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stxrvel · 2 years

Text

a piece of heaven

summary: what if you and Bucky were part of the Guardians of the Galaxy?

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: around 4k i think

warnings: mentions and mourning of a character's death

note: i feel refreshed. i hope you like this! English is not my first language so sorry for any mistake.

You watched through the masses of air at Bucky, a smile expanding on his face followed by a laugh that, over time, became much more constant and that was able to give you a feeling of lightness in your whole body, as if you could fly lost in everything you felt for him.

As if having him there in front of you was a little more than having a piece of heaven.

Your mind wandered, sitting on the ship as you watched the rest of the group hang out in front of a campfire Rocket had lit. You remembered the first time you saw Bucky.

Sitting on a bench under a tree on the planet Xandar, you waited patiently for the rest of the group to show up with the reward for the work you had done. An extremely wealthy man had asked you to track down and return a scepter that some mercenaries had stolen from him. You tracked these people for about five planets until you found what you were looking for. It had cost you quite a bit because the ship Quill had left for you had broken down and you couldn't leave the planet until the repairs were completed, which cost you to fall behind schedule.

Gamora and Drax had gone to make the delivery while you were still waiting for the man to give you the same price they had agreed to despite the delay. After all, it wasn't really your fault that had happened, the man never mentioned exactly what kind of mercenaries you had to deal with.

“Did Gamora say anything about what we're going to do after this?”

You heard Rocket make a sound of denial as he sat down next to you, “But with the amount we agreed on we could take a vacation.”

You let out a laugh, your gaze focused on the crowds, “You? You want a vacation?”

“I'm getting old, kiddo,” Rocket mumbled, and you turned to see him cross his little arms sulkily.

“I am Groot.”

You heard your other companion dip his spoon, and looked up to notice him watching the two of you sitting on the bench. Rocket let out a snort, “Watch your mouth, tree, I'm still older than you.”

“I am Groot,” he replied reluctantly, his gaze drifting to the fountain in front of you.

“Hey!” Rocket uncrossed his arms and turned to look at him, “Being born again made you very rude.”

You smiled at the interaction of your two companions, and a sense of nostalgia inexplicably formed in your chest. You had already spent more than five years working and living with them, though the more time passed, the slower everything felt and reality blurred.

When you ran away from home you knew you were doing the right thing, even if it scared you. Navigating from planet to planet was scary and many times you were on the verge of a fatal fate, but you managed to slip away at the right time. You lived on the run and bounties, learning the way of the mercenaries, until Peter Quill found you in a raid. You were with a group of intergalactic assassins, fairly novice, who were to steal special weaponry. You could say that everything was going well until the Guardians arrived, but the truth was that you didn't know how they, the assassins, had gotten so far.

You fought Peter like you fought anyone else: as if your life depended on it. You had learned to live on the edge and understood that any fight could be your last, but you wouldn't go down without putting up a fair fight. Just as you were about to defeat Peter, Gamora knocked you out, catching you off guard. The next thing you knew, you were on a ship, hundreds of millions of miles away from the last place you had stayed, and surrounded by a bunch of people you didn't know.

You didn't know what the Guardians' real purpose for taking you in had been, all Gamora would say was that you were a girl who had been through too much. Things you didn't deserve, and that it could be different if you went on an adventure with them.

It was hard for you. It was hard to trust that their motives were real, that they weren't waiting for you to fall asleep to kill you. You slept for months with a knife in your hand. Any sound scared you and you were always so alert, that eventually you began to feel exhausted.

Some time after you were taken in, Peter was killed. And for a long period, you thought it was your fault. The emotional exhaustion you were carrying had worked against you and, once you tried to escape even though for months they had done nothing but help and protect you, you were captured by the enemy they were fighting. Peter did his best to rescue you as well as the rest of the group, but his efforts led him to have to give his last breath that night.

It's fair to say you couldn't sleep for days. And presently, the last look he gave you before he died is etched in your memory with fire.

“It was your fault, Drax,” Gamora's voice in the distance snapped you out of your whirlwind of thoughts, “I was already talking him into it,” the woman added between chuckles, looking at the Kylosian as if she wanted to bite his head off.

You watched Gamora walk over to where you were standing with a choleric look on her face. Her footsteps were so loud they could have caused cracks in the ground and she was carrying one of her blades in her hand, which made you one hundred percent sure she had threatened Drax with it before she arrived for whatever it was he had caused.

You waited for the woman to arrive so she could explain to yoy what had happened and why she was so angry, but one fleeting glance at Drax and you seemed to have figured it all out. Or well, more like a glance at who was accompanying Drax.

The Kylosian held in one of his hands a chain that he pulled at the speed he was approaching, the sound of which brought back memories of your past without the Guardians. Behind him, a man with an expression of boredom and deep seriousness was approaching you as well, being drawn in by the chains around his wrists and ankles. The sheer scene caused you to look in utter contempt.

“What the hell is that?” Rocket asked as he stepped off the bench and watched the man who had stopped behind Drax, at a sufficient distance to hear and understand everything you were saying. You watched him roll his eyes before turning his gaze elsewhere, as if anything was more interesting than meeting the people he seemed to be tied to now.

“Gamora, what happened?” you looked at the Zehoberei with a frown, your face denoting that your mind was drawing conclusions you strongly disagreed with.

“The man said he would only have given us the promised amount if we had arrived before the deadline he gave us was up,” Gamora began to explain and Rocket, as he listened to her, kicked one of the waste baskets near the bench mumbling curses at the man, “Since we didn't deliver, he won't give us what we were promised.”

“Damn it,” Rocket exclaimed, a little louder, loud enough to interrupt Gamora.

The aforesaid glanced at Drax, before continuing, “I was just about to convince the man to give us the credits, when Drax,” she mumbled his name, her gaze darkening as she watched him, “got the bright idea to steal one of the jewels that were on display in this man's room, thinking no one would notice.”

You watched the Kylosian maintain a serene expression at Gamora's outburst, as if he wasn't at all sorry for what he did.

“Luckily I got him to let us out alive. Still, the man decided to gift us something for returning the scepter to him, which was one of the most precious things he had.”

“And he gave us as a gift... A person?” Rocket exclaimed, “What the hell do we want a person for? What good is it even for?”

“He said he was one of the most feared people on his home planet,” Drax spoke for the first time and Rocket turned to stare at him, as if he had said the stupidest thing in his life. But soon his face changed, a gleam in his eye appeared and you just knew he'd come up with something you wouldn't agree with.

“Let's dismember him and turn him into a...!”

“No,” you reneged raising your voice and the raccoon cursed in frustration.

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” your gaze fell on Gamora, who seemed to have slowed her fury to speak to you, “I know you detest everything about this,” she pointed at the man and his chains, preferring not to say anything that might trigger an uncomfortable situation for you, “but it was either accept it or live with the consequences of what this idiot did. Or rather, not live.”

You nodded in Gamora's direction, your mind already drifting to memories you'd rather not bring to the surface at that moment. You turned your gaze to watch the man, who was still watching the people passing by on the bridge you were on. You gave him a quick appraisal and couldn't notice anything that was unfamiliar to you besides his clothing.

“You're from Earth,” you made the clarification. You were sure, but you wanted to hear it from the man. Since Peter, you hadn't met anyone else who came from the same planet as you. But the man didn't respond, didn't even make any movement to indicate he was listening to you.

At this, Drax pulled on the chains that held him captive, causing the unknown man to turn to look at him with a murderous look. You didn't know if that rich man was right in saying that he was one of the most feared people on Earth, but he was definitely an intimidating person.

“You were asked a question,” Drax said, his most fearless voice making an appearance.

“It wasn't a question, Drax. And put that down already, please.”

You took the chains Drax was holding in your hands and threw them to the ground. Then, you pulled a portable melter out of your pocket to remove the man's hold on his wrists and ankles.

When you looked back at him, he was already looking at you with the most wary and cautious expression you had ever seen in your life. It was as if he was waiting for one of you to jump on him to hurt him. It reminded you of your early days with the Guardians and, for some reason, Peter popped into your mind.

“We're not going to hurt you,” you said to the man, who didn't even flinch even though you had moved away from him to respect his space.

“Unless-”

“I said no,” you interrupted Rocket, and heard him let out a snort before turning back to the bench. Drax and Gamora were still by your side, “You can leave, if that's what you want. We're not going to use you as a slave.”

Gamora watched you, a gleam in her eye as she recognized a part of Peter in you. As much as you always denied it, she knew that the man had been an important part of your life and your growing up, as had she and the others. Well, not so much Drax and Rocket probably. But she took pride in knowing that you had kept the best of him.

The man was still unresponsive, his hands clasped at his sides and his body tense. As you were about to turn and leave with the others, Gamora spoke, “Or you could come with us.”

Your gaze shifted to hers, but she was focused on the man who turned to look at her as if he had sprouted another head.

“I understand that you don't trust us, but we're not the kind of people who torture or kill people for fun.”

You heard Rocker let out a growl followed by a, "speak for yourself." You rolled your eyes and turned in time to see Groot hit the raccoon with one of his branches.

“Hey!”

“I am Groot.”

“Argh. Sentimental tree.”

“We'll be in hangar five until dark,” Gamora spoke again, “We'll get supplements, fuel, and in the evening we'll leave.”

Gamora approached him, and you watched him almost go into attack position, but he allowed her to put a hand on his shoulder. He remained in a ready stance even as she moved away, and then rested his gaze on yours.

“In case you want to join us,” you added to what Gamora said, as you listened to your companions move in the direction of the hangars, “But if you decide to stay...”

You threw in his direction something small that you had taken out of your small bag. The man caught it in mid-air, his gaze frizzled, almost frightened, he examined what you had given him until his expression became confused. An antique music player, just like the one Peter had left you some time ago. This was a spare, the one you normally used because you didn't want the other one damaged or lost; it was too valuable.

You looked at his face again, he was still confused, but there was something different there. You knew what it felt like to have something to remind you of all the good things you had lost. Your time on Earth wasn't the best, there were too many things you hated to remember and others you'd rather forget, but there were also things that brought back good memories. Like the music reminded you of breakfasts in coffee shops, the sun against the window and a good vibe that kept you sane for the rest of the day. It was like holding a piece of heaven in your hands, that's what the man in front of you looked like.

He looked at you, not a word came out of his mouth, but you understood he was grateful. Wary, but you had touched a delicate fiber in him.

So you smiled at him with your hands in your pockets, and turned around to catch up with the rest of the group.

His gaze lingered on your figure until you disappeared into the crowd.

That same night, it was the second time you saw him and, from that moment on, you never lost sight of him again. Also that night, as you traveled, he shared a little of himself with the group.

By a little bit you meant his name.

Bucky Barnes.

Since you didn't get the credits you were hoping for, you embarked on a new mission to try to get more than a little bit of nothing.

You soon discovered that the missions with Bucky were much easier to cope with than you had thought. You knew that Gamora was initially worried that he might decide to leave one day with his merchandise or that they might not have harmony when deploying in the field, but all of her concerns were dismissed from the first mission. The group and Bucky hit it off almost automatically, and the man even contributed some ideas that turned out to be instrumental in their mission victory.

“It's going to take him a while to open up to us,” you remembered Gamora once telling you, “He reminds me of you to some extent.”

You smiled unconsciously, your gaze settling on Bucky, who stood a distance away from where you stood with the player you gave him in his hands. He had the headphones on and you were amused at how he was frowning and how small the device looked in his hands. He seemed to accept it, but at the same time he was still in denial.

“I don't blame him. I can't imagine what things he had to have gone through to get to where they found him.”

Every time you opened your eyes in the morning, you felt time passing faster and faster. Ever since Peter died, you stopped counting the time passing just because you didn't want to reach the day when it would be a year since his death. Or two, or three...

But Gamora did just the opposite.

When it was one year since Peter's death, it had been four months since Bucky had joined the group.

You remembered that, during that week, Gamora was a little quieter than usual and suspicious in her attitudes. It was even stranger when she said they would take a week off before continuing with the bounties. But since you trusted her, you decided not to question her decisions.

It was until you woke up that day, a strange feeling in your body as you stared at the ceiling from your bunk without moving a muscle to get up.

“She won't be mad about that?” You heard Bucky's voice approach. You'd had to get used to hearing it because his bed was right below yours, “I mean, from what you told me she doesn't talk about it since it happened.”

You felt a tingling in your stomach. A nauseous feeling made you want to run out and throw up.

“She probably hates me, yes,” you heard the voice of the person Bucky was talking to, Gamora, “but he was my...”

Her voice stopped abruptly. You heard her sigh deeply before she spoke again, “Trying to forget what happened won't make it get easier over time. It's always harder for people who live in denial.”

Bucky didn't answer her, and then you heard Gamora's footsteps heading for the exit.

The ship was not moving. There was no sound you could identify as the engine or thrusters. They had landed somewhere, and you weren't sure you wanted to know what it was.

“I know you're awake,” Bucky's voice alerted you, “Your breathing gives you away.”

You would be surprised by his words, but you could also clearly hear him breathing. Sound was practically nil inside the ship, and since Gamora had left, any other sound was easily picked up by your ears.

“Good for you,” you replied, your irritated voice slurring the words.

“You don't have to leave if you don't want to, but you shouldn't hold it against Gamora.”

“Sure, I shouldn't,” you said rolling your eyes.

Bucky took a few seconds to respond.

“Is that sarcasm?”

You let out a snort as you decided to get up and sit on the edge of the bunk, your legs dangling and your forearms resting on your thighs. You watched Bucky with a scowl, “What do you think, genius?”

The aforementioned raised his eyebrows along with his hands, an expression of amusement conjugated with one of shock adorned his face. He was almost certain that he had never heard you speak to him like that since he got here. You only directed that tone of voice at Rocket when he purposely antagonized you to piss you off.

“We wake up angry from what I see.”

“Since when did you become such a tease, Bucky?”

Bucky grimaced, lowered his hands and watched you, his expression softening generated an awkwardness in you that alerted you to the possibility of getting into having a conversation you hadn't had with anyone since that happened. Your body jerked slightly in anticipation. You didn't want to have that conversation. Not with him. Not with anyone. Ever.

You heard him sigh, your gaze lost somewhere between his shoes and the floor of the ship. He started walking forward, and you could barely see him sit up in his bed, in the same position you were in.

“I don't miss a lot of things from Earth, you know?” Bucky spoke after a few seconds. You frowned, but didn't interrupt him, “Almost everyone I knew was dead or didn't remember me. At that time I remember just thinking what was the point of being alive. I lived constantly in a war, with memories haunting me every night and the constant fear of going back to who I was before. That was no life for anyone.”

“Steve...” Bucky paused, and you pursed your lips because you knew he almost didn't talk about his friend, “Steve gave me a chance to live again. He gave me a chance to feel like I truly had a purpose. And that scared me. I was too scared to try to live, out of danger, all alone. If he wasn't around, I didn't know if I was going to be able to make it.”

“But I did. I survived, and although it took me a long time to find my purpose, I don't regret the decisions I made. I don't regret the planets I was on. I don't regret taking the opportunity Steve gave me and not just because it was a sacrifice on his part, but because in time I understood what he had understood long before I did: living in fear was holding me back from being who I truly am.”

“And I'd rather remember him, you know? I'd rather celebrate every moment of his existence by remembering him and doing what I do in his name because that's what he deserves. I can't do anything for him now that he's gone, I can't bring back time. All I can do is live this life he gave me and treasure the memories we made together every day of my life.”

You heard your breathing quicken as Bucky finished speaking. You hadn't realized at what point the tears began to make their way down your cheeks, but you were too busy thinking, reflecting, reminiscing, to worry about it. You appreciated Bucky's effort to share such an important piece of his life as that was, and you knew what his goal was in doing so. He wanted to let you know that he understood what you were going through, and the thought just was bigger than you could imagine.

You knew that, like you, the others had also lost their partner, had lost a friend. And there were times when you felt you were acting selfishly, because they had gone through the same thing you had. They had lost too.

But Peter gave his life so that you could continue to live yours, even though for a long time you continued with your bitter attitude when you had already accepted them into your life. You felt that you didn't give him enough, that everything you had done while he was alive wasn't enough to match the sacrifice he made for you.

You didn't deserve him to do that for you.

“I know your head's coming up with a thousand reasons why you should keep thinking you didn't deserve Peter sacrificing himself for you.”

Bucky's voice woke you up, and you looked up to see him standing in front of you again. His arms were crossed over his chest and his expression was serious, he almost looked like he wanted to scold you, but he also looked like he felt a little helpless for not being able to ease the weight on your shoulders.

“And I know it's going to be hard to convince you otherwise. Like Peter really believed you were someone worth sacrificing for.”

Your face contracted and you felt the tears fall down your cheeks again. Those words had pierced your heart and, for some reason, it hurt so much more to think about that than anything else. That Peter thought you were someone worth sacrificing for.

“But it's not impossible, Y/N, because that's the truth. There wasn't someone here who knew you as well as he did. Maybe that you were from the same planet helped a lot in forming that connection.”

You wiped your tears before looking back at Bucky, “I didn't think you were the type to give motivational speeches.”

Bucky shrugged, his lips twisting into a nonchalant grimace, “I started from scratch, remember? I had to leave some bad habits behind.”

“But you lasted a while sleeping with a gun when you started staying on the ship,” you chided him.

“I didn't survive or get that far because I kept trusting that everyone was going to help me. A lot of people tried to kill me, but hey, I never lost the will to keep trying,” a half smile graced his face, one of the few he would show from time to time, usually when he was comfortable or off guard, which was when they had these kinds of conversations, “Resilience. It's something I learned from Steve.”

Finally, you smiled at him. You still felt a lump in your throat and the urge to keep crying hadn't gone away. And you realized that Gamora was right, living in denial would only make everything harder for you. As Bucky said, it wasn't going to be easy, and he was also right that you couldn't live with your back to the man who gave his life for you. The least you could do was celebrate and cherish those memories together, even if you felt them shake and squeeze your heart every time you did.

But you were going to be, because you were not alone.

Bucky felt you back and reached out one of his hands to help you off the bunk.

You were definitely not alone.

Bucky became much more communicative from that day on. He accompanied you in your mourning and you accompanied the other Guardians as you finally began to come to terms with Peter's death.

By the time six months had passed since Bucky's arrival with the group, you felt you knew almost every aspect of his life. Sometimes you'd talk at night when either of you couldn't sleep, or sometimes Bucky would join you in bed when he heard you breathing faster than usual. Sometimes, it was all the product of a bad dream, but other times, it was because of your own thoughts.

“Y/N?” you reminisced in your head about Bucky's voice one night when you'd had a dream of Peter, and you couldn't help but start crying when you woke up. You thought you had been silent, but you must have thought better than to believe you could fool the super soldier, “Y/N, are you okay?”

You didn't answer him. You weren't capable. Your vision was blurring every second with new tears, quickly replacing the ones that had already fallen. Your rapid breathing prevented you from thinking of anything else, like trying to calm down. You could only think about him, about that moment, about what it did to your life. How sometimes you were angry at what he had done and other times it made you so sad that you thought you were never going to get out of it.

Your body moved on automatic then. You stood up, swung your feet off the bed and in one leap landed in front of Bucky. You watched his face. His frown was furrowed and a confused but mostly worried expression was plastered on his face.

“What's wrong?” he spoke again.

He spoke softly, as if trying to be careful with his words. HIis dismay at your state of mind upset you somehow, but it also made you feel different.

As if you no longer had to spend all those nights alone.

You didn't answer him. Again. Instead, your body moved towards him, who could only watch the tears fall down your face without being able to do anything to calm you down. He didn't know if he could approach, or if he should; nor if his words were of any use at that moment.

But it didn't matter, because at that moment you gave him the answer.

Cautiously you lay down beside him, snuggling into his chest and sobbing as if your life depended on it. You felt Bucky tense, still, and it scared you that you stepped over a line just because you didn't want to be alone.

But he slipped his arms around your body and pulled you to him, and you slipped your hands around his neck, clinging to him as if he was the last thing you had left in your life.

“Easy, you're going to be okay,” Bucky whispered close to your ear and you allowed yourself to believe him for a moment.

Clinging to him, every inch of your body close to his, you wondered if this is what it truly felt like to hold a piece of heaven in your hands.

You sighed, your chest moving in time with your breathing as you continued to watch the rest of your friends talking around the campfire. Two years later, you wouldn't have been able to believe before that you would one day be like that, in that place.

It was three years since Peter's death and, as in the previous two years, Gamora had taken them to Earth, sitting by the tree you had planted in his honor and enjoying the day together, talking and reminiscing about the best times you had spent together until nightfall.

The day had already passed and the time was approaching when you had to leave. You had gone ahead, opening the ship and starting the engines while the others began to put away the few things they had taken out so they could leave.

Bucky was the last to finish, the others settling into their positions as he closed the hatch and you waited for him in the corridor.

“You look different,” the man commented as he caught up with you, a half smile on his face.

“I feel different,” you nodded, a big smile expanding on your face as he approached, “Better.”

“You don't know how glad I am to hear that,” his body reached for you, his hands automatically wrapping around your waist and pulling you in to plant a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Move it, lovebirds! We're taking off now,” Rocket's voice reached you, both of you letting out a laugh before breaking away and approaching the rest of the group.

“Well, what should we do next?” Drax vociferated the question that was on everyone's mind. Rocket turned to look at Gamora who had her lips pursed in thought. You smiled.

“Something good?” the woman asked, a smile peeking on her face.

“Or bad?” you spoke this time, smiling broadly and Rocket let out a laugh as he raised the ship, before adding, “A bit of both?”

Drax joined in Rocket's laughter, and you watched them all from your position, one of your hands holding Bucky's who you watched grinning at you before you heard everyone say at the same time:

“Bit of both!”

“I am groot!”

#james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky angst #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel mcu

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sukifans · 4 years

Note

May I request a Zuko x Reader with prompt number 2 from the 50 cliché prompts? I'm desperate for some fluff

SWEATSHIRT // zuko

WC: 1.8k

PROMPT: “your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and i couldn’t help but steal it”

WARNINGS: none

A/N: if you want fluff you came to the right place—tooth rotting fluff is my specialty. the title may or may not be a jacob sartorius reference. yall remember when tik tok was music.ly?

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Living with Sokka certainly had its ups and downs. On the one hand, he always kept things interesting—you never knew what you might come home to find, and he often made you laugh so hard you had tears streaming down your cheeks. He could also MacGyver just about anything that broke in your apartment (usually broken by him, however). You’d only had to call maintenance once, when you’d found him stuck under the kitchen sink, absolutely drenched, and shouting for help as water viciously sprayed from the pipes and the garbage disposal made some sort of ear-splitting shriek.

On the other hand, his mind moved a hundred miles a minute and he often forgot little things, like closing the kitchen cabinets or starting the dishwasher. One such thing he tended to forget was to finish his laundry. Often you’d find his still-wet clothes in the washer or his clean clothes in the dryer, having finished several hours ago. The two of you had worked out a deal: if Sokka did the dinner dishes and bought the snacks for Movie Fridays, you’d make sure the apartment ran smoothly despite his forgetfulness.

That’s how you found yourself dumping a load of his clothes onto his bed after finding them in the dryer while trying to do your own chores. You picked through the shirts and boxer briefs before settling on stealing a deep burgundy sweatshirt—an unspoken part of your deal was that if you found his clothes, you were allowed to steal a t-shirt or sweatshirt of your choosing because he knew you liked to wear the oversized tops on lazy days.

He came back later that night to find you standing in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone while you waited for your tea to steep. Your wet hair hung around your face and you wore the red hoodie with sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his backpack on the ground by the door and kicking off his shoes.

“Hey.” You looked up at him as he bustled around the kitchen, tossing something into the microwave. “How was work?”

“Annoying,” he sighed in irritation, making you grin. He turned to you and frowned, reaching out to tug at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “Where did you find that?”

“I stole it from your laundry, stupid. You left your stuff in the dryer again. I’ve never seen this one before, did you just get it?”

“Uh... yeah. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Mhm.” You slipped your phone into the front pocket and cradled your mug. “Why do you ask? Do you want it back?”

“Nah, it’s okay. In fact, keep it. Red doesn’t suit me, I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it.” He had a smirk on his face that made you very suspicious.

You raised an eyebrow while you slowly sipped your tea. “If you say so, Snoozles.” You flicked his arm as you passed him to retreat into your bedroom for the night. “Don’t forget to pick up your bag. And snacks for Friday night!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded through a mouthful of noodles.

You and your friends were gathered in the living room like every other Friday, this week to watch Jurassic Park (yet another classic that neither Aang nor Zuko had seen, much to everybody’s disbelief). Katara and Aang sat together on the armchair, Zuko sat between you and Sokka on the couch, and Toph sat on the floor with her back against the sofa next to her service dog, Badger. You had your legs thrown across the guys’ laps and all eyes (except Toph’s) in the room were glued to the screen. Well, for the most part—Zuko kept looking over at you all night. You tried to keep your attention on the dinosaurs, but you could feel him staring at you. Eventually you caught his eye and raised your eyebrows expectantly. He simply flushed and looked away. You furrowed your brow and turned back to the movie, pulling your hands inside the sleeves of Sokka’s red sweatshirt and sticking them in the pocket.

“Did you guys know that Spielberg wanted the raptors to be taller for the movie and then a few months after they wrapped shooting, paleontologists found a new species of raptor that actually fit the movie portrayal really well? They almost named it after him,” Sokka said with his mouth full of popcorn.

“That’s nice, Sokka,” Katara responded absently, obviously not listening.

“Yeah, and they made the T. Rex sounds with an alligat—oof!” He wheezed when you jabbed your foot into his stomach. “Asshole!”

“Pack it up, IMDB,” you huffed.

“I just thought it was interes—ouch, Toph!” he yelped when Toph punched his shin.

“Stop talking, I can’t hear anything!”

“Just watch it!”

“I can’t!” Toph barked. Sokka crossed his arms and slumped down, grumbling to himself. You and Zuko glanced over at each other and broke out in grins, pursing your lips to hold back your laughter.

As the movie progressed, you noticed the tension in Zuko’s shoulders. He had his jaw clenched throughout the whole scene with the kids trapped in the car with the T. Rex attacking. You nudged him with your knee and he turned to look at you.

“You scared, Zu?” you teased in a low voice, leaning forward to squeeze his bicep. “You want me to protect you from the dinos?”

He rolled his eyes but still lifted his arm, inviting you sit up and tuck yourself into his side. As you leaned against him he seemed to loosen up, settling into his seat and resting his head against yours. Sokka noticed this and looked around Zuko to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and very conspicuously, making your face heat up in embarrassment. Unfortunately, the idiot had caught wind of your crush on his best friend and had been relentlessly tormenting you about it ever since. You glared at him until he sat back, looking disgustingly smug.

After the movie finished, everyone got up to stretch and refill their drinks before the next one started. While talking with Toph in the kitchen, you noticed Zuko standing outside on the balcony by himself. You excused yourself from the conversation and made your way out to him while all your friends hooted in the background. It seemed everyone knew about your attraction to the boy, except for the boy himself.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping outside. He looked around at you and gave you a small smile that made your head spin. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “just getting some air. It’s getting hot in there with everyone in the room.”

You nodded and stood next to him to lean against the railing. After a few beats of silence, you could feel his stare on you again. You met his gaze curiously. “What’s up, Zu? You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Nothing, it’s just—“ he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as if inspecting you “—is that my sweatshirt?”

You frowned. “No, I took it from Sokka.”

“Lying bastard.” His eyes widened at your offended look when you rounded on him. “Not you! I—um, it is mine. I gave it to Sokka the other day and when I asked for it he insisted he already gave it back to me. The fucker gaslit me over a sweatshirt.”

“Sounds about right,” you giggled. “I’m sorry. I’ll give it back before you leave.”

He pulled at one of the drawstrings. “You can keep it, if you want. It’s, uh—“ he cleared his throat “—it looks better on you.”

You stood facing each other now, barely a breath away from being chest-to-chest. “I can’t take your sweatshirt.”

“You take Sokka’s all the time.”

“Yeah, because he always forgets his laundry in the machine. He owes me.” Zuko laughed a little at that, still fiddling with the string. You could feel your heart racing at his proximity. He sucked in a breath and seemed to brace himself for his next words.

“I kind of like how you look in my clothes, though. Might have to start leaving my stuff around here so you stop wearing Sokka’s.” The confidence in his voice was betrayed by the rising blush on his face that surely rivaled your own as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out. All you could squeak out was a soft, “Zuko,” when he raised his hand to brush a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. You felt frozen, rooted to the spot, when his fingertips grazed your cheekbone. His hand lingered there, palm radiating heat into your already flushed cheeks.

“I—“ he pulled his hand back and chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “—sorry.”

“For what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” You grinned at each other and in that moment it could’ve been just you and Zuko left on the planet and it wouldn’t’ve mattered; everything you wanted and needed was right there in front of you, if you were bold enough to take that final step toward it.

“Zuko—“

“Hey, we—oh!“ Both of you whipped your heads around when the door slid open to reveal Aang standing there. His whole face went red and he laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry! Just wanted to tell you guys we were gonna start the movie, but no rush! Take your time!” He started to back away and you felt yourself release from Zuko’s magnetic pull now that your small bubble had been invaded.

“It’s okay, Aang.” You smiled gently at your friend and started to make your way back inside. “We were about to head in anyways.”

Aang shot Zuko an apologetic look before nodding and hurrying away. Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to be bitter about the ruined moment when you reached out towards him and gazed up at him with those warm, bright eyes. “You coming, Zu?”

“Yeah, right behind you.” He took your outstretched hand and laced your fingers together, squeezing his palm against yours.

Maybe you weren’t the last people on Earth, and maybe you hadn’t taken that leap just yet, but something between you two shifted and finally clicked into place out there on that balcony. Everything would work out just fine—he knew it in the way you kept your fingers slotted perfectly between his as Jaws played on the television, and in the way you quickly rose onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek in the hallway before he left. He couldn’t wipe the dreamy little smile off his face for the rest of the night, even as he laid awake in bed thinking about you.

Yeah; everything would be just fine.

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula

ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii @sher-lockedmarvel @emeraldpotato @september-ctd

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #zuko fic #zuko fluff #zuko #mine #requests #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla x reader #x reader #zuko imagine

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me (Pt. 08 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (07)

Next part (09)->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

Nightmare

It's amazing to know you're excited about the party. Luke is two months old, and since you had a welcome party in-store, you turned it into a birthday party. It'll happen later tonight, by nightfall, and you're enjoying the last moments before you have to leave the bedroom and start organizing things.

After brushing your teeth and hair, you leave the bathroom, smiling to see Daryl still lied in bed. He seems peaceful, eyes closed, so handsome in the morning light. You've been wanting to tell him something, it's been a while... But you never get the right time. Or maybe you're just a little scared...

But looking at him now, it just fades away. You and Daryl have been in a solid relationship, and despite the short time, things have been amazing. Perfect. Carol is even talking about moving out, so you and Daryl can have your own space, but you don't want to push her to it. In the privacy of your bedroom, you're fine. And living with Carol is nice.

“Hey, D.” You say in a soft voice, going to the bed and climbing on top of him. Daryl grunts something, his eyes opening, hands coming to your hips and waist. “Are you awake?”

“I am now that a kitten came to lie down on me.” He mumbles as you move up until your face is at the same level as his. You place your legs around his hips, hands sustaining your weight on each side of his head.

“Sorry.” You mutter, moving to stand up. But Daryl's grip gets tighter, and you let yourself fall, collapsing against his chest, giggling. “Alright, alright. But listen up now...”

“What is it?” He brings a hand to your face, fingers caressing your chin.

“Uhm...” Blushing a little, you clear your throat. “I... I think... No, I do.”

Daryl raises an eyebrow, and you can tell he's trying to figure it out on his own. “Ya wanna break apart?” He bursts out suddenly. “ ‘Cause if that's what ya want, I–”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” You say in a sarcastic tone, rolling your eyes. “I'm literally on top of you, Daryl Dixon. How can you possibly think I want to end things?” Moving to sit up, straddling his hips, you cross your arms. “What do you have in this pretty head of yours? Only hunting skills?”

“Yer very funny.” In a sudden motion, Daryl pulls you down again, switching positions so he's on top of you instead. “What is it then?” He asks, his face way too close.

“Can I kiss you first?”

“Nah. Ya got me curious.”

“Alright...” Taking a deep breath, you gather up some courage to push the words out. “I want a baby.” Shrugging your shoulders, you giggle at Daryl's funny face. “What?”

“Don't ya have one already?”

“Yeah...” Mumbling, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Daryl?”

“Huh?”

“I want another baby.” Smirking, you place a kiss on his lips. He's fast to kiss you back, a hand cupping your cheek. “So. What do you think?” You ask when you pull away.

“How are ya plannin’ to get one?”

You're not sure if his intention was to make you blush, but you're blushing anyway. “Uhm... First I need to get married.”

“Get married? People don't care about these things anymore.” He answers quickly, and you wonder if you went too far. Maybe it's way too early, and these thoughts should be kept inside your heart for a while longer.

“I know but... That's exactly why I care.” Sighing, you avoid his eyes. “I'm sorry, we haven't talked about this and I don't even know if–”

“Hey, calm down.” With his thumb and index finger on your chin, he makes you look at him again. You always appreciates Daryl's touch, it doesn't matter how small it is. It took a while for him to get comfortable enough to do this so easily, and you never take it for granted. He's always gentle as if you're a porcelain doll. He's never rough, never violent, not with you. Loving Daryl happened fast and strong, and it's a feeling that only grows, every passing day. “Ya wanna talk about it we'll talk about it.”

“It's just that... I-I love you. With all my heart and... It does feel like we already have this family thing going on and...” Daryl has fallen into this father role, and he's absolutely amazing with Luke. He can make him fall asleep in minutes, and you love to watch as he rocks the baby to sleep. And those moments always get your mind racing. He's already being such a good father so maybe he'd like a baby of his own... And you'd like to give him that. “...It got me thinking.”

“I love ya too, babygirl. But marriage... It would bound you with me on a whole different level.” Daryl sits up, and you follow his movement, your arms still around his neck, keeping him close. “I wanna make sure ya have the choice ta’ walk away when ya want to.”

“I won't walk away, Dixon. I love you.” He needs to be reassured of that from time to time, but you don't mind. You want to spend the rest of your life making sure Daryl knows he's loved. That he's desired and wanted. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life and if that's what you want too... You know, I'm a girlish girl, I'd like to get married someday, and honestly, if not with you then I won't marry anyone else.” Shrugging your shoulders, you look down, a shiver rolling down your spine, feeling his fingers caressing your bare thigh.

“Ya sure ya want this? With me? Are ya sure about what yer talking about?”

“I am.” You mutter in a low voice, blushing. “I am.” Repeating in a low voice, you kiss him, slowly at first, but soon enough his taste overcomes everything, and you think he feels the same since he deepens the kiss. Pulling him down again, you smile when his hand touches a ticklish spot on your side.

“Hey, you two!” Carol calls, knocking on the door. “Wake up. There's a lot to do today.”

Daryl grunts in response, not pulling away from the kiss.

But Carol is right. It'll be a long day and both you and Daryl have stuff to get ready for the party.

The day passes by quickly since you're helping everyone a little. The only thing you can't do is lift heavy stuff. Daryl forbade it, with Denise backing him up, you have no idea for how long. The party will happen at Rick's house since the living room is the biggest, and you spend hours there decorating everything. You try not to think too much about all the people who will be here tonight. You know them, you befriended them, they won't hurt you.

When it's finally time to go, you're impressed by how you feel. Happy, not scared, and actually excited. You never thought stuff like this would ever happen again. It's silly, but it keeps people sane, said Deanna. The sun is making its way to the horizon when you're getting dressed. You chose to wear a dress Daryl brought you from one of his runs. It's a light shade of blue, with thin straps and a nice cleavage in the back, reaching a few inches below the mid of your thighs. You never wear anything that will show the scar on your leg, you don't like it. Nor what it represents. You're putting on your flats when Daryl comes out of the bathroom, hair still damp, but completely dressed. He's wearing what he usually wears, always dark colors, but you don't mind. You really like it.

“Are you ready?” You ask, turning on your heels to face him. Daryl doesn't answer, eyes locked on you, lingering for so long it makes you blush. “D? Cat got your tongue?”

“Nah, it just...” He looks down at his feet before making his way over you. “Ya look beautiful, that's all.”

“Thanks.” Smiling shyly, you tiptoe to kiss him. “But I'll need a coat for when the night falls... Mind if I get one of yours?”

“Won't ya ever stop stealin’ my clothes?” Daryl fakes an annoyed tone, but it takes two seconds for his lips to break into a smile.

“Well, you stole my heart, Dixon. I'm just looking for revenge.” Winking at him, you search on the wardrobe for one of his jackets. “Now let's get going. Maggie and I baked this brownies and I'm dying for one.” Grabbing the jacket, you take his hand and leave the bedroom.

Carol is already there, so you just have to take little Luke and head out. He wants Daryl this time, so he's the one carrying him to Rick's place. As you walk there, the wind messes with your hair, and you try to keep it from your face.

“Who are the new residents, by the way?” You just remembered them. If the day wasn't so hectic, you'd ask Daryl to introduce you to them, just so you could know their faces before having to meet them at the party.

“Two men. Aaron found them starving to death a hundred miles Northwest. They're alright I guess. Since Deanna allowed them to stay.” Daryl reassures you, his free hand taking yours. “Ya ok?”

“Yeah... I'm excited, actually.” As you climb the few steps to the porch, Luke giggles, you're not sure why. “Right, little one?” Stopping by the front door, you step closer to the baby in Daryl's arm. “Are you excited too? For your party? Two months old already, you're growing up so fast.” You're still baby-talking when the door is opened, a smiley Carl gesturing for you to get in.

“C'mon, let's get ya those brownies,” Daryl says as you step inside.

It takes no time for people to come to talk to Luke, him becoming the center of attention. He throws himself on Maggie's arms, who happily welcomes him.

“(Y/N),” Rick says and you turn on your heels to talk to him. Daryl remains close, and you know why. But you feel fine, comfortable around these people. “Judith said a funny word this morning. I wonder where she learned it.” He has his hands on his hips, and you innocently shrug your shoulders.

“What word?”

“Damn it,” Daryl answers, not a hint of doubt in his voice. Rick nods, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh my gosh. Where could she have heard such a thing?” She learned it from you because that's what you exclaim almost a hundred times a day and that's not really a secret anymore. “I'm sure she said something like ‘dang it’ so I don't see how that's my fault. ‘Dang it’ it's not that bad is it?”

“Well, I think–”

“(Y/N). Daryl.” Deanna calls, and you give Rick a smirk, meaning you're happy to be saved from this conversation. Turning around, you focus on Deanna. “Come, you're the only ones who haven't met Michael and Daniel yet.”

“Ok.” You can't help but feel a little anxious to meet new people, so you grab Daryl's arm as you follow Deanna through the living room.

“Over here.” She gestures, a kind smile on her lips. “This is Daniel, and Michael, they were found–”

Her words fade when both men turn to look at you. Their faces are unmistakable, and you feel yourself sinking, skin burning, head spinning as it all comes back.

Their voices, touches, and threats. You're suddenly back there, in the darkness, starving, freezing, waiting, wishing for death to come before they did. You're in the basement where your screams used to echo. All of your wounds start hurting, pulsing, as if they were reopened, all over again.

You never got the names, but you'll never forget the faces. One of them, the you thought looked like Rick, has a smile on his lips. The same sick, wicked smile, the same he had every time he went to see you, never failing to draw some blood.

“Hi, (Y/N).” He says, in the same tone he used to. Low, dark, more animal than human.

What happens next is a blur. There's yelling, and Daryl suddenly isn't by your side anymore. He's a blur, moving towards both men, drawing punches. You're pulled back by someone, you don't know where, but you know it isn't Daryl. You know his touch by heart, and it's the only touch you want.

“Let go of me!” You yell, pushing whoever that was, sinking, falling backward until you hit a wall. You want to disappear again, to vanish from existence. With both hands covering your ears, you push yourself into the wall, hoping it'll absorb you, hide you.

“Take them. Now.”

“The trial happens tomorrow.”

“Lock those assholes up.”

“Enjoy your last night on Earth.”

The words have no meaning, they just keep echoing. The low chattering, the many footsteps... Why are you still here? Why can't you be strong for once and just run? Run where? If they're here... Where else could you go?

“Babygirl,” his low, calming voice is like a beacon, lighting up the darkness, bringing you back, pulling you into consciousness again. Into life.

Moving just a little, hands off your ears and muscles relaxing, you look at him, immediately running to his arms. “They're here. They're here, they... They found me.”

“Alright, calm down now.” He holds you tight, a hand rubbing your back. “Let's get ya outta here.”

Nodding, you offer no resistance when he picks you up. You keep your eyes closed, face hidden on the crook of his neck as you float away. It feels like the first time, when he was carrying you from the infirmary into what's now your house.

You flinch a little when you're pulled down, suddenly recognizing your bed and curling up, pulling the blankets over your head.

“How is she?”

“I don't know.” Daryl sounds angry, furious. “I'll kill them right now.”

“No, Daryl. The trial will be tomorrow. You know they'll die for what they did”

“I don't care!”

“You need to stay with her now.”

You know it's Carol, but still, you want her to go. You need everyone to go away now, you just need Daryl. You need to... Go away. Alexandria isn't safe anymore. You rather face the dead.

Silently, moved by fear, you get up, taking the dress off, and struggling with the first pair of jeans you find.

“(Y/N),” Daryl calls, but you ignore him, sight blurred by the tears as you put a shirt on. “Hey, (Y/N).” You don't know what to take... You just need to leave. These walls won't keep you safe anymore. If you stay... You know they'll find you again.

“I'm leaving.” You mumble, looking around and finding the white sneakers you left by the edge of the bed and putting them on.

“What–”

“I'm leaving! I can't stay here. If I stay here it'll happen all over again.” You're yelling, sitting on the bed, sobbing. “They're here, they'll take me again, they-they–”

“Shh, yer ok.” Daryl pulls you up, into his arms, and you melt. The sobs are muffled by this jacket, and your tears are certainly soaking the fabric. “Look at me, babygirl. Look at me.” Slowly, you raise your head, his blue eyes acting immediately, like a medicine made only for you. “There's a place I can take ya for the night. But ya need to be here tomorrow. To officialize their crime so I can kill those–”

“Take me away, please.” You beg, holding onto him as if he's the only thing keeping you sane. Alive. Because he is. “Please, if I stay here I'll–”

“Alright, alright.” He nods, a hand caressing your cheek. “Let's go then. C'mon.”

Everything happens in the background, you feel. Carol stays by your side in the porch, guiding you to the car Daryl took to drive you away. You barely feel your body now, out on the street, feeling their eyes on you... Their eyes, evil and disgusting, as they lust over you. You know they're not here, but still, you feel them. Wanting you to cave in, to agree to fulfill their needs in the most vile, degrading ways. You're hyperventilating when the gate opens, the woods before you suddenly looking far safer than these walls.

When Daryl crosses the gate, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, lungs burning. The sun is coming down, so there are a some shadows creeping in... But it's better out here. The wall will keep them inside, you hope.

“Babygirl,” Daryl says, getting your attention. “We're almost there, alright?”

“Ok.” You mumble, and Daryl puts a hand on your knee.

“Nothin’ will hurt ya. Never again. M’ gonna keep that promise.”

Holding his hand, your eyes meet his when he gives you a glance.

Around ten minutes later, Daryl stops the car. You haven't noticed before, but he parked in front of a small, wooden house. It looks like it was some kind of cabin in the woods since there are no other constructions around it. “C'mon.” He says when he opens the passenger door for you. Your legs feel a little weak, but you manage to stand up, immediately looking around. “There's nobody here, I promise ya.”

Nodding, you let him guide you inside, a flashlight on his hand. Daryl unlocks the door, and you wonder why he has the key to this thing. When you step in, the light coming from in between the planks on the windows helps you see the interior. There is a cough and a coffee table, you recognize it despite the dark plastic covering both things. Walking further in, you peak at the kitchen. Everything is clean and has a plastic placed over them. It kinda looks live someone used to live here not too long ago.

“I found this place a while ago.” Daryl starts, placing his backpack on the floor. “Was fixin’ it, cleanin’... So I could bring ya here every once in a while.” He gestures at the whole place in general, and you take another look around. He did say he'd try to find a place he could take you outside Alexandria, but you never thought it would be this good. “Still has a lot to do. Gonna put electricity, runnin’ water will be more complicated but I'll do it.”

“You're doing all that for me?” You whisper, hoping the dim light will hide your blushing cheeks.

“Yeah... Wanted to bring ya here under different circumstances but...” He takes the bag again, gesturing at the hall. “First door to the right it's our bedroom.”

Following his direction, you open the door to a small bedroom with a double bed, also covered with black plastic. The windows have wooden planks on it too, but there's enough space in between them so let some light come in.

“Here, lemme’–” Daryl drops the bag, walking over the bed and removing the plastic. Underneath, the light green sheets seem comfortable and you get it now why everything is covered up. To keep it clean. “Ya can lie down it ya want to. Brought some blankets.” As you move to the bed, Daryl searches in the bag, picking up two blankets and fixing them on the bed. “Ya hungry? Or thirsty? I brought–”

“I just need you, Daryl.” You whisper, drying off some tears that are still rolling down. “Can you come here?”

“Of course, babygirl.” Quickly, he leaves the bag behind and joins you in bed. Daryl pulls you close, you head on his chest as his arms hold you tightly, keeping you safe.

“I hope this is just a nightmare... That I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll all be gone.” Mumbling, you push yourself even closer to him, if that's even possible.

“I'll kill them myself, I swear.” There's a fire in his voice, hate. You've never heard him talking like that, his chest vibrating powerfully. “I'll wipe them off the face of Earth.”

Involuntary, your hand finds its way to your leg, to the scar. The pain is a vivid memory today, and for a moment you feel like you should lie down, as motionless as you can so it won't hurt. So the stitches won't rip again.

How is it possible that all the horrible memories came back all at once? On one second? “I-if I didn't have you, I... I'd die today, I know I would.”

“Nah, ya wouldn't.” Moving, he brings his index finger to your chin, making you look at him. “Yer stronger than ya give yourself credit for. Ya don't see it, but I do.” Then, he places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips, which is sadly, too brief. “But I will protect ya. Always, until my days are over.”

“Daryl, I–”

“I wanna marry ya.” He bursts out, his low voice burning through your head as you wonder if you heard him right. “When this is over and those monsters are dead... I wanna marry ya.”

Despite the terror, creeping through your skin, the darkness threatening to swallow you again, you smile. Everything fades away, and a different kind of happiness washes over you. A type of bliss you didn't even know existed. Unable to control yourself, you climb over him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you,” you mutter, not giving him the chance to answer, connecting your lips on his in a loving, passionate kiss.

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528 @btsiguess-kpop @a-dlv @bibibeauelle @lightning-butterfly @yttricuz

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #imagine daryl dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #imagine the walking dead

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yuvon-writes-letters · 3 years

Note

Hey guys :)

Maybe I'm going chronological for one time, so I can sort my thoughts easier.

Yeah, Goldie's much mire active than I would've thought, too. But they did all those things to keep me alive and kind of save, since we still don't know who they are exactly working against. (I mean, we don't know who Goldie exactly is either, but you get my point)

Honestly, I am pretty sure the TSB timeline is continuing, at least if my theory that Goldie just set me back in an alternate timeline is true. In this case I feel sorry for TSB, though..Extremely sorry. He still was 'my' Jake back then, even though he acted weird in the end (maybe was manipulated by entities). I mean, if what he wrote was true he went with authorities. And in the end..this could've been his downfall.

And yeah, maybe I'm not exactly safe, but I just have to go back. If I go, and if I lose my job, I have some things to sort out. And Jake luckily agreed with me that clearing up my desk isn't the worst thing I can do before leaving. We're still thinking about a location, which I could luckily deside myself. Max agreed on that. Even though he still has some doubts. (I mean, of course...His cousin opened the door with bruises all over her face.) He did promise to not ask any questions until I feel ready, though. That gives myself and Jake some time to figure that out.

And also, Jake is right! We have three Jakes and three smart people. YUVON. And of course Goldie, like you said Yu :) And some information about the previous timeline. (And that was it with being chronological)

So yeah, like I said, Max and I'll go. And I also think we can be pretty certain now that the message came from Goldie not the MWAF (which is relieving). I saw the messages and they didn't make Jake the bad guy. I honestly just don't think I can quote them yet. (They're too good, but I probably start daydreaming if I do) But they talk about Jake being an important part of my life and my heart and Max protecting me when he cannot. My dear cousin jumped to conclusions when he saw my bruised face. About Max' phone...I'll probably throw it in a river or something if he brings it with him. I told him not to, also because of Jake (he's not only worried about the MWAF apparently...He didn't exactly say it out loud, but I think it's pretty obvious) but he loves this device.

And I emphasize with you about the being kidnapped thing, you'll manage it, I know it :) And if I need to jump dimensions and box some sense into your Crow-Crew xD

No but for real, you can do that. I know it :)

Jake, find a good point in time to talk to her. But do it :)

Otherwise, I still think the 'underlying desire' theory is a possibility! But, like always in the moment, we could be wrong.

As for my stasis, I really do not wish to talk to more people who think I've been kidnapped. And I am a bit scared that could somehow lead to either them or me being in more danger again. But for now we have to wait.

I for now will pack some important things and paper & pens xD I don't want to leave y'all behind :P

Liska🐾🔥

[A screenshot is glued to the back of the letter and the quick sentence "Jake wants to talk to Jake" is written above]

Hello Jake, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am not quite sure in which way Liska will handle giving you my message, but she promised me to not read it for now.

I don't know whether she told you before or not, but as far as I am concerned she realised I am not only worried about the MWAF chasing her.

With me breaking out of this stasis I am sure that my followers aren't that far behind. And I know you can't do anything from where you are, but cross checking way to protect her doesn't seem to bad to me. Especially since we are similar but still fairly different from each other. At least it seems like that from what I have read.

For my part, I recently improved and updated Nym-OS which allows me access to Liskas whereabouts. If Yuvon should read this, she knows and agrees to it.

Still I am yet stuck on one little detail: I am trying to help Nym-OS in counterattacking. So, even though I am sure you already knoe this yourself, Nym-OS gets the ability to access location of the people attacking Liskas phone. I am almost done with that, so we are able to see a bit easier if and where people are that could be a danger.

Do you have any other ideas for ways I could help? Or even improve what I am doing momentarily. I wouldn't normally ask this since I know and trust my skills, but I think that this is fairly different from a 'normal situation'.

~ Jake

Lis,

Um. I don't know if you've seen the newest person to send in a letter, but we now have an issue.

Jessy, if you're reading this, I was sort of trying to avoid talking about this right away but I'm sort of trapped in a weird place, and Jake's here too because I'm a dumbass. I did not, so you know, let him read your letter or my reply. I figured you wouldn't want that. Sorry for dancing around the issue earlier :/ But at least you can get a good sample of the complete insanity we go through on the regular now!

Yeah... you're getting thrown into the deep end right now, aren't you. Sorry. There's no way to ease into this. You should probably either stop reading these entirely or start reading the letters from the beginning, so this will all at least make some sense. The first letter should start with the words "To whoever reads this," just so you know you get the right one.

Back to you, Lis. Yeah, I feel pretty bad for TSB Jake too. I honestly can't imagine being in his position right now.

Alright. So, you can choose the place. Great! There's way less chance of you being caught that way...

Tragedies just seem to be happening to all us Duskwood detectives, recently, don't they? Rai is chronically overworked and barely has time to sleep, I'm stuck in this hellhole and I've been forgotten by most everyone, you were shot, and poor Matt died and... well.

I never knew him, but I feel really bad for him :(

You could give Max half the truth. Tell him you have a stalker, and he's starting to get physical. Jake has been trying to help you get away from the asshole. It's not even a lie, just... not the full truth. Because. You know. The whole truth is completely fucking insane.

Writing to Jessy just put into perspective how insane everything is, I think. Gimme a sec.

Oh, fuck. My Jessy just texted me. Great timing.

Jeez that whole thing with me leaving myself out was just a joke XD If I knew you and Jake would take it so seriously, I'd never have said anything. I'll steer clear from now on.

Yeah, okay, definitely Goldie. That makes way more sense. I don't think you have to be quite so drastic as destroying the phone. Just get him to leave it at home for the trip.

Ahaha, thanks. I don't think that's necessary, though. Actually, seeing future!Jessy's perspective has caused a bit of a paradigm shift. I think I might need to reconsider what all to tell and not to tell the Crow Crew. I just sort of default to keeping things secret, now, but you've seen how well that worked for me with you and Rai, and with Jake.

Again, you probably should wait for them to contact you first, but you WILL need to talk to them when that happens. What you say to them and what you don't is up to you.

Pack a couple different pens XD We're all a bit long-winded.

That's all from me :)

(The handwriting changes to Jake's.) Hallo, Lis.

Yuvon refuses to tell me what precisely she means about Jessica. Was she somehow contacted by an alternate version of Jessica? If so, how?

I am glad it was Goldie who contacted Max. Yuvon's suggestion for an excuse seems a good one, as there are far less things to remember that way. You simply need to oversimplify everything.

I do not, unfortunately, entirely believe that Yuvon was joking when she made that comment, based on previous comments and her ongoing guilt. I can't understand sometimes why she feels the need to lie so much. It is difficult for me to read people, much less her.

I will speak to her eventually. Early tomorrow, perhaps, if nothing else rears its head. Yuvon looks tired, and I am also admittedly not at my peak. I sincerely hope she does not wake up as early as she does every single day. It may get somewhat taxing, what with the lack of coffee here.

I think that is all from me to you, Lis. If you would kindly find a way to send the next section to my counterpart without looking at it, it would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you :)

—Jake and Yuvon

Jake,

It is a pleasure to meet you as well, despite the unusual circumstances.

That our pursuers may be freed from the stasis is a logical conclusion. Seeing as the last known location I had on them in my universe was approximately five hundred miles from Duskwood, they will likely be some of the first to free themselves from the stasis. I do not believe I need to warn you that time is of the essence.

It seems as if I am a small distance ahead of you in the development of countermeasures, perhaps because I have had more linear time to develop them. If you are where I think you are at in the development, you likely have or will soon hit a bug you cannot pin down that makes the pinpointing mechanism simply refuse to work at all. Presuming your and my version of NYM-0S are similar enough, the issue should lie in the public bool set in line 132 of the third part of the targeting script, the script that decides what constitutes a target; you have it defaulted to "false" where it should default to "true".

As for additional countermeasures: I was attempting to work on a rudimentary automated system of pattern detection when I was brought here. Essentially, its function would be such that it would be able to triangulate using the locator features already installed to find a rough estimate of where their headquarters might be. However, I have not found any way thus far to eliminate outliers, and as such the feature is currently next to useless. I am no longer able to work on the code, but perhaps you will have more luck than I did.

That is all I can think of for the moment on that subject. However, I have an odd theory on what may be part of the reason we vary so. If you have a moment to spare, please answer me this:

When I was very young, back when Mother was still around, she took me to a doctor for odd behaviors. This included not looking people in the eyes, but there was a list. I was given a diagnosis; if you had the same experience, you should likely know which one.

Did you have this experience? If so, please prove it by stating what the diagnosis was.

Do not worry if you do not know what I am talking about; I would rather you did not guess. Simply state that you don't know. It will confirm my theory.

Good luck with your pursuers.

—Jake

(The letter tucks itself in the paper clip with the others.)

#duskwood letter game #yuvon writes letters #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #lis #this isn't precisely a puzzle #it's a genuine question on jake's end #you aren't expected to answer unless your jake is the same

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hazel-writes · 3 years

Text

Summary: While recovering from the events that took place on Dantooine, you learn more about Finn and Takoda's complicated pasts.

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence and childhood trauma

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It will take a while

To make you smile

Somewhere in these eyes

I'm on your side

• Space Song - Beach House •

It had been three days since your mission to Dantooine, and you still hadn’t wrapped your head around what had happened there.

Rilea kept asking you if you were alright, and you always responded with an enthusiastic yes. Any other response prompted a long, worried conversation about stress following traumatic encounters, followed by a rant on the violence perpetrated by patriarchal societies. She wasn’t wrong, but you just didn’t feel like talking about it.

Akilah kept asking you how you escaped. You could tell she didn’t buy your story — and she knew that you knew that — but wanted to make you admit it anyways. How she knew this still remained a mystery, one you couldn’t solve unless you revealed something about yourself that you were determined to keep a secret.

Soren was quiet, as usual, but instead of shooting you his typical iconic glare, he had been avoiding your eye contact completely.

Koda, on the other hand, was furious. For some reason, he felt guilty for what happened, despite the fact that he was miles away at the time. You told him over and over that it was not and could not be his fault, but you could tell that your words were not enough to appease his guilt.

Based on Koda’s reaction, you felt as if you should be more angry about what happened, but you understood why the men had attacked you. Years of pent up anger, frustration, and loss, mixed with the alcohol they had most likely consumed earlier, had combined to incite the unfortunate turn of events. You had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No, I should be more mad, you shamed yourself. They attacked me. Hit me. Kicked me. Watched as I gave up.

A knock sounded on your door. You already knew who it was. Ever since Finn found out about what happened on Dantooine, he had started showing up everywhere you were: inside the cafeteria, throughout the hallways, and now, outside of your room.

You sighed, making your way to the door. You opened it, and just as expected, found Finn there, helmet in hand, smirking at you with a sheepish grin.

“Finn…” you drew out his name, as if patronizing a small child. He looked back at you with apologetic, yet pleading, eyes. “I already told you, I’m fine.”

“I know what you told me,” he said, stubbornly.

Darn his freaky emotional intelligence.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, since you are already here, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

He nodded enthusiastically, eager at the opportunity to help out. “Yeah, of course. Anything.”

You ushered him into your room, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, you continued, knowing he wouldn’t like what was coming next.

“What’s goin’ on between you and Takoda? It’s just… you both are so sweet and it’s weird to see you guys act so distant around each other.”

He smirked. “Well, first of all, we’re sweet around you — I am still a trooper, remember, so I can’t be this charming all the time.”

“Right,” you said, cheeks reddening slightly as you rolled your eyes. “But why the lack of charm around Koda?”

He sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact. “Koda and I… We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“Such as…” you inquired further.

“Such as the trooper program.”

That didn’t make any sense to you; Takoda had never spoken about the program before.

“Why would Koda be interested in the trooper program?”

The room was silent.

“Because he was one.”

“Koda was a trooper??!” You couldn’t picture it. As hard as you tried, you just couldn’t. He was too silly, too full of life. But the same was true for Finn, and he was a trooper too…

“Yup,” he replied, somber. “We were in the same fleet too. We always had each other's backs.”

You thought for a second, processing the new information. “So what changed?”

He hesitated, looking down at his feet. You’d never seen him look this sad before, and it made your own heart feel heavy.

“A couple years into his program, Koda got injured.”

“Injured — how?”

“We were on a planet with a heavy rebel presence. Our orders were to… eliminate a village that housed supposed Resistance sympathizers. We went in with grenades,” he paused, choking on his words. You looked up at him, reaching out and grabbing his hand, supportively. He nodded appreciatively and continued. “At one point, a trooper next to me threw one. It landed by a little girl, maybe nine years old. Koda jumped forward — pushed her out of the way. He ended up catching most of the blow. I can’t honestly say that I would’ve had the courage to do the same. I hid my grenades in a nearby bush and ran over to him; he was hurt badly. So the med guys took him, and he was airlifted outta there.”

You squeezed his hand, gently urging him to continue. “What happened next?”

“I visited him in the hospital a few days later. He told me he’d been ‘medically discharged’ and was free to go wherever he wished… I was so happy for him. Not many stormtroopers get that kinda opportunity to start over, live their own life. Many injure themselves on purpose to get discharged, but usually they’re too obvious about it and end up executed on the grounds of ‘treason’.”

You shook your head in shock. “Stars…”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “So I asked Koda what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go… I mean, the possibilities were endless for him! But he surprised me. He told me he wanted to stay with the Order, try to make it 'better'. I couldn’t believe it — especially given his background.”

“What do you mean, his background?” you questioned.

“Koda hasn’t told you?” he said, eyes widening.

“Told me what?”

“Kriff…” he mumbled. “I think that’s something you should discuss with him .”

“Yeah, okay...” You paused, thinking. You were still confused about one thing.

“So Koda refused to leave the Order, and you and him just… stopped talking?”

He sighed, his hand leaving your grasp to run through his hair. He seemed frustrated, not at you, but at the newly-unearthed memories of his past.

“It’s not as simple as that. Koda had a choice. He had a choice to join the trooper program, and a choice to leave it. I never had a choice. I was forced into it. It was either this, or death.” He paused, sighing, before lowering his voice. “Had I known what it would be like here, as a trooper, I would’ve chosen death.”

Hearing that tore your heart in two. “Finn, please, don’t say that.”

He threw up his hands. “It’s true! Being forced to tear apart planets, villages, houses, families, people… It’s horrible. Sickening.” He paused. “I- I had almost given up hope completely, when all of a sudden you came into the picture.”

You gave him a sad, appreciative smile.

“Anyways, he had a choice to leave this life, and he said no. I’ve never had a choice, but if I did, I would be out of this place in a second. That’s why we don’t talk anymore.”

“I see.” You paused. “Finn, I-”

Words couldn’t describe how incredibly sad you felt that such a strong, empathetic man like Finn had been forced to endure so much pain.

You reached out and pulled him into the biggest hug you could manage. Your eyes prickled with tears. “I’m so sorry Finn, I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered over and over into his ear.

After a few minutes like that, you finally pulled away to see Finn smiling warmly at you. How could he still do that — smile — after everything he’d gone through?

“Hey, I just thought of one good thing that came out of me staying in this stupid trooper program.”

“What?” you asked, genuinely interested.

There was that sheepish smile again. “Well, if I left, I never would’ve met you.”

You didn’t deserve a friend like Finn.

“And I would’ve never met you…”

You grabbed his hands in yours and held them to your forehead. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. It was your turn to worry.

“I wish there was more I could do for you,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “You’ve already done so much.”

“Not enough,” you replied.

He sighed, bringing both your hands back down to your lap.

“Listen, there’s something about you — I don’t know what — that gives me hope, and I don’t use that word lightly. I felt it from the first, or should I say the second, time I met you.” He laughed, his eyes brightening. “If anyone can change the way things are in the galaxy right now, it’s you.”

You looked at him, wondering where this blind trust was coming from. He had only known you for a short amount of time… You finally understood why the Commander was so surprised by your own blind trust in his orders.

“I should get back,” he said, standing up. “But please, try to remember what I said.”

After giving you one last hug, he put on his helmet and made his way out of your quarters, leaving you to your thoughts.

——————————————

You spent the next few hours reflecting on your conversation with Finn. You found yourself desperately wanting to find out more about Koda’s enigmatic background.

After pacing back and forth across your room a couple hundred times, your curiosity finally got the best of you.

I have to go talk to Koda. I need to find out what he has been keeping from me.

You found him sitting in the artist workspace, alone.

He didn’t seem to see you at first, so you cleared your throat, announcing your presence.

His head jerked up, startled. His brown hair was a bit more disheveled than usual, and his hair fell over his face slightly.

You smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no, I was just spaced out for a sec,” he smirked. “I’m back now.”

A moment passed before his features became more serious. “How are you feeling?”

This was the first time you’d really talked about what happened on Dantooine with Koda. Most of what he knew was from Rilea’s retellings.

You shrugged. “Fine, considering. It could’ve been worse.”

He looked down, wringing his hands uncomfortably. “Why wasn’t it… worse? How did you end up getting away?”

You couldn’t tell him what really happened — it’s not like he would believe you if you did. You settled for a half-truth instead.

“I managed to kick one of the guys who jumped me and while he was distracted, I made a run for it. That’s when you guys found me in the field.”

He shook his head, still looking at his hands. “Kriff… I’m sorry. We should’ve never split up.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I just seem to be a magnet for trouble,” you chuckled, trying to bring up the mood.

He nodded, unconvincingly. “So what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in a hospital bed or something?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, they won’t miss me,” you smirked, earning an eye roll from Koda. “I actually came here because I wanted to ask you about something.”

He squinted in your direction. “Uh oh, you have serious voice on.”

You laughed before continuing, “I just wanted to ask you about Finn.”

“Ahh…” he said, as if he knew this conversation was coming.

“I already talked with him today, so now it’s your turn to endure the wrath of my nosiness.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, letting out an audible sigh before rolling his shoulders and assuming a more comfortable position. “What do you want to know?”

You continued hesitantly, not wanting to offend Koda or worsen the tension between him and Finn. “Well, we talked about why you two don’t get along and how you chose to stay with the Order after you were discharged from your trooper duties. Finn mentioned — and please, don’t get upset that he told me — he was surprised by your decision… especially considering your background. What exactly did he mean by this?”

Takoda paused, looking at you as if considering something. Finally, leaning towards you slightly, he continued. “What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room, alright? People onboard wouldn’t think too kindly of me if they knew.”

You nodded. “Of course, Koda, I would never do something like that — never.”

His hazel eyes met yours as he spoke in a low, serious voice. “I wasn’t born First Order. I was born Resistance.”

He looked up at you, attempting to gauge your reaction. When you didn’t look angry or disgusted, he continued.

“I was pretty independent from a young age. My parents were never home. They were always working on something Resistance-related. They were pretty much consumed by their work. One year they even forgot my birthday,” he huffed, looking to his feet. “When they hadn’t come home by dinnertime, I left the house. I walked for hours before I came to a small village. A group of off-duty stormtroopers walked by, chatting about their latest mission, and I approached them.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“At that moment, all I wanted was to be a part of something. A team. A community of people that truly had my back. I couldn’t join the Resistance, not after what it had turned my parents into. So I asked the stormtroopers, begged them, to let me join them. FN-2187, or Finn, as you call him, was there. He was against it. The others that were with him, however, were all for it. So just like that, I went with them.”

You were surprised. “So the Order just let a random kid into their program?”

“Pretty much. At the time they were desperate. Less and less people wanted to be a part of the trooper program. They took anyone they could get. So, I signed up, trained, and fought as a stormtrooper. Finn took me under his wing. Kept me outta trouble.” He paused, his eyes downcast. “He was like the only true family I ever had. Then I got injured, Finn got mad when I decided to stay, and they transferred me here, to this job.” He looked up at the ceiling, releasing a dry chuckle. “Funny thing is, I found out years later that my parents had missed my birthday, their own son’s birthday, to attend some random Resistance diplomat’s birthday party instead. Talk about the ‘Parent of the Year’ award…”

You were starting to appreciate your family on Lothal more and more. They weren't perfect, but they had never forgotten your birthday.

“Listen, I know I can’t change how they treated you, but please believe me when I tell you that they are missing out. Big time.” You smiled at him. “You have the biggest heart. They don’t deserve you. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but Finn truly did, and does, want the best for you. He cares about you so much, but is too stubborn to admit it, just like another certain someone I know.” Koda rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying you should forgive him right away… I just think that second chances are important, and are something that Finn has hardly ever been offered in his life.”

Koda sighed dramatically before speaking again. “Fine, maybe someday, in the very, very, very distant future, I will consider talking to Finn.”

You smiled, satisfied. “Good.”

“But only so you will stop bugging me about, like I know you will.”

You smirked. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

He shook his head, looking at you incredulously. “You know, you’re pretty good at the whole active listening while subtly brainwashing thing. It’s annoying.”

You smirked. “I have lots of experience.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do… So, is my interrogation over?”

“I suppose it is… for today at least.” You looked at the papers laying on the table next to Koda. “What were you up to?”

“Oh,” he started, looking a bit flustered. “I was just trying to sketch something up.”

A twinge of anxiety hit you. “What? I didn’t know we had a new assignment already!”

“No, no, it’s not for a new assignment,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s for Rilea.”

“Rilea…” You smirked, knowingly. “I knew something was going on there.”

The look of panic on Koda’s face was almost comical. “What? No! Nothing is going on! The going is off. A hundred percent off.”

“Wow, consider me convinced,” you replied sarcastically.

He shook his head emphatically. “I swear, we’re just friends… not even that! We’re basically enemies.”

You smiled devilishly. “Alright, I’ll be sure to let her know the next time I see her.”

The panicked look on his face turned to one of pure terror. “No! Please! Ugh. Just- just don’t say anything alright?”

“Whatever you say, Koda,” you said, once again smiling in victory. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to your project.”

You walked back towards the door, stopping briefly before you exited.

“And Koda?” You turned to face him. “Thank you.”

He looked back at you, confused. “For what?”

“For not giving up.”

And with that you made your way out of the workspace and back to your quarters.

———————————————————

Upon arriving in your room, you headed straight to the bed, face-planting into the pillows. You sighed loudly before turning onto your back, casually scanning your eyes over the space. Something on the floor next to the door caught your eye: a white slip of folded paper.

You stood up, making your way over to the mystery letter. The word artist was written on the front. Opening it up, you found it simply read:

Meet me in room E23 tomorrow night at 8. This is not a request.

Commander Ren

You chuckled. Of course he had to add the ‘this is not a request’ bit.

Alarm bells soon began sounding in your head. You wondered what this meeting was about: Were you in trouble? Was this about your Force abilities? Were you being led into a trap?

But there that strange feeling was again: trust.

For some strange reason, you trusted that the Commander wouldn’t hurt you. After all, he’d proven as much over the last few days, after saving you from Hux and the men on Dantooine.

You thought back onto your conversation with Finn, remembering how he told you about the way he was forced into the trooper program. It shocked you that some troopers had attempted to injure themselves to get discharged from their duties. You recalled how Finn, himself, said he would have rather died than have accepted his position with the First Order…

If that’s the way these seemingly robotic and unempathetic troopers truly felt, then what was to say that the Commander was any different?

You had seen him in battle — you had found footage on your data pad. He was fueled by emotion; each strike of his fiery crossguard blade exploded with passion.

Though this raw emotion scared most, it enticed you — it gave you hope.

An excess of emotion was always better than a lack of it.

Maybe the Commander was forced into his role, just like Finn was. Maybe he had no choice but to join the Order. Maybe that’s why he wore his mask: to distance himself from his true feelings, from his inner conflict.

Of course, you knew more than anyone…

Things aren’t always as they seem.

——————————————————

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lovelucigoosey · 4 years

Text

We Need to Talk

(requested by @zeto1304 )

(Not sure if I’m gonna continue this yet, until I finish I’m Not Good At All, but I hope you enjoy this!!!)

The phone felt heavy in his hand as Steven hung up.

He swallowed and leaned back a little, shifting to pocket the phone again. His heart was pounding - not fast, but hard enough to make his chest ache; he heaved out a sigh, which quickly turned into a groan, closing his eyes for a second. That had been a disaster; he should have known going to Homeworld would end like that. He should have known something bad was going to happen. And it had! He had… he had almost… he had almost shattered White. He had tried to! It had taken slamming his own head into a pillar - god, it still hurt - for him to even actually realize what he'd just done, but even then, even then, it hadn't completely erased the thoughts. It hadn't made him want to do it any less. Hell, for a split second, while he'd been sitting there, holding his head, it had almost made him want to kill her even more.

He shuddered, staring down at his feet for a moment. His shoe was missing. He needed that- no, wait, what was he thinking now? He couldn't go back to Homeworld for a stupid sandal. Then he'd have to see White again after almost shattering her and- god, no, no, they could keep the sandal. Needed something to remember him by, seeing as he wasn't ever going back there.

Keep it together, Steven, he reprimanded himself, twisting his foot slightly and lifting it from the floor for a second, only to lower it back down again. Did you think of shattering White? Yes. Yes you did. Buuuut you didn't! You didn't actually shatter her so that isssssss good. I mean- yeah Jasper, you still shattered, but that's… you can work with that! One is better than two, right? Right? Right! This is fi- No- wait, what? What?! What am I thinking? This isn't fine!

He put his head in his hands and screwed his eyes shut, trying to force his thoughts into a relatively calm state, but it was far too late now. They had already trailed, wandered, gone so far that he was running double time to catch up and still somehow missing them by several thousand miles at the same time. No, no, no, no, no… this isn't… I didn't mean to… I didn't mean to shatter Jasper…! I didn't mean to think that-! I didn't really want to shatter White- right? Yeah, she did some really, really messed up things and… and… and maybe I'm… mad…?

His head throbbed, and he gripped it harder, screwing his eyes shut and letting out another soft, breathless groan into his hands. The familiar sound of the television turning on didn't register until he suddenly heard White's voice - which was enough to make his head shoot up - and wide eyes fell onto the screen. He nearly stopped breathing, mostly on purpose, every muscle in his body spasming and going completely tense as he scrambled backwards onto his bed and pushed himself as far away from the TV as he possibly could, chest tightening with… panic.

"Time to come out, Pink…"

Steven couldn't keep himself from gasping in time. It was the only gulp of air he was going to get in a while, because he immediately went back to holding his breath the second the sound left his lips, slapping his hand over his mouth and fighting back a gag. He wanted to move, he wanted to turn the TV off, he wanted to look away - but he couldn't do anything.

Just like then.

Just like when she had held him in one hand with her nail digging into his skin as she held his shirt up to reveal his gem. Just like when her other hand had come down toward him, agonizingly slowly but far too fast at the same time. Just like when he had tried to scream, to plead with her to stop so that he could talk to her. Just like when he had looked into her eyes and realized at the last second - the very last second - that he was completely, utterly, one-hundred percent helpless. The gems were being mind-controlled, Connie was being held back by Pearl and he was trapped in White Diamond's cage-like claws as she- as she-

He had felt so weak. So useless. So completely out of control. For the first time in his life, he had finally been terrified about something that was happening to him - because for the first time in his life, it was something he genuinely couldn't stop. He couldn't talk her out of hurting him. He couldn't lay on the old 'Universe charm' and flash her a soft smile and puppy dog eyes and have her fall right for it. He couldn't befriend her so that she wouldn't hurt him or his family, and his planet, and his friends and everything he'd ever known. He wasn't 'Steven' to her. Right then he'd been nothing - nothing to her than his mother. He'd had gems look at him like he was Rose. He'd had the Diamonds look at him like he was Pink. But there was something about her.

Something in her smile.

Something in her eyes.

And for the first time, Steven had been afraid. He had been helpless. He had realized how totally out of control he was and how this gem could crush him in the palm of her hand- and he couldn't do anything about it, because he couldn't talk her out of hurting him. He couldn't get enough words in to open her eyes up, to make her realize what she was doing was wrong. He hadn't had the time. He hadn't had the chance. By the time he managed to, it was too late.

He could still remember sitting alone that night, curled up and sobbing, remembering how much it had hurt. Now, his hand twitched down to his stomach somewhat out of instinct, right when the White Diamond on the screen pinched two fingers around his gemstone and pulled it out. The television cut to static after that, and he actually did gag this time, recalling that that was pretty much how it had actually happened. After that, once the white-hot pain had subsided, everything had suddenly just kind of stopped. Everything had gone dark. It hadn't even stopped hurting, even when the darkness consumed him; no, it had kept hurting. Up to the second he woke up in Connie's arms, it still hurt. Everything had hurt. His stomach. His body. His head.

He had been terrified.

Terrified that he wasn't going to be able to fix it this time. He wasn't gonna be able to befriend this gem. She had hurt him. In a way that nobody had ever hurt him before.

It was, undeniably, the worst thing he had ever experienced… and he had just shoved it down. One snide comment - "I am a child. What's your excuse?" - was the only thing he was able to snap at her. The only thing to release barely a fraction of the anger and hurt that had welled up in his chest. He had wanted to scream and cry - and he had, he had done that a lot later on - but right then, he could only watch as his biggest enemy fell apart on him just like everyone else. And then he had to pick up the pieces and put her back together, brand new again.

And then he had to live with her for two years. He had to see her face. He had to see her smile. He had to look into her eyes. He had to deal with it when she wanted to pick him up. He had to remind himself that things were different now and she wasn't going to do that again. He had to wake up alone after every nightmare, calm himself down from a panic attack after every interaction with her, force himself to keep a straight face and a grin when he was near her instead of lashing out like he wanted to, screaming and crying like he wanted to, instead of showing an ounce of the fear he felt - for even more fear that she would turn against him again.

And she would hurt them. And she would hurt him. And then it would be his fault. Because he couldn't look her in the eyes for the sake of the galaxy after she had ripped his gem out.

With tears steadily brewing in his eyes, Steven couldn't help but wonder, now, why. Why. After everything she had put him through. After everything she had put them through. Why did he have to be the one to put up with her? Why did he have to be the one stuck with her? Why did he have to be the one to help her after she had hurt him like that? After she had managed to do the one thing none of the other gems had ever managed to do - and genuinely scare him?

Even Jasper hadn't scared him like that… and, at first? Yeah. She had scared him.

Malachite had scared him.

But Jasper didn't scare him anymore. It had been a long time since he felt that kind of fear toward her; but he still felt it toward White, despite his best efforts to ignore it. And it wasn't just when he was around her, either. Sometimes it was just the thought of her, the mention of her. Anything about her was enough to make him tense, make him want to shudder and curl up. He never wanted to feel so out of control again. He never wanted to feel so helpless again.

And maybe that was why it was easy to lose himself in the fight with Jasper. Maybe that's why it was easy to think, for just a second, that he wanted to inflict as much pain on her as he could. Because, for once, he was the one in control. He was the one dishing out the blows. He was the one, finally, unafraid, with a steady grip on his powers, one he wished he could say he'd had on his emotions, too. It had been too late when he realized what he'd done; when he realized he'd let all of that anger and pain overpower him, getting high on his powers, on the control he held. And that was what had happened back on Homeworld; realizing White couldn't hurt him. Because he was controlling her.

Just like she had controlled him that day. Just like she had controlled the gems that day.

A new scene unfolded on the screen.

"She's the one who should be afraid…"

Again, more insistently, as he stared at the screen, he wondered why. He had been - what? Fourteen? When it had happened. Fourteen when he made the decision that his own fear, his own discomfort, his own pain, mattered less than everyone else. Who cared if White scared the living crap out of him? Who cared that he still dreamed about what had happened that day? Who cared that he still wanted to cower before her when they were face to face, wanted to curl up and beg her not to hurt him. Like he had. Like he had when he had been controlling her. When he finally let a little bit of that fear slip, finally reverted back into that fourteen year old that had writhed and struggled against her hold, too scared to open his mouth and beg her to stop.

He still remembered - everything he wanted to say - every single pleading word on the tip of his tongue he couldn't spit out. Stop! Stop it! I don't like this! Let me go! Please- you're scaring me!

The scene changed again, and Steven finally decided he'd had enough when he heard those same words being screamed right back at him. A different scenario; a different victim. But still so similar that it made his chest ache. He scrambled off of the bed, hitting his knees on the floor and fumbling for the button to turn the TV off - and breathing out a sigh of relief when he did.

The relief didn't last long.

He recoiled the second he saw his reflection; the second he saw the diamond eyes staring back at him. And that… that was it. That was the second he completely unraveled. At first, he could only gasp, every part of him trembling. His hand rose toward the black screen, toward his reflection, only to pull back again. He couldn't breathe; he was trying his best now, no longer holding his breath and trying to gulp in as much air as he could, but every attempt was shaky, stifled, feeling like his entire body was simply about to shut down and collapse right there.

And then he screamed.

The screen cracked as he pushed himself back, hitting the foot of his bed, and promptly dissolved into hysterics. He felt fourteen again, crying and screaming out for his dad in the spaceship on his way to the human zoo. Sitting alone in his bed night after night after the nightmares that haunted him, sobbing and trying in vain to calm himself down. He hadn't cried like this in three years; he hadn't felt like this in three years. This helpless and hurt.

"No, no, nononono-" He covered his face, struggling to speak through his tears, but that was the only thing he could get out before he just couldn't speak anymore, only able to spit out stuttered, short attempts through his sobs as he only grew more hysterical, more frantic, more desperate.

"This isn't-" His ribs hurt, body spasming and jerking with the force of his sobs as he pressed his hands harder against his face in an attempt to just make himself shut up. "This c- I can't- I don't- I- I- why is this- HA- HAP- PENING TO ME-?!" The entire room shook this time as he screamed, not out of anger, but complete, raw pain, and terror. He continued to sob, doubling over and gripping the sides of his head now instead, fingers burrowing deep into his hair. He pulled, tugging as hard as he could - and even managing to tug several strands loose in the process. "I don't wanna be a Diamond! I don't wanna be a Diamond! I DON'T WANNA BE A DIAMOND!"

He felt like he was falling.

He tugged at his hair again, more desperately now as he cried, shaking his head and trying to rid himself of some of the tears streaking down his face. He felt like he was about to drown in them at this point; a few even went up his nose when he tried to breathe in, but it only brought on another series of choked, body-wracking sobs, loud and filled with pure, unadulterated pain. "I ju- just w- wanna b- wanna- wanna be- be me I just wanna be me I just wanna he- help-"

A few more tears fought their way to freedom, coursing down his cheeks, and he cried a little bit harder. He couldn't stop himself. It was just another thing he had lost complete control over now. "I- I just wanna help," he whimpered, "J- Just wanna help pe- people I do- don- don't w- don't wanna h- hurt th- I- I- I- can't-" He gasped, struggling for air, and covered his face again.

He couldn't say with complete certainty how long he stayed like that, sobbing and gasping. He eventually gave up on speaking through his tears, just letting himself cry in a way he hadn't in a long, long time now. He felt like he was breaking inside, something squeezing his lungs and shattering each one of his bones and internal organs into pieces and there wasn't anything he could do about it, nothing, nothing but sit there and cry and feel as helpless as he did when he was fourteen years old, when he was nothing but a child with the weight of two worlds on his shoulders.

"It hurts…" He whispered shakily as his sobs finally quieted, just a little. Subsiding slowly into sniffles, too tired, too sore for his body to keep working itself the way it had been. "It h- hurts… I'm scared-" He choked out another sob, hiccuping almost immediately after, as if his body was trying to breathe on its own now. It didn't quite work - if anything, it made him hurt even worse. "I want my dad…" He shook his head, his face pressed into his hands. "I w- want my gems…"

They had hurt him, too.

Deep down, he knew that. He knew how much they had put on him - how much they had led him to put on himself. But right then, at that moment, he just didn't want to be alone.

He was still trying to calm himself down, still struggling with himself, still trying to breathe, when he heard the stairs creak. He jumped a little, still in panic-mode, head snapping up at once as he blinked rapidly to try and see through the blur of tears in his eyes. It wasn't much, but - a familiar blob of purple was all he needed to see. That was all it took for his eyes to scrunch up again, for his mouth to twist, for his body to tremble and shudder in protest before he started crying again. This time, it wasn't outright sobbing; it was quieter, but just as messy.

Just as painful.

He heard Amethyst gasp, footsteps rushing over to him, but he couldn't force himself to calm down enough to look up at her again. He only buried his face into his hands again, hiccuping and gasping as he tried to force himself to breathe. "Steven, what- what happened?!"

"Steven?!" Pearl practically shrieked, her voice a little further away - but when she spoke again, accompanied by the sound of more footsteps, she was much closer than Steven had expected. And it was enough to make him flinch and recoil, looking up just in time to see Amethyst pulling her hand back in shock, while Pearl reached out for him without hesitation, either having not seen his reaction or simply not minding it. Regardless, he didn't even fight her, as she only managed to utter, "are you okay-?!" Before she finally seemed to register him completely.

He didn't know what it was. The tears. The pinkness. The hair. The diamond eyes. But she gasped, sucking in a breath that didn't come back out for a long, long time.

Rubbing his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing he could muster now was desperate, completely unintelligible stuttering. He didn't have the strength to put any words together now, much less to form an even slightly coherent sentence. They were here; they were right there in front of him, asking him what happened and if he was okay and, oh, god, he wasn't. He wasn't okay. And he wanted nothing more than to finally let go of all his doubts and fears and just let everything pour out, but he still couldn't form the words to do so.

"Steven…?" Amethyst's voice was softer, a little more panicked.

He choked out another sob and covered his face with one hand, letting the other one drop. Rather than hitting the ground, as he expected it to, it landed in another hand instead; he recognized Pearl's touch with ease, as both of her hands curled around his, and it only made him shake even harder with the sobs he couldn't muster any more than he could speak.

But he squeezed her hand, half to reassure her and half to beg her not to leave him, not to go anywhere until he could finally pull himself together enough to say something. And she squeezed back, a reassurance of her own, and Steven finally let his shoulders droop.

After that, it was a little easier to calm himself down. He rubbed the tears away as they fell, breathing in slowly and steadily - in through his nose, out through his mouth, just like Garnet had taught him - as the gems only watched. He could feel their gazes, confused and concerned, and as much as he wanted to open his mouth to speak, to explain, to talk - he didn't know what would come out when he did, and if it would be words, or if it would just be more sobbing. So he just kept his mouth shut and forced himself to breathe, until, finally, he managed to calm down just enough to get a few good, long deep breaths in, going limp with relief once he had.

"Steven," Garnet spoke softly, and he flicked his gaze up to her, still blinking past the remaining tears. Her hand raised to her visor, poofing it away with the simplest touch; three eyes stared back at him, one red, one blue, and one purple, each one filled with nothing but concern. "We're worried." And he wondered who the 'we' was in this situation - her, Amethyst and Pearl, or Ruby and Sapphire. Regardless, he managed to breathe in again, rubbing his eyes a little harder.

It took several minutes for him to spit out the words, but he'd never felt more relieved than when he finally managed to, breath hitching and stuttering every so often, but managing to speak his request clearly and loudly enough for them all to hear. Because they all needed to hear this.

"We- We need- t- to talk…"

#steven universe #su #steven universe future #steven universe fanfiction #su fic #steven universe fic #su one shot #steven universe one shot #sad steven universe #depressing #aftermath of murder #and attempted murder #steven needs therapy #steven needs help #steven needs a hug #white diamond was kind of a bitch I'm sorry #trauma #steven is traumatized

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mangled-dreams · 5 years

Note

Hello! i'm new to your blog, but I've stumbled across your Sins of the mother series, and I am in LOVE with the way you write Darkiplier! And so, if I may request a story of my own? A Darkiplier x reader where the reader is going to be moving from home soon and she hasn't told anyone. She's nervous abut how Dark will take it but tells him once she gathers the courage.

I don’t know when this request was placed, mainly because I feel off the map hard and can’t remember where I was, but here it is. I hope you enjoy it despite how long this request has been in my queue.

OVER THINKING

“So, when is the date?” You mother asks jokingly as you look at your calendar. Panicked you nearly rip your calendar off your wall. “Oh! Honey, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She chuckles walking forward to soothingly run her hand over your back.

Sighing you bring your heart rate down before addressing your mother. “It’s okay, I should have been paying more attention around me.”

Looking at your calendar your mother suspects something different is going on. “Is everything okay? You’re not...” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You’re not pregnant are you?”

Immediately you begin laughing at the question. “No! Of course not, Mom! I’m so not ready to have that kind of responsibility.” It’s humorous really. While you do enjoy the company of your nieces and nephews, both blood related and not, you are not jumping at the chance to join the ranks of their parents. Not to mention your boyfriend doesn’t really want children of his own either. It’s a perfect match for you.

“You don’t have to laugh that hard, Y/n!” Your mother grouses lightly smacking her hand against your shoulder. It sobers you up, but still you find her concern hilarious.

Sighing contently you explain that in no way are you pregnant, opting to give her a more plausible excuse. “I’m trying to plan a vacation to San Diego. It’s hard to find the right time for vacations and if I don’t plan far enough I won’t get the time off.” After a few more words with your mother about the best time to go to the sunny city she leaves you to your planning. Seeing her out the door you close and lock it for good measure.

In truth you didn’t completely lie to your mother. You are planning a trip to San Diego, just not for vacation. You have a job interview with a communications company that will pay for your schooling while employed. You haven’t informed anyone in your family of your plans, let alone Dark.

You met your boyfriend not long ago in a dark alley of all places. You’d gotten lost on your way to a bar to meet some friends in an unfamiliar city only to walk down the wrong alley. Dark never explained what he was doing exactly, just that he was tracking down a fugitive.

You gathered he was a bounty hunter of some kind, but he never dressed like one, Sometimes he’d show up outta the blue at your doorstep exhausted and in need of some peace and quiet; to which you offer in abundance.

Your stomach rolls at the thought of having to tell Dark you’re moving, but, you remind yourself, that is if you get the job offer. Looking through your calendar once again you log on to your computer and begin making your plans to visit San Diego.

“Miss L/n, we’d like to inform you of our official offer of employment.”

You’d been dreading and anticipating this call for nearly a month. Relief sweeps through your whole body like a cold wave of water. Spending somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes going over the finer details. They’re going to give you an upfront bonus to move your things to San Diego and to find a place to live while acclimating to the new city.

Shrieking happily you flop on you bed you kick your feet and clutch your phone to your chest. You already have a place in mind to live for a while at least. A few years back a close high school friend struck it rich with an invention of hers and owns a property fairly close to your new place of work. You don’t plan of buying a car but do plan to invest in a good bicycle for the time being. Your one trip to San Diego turned you off from having a car for quiet some time.

“You look happy.”

Jolting up you spy Dark standing in your doorway, lazily lounging against the frame. Smiling you jump off your bed, running right into his arms. “I got a job offer!” You tell him honestly. Dark knows you’ve been searching for a good paying job so you can move back out on your own.

Dark smiles. His hand running gently atop your head. “I’m so happy for you. I hope it’s from one of your top choices.”

Nodding you push your face into his chest squeezing him tightly. He doesn’t press you for any more answers, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him about the distance the move will put between you. Not long after you tell him, Dark is gone after a bounty he’s been looking for.

Wishing him good luck and placing a kiss to his cheek you bid him a goodbye and watch him go. Sighing sadly you wrap your arms around your chest and hug yourself. You know the distance will hurt your family, you’ve always been really close to one another, but to put hundreds of miles between a fairly new relationship is basically asking for a break up.

Going back to your room you lay face up, staring at the ceiling you stared at since childhood, wondering just how you can tell Dark. You can’t ask him to wait for you to come back; but you don’t want to give him up. And yet, there is a third option but you can’t take him away from his work.

Twiddling your thumbs you wait in alone in the now empty house. You parents had gone out to see a musical a town over and your younger brother is away for the weekend with his best friend leaving you alone, waiting for Dark. You’ve decided to finally tell Dark.

The days have ticked away and you’re nearly half way through your last month. Swallowing a large ball of saliva pooled in your mouth you hear a strong knock on the front door and hurry to answer it. Peeking out Dark stares back at you.

“Dark, welcome. Come in.” You greet happy and scared to see your lover. Unlike his usual artier of a tailored suite and dress shoes, he’s in casual clothing. Tailored faded blue jeans with a green button up and a black sports coat frame his figure, You do so love to see him all dressed up, but seeing him like this, relaxed and at ease makes your hormones go crazy.

Pausing Dark can see the turmoil in your eyes. It’s been driving him crazy these past few weeks, ever since your job offer, that something bad happened. Most things he can forgive; but he despises being lied too. Pausing just inside the door Dark grips you by the shoulders, placing a soft kiss to your lips, and asks, “Is there something we need to discuss?”

Taking a shaky breath you nod, eyes cast down at the ground guiltily. “Please, come to the living room.” Shutting the door you lead Dark to the living room and sit down on the couch. Patting the cushion next to you he sits.

“Y/n, you know I do not enjoy being made a fool of, what is happening?” He asks calmly. He won’t react unless he feels it necessary.

Taking a deep breath you look up into his eyes. “I... It’s probably something you’ll find really stupid, but I’ve been agonizing over telling you about the job and where it’s located.” You start watching Dark closely. “I haven’t even told my parents or siblings yet because I wanted to let you know first.”

“Where is your job at?” Dark asks, relieved it’s simply a geographical issue, and not an issue of mistrust or deception. He can work with you simply moving again. Unlike you he is not bound to any one place.

“It’s in San Diego. The trip I went on last month was for an interview. They offered me a job and I accepted. They’re one of the only places that will employ me and send me to school.” You explain watching closely for hurt or anger. You see nothing.

“I see, well, that’s excellent. I know you’ve been wanting to move away for quite sometime and pursue a better education. Had you asked, i would have gladly funded any school you wished to enroll in, not to mention cover the cost of living in that city.” Dark says calmly, matter-of-factly. It’s a little off putting.

“You’re not mad?” You ask hesitant to even ask the question.

He shakes his head “Of course not; what would make you think I would be?”

For the first time since the fear rose in your chest you really give his question a good long once over. Everything you’ve ever discussed with Dark, he’s been nothing but supportive and accommodating. He never told you not to apply to jobs far away, and never made any indication he’d be upset if you had to move away, nor that your relationship would end if you did move away.

“I just assumed...” looking at your hands you really have no reply. “I guess I assumed our relationship would suffer because of some of my friends. They moved away for school and relationships I looked up to broke apart within a few months.” You respond looking over at Dark.

He chuckles, amused by your words. “I mean no insult by my laughter, however they are not us. I am not bound to his place like you are. I can come and go as I please. Wherever you are I can be as well. I thought I explained that before?”

Blushing you look away. “I, uh, I completely forgot until now.” Looking back to Dark you smile shyly. “You don’t think I’m a worry wart now, do you?”

Chuckling again Dark cups your cheek with his hand. “Of course not. Just, next time, talk to be first before worrying yourself to death. There is very little we cannot simply talk through.” In his own way he’s teasing you, easing the pain in your heart to a dull throb of embarrassment.

Laughing you agree with him accepting his kiss. Pulling away you rest your forehead against his, eyes locked, and ask, “So, you wanna help me tell lmy parents?”

Immediately he shakes his head. “That’s one show I do not want a ticket for.” You both laugh, but there is a sense of comfort and peace in you.

“I can respect that.”

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redditnosleep · 7 years

Text

I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The US Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell

by searchandrescuewoods.

Well, once again, you guys have blown me away with your staggering amount of responses to my stories! There's no way I can respond to each of you individually, so I'm just going to address some common things again, and then move on to the stories. I'm going to write as many as I can think of, in addition to my friend's stories, and I will probably not update again until I get a chance to answer some questions that I myself have for my superiors.

Alright, so the common questions I found you all had:

I am not comfortable talking about where exactly I work, unfortunately. In all reality some of the things I've mentioned here could get me in a lot of trouble or fired, so it's best if I just don't discuss too much. I will say that I'm in the United States, and in an area that is comprised of a great deal of wilderness. We're talking hundreds of miles of thick forest, with a mountain range and a few lakes.

There is still a great amount of interest in the stairs, and luckily for you guys my friend has a story that I think you'll all be very interested in. I'll go into that more at the end of this update. As for whether or not I have ever thought of asking my superiors about them, I have, but again, I don't want to risk my job. However, one of my former superiors no longer works as an SAR officer, and it's possible that he may be willing to talk to me about it. I'll be speaking to him later in the week, and I will let you all know what comes of that.

As far as advice on becoming an SAR officer goes, I think the best advice I can give is to contact your local Forest Service office and see if they offer and training courses, or what the qualifications are. I've been doing this for years, and I started out as a volunteer helping on SAR operations. It's a great job, despite the occasional tragic situations, and I wouldn't want to do anything else.

Alright, let's move on to the stories:

The first happened on a case that I went out on right after I got out of training, and was still pretty new to everything. Before I took this job, I was a volunteer, so I had a basic idea of what to expect, but on those calls you're mostly dealing with finding lost people after vets have found signs of them. As an SAR officer, you go out for all kinds of cases, from animal bites to heart attacks. This case got called in early in the morning, from a young couple who were up on one of the trails that goes by the lake. The husband was completely hysterical, and we couldn't really figure out what was going on. We could hear the woman screaming in the background, and he was begging us to come up there right away. When we get there, we see him holding his wife, and shes got something in her arms. She's screaming these awful, almost animal-like screams, and he's sobbing. He sees us and he screams at us to help them, to please get an ambulance up there. Now obviously we can't just drive an ambulance up the walking path, so we ask him if his wife needs help, or if she can walk on her own. He's still hysterical, but he manages to tell us that it's not his wife that needs help. I go over while one of the vets tries to calm him down, and I ask the wife what's going on. She's rocking, holding something, and just shrieking, over and over. I crouch down and see that whatever she's holding, it's covering her with blood. That's when I notice the sling on her front and my heart sinks. I ask her to tell me what's going on, and I sort of pry her arms gently open so I can see what she's holding. It's her baby, obviously dead. His head is caved in on one side, and he's covered in scratches. Now, I've seen dead bodies before, but something about this whole situation hits me hard. I have to take a second to compose myself, and I get up and go get one of the other vets, who's standing by. I tell him that it's a dead kid, and he sort of pats my shoulder and tells me he'll deal with it. It took us over an hour to get this woman to let us see her kid. Every time we try to take him from her, she flips out and tells us we can't have him, that he'll be okay if we just leave her alone and let her help him. But eventually, one of the vets manages to calm her down, and she gives us the body. We took it back to the med area, but when the EMTs showed up, they told us that there was never any hope of saving the kid. He'd died instantly from the trauma to his head. I was good buddies with one of the nurses who met them at the hospital, and she told me later what had happened. Turns out the couple had been walking with the baby in the sling, and they stopped because the kid was fussing. The dad takes the kid and is holding him, looking out over this little gully by the path. The mom comes to stand next to him, but she ends up stepping on a loose patch of soil, and she trips. She falls into the dad, who drops the kid, who ends up falling about twenty feet down this little gully onto the rocks at the bottom. The dad climbed down and recovered the kid, but he'd fallen right on his head, and was dead by the time he got there. The baby was only about fifteen months old. It was a total freak accident, a series of events that coalesced into the worst possible outcome. Probably one of the more awful calls I've been on.

I haven't seen a lot of animal bites in my time as an SAR officer, mostly because there aren't that many animals that come around the area. While there are bears in the area, they tend to stay pretty far away from people, and sightings are highly unusual. Most of the animals you'll see are small ones, like coyotes, raccoons, or skunks. What we do see frequently, though, are moose. And let me tell you, moose are nasty fuckers. They'll chase after anything for any reason, and god help you if you get in between a female and its baby. One of the more amusing calls was of a guy who'd gotten chased down by an absolutely massive male moose, and was stuck up a tree. Took us almost an hour to get him down, and when he was finally on solid ground again, he looks at me and says: 'God damn. Them fuckers is big up close.' I guess that's not really a scary story, but we still laugh about that one.

I honestly don't know how I'd forgotten this story, but it is, by far, the scariest thing that's happened to me. I guess maybe I've tried so long to forget about it that it just didn't come to mind right away. As someone who spends literally all of their time in the woods, you don't ever want to let yourself get scared of being alone, or out in the middle of nowhere. That's why when you have experiences like this, you tend to just forget about them and move on. This is, to date, the only thing that's ever made me really seriously consider if this job is the right one for me. I don't really like talking about it much, but I'll do the best I can to remember it all. As I recall, this took place right at the end of spring. It was a typical lost-child call: a four-year-old girl had wandered away from her family's campsite, and had been missing for about two hours. Her parents were completely despondent, and told us what most parents do; my kid would never wander away, she's so good about staying close, she's never done anything like this before. We assure the parents that we'll do everything we can to find her, and we spread out in a standard search formation. I was partnered with one of my good buddies, and we were sort of casually holding conversation while we hiked. I know it sounds callous, but you do sort of become desensitized when you've done this long enough. It becomes the norm, and I think to a certain extent you have to learn to desensitize yourself in order to work this job. We search for a good two hours, going well beyond where we think she'd be, and we come out of a small valley when something makes us both stop in unison. We freeze and look at each other, and there's almost a sensation like a plane depressurizing. My ears pop, and I have this odd sensation of having dropped about ten feet. I start to ask my buddy if he felt that, but before I can, we hear the loudest sound I've ever heard in my life. It's almost like a freight train passing directly by us, but it's coming from every direction at once, including above and below us. He screams something to me, but I can't hear him over this deafening roar. Understandably freaked out, we look all around us, trying to find the source of the sound, but neither of us sees anything. Of course, my first thought is a landslide, but we're not near any cliffs, and even if we were, it would have hit us by now. The sound goes on and on, and we're trying to yell to each other, but even standing close together we can't hear anything but this sound. Then, as suddenly as it starts, it stops, like someone threw a switch and cut it off. We stand there for a second, perfectly still, and slowly the normal sounds of the woods come back. He asks me what the fuck just happened, but I just kind of shrug, and we stand there looking at each other for a minute. I get on the radio and ask if anyone else just heard the end of the fucking world, but no one else hears it, even though we're all within shouting distance of each other. My buddy and I just sort of shrug it off and keep going. About an hour later, we all check up on the radios, and no one's found the little girl. Most of the time, we won't search when it gets dark, but because we don't have any kind of lead on her, a few of us decide to keep going, including me and my buddy. We keep close together, and we're calling out for her every couple of minutes. At this point, I'm hoping beyond hope that we find her, because while I may not like kids, the idea of them being out all alone in the dark is awful. The woods can be intimidating to kids in the daylight; at night, well, it's a whole different beast. But we're not seeing any signs of her, or getting any responses, and around midnight, we decide to turn around and head back to the rendezvous point. We're about halfway back when my buddy stops and shines his light to the right of us, into a really thick deadfall, or group of dead trees. I ask him if he's heard a response, but he just tells me to be quiet a second and listen. I do, and in the distance, I can hear what sounds like a kid crying. We both call the girl's name and listen for any kind of response, but it's just this really faint crying. We head in the direction of this deadfall and go around it, calling her name over and over. As we get closer to the crying, I start getting this weird feeling in my gut, and I tell my buddy that something isn't right. He tells me he feels the same way, but we can't figure out what it is. We stop where we are, and call the girl's name again. And at the same time, we both figure it out. The crying is on a loop. It's the same little hitching sob, then wail, then quiet hiccup, repeated over and over. It's exactly the same every time, and without saying another word, we both take off running. It's the only time I've ever lost my composure like that, but something about it was so incredibly wrong, and neither of us wanted to stay out there anymore. When we got back to the rendezvous, we asked if anyone else had heard anything strange, but no one else knew what we were talking about. I know it sounds sort of anti-climactic, but that call fucked me up for a long time. As for the little girl, we never found a trace of her. We keep an eye out for her, and all the other people who we've never found, but frankly I doubt we'll ever find anything.

Of the missing persons calls I've gone out on, only a handful have ever resulted in a complete disappearance, meaning no trace of the person and no body ever found. But sometimes, finding a body just leads to more questions than answers. Here are some of the bodies we've found that have become infamous in our team:

A teenage boy who's remains were recovered almost a year after he vanished. We found the top of his skull, two finger bones, and his camera almost forty miles from where he was last seen. The camera, sadly, was destroyed.

The pelvis of an older man who had vanished a month earlier. That was all we found.

The lower jaw and right foot of a two-year-old boy on the highest peak of a ridge in the southern part of the park.

The body of a ten-year-old girl with Down's Syndrome, almost twenty miles from where she'd vanished. She had died of exposure three weeks after going missing, and all of her clothes were intact except for her shoes and jacket. There were berries and cooked meat in her stomach when they did the autopsy. The coroner said it appeared as if someone had been taking care of her. There were no suspects ever identified.

The frozen body of a one-year-old baby, found a week after vanishing in the hollow trunk of a tree ten miles from the area he was seen last. There was fresh milk found in his stomach, but his tongue was gone.

A single vertebra and right kneecap of a three-year-old girl, found in the snow almost twenty miles from the campground her family had been at the previous summer.

Now on to a couple of the stories my friend told me. I mentioned that you were all interested in the stairs, and you're in luck: he's had a closer encounter with them. Though he doesn't have any explanation for them, he does have a bit more experience with them than I do.

My buddy has been an SAR officer for about seven years, he started when he was a junior in college, and he had a very similar experience when he first encountered the stairs. His trainer told him almost the same thing mine did, which was to never go near, touch, or ascend them. For the first year, he did just that, but apparently his curiosity got the better of him, and on one call he broke away from the line and went to go check a set of them out. He said they were about ten miles from the path where a teenage girl had vanished, and the dogs were following a scent. He was on his own, lagging behind the main group, when he saw a set of stairs off to his left. They looked like they were from a new house, because the carpeting was pristine and white. He said that as he got closer, he didn't feel any different, or hear any weird noises. He was expecting something to happen, like bleeding from his ears or collapsing, but he got right up next to them and didn't feel anything. The only thing, he said, that was odd was that there was absolutely no debris on the steps. No dirt, leaves, dust, anything. And there didn't appear to be any signs of animal or insect activity in the immediate area, which he found strange. It was less like things were avoiding them, and more like they just happened to be in a relatively barren part of the forest. He touched the stairs, and didn't feel anything except that sort of sticky feeling you get from new carpet. Making sure his radio was on, he slowly climbed the stairs; he said it was terrifying, because the way they'd been stigmatized, he wasn't really sure what was going to happen to him. He joked that half of him expected to be teleported to some other dimension and the other half was watching for a UFO to come swooping down. But he got to the top with little event, and he stood there looking around. But, he said, the longer he stood on the top step, the more he felt like he was doing something very, very wrong. He described it as the feeling you'd get if you were in a part of a government building you have no business being in. As if someone was going to come and arrest you, or shoot you in the back of the head, at any second. He tried to brush it off, but the feeling got stronger and stronger, and that's when he realized that he couldn't hear anything anymore. The sounds of the forest were gone, and he couldn't hear his own breathing. It was like some kind of weird, awful tinnitus, but more oppressive. He climbed back down and rejoined the search, and didn't mention what he'd done. But, he said, the weirdest part came after. His trainer was waiting back at the welcome center after the search ended for the day, and he cornered my buddy before he could leave. He said his trainer had this look of intense anger, and he asked what was wrong. 'You went up them, didn't you.' My buddy said it wasn't phrased as a question. He asked how his trainer knew. The trainer just shook his head. 'Because we didn't find her. The dogs lost her scent.' My buddy asked what that had to do with anything. The trainer asked how long he'd been on the stairs, and my buddy said no more than a minute. The trainer gave him this really awful, almost dead-eyed look, and told him that if he ever went up another set of stairs again, he'd be fired. Immediately. The trainer walked away, and I guess he's never answered any of the questions my buddy has asked him about it since.

My buddy has been involved in a lot of missing persons cases where there's never been a trace of them found. I mentioned David Paulides, and my buddy said he can confirm that those stories are, for the most part, accurate. He said that most of the time, if the person isn't found right away, they're either never found, or they're found weeks, months, or years later, in places they can't possibly have gotten to. One story he told me really stood out that involved a five-year-old boy with a severe mental disability.

The little boy vanished from a picnic area in the late fall. In addition to the mental disability, he was also physically handicapped, and his parents explained over and over that he simply could not have vanished. It was impossible. Someone had to have taken him. My buddy said they searched for this kid for weeks, going miles out of the accepted range, but it was like he'd never been there. The dogs couldn't pick up his scent anywhere, not even in the picnic area where he'd apparently vanished from. Suspicion fell on the parents, but it was pretty clear that they were devastated, and hadn't done anything sinister to their kid. The search was concluded about a month later, and my buddy said everyone had pretty much forgotten it by later in the winter. He was out on a training op in the snow, on one of the higher peaks, when he came across something in the snow. He said he saw it from far away at first, and when he got closer, he realized it was a shirt, frozen and sticking part way out of the powder. He recognized it as belonging to the kid, because it had a distinctive pattern. About twenty yards away, he found the kid's body, laying partially buried in the snow. My buddy said there was no way the kid had been dead for any more than a few days, even though he'd been missing for almost three months. The kid was curled around something, and when my buddy brushed off the snow to see what it was, he said he almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was a big chunk of ice, that had been carved crudely to look sort of like a person. The kid was holding it so tight that it had frostbitten his chest and hands, which my buddy could tell even with the decay that had taken place. He radioed the rest of the crew, and they took the body off the mountain. Now, he recapped all of this for me, and to put it simply, there was no way this kid could have both survived for almost three months on his own, or have gotten to this peak. There was no physical way this child could have walked almost fifty miles and ended up on the top of a god damn mountain. To top it off, there was nothing in the kid's stomach or colon. Nothing, not even water. It was like, my buddy said, the kid had been taken off the face of the earth, put in suspended animation, and dropped on this mountain months later, only to die of exposure. He's never really gotten over that one.

The last story I'll share from him was one that took place relatively recently, only a few months ago.

They were out doing a recon for mountain lions, because there had been several reports of sightings in the last couple of days. One of our jobs is to scout out the areas where these animals are seen to ensure that if they are in the area, we can warn people and close off those trails. He was out on his own in a very heavily forested part of the park toward dusk when he heard what sounded like a woman screaming in the distance. Now, as most of you know, when a mountain lion screams, it sounds almost exactly like a woman being brutally murdered. It's unsettling, but far from abnormal. My buddy radioed back and let ops know that he'd heard one, and that he was going to keep going to see if he could figure out where its territory started. He heard the mountain lion scream a couple more times, always from the same spot, and determined the approximate area of the mountain lion's territory. He was about to head back when he heard another scream, this time within only a few yards of him. Of course, he freaks out and starts heading back at a much faster pace, because the last thing he wants is to run into a god damn mountain lion and get mauled to death. As he got back on the path and started heading back, the screaming followed him, and he broke into a jog. When he was about a mile from ops, the screaming stopped, and he turned around to see if it was following him. It was almost night by this point, but he said in the distance, just before the path rounded a corner, he could see what looked like a male figure. He called out to them, warning them that the paths were closed, and that he needed to come back to the welcome center. The figure just stood there, and my buddy started to walk over. When he was about ten yards away, the figure took, as he described, 'and impossibly long step' toward him and let out the same scream my buddy had been hearing. My buddy didn't even say anything, he just turned and sprinted back to ops, never looking behind him. By the time he got back, the screaming had moved back into the woods. He didn't mention it to anyone else, just said that there was a mountain lion in the area and that they would need to close those paths until the animal could be located and moved.

I'm going to end this entry here, since it's turned into a huge wall of text. I'm going to be heading out on a yearly training op tomorrow morning, so I'll be gone until early next week. I'll be meeting with a lot of former trainers and buddies who work in other areas of the park, and I'll be asking around about any stories they'd like to share. I'm so glad you guys have been interested in my stories, and once I'm back from this op, I'll continue to share them!

#search and rescue series #creepy #horror story #series

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macabrecabra · 7 years

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SEP is that program that Jack and Gabe went through to become super soldiers. I'm not asking for torture, I'm just curious about your take on how it went down

Original prompt was asking about SEPand I blanked entirely on what it was so needed clarification butlike dum dum did not keep original prompt so only got response torespond to ; w ;But here is a little something I whippedup!(Note: still not taking Overwatch writing prompts, tryingto clear em out so I can focus on finishing longer fics, one-shotcollections in other fandom, and aquawatch asks c:)Title:Test of Endurance

Rating: PG-13Relationship: Gabriel going through experiment things Gabrielremembered doctors always saying that when you got shots, it was bestnot to look at the needle.

It was hard advice to follow though whenstrapped down with the mother of all needles descending towardshim, tip glistening with the fluid that would soon to be injectedinto his body. He tried to focus is gaze elsewhere and force himselfto relax, but the grinding of gears and the almost agonizingly slowpace of the needle drawing closer and closer to his body ate away athis last shred of nerves. He was wondering again why he hadagreed to this madness. The Solider Enhancement Program orSEP was not a by the book sort of operation. It had gained itsclassified standing for a reason after all. Sometimes the progress ofscience and super soldiers had to take some dark twists and find somewilling rats to put themselves under the needed to test the geneticmanipulation practices they were trying to make breakthroughs in. Gabriel just was wondered why he had thoughthimself a lab rat enough to let Jack talk him into this insanity. Onpaper it sounded great. What career soldier wouldn't want enhancedstrength, speed, and endurance? The process though, well that ishere the oh so helpful scientists smiled wide and became vague aboutwhat they were doing, throwing in scientific bullshit that probablymeant nothing and was said only to cause confusion. They sureas hell did not mention they were going to stab a needle about thelength of his forearm into him, that is for god-damn sure.“Mr.Reyes. Please. You need to relax,” The voice on the com wascalm, almost to a point it seemed they were far too happy about theproceedings. It only served to make Gabriel's skin crawl and put himfurther on edge as he glared around the room, knowing somewhere, abunch of suits were standing behind a window watching him squirm likea worm on a hook. “Shouldn't I be put under for this?” Hegrowled as the needle stopped mere inches to his face.“Weneed you conscious for the procedures, just to make sure the desiredresults are happening. Some patience reacted poorly to treatment whentheir metabolic cycle and heart rate dropped during the inducedsleep. We will do our best to numb the pain in the area we areworking but we apologize now for any discomfort,”

Gabriel had to bite back the bitterlaugh. Discomfort? He was pretty sure that the doctors in charge ofthis mad scientist project cared little about discomfort and cared alot more about getting the results they wanted. The needle inchedforward, dropping lower until it rested against the side of his neck.He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, unable to even try and forcehimself to relax.He must have been disillusion and drunk tohave ever agreed to this insanity with Jack. That was the lastthought he had before the needle struck and sharp pain shot throughhis body, numbed to only a dull throb. All his limbs seemed to tingleas if his entire body had fallen asleep despite the fact he couldstill move it all, although sharp pain lingered like a thousandlittle needles being pressed against his skin. His mind felt far toalert all at once, as if the world had come into sudden focus to thepoint every detail he could make out in the dark seemed to imprintitself onto his mind. Every sound was enhanced to the point hisheartbeat was a constant thrum and the hum of the lights above wasalmost maddening. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, wishingto just all unconscious rather than be so overstimulated by the wholeof the room. That though was a blessing he was not to begiven as his chair was reclined back and more mechanical arms droppedfrom the ceiling like a macabre mechanical spider. Each arm ended insome sort of tool or syringe, all twitching like they were sentientenough to know a lab rat lay beneath it, ready to be shaped into amasterful weapon.

Fear was not an emotion that GabrielReyes was familiar with as very few things scared him but lying therehelpless as a pinned insect beneath that twitching machine had hisheart hammering faster and faster in his ear to the point he was sureit was going to burst. “Just relax, Mr. Reyes,” the voicecrooned from overhead. “Just relax and trust in us.”Themachine descended and the world was plunged into something close to awaking delirious dream. Pain was there, but it was drowned out by thefeeling of something moving inside of him that he couldn't quiet see.He could only stare up at the moving metal and the flashes of redreflected in the gleaming surface. He wondered if he was being takenapart and put together in all sorts of new ways. Nothing felt realand his mind was both there and hundreds of miles away, floatingabove his body that just felt entirely wrong now. Nothing felt likeit should. There was only dull throbs that raced up and down his bodycombined with that tingle of sleeping limbs despite how his fingerstwitched and moved with every nerve proddedHow long it went,Gabriel was unsure. Time felt as if it had simply vanished forhowever long he had laid there beneath the moving limbs of themechanical horror. He was barely aware of faces leaning over him, allwearing surgical masks as they worked. They were about ashuman-looking as the machine as they talked and murmured above him.Eventually though, the sense of wrong like he had been abducted faded and the machine and doctors retreated once more. The chair helaid upon slowly moved him into a sitting position and he staredstraight ahead blearily. He certainty felt different even ifon the outside it didn't seem too much had changed. When the claspsopen to release him, he let out a sigh, rubbing his wrists. “Wasthat all there was to it?” he asked out loud, knowing someone waslistening. Any small relief or hope he had about theprocedure was dashed by that far too cheery voice speaking up againand he could practically hear it shaking its head, “That was thefirst of a few procedures you will be going through butcongratulations. The first step was a success. In a few more weeks,you'll be ready to field test.”Gabriel grimaced and hisshoulders sunk.What hell of an experiment had he agreed toparticipate in?

#Overwatch #Overwatch fanfiction #Gabriel Reyes #SEP Overwatch #medical procedure #nothing graphic though

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