a little rat-man, and I liked watching all the fujoshi on here cry and complain that they can’t ship this version of the joker with the pre-pubescent Bruce Wayne in the show bc he’s too ugly.

Gotham (Jerome): stop shippping this freak (who is fucking eighteen years old) with a literal twelve year old child. what the FUCK is wrong with yall.

UNRANKED:

The Joker (2019): I don’t plan on watching this film, nor will I ever. I know this is ironic, coming from someone who runs a Rogue blog, but stuff that focuses primarily on a character’s deteriorating mental health makes me reaaaaallllllyyyyy anxious (it’s kind of a phobia) and considering that I don’t particularly the Joker, I have no reason to watch something I know will only give my dumb ADHD-ass intrusive throughts.

#tier list #this was nice to finally write out- I don't typically write Joker stuff unless someone prompts it #the joker #gonna tag this as discourse just to hopefully keep it out of ppl's feed #bc i know how... defensive... joker fans... can get...#discourse #long post

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thewalkingdead-fan101 · 4 years

Text

In This Hell Daryl Dixon X Reader Part 4/??

Hey Guys! Part 4 is here! I really hope that you guys enjoy it! I also apologise if something isn't written correctly. :) Warnings- General Walking dead warnings, Blood, Gore, Swearing.

Opening my eyes, I sit up uncomfortably as I stretch.  Last night, the group had a restless nights sleep… well more so than usual. Daryl left in the middle of the night, to look for Sophia, and still hasn’t come back. Carol was up all night crying…  Not that I blame her, Her daughter is missing. "Morning." "Morning Carol." I smiled softly. "Where's Daryl?" She asked watching the door behind me. "He left last night, and went looking, still hasn't come back that I know of.” "Oh.. My, I am so sorry." "Don't be.. He is a grown man, he can handle himself." "I really do appreciate this." "I know that if it was my child out there you'd help to find them." She softly smiled nodding, then hugged me. "I'll see what's going on." I smiled and walked out. I look out and seen Daryl, leaning against the traffic barrier, exhaling smoke.  We locked eyes from across the car wrecks. “At least he is okay.” I said under my breath. I walked over to where the everyone was gathering supplies for their search party. “Morning Glenn." I smiled, walking past. "Everyone. Come here." We all walked towards where Rick was. He unfolded an arsenal on the hood of a car. "Everybody takes a weapon." "These aren't the kind of weapons we need. What about the guns?" Andrea asked, "We've been over that. Daryl, Rick and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles." My brother answered "It's not the trees I'm worried about." "Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it." Shane said. "The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down the other side. Chances are she'll be by the creek... It's her only landmark." Daryl said. "Stay quiet, stay sharp. Keep space between you, but always stay within sight of each other." "Everybody assemble your packs." Shane announced. They better not think that I'm staying here. "Shane" I ran after him. "Yeah?" He asked.  Before I got the chance to say anything, arms wrapped around me and started to carry me away. I didn't scream because Shane was laughing as soon as it happened, so it wasn't a walker. I was put down away from everyone. "How-" My back was pushed against a car, and his lips crashed to mine.. I bit his lip, not hard but not soft. "What was that for?!" "For not letting me know that you were okay…” I said sweetly. “Ya don’t need to worry about me.” “I do though… I worry about you.” "I'll see ya later." He said softly kissing my neck. "Huh?" "You're gonna be staying here while we look for Sophia." He continued. I rolled my head back. "Okay… I will see you when you get back.” I closed my eyes and the sensation stopped. My eyes shot open to see Daryl, running towards the group. I scoffed when realisation hit me. He hit me where I was most vulnerable… I smirked, that asshole. I walked back to the RV. "Why are you so happy?" "That man... Deserves an award for that." We looked at each other and laughed. "Where's Dale?" We both got up and looked atop the RV. "Ain't you supposed to be fixing that radiator? What if they come back with Sophia and Rick wants to move on right away?" "I had it fixed yesterday." "What? What was all that rubbing and sanding for then? That just bullshit?" "Yeah, that's one word, another word would be pantomime. Just for show… No one else needs the know that." "Pantomime…” T-dog sighed. "If the others know we're mobile-" "They'd just want to go." I answered. "So you don't think they're gonna find Sophia, that it?" "I'm just guarding against the worst. Sooner or later, if she isn't found, people will start doing the math. I want to hold off the needs-of-the-many-versus-the-needs-of-the-few arguments as long as I can." "That's one tricky hose, huh?" "Very." Dale smiled. "Look I'm going to look around for a bit, is there anything I need to look for?" "Not at this moment. But please, please stay close." Dale said. I grabbed a duffel bag I found laying on the ground earlier, slinging it over my shoulder. "Stay safe." "Will do."  I was walking around for almost two hours and the bag was almost full. I heard a shuffle behind me and turned quickly, only to see a rabbit run across the highway, I smiled and sighed when I heard a snarl. I looked back to see a walker coming my way I looked down and saw a stick, ducking down and picking it up I lodged it into its eye, over and over again, it's blood splattered all over my shirt, neck and face. I decided to walk back and as I arrived I over-heard Dale and T-dogs conversation. "What are we doing?" "Pulling supplies together." "No, I mean.. What are we doing? People off in the woods, they's looking for that poor girl and we're here. Why? Because they think that we're the weakest. What are you, 70?" "Sixty-four." "Uh huh. And I'm the one black guy. Realise how precarious that makes my situation?" "What the hell are you talking about?" "I'm talking about two good-old-boy cowboy sheriffs and a redneck whose brother cut off his own hand because I dropped a key.. Who in that scenario you think is gonna be first to get lynched?" "You can't be serious... Am I... Hey, am I missing something? Those Cowboys have done alright by Us. And if I'm not mistaken that redneck went out of his way to save your ass… More than once." "And don't forget about Andrea. Kills her own sister." "She was already dead." "Then wants to blow herself up. Yeah, she's all there." "She's having a tough time. What is wrong with you?" "The whole world is having a tough time. Damn, man! Open your eyes. Look where we are! Stuck in this mess here!" "Shhh." "Let's just go.. Let's just take the RV." "You've gone off the deep end." "I mean it, man. Why are we on the side of the road like live bait? Let's go, you and me and (Y/n). Let's go before they get back." "Oh, my god! You're burning up. Give me that! Come on! Here, take these. We've got to knock that fever down....where the hell are they?" "Dale, We are the weak links. An old man, a black guy and a little pregnant (Y/S/T) girl." I took a deep breath in and what was being said.  “Nice to know what really goes on in that head of yours Theodore.. There should be some drugs in the bag." I said throwing the duffel bag at him.  As the bag landed in front of Theodore, I noticed the two of them slowly stand up.  “Oh, my god! Is that blood?" Dale rushed over. "Yeah. I took down a walker. It’s no big deal.” “No big-“ dale started but was interrupted by a loud scream erupted from the forest. Both Dale and I hurried to the Forrest line. All of a sudden it was quiet. After about 10 minutes of standing there waiting, I was about to walk away.  "They're back." Dale said. "Carl's been shot." Glenn said stepping over the railing. "Shot? What do you mean shot?" "I don't know, Dale, I wasn't there. All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori." "And you let her?" Dale asked. I hugged Carol as she shook her head, after a few seconds she left for the RV. "Climbed down out of my asshole, man. Rick sent her, she knew Lori's Name and Carl's." Daryl said walking past, not even acknowledging that I was there. "I heard screams, was that you?" Dale asked Andrea. "She got attacked by a walker. It was a close call." "Andrea, are you alright?" She looked at him and the look on her face showed pure annoyance. "Let's go." We started to walk back when all of a sudden Daryl burst out of the RV, running towards us. Next thing i know is that I was being crushed in a hug. "You do know that if I can't breathe neither can the baby." I laughed softly. He pulled back mumbling something when he looked down. "Why are ya bloody?" I stayed silent. "Answer me." "I was attacked by a walker, and before you go and yell at them for it, I decided to look for supplies." "You are on lockdown, from now on, you ain't being alone." "Daryl, I’m not going to be a damsel in distress, or bait. Im not going to be in lock down.” "You're on lockdown! You ain't gonna be Bait and you ain't gonna be alone." “I guess that there is no point in arguing?” “Nah, there ain't. This conversation is over.”  We both returned to the group.  “The girl on the horse, Maggie, she gave us clear instructions on how to get to the farm. We could all relocate there.” Glenn suggested. “I won't do it. We can't just leave.” Carol defended. “Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak.” Dale tried reasoning. “What if she comes back and we're not here? It could happen.” She argued “If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be awful.” Andrea cut in. “Okay. We got to plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV.” Daryl spoke. “If the RV is staying, I am too.” “Thank you. Thank you both.” Carol smiled softly at Dale and Daryl. “I’m in.” Andrea nodded. “Well, if you're all staying then I’m-“ “Not you, Glenn. You're going. Take Carol's Cherokee.” Dale argued “Me? Why is it always me?” “You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what's going on. But most important, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics, the ones that (Y/n) found won’t help for much longer. Because if not, T-Dog will die, no joke.” Dale stated. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Daryl walk over to Merle’s motorcycle. “Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle. Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash. Crystal, X. Don't need that. Got some kick ass painkillers. Doxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the clap on occasion.”  He tossed over a bag of assorted drugs, then pointed at me. “You, get ya stuff. You’re going with Glenn and Dog.”  “Excuse me?”  “You heard me.” He said walking away.

I ran after him.  “Daryl, I want to stay, I want to be here for Carol.”  “I don’t care what ya want.”  “Why are you acting like this?”  “Im already babysitting the others. Im not babysitting you too.”  “Are you being serious? I don’t need to be babysat!”  “You’re an easy target out here. It’s almost dark. You’re going with them.” “Daryl-“  “I ain’t arguing with ya. Get your shit.” He stalked off. I sighed in defeat and entered the RV, grabbing my backpack, making sure that I had the book that has become my new best friend, along the journey.  As I exited the RV I noticed Glenn helping T-dog into the Cherokee. Making my way towards the car, I was pulled aside and into a hug. “Thank you. For everything.” Carol sniffled into my shoulder.  “Hey, we’re going to find her.” I responded hugging her closer. I could feel her body softly shake against mine as she sobbed.  “You’re so strong Carol, Sophia needs that when she comes back. She needs you at your best.” I pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheek. “I will see you again soon.” I smiled softly. “Please, Make sure you tell Lori that I’m praying for Carl.” “I will. Stay safe.” I walked over to where Glenn was talking to T-Dog and Dale.  “You’re coming?” T-dog asked.  “I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” I sarcastically laughed. “It may be the safest place for you. Especially in your predicament.” Andrea stated. “In my predicament?” I scoffed “I didn’t mean to offend you.” Andrea sighed pulling me in for a small hug. “It’s fine.”  “I think it’s time for you guys to hit the road, while there’s still some daylight. Dont want to be taking any wrong turns.” Dale smiled. “Dale, Just remember, Backtrack to Fairburn road, the farm is two miles down. The mailbox says Greene.” Glenn stopped.  “Fairburn, two miles down, Greene.” He nodded. “Where’s Daryl?” I asked hopeful. “Im not sure.” Dale smiled sadly.  “Make sure you’re all safe please… Thank you.” I replied hugging him, getting into the car, behind T-dog.  “I will.” Dale nodded.  Glenn put the Cherokee in reverse, slowly peeling out before turning around. As the car was turning, I spotted a pair of eyes watching, leaning against one of the trees. “Fairburn isn’t that far. Maybe 10 minutes?” Glenn spoke up, trying to fill the silence. “Is this really a good idea? I mean we don’t even know who these people are.” I responded.  “They seem normal. I mean why would Rick send someone to us if they were going to hurt us?”  “Crazier things have happened.” T-dog muttered. “Come on guys, we need to be positive. They’re helping Carl. They don’t need to.” Glenn stated.  After turning onto Fairburn Road, we continued on for the two miles.  “Glenn. I think we missed it.”  “What?”  “The farm, I think we missed it…”  “Are you sure?” He asked pulling up. “I think so? We’re looking for Greene right?” I asked.  “Yeah.” He sighed. “How far?”  “Not that far… I think it’s the one behind us, I’ll go check.” I went to open the door. “No. Daryl will kill me if something happens. I’ll just back up.” He smiled nervously.  He put the car into reverse, making sure to shine the headlights onto the mailbox when it entered our view.  “You were right… Greene.”  “Ill get the gate. There’s no walkers around, and it looks safe to me.” I smiled, jumping out and walking toward the gate, not leaving any time to argue.  “(Y/n)! Get back in the car! Glen whisper shouted from the driver side window. Unlatching the chain, I pushed the gate inwards and followed through.  “Glenn, hurry up and drive in.”  The car slowly started rolling forward, stopping a metre away from the gate. I pushed it closed and re-latched the gate before jumping back into the car. “Lets go.” I smiled. Glenn shook his head and T-dog chuckled. We drove down the road, leading towards a beautiful farm house. Stopping the car we all got out and walked up the front steps.  “You okay T?” I asked looking over as he shivered, only for him to nod. We all stopped and looked at the front door. “So do we ring the bell? I mean it looks like people live here.” Glenn looked at us. “We're past this kind of stuff, aren't we? Having to be considerate.” T-dog asked. “Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?” I jumped, looking over to where the voice came from, watching a young woman with short brown hair, stand up and walk toward us. “Uh, hi. Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything. Hello. Nice to see you again. We met before briefly.” Glenn rambled. “Look, we came to help. There anything we can do? It's not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though.” “We'll have it looked at. I'll tell them you're here.” “We have some painkillers and antibiotics. I already gave him some. If Carl needs any…” “Come on inside. I'll make you something to eat.” She smiled at us. We followed her inside, to see Rick and Lori standing in one of the door frames.

“Hey” Glenn patted him on the shoulder. “Hey” he returned it. “Um, we're here, okay?” Glenn nodded. “Thank you.” Lori sighed. “Whatever you need.” T-dog added, stepping aside for me. “Lori.” I pulled her in for a hug. “(Y/n/n).” She hugged back as hard as I did. We pulled away.  “What are you doing here?” She asked. “I was overruled by Daryl. I wanted to make sure that you guys are okay…” I smiled softly pushing her hair out of her face. She laughed softly, her eyes rimmed red from the tears.  “How is Carl? What’s happening?” I asked. “He was shot, the bullet, it, it broke. A fragment has caused internal bleeding. He is having seizures and its terrifying me. This man Hershel, he is going to operate... one of his group shot Carl, he is with Shane trying to find a respirator I think... I could lose my boy.” She responded tears streaming down her face. “Oh honey.” I puled her back in for another hug.  “You Grimes’ are strong. He will pull through. Go, be with your husband and your boy. I’ll be out here.” I smiled as she nodded. “Thank you.” She said looking at me before disappearing into the room.  I followed the direction Glenn and T-dog went, entering a kitchen/dining area. “(Y/n), this is Maggie and this is Patricia...” Glenn introduced me. “Nice to meet you both. Thank you for your hospitality.” “You got here right in time. This couldn't go untreated much longer, ‘Merle Dixon’, Is that your friend with the antibiotics?” Patricia asked, looking after T-dogs arm. “No, ma'am. Merle's no longer with us. Daryl gave us those, his brother.” Glenn responded. “Not sure I'd call him a friend.” T-dog muttered. “He is today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life. You know what Merle was taking it for?” She asked. “The clap. Um, venereal disease. That's what Daryl said.” Glenn nodded “I'd say Merle Dixon's clap was the best thing to ever happen to you.” She lightly joked. “I'm really trying not to think about that.” “Lighten up T.” I smiled softly, patting his shoulder. I left the room, walking towards the front door. “Where are you going?” Glenn stood up. “To get some air, I’m only going to the porch. I promise I’m not going far.” I smiled. He reluctantly sat back down. Taking a seat on the top step, I look out over the fields, closing my eyes, taking in the night air. Hearing gravel against wheels, I open my eyes and look up, seeing headlights making their way to the house.  I run inside and poked my head into the room Rick and Lori was in. “-Rick, Lori, you may want to step out.” The man I assume to be Hershel finishes.  “I’m sorry for interrupting but they’re back.” “You stay here with him.” Hershel told Patricia. I followed Rick and Hershel outside.  Rick and Shane shared a hug.  “Carl?” Shane asked “There's still a chance.” Rick responded. “Otis?” Hershel asked. “No.” Shane shook his head. “We say nothing to Patricia. Not till after. I need her.” We all nodded. Hershel rushed inside with the bags of medical supplies.  I looked over to my brother and hugged him, I left Shane and Rick to talk.  Finding Lori, I sat with her and grabbed her hand, running my thumb across the back of it. “He will pull through…” I nodded. Maggie, Glenn and T-dog has joined the living room, now waiting room. After 15 minutes Rick returns with Shane. Waiting another 15 minutes he stood up. “Is there anywhere I can clean up?” Shane asked. “Ill take you.” Maggie stood up, Shane following. After an hour or so the door opened. “He seems to have stabilised.” Hershel emerged. “Oh god.” Rick breathed. “I don't have words.” Lori said huddling close to her husband. “I don't either. Wish I did. How do I tell Patricia about Otis?” “You go to Carl. I'll go with Hershel.” Rick told Lori. Hershel and Rick left, leaving, Lori, myself and the others. Lori looked over to me. “Go, see your boy.” I smiled. Glenn and T-dog were celebrating. I smiled as they laughed, even joining them before leaving the room.  My head turned and I seen Patricia sitting at the table, where she not long ago treated T-dog.  I could hear the muffled voices of Hershel and Rick, then the gut wrenching sound of desperate sobs throughout the house.  My heart breaking for the woman, the woman whose husband won’t ever return. 

Series Masterlist Next Part

#daryl dixon #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd

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maaaaaatryoshka0325 · 5 years

Text

Shattered Sky - Hwang Hyunjin Zombie Apocalypse AU Part 9

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Warnings: Blood, gore, first half revolves around grief and depression.

The funeral for Kin was both beautiful, and tragic. Everyone showed up. Not one person stayed in their cottage, not one person hid from the reality. The reality in which people died almost to the brink of extinction, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

You had found the most beautiful spot to bury Kin, between the flower beds in the small field that grew in the center. Where Daisy and Belle would roam, so he would never be far from the cow he had cared for since she had gotten here. The cows and goats seemed curious about the hole that had been dug by Hyunjin and Woobin. Deep enough for the ground to swallow him, to take him and make him apart of this earth,

You stood between Woobin and Hoseok, both of them with stone faces and guns in their hands. Felix, Minho, and Jisung held guns in their own, along with a few other men. You heard whispers and looked up, seeing Hyunjin walking through the parted crowed, Kin in his arms, Jeongin walking beside him. Jeongin’s eyes were puffy, tear stains accompanied by fresh tears on his cheeks. Felix swallowed hard as tears pricked his eyes, his lower lip trembling.

Kin’s face and body was cleaned of blood, his skin a pale shade. Hyunjin’s arms held his body tightly, his eyes blank and cold. You heard bells jingling and watched as Daisy and Belle both approached Hyunjin, looking at Kin. Hyunjin stopped in his tracks, allowing Daisy and Belle to get closer. You watched as Daisy sniffed Kin’s hair and face, before letting out a low, sad sounding moo. Belle rested her chin on his chest, and Hyunjin gently lowered him so the two could get closer. You heard bleating and watched as the goats came and sniffed at him too, their lips lightly kissing over his cheeks. Felix let out a small sob watching the animals, and Minho gently pulled his head into the crook of his neck as he cried. Hyunjin gently stroked Daisy’s neck as she nuzzled Kin, an almost sad look on her face.

“I know girl, I know.” Hyunjin whispered.

He lifted himself and Kin back up, and the men lifted their gun to their chests as Hyunjin walked him to the open earth. The men raised their guns and fired at the sky, in honor of their fallen friend. Tears slipped down from your eyes, and this time, you didn’t bother wiping them away as Hyunjin gently laid Kin on the earth, his eyes fixed on Kin, knowing this would be the last time he’d ever see him. He gently stroked his cheek, then kissed his forehead.

“Until we see each other again, my dear little brother.” He whispered.

He allowed everyone to say goodbye, kind words being spoken to Kin’s body. Jeongin walked up and pressed his forehead to Kin’s, his tears wetting his lost friend’s.

“I’ll miss you.” Jeongin whispered.

He stood up and stepped up to Hyunjin, burying his face into Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin held the back of his head, his eyes blank as he cradled Jeongin. You slowly walked over to where Kin lay, before kneeling beside him and pushing his hair out of his face.

“Thank you, Kin. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, kissing his cheek.

You slowly stood up, walking back over to Hoseok and Woobin as everyone else bid their farewells. Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Felix lifted Kin’s body and laid him in the earth before burying him. You watched his body disappear as they shoveled the dirt over him, a small sob leaving your lips as you buried your faced into Hoseok’s back. He reached back and held your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. When he was buried, Yuna stepped foreword. She placed a few lilies over his grave, planting a few more on the sides.

“Lilies mean purity, and I’ve never met anyone as pure as Kin was.” She said softly.

Felix sobbed at her words, leaning his head on Hyunjin’s back as he sobbed. Hyunjin gave her a small bow before she stepped back into the crowd, stepping beside you and rubbing your back. Everyone raised their guns and fired up, making you flinch at the loud bang. Hoseok turned over and pulled you into his arms, his face in your hair. You clung to him tightly, your heart hurting as he and Yuna comforted you. Kin didn’t deserve this, he deserved to be here, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself.

Trying to move on from death was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. You were hardly recovered from losing Ari, and now Kin, your dear, sweet little friend, was gone. You didn’t know how to help yourself. You didn't want to eat, you didn’t want to talk or see anyone, you just wanted to sleep. Hoseok and Yuna have been checking in on you, but both are at a loss of what to say at this point.

Why was the world so cruel to all of the good people? Why was it ripping all the good from itself? You didn't know what to think, didn't know what to feel. Your eyes felt heavy, felt tired. You had dark bags under your eyes from the nightmares that wouldn't go away. You kept seeing the image of him reaching for you every time you dreamed, kept seeing the terrible wound. The sound of his voice calling for you rang in your ears, no matter how hard you tried to cover them.

You heard the door to your cottage open and footsteps walking into your room. You looked up and saw Jeongin walking in, his eyes matching yours. Dark circles were around his eyes, and they were blood shot and puffy. He sat on the edge of your bed, his eyes on his hands. Neither of you seemed to know what to say, so you sat up and leaned against his back, your head resting on the back of his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Jeongin.” You whispered.

“For what?” He asked, looking back at you, his large eyes sad.

“I-If I had actually checked when I heard someone in the building the night the medical building was set on fire, it wouldn't of been as damaged as it was. If I had moved or paid attention when the building collapsed, Kin would be-”

“Enough.” He cut you off firmly, shocking you.

He looked back at you, his eyes firm, but not full of hate or blame.

“It isn't your fault, and no one blames you. Not Hyunjin Hyung, not Woobin Hyung or Hoseok Hyung. Not Felix Hyung or Jisung Hyung. Not even Minho Hyung.” He pointed out firmly.

“He’s right.”

You both turned and saw Woobin standing in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest.

“He died a hero kid, don't take that from him.” He said.

You wiped the tears that began to brim in your eyes and buried your face into the back of Jeongin’s shoulder. He sat there and allowed you to compose yourself, Woobin staying in the door way. When you pulled away, Woobin walked over and sat at the end of your bed.

“Listen, I know losing your friend was hard, I really do. But you have to keep moving foreword. Don’t put his sacrifice to waste.” He said.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before nodding, giving the both of them soft smiles.

“Okay.” You finally said.

They were right, you can't put Kin’s sacrifice to waste. You have o push through and fight to survive, fight for the survival of you and your friends. You smiled at Woobin and hugged him.

“Thank you, Woobin. And thank you, Jeongin.” You said.

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Woobin huffed.

You giggled and sat back up before hopping out of bed.

“I could go for some food.” You said.

They both smiled and followed you out of your cottage and into the cool air.

You ate your food quietly with Woobin and Jeongin, listening to conversations from the other table.

“Didn't she lock herself away?”

“Wow, now she’s stuffing her face.”

“She didn't know Kin as long as us, she has no right to act like she can be more sad!”

All of their comments made you feel sick to your stomach, so sick you almost pushed your food away, when someone walked up to your table. You looked up and saw Hyunjin, his dark eyes looking around as everyone fell silent. He set his plate down and sat beside you, poking at his food.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” You said lowly.

“Don’t listen to what they say.” Hyunjin said, taking a bite of his food.

“They’re right though. I didn’t know Kin as long as you guys.” You pointed out.

“It doesn't matter how long you’ve known someone, Y/N. You were close with Kin, most of them just saw him around.” He said, looking at you. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

You fell silent and nodded before taking another bite of your food.

“What happened to the same attitude you had when I first got here about grieving and crying?” You asked with a small laugh.

He gave you a soft smile before continuing to eat, his dark eyes lifting and scanning the room as not another comment came out of anyone’s mouth.

“Should we go hunting again soon?” You asked.

“Are you up for it?” He asked.

“I think I’ve taken enough time off. I’m sorry I was so childish and didn’t think of anyone else because I was blinded by my own grief.” You apologized with a small blush, feeling foolish.

“People handle grief differently.” You heard a voice say.

Hoseok sat down with Yuna, a smile on his face.

“It’s good to have you back.” He said.

You smiled at him as Yuna sat beside you, hugging you tightly. You smiled and pulled away, looking at her baby bump.

“They��re getting so big.” You said with a big smile.

“I know, they’re kicking a lot more too.” She said with a sweet smile.

You smiled and looked down at her belly. You heard voices and saw Minho, Felix, and Jisung appear, sitting at the table with all of you.

“Thank you, all of you, for being there for me. I promise to do better, and to return the favor.” You said.

Everyone smiled at you, Yuna hugging you again and Hoseok squeezing your hand.

You all ate and laughed when a man came bursting into the door, his eyes wide.

“Hyunjin, there’s a commotion at the gate.” He panted.

“What happened?” Hyunjin asked, leaping up.

You got up and followed him over to the man as he met you half way.

“There’s someone there freaking out.” He said.

“Who?” Hyunjin asked.

“He said his name is Seungmin.”

You all ran to the front of the amusement park, you telling Yuna to stay back and eat. When you came up, you saw Seungmin pacing, his shirt torn with blood spatters.

“What happened?” Hyunjin asked suddenly.

Seungmin ran over to Hyunjin, his sweet eyes wide with horror.

“Please help us, someone allowed walkers to invade and they’re slaughtering everyone!” He gasped out.

Hyunjin grabbed his face and leaned his forehead against Seungmin’s, their eyes meeting.

“Calm down, we’ll help.” He said.

He turned to all of you and you all nodded as you ran back to your cottages. You quickly strapped up your arrows, knives, and guns. You ran back out and ran back to the entrance.

“Are you sure you wanna go?” Hoseok asked.

“Of course!” You said confidently.

You all ran to the SUV’s, you getting into the passenger side beside Woobin. Seungmin stayed with Hyunjin, pointing out where to go as Hyunjin flew down the highway. Your heat beat through your chest, your mind racing as you all flew towards the prison.

When it came into sight, you gripped your bow and got ready, Hoseok and Felix ready to run out with you. The SUV came to an abrupt halt behind Hyunjin’s, and you quickly hopped out as soon as Hyunjin did.

Your eyes widened when you realized just how many walkers were around, and how many were freshly bitten. You quickly raised your bow and got one in the head, turning and shooting a few more. Hoseok leaped by you and slammed his sword straight into ones head. Woobin slammed a tomahawk into another skull, ripping it out and doing the same with another.

“Chan Hyung!” You heard Hyunjin call, and turned to see Chan rushing towards you call, Changbin at his side.

“You came.” Chan breathed.

“Of course we did! Are you bit?” Minho asked.

Both men shook their heads, their chests heaving in exhaustion.

“Where’s Woojin Hyung?” Jisung asked, worry in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen him.” Changbin rasped.

“C’mon, we’ll look. Jisung, Felix, get as many survivors as you can and bring them to the trucks. Let’s cleanse this place and find Woojin.” Hyunjin said.

You all nodded as you all split up, you with Hoseok and Woobin. The three of you ran upstairs, Woobin in the lead, you in the middle, Hoseok behind you. You pulled your bow back and shot as many as you could, and you soon realized you were low on arrows. You hated using guns the loud bangs making you anxious. You were grabbing for one of your knives when a huge weight hit you and sent you flying into the ground, landing with a hard thud. Your eyes widened as a walker snapped at your face, his teeth chomping loudly in your face.

You squealed and gripped your knife tightly as you shoved it back a bit, before slamming the knife straight into its eye. You pushed as far as you could until you heard an uncomfortable crunching sound and it dropped. You felt its weight being thrown off of you and Hoseok grabbed your cheeks.

“Shit! Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, his eyes wide.

You puffed and nodded as he helped you up, Woobin grabbing your shoulders.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” You said with a smile, catching your breath.

He sighed in relief and pulled you behind him, Hoseok once again taking the rear. You came across a lab and your heart dropped. Inside was Woojin, struggling with a very large walker. It’s jaws were so close to his face, his teeth grit as he held it away from him. Your feet took you before you could react.

“Y/N!” Hoseok yelled as you jumped onto the walker, jamming a knife into it’s forehead.

It fell back, it’s neck snapping as it’s head exploded off the wall. You looked down at it and quickly stood up, it’s decaying brain in pieces around you.

“Gross.” You cringed, wiping some off your arm.

“Thank you so much.” Woojin panted, giving you a grateful smile.

“No problem, are you okay?” You asked.

He nodded and smiled, wiping blood off of his cheek.

“I’m guessing Seungmin made it to the amusement park?” He asked, relief in his eyes.

“He did! He’s safe now.” You reassured him.

He sighed in relief as you all got ready to head out of the room, when you heard the door to the closet behind you creak open. You went to turn when you felt string arms grab you and you squealed, kicking frantically.

“Y/N!” Hoseok gasped as he and Woobin raised their guns.

You turned your head and saw a crazed looking man looking at you, a smile on his face.

“I wouldn't shoot if I were you.” He taunted, holding you too close to him for them to get an accurate shot.

Your body shook as you noticed his eyes were yellow, indicating he was sick. Though it wasn't walker sick, you knew whatever he had was making him crazy.

“Let her go Ed, she didn't do anything to you.” Woojin said, stepping foreward.

“Nuh huh huh. One step closer and I snap the bitches neck.” He snarled.

He slowly stepped away as Chan and Hyunjin ran into the room, Chan’s eyes wide and narrowed.

“Ed.. You let them in!” He yelled.

“So what if I have? We’re all doomed! All of us!” Ed yelled, making you tremble.

“You’ve done enough sir, just let her go.” Woobin pried.

“You act as if she has much longer to live anyways. The virus will get us all.” Ed said, his voice shaking.

Your eyes went to Hyunjin, and the look he gave you calmed you down. He gave you the same look when he was leading you away from the walkers, then in the abandoned house during the thunderstorm. That look made you relax, feel like it was going to be okay.

“Listen, I know it’s rough, I get it. You lost your wife, and now your two daughters. But we can all get through this, okay?” Chan said, soothing Ed.

Ed slowly let up, tears in his eyes as he looked down.

“They were my babies... Now they’re gone.” He whimpered, his voice cracking.

“I know Ed, but they’d want you to keep going, right?” Chan asked.

Ed fell silent as he looked at all of the men in front of him, his lip trembling.

“Now just let her go, okay? We can help you.” Chan said.

Ed sat there for a moment, his face turning nonchalant.

“It’s too late for me.” He said, jamming a syringe he had in his hand into your neck.

You shrieked in pain as your blood splattered across his arm and down your neck.

“Y/N!” You heard voices yell for you.

A loud bang filled your ears and the arms that was holding you let go and you dropped to the floor, clutching your neck and whimpering. You felt two arms grab you and you made eye contact with Woobin as he turned you over, his hands over the gash on the side of your neck.

“Fuck!” Woobin yelled.

You saw Hoseok drop down beside you, his hand grabbing yours.

“You’re gonna be okay- fuck- we have to get her back!” Hoseok yelled.

Hyunjin’s face was in your view, horror on his face. Woobin took his shirt off and pressed it to your wound before lifting you into his strong arms.

“Cover us!” He instructed.

Everyone stayed in front of you both as you clutched his shirt to your neck, your hands sticky and wet from your own blood. You all burst from the prison when you heard gasps.

“Oh no! Y/N!” Felix gasped, tears in his eyes as he ran over to you guys.

“Get in the truck! We have to get everyone back!” Woobin yelled.

Hyunjin looked at Minho quickly. “You drive.”

Woobin was clutching your hand as your eyes began to drift in and out, your body shaking.

“She lost so much blood.” He gasped.

“It’s gonna be okay, you hear me? You’re gonna be okay.” Hyunjin said, looking down at you, his hand over top of your wound.

Your body convulsed a bit, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m cold.” You whimpered.

“I know darling, I know.” He said gently.

Your whimpers trailed off as your eyes closed, the last thing in your vision is Hyunjin’s shocked face.

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #skz hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin zombie au #hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids angst #straykids #skz #skz imagines #skz zombie au #stray kids zombie au

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

Text

Enough - Thor Odinson

Thor hasn’t been in a good place for a long time. His life had become an endless cycle of pain and loss ever since he lost his father. The god hadn’t the time to process all of his pain properly. It killed you seeing him like this; all you wanted was to help the man you loved.

The Avengers complex felt, it was, deathly silent. With half of everything, everyone, gone, the hallways seemed to echoed with ghastly cries. You were one of the ones left behind to pick up the fragments of hope that Thanos had destroyed with a simple snap of his fingers. Alongside the remaining Avengers, you were frantically trying to figure out how to undo the culling; but without any cosmic guidance, you felt lost.

The only connection you all had to otherworldly forces was Thor. Ever since the battle at Wakanda, the God had been quiet. Even now was you studied him, his jaw was set and his lips in a thin line. He had been sitting alone all day. The only thing you knew he had done was change into clothes local to Earth while his armor was being cleansed of gore.

You swallowed hard as you watched him. Thor’s eyes were glued to the floor, his hand curled into fists. He almost could be meditating, but you knew better than that. You knew Thor better than that. Peace would not come to the son of Odin until Thanos had paid with his life.

“You should talk to him.” You nearly jumped out of your skin as Bruce came up behind you. He looked exhausted, more so than anyone else.

“When was the last time you slept?” Bruce waved his hand at you, dismissing your question. Your brows knitted together in concern but the scientist merely shook his head.

“He’s been through a lot, I think more than….more than anyone right now. He didn’t really talk to me about it. He’ll talk to you though, he-”

“Bruce,” you interrupted, “if I talk to him, do you promise to get some rest? You’ve been working non-stop and we can’t have you sleep-deprived.” His brown eyes held your gaze and he frowned at you for a moment. You raised a brow at him, prompting him to let out a sigh.

“Alright, yeah, alright. Just’ take it easy on him. Okay?”

“Okay,” you responded calmly. Bruce glanced towards Thor through the window one last time before walking away. You watched him go, wondering if part of Bruce blamed himself. It seemed that no one could escape the curse of guilt. Your turned your eyes to Thor and let out a shaky breath. No one.

You walked towards the door and plugged in your access code. With a beep and a hiss, the door slide open, allowing you inside. Even though you knew that Thor had heard you come in, the god didn’t look up. You stood before him, arms crossed on your chest as you studied his defeated form. Your nearly broke as he slowly lifted his gaze to yours.

His eyes, one blue the other a shining, copper color, were full of sadness. You could see where the starting of tears had threatened to spill over but he not allowed them to. The frown on his pink lips was subtle, but nonetheless deep. Circle seemed to be carved under his dull eyes, just as the lines in his face had become more defined.

“Thor…” His name came out softer than you meant it to, hinting at the feelings that lurked beneath the surface. You almost dared to reach out, stroke his hair; but you stopped yourself. Instead, you moved to sit beside him, resting your hand on his shoulder. His head turned, still looking into your face.

“What is it?” His voice was low, rough with disuse when he spoke. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he were awaiting some unknown news.You shook your head and leaned towards him slightly, staring into his eyes.

“Talk to me,” you whispered. Thor’s expression shifted, melting into something you couldn’t read. He turned away, looking towards the floor once more. “Thor, please. You’ve been through so much and you need-”

“I don’t need to talk, Y/N. I need to…” in his anger his eyes met yours for a split moment. His confidence faltered the split second his gaze held yours. “I need…”

Tears welled in his eyes, his chin shook gently as whatever he was about to say fell apart in his mouth. Thor’s broad shoulders shuddered suddenly and he stood up quickly, turning his back to you. You watched as the man before you struggled to compose himself. The pain in your chest became unbearable as you stood up to make your way to his side.

You pulled gently at his sleeve, trying to peer up into his face. Thor’s reddened eyes met yours and you felt your own tears start to well in your eyes. The man you had fallen for so long ago; the strongest man you had ever known, was now falling apart before you. Tugging on his arm, you pulled him close and wrapped your arms around him.

“Thor,” you whispered against his chest, “just let it all out.” As you spoke, you felt his strong arms hold you tighter, the pressure within him gathering like a storm. You could almost feel the prickling electricity under his skin.

“Everything...almost everyone I cared about, everyone that I love….they’re gone, Y/N.” You felt wet droplets fall in your hair and a shake ebb through Thor’s body. “I don’t think I’m meant to love….they all suffer because of me.”

Part of you want to hide. You weren’t included in the list of people that Thor had lost, the same list of the people he loved. However the best side of you ached for another reason. Thor was hurting, you could understand that and you wanted to take it away. So, instead of hiding, you held Thor tighter and let him cry.

“It’s not because of you,” you said after he fell quiet. “You protect them, you’ve been protecting them the best you can.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Thor mumbled, pressing his face into your hair. You screwed your eyes shut as you heard the pain dripping off of each word. “I’m not enough to save...I wasn’t enough to save them. How will I be enough to save the rest of them?”

You pulled away, staring into Thor’s misty eyes. “You are enough, Thor, you are. This, what has happened now, that was out of anyone’s control. No one was ready or expecting this. You can’t tell yourself those things if no one was enough to stop him.”

“But I could have, Y/N,” his voice broke as his names passed over his lips. “I had the chance, the power and I missed it.” He pulled away from you, walking towards the window that showcased the grey skies of upstate New York. You curled your lips together, trying to figure out what to say; if there was anything to say.You moved to stand beside him, looking up at the side of his face. His eyes were half lidded, as if he were trying to calm himself.

“You still can, Thor. You can change things, make things right. I believe in you,” you squeezed his hand softly then let it go. The touch caused him to turn towards you, his eyes studying your face with an intensity you had only see him wear in battle. His mouth opened slightly and you could feel his breath against your skin.

Your heart began to hammer from within your rib cage when Thor leaned closer. The heat that emanated from his body spread to yours when he reached for your hand. He entangled his fingers with yours but his eyes remained glued to yours. Nervously, you glanced down at your joined hands. His large hands enveloped yours, a sight you didn’t realize you yearned for.

“Thank you,” he said lowly and you moved your gaze to meet his. You offered him a soft smile, something that had been missing for a long while.

“It’s the truth, Thor,” you said. The corner of his lips quirked up for a moment as you held his gaze. It was brief, but it had been there. You imagined that you were the pure cause of that smile; and wished that, one day, he would smile at you like that all the time. As you thought, a sudden wave of guilt washed over you. Now was not the time for such feelings.

“Y/N, I-”

“I have to go, Steve needed me for something and I’m a running late.” Thor’s brows furrowed as you pulled your hand away from his. You leaned up and pressed a light kiss to his bearded cheek. “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

Thor merely nodded sadly and you made your way towards the door. With each step you took, it became more and more apparent to you that, if Thor wanted Thanos dead, the god may not make it out alive. Even with you faith in him, the idea of death was not far off. All of the hero's you were surrounded by were at immense risk. You glanced over your shoulder to savor one last look at him, only to find Thor’s eyes staring back at you.

“You’re enough for me,” you said, giving him another half smile, “you always will be.” Your words seemed to stun the Asgardian into a deep silence for a moment. He took a step towards you and you felt your heart quicken.

“You’re the only one I haven’t lost,” he admitted, his tone serious. You nodded, biting your lower lip slightly.

“You won’t lose me,” you said and then left the room. You could feel Thor’s eyes following you as you left and the mere thought of his eyes on you caused your smile to deepen. In your our ways, you and Thor had told each other your truths. It was a little spark of hope in the midst of all this darkness.

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notwhelmedyet · 4 years

Text

Younger

I will edit this later! I will post this properly on ao3! I will (probably) write a part 2. But in the meantime, before I go to bed: CYWHIRL WEEK DAY 1: THERE ARE NO PROMPTS BECAUSE I INVENTED CYWHIRL WEEK MYSELF, RIGHT NOW

Title: Younger, Part 1 Relationships: Cywhirlgate, Cywhirl Summary: Whirl decides it would be easier to go back in time and witness Cyclonus’s past than get him to spill his secrets. Warnings: Violence, Feelings

“You can’t just say that and then not explain!”

Cyclonus smiled, glancing over at Whirl with mischief sparkling in his optics. Of course he could not explain. This was the mech who had once promised Whirl that “Nobody is telling anyone anything, ever.” He was the grandmaster of not telling people things.

“Why did you even say anything, then?” Whirl groaned. He crowded into the windowseat beside Cyclonus and caught his chin with one claw so Cyclonus couldn’t coyly look away. “You’d tell Tailgate if he asked.”

“Tailgate would never,” Cyclonus said. “He’s from a time back when people had manners.”

“I would never!” Tailgate agreed. The fucking traitor. “Cyclonus doesn’t like talking about his past. Except for the songs. He loves talking about the songs.”

“And the arts,” Cyclonus put in.

“Oh yes! And the architecture! All the good things in life,” Tailgate said happily, climbing in between them on the windowseat, treating Cyclonus’s chest like a pillow. He batted at Whirl’s claw until Whirl released their conjunx and settled down between them and the hot glass of the windowpane.

Cyclonus hummed thoughtfully. “It’s better to remember the good things.”

“Yes, yes, I agree and all but blue?”

“I wasn’t aware it was a scandalous color,” Cyclonus remarked, with a straight face because he was a bastard who lived to torment the curious bots of the world and Whirl in particular.

“You huffed disapprovingly when I mentioned people swapping out their faceplates the other day. You have a legit scar on your leg, like a prehistoric urchin who’s never heard of a medic. And it’s not like you got a paint job - I’ve seen you with your arm torn off, you’re purple down to your base plating. Come ooooon, Cyclonus. I’m curious. It’s in my nature.”

“I think it’s better this way,” Tailgate said. “It’d look funny if we were a matched set. People would tease us. Just think of what Brainstorm would say - just awful! Plus, you’re so handsome in purple,” he said into Cyclonus’s chest, because his tiny frame belied what a massive flatterer he was.

“Do you really want to know?” Cyclonus asked.

“Yes.”

“Galvatron had me changed when I became his Warrior Second,” Cyclonus said, face suddenly serious. And aw, fuck it. Those were the magic words that unlocked the secret palace of ‘Whirl never getting to know anything about Cyclonus’s past’. Whirl didn’t even understand what a Warrior Second fucking was, though Rewind and Nautica both promised him it was a translate for ‘bodyguard’ or ‘retainer’ in ancient texts. Not that he’d asked. Whirl would never snoop in Cyclonus’s secret palace of secrets.

“You know, sometimes I think it would be easier to ask Brainstorm to make me a time machine and check for myself than to get you to explain anything about where you come from,” Whirl said.

“That would be a terrible idea,” Cyclonus said.

“Does that mean you’ll explain?” Whirl asked.

“No.” Cyclonus leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Whirl’s face. “I love you, but no.”

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

“Brainstorm, if I asked nicely, would you make me a time machine?” Whirl asked. “Cyclonus refuses to tell me anything about his days before he was old and mysterious.”

Brainstorm raised his hand in a ‘please do not continue’ motion. “You really think it’s easier for me to build you a time machine than you to talk to your conjunx?”

“For sure.”

Brainstorm looked over at Perceptor, focused on his data analysis on the other side of the lab, then looked back at Whirl. “Yeah okay. But we’re not making more alternate timelines. Once was enough. Gonna need some sort of temporal lock so anything you splinter off vaporizes after the jump...hey, Percy! Want to go over some purely theoretical time machine plans?”

Perceptor looked at Whirl, then looked at Brainstorm, then back at Whirl. “You do know I can hear you, right? Even when you’re not talking to me?”

“Well Primus-damn-it you should have mentioned having a superpower at some point before now, Percy,” Brainstorm said. He scooted back on his lab stool until they were sitting side by side. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And you get to safety check me so we don’t kill everyone or destroy the universe!”

“And if that isn’t the definition of fun, what is,” Perceptor said dryly. He shook his head. “It’d be nearly impossible for Whirl to go unnoticed in the past; you’d need to build him an attention deflector suit like Ravage used or he’d get himself killed by an angry mob.”

“And by ‘you’ you mean ‘we’,” Brainstorm agreed. “Come back next week, buddy, we’ll get right on it!”

“I was actually not agreeing,” Perceptor pointed out, with the air of a mech was used to losing a lot of stupid arguments.

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

Brainstorm had promised the case would take him to an “emotionally resonant moment”, no guarantees which one. Whirl had turned the dial almost all the way to the red, which Brainstorm had helpfully labeled “Long Time Ago”. He hadn’t been sure what to expect. Mostly he’d been expecting the thing to explode and Brainstorm to pop out of the woodwork to give him a PSA on why you shouldn’t ask your friends to make you time machines. He hadn’t expected a war.

He ducked under a sword swing and staggered back, shocked by the sheer noise of it. It looked like Brainstorm’s attention deflector whatsit was working, nobody was swinging at him on purpose. Still, he didn’t want to be accidentally killed either. He transformed and took off, spotting a nearby outcrop of rock where he could spectate.

From that vantage point he could see it wasn’t a war at all. It was the end of a losing battle. There was an army, arrayed in ranks of purple and gold across the field. And then there were the last survivors of some local militia bunched at the center of the mass. Their shieldwall was three bots deep and domed like a forcebubble but it was slowly being crushed between the mass of the army surrounding it. The mechs who hadn’t made it to the retreat to the shieldwall were outnumbered ten to one, poorly armed, and dying quickly.

And Cyclonus was down there somewhere.

It went on for longer than it had any right to. Whirl alternated between pacing and muttering “Just fucking surrender!” at the losing side. He didn’t like routs unless he was on the winning side.

A jet swooped down towards the field and the army pulled back to clear a space for him as he landed and transformed. Finally someone he recognized! And wherever Galvatron was, Cyclonus was sure to be nearby.

Galvatron signaled to his troops - because they were definitely his troops and the fighting stopped. “Defenders of the lower temples!” Galvatron bellowed. His voice seemed to shake the very rocks of the valley. “There will be no victory for you here today! If any of your leaders yet live, let them come forth and bargain for your lives.”

The shieldwall rippled, then broke. They dug their shields into the dirt in front of them, sheathed their swords and brought their lances to rest behind their shields. Two mechs stepped out from the front line. One was tall and slender, with white finials and absurdly pointy shoulders. The other was Cyclonus.

Oh, he looked different, but it was unmistakably him. His frame was a lush velvet blue, except for his arms smeared purple with gore. His bearing was proud, rigid, unforgettable.

Galvatron turned to the white mech. “Your name, soldier.” Whirl had to adjust up the gain on his audials to hear him, the near-silent movements of the crowd increasing like the roar of a river.

“Montalon.”

“I give you a choice, Montalon. Promise me your loyalty. Swear to me your spark and prove your use. If you do this I will spare your soldiers.”

The white mech ground their spear into the ground and answered in defiance. “My only loyalty is to the Lower Temples!”

The point of their spear clattered to the ground as Galvatron struck it down with his axe. Whirl glanced away before the beheading but he couldn’t mistake the sound. When he looked back Galvatron had shifted to point his axe at Cyclonus.

“And you. Is your loyalty also only to the lower temples? You cannot save them. You can still save your soldiers.”

Cyclonus stood silent for one awful moment. He looked to the head of his fellow commander, greying in the dirt at his feet. “Tell me the price, Lord Galvatron, and I will meet it.”

A great wailing rose up from the defeated soldiers behind him. Cyclonus hunched his shoulders, but did not turn to look. One of the soldiers tried to break away, a jet in black and gold, before being hauled back by his fellows.

“Peace, soldiers of the lower temples!” Galvatron called. His soldiers moved to circle them, weapons braced and shields raised. “I offer you mercy, for his sacrifice. Do not waste it.”

Whirl couldn’t tear his optic away from the black and gold jet, held up by three mechs and sobbing in their arms, all military composure gone.

Cyclonus stood like a statue, like an icon of an old god cast upon a plinth. But when Galvatron asked his name he answered in a voice ravaged by grief. First love, perhaps.

“I offer you the same bargain. Become my Warrior Secondus. Prove your worth and then swear to your spark to me, in fealty until death. If you do this I will offer your soldiers mercy, Cyclonus of Upper Tetrahex.”

“Who will I face, and when?” Cyclonus asked.

“You will face me. Now.” Galvatron said, voice warm with mirth.

If he hadn’t been looking so closely Whirl would have missed Cyclonus flinch. “Very well, Lord Galvatron,” Cyclonus said the name like a snake spitting venom. “Arms?”

Galvaton waved dismissively at Cyclonus. “Keep both swords. If you can cut me, the battle ends.”

“Understood.” Cyclonus said.

“Back three paces!” Galvatron bellowed. He raised his axe and dropped the pommel against the ground three times, the ranked soldiers retreating in an answering stomp-stomp-stomp. A matched set of guards with tall shields pushed their way to the front, forming a circle to mark the battlefield.

Galvatron hefted his axe and said, “Draw your weapon and attack, Cyclonus of Tetrahex. May you not disappoint me.”

Cyclonus stepped back, then back again, dropping his hands to the sword on his left. Then he was off, springboarding off a shield to swing his sword at the back of Galvatron’s neck. Galvatron moved the haft of his axe to block the cut and the blade rang out, shattering.

Whirl had taken Galvatron’s challenge to be a duel to first cut. He realized his mistake on the first swing of Gavatron’s axe, which caught Cyclonus across the shoulders as he landed. Cyclonus staggered away, broken sword in hand and pink streaming down his back like a cloak. The fight did not end.

It wasn’t that Cyclonus was a poor fighter, though Whirl expected he’d already been beyond exhaustion when the duel started. It was that the blades he was using were fucking useless. Cyclonus landed a stroke across Galvatron’s braced forearms and didn’t make a scratch, though the blade squealed in protest.

“A smart swordfighter never lets his blades grow dull,” Galvatron commented, as he rammed the pommel of his axe against Cyclonus’s helm, knocking him to the ground. Galvatron strode forward and raised his axe to make the final, fatal blow. Cyclonus lay there, releasing both his swords to sink his fingers into the dirt. He looked up at Galvatron and made no plea to stop.

The axe swung down and Cyclonus finally lurched into motion. His legs kicked out, throwing his body onto his side and knocking Galavtron off his feet. The axe buried itself in Cyclonus’s shoulder but his other arm was snapping up to grab Galvatron by the neck and drag him down onto his own axe.

The crowd couldn’t have been quieter if you knocked them all dead.

Galvatron’s knees hit the ground and he wrenched himself upright, revealing a cut half the length of his chest, gushing pink. Galvatron touched his hand to the cut and then took hold of the axe handle. Cyclonus’s left arm lay limp on the ground, the shoulder nearly severed. When Galvatron tore the axe free Cyclonus made his first noise of the fight, a ragged moan.

Whirl had seen corpses in better shape.

But slowly, oh so slowly, Cyclonus raised himself to his knees. Galvatron passed his axe off to some other soldier and took Cyclonus by the chin. “You may prove useful after all, Cyclonus of Upper Tetrahex. Now swear yourself to me.”

#my fics #ficlets #cywhirl #cyclonus

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musicnoots · 5 years

Text

Stay

Bill Guarnere/Reader

Synopsis: Turns out you aren’t the only one having difficulty sleeping when Bill shows up with the same issue.

Tags: @gottapenny @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123 @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew

You slept. Peacefully and soundly, a small snore escaping your slightly parted lips as you lay on your side. Small gusts of wind from the ajar window running between the blanket and your body making you pull the covers even closer.

You were asleep. That was until you suddenly woke up, heaving and sweating through the chilly night in Holland. You were a mess, tearing rolling down your face because you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Imagining how he died as you read that letter, realizing that he isn’t in this world anymore. Was he shot in the head? Grenade? Shrapnel? Machine-gunned? God, no. You hope it’s not that. You can’t take the imagine of him lying lifeless on some island, bullets riddling his body.

Small whimpers escape your lips when you let your imagination get the best of you, your heart wanting to get rid of all the blood and gore from your mind. You want to feel pure and clean as fresh linen sheets, but you’re stuck in this dirty world known as war and you can’t escape no matter how bad you want to. You knew what you were getting into. You want to think of the happy memories with him, your brother, but you can only think of the ways he could have died. The image of him lying lifeless on the ground, his last thoughts being that of—

“Y/N.”

You snap out of your trance and look over to the door, seeing none other than Bill Guarnere. Wild Bill. Your favorite boy from Philly.

He welcomes himself into your room, hair tousled and messy, and his eyes begging for sleep. “Can’t sleep either?”

You shake your head. “What time is it?”

“Two a.m. or somethin’ like that. You okay?” He notices your shiny cheeks from the dried tears, and you immediately touch them, realizing how much you actually cried.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m okay. What about you? Why can’t you sleep?”

“Can’t stop thinking about somethin’ I don’t wanna think about.” It’s his brother. He remembers when he found out—reading Johnny’s letter when he accidentally got it. The pang of shock of hurt running through his body was a familiar feeling tonight, he felt it the moment he woke up in cold sweat. He wanted to dream of nice women from Philly, not his dead brother.

Bill Guarnere is one of the most trustworthy men you’ve met in Easy. While his wild persona doesn’t radiate it, you’ve found comfort in him back in Toccoa. The first time was when you got a Dear John letter from your ex-boyfriend who left you for your neighbor. Bill saw you leave the mess hall in tears and ran over to tell you that your ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve someone as pretty as you. The second time was in Aldbourne where Sobel told you that you were going to be the first person to die in the jump because you were a woman. Bill reassured you that you weren’t going to die at all because you were one of the strongest people he’s ever met. The third time was right before the jump when he learned that his brother had died in Italy. You were the only person he’s told.

“Is it your brother?” you ask quietly, almost a whisper, not wanting to invoke a reaction from mentioning his brother.

He nodded sadly. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to,” you say, your eyes looking at him in comfort. Bill was always a tough guy in front of the men, but you were the only person to know his softer side. You were never judgemental about it, just supportive and he was grateful to have that.

Bill walked closer to the side of the bed and looked back up at you. “Can I?”

“Yeah.” You scoot over and open the blankets to a spot next to you, and Bill freezes.

“Oh, I was thinkin’ about sitting on the edge of the—“

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t—“

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your answer because he takes the blanket from your failing arms and climbs in. His face is close to yours now, closer than he’s ever been to you physically. He is so close that you could just kiss him. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know it’s been a couple months now, and I should be over it, but I had a dream about him.”

“Was it good or bad?”

“I...I don’t know,” he sighs. “We were back in Philly, my brother and I. We were home. We were racin’ to the ice cream parlor down the street while my ma was yellin’ at us to slow down. It was hot, too. At some point, he tripped and fell, and when I went to help him up, all of a sudden I was seein’ him lying dead in Monte Cassino.” A pained took over his face, and he immediately hung his head low, not wanting you to see him so hurt. He was Bill Guarnere, he was supposed to be tough and stubborn to the core. “What ‘bout you? What’s on your mind?”

“My brother’s dead.”

Bill’s head shot up and he stared at you like you just announced you were pregnant. “Shit…”

You never talked a lot about your brother to the other guys. The most you’ve ever said was that he was a year older and that he’d enlisted a two days before you did. Bill knew the most about your brother, but he never pressed for more information. He understood your privacy and stood his ground. “I opened the letter from my mom last night. He died not too long ago.”

Silence filled the room once Bill processed the information that had been relayed right in front of him. It turns out that the reason why you and Bill couldn’t sleep weren’t so different. It was the grieving of your dead brothers. Bill’s pain was much more long term and persistent while yours just kicked in with a sharp knife to your chest. He thought no one in Easy would ever feel the pain of losing a sibling while serving, but he wasn’t alone.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “I never knew him, but I bet he was a really good person.”

“He was. I just feel bad for my mom because both her babies are—were serving in the war. Now, one of them’s dead and the other’s in Europe.”

“Your brother, was he...was he in the army like us?” he whispers, wondering if he died in Europe somewhere, possibly closer than he thought.

You shook your head. “No, he enlisted for the marines. He was sent to the Pacific.”

“Shit—sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s okay, Bill.”

Bill didn’t have a lot to say, just like how you were when he told his brother was dead. He didn’t want to invoke an irrational reaction from mentioning your dead brother, but he also wanted to know. You were a phenomenal soldier and an exquisite person, he imagined your brother was the same. Whenever you talked about him to Bill, your eyes would light up and sparkle as if you were under the streetlights back home. Your lips would curl into a smile and Bill’s heart would melt from seeing you so happy.

He sighed, shifting to lay on his side, not knowing that you would be facing the same way. “Did you dream about him?”

“Yeah...I kept dreaming about how he died ‘cause I have no idea how he did. I keep seeing him lying dead on the ground of some island in the Pacific over and over again. Bullets all over the place and his body in a puddle of his blood.”

“Looks like we aren’t that different after all.”

“Seems so.”

An uncomfortable silence passes by, something you’re not used to with Bill. Usually, you two are talking for hours on end, yet, you both are silent. Bill clears his throat to speak, and you look up. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Are you scared?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Scared of what?”

“The war. Dying in the war,” he says. “‘Cause I am. I know it looks like I’m not scared of shit, but I’m scared of dyin’ and never seeing any of this ever again. Like, one day is going to be my last and I won’t know.”

“Yeah,” you say, finally overcoming the panic you woke up with minutes earlier, “I’m scared. After I read that letter, I always wonder if I’m next. Y’know, my brother’s dead, and I might be next for all I know. I won’t even get to go home and see my family again.”

“It’s scary. Scary shit. And I’m not even supposed to be scared of anythin’, but I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared, ever since I found out.” Bill doesn’t have a problem admitting that to you because he knows that you’re understanding. He has no idea how he came across such a great person, but there’s nothing he’d trade you for. He can be as real as he wants with you, and you’d still treat him the same as everyone else. “I ain’t scared of being shot at all, Krauts can shoot at me all they want, but I just don’t want to die. Y’know what I mean?”

“I do, Bill. I don’t want to die, either. I don’t think anybody does. I guess, after reading that letter, I’m more conscious of where I am now. I just want to come home after all of this is over. I don’t wanna be buried in a foreign country.”

“I wanna go home, too.”

“What do you think they’re doin’ back home?”

He shrugs. “Ma’s probably makin’ dinner while listening to one of my sisters talk about this guy she’s been seein’, and I don’t like him one bit. My brothers are probably yappin’ ‘bout the Phillies and shit and then my Ma would yell at them to shut up ‘cause she can’t hear my sister’s story.”

“I miss my mom.”

“Me too. Y’know she made me go back and finish high school?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Even after I got a job makin’ railroad locomotives, she still made me go back and finish. Like, what was the point of that? I had six months! I know she wanted—“

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, “maybe we should go to sleep. It’s getting really late, and I’d hate to be dead tired tomorrow.”

“Okay, fine.” Bill was actually enjoying the small conversation you had going—it was much better than tossing and turning in his bed, waiting for slumber to take over his world. He was about to slip out of the covers and leave back to his own bed, but he stopped and paused for a brief moment. “Y/N, do you mind if I?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “If you what?”

“God damn, you’re really makin’ me say it—” he sighed, “do you mind if I stay here with you? Just for tonight, though. I just don’t feel like goin’ back and—”

“Yeah, ‘course you can.” You smiled and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, looking over at Bill who looked uncomfortable facing the ceiling. “Bill? Do you mind if I....if you could just...hold me?”

He looked at you as if you said the most complex word in the world, as if you said that you loved him, and as if you said that you were going home. Bill had nothing against you and holding you, but he’d never come across such a request from you.

“Yeah. Get ova’ here.”

You scooted forward and snuggled into Bill’s chest. Your head fits perfectly under his chin, his hands rests on the cup of your back, the other on your hip while your cheeks is smushed up against his chest. You can hear Bill’s heartbeat, something that didn’t seem intimate in the book that definitely felt like you were back in high school with your first ever crush. You never noticed the split second Bill’s body tensed up when you touched him, it felt like he scooped you up with no problem at all, and you wished for it to last forever.

Bill smiled above you. He knew that you didn’t know, that’s why he did it. He doesn’t know when to let you know. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after. Next week? Definitely not tonight.

Tonight was something he may never get to experience again.

“Y’know, you’re the kind of girl my ma wants me to bring home,” he said.

Your lips curl into a small smile. “Really?”

“Yeah, and you’re the kind of girl I want to bring home. Good night, Y/N.”

#band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader

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