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schrijverr · 5 months

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It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

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visualbutterflysworld · 5 months

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Drunk Vinnie | Vhackerr

Warning: vinnie being drunk and clingy

might make a part 2. idk

“I need to text my girl. I want my girl.” Vinnie whined as he leaned onto Jack. “She’s right there Vin.” Jack laughed as he pointed to you, who was preoccupied by ordering a Uber. “That’s….that’s not her! I’m texting Y/n right now.” Vinnie huffed before pulling out his phone. He pulled in his bottom lip. He squinted his eyes trying to successfully type correctly.

In his mind he thought he texted, baby where are you? I miss you!

Instead he actually texted, “biby here ure uuuu( iiiii muss youuu &&”

You chuckled as you read the text before going back to what you were doing. “Why won’t she text me back!? DID SHE DIE?! JACK CALL THE COPS!” Vinnie yelled when he did see those three bubbles pop up. “Vinnie, stop yelling.” You rubbed his arm, trying to sooth him. “No! Who are even you?! I have a girlfriend, lady!” Vinnie quickly gave you a dirty look.

“I am your girlfriend, Vinnie.” You laughed. “No! You don’t look like my Y/n. My pretty Y/n. Where’s my pretty Y/n?” Vinnie’s bottom lip begins to tremble. “Okay, Vinnie, let’s get you home.” You say, “Jack. Help? Uber’s here.” Jack nods before you and him put Vinnie’s arm over your shoulders.

“Y/n! I love Y/n so much! She’s so pretty!” Vinnie yells as you guys walk outside. “Vinnie, shhh.” Jack said. “Jack-o’-lantern, you just don’t understand.” Vinnie lays his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Yeah, man. Here. In you go.” Jack shakes his head before helping you put vinnie in the car.

After a short 15 minute drive you guys are back at your house, knowing Vinnie will be too loud for his apartment. “Honey! I’m home!” Vinnie yells as he stumbles into the house. You shake your head before shutting the door and locking it. “Do you want some water?” You ask. “Yeah, that sounds great random person. Hey, this place looks at lot like my girlfriend’s house?” Vinnie scans the room.

You quickly dash and get him some water. Once he’s handed the glass, the water is gone in a matter of seconds. “Let’s get you to bed.” You say before grabbing his hand. “Okay, but nothing is happening between us! No funny business lady or I’ll tell Y/n!” Vinnie tells you. It was honestly so cute, seeing Vin miss you even though you were there.

Once you reach the bedroom, Vinnie wastes no time collapsing on the bed. “Mm. So comfy.” A happy lazy smile on his face. You take his shoes off and his socks knowing he hates sleeping with his socks on. “Y/n is the best. Do you have a Y/n?” Vinnie asked as you unbuckled his belt. “Sorta. Expect he’s a guy.” You say before pulling his pants down and throwing them somewhere. “That’s good. What’s his name?” Vinnie ask as you pull him to sit up. “Arms up.” You say.

Vinnie puts him arms up and strikes a pose while doing so. You laugh softly before pulling it off as well. Sober vinnie would thank you because he gets hot to easily in his sleep. “The guy! His name!” Vinnie says before falling back. You don’t know how but he somehow knew he wasn’t under the covers so he quickly places himself underneath.

“Vinnie. His name is Vinnie.” You say before grabbing a t shirt to sleep in. “What!? That’s my name! My name is Vinnie!” Vinnie yells. “I know that, Vin.” You quickly toss your hair in a low bun before sliding in bed. “I never asked but, what’s your name?” Vinnie says. “It’s y/n.” You laugh before moving a piece of hair out his face. Vinnie’s face scrunched before his eyes went wide.

“Wait a minute! You’re Y/n! My Y/n! Oh my God! When did you get here baby?!” Vinnie quickly rushes into your arms. You laugh, “I’ve been here the whole time Vin.” “Nuh uh! That other lady was here! I swear.” Vinnie nuzzles his head in your neck. You lay back so that you can both rest comfortably. “Whatever you say, Vin.” You message his head.

“I love you Y/n. Promise to never leave me like that again?” You smile before slowly closing your eyes. “I love you too. I promise to never leave you again.” You feel Vinnie smile and it isn’t long before the both of you are passed out into a bliss.

#vincent hacker #vinnie hacker #vhackerr #bwwm couples #bwwmromance #oneshot #love #lovers #vinnie hacker x reader

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months

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Two idiots in love. (P5)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: Henry and Sam interrupt the trio's plan. And Joel says something that will either make or break what he has with the reader.

Warning: blood, guns, Infected, fighting, cursing

Masterlist

Part 1 and 6

.........................................................

Joel was on his knees behind Y/N, digging through her hair, checking the injury on the back of her head. "Well, good news. Just a little scrape. Head bleeds more than the rest of the body, so it only looks like it's bad."

She hummed before looking over her shoulder at him. When she felt him staring at her, she completely swiveled on the ground to face him. His eyes were studying her closely.

She sighed, "…why do you do that?"

His eyebrows furrowed, "Do what?"

She wasn't sure how to even explain her thoughts, so she dropped it, "Just… nothing."

Joel didn't want to push her anymore than she already had been today, so he dropped it, too. "Go lay down, Darlin."

She smiled, standing up, "…There's that accent again."

He scoffed under his breath, standing too.

This seemed to be the longest Ellie had been quiet. So, she took it upon herself to break the moment, "How long are we gonna be here?"

Joel sighed, "We'll survey the roof in the morning."

Then he started scattering glass around the door, leading all the way to their makeshift beds, which consisted of old couch cushions.

The sound of glass falling was killing their ears, and finally, Ellie yelled out, "Joel!"

He stopped, "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want someone sneaking' up on us while we're sleepin'."

"Oh! I get it. Crunch, crunch, crunch." She got a smirk, "Are you sure you're gonna hear it?"

"Of course, I'll hear it. That's the damn point."

…

Joel woke up to the sound of Y/N's panicked voice. "Joel…?"

"JOEL!"

His eyes opened.

Ellie was held at gunpoint by a man in his twenties.

Y/N was still seated on the ground with her hands up in surrender.

Joel turned.

A young boy held a gun to Joel's head.

The man spoke up quickly, "Eyes on me."

Joel simply stared at him, determining his next move.

The man continued, "You don't have to worry about what to say. We don't wanna hurt you. We wanna help you."

Joel's voice was strained, "Okay…"

"Okay… um… I don't know what the next step is with something like this, but… if I lower my gun… We didn't hurt you, so you don't hurt us, right?"

Joel's eyes never left the man. "That's right."

The man tilted his head in panic, "That's a weird fucking tone, man."

Ellie spoke up, "That's just the way he sounds. He has an asshole voice. Joel, tell him he's okay."

"Everything is great."

Y/N looked over her shoulder. "Joel…"

The man was confused, "Fuck. Okay. I'm gonna trust you."

He began to sign to the boy. They communicated back and forth a few times before he spoke up again, "Okay. But if you guys try anything… yeah?"

Silence ensued before the man motioned for the boy to step back.

Joel's jaw clenched when they didn't pull their guns away, "Can I sit up?"

"…Yeah. Slow. Get up slow."

Joel did so, keeping his hands raised, "Who are you?"

"My name's Henry. That's my brother, Sam."

…

The five sat in the building around a lantern, eating rations.

"Where did you get these?" Henry asked.

"From Bill," Ellie answered. "He's dead."

Joel reached out, giving the rest of his portion to Sam, who took it happily. He motioned to Henry.

Henry spoke up again, "He says thank you. I'm guessing you don't have much, so, this means a lot."

Ellie smiled, "How old is he?"

"He's eight."

"Cool. I'm Ellie."

Henry's eyes moved to Y/N, waiting for an introduction.

She felt his gaze, "Oh. Uh. Y/N."

When Joel didn't answer, Ellie slapped his leg.

He grunted. "I'm Joel. Look, you ate, we didn't kill each other, let's call this a win-win and move on."

Henry nodded, "Well, I'm betting that y'all came up here to get a view of the city and plan a way out. And when the sun's up… I'll show you one."

…

"Highways. Downtown. Us." Henry pointed out on his makeshift map. "This whole are belongs to Kathleen."

Y/N spoke up, "She's in charge?"

Joel wrapped his arm around her waist slowly and unknowingly, as if instinct. She in turn, leaned against his side.

Henry nodded, "Leader of the resistance. So. How do we get across?" He signed to Sam.

Sam wrote on his paper tablet the word tunnels.

Joel scowled, "Kansas City has a subway?"

"No, maintenance tunnels."

"Alright. Great plan. So what do you need me for?"

Henry sighed, "You noticed anything strange about this city?"

Ellie hummed, "No infected?"

"Oh, there's infected."

Y/N connected the dots, "But not on the surface…"

Henry nodded, "Exactly."

Joel was growing angry, "So you want US going in a tunnel?"

"Everyone thinks that it's full of Infected, but I know it's not. They cleared it out like… three years ago."

Joel scoffed.

"Okay, so maybe there's one or two. That's why you're here."

"And what if there's more?"

"Like those ones that see like a bat?" Ellie asked.

Henry stepped back, "Wait. You ran into a clicker?"

Ellie smiled, "Two of 'em."

"And you're still alive. See? If it gets bad, we turn around."

Joel's scowl never left, "So THAT'S your plan?"

Y/N grabbed Joel's hand. "Joel…? Can we..?"

He leaned down, "Yeah, uh. Give us a minute"

The two walked out of the room into the hallway.

Joel sighed, "I don't know about this, sweetheart."

"Me neither."

He stared at her, "Tell me what's going on in that little head of yours."

"It's dicey but… it's all we have, isn't it? And that would make four people dependent on you."

He nodded, "How do you know we can trust this guy?"

She smiled, "Look at him, Joel. He wouldn't hurt a fucking fly. The guy is harmless."

"What if he harms you?"

She stopped. "Is that what you're worried about?"

Joel sighed, "I'm always worried. About you," he stops, trying to cover the meaning of his words, "…and Ellie. You and Ellie."

"Well," she continued, "Trust me about this one thing. When have I steered you wrong?"

Joel stepped back in thought, "That one time when-"

"-Yeah. Okay. I heard enough." She walked past him into the room. "Henry, we'll do it."

Joel was so blindly in love with her.

…

Here they sat in a safe room in the tunnel, waiting for daylight to end.

Y/N still hadn't recovered from yesterday's events, so Joel was insistent that she rest.

But when she tired to lay on the ground, he held her up, dragging her over to the table as he sat in a chair.

He pulled her into his lap, "Floor's too cold. You'll get sick."

That's how she ended up asleep in his lap, her head tucked in the crook of his neck as she slumbered.

"You know," Henry said, "I didn't take you as the… caring type."

Joel scoffed, "What?"

"With your… your wife," he pointed to Y/N in his lap, "and your daughter," pointing to Ellie.

Joel's voice hardened, "This isn't my family."

Henry stepped back from the chair, "Sorry, man. I… I just thought-"

"-well, you thought wrong."

He thought Y/N was asleep, but she wasn't.

And she heard every word.

…

The group exited the tunnels, beyond happy that their plan was working.

Ellie smiled, "So, cross the river, and then what? Where are you guys gonna go?"

"Don't know yet," Henry thought, "Probably gonna head toward-"

Gunshot.

They all ducked.

Joel grabbed at each person, "Move. Move! GO!"

They hid behind a car.

Henry was panicked, "Where is that coming from?"

Joel turned, "Shut up."

He turned to Ellie and Y/N, "You don't move, and he's not gonna hit you. I'm gonna go around, try to get in the house through the back."

"But if you go out there, he's gonna kill you." Ellie protested.

"It's dark and he has shit aim. No one is gonna kill me." He leaned towards her, "Do you trust me?"

She nodded.

He turned to Y/N, "You'll be alright."

She leaned in towards him, "Just… be careful."

He reached forward, taking a strand of her hair in between his fingers and studying it, as if it will be his last chance to. "I will be."

…

Joel's voice was heard from their hiding place, "RUN!"

Y/N's head perked up, "Ellie. We gotta go."

Headlights.

And soon, a snow plough began clearing out the cars leading up to the four.

They ran as fast as they could, hearing Joel firing at the car from his place in the house.

He managed to hit the driver, making the vehicle crash into the house.

It caused an explosion.

Joel watched carefully trying to locate Y/N and Ellie through the smoke.

Kathleen exited her vehicle, soldiers following suit.

And the four were hiding behind a car.

Henry spoke up, "I'll come out! Just… let the others go."

Kathleen smiled, "No. Sorry. The girls are with the man who killed Bryan. And Sam… well… Sam is with you."

"You don't understand!"

The snow plough suddenly fell through the building and into the tunnel, causing a massive hole to show.

And the sound of Infected.

The four began to run as Infected ran out from the tunnels.

In the chaos, Y/N had lost Ellie.

She made it to the tree line, looking back for her.

When Ellie was nowhere, she grumbled, taking out her gun from her pack, and going back out.

She dodged Infecting, shooting at some as she went.

When one grabbed at her arm, a bullet moved straight through its head.

Joel.

She looked up to the house in gratitude before continuing.

She finally found Ellie stabbing at Infected that were trying to attack Henry and Sam. She ran as fast as she could to them, helping Ellie finish the job. "C'mon."

Y/N led them all back to the tree line. They were only feet away when Kathleen stopped them, her gun aimed carefully. "Stop."

They watched an Infected jump at her and begin to rip at her face.

They were all frozen.

Joel grabbed at Y/N from behind. "This way. Now. Move!"

She jumped, turning around as they others began to run, "Thank you."

He nodded "Let's go."

…

"Think they'll be okay?" Henry asked.

They all sat in an abandoned house, the kids in the bedroom reading a comic book, the adults in the living room.

"Yeah. It's easier when you're a kid anyway."

Y/N stood on shaky legs, "I need fresh air."

Joel's eyes watched her carefully, "Hey. Don't wander, alright?"

She turns back with a defiant look, "Not like you'd care."

And she shut the door behind her.

…

Joel stepped outside a little while later.

Y/N was sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the stars.

He stood behind her, "You alright?"

She turned as far as she could towards him, "I'm fine."

Joel didn't like that answer.

He sighed, moving to sit next to her. When she didn't look at him, he grabbed her jaw gently, pulling it towards him. His voice was soft, as it always was with her, "Hey. You're obviously not fine. And what the hell was that back there? Tell me what's going on."

She stared into his eyes, trying to decide what to say to him.

He tried to make her sit in the silence, but even he couldn't handle it. "How am I supposed to fix what's wrong if I don't know what it is, sweet girl?"

She scoffed, "I just wish you'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

She turned her head away from his hand, "Quit looking at me… like… like that."

Joel looked confused, "I don't get it."

She sighed deeply, "You look at me and you talk to me like… like I mean something to you, Joel. It's frustrating."

He leaned back in shock. "You… you think I… I don't care about you?"

She laughed slightly, standing up and walking out into the yard slightly, "You've made that much clear, Joel. You said it yourself."

How could she think that? Joel began to ponder anything and everything he's ever said to her. It was angering him, "I've never said those words to you. I care about you."

"Only because I'm Tess's sister."

"Watch. Your. Mouth."

She paused, watching Joel stand on the stairs. Her tone dropped to a quiet mumble, "I think I've been on this journey long enough. I should just go."

Joel stepped down one of the stairs, "I've already said it before. You're not going anywhere. I want you here."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Joel!" She yelled, "You don't even consider me family!"

Oh.

She heard that.

He sighed, trying to control his tone, "No one wants you to leave. I need you on this trip… and Ellie. She needs you."

"I just want you to be honest."

"What do you want from me, baby?"

They just stared at each other.

"I want you to tell me what you want from me, Joel."

He stood in thought, before descending the stairs. "There are no wants in this world now, sweet girl. You and I both know that."

"You don't need me to be around. I'm extra weight."

"LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TELL YOU YOU'RE FUCKING NOT!"

Her eyes hardened at his loud tone. "Don't try to spare my feelings. You don't want me around and I see it. Just…" her eyes saddened at his look, "…stop looking at me like that. Please."

She moved past him, going back up the porch stairs.

"Darlin', wait."

She sighed, turning around.

But she was thrown off by the sudden feeling of his lips on hers.

One hand wrapped around her waist, the other across her back, pulling her closer.

He pulled away.

"There are no wants in this world, but I do. I want you."

Her eyes scanned his face inquisitively, checking for the truth.

"You can look all day, sweet girl. I'll always tell you the truth. Please, stay."

She nodded, pulling away from his arms. "Okay. I'll… I'll stay."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "Uh...good."

He moved past her to go inside, but she gently tugged at his sleeve.

He turned to her.

And she kissed him back.

He hummed into the kiss, pulling her to him once again.

He had always wondered how soft her lips were.

And now he knew.

She pulled away this time, "Let's go inside. I'm fucking cold."

Joel chuckled. He shrugged off his jacket, placing around her shoulders. "I think I like it out here more." He gently kissed her lips again. "I'll keep you warm."

She smiled, "I love when you look at me like that."

.....................................................

Part 6

Tag list: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa

#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

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gffa · 4 months

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Usually, I like to finish reading a fic before recommending it properly, but I've been sucked into about five different STAR WARS fics recently that I've gotten far enough into that I'm willing to trust my heart to them because they're scratching a very specific itch for me--namely, that I want deeper explorations of both the Jedi Order and of Anakin's character. I want fic to punch me in the feelings over both of these aspects of the story. I want fic to sometimes set Obi-Wan and Anakin aside and focus on Ahsoka for awhile, really tell her story. I want Jedi themes woven into a story. I want an exploration of Anakin's mindset that reminds me of just how much I love him and have sympathy for him. And fandom has delivered for me.

DO YOU WANT FIC TO BLACK OUT TO AND LOSE AN ENTIRE WEEKEND OVER? HAVE I GOT SOME RECS FOR YOU:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, ahsoka & mace & jedi & clones & cast, 312.5k In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. This fic accomplishes several things that have sent me over the moon: 1) At its heart, it's an Ahsoka fic that shows her growing up as a Padawan, going on missions, learning lessons, and having character growth. 2) It weaves in so many other characters around her, that Mace is there in almost every chapter, serious but warm in the Force, just as beautifully characterized as she is. 3) The other Jedi get their moments of excellents, Shaak taking Ahsoka on her Akul hunt was wonder to read, seeing Obi-Wan show up for a chapter had me over the moon, Adi taking care with Ahsoka was lovely, Depa was a shining star when she took Ahsoka under her wing, Fox growing used to these strange Jedi and growing into himself through Ahsoka's eyes was wonderful. 4) The writing is that kind of solid that I don't mean as mid-tier, but the kind that I feel like can bear weight on it, I can pick it up and read for 30k and barely realize any time has passed, despite that I've gotten through an entire arc of the fic. 5) It does an incredible job of balancing that feel of The Clone Wars show, without directly copying anything, that it's like these are arcs that I could have seen on the show itself, the lessons woven in, but still with enough plot moving forward and action to make it exciting. If you want more Jedi-centric fic in your life (where they don't have to be perfect! sometimes they can be less than perfect and it's okay because they're still good! ohhhh, my heart warmed at that) or you want to read a lovely Ahsoka-centric fic in a different life, but still so recognizably herself, then this is one I want to shove right in your face immediately.

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 116.k wip Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right? I got sucked into the first fic in this series (which is complete, if you want to read it--it's not the end of the story, but it's a good stopping point and feels like it should have some solid resolution if you don't want to get into a wip) and read the first fic over the course of about three days because I was sucked in so thoroughly. I can never get enough of Obi-Wan time traveling back to the past, where he loves the Jedi and they love him, and I love this one because he has to make genuine plans for changing things--things change and I have no idea how that's going to affect Palpatine's machinations! Exciting! But it's also a lovely look at Obi-Wan's dynamics with multiple characters--I found the Obi-Wan & Padme scenes a hightlight personally, their friendship really blossomed as they both flung themselves into trying to better the galaxy, even if she doesn't know he's from the future, that he's working so hard matched a lot of her energy and I really enjoyed that--from Qui-Gon to Mace to Padme to Anakin and, as the sequel progresses, Dooku as well. It's another Jedi-positive fic, it has me invested in the plot, it's a joy to see competent!Obi-Wan, and I would love to shove it at more people.

✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin, 46k (wip-esque) After a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along. This is probably the shortest fic on this list but I'm including it because it genuinely felt longer than that, for how dense the emotional intensity of it is. It's an AU where the Jedi barely eked out a victory, still on the edge of extinction in many ways, and Anakin deep in the pits of the dark side, so Obi-Wan takes him to a backwater planet in exile for the both of them, traveling through the countryside and just trying to make it from day to day. What punched me right in the feelings place is that this fic doesn't shy away from the hurt and the anger on both sides, that both of them are allowed to be unreliable narrators that have their own points of view on what's transpired and what lays between them. It doesn't back away from the hurt they both feel, the despair they both feel, yet there's hope here. It's ultimately a story about clawing yourself back from the dark side, and it's beautifully characterized for both of them, that unkind things are said on both of their parts, but you understand why the characters are in the place they are. It's wrapped up in a lushly written backdrop, with some lovely Japanese feudal era details woven in, but also with a Star Wars patina spread across all of it. It's not necessarily a kind fic, but if you like fic that bites down on a wound, I enjoyed this series a lot and would love to see it continued--but, honestly, what's here is already enough resolution that, looking back on it after the initial "Noooooo, I need more!" feeling has faded, I'm actually very satisfied with. ✦ Men of Power by AlabasterInk, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & jedi & palpatine & cast, 86.1k wip When an old powerful man suddenly comes in and sweeps your underage Padawan away without so much as a by your leave, that’s the time to start asking questions. I'm only about 20k into this fic, so I can't say what shape it will take later on or how much pairings might come into it, but I still had to come running over to shove this fic at people, because it's scratching the itch I have for Jedi-positive fic that explores the idea of Anakin's trauma from his childhood as a slave, that this is a child who is wound so tight and comes from such a horrible thing having been done to him, having been owned as a person, that I understand why he stays silent on some of the things I desperately wish he could talk about or he doesn't really believe some of the things the Jedi tell him. It's a fic that takes a lot more care with Anakin's character than I think canon ever intended, weaving in a lot of the heartbreaking stuff from Legends' supplementing the canon, and is creating something that punches me right in the feelings place for him, that he's such a bright, brilliant boy, but I see why he struggled and it's not about assigning blame in any direction. It's about deeply caring people who fate has take a few steps to the left and something shifts just a little--and I appreciate that there's something very delicate feeling here, that the Jedi just don't have any real reason to be suspicious of Palpatine, his actions make sense, they genuinely can't feel any ill intention from him in the Force, they discuss why it would make sense that he'd want to support Anakin, all while we the readers can see, in hindsight, where the shadows have been creeping in. If you want Jedi-positive fic that also leaves some teeth marks over Anakin's trauma being explored in a way that is entirely sympathetic to him, then I want to shove this fic at you, too.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #mace windu #yoda #ahsoka tano #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs

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disasterofastory · 8 months

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Yours (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Yours // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 8/14 Warnings: virgin!Brahms

Summary: You want a special night with Brahms.

"Can you do that, Brahms?" You ask him for the second time when, instead of answering your previous question, he pouts at you with a slight, moody wrinkle between his brows. "Can you promise you won't spy on me for a few hours?" The corners of your lips twitch as you listen to your own words. You can't even imagine what other people would think of Brahms or you if they heard you right now. Or any other time. "But why?" His voice is higher with a couple of octaves than before. His hands on your waist tighten while you keep your arms around his lean waist. "Because I want to surprise you," you tell him. "It's just a few hours, Brahms. Please." His chest stretches with a heavy sigh. "Fine." "Great!" You squeak out, reaching up for his neck to pull him down for a quick kiss. "You won't regret it." It's funny you say that; Brahms already feels the regret eating at him when you disappear upstairs.

You have been waiting for this day ever since you decided to stay with Brahms. Well, you like to think you had a choice in the matter. You had doubts when he dragged you into the shower with himself the first time, but after the first kiss you shared, you knew it for sure. He has no experience with women and intimacy. You weren't even surprised. The man lived most of his life behind the walls of Heelshire manor. In the beginning, he had barely any idea what to do or how without your guidance. It was fine, though. You love the power you had over him and his pleasure. You built him up patiently and softly. And today, if he is okay with it, you are ready to take the next step. You are surprised he hasn't initiated it yet. Brahms has no patience when it comes to what he wants, and you learned it rather quickly.

So, you take the first step.

You start with your room after making sure Brahms doesn't lurk behind the walls. You gather more pillows and blankets, adjusting them on the bed to your liking. You even go and unpack the lights you ordered since Brahms is not really comfortable around fire. You put the lanterns and fairy lights all around the room until you are satisfied with the result. By the time you are done, it's already dark outside, and your room looks like a cozy nest with dim lights and the scent of fresh strawberries because of the tray of snacks and drinks on the bedside table.

You are really satisfied when you leave your room to get Brahms, who is already in the living room with his mask on. You can't help but frown at the sight of him. "What's wrong, honey?" You ask him softly, cradling his face in your hands as he accepts you stepping between his legs. His warm palms find their way to the back of your thighs immediately. When he doesn't reply, you continue. "Do you not want to see my surprise? Do you want to do something else?" He shakes his head.

Ever since you earned Brahms's trust, the man avoids wearing his mask around you as much as he feels comfortable without it. By now, you only see it on him when something is wrong.

Biting your lip, you think through your next step. "Do you want to take a bath with me? Bubbles and everything." Finally, he nods. "Good," you smile at him, taking one of his hands in yours to link your fingers together. "Come, then." He follows you up to his room like a lost puppy, watching you prepare his bathroom without a word. "You can take off your clothes," you tell him, glancing at his towering figure over your shoulder when you check the water's temperature for the last time.

You didn't share your plans with Brahms, but maybe he can feel it in the air. He knows something is coming, and you want to give him the chance to say no. "You know," you start. "We can watch a movie, too. Or I can read." Both of you are in the bathtub, enjoying the warmth of the water. The air is heavy with steam and the scent of the bathbomb you used. The water is green and glitters a little under the light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling. "No," he says. The porcelain of his mask is cold on the side of your face as he rests his head on your shoulder. His arms are around you while your back is against his broad chest. His hands are cupping your breasts, just holding them for his comfort. "But you can change your mind at any second, okay?" You ask him. "What is our safeword?" "Doll." "Good boy," you praise him, reaching behind you to pet his hair.

You take your time in the bathroom, making sure to wash his worries away until his body is relaxed in your hands. You massage his shoulders, caress his chest, and play with his curls while he lets you pamper him until the water is almost cold and you have to get out. "Do you feel better?" You ask him, leading him out of the room with his hand in yours. "Yes," he replies. He still wears his mask, but you don't mention it. You know he will take it off when he is ready. "Did you change your mind? We can go to sleep, too, baby." "No. I want to see your surprise." "Okay, love," you smile at him soothingly.

You step into the room first so you can see Brahms's reaction. You know it's nothing fancy or grand, but you want to make him feel comfortable and cared for. Even after all the things you did together and with each other, you want to make his first time special.

Brahms doesn't even know how to feel at the sight of your room. He can see the pale face of the moon through the window above your bed, which is full of soft pillows and warm blankets. Small lights hang from here and there, mixing with the dim glow of the lanterns. He had never seen anything so inviting and comfortable.

"What do you think?" You ask him after a while. Your heart thuds against your ribcage since you can't see his expression. "I love it," Brahms answers, caging you in his arms to pull you to his body. His chest is still bare, and your fingers rake through the soft hair. "I love you." "I love you too," you grin at him, kissing the cold lips of his mask. "Do you want to lay down a little?" You ask him. "We have snacks." Brahms follows you to the bed, resting his large body among the soft fabrics while you put the tray in the middle between your bodies. He still feels amazed because of everything you did for him. "Comfortable?" You ask. He nods. "Thank you." "Anything for my baby," you grin at him cheekily just to lighten the mood. "I'm glad you like it, though. And I'm proud of you for keeping your promise." "How do you know?" He asks, pushing his mask away a little to eat some grapes. The fruit pops under his teeth, flooding his mouth with its sweet taste. You shrug, not knowing how to answer. You just know it. Brahms became such a deep part of you that you simply feel him whether he is around you or not. But you are right, though. Brahms wanted to respect your wishes even if it drove him bad most of the day while he waited for you. "Do you want me to read you?" You ask him. "Just a few pages." Even though he is much more relaxed than before, you can still notice his fidgetiness. "Please." So you read him for a while, letting the remaining tension leave his body as he almost melts on the bed. Every now and again, you have to glance at him to check if he is still awake.

"Come here," he says when you pause for a second. "I want you close." Putting away the book, you crawl up on him to straddle his hips. "Do you feel better?" You ask him, playing with the hair on his chest. Your thumbs rub over his nipples a few times. "Yes," he hums, watching you. His shirt is big on you, but he can see the soft line of your breasts and the pretty pebbles of your nipples. He is already pulling on the fabric to get rid of it, but you stop him. "No," you say, and he can't help but be surprised. You never say no when he wants your tits. "What?" "I said no," you tell him. "We will learn new things today, Brahms." He doesn't like it but keeps quiet. You already did so much for him. "I know patience is not your strong suit, but we will work on it today." Oh, no, just not on my patience, he thinks, grimacing under his mask. "And we will learn about building," you grin. You don't have to see the man's face under you to know he doesn't like what you say. "Do you trust me, Brahms?" He nods without thinking. You are the only one in the whole world he fully trusts. "Then believe me when I say you will like it." He nods again.

Brahms watches you with interest as you grab a strawberry from the tray. The fruit is red and ripe. "Do you want to take off your mask?" You ask him. When he shakes his head, you continue. "Then push it out of the way a bit." He can do that. He lets you feed him fruit after fruit while he stares up at you the whole time. He is surprised at how intimate the act is despite its innocence. "Good boy," you break the silence after a while. "Now, the next step." You can feel his body tense under you with anticipation. Putting another strawberry in your mouth, you lean on his chest to reach his lips. For a second, Brahms just stares at you, not knowing what to do before smoothing his hand on your hips and accepting the fruit from your mouth. Both of you munch on it until your lips meet in a soft kiss. The edge of his mask pokes your face, and you want to take it off and throw it as far as you can but decide against it. It has to be Brahms's choice. "Do you want another one?" You ask him. Your words brush over his lips, and he wants another kiss but nods anyway. Repeating your previous actions, you stay capturing his lips with your own. You let yourself taste the fruit on his lips, licking into his mouth with a satisfied hum. Brahms's nerves are on edge as he lies under you, holding onto your hips while you play and tease him. He barely has time to deepen the kiss when you back away to nibble on his bottom lip, biting into the soft flesh softly and soothing the slight pain with your tongue. "Y/N," Brahms says your name with a dreamy sigh as your lips trail down on his bearded jaw and hairy chest. Your tongue flicks over one of his nipples, and he gasps at the new sensation. "Oh!" "Did you like it?" You grin at him, caressing his abs. He is warm under your palm and curious fingertips. "Yes," he grunts. The curve of your lips widens when you see him reaching up to his mask to tear it away from his face and letting it drop next to the bed. "And here is my handsome boy," you croon. "Hey." His heart flutters and the shade of his cheeks darken under your appreciative gaze. "Hey." You lean up to kiss him again, letting him dominate the motion for a few seconds. Your bottom still rests over his crotch. His erection twitches and throbs every time you rub against it as you move. "How are you feeling, Brahms?" You ask him while peppering his face with small pecks. His fire-marred skin is rough under your lips. "Good." Brahms stays with the easiest answer when he can't find the right words. He is excited and hungry for you, but at the same time, he feels soft, and his heart could burst out at any moment because of all the things you make him feel. Your nails crawl over the front of his body, sending goosebumps all over his skin as you move down until you hoover above his knees, and your face is level with the obvious tent in his pants.

The world starts to spin around Brahms with you in the focus when you tug on his pants, and his cock springs free. His desperate grunt is loud in the quiet room when you hold him in your hand and stroke up on his shaft. "I want to see you," he says breathlessly. For a second, you want to deny him but decide otherwise. Quickly, you get rid of his shirt while you stay bare on top of him.

You are so beautiful, he can't even breathe. Your skin looks soft under the dim lights, and every dip and curve of your body seems to beg for his touch. His palms tingle with the need to reach out for you. And he does. A moan escapes your lips when he sits up a little to knead one of your breasts. His thumb runs across your skin, following the curve of your flesh before rubbing over your nipple. "I want it in my mouth," he breaks the silence again, hoping you will give in to his wants once again. "Not yet," you shake your head. "I want to prepare you first." He feels prepared enough, though but can't argue when he chokes on his own saliva when you focus your attention back on his cock. For a long second, he hears nothing but the ringing of his ears as you stroke up and down on his length. Your thumb follows the line of one of his bulging veins until you reach the tip. "You are so pretty," you hum under your breath, still teasing the bulbous head of his cock. You can feel him throbbing in your hold. Brahms's chuckle is breathless and hoarse. "Me or my dick?" You grin. "Both. And you taste good, too." The man saw you take him in your mouth several times already, but the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips is still mesmerizing. You are warm and wet around him. Your tongue is flat against the underside of his shaft. "Y/N!" He gasps out your name, tightening his hold on the blankets around him. Black dots dance in front of his eyes as you suckle on him, gathering his pre-cum on your tongue to gulp every now and again. You take your time, though. You don't chase him to his orgasm, and he never imagined suffering so sweet.

A desperate whimper escapes his closed lips when you move away from his cock. He wants to cum so badly. "It's okay, Brahms," you coo, smoothing your hand over his chest. "You will get your reward for being so patient." The man watches with wide eyes as you settle back above his crotch. Your pussy is nestled against his cock, soaking him with your juices. Something curls in his stomach with anticipation as he stares at the motion of your hips. You rock back and forth, letting your wet heat slide over his cock repeatedly. The tip of his cock nudges your clit every time. "How do you want me, Brahms?" You ask him, panting. The slow pace you set is hard on you, too. Your pussy aches, and your walls flutter with need. After all these months, you want him inside you. Brahms's lips open, but no word comes out. His mind does not want to work. "Do you want me to stay on top?" You ask him. "Or you want to change position?" "Top," he grunts. Your hips rock and twist the whole time. "You." "Okay, baby," you nod.

Lifting yourself from his lap, you still hover above him with your hand between your legs this time. You slide your fingers over your pussy, rubbing your clit for a few seconds before pushing into your hole. A relieved sigh leaves your lips at the familiar stretch, but it's not near enough. You finger yourself above Brahms while the man can do nothing but grip the fabrics around him to keep himself from cumming. At this point, you don't even care about the slight pain you cause yourself. You add another and then a third finger until you are sure you are prepared enough to take his cock.

"Okay," you break the silence, mostly talking to yourself. You need several deep breaths to push down the impatience crawling up your spine. You want it soft and gentle, and if you lose your head, it will be anything but. "Are you ready?" You ask Brahms, glancing at his face. His eyes are glassy, and his lips open. Sweat sticks his curls to his forehead. "Yes," he grunts. "I want you, Y/N." "Good, love." Your smile is shaky. "I want you too." You never wanted anything so much in your life.

A heavy groan is punched out of him when he feels your entrance at the tip of his cock. Your hold on his shaft is steady and firm as you press him into you. You slide down on his slick cock inch by inch, enjoying the pressure in your walls and the way he slowly fills you up. Brahms doesn't even dare to breathe. He just lies under you, watching his cock disappearing in your tight hole. The noises escaping his throat are a mix of groans and whimpers. You are warm and wet around him, squeezing his cock all the way to the base. "How do I feel?" You ask, sitting on him with his whole cock in you. Your question is shaky. At this point, Brahms can't form words anymore. His brain is a mush of pleasure and need in his head. You envelop him tightly. He can feel himself rubbing against your inner walls as you start to rock your hips. They are small movements, but fireworks spark behind his closed eyelids at the feeling. A throaty groan is the only answer you get from him. "You can cum anytime you want, baby," you tell him, watching a vein bulging on his neck as he clenches his teeth together. "No," he growls, slipping his hands to your waist for a squeeze. He wants to feel your pussy when you cum around him. "But please," he continues, gasping. "Move!" To give some weight to his words, he grinds deep inside your wet hole. He reaches every nerve and every spongy spot that steals your breath away. "Fuck!" You wheeze, pushing down against him as you begin to rock back and forth on him more rapidly while his cock twitches and throbs.

"Brahms!" You cry out his name, bracing yourself on his chest as you lift yourself a little and drop back on his cock again. "Fuck!" You both groan at the same time. The man's hands slide up to your tits, palming and kneading your soft flesh. He works on you mindlessly, rubbing and pinching your nipples in reflex. "Again!" He demands, and you repeat your movement several times until you bounce on his cock with his hips pushing up in rhythm into your pussy. You can see as his stomach tightens and your juices soak the trimmed hair at the base of his shaft.

You feel light and drunk on his cock. Your eyes are half closed, and your limbs shake as you force yourself to move. Your pussy squeezes around the grith of Brahms's cock, wanting it to stay inside you until he floods you with his seed. Brahms wants that, too. There are moments as you grind to each other that he is sure his dick will fall off because of the way you work on him. There are no thoughts behind his teary eyes as he stares at you, moaning and groaning. His hold on your breasts is painfully tight, but you have no mind or energy to stop him as he slides in and out of your drenched pussy.

Your vision blurs as you gasp for air. "I'm gonna- I'm-" Your toes curl in pleasure, and the burning coil in your stomach snaps in two. Your pussy flutters around his cock as you reach your climax, still bouncing and rocking. You cry in ecstasy as you fall into a deep spiral, twitching and jerking. Pleasure flares in your veins as you fall apart on his erection while he bucks into you deeper. You can't even tell anymore where your moans end and where his groans start. Your walls clamp around his cock while he empties himself inside of you. Hot spurts of cum fill your hole, and every shot makes you tremble and cry some more.

Brahms's cock still jerks and twitches inside you when you go limp on his body. Your mixed juices flow out of your pussy, soaking his balls and the sheets on the bed. Your muscles burn, your pussy aches from the stretch, and your limbs tingle. And while you fight with your heavy eyelids, Brahms has to learn how to breathe again. His chest heaves under you, and a low groan escapes both of your lips when you lift yourself from him and let your body fall close next to his. "How do you feel?" You pant. "Fuck," he groans, holding your thigh in his hand. You are soft and sweet against him. You grin. "I'm glad." You want to put away the tray that is still on the bed behind you, but there is no way you can move.

"Thank you, Y/N," Brahms breaks the silence after a while. "It was… I just…" "I love you, too, Brahms," you hum, cupping his cheek and raking your finger through his thick beard until both of you fall asleep in each other's arms.

#brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire smut #the boy x reader #the boy imagine #kinktober 2023 #slasher fucker

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scoonsalicious · 8 days

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7.2 Bucky*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (oral (m receiving)).

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: Bucky surprised you with a night-time picnic. You exchanged dog tags, and now things have taken a sexy turn.

A/N: Fair warning, this and the next two sections are smut! Hurray!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky Barnes was convinced in that moment he’d died and gone to heaven. How else could he explain the sight before him? Major, on her knees, completely naked in the middle of the woods, save for his dog tags around her neck, body glowing under the candlelight of the lanterns as she palmed his aching erection through his jeans, telling him how much she wanted it down her throat.

But Bucky knew that a man who carried as many sins on his back as he did had no hope of finding paradise in the afterlife, so this could only be the real thing. He watched with mouth hanging open as Major crawled up his body, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. “Help a girl out and lift your hips, Sergeant?” she asked him with a smirk.

Bucky let out a low groan as he obliged, lifting his hips from the blanket so Major could pull his pants off his legs. Once she’d removed them, she tossed them aside atop her own pile of discarded clothes.

“Mmm,” she hummed, “you sure look pretty, Sarge. Let’s get that shirt off.” Bucky made a move to reach for the hem of his shirt, but Major tutted him. “Let me take care of you tonight,” she said. “You always do such a good job of making me feel good; I want to return the favor.” Her hands reached to his waist, dragging his shirt up and over his torso, then his head, and Bucky thought he was going to cum on the spot. He’d never been with a woman so… enthusiastic? Insatiable? Commanding? All of the above, he thought.

Once she had his shirt off, she leaned back on her haunches and studied him, licking her lips as she took him in. “I just want you to lay back and let me do all the work, okay?” she asked him.

Bucky found he couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat but did as Major asked, leaning back on his elbows so he could watch her. She locked eyes with him, and he expected her to take his briefs off of him the way she had his pants, but instead, she leaned down and began to nuzzle his cock with her cheek through the fabric.

He sucked in a breath as she drew her nose along his clothed length. As he grew harder, she began sucking open-mouthed kisses against him. While Bucky couldn’t wait to feel her warm mouth against his sensitive skin, the friction the fabric was providing as she worked on him was divine.

“Fuck, sugar,” he grunted as her palm rolled over him. The gray fabric of his boxer briefs was already dark with precum, but Major added to the growing wet patch with her saliva. “If I don’t get these off soon, it’s gonna be the second pair I’ve ruined because of you in two days.”

Major laughed, her mouth so close to Bucky’s groin, he could feel the vibration of it in dick. “Wouldn’t want that,” she said teasingly. “No washer and dryer out here in the woods. Though, I suppose you could rinse them out in the stream and I could fuck you until they’re dry.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky asked, his laugh turning into a gasp as Major rolled his boxer briefs down his hips, setting his erection free.

“Nope, just this fat cock,” Major said, winking at him. Once she’d slid his underwear down to his knees, she leaned forward and gave his cockhead a featherlight kiss. Bucky grunted and arched his back. Who knew the softest of touches could feel so fucking good?

Major licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of Bucky’s cock from the base to the tip, and Bucky nearly came right then. He tried to think of any and everything he could come up with to stave off his orgasm as Major took him fully into her mouth.

He settled on the 1941 Brooklyn Dodgers.

Major’s tongue around his tip, dancing over its weeping slit and Bucky bent his knees to brace himself against the ground…

Winning the Pennant for the first time in 21 years over the Cardinals.

Her cheeks hollowing as her mouth tightened around him, enveloping him in her warm heat…

Losing the World Series to the goddamn Yankees, 3 to 1 in the fifth and final game.

Her tongue sliding along the underside of his cock as her head began to bob back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Higbe and Wyatt pitching their best seasons.

The feeling of her nose brushing up against the curly hairs of his pubic bone…

Eight hundred runs, the highest in the league and – Jesus fucking Christ, was she actually swallowing around him?!

It was too much. Despite his best efforts, everything she was doing to him felt too wonderful, too euphoric for him to continue to think straight, let alone try and hold back. “Fuck, sugar, pull off; ‘m gonna cum,” he grunted, but Major didn’t retreat. If anything, her eyes took on a sardonic look and she gripped his thighs tighter and began moving her head faster than she had before. God, Bucky thought as he watched her from between his legs, she looked a vision, the way she was devouring him. With her eyes locked on his, and the flickering shadows dancing in the candlelight, she looked like something out of ancient myth, a goddess of fire and lust, of darkness and passion. And he was a willing sacrifice to her alter.

The candlelight reflecting off the silver tag around her neck that bore his name. Of all the mere mortals that roamed the planet, Major had selected Bucky Barnes to bestow upon him the honor of seeing her, like this, in all of her divine glory.

With a grunt that bordered on a growl, Bucky came at that thought– the thought that someone like her felt that he, of all people, was worthy. He could feel seemingly never-ending ropes of his cum spurt from his cock, and he was fully expecting Major to pull away– none of the other girls he had ever been with could seem to withstand the amount of cum the serum led him to produce, but Major? Major continued to suck him like he was a straw, as though she were trying to draw every ounce of cum out of Bucky’s balls and take it down her throat. And by the gleam in her eye, she seemed to actually be enjoying it.

After what felt like the longest orgasm of Bucky’s very long life, he finally stopped, his cock beyond sensitive. Bucky’s elbows gave out and he fell onto his back, gasping for breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum that hard. Gently, Major slid herself off of him. She wiped at her mouth gently with a hand, then moved to grab one of the extra blankets Bucky had brought for their picnic. She carefully draped it over him, then crawled up alongside his body to mold herself along his length.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tracing a gentle finger along the line of his jaw.

Bucky sucked in a gulp of air before turning to face her. “You…” he began, not even sure where he was going with his thought, he was so lost in the post-orgasmic fog of his brain, “you are fucking magic.”

Major pressed her forehead against Bucky’s shoulder and snickered. “If you say so,” she told him.

“I do say so,” Bucky said, still trying to catch his breath. “I just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” Major said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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itjazzbicch · 8 months

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Safe Haven

Pairing: Tomas “Smoke” Vrbada x Reader

First time writing for Smoke so I hope I did well!

Summary: Originally brought into the Lin Kuei as the reader was arranged to marry Bi-Han, they learn that he is not the man they thought him to be and when he goes off the deep end, the reader seeks help from someone in the Lin Kuei that they have true feelings for…

Warnings: Arranged marriage situation, MK1 Spoilers obvi, reader has a break down

Word Count: 0.7k

Being arranged to marry Bi-Han of the Lin Kuei, I thought this new chapter of my life would be the beginning of many good ones.

That turned out to be far from what I expected. Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the lover that I was looking for.

Although he became grandmaster and I was soon to be his spouse, he had business to handle with Lord Lui Kang and I had no knowledge of what exactly was going on.

Not till Bi-Han returned, claiming his brothers Kuai Liang and Tomas were no longer a part of the Lin Kuei, and that he’d no longer be working with Lord Lui Kang.

Any question I had, he didn’t answer, told me that it was none of my concern.

Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the man I dreamed of being with my entire life. I already doubts in the past and this was my breaking point.

He must’ve forgotten that I was a highly skilled martial artist like himself. One night when he finally rested, I snuck out, needing to find Tomas.

I learned that he and Kuai were making their own clan, the Shirai Ryu, and looking to take down Bi-Han and restore the Lin Kuei.

There was so much I needed to get off my chest and I knew I could do so with Tomas. Out of their entire clan, I bonded with him the most and I knew that he’d help me.

It didn’t take me long to reach the Shirai Ryu’s minka, stumbling upon a beautiful garden full of red trees, lit in the night by lanterns.

“Y/N?” Tomas’s voice alone had me ready to burst into tears, running to him, “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?”

“I’ve been following you, but it’s not what you think,” I said quickly, fighting tears and running out of breath, “I can’t stand Bi-Han anymore. I can’t take it. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to be in his Lin Kuei anymore.”

“Y/N, breathe. Try to calm down,” Holding my shoulders, trying his best to comfort me, “Are you-“

I already knew what he was going to ask and cut him off with tears flowing down my face:

“I’m positive and mean every word I say, Tomas. You don’t know him like I do and just how terrible he is. I don’t want to go back. Please-“

“Shh, it’s okay,” He whispered, pulling me into a warm hug, “I believe you.”

His hug was everything I needed and more, my tears slowed and after some deep breaths, I didn’t feel so weak and brittle anymore, answering his question from before:

“I have been doing work of my own while Bi-Han has been gone. That’s how I found this place. So I could come talk to you.”

“Showing off your skill I see,” He smiled while rubbing my back, trying to raise my spirit, holding up my head some to connect a gaze, growing serious again as he asked, “I know you’re upset and dealing with a lot right now, but everything you said, you’re sure that you mean it?”

“Tomas,” I breathed in deeply, failing at fighting my tears as I confessed, “He’s never loved me. The only thing that kept me there was you, b-because, I love you.”

I didn’t realize at first how big his pupils expanded, my heart pouring and continuing to confess:

“You’re the one who always made sure that I was okay, spent time with me, made me feel special, instead of treating me like some object. I’m sorry I waited till now to tell you. I was just so scared of Bi-Han and now he’s completely lost it and I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“It’s okay,” He breathed, thinking and pulling back into his hug, his whisper making me cry silently, “Im so glad that you came to me.”

The tears wouldn’t stop coming, shaking as a chilled wind blew past us in the garden, but those shakes coming to halt as his embrace grew a bit tighter and warmer, his voice helping me ease down:

“You don’t have to worry about Bi-Han anymore. You never have to go back. Never.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with you,” I whispered, looking up from his shoulder as he whispered back:

“Don’t trouble yourself thinking about it. I love you too much to let you go back to that monster of a man.”

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

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ckret2 · 2 months

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Chapter 47 of human Bill Cipher thinking that being imprisoned in the Mystery Shack is looking pretty good right now:

The Eclipse: Part 5

Bill and Ford are just... so energized and enthusiastic after their near death experience. Not to mention fashionable.

But they've got nothing on Dipper.

And, at long last, Ford and Dipper badger Bill—who's just too tired to lie—into explaining what kind of an "eclipse" involves a giant flying axolotl making gravity disappear.

####

When they reached the cave, Ford discovered that his antique lantern was too waterlogged to light.

"I'm not sure how we're getting to the top now," Ford said. The cavern directly behind the waterfall had some ambient lighting, but it wouldn't carry very far. "I know you can see, but I don't trust you to lead me through a cave system in the dark, no offense." He was surprised at himself for saying no offense.

"If I was planning to let you fall off a cliff, I could've saved myself a swim in the lake." Bill had taken off his backpack and was rummaging through it. "Didn't your lantern go out when you took four-eyes hiking through here? You should have learned your lesson."

Bill must have meant Fiddleford, though it was strange to hear him single out Fiddleford as "four-eyes" when Ford wore glasses too. "I did learn my lesson. I brought three flashlights as backup," Ford said. "Which are in Dipper's backpack."

Bill laughed weakly.

"Did you bring a flashlight?"

"Better." Bill pulled out a kazoo. He blew a stream of water from it, shook it, and then took a deep breath and played a long high note that wavered up and down.

Ford cringed at the noise. "Bill, what—?"

Bill held up a finger to silence Ford. Okay, fine. He was curious now.

It took a few moments of increasingly irritating kazoo playing, but Ford heard a soft clinking sound coming from the deeper caverns; and then several geodites—small creatures that looked like stone orbs with crystal limbs and teeth and glowing eyes—curiously emerged into the main cavern. Ford hadn't seen these creatures since he'd documented them in the eighties. He hadn't known they could be summoned via kazoo. They began making a high pitched humming along with Bill's kazooing.

"There you are." Bill stuffed the kazoo into his backpack and crouched down, holding out a hand until a couple of geodites crept closer to inspect it; and then he scooped up the closest one. The others startled into breaking off singing, but hovered nearby, chirping and clicking. "Okay, grab a flashlight." The light the geodites' eyes gave off wasn't very bright; but it was enough for Ford to see Bill's smug smirk. They proceeded into the caves, and a dozen-odd more geodites—perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps out of concern for the two hostages—followed along behind them.

The climb went much slower than it had just a few hours earlier. Unsurprisingly, without low gravity on his side, Bill was the holdup this time. Not only was he not as experienced in spelunking as Ford, but between his waterlogged dress shoes and his borrowed trout slippers he didn't have any appropriate footwear, and he'd elected to carefully climb barefoot again. When Ford had climbed up this path with Fiddleford in the 80s, it had been a six hour climb. He had no idea how long it would take with Bill.

But even at that, Ford hadn't expected Bill to need to pause so often to get his energy back. It seemed like the more Ford recovered from their fall in the lake, the weaker Bill got. In any other situation, he'd suspect Bill of slowing them down on purpose, but after... well, even that aside, Ford couldn't think of any reason Bill would want to delay getting home.

"It's just this body that's dizzy," Bill said, the fourth time they had to stop for him to sit. "Probably one of those... counterproductive stress reactions human bodies get." He wiped a film of sweat off his forehead, then stopped to examine how his hand trembled when his geodite's spotlight eyes fixed on it. "That or it's because I've only had a handful of cereal for the past two days."

Ford stared at him. "You what? Why?"

Bill shrugged. "Body wouldn't let me get more down. Wasn't my idea."

"Well, for goodness's sake, eat something now."

Bill took off his backpack, pulled out a cereal box, and opened it. He grimaced. He poured out a puddle of sugary lake water and dissolved cereal.

Of course. "Here." Ford pulled a tube of astronaut meat out of his backpack and offered it over. "It's not the most nutritionally complete meal supplement, but it's something. It'll have protein."

Bill took the tube with a grimace, but squeezed out a dollop of meat paste and licked it; and then he gagged so hard he doubled over. He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from retching and offered the tube back. "Mmmf." The geodite hopped out of his lap in alarm and retreated to the group of hangers-on traveling with them.

The meat paste wasn't great, but that was a disproportionate reaction out of the alien who liked to mix chocolate sauce and mustard. This was a bigger problem than Ford had anticipated. "Keep it. If you can get down even a tiny bit every few minutes, that's better than nothing."

Bill nodded jerkily.

"I think it's better if we reach Dipper and get out of here as soon as possible."

Bill nodded more enthusiastically.

What would they do if Bill couldn't make it the whole way? Would Ford have to leave him in the cave and come back for him later? Ford hadn't tied the infinity belt's cable to Bill like he'd meant to, he just realized. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to try now; but it might be useful if he did have to leave Bill behind. He didn't know that they had any better option, he couldn't carry Bill all the way up and down. Especially since Bill had let go of his geodite, and Ford suspected the rest might abandon them if he put down his own...

They'd have to figure that out if it came to it. For now, they kept walking—Ford glancing back regularly to check on Bill, and Bill pretending he didn't notice.

####

After another half hour and another two increasingly frequent breaks, Ford saw a faint light in the tunnels ahead—yellow-white, not like the geodites' natural blues and purples. "Bill, is that...?"

"Hm?" Bill looked in the direction Ford was pointing. His right eye twitched, and then he had to squeeze his eyes shut in pain. "Yep. Boy child at 12 o'clock."

Ford called out, "Dipper?"

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper's voice echoed through the caves. There was a sound of clattering rocks as Dipper scrabbled down the tunnel to join them. The geodites scattered in fear, peering out from behind stalagmites as Dipper's flashlight swept over the scene. "Grunkle Ford! Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Are you—?"

Dipper collided with Ford to hug him. (Ford held his geodite out to the side so he could return a one-armed hug.) "I'm so sorry I saw you go over the cliff but I couldn't do anything I was in the mindscape the whole time something sucked my soul out of my body—"

"Not it, I'm innocent," Bill said unnecessarily, "nobody look at me." He'd taken advantage of the break to immediately sit on the ground. His abandoned geodite crept back over to check on him.

"—and—and wow, that was the Axolotl you were talking about, right?" Dipper let go of Ford to gesture like a fisherman demonstrating the size of an enormous catch, "It was huge, it had to be—I don't know, as long as the county? The whole state? How did it get so big? Is the Axolotl an alien or some kind of mutant Earth axolotl? Are all axolotls aliens—?"

"Now, hold on," Ford said, putting a hand on Dipper's shoulder, "what huge axolotl? What are you talking about?"

"You didn't see it?" Dipper paused, looked Ford up and down, and said, "What are you wearing?"

Ford grimaced, tugged his bandanna up a little higher, and turned his geodite away when it tried to aim its spotlight eyes at his neck to see what he was doing. "We had to borrow some dry clothes."

"He couldn't see the Axolotl," Bill said. "You shouldn't have, either."

"Sor-ry. Getting sucked out of my body wasn't my idea—"

"Hold on," Ford said again. "What do you mean, sucked out of your body?"

As they headed back down toward the waterfall, Dipper and Ford exchanged their versions of events. It didn't take long for them to realize Bill had saved both their lives with a swift efficiency that, had it been applied to any less altruistic a task, could have been called "ruthless." They didn't say anything, but neither one could stop from glancing back toward Bill.

"What?" he snapped, clinging to his geodite a little tighter like he thought they were planning to take it. "I don't owe you an explanation. You're not dead! Be grateful. Stop looking at me."

They stopped looking at him. Bill should be gloating about them owing him their lives. He should be convincing them they had to pay back their debt. Silence alone would have been worrying; but bristling like he wanted them to forget what he'd done was baffling.

As Dipper finished explaining his version of events, he said, "I think I remember meeting the Axolotl before—like you said." He directed this last comment back over his shoulder toward Bill.

Bill—whose entire attention had been focused for the last ten minutes on walking without collapsing, tripping, or dropping his geodite—simply muttered, "My condolences."

"Wait," Ford said, "You've... met a giant invisible axolotl before?"

"Mabel and I both did."

"When?"

Dipper opened his mouth, paused, and glanced back again at Bill for help.

It took a few seconds for Bill to register the question. "Oh—they've never met before. Not in this reality."

Exasperated, Dipper asked, "Then why do I remember it?"

"I told you—echoes," Bill said. When Dipper continued giving him an expectant look, Bill sighed deeply and said, "This is an embarrassing oversimplification, but you're at least familiar with the concept of branching timelines, right?"

"Of course I am. Every time you make a decision, the timeline splits into two paths—"

"Cute that you think it caps out at two," Bill said. "And a decision doesn't always split the timeline, sometimes the branches collapse back together depending on the gravity of the decision you made. I don't literally mean a decision 'you' made—you've never made a decision that important—but sure, you've got the basic idea."

"Fine," Dipper snapped. "So I met it on another branch, right? When?"

"Never," Bill said.

"Okay. Yes. But there is a branch where... some version of me met it. Right?"

"It depends on how you define 'is.'"

Dipper puffed out his cheeks with the effort of restraining a yell. He looked at Ford for either help or sympathy.

Ford winked surreptitiously at Dipper and said, "It's probably some complicated chronological issue. I doubt Bill can explain it in a way humans can understand." Under his breath, he loudly muttered, "Some 'teacher.'"

Bill straight-armed Ford aside to walk beside Dipper. "You humans have no sense of humor," he said. "I said you met him never because it's literally true. You had an accident that landed you in a time and space outside time and space—the meeting happened never and nowhere. It's where he prefers to take visitors. That timeline terminated after your meeting—and I don't mean you died, I mean he terminated that entire timeline."

"Really?" Dipper shivered. "With... With everyone in it? Why did he do that? Did something dangerous happen in that timeline, or was it unstable, or...?"

"That's how he usually ends casual meet-and-greets," Bill said. "Higher dimensional beings. He sees your reality from a perspective unimaginable to you. Remember when I told you you're just a movie projecting on a wall to him; he's got no problem with pulling the film out of the reel to inspect a few frames and then turning the entire projector off when he's done. What does he care if that's somebody's entire reality?" He paused to think that over. "Maybe the projector metaphor's getting strained. Imagine flipping through a book with all the pages out of order, and meeting him is like somehow flipping to a page outside the book... No, that's a little too contrived. I'll stick with the projector."

"When did we... when would we have met him?" Dipper asked. "And—when I say 'when' I mean—you know what I mean."

"You mean, when would you have made the decisions that could have led to you meeting him? Depending on your perspective, either last August or 207̃05. Time travel was involved."

"Last August..." Dipper thought back. "Was that when we were—?"

"Treasure hunting, yeah. By the by, I never asked—" Bill gestured vaguely around them at everything in general, "—which dimension did I end up in? Is this the one where you went hunting in the 1400s or 1800s?"

"Uh—1800s."

"Hm. Knew this wasn't a 207̃05 treasure hunt timeline, Questiony doesn't have a pet enslaved time pirate."

"A what?"

"So you never had a chance of meeting the Axolotl anyway," Bill said. "Hey, fun fact! Did you know there's a time pocket where twelve million alternate versions of you, your sister, and the puppet with the goggles failed at your quest and plummeted out of time? I wonder how long the last of them survived! I meant to check in after Weirdmageddon. Human flesh isn't that nutritious and doesn't have much water, but with millions of bodies and a little determination— Hey, wanna know how long you all were there before you started resorting to cannibalism—?"

"No," Ford said before Dipper had to. "And I'll thank you not to get off topic to try to give my gnephew more nightmares."

Bill shot him a sideways glance. "Remind me to tell you about the time pocket formed by all the timelines where you and Specs did your first portal test without checking your math."

"So if I wasn't even supposed to meet him—how did I see him today?" Dipper asked. "Did he pull me out of my body into the mindscape so we could talk, or...? But he didn't even tell me anything, was he just trying to get me to remember meeting him in the terminated timeline—?"

"He wasn't trying to do anything," Bill said. "He wasn't here for you, he didn't care. Shadow on the wall."

"Then what was he here for? You?"

It took Bill too long to answer. He just shrugged vaguely. "Probably not."

"Huh." Instead of questioning Bill, Dipper briefly turned introspective himself, gaze far away and thoughtful. "I think I remember a little more about meeting the Axolotl now. The first time, I mean."

"Oh, do you?" Bill asked. "Ha! Poor kid."

"Mabel and I were in some kind of rocket car?" Dipper's brows furrowed in concentration. "And the Axolotl had a... bean bag chair?"

Bill scoffed. "He still has that old thing?! Wow."

"It was really comfortable."

"It's also really tacky."

"You talked about him like he was some kind of... of big... eldritch cosmic horror thing," Dipper said. "What kind of a cosmic horror has bean bag chairs?"

"What, do you think being a vast multidimensional amphibious monstrosity with an incomprehensible mind and a body that can only been seen in lower dimensions as grotesque shapeshifting cross-sections protects you from having bad taste? He'll flay your sanity straight out of your gray matter—and you won't even have the comfort of knowing your mind-shredder had nice interior decor sensibilities!"

"I can sympathize with the experience," Ford muttered. "I was driven to the brink of paranoid madness by a nightmare demon who thinks Doric columns go with checkerboard flooring."

Bill let out a shrill "Ha!" and smacked Ford's shoulder.

"But he remembered me when we met," Dipper went on. "He told me to say hi to Mabel. And—the last time we met, we—talked. I don't remember it all yet, but... you were wrong about him. There was nothing insanity-inducing about him. He was just... nice."

"You don't think the madness sets in all at once, do you?" Bill turned back to Dipper, with an air of what Ford uncomfortably felt like was ill intent. "Go on then—what did you talk about? You can't remember it, can you? Why not? Just a harmless little conversation, right?"

Dipper frowned in thought. "There was something important, but—I can't remember what it was. What was it?" He muttered, "I know it was something important—"

"And there we go!" Bill gestured at Dipper with a flourish, triumphant. "Now you're digging for the significance of the whole thing. You're trying to comprehend the motives of something that has a state of existence your mind wasn't built to understand! You'll either go mad trying to understand his motives—or you'll go mad because you do understand. You're doomed now, kid—this is gonna haunt you for the rest of your days." He laughed. "Try to stop thinking about it now while you're ahead!"

"I'm not going insane," Dipper said. "Just shut up, I'm trying to remember."

"'I'm not obsessed, I swear! I can stop thinking about it any time I want!' Sure."

"Shut up," Dipper repeated. "It had to have been something important! Otherwise why would he dragged me out of my body and—and shown me the fourth dimension just so I could meet him?"

"Don't sound so self-important! You never saw the fourth dimension; if you had, you wouldn't think he looks like an axolotl. He visited this dimension's mindscape," Bill said. "And he didn't even mean to drag you into the mindscape! It was just a side-effect of his gravitational pull. He tugged you toward him just like everything else in town; but Earth'sgravity doesn't extend through planes like the mindscape, and his does. Yanked your spirit right out of your body."

"Then why was I the only one?" Dipper demanded. "Why didn't you or Grunkle Ford leave your bodies?"

"Your spirit's more loosely attached to your body than ours."

"Why?!"

For a moment, Bill's face twisted with displeasure; and then he sighed in resignation. "Ah, heck with it. You've been astral projecting."

Dipper's mouth worked uselessly. He croaked, "What?"

"It's when you—"

"I know what it is! I mean—what? How? When?"

"At least as long as I've been here. How long have you been having those out-of-body dreams?"

"Y—!" Dipper socked Bill's arm. Bill didn't even flinch. "You said those were nightmares!"

"And I lied," Bill said tiredly.

"Why?!"

"Thought you'd be annoying about it."

"I've been dealing with this all year, you—!" Dipper groaned in aggravation. "Why am I astral projecting! I wasn't trying to learn or anything!"

"How should I know, I wasn't around. Best guess, I think I ripped up the Velcro sticking your soul to your body when I yanked you out to puppet it," Bill said. "Oops."

Dipper gaped at him in outrage. "'Oops'?! That's all you can— I've been terrified and I thought it was a nightmare and it was real all along and it was all your fault and you won't even—"

"I knew you'd be annoying."

"I'm annoying?! How would you like it if you'd spent a year getting dragged out of your body in your sleep—!"

Bill abruptly stopped walking, turned toward Dipper, and said with an intensity that startled Dipper into silence, "You don't have the slightest idea how much I'd like it. How would you like it if you'd been trying for weeks t—" Bill cut himself off before he could get more heated; and instead, only said, "If you. Wanted to get out of your body. And couldn't. And some brat down the hall is doing it without even trying."

Dipper remained frozen, jaw locked tight in a grimace, until Bill turned away and trudged on. Dipper snapped, "But I don't want to do it. And it's your fault I am."

"Great. Nobody's satisfied." Bill sighed. "Make the most of it. Watch late night TV. Learn to meditate or something, I don't care. You've got nothing to worry about, it's harmless." He paused. "As long as nothing else crawls in your body while you're outside of it."

"WHAT?!"

"It's fine. Nothing'll get you in the shack through the unicorn hair barri... hm. Well—you're safe in the shack."

"But I have to go home at the end of summer! Will something be able to get me then?!"

Bill shrugged. "Hypothetically."

"Am I gonna die?!"

"Given my understanding of human mortality? Sure, sooner or later. Wanna hear your top five most likely causes of death?"

"No! Is it possible to—to stop? Can I control the astral projecting?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess. Ask me next time you're out of your body. I'll show you"

"Can't you show me n—"

"No. Not while you're in your body."

Dipper scowled. "Fine! Next time I'm projecting, I'm kicking you awake until you help me." He turned away from Bill; and, after a moment of fuming, mumbled to himself, "If I've been astral projecting... then that time I visited the neighbors... oh, man..." He trailed off, getting lost in his own thoughts.

Keeping silent during that discussion had been agony for Ford.

Every few seconds, he'd wanted to butt in either to eagerly ask for more information about the Axolotl or astral projection, or—far more often—to express his rage on Dipper's behalf, that Bill (of course!) had put him through this, and then not even had the decency (of course!) to try to rectify it.

But it was Dipper's conversation. It was about Dipper's problem, and anyway Dipper had been trying so long to pry some sort of useful information out of Bill—it would be cruel of Ford to snatch the conversation away from him when he was finally getting somewhere. He'd have a lot to discuss with Dipper once they were home and could get away from Bill.

But staying outside the conversation had let him observe three points he might have otherwise missed.

One: Bill really wasn't himself. Back when he'd been playing as Ford's muse, whenever he got to answer questions, he'd always done it with an air of theatricality and barely-suppressed glee; and after he'd given up that act, he'd answered questions with smug arrogance, the glee turned to sadistic delight at the bad news he could deliver. Now, he simply answered them. Even his attempts to be condescending gradually got less enthusiastic until they petered out completely.

Two: Bill was answering questions he never would have answered that morning. After telling them as little as he could about the thing coming to Gravity Falls, even trying to avoid admitting it was the Axolotl, now he was freely talking about the Axolotl's taste in furniture as though he knew the beast personally. After hiding that Dipper was astral projecting for over a month, he simply told him. Heck with it. He'd admitted it was probably his fault. He'd said the last two words Ford had ever thought he'd hear come out of Bill's mouth: I lied.

Three: this was the longest Bill had walked without needing a break all day. His voice was stronger. His steps were more steady. Ford had even seen him squeeze out a few dollops of astronaut paste between comments—and he struggled to make himself swallow, but he didn't gag.

And now that Dipper had stopped asking him about the Axolotl and about astral projection, Bill's footing was growing less certain again. He wove unsteadily on the path and had to pause to lean a hand on a stalactite, taking deep breaths. "Gimme a second."

Bill was distracting himself. He was keeping himself going through conversation, the simple ritual of receiving and answering questions. Ford understood: sometimes, in desperate circumstances, you had to burn yourself out to get somewhere safe enough to collapse and recover. When you had no choice but to push yourself, the best thing you could do was think about anything but your exhausted, failing body. It made it easier to keep moving and burn through what energy you had left.

Ford had once wondered if his "muse" was some manner of creature that was compelled to answer the questions his protégés asked him. This was perhaps the closest Bill had ever gotten to actually being such an entity: answering questions because he had to to go on, and willing to give away almost anything as long as it kept him moving.

Ford stopped next to Bill. "So. The Axolotl was the source of your 'gravitational eclipse,' I suppose."

"Astute observation," Bill said flatly.

"I take it that it isn't 'eclipsing' gravity so much as canceling it out. The Axolotl must have a mass similar to Earth's, if the force it exerts flying by above us is nearly identical to the force of Earth below us."

"More or less."

"But according to Dipper's observations, this Axolotl is only the size of Oregon at most. Did he underestimate its size? Or perhaps it's incredibly dense...?"

Bill gave Ford a sharp sideways glance. Were this any other conversation on any other day, this would be when the gloating started. Well, well, well, look who finally believes I was telling the truth, finally crawling back to me to give you all the answers you can't find yourself— But Bill only looked away again, pushed himself back upright, and kept walking. "You're the square looking at the sphere and thinking it's a circle," Bill said. "The majority of the Axolotl's mass is in dimensions you can't see. The little bit of him that's visible in the mindscape is just a... a feeler. Or an anglerfish's lure. The rest of him is close enough to exert a gravitational pull—but not in a dimension you can see."

"Which dimensions does he exist in?"

"I can't tell you because your species knows so little about them that the answer wouldn't mean anything. You haven't even decided whether or not you want to officially call the dimension that time shines from the 'fourth' dimension—I could tell you he comes from the seventeenth dimension and it wouldn't mean anything but an impressively high number to you."

Dubiously, Ford asked, "Does he come from the seventeenth?"

Bill waved a hand vaguely. "Heck if I know. The most I've ever seen at once is nine, and I was on a lot of psychedelics at the time. My eyeball popped."

"Eugh."

"Worth it, though. If you ever wanna feel cosmically insignificant in the most breathtakingly beautiful way possible, and you don't mind going blind, let me know. I think I can remember most of what I was on."

"Pass," Ford said. "If the Axolotl is so enormous, then why was only Gravity Falls affected by its gravity? At a minimum, shouldn't have the rest of the Pacific Northwest been impacted—if not the whole planet?"

"He wasn't near the rest of the Pacific Northwest. In the third dimension, Gravity Falls is obviously connected to Oregon; but in higher dimensions, it's..." He tried unsuccessfully to pantomime something mountainlike. "Imagine if the second dimension were a flat sheet of stretchy fabric. If somebody plucked the fabric up in the middle and made a peak, a creature living on the surface of the fabric would still be able to travel across its slope like it was flat, right?"

Ford tried to visualize Bill's description. "Right."

"And so if a fly flew past the peak of the fabric, it'd cross near whatever town's at that peak without getting near the towns at the bottom of the slope."

"Rrright."

"That's what Gravity Falls looks like from the fourth dimension," Bill said. "In the third dimension you can't see anything, but to fourth dimensional beings it sticks out of the fabric of spacetime like a thousand mile high pillar in the middle of a desert. That's why Time Baby put his capitol here."

Now, Ford wasn't sure that sounded right, but he didn't know enough about the seventeenth-or-whatever dimension to dispute it. "And why you kept trying to punch through to our dimension from here?" he guessed. "I imagine stretching the fabric of spacetime that far might make it easier to tear."

Bill shot him a sour look, but didn't deny it.

"Why did the gravity go down slowly for two days and then come back all at once? Did the Axolotl just leave faster than it came?"

"You know how the Doppler effect works?"

Ford hesitated. "Yes. Obviously."

"Well, in higher dimensions, gravity works like a reverse Doppler effect. It spreads out in front of a moving object—"

"Oh, come on."

"—and compresses behind the object—"

"Now you're just making up scientific-sounding nonsense because you know I can't disprove it."

"I'm not, and as soon as you get me a pen and paper I can prove it." Loftily, Bill said, "There's a simple equation that can explain higher dimensional gravity."

Ford was pretty sure he was being made fun of. He didn't mean to laugh, but he did. Dipper looked at him like he'd lost his mind; but trying to explain what was so funny would probably just make him look more insane.

Bill looked nearly as surprised.

####

"... And the smaller axolotls, what are they—heralds, worshipers? Children?"

Bill scoffed in disgust, "I don't know, I've never asked him. I see them like the flies orbiting a cow's tail. They migrate with him, that's all I know."

"Then the Axolotl really was just 'migrating'?"

"Well. Migrating in the sense that a mayfly watching a human walk back and forth to the office thinks it must be 'migrating.' He has..." Bill gestured vaguely, "duties, that mandate he travel fixed routes through the multiverse. He just happens to have a years-long workday. His commute doesn't usually take him past 46'\."

"'Duties' as in... divine duties?"

"It depends on if you worship him for doing them. I don't."

The cavern was growing light again, and the distant waterfall was audible. Ford quietly sighed in relief. Even as oddly forthcoming as Bill had been, Ford doubted that even two-thirds of the information he'd shared was true. But it was hard to tell. It had always been hard to tell.

Dipper helped Ford deflate the raft and pack it up. As he did, he said, voice low, "Is it just me, or is Bill kinda...?"

Ford cast a sideways glance across the cavern. Bill was crouched in front of the geodite he'd carried all up and down the tunnel, backpack in his lap, pouring a pile of soggy cereal onto the ground for the geodite to eat. Ford was surprised he'd gotten so attached to the creature. "I think he's been in some state of mental shock since the fall in the lake," Ford said. "And it seems he hasn't been able to keep down a full meal since we left yesterday. I suspect he's barely on his feet. The sooner we can get him back to the shack, the better."

"Oh." Dipper frowned toward Bill. (He was now pouring cold medicine on the cereal. Ford would have to ask him about geodite diets.)

"What are you thinking?"

Dipper shook his head. "I just thought... He seems like he's thinking about something. And he's giving so much away... I don't know. I wanted him to talk, but now it makes me wonder if he's scheming something."

From what Ford had seen, at the moment he doubted Bill could so much as scheme a way to ruin a picnic. But now he was second-guessing his perception. Ford knew Bill better than anyone; but that also meant Bill knew how to manipulate Ford better than anyone. What was Dipper seeing that he didn't? "Really? Do you think so?"

Dipper hesitated. "I—thought so? Maybe not." (Well, now they were both second-guessing themselves.) "I just don't know why he'd tell us so much if he isn't up to something. It feels like a distraction."

"Ah." Ford nodded. "I think the distraction is for himself."

"Mm." (Ford wasn't sure if Dipper had heard him.) "I just feel like there's—something. I can feel it in the back of my head." He stared at Bill a moment longer; then shook his head and turned away. "Maybe it's not him, maybe it's the Axolotl. He said something I can't remember. Something about degrees."

"Degrees?"

But Dipper didn't reply. He'd returned to his work, lost in his own head, mumbling under his breath the way he did whenever he was trying to work something out. Something else for Ford to ask about later.

When they got in Tate's loaned motorboat to head back out, Dipper got a look at the rainbow trout slippers Bill had put back on, and let out a choked laugh of surprise; and then that was the last sound any of them made as they crossed the lake. Ford steered, Dipper remained lost in his own thoughts, and Bill stared at his friendship bracelet, thumb running around the glass evil eyes.

####

(Finally a few mysteries solved! I hope y'all enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing what you think. Next week is another emotionally wrenching chapter!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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websterss · 5 months

Text

𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: okay so i’ve thought about sending requests your way and my mind came up blank except for a reversed-roles kinda thing for lockwood & co, in which that scene from the last episode where lucy goes to george to save him from the crazy lady (forgot her name) with the bone mirror, instead it’s reader but she doesn’t handle it as well as lucy and pass out or something (your choice, i just want angst) and although lockwood has been shot in the shoulder, he doesn’t care. all he cares about is if reader is gonna be okay 👀 (i just want some good ol’ angst written by you so i can die a little bit inside but also thrive in reading your writing 🥺🫶🏼)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, some fluff at the end

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,214

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You didn’t quite know how you three had managed to end up locked in an underground cellar with Pamela. You couldn’t so much as put the fault onto George. He had put his sole faith and trust into their supposed friendship. He was too swayed by what he thought were good intentions, only to realize they were nothing but sick twisted purposes. Purposes that were going to put so many others at risk.

“Please!” George begged. “Lucy, don't he’ll kill you.”

“Don’t you dare look, and whatever happens this wasn’t your fault. This was my choice.”

“Lucy, don't you dare.” You groan after having been jostled and shoved to the ground as George had.

Lucy just turned to you, her features softening as she whispered with pure sincerity and concern in her voice. Her soft-as-the-sky eyes glowed in the darkness like twin lanterns and with a little sigh she replied, “…I have to.”

"No. You don't. We all get to make choices, and I'm making mine now." You walk up to her and hit her with the hilt of your rapier. You hold your breath as she falls unconscious. You're quick to drag her over to George where he remains on the ground. "S-Shield her eyes, and whatever happens...don't look." You nod firmly at George.

George didn’t hesitate, shielding Lucy from the horror unfolding before them, but couldn’t help looking back to you. He seemed both concerned and terrified at the same time. “Lockwood won't like this!"

"He'll get over it!" You take your place in front of the mirror. Eyes flickering back and forth between Pamela and the covered mirror.

The air around you feels thick and oppressive. You feel sick and dizzy as the sense of impending doom and horror fills your body with a paralyzing chill. You look at the mirror, at Pamela, and the thought of what is to come sears across your mind.

You take a deep breath. With shaking hands, you await her response. “Tell me everything you see, what you feel, and what you hear.” She yanks a pin out from her hair. Then points the recorder towards you. “Every detail.” She says as a final word, then yanks back the cloth. You turn around immediately, feeling a rush of air and suction claw on the back of your hair and shoulders. “Look, look, look. Damn you, look!” Pamela exclaims.

You gasp as you reach forward, grabbing the silver-glass jar, the skull, and hold it out behind you to look at the mirror in your place.

"If you can talk to it, tell me what it says.”

You groan, closing your eyes tightly, trying to fight off the urge to look into the horrid mirror. You growl as you yell back to the damned skull. "Talk...Take it all in and tell your master what you see." Lockwood and George, even Lucy had been astonished when you all discovered that you could also communicate and hear the type three ghost. Your heart plummets as you hear the skull begin to wail.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right! Something’s changed!” Your breath shudders upon the information he has given you. “They’re trapped!”

“What? What? What is he saying? Speak, girl Speak!” Pamela grips her recorder tighter.

“It says something is wrong!”

“More!”

“It’s a trap. We have to destroy it!” You begin to whimper as it all grows to be too much for you to handle. You hold your breath as glimpses of your past flash in your mind. Stills of your parents before your tenth birthday. Finding them ghost-locked after coming home from Fittes. Horrid wretched flashes and faces of previous visitors you and the boys were called on to take a job about. Being pinned by a type two. Your breath grows cold upon being nearly ghost-locked yourself. But the one vision that struck you the most, that made you lose your grip on making it through this was seeing yourself hold Anthony in your arms as his eyes were milky, his brown irises glazed over white and still. You could see yourself crying and begging him to come back to you. Your eyes shot upon with a startle. You could feel yourself loosen your hold on the jar before you took it down with you to the ground. All you could hear was a faint yell of your name before you slipped into the dark void that clouded your mind.

“Y/n!” George hadn’t even hesitated to get onto his feet to tackle down the stand holding the mirror.

“No!” Pamela cries out. George ran back over to where you lay unconscious. His hands were still tied behind his back but he still attempted to check for your pulse. He visibly relaxed as he came to feel your pulse thump against his skin.

“You’re alright, you’re alright now...Lockwood will come soon and it’ll all be over soon.” He flinched, looking over his shoulder as he heard shuffling to his right. Lucy groaned, clutching at her head as she pushed herself off the ground.

“Blood hell...” She complained, but one look at your unmoving body had her scooting closer to the two of you. She reached forward, brushing a few strands out from your face. Her palm resting against your cheek. “Is she...” She raised a brow at George. Thinking the worst of the worst. Your death at the hands of Pamela.

“No. She’s alright. Assumed the mirror struck her energy a bit. It was too much for her to handle.”

“Lockwood is gonna-”

“Kill us.”

“I was going to say put her on house arrest but sure let’s assume the worst reactions possible.

“Before we arrived. He practically begged her to run off and call DEPRAC. She was top priority...” Lucy muttered to herself thinking back on what Lockwood debriefed before they came to face Pamela.

“Top priority?” George questioned. “Y/n?”

“Before we left, he mentioned how the mirror came close to being our second priority. I asked him out of curiosity what the first priority was. He didn’t answer me.” Lucy looks down at you with a new sense of understanding. The bond you and Lockwood shared was one like no other. Two souls brought together by unfathomable circumstances. Orphaned from the same cause, the same path that lead your loved ones to be unalive. To halves that made a whole. Who understood what was put at risk every day you stepped out into London’s busy and haunted streets. You both knew the sacrifices that were the hardest to make, but you both took them on over Lucy and George having to. The little family you both found yourselves, you put your whole lives and trust into. You were everything to one another, and that was a risk in itself. “Lockwood is going to have our heads...” She breathed out in realization.

“I think he knows that already.”

“What?” George gestured behind her with a grimace. Lockwood was standing a few feet away, clutching his shoulder. His eyes rotated from Lucy and George and onto your unmoving form.

“Shit...” Lucy swallowed nervously as he let his rapier clatter to the floor.

“Is she?” Lockwood swallowed his words down, not having the stomach to contemplate whether you remained with them or if you had finally joined alongside your parents and his. Lockwood took a few more agonizing steps towards your motionless form, his expression looking both exhausted and afraid. His fingers reach out but fall back down to his sides. He was only thankful you couldn’t see him tremble, as he held back on the urge to break down crying.

“She’s okay...swear it.” Lucy nodded, a timid smile on her face as her eyes watered.

Lockwood's eyes began to water from the sight. For an agent, death would be nothing more than a common occurrence. However, this was a different scenario, as a few tears streamed down his face. Before he could take another step forward, George finally free from his zip ties, carefully lifted you in a gentle motion, trying to prop you upwards. Lockwood hurried forward then, hands trembling as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a seating position. Your head lulling sideways at an uncomfortable angle. Lockwood's eyes darted all across your form, desperately hoping to find some kind of response from you.

"She took on the mirror...It was too much for her to handle. She fainted from it." George filled him in on what occurred.

Lockwood's breaths grew out of rhythm as he kept your body in place, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His fingers trembled at a furious pace as he placed his hand against your neck, needing to feel for himself for a pulse. To reassure him that you weren’t taken from him. It was a moment that felt like hours had passed. He spoke. “Did she look at it?” They could hear the panic in his voice.

"N-No. She used the skull." Anthony glanced over to where the type three ghost swirled around, displaying its very much livelihood. He wished the same for your state.

Lockwood's sigh of relief was palpable in the atmosphere. He withdrew his head from your shoulder and pressed his head gently against yours, his eyes closing shut. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the slight thump against his fingertips on your neck, it had his entire demeanor relaxing. Though it didn't calm his nerves. "She'll be alright," he promised George, who seemed to be on the verge of panic himself. "She'll be quite alright." He muttered softly as though the tiniest change in his tone would cause him to fall apart.

Lucy was at a crossroads, her instincts screaming at her how badly she wanted to rush into Lockwood's arms to comfort him at this moment, but she had her priorities straight. You had taken her place. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and it angered Lockwood because you never stopped putting yourself before others.

"She knocked me out and took my place. I wouldn't have let her if I knew-" Anthony retracted from you and looked over to Lucy, having her own breakdown.

Knowing of your bond, she knew what losing you would do to him. The last thing she wanted was to add any more stress to his plate and his already heavy heart. “I know. It’s alright Luce...” Lockwood gave her a firm nod. He then turned back to you. Lockwood was staring at what you referred to as your imperfections, a freckle here, a scar against your temple there, and the crease in your brows, to him they were what made you simply perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t help the frown on his lips, the frown on your own lips not sitting well with him. Had you fainted in pain? Were you still in pain? It didn’t shake him as badly as your closed eyes did. He wanted nothing more than to peer into them again. Find a home in them once more. He willed and hoped them to finally open so that he could see that you were alright.

He lied, your pulse hadn’t been enough, he needed to see you awaken for him to even function correctly. He needed his mind to think about anything else, something else so he asked.

“What marvelous object did she acquire this time...” He scoffed. “My first encounter with her was with the end of an umbrella.”

"The butt of her rapier," Lucy said. "Shit hurt..." She rubbed against the side of her temple.

“A rapier?” He breathed a small laugh. “I see you weren’t quite original this time...” A small smile appeared in Lockwood's eyes as he leaned forward again. His hand lowered to wrap around your fingers, all the while as he carefully placed your head upon his shoulder. His other hand brushed against your cheek, making note of your temperature. “Her hands are getting cold.”

"Is that bad?"

“Y/n. Can you hear me?” He lifted your head from his shoulder. “Her circulation is slowing. Our time frame for waking her up is shrinking.” It's always an internal struggle for him to remain composed, but he had to be strong for the lot of them.

"Where did Pamela go?" George began panicking. He grew weary seeing her hunched over the broken mirror.

“Leave her, George!" Lockwood let out his frustration at the situation. “She’s not our priority right now.”

“You stupid boy. You broke it!” Pamela whined.

Lockwood turned to look back at Pamela, who was whining about the broken mirror as Lucy’s attempts to bring you back to consciousness were becoming more futile. Lockwood’s patience was wearing thin, and Pamela’s words were doing nothing but adding fuel to the flames.

“We need to go! Now!” Lockwood urged the two of them. As he was already attempting to pick you up, especially with his bad shoulder still bleeding out. The exhaustion hadn’t yet reached him, his adrenaline running rampant.

Lockwood's words were cut short as he stumbled, dropping you to the ground. His bad shoulder had given way to the exhaustion that now began to consume him. He was losing his grip on everything. “Lucy...” he was pleading now.

“We’ve got her, let’s go!” Lucy assured his panic, and swung your arm over her shoulder, George taking your other arm.

“Don’t drop her…” Lockwood barked out, as he struggled to maintain a standing position. The exhaustion finally started to take hold of him as his knees buckled beneath him. With his body starting to tremble and lose its grasp, he let out a deep groan, his breath shallowing from the physical exertion.

"Go!" Lucy ordered out of frustration. She admired his concern and care about you but not when their lives were currently on the line and a crazy bitch was staring into the mirror she tried forcing them to look into.

He didn’t want to allow any room for arguing.

Anthony had fallen unconscious as the lift back up. His body lay next to yours as George, Lucy, and Kipps adjusted the both of you. The last thing Anthony recalls was lightly pressing his hand on top of yours before he succumbed to the exhaustion that ransacked his body. He felt as though a train drove right into him, though at least now he could say he’s faced down the barrel of a gun and lived to tell the tale. You’d find it humorous. You always thought highly of his jokes and gave him a laugh when most never bothered. He’d give anything to hear you bubble out of joy. See you double over from the loss of air in your chest. He’d give anything...everything.

After the paramedics patched him up and reduced him to an arm sling, he hung back as you lay on the gurney behind him. He twisted in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on you, waiting, willing the universe to spare him and have your fingers twitch, or have you shift around. He needed some peace of mind.

Though the universe was not kind, your body remained lifeless in a state of deep slumber. Lockwood’s heartbeat grew heavier the longer he waited on the back of the ambulance, his mind flooded with the worst-case scenarios. That this would be the last time, that that smile of yours that could charm anyone with ease would be lost. If he was to lose you, then he had nothing left. Nothing and no one. His hand continued to shake as he felt himself become more and more of a wreck. He couldn’t breathe...he wouldn't be able to breathe...and he knew he’d whole himself in his room if you didn’t-

“Will the Mrs live to see another day?”

Anthony looked over at Inspector Barnes. He gestured to your stilified state. He had hoped his joke would upturn the tension but if presumed he hadn’t after Lockwood scoffed and rolled his eyes, adverting his gaze away and back where they longed to remain, solely on you.

“What’d the paramedics say?” He asked again.

“She’s alright...Nothing we couldn’t figure out ourselves. The pressure from the mirror exhausted her to the point of fainting. She’s stable...she’s surpassed every checkup they ministered with flying colors...”

“Yet...” Barnes trailed off.

“They don’t have the slightest clue as to why she won’t wake up. They already tried to but...” Lockwood didn’t want to say it out loud, but speaking it into existence confirmed his worst fears, that even though your vitals were good, and your body reacted well to the fluids they gave you, something was seriously wrong, if not physically, then mentally and that scared him more than anything else. “I have this inclining...”

"Lockwood-" Barnes began.

“I know what you’re going to say. Have hope. Remain optimistic as we’ll continue to observe her, monitor her vitals, hell test her blood. But what good will that do when we’ve done it already…” He paused, the exhaustion growing with every passing moment. “What if she never wakes up?” Lockwood’s breath shudders.

“You both know of the risks–“ Barnes tries to reason.

“We’ve been in the business of risk exposure for years. We don’t expect ourselves to survive from the first encounter. But this–this feeling...” Lockwood’s voice was breaking. He couldn’t keep himself contained any longer. “I’m aware!” Lockwood snaps, his voice breaking, his eyes reddening. “All too aware, but if I’d known this would happen I’d…” His thoughts trail off, unsure of what to say anymore. His eyes kept darting back and forth between you and Barnes. He’d succumb to begging. He would. Just to see you move a little. Any kind of movement. Just one would be enough to quell his panic.

“Taken her place?” A small knowing smile reached Barnes's brows.

Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He took a deep breath, as he spoke in a hushed and gentle tone “I would hand myself over to death without question. Any given day.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’d rather she lose me, than I her. So yes, I’d have taken her place.” Barnes's eyes slowly flickered past his shoulder with an easing smile. He looked down to the rubble.

“Over my dead body-” Anthony had never turned his head faster. He instantly froze. The relief that had started to wash over him at seeing you had given way to embarrassment. His own injury was forgotten. You sat up and your eyes landed on him. “Hand yourself over to death, or you mad- What the hell happened to your shoulder?”

“That would be my leave...” Barnes pointed to his left and swiftly left the two of you.

“My shoulder? Oh, it…I was shot.” He answered as simple as that, it contained no other details, nothing to ease your concern, which led you right into interrogating him.

“Shot?” You were taken aback by his nonchalant reply. “What do you mean, shot?” You exclaim.

“Nothing worth troubling yourself about. How do you feel?” There was an air of tension between the two of you, where everything had become so fragile. After everything that had happened, a simple statement or action would break the illusion. You were awake and animated, and giving him a piece of your mind. It didn’t feel real in the slightest.

“I…” A wave of exhaustion was still coursing through your body, a result of the exhausting ordeal that you had just undergone. The ordeal had exhausted your body so much that your brain shut down. But your physical exhaustion also masked the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You felt out of your element; overwhelmed by everything that was now around you. Everything felt unfamiliar to you, as though you had been transported into an unknown dimension, one where your mind felt trapped. Anthony’s ghost locked body in your arms. “I don’t know...I couldn’t wake up.”

"I know- The paramedics tried everything and-"

It was impossible to say what you did and didn't remember. But from what you recall, the events of the evening were a blur. "The mirror..." You attempted to scoot closer to him. Your hands grazed against Anthony's hair. Your eyes caught sight of his shoulder, wrapped in bandages and the sling that secured it together. Was it bleeding? But it wasn’t your primary focus. You just needed to feel him. “There were so many faces, so many faces.” You breathe out a gasp. Your eyes watering. “I saw you...”

“Me?”

"You were ghost-locked. I had lost you..." Your breath hitched.

"It wasn't real. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn't real." Anthony reassured, pressing kisses against your temple.

"But what if it was...What if what the mirror showed me becomes true?"

He paused, taking a moment to contemplate your concerns. Anthony had already spent the evening playing out the worst-case scenarios, but to hear you state them verbally had somehow made them more palpable. However, a small part of him was curious whether you saw your future by the mirrors doing, or if it was just an illusion to break you mentally.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen." He whispered. His voice was tinged with emotion. His hands reached for yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. A sign of his promise to you.

“You can’t promise that-”

Anthony looked down at your hands, his eyes flickering between them as he attempted to focus on anything other than the overwhelming amount of emotions swirling within him, the emotions threatening to consume him whole. So he focused instead on your hands being intertwined with his, and the sight warmed him in a pleasant way he hadn't felt in many months, as the thought of possibly losing you had him filled with dread.

He leaned over and kissed your knuckles. “Did you not hear my declaration of my love for you?”

“Oh, the one where you give yourself to death- Like hell!” You yank your hand out of his with a scoff.

“Hand myself over–” He corrected you. “I’d hand myself over to death.” He continued.

“I’m about to hand you a right hook.” You throw a playful punch to his bad shoulder, forgetting his injury and rippling with regret instantly. “Oh!”

“Ow.” He groaned. “What’s the big issue?” He laughed softly. “What’s wrong with giving up my life for yours?” He teased. “You know I’d die for you.”

"You don't have my permission." You mutter softly. Bringing a hand up to brush back his hair.

As your hand brushed back his hair, Anthony couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture. He grabbed the hand you used to brush back his hair and lightly kissed the back of your hand again. “If I wanted to I would give myself over to death this very instant. I’d do just about anything for you, you know.” He replied. His gaze was now fully on you. His eyes were a deep amber, shining like two gemstones.

"And that's what scares me the most." You hum.

“It shouldn’t.” He scoffed with a smile. “Besides, I thought you valued my loyalty.” He raised a brow playfully.

"Yes. When I'm not there to defend my word. That’s when I put my whole faith in your loyalty to me...but when death comes knocking. I don't want it." Your eyes soften.

He looked away briefly, then back at you with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t give my life to save just anyone, you know.”

"Oh, I'm aware." You fight back an amused smile. He noticed it though, he caught the smile that you attempted to mask. You were never able to conceal much around him, and that was all right. He liked seeing your emotions on full display. You were your truest self when you let your guard down around him. It made you all the more adorable that way. “And you?” He asked. “Would you give yourself to death for me?” He teased, but you knew he was serious.

Your smile widened for a moment before you caught yourself, and answered without taking a beat. You would allow him to know your fears, for the fear of seeing him suffer on your behalf was the worst feeling one could endure. That was something you hated the thought of. You didn’t quite see yourself as the more vulnerable one out of the two of you. Deep down Anthony conquered his inner demons through you, shared his past, his troubles, and confessed his deepest fears to you. You’d help him without any hesitation. You would do anything for the bloke, even if that meant going as far as sacrificing your own life for the sake of him getting to keep his, you would do it, and you’d do it in a heartbeat no less.

“Any given day.” One glance into your eyes and Anthony knew. He knew you would keep that promise till death tethered on whose hand to take. When? Well, you’d never truly know for sure.

Content with your answer, he leans in and kisses your cheek softly. You relax into his touch, your lashes brushing down on top of your under-eyes. He pulls away with a stupid grin. His eyes filled with want and mischief, your favorite combination.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood oneshot #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #writings by juls #my gif

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electrosair · 10 months

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Husband & dad headcanons dendro + pyro ver.

english isn’t my first language, sorry for mistakes

characters: al haitham + baizhu + kaveh + tighnari + diluc + thoma

tw: there's a headcanon in which the reader is pregnant, but the rest of it is completely neutral. you can skip that one if you want and imagine something else like adopting.

word count: 1.6k

Al haitham

how does he propose to you?

As much as he 'hates' Kaveh, he would ask him for help with this. And Kaveh being as original as he is would tell him to take you to all the important places you were together and then ask you in the highest area of Sumeru City. You can thank him.

where is the wedding taking place?

I have two options, the small island of Port Ormos or The Palace of Alcazaray. They are too beautiful locations not to use at a moment like this.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

My head tells me he's the kind of guy who wants to spend your entire honeymoon with you in restaurants and at the Liyue library. Take advantage of this and go right when the Lantern Rite Festival is taking place.

children before or after marriage?

Afterwards for sure. He would want to wait to have more time for you and his children, plus have a house just for you and not have to share one with Kaveh.

how many children does he want?

Maybe 2, but quite a few years apart I would venture to say. He would be busy enough to have multiple at the same time. "Let's get some rest for a while, those nine months and the ones we have left are already taken."

how is he during your pregnancy?

He definitely takes you to fancy restaurants and out for walks whenever he can, still being the cool guy and being able to show everyone how happy he is also with his favorite person and his future baby is a yes for him.

any memorable moment with his child?

Returning home after being outside and finding Al haitham with your child sitting on his lap and pointing out the words to him as he softly pronounces them for your baby to repeat after him.

Baizhu

how does he propose to you?

He would ask you to stay in the store during that day while he prepares everything to propose to you. A path with your favorite flowers when you leave the pharmacy and a smiling Baizhu waiting for you.

where is the wedding taking place?

On the outskirts of Qingce Village. I don't know your opinion about the scenery there, but it's beautiful, the area full of bamboo and the high mountain next to it. Any of the sites will do for him.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Sumeru, I accept no other option. Maybe Spinedragon. But surely he would go to Sumeru with you to enjoy the new greener landscapes and he would learn a lot on the trip.

children before or after marriage?

He wouldn't care, if you have them before then it's fine with him, and if you'd rather wait until you're married Baizhu will be okay with that too.

how many children does he want?

Considering the relationship he has with Qiqi and how he cares for her, treating her like his own daughter, I feel the more the better. He is definitely good with children.

how is he during your pregnancy?

He knows exactly how to react to your every complaint, whether it's pain, emotional or a simple craving you have. He would do checkups on you and the baby from home. "Take a deep breath, I want to see if we can hear the baby's little heart now."

any memorable moment with his child?

He would make the child believe that he is drinking candy or some juice while giving him the medicine and maybe from time to time he would do it with you too. But just until the child would realize it and refuse to take it or tell you that it was medication.

Kaveh

how does he propose to you?

Kaveh would design a building for a 'client' but in reality it's just an excuse to take you there when it's already built and ask you in the most beautiful room, clear water fountains and plants around the vividly colored walls.

where is the wedding taking place?

In Sumeru City it is the first choice. After the wedding he would like to have a small celebration at Lambad's Tavern with his favorite people as a thank you for going to the ceremony and to spend more time with you in your wedding attire. To him you look gorgeous.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Tell him a place, he will take you there. He will let you choose since he chose the wedding venue. He will be happy to see the different architecture and enjoy spoiling you during the whole trip.

children before or after marriage?

As much as he wants to have children with you, I think he also wants to spend as much time with you as possible, so he would prefer them later. "Can we wait a little longer? I still want us to remain each other's priority."

how many children does he want?

I can imagine him being a father of 2 babies. He would give them both all the love in the world, and they would probably end up spoiled because we already know Kaveh.

how is he during your pregnancy?

You would also be spoiled by him, buying you new clothes every time your belly grew. And of course giving you whatever treats you wanted.

any memorable moment with his child?

He would buy so many clothes when you didn't have the baby in your hands yet. You would end up with clothes that wouldn't even fit on the baby. Your children would be dressed in huge clothes because they saw them in the closet and liked them too much.

Tighnari

how does he propose to you?

I'm sure he'll take you on a walk through the rainforest, showing you plants and bird species you didn't know about and following a different route than the one you normally take so you'll be taken by surprise. I imagine a flower opening and the ring inside.

where is the wedding taking place?

At the Pardis Dhyai. Tighnari likes that place so much that I can't imagine you getting married anywhere else. He is always there when he is not at the villa and the greenhouse is beautiful.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

You may go to the desert for a few days, most likely to the oases to refresh yourselves. Then you would go to another destination, maybe he wants to go back to Mondstadt or take the opportunity of the opening of Inazuma's borders to visit it with you.

children before or after marriage?

My instinct tells me you would have them before. Maybe because I can't picture Tighnari getting married so early, you know how he is, challenging the academy and in the process also the rest of humanity.

how many children does he want?

Sorry about this but according to my google researches I'm forced to say 2 to 5. Army of mini foxes all over your house? Yes.

how is he during your pregnancy?

Home remedies with herbs that he knows will relieve any pain and colic. Mostly super protective of you when he knows that in addition to you he is taking care of your children at the same time. "Are you in pain? Come, let me massage you with this, I promise it will relieve it."

any memorable moment with his child?

He would show them every poisonous plant in the surroundings so they wouldn't go near any of them. I can also imagine him helping the older ones with the bow.

Diluc

how does he propose to you?

He will probably give you little hints for a month until finally proposing marriage, straight and blunt that time. There would be no middle ground, either he asks you after a romantic dinner or he asks you one quiet day when you go to see him at the tavern.

where is the wedding taking place?

At the Dawn Winery for sure. Have you seen how beautiful it is on the outside? I can just imagine a wedding arch between all the vineyards and a big walkway made of wooden planks so you don't stain your wedding clothes.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Literally anywhere you want, he has enough money left over to even take you to each of the nations for a week and spend more than a month on this trip.

children before or after marriage?

Probably after the wedding, he would want to have everything secured before finally having children with you.

how many children does he want?

Between 1 and 2 the perfect amount for him, 1 better than 2 if you ask him. But if you want a lot I would say 3 is all he can give you (and bear).

how is he during your pregnancy?

He would always keep an eye on you just in case you do something he considers bad for you or the baby. Normally he would give you a lot of freedom but if he feels it like necessary he will entrust one of the maids to take care of you.

any memorable moment with his child?

The day he caught your 3-year-old child about to drink a bottle of wine he had reserved for you and him. You certainly never saw another bottle in some unlocked place again. "Dear, are you finished with that? I'm going to put it back in the cabinet."

Thoma

how does he propose to you?

He would ask Ayaka or Ayato for help, all super planned and probably on some important Inazuma holiday or on some important date in your relationship. At night and with a romantic atmosphere, he would get down on one knee 100%.

where is the wedding taking place?

Thoma is originally from mondstadt so I like to imagine that he would take you there for the ceremony and meet his family.

where are you going on your honeymoon?

Mondstadt, Mondstadt, Mondstadt. He would stay there with you and even introduce you to cousins he didn't even know he had. He would probably take you to see everything, Dragonspine included.

children before or after marriage?

I feel like he would prefer to have them after the wedding but really wouldn't mind if for whatever reason it ends up being before.

how many children does he want?

He would take your opinion very seriously, but have you seen him? I mean, at the very least he would want 3, maximum he doesn't have (my best friend told me that up to 30-).

how is he during your pregnancy?

If he normally does all the household chores, while you are pregnant with his children he won't let you touch even a simple mop. "You're already busy taking care of our baby 24 hours a day, leave the rest to me."

any memorable moment with his child?

The whole family got into the kitchen, your children wearing little chef's hats and aprons while Thoma gave them instructions on how to make 'the best surprise birthday cake for mommy/daddy/term you use'.

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wisteriasymphony · 1 month

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(i wrote our boy being overdramatic @mostmagical @xhanisai @graythegreyt)

---

"Okay, and if everything developed as it was supposed to..." Adrien muttered to himself, slowly taking off the plastic bag he'd wrapped around his hair, "...It should look..."

Adrien studied his reflection in the mirror. He was right; It did look. BAD.

He went to fish the box the hair dye came in out of the trash, just to check for sure. Indeed, they looked nothing similar: The box showed what looked like a subdued strawberry blonde, and the mirror showed an orange that wouldn't be out of place in a construction zone.

"This is fine," he said to himself, gritting his teeth. "...Nothing washing some of the dye out can't fix."

So, Adrien bent over his bathroom sink and began to scrub at his roots like his life depended on it, because in that moment it felt like it very much did. Buckets and buckets worth of bright, kindergarden-crayon-orange seeped into the sink's drain, until it finally gave way to an only slightly better highlighter-orange shade of runoff dye.

After that good 5 minutes of "fixing it", Adrien looked back to his reflection in the mirror. No change, aside from his mouth falling open in abject horror.

"Oh god, no no no no—"

Looking to his hands brought him no comfort, as they now were stained just as orange, like he was the Lady Macbeth of shoving his hands up a jack-o-lantern's ass. And just as Lady Macbeth experienced, no amount of scrubbing would rid his hands of the "damned spot"—one which covered the entirety of his palms and fingers.

A squeaky voice echoed from behind him—One who'd clearly been watching this spectacle the entire time. "Looks like you missed auburn big ti—"

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Adrien shouted back, letting the sink still run—the dye wasn't even willing to part from its ring around the drain, it seemed. Adrien nearly buried his face in his hands, before he stopped himself from spreading the horrid disease further. "God, my father's going to come back from the dead just to kill me for this. —I can't go out looking like this!"

"Luka Couffaine goes out with dyed hair all the time."

"Luka Couffaine does not look like a fucking papaya, Plagg!" Adrien collapsed over his sink, debating whether or not this mistake was worth taking up teenage alcoholism. "I can hear it already.... I'll be called 'Orange Boy' for the rest of my life..... I just wanted to not be blonde anymore, and look at me," he whined, "I'm a disgrace!"

"At worst you look like a fruit!" Plagg replied. "And everybody already knew that about you."

If Plagg had shoulders to grab, Adrien would have done so, just to violently shake him. Maybe rub off some horrible mango-colored hue on his body too, just to impart upon the kwami some of his misery.

"...God," he lamented. "I have to tell Marinette... Warn her about what I've done to myself."

#two parter on the way if i get bajillion notes /j #i love writing adrien as a pathetic little drama queen he's my little cyclone of a man #adrien agreste #mlb adrien #miraculous adrien #miraculous fanfic #orangedrien

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tmblrcolouredpaper · 8 months

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Needed Cuddles

You feel uncomfortable on the full bus at night, but your friends are there to take care of you. They need you just as much though.

Lee Minho/ Lee Know; Hwang Hyunjin, reader

Late night conversation and comfort, walking together, care and comfort, suggestive jokes, friendship

wc: 1716

It wasn't the first time you had to be on the train during the late hours of the day. Normally, the darkness didn't scare you, but it was a completely different story when you were surrounded by masses of people that you didn't know, that you haven't even seen before. On top of that, today's train got cancelled and you had to take the substituting bus. Therefore, the route was another factor of unfamiliarity.

After contemplating for good 20 minutes wether you should call Minho or not, you gave in, because your silent tears that made their way down your cheeks were a significant indicator for highly needed comfort.

'Hello?', sounded from your phone, followed by some audible steps and a final flop onto the sofa, you assumed.

'Hi', you whispered, because on one hand you didn't want to disturb the other passengers, and on the other hand you didn't trust your voice to not immediately tremble.

'You okay?', Minho asked without hesitation, his voice worried.

'Yes, it's just...', you trailed off and tried to find words that didn't feel totally silly.

You're an adult. For god's sake, you should be able to get home from work without crying.

to your friend about it.

'Breathe', Minho instructed, well aware of your habit to unvoluntarily hold your breath.

You felt better right away. Breathing helped, but so did hearing his voice.

'I'm on the bus', you managed to tell him and he hummed, waiting for you to continue.

'It's full here and dark. I got a seat, but I can't see much. It's dark', you stammered and fixated some lights in the distance.

'How long do you have to be on the bus?', he asked and you checked the app.

'One hour', you mumbled and hated everything about the situation you found yourself in.

'Keep breathing. Can you count the number of lights you see in the next five minutes? Say the numbers out loud to me, yeah? Can you do that?', he requested and you nodded, but then you remembered he wasn't here and couldn't see you, so you quickly added a hushed 'yes'.

'What's you favorite colour?', he suddenly asked and you responded, 'Red?', in confusion.

There were some street lanterns, so you counted, 'one , two, three, four, five'.

Minho didn't give you a break and asked:'Ass or tits?'

You chuckled, because you were too shy to burst out in laughter. You were in public after all.

'What?', you asked, now ultimately confused.

'Do you. Prefer. My ass. Or my tits', he repeated slower and overly pronounced.

'Hmmm. That's a tough question', you announced and added the numbers six to eleven on the lights list.

'Come on. Feel free to sexualize me. You won't get the chance too often', he chuckled and you wished you were at home already. His laugh sounded even prettier in person.

'That's a very limited amount of options. I can't choose!', you exclaimed and focoused on your breath a bit more again.

'Okayy. Then, do you prefer cuddling with Hyunjin or me?', he switched the question.

'Hey. Don't do that', you whispered and really strongly wished you were home.

'Lights?', he asked and you answered by saying 'thirteen'.

'He doesn't have a chance against me, right?', he added and you could vividly imagine his grin.

'Actually, I'd rank him higher than you', you joked.

'Ouch. Well, okay. No cuddles for you once you're home. And I was looking forward to holding and consoling you the whole night, but, oh well...', he sighed dramatically.

'I'll just go to Hyunjin's room then', you provoked further.

'You didn't call Hyunjin but me tho', he said seriously and you have to give him that point, but only because you didn't want to disturb Hyunjin in his evening's art routine.

'You also can't choose between his ass and tits, because they are basically nonexistent, making me a better cuddling partner. Choose wisely, dear idiot' Minho added and his time was funnily philosophical, as if he would spread holy wisdom.

All he achieved was making you smile at the ridiculousy. You felt lighter than before the call and added two more lights to the list.

Fifteen was the final number after the given time frame of five minutes and after another check-in about your current state and the assurance that you felt better, Minho started talking about his day, telling you many details down to the fur pattern of every cat he saw in the streets.

The bus stopped at the final destination and you got off happily. The people around you spread into various directions and when you finally got a clear view onto your path that leads home, you were paralysed in surprise due to the unexpected visitor that was smiling at you.

'Minho! When did you go to Hyunjin?', you almost screamed into the phone and were only met with Minho's evil laughter.

'There is this thing called texting and it works while being on a phone call, you dumbass', he explained and hung up with no further comment.

Hyunjin stepped in front of you, snatched your bag away and pulled you into a hug. His hair was pushed back with a hairband and there was some dried paint on his neck and when he pulled away, you found some more spots on his hands.

'I didn't want to disturb you', you mumbled, guilt rising, because he was outside at night instead of having a cozy painting session.

'You didn't. It was Minho', he responded and giggled, pulling your bag over his shoulder.

'Sorry', you apologised anyway and nodded into the direction you had to walk to.

Hyunjin just nodded, took your hand and tucked you closer next to him while you two started walking.

You were freezing by the time you finally entered the appartment complex and you were sure it was rather due to your tiredness than the cold evening air. Hyunjin knocked on the apartment's door and Minho opened, looking bored, almost annoyed.

'Good evening', Hyunjin chirped and put on an extra cheerful and energized character to annoy Minho who was clearly tired and impatient at this late hour.

'Go lick some more paint', Minho mumbled, but contrary to his words, patted Hyunjin's shoulder in a friendly manner and smiled at him, nonverbally thanking him.

Hyunjin just shook his head and gave you a quick goodbye hug and handed you your bag.

Stepping into the dorm was the best feeling you could have imagined this evening. You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but actually, you were to tired to give into even one of those impulses.

Minho trailed off into the kitchen and you went to take a shower. There was a cup of ramen and a glass of water on the living room table once you returned, originally because you wanted to go to bed. However, Minho called you and told you to eat.

'You need energy after today's stress', he reminded you and watched you until you finished everything he put in front of you. He vanished and returned with freshly cut peaches once and another time with some chocolate, because according to him, chocolote was necessary to finish an overwhelming day. Of course, you didn't dare to disagree.

With freshly brushed teeth you finally made your way to your room and layed down, quickly texting Minho and Hyunjin messages to express how thankful you were for them being there for you this evening and then in no time sleep took over your tired mind and body.

You woke up at the sound of someone knocking on your door and when it cracked open slightly, the light from the living room entered.

'What?', you groaned and got Minho's chuckle as an response.

'Did I wake you?', he then proceeded to ask and you told him that, yes, this was the fucking case.

'Just wanted to say that you did well today', he mumbled and you, still half asleep and barely registering his words, nodded.

'Okay. What do you want?', you grumbled, honestly pissed that he woke you up.

'I promised you cuddles', he said cutely and you hated it, but laughed after all.

'You big baby. Be honest, do you want some cuddles?', you asked, fully aware of his enjoyment of regular cuddle sessions that he always claimed to just be kinda okay with and is mainly doing them, because you or the others needed them.

'Nah, I don't. Just thought you wanted', he huffed and was about to close the door again, but you hurried out of bed and held onto the door. The blanked was halfly wrapped around one leg, luckily didn't cause you to stumble, and you noticed that you were still holding onto one plushie. You laughed at this observation and Minho eyed you up and down and laughed as well.

'You're embaressing', he joked and patted the plushie in your arm.

'So are you. Just for the record, you would be trapped in my arms just like this little furball here, when I'd have to get up while we cuddled', you said, nodding down.

Minho pulled the plushie away from you.

'You'd let someone pull me away that easily too?', he questioned.

'If it was someone I trust, then yes', you explained and saw Minho's eyes widen.

Absently, he handed you back plushie.

'Can we now cuddle? I'm too tired to make you ask for them yourself', you whined and went back to bed.

Minho closed the door and followed you. He freed you from the blanket trap and tucked you in, before he pulled you into his frame, holding you close.

'You did well today too, Minho', you mumbled against him and buched his bangs out of his eyes.

'Thanks. Are you okay now?'.

He pulled the blanket over himself and you pushed the pillow further under his head. He dropped into it with a content sigh.

'I'm okay. I'm so tired, I'll be gone in two seconds', you announced and Minho hummed in recognition.

'I needed those cuddles today as well', he whispered, but you were already back asleep, the plushie squeezed between you two and one arm thrown around Minho's waist, pinning him comfortably close to you for the next few hours.

#skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee know #lee know x reader #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #lee know fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 months

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Words: 9,001 (yeah, she's a beast!) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria S9, post-Negan war, before the bridge Warnings: language (duh, it’s me), violence (no sexual violence), injuries to main character, blood, some kind of dark Saviors shit (not like line-up level dark but kinda fucked), mild angst, Protective!Daryl, hurt/comfort Summary: The war is over, but it isn't all peaches and cream. The Sanctuary struggles to function and Daryl and Y/N struggle with ghosts of their pasts after Rick asks them to take things over there. Deciding they've had enough, they decide to depart for Hilltop but Y/N stays behind for a couple days to help Carol get started taking over. The past comes back to rear its ugly head... A/N: This is an epilogue to the Sacrifice series, but you don't necessarily have to have read all 29 previous parts to appreciate it (though you def should!) [Spoilers (or reminders) for context start here -> -> -> The war is over, Y/N was once one of Negan's wives in order to protect her brother, she went back to Negan to break Daryl out of the Sanctuary, Daryl ends up shooting Negan to protect Y/N when a plan of theirs goes awry and the war ends, Y/N was also shot in the process but survived]

_ _ _ _ _ _

You and Daryl stood off to the side, watching the group of people gather around Rick, flooding the open space on the Sanctuary’s factory floor. You gently touched him on the arm and his blue eyes landed on your face. “Are you going to talk to him tonight?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. I gotta. I can’t—we can’t stay here any longer. I dun want you here either. Bein’ in here, in these walls again, it feels like it’s slowly poisonin’ us…” He glanced at the fresh graffiti someone had sprayed on the wall. We’re still Negan. Saviors Save Us

Your hand slipped down his forearm and you laced your fingers with his. “I know. It’s the right decision.”

“Yeah,” he mused. “Ain’t sure Rick’s gonna agree though…”

“Rick isn’t the one here dealing with all these people, reliving everything every day. It’s too much,” you said. Daryl nodded in agreement.

“Yeah…” Just then, Rick finished talking to the gathered group and there was a smattering of applause and murmuring. You gave Daryl’s hand a gentle squeeze as Rick wandered over. “Good luck,” you murmured.

Soon, various business that needed to be discussed was concluded and the already dim torch and lantern lights on the Sanctuary factory floor were all but put out. Daryl and Rick retreated up to the catwalk.

As they stood side-by-side, looking down at the shadowy, rundown building below them, Daryl sighed heavily and Rick could feel the tension between them. Rick broke the silence first. “So, what’s going on?” he asked.

Daryl gulped and straightened up, looking his friend in the eye. “I don't wanna be the one leadin’ these people anymore.”

Rick’s expression was impassive. “Okay... Why?”

“Bein' here, behind these walls again... It just don't feel right, man. I'm better out there. I always have been. And I’ve got Y/N to think about. After what happened to her in here—with him—”

Rick sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Things happened to you in here too,” Rick said, perhaps realizing for the first time what he’d really asked of his friend, his brother…

“Yeah, well I care more about her than I care about myself. This is where her life was a livin’ fuckin’ nightmare. His wife…” he murmured under his breath. “She wasn’t his wife. She was his damn property. Her brother died here. He destroyed her group just like he destroyed ours. What d’ya think this place reminds both of us of?” He asked, turning sharp eyes to Rick. “Hmm? Did ya even think ‘bout that when ya asked me to come back here? Didya stop to think that ya might be askin’ us to relive some of the worst shit we’ve ever gone through?”

Rick hung his head for a moment, clasping his hands together. A wash of guilt and shame came over him. He hadn’t considered the full extent of it, no. But there was no one else to do the job and so he’d asked too much of Daryl, too much of you. “But you and Y/N have kept this place together. You’ve kept people in line here. We can't just let the Sanctuary fail after everything that's happened,” he said.

Daryl shook his head and paced a small, agitated circle. “Man, s’gonna fail anyway. Nothin’ grows here. It's a damn factory, man. Look, when Negan was around, he needed people to provide for him. It's still the same. Nothin's changed,” Daryl argued.

“It's different now. We give what we give willingly,” Rick retorted.

“And how long's that gonna last? Most of the bridges are out after the big storm. The highway's done. We've scavenged every drop of gas for miles. And we can't make enough corn fuel to run the cars or the trucks. Pretty soon, it's gonna be more than a day's ride from one spot to another.”

“Well, it's on us to figure out how to make it work,” Rick said, leaning forward on the rail again.

“Man, there ain't no ‘us’ anymore. Everyone's everywhere,” he pointed out. “I feel lucky that Y/N and I are even in the same damn place.” He let out another weighty sigh. “That small group we had back in the beginning... plus a few more of the people we picked up along the way, we could do anythin’. That was right. That’s what I know.” Daryl leaned forward beside Rick, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way.

“Well, you wanna come home to Alexandria, then?” Rick asked. “You and Y/N?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. We'll go back to Hilltop, check on Maggie and the baby.”

“Well, you go, someone's got to take your place here. Rosita and Eugene are headed to Oceanside next. Maggie's sending food, but not people, and Kingdom's got its own problems rebuilding after losing its fighters. If Alexandria sends another person out, I could use the help back home.”

Daryl only let out a small huff.

“We're not together because things have changed,” Rick said again.

Daryl stiffened. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed. His blue eyes turned to Rick again and they were intense. “The thing is, you changed ‘em, Rick.” The tension felt hot and pulsating in the air like liquid mercury. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “But I get it.” And then Daryl took his leave.

On the staircase, Carol backed away as quietly as she could, only to be startled by your voice softly behind her. “Well, that didn’t go great,” you whispered.

Carol turned to face you, her face drawn. “Daryl is right though. Rick shouldn’t have asked that of the two of you after—after everything you went through here. And he should have known Daryl would have a hard time saying no to him.”

You nodded and straightened up, stepping toward her. “Rick’s his brother,” you agreed. “And there really was no one else. But Daryl’s right. We can’t stay here anymore. It’s—it’s wearing him thin.”

“And you?” Carol asked, worried.

You gave her a tight smile and shrugged. But when you spoke again your voice broke. “I’d almost rather be anywhere else…”

Carol nodded knowingly and then grabbed you into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said. her mind drifted back to her own abuse at the hands of Ed and she felt a swell of affection for you and for Daryl, for both of you taking this on at all after everything… When she pulled back, she cleared her throat, pushing her emotion away. “I’ll—I’ll take over here a while. You and Daryl need to get out. I want to help.”

“Carol—”

“Don’t argue with me. My mind’s made up,” she said firmly.

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you,” you said. “I’m—I’m gonna go talk to Rick,” you said. “Make him understand.”

Carol nodded. “I’ll check on Daryl. Let him know what I’m thinking.”

“Okay. Good idea… Hey—Carol. This is—what you’re doing to help, it’s huge for us. So, thank you.”

She gave you a warm smile and you passed her on your way up the stairs to find Rick. He was still leaning heavily on the railing, clearly in deep thought over his discussion with Daryl. But he turned at the sound of your steps on the metal catwalk and straightened up when he saw you.

“Hey,” you greeted him stopping beside him and also looking down over the factory floor. No one was milling around anymore. Most people had drifted away to bed. “You okay?” you asked, giving him a knowing, sideways glance.

Rick laughed a little wryly and nodded. “Yeah… Just—tryin’ to figure out if and where I went wrong,” he said, clasping his hands together. “Things I’d do differently now…”

You nodded. “You have a lot of weight on your shoulders. Daryl knows that.”

Rick met your eyes again, clearly realizing you’d overhead their conversation somehow.

You straightened up and tilted your head toward the hallway down the catwalk. “Follow me. I want to show you something.”

Rick followed you as you stopped to grab a lantern and then led him down the hallway. This part of the building was mostly empty these days, except for a few people who had carved out some private spaces for themselves. The warm orange glow flickered past many doors and other halls before you turned right and came partially down the next corridor. The nauseous feeling and the heavy pit in your stomach grew as you walked, and before you knew it, your hand was trembling slightly holding the lantern. This place was full of ghosts.

Rick looked at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked. The tremble in your hand translated to a shakiness in the shadows cast by the light on the walls and it was easy to see.

“We’re almost there,” you said softly.

You walked in further silence for only another half a minute before you stopped in front of a gaping dark space in the wall, barely bigger than a closet. Rick gave you a questioning look and you lifted the lantern to illuminate it. The floor was filthy with layers of smeared dirt and who-knows what else. “This is where they held us. Me, when my brother and I were captured, and Negan singled me out from my group. And Daryl after the line-up with Alexandria.”

Rick stared at the dirty, dingy space and he could almost see Daryl huddled there in his mind’s eye, wearing that filthy sweatshirt. His brow furrowed and his face contorted.

You pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Your head felt a bit light and foggy. “I—I had the doors that used to be on the cells removed, because—I just couldn’t stand the sight of them closed up like that. I kept—kept imagining Daryl was still in there every time I had to walk past. Or that somehow, I was going to end up back in there.” You glanced over at Rick who was staring straight into the darkness. He watched as you raised your free hand to rub at your bad shoulder, the one Negan’s bullet had pierced. “They took all his clothes at first. Left him in there naked. Cold. Shot. Hungry. Wondering what happened to the rest of you. And the thirst… Then, Dwight humiliated him and they fed him dog food and blasted music to keep him awake. The same song, over and over. Then, they made him work outside in the heat and humidity in that filthy sweatsuit, chaining walkers to the fence for Negan or doing whatever awful chores they could invent. He had to clean up after Negan punished someone, mopping up shit or piss or worse… Dwight made him look at pictures of—of what happened to Glenn and Abraham.” Tears burned in your eyes and Rick’s shut and he dropped his head.

He lifted a hand to wave you off. “I—I understand,” he said in a low voice, his heart breaking. He’d been careless to ask Daryl to come here, too focused on his beautiful dream in the memory of Carl to realize what this would do to you and to Daryl.

“He didn’t want to say no to you when you asked him to come back here. You’re like a brother to him. He didn’t want to let you down even though—it’s literally the last place either of us wants to be.”

Rick sighed heavily and rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. “I don’t have an excuse… I—I shouldn’t have asked it. Of either of you… I just—I was tryin’ to make this all work.”

You nodded. “I know. So does Daryl. But that doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been… We’ve both been reliving our trauma having to be back here. And we’ve hit our limit. That’s all.”

Rick met your eyes again. You hadn’t even talked about yourself, about what you’d been through here in the cell and with Negan after, not really. You’d mainly focused on Daryl. But Rick could guess well enough what it would have been like for you being one of Negan’s wives and living in that constant fear for your brother and yourself, what you’d had to subject yourself to.

He glanced again at that dark space in the wall. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Carol said she’ll take over here for a while,” you said, turning away from the cell and starting back the way you came.

Rick looked surprised but nodded, walking along beside you.

“I’ll—I’ll stay a couple days to get her going here and up to speed. And then I’ll go meet Daryl in Hilltop.”

“Alright,” Rick nodded. “It’ll have to work for now. But I can’t help thinking it’s a patch on the issue and not a fix.”

You laughed wryly again. “Aren’t most things these days? Rick, Daryl wasn’t wrong about The Sanctuary. It’s a resource sink. It doesn’t produce anything. You’re still going to have to square with that one day. I get what you have been trying to do, making peace with the rest of The Saviors, and not all of them are guilty of the awful things that happened during the war. But things are still festering here under the surface.”

Rick looked over at you, concerned. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, about ready to part ways with him on the catwalk again. “You saw the graffiti. Negan might be dead but for some of them, it’s not over.” You gave him one last look. “Daryl and I know you have a lot on your plate, but it’s time for us to get the hell outta here. If we don’t… this place will consume us. We can’t move away from what happened while we’re here. It’s like—it’s like having it shoved down our throats every day.”

You took your leave from Rick then, leaving him again in deep thought. You knew where you could find Daryl, at a spot outside he liked to go where most people wouldn’t be able to disturb him. It happened to be someplace the two of you sometimes went to watch the stars. When you got there, stepping just one foot outside the building, you had to smile to yourself. Daryl and Carol were just sitting together, side-by-side, enjoying a moment after being apart for so long. You decided to leave them to it.

You made your way back to the room you and Daryl had claimed together in a different part of The Sanctuary. You hastily changed your clothes and got ready for bed, knowing he’d come find you there when he was ready. And it wasn’t long before he did, coming in to see you already cozied up in the bed you shared, reading a worn paperback.

You smiled as he came in. “Hi,” you said.

He stopped in the doorway and took you in, giving you a small smile back. “Hey. Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” Daryl drawled, sinking down beside you on the mattress. “I was out sittin’ with Carol.”

“It’s alright. I know you were. I didn’t want to interrupt,” you said, reaching for a strand of his wavy hair and running your fingers down it gently. “You haven’t seen each other for a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling off his boots. “Get this. Ezekiel asked her to marry him,” he said, giving you a conspiratorial look.

You pushed yourself up on the palm of your hand. “Oh my God!” you burst out.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“Well? What did she say?!”

“Ah… She ain’t ready yet,” Daryl explained.

“Wow.” You thought of Carol and Ezekiel together after the close call at the museum. They were good for each other. “Maybe someday?” you asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm.” His hand came to rest on the graceful curve of your neck. It was cool from the nighttime air. He leaned in and kissed you softly, pulling back just slightly to study the colors in your irises. “Listen—I told Rick—”

“Yeah, I know,” you interrupted him gently. “I could hear the two of you. And Carol talked to me too. She’s gonna take over here for a while.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. So, we can go. We dun have to be here anymore. Figured we can head to Hilltop tomorrow. Check on Maggie and Hershel.”

You nodded and then ducked your eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna stay here with Carol for just a couple more days. Help her get started and settled. Then I can meet you. I’ll take one of the horses.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. You could see that he was getting ready to argue.

“It’s just a few more days,” you whispered, gently grabbing onto the front of his vest. “It’s the least I can do since she’s doing this for us, leaving her family and world in The Kingdom.”

Daryl’s stomach churned a little, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. “She’ll have Eugene,” he pointed out.

“Barely. He and Rosita are heading to Oceanside next to get the fishery going.”

Daryl sighed heavily and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slightly slumped. He was chewing on his bottom lip. You knelt behind him and draped yourself against his back, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the curtain of his wavy hair, breathing him in and leaving a kiss on his neck. “It’s just a couple days,” you said again.

He gulped. He didn’t know why, but there was a pit in his stomach. “I dunno…” he mused aloud. “I dun like ya bein’ here without me. Here of all damn places.” His mind went back to that graffiti sprayed on the wall.

“I know. I don’t either. But I want to help Carol as a thank you. And then I’ll come straight to Hilltop.” You moved around to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “Hey—Look at me,” you urged him. “I can handle myself. Or did you forget?” you teased him, bumping into his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“I know ya can handle yerself. It ain’t that… Somethin’ just—I dunno. Somethin’ dun feel righ’.”

You sighed and nodded knowingly. “It’s never felt right being here.”

“Yeah… maybe tha’s just it. I dunno,” he said finally, but you noted that he still looked slightly troubled. It had been a long day, and his talk with Rick was intense. He stood up and started getting ready to climb in bed with you. You watched the muscles in his back ripple, crisscrossed by his scars, as he pulled off his shirt. You crawled back beneath the sheets and waited until he slipped in beside you.

“C’mere,” he murmured softly to you as he settled into his pillow. You moved into him immediately and he pulled you against him. You tangled your legs with his and gazed into his bright blue eyes. He draped an arm over you and his hand moved to find the hem of your t-shirt before slipping underneath it and pressing against your bare skin, tracing absent patterns on your side, your hip, your back. Daryl leaned in and kissed you, one that was deep and full of wanting.

You felt a pooling of heat expanding in your chest as his lips moved to your neck. Daryl listened to your breathing hitch as he kissed your pulse point and grazed the shell of your ear. His hands wandered over the shape of you beneath the draping of your shirt. In no time, the two of you were completely lost in each other, melting into sensations and quiet gasps of pleasure, bounding hearts and heaving chests, skin on skin. Daryl’s fingers laced between yours, his other hand firm on your hip. Then, after you both reached your blissful highs, you fell asleep in his arms and neither of you woke until the sun was coming up.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You walked with Daryl to his bike and stood beside him as he strapped down his gear, giving him a smile when he looked up at you again.

“Are ya sure ‘bout this? Ya dun have to stay. Carol will be fine,” he said in a low voice. That pit in his stomach had returned almost immediately when he awoke and thought about separating from you.

You gently rested your hands on his sides, stepping in close. “Everything is going to be fine. Go help Maggie. Check on her and Hershel. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

He looked worried, but nodded. “S’yer call. Two days,” he drawled.

You nodded. “Two days. I promise.”

“Alrigh’…” He leaned in and kissed you deeply, clasping your face and pressing his other hand into the small of your back to pull your body flush against his. You kissed him back heatedly and hungrily and sighed when you broke apart.

“Miss ya already,” he said, breaking contact with you and getting ready to climb onto his bike.

“Same,” you agreed, giving him a tight smile. “Love you,” you added, waiting until the last moment of separating to unlace your fingers from his.

He nodded and studied you, drinking in the view. “You too.”

Then, in a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust he was on his way. You didn’t see him glance back at you over his shoulder before he completely lost sight of The Sanctuary.

You found Carol already on the factory floor standing with Eugene, looking over whatever list of action items were on his clipboard that day. You were absently rubbing your bad shoulder as you came up. It had been aching since the day before. Had revisiting the cell stirred things up? Probably. Carol noticed immediately.

“You okay? Shoulder bothering you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Just a little. The old war wound acting up a bit,” you said with a wry laugh.

Eugene looked up from his clipboard. “I could potentially formulate a topical balm that may relieve some of your chronic pain symptoms, though most ingredients would not sufficiently penetrate the muscle in order to reach the origin of—”

You cut him off with a smile and a laugh. “It’s okay, Eugene. I’m fine. It’s not too bad. What do we need to tackle today?”

The three of you chatted briefly about what needed to be done urgently and then each picked your tasks to start with. Several hours later, you were nearly done trying to treat the small number of plants that were still surviving in the raised garden beds for some kind of insect pest when you were interrupted.

You turned at the sound of footsteps to see one of the Sanctuary residents approaching. You stood and dusted the soil from your gloves. “Hi. What’s up?”

“The guys getting that scrap metal from the upper floors found a water leak. Can you come take a look at it? We might be able to fix it, but we’d probably have to shut the water off completely for a while.”

You sighed heavily and pulled off your gloves. “Always something new, isn’t it?” you said dryly. “Yeah, I’ll come take a look now. Lead the way.”

You passed through the factory floor, noting that the graffiti discovered the day before had been freshly painted over as Daryl had demanded. Carol and Eugene were bent over a table in deep discussion over some new plan. Your stomach flipped as it always did as you passed the oven where Negan used to heat his iron or branding rods. You turned your eyes away.

Soon you were on the upper floors, walking through the dim hallways. It always felt eerily quiet up there. The resident you were following pointed ahead to the next doorway and then stopped to grab some work gloves from a pile of gear set in the hallway. You passed him and stopped in the doorway, expecting to see the group of other people working, but the room was empty. And there was no sign of a water leak. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “Hey, are you sure this is—”

And then everything went black.

Carol was walking somewhat aimlessly back and forth across the factory floor, weaving through the supplies and little bunched groups of people. She craned her neck trying to see if she could spot you anywhere. The two of you had planned to meet for the evening meal after everyone was done for the day but Carol was suddenly realizing she hadn’t seen you since that morning.

Her stomach began to churn. She bolted toward outside where evening was beginning to fall. The garden beds cast long, deep shadows between them, but she didn’t find you crouched among them. The final place she checked was the room you shared with Daryl, now mainly bare of your items since the two of you had begun packing your belongings to leave. Daryl had already taken his few things away on his bike.

There was no sign of you.

Her heart started to pound. She’d questioned everyone she could think of as to your whereabouts. Where could you possibly be? An anxious thought flitted into her mind. Her stomach tightened into a fist. It wasn’t like you not to arrive somewhere you said you would…

The last thing to do was to search the rarely used upper floors. She knew a crew had been working up there earlier in the day, collecting and hauling scrap metal to be reused to patch the roof and fences. Perhaps something had come up and you were still up there assisting with a problem.

Her boots made a lonely, echoing sound as she rushed around corner after corner. There was a weighty silence and the farther up she wandered, the sicker she felt. Something was seriously wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She called your name out but it strangely didn’t seem to pierce the thick vapor of silence in front of her. Every step increased her heart rate and poured adrenaline into her bloodstream. She felt almost shaky as she loosened her knife in its sheath. Just in case, she thought. In case of what?

Another minute or two passed as she searched. Each moment felt excruciatingly long. And then all of a sudden, her breath caught in her throat. “Oh my God. Y/N!” Carol bolted toward the crumpled form halfway down the hall in front of her. “Oh, God…” The front of your shirt was soaked with blood and you were lying on the cold floor unconscious. Your face was bruised and swollen. There were cuts and smears of blood on your skin. But what held her attention horrifically was that whoever had done this to you had taken a knife and began to carve a word into your chest, just below your collar bone. SA and part of a V. Carol didn’t need to guess what they’d intended to spell. They were making a gruesome point. Her hands shook as they hovered over you for a moment. She said your name again and then gently clasped your face and gripped your arm. She jostled you a little. “Wake up. It’s Carol! Please, wake up!”

You began to stir a little and a grimace contorted your features.

“Oh, thank God,” Carol sighed, hanging her head in relief for a very brief moment before the nausea seemed to rise into her throat again at your condition. “Y/N? Open your eyes, hun!”

You let out a small pained noise and then your eyes did open blearily. You were immediately trying to sit up, pushing yourself up on the palms of your hands but your head felt split in two and your muscles felt rubbery and weak. “Fuck,” you murmured.

“Whoa—okay. Easy! Take it easy!”

You reached up and touched the back of your head. It was swollen with a lump and tender and your fingers came away slightly sticky. You looked down at them and registered the deep color of drying blood. Your chest burned. You looked down to see that the whole front of your shirt was stained crimson. Your body ached and panged with sharp pains. You could feel your heartbeat in your face.

“Is anything broken? Can you stand up?” Carol asked, her brow heavy over her eyes, but the light inside frantic and quickly turning furious.

“I don’t think anything is broken,” you said softly. Your jaw ached. You gave it an exploratory wiggle left and right and immediately regretted it. Your bottom lip was split and swollen. You winced again. “What the fuck?” you murmured. “I mean what the ever-loving, royal fuck?” you growled. The hot rage welling up in you was pushing some of the pain back.

“Let’s just get you up and off the floor, okay? Slowly.” Carol helped you to your feet. Your head swam and you squeezed your eyes shut, not letting go of her hands for a long moment until you felt steadier. Her expression said enough about what you must look like… “What happened? Do you know who did this to you?” she asked.

You shook your head a little, absently pressing a hand to the burning sensation on your chest, but you stopped as the burn surged when your palm landed flush on your skin. You took in a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. “No. Well—I saw one of them… they lured me up here. Told me there was a water leak they found while doing the scrapping and—and then someone hit me on the head from behind and I was knocked out. But I don’t know why. I mean, why me?”

Carol’s expression was taught. Anger swirled in her eyes. She knew exactly why. You couldn’t see it yet, but the word was partially carved into your chest. That graffiti on the wall out on the factory floor was just the tip of the iceberg. Things were rotting here just under the surface, and since you’d once been Negan’s wife, she imagined you were a perfect target for those who wanted to make a point. “Let me see the back of your head,” she said. There was a small split in the skin where you’d been struck, your hair stained rusty red, but she didn’t think you’d need stitches there and she was extremely relieved that it wasn’t worse... not much anyone could do from something like a skull fracture in the apocalypse. She sighed heavily as another flame of rage wicked upwards in her chest. “Okay… Let’s get you back to your room. Hold onto my arm. Can you make it?”

You nodded, gripping her to steady yourself on your shaky legs, and allowed her to lead you away. You glanced back over your shoulder and were sickened to see the smears of your blood shockingly deep red on the tile behind you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Carol had you sitting on the edge of your bed and she set down a first aid kit beside you. You were looking up at her from behind a wall of swelling and bruising on your face. You tenderly wiggled your jaw again, testing opening and closing your mouth. It felt ready to lock up. She could tell from the way you’d moved on the walk back and how you were slumped slightly forward now that there was probably substantial bruising beneath your clothes that she couldn’t see. Your movements were tentative and cautious.

You hadn’t looked in the mirror yet. You were afraid to. The pain was bad enough. The fogginess in your head was bad enough. You were worried if you saw the results of the beating, it would only make it worse, more real.

Carol began unpacking supplies. “Tell me everything you remember,” she said gently.

You shook your head. “Not much. Like I said, I was out working in the raised garden beds and somebody came up to me.”

“Who?” Carol pressed you. “If you don’t know their name, what did they look like?”

“Uhh… his name starts with a ‘G’ I think… Give me a second.” You filed through names in your head until you got the right one. “Graham. I think that’s it… He’s tall. Long black hair past his shoulders.”

“Okay,” Carol nodded, opening an alcohol swab. “What did he say exactly?”

“He asked if I could come look at a leak they found while they were moving all the scrap metal. He said they thought they could fix it but they’d have to turn the water off. I went to see and I was barely in the doorway of the room he pointed out. There wasn’t a water leak. I was just standing there, about to say something and—something hit the back of my head. I don’t really remember anything after that. Some foggy pain maybe but… mostly nothing.”

“Do you think there were others waiting up there? Or could it have just been him?” Carol asked, dabbing at a wound on the side of your face. You shut your eyes from the fumes of the alcohol. She was starting to worry about just how many traitors could be in the walls.

“There was at least one other person. When I got hit, I was looking back at him ten feet away from me down the hall.”

Carol sighed heavily and nodded. “Okay.” Her eyes drifted down to the cruelly carved letters on your chest. Your chin tilted down as you tried to look but her hand on your shoulder stopped you. “Hold on,” she said. Her face contorted with emotion she was trying to hold back. “Better you see this now. I’m so sorry.”

You gave her a perplexed look. You knew you were beat up but what was she—

Carol grabbed the small mirror off the little sink in the corner and held it up so you could see yourself for the first time. Initially, all you saw was the swelling and bruising on your face but then your breath caught in your throat. S-A- and part of a V, cut into your skin. The cuts were deep and she had already had to apply some butterfly bandages to hold certain spots closed. No wonder your skin had burned and stung there since you came back to consciousness.

You felt like you were about to be sick and Carol must have seen you pale because she hastily put down the mirror and gripped your shoulders again as if she was afraid you were going to faint. “Whoa. Deep breaths.”

Your eyes shut and you did your best to swallow down the nausea. “What the fuck,” you muttered, reeling. You blinked away angry tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get you cleaned up and then I think I have some of my special ointment in my bag. If you apply it at least once a day it’ll minimize any scarring…”

You let out a wry laugh. “Minimize,” you repeated. “But I’ll still have half of ‘Saviors’ carved into me for the rest of my life.” Tears burned in your eyes again. It wasn’t bad enough what you had gone through with Negan, with his men, with the war—now this? Would it ever be over?

Carol winced. “I’m so sorry… I had no idea things were this bad here.”

You sniffled and mopped gently at the tears that had broken out onto your cheeks. “I knew they were pretty bad but—can’t say I saw anything like this coming.”

“Well, who could? It’s—horrific.” She gave you a sympathetic look and then surprised you by pulling you gently into a hug for a long moment. Her eyes were teary now too when she pulled back, but she pulled herself together quickly. Back to business, she returned to the first aid kit and continued her ministrations. Your mind was endlessly turning.

“I wonder why they didn’t finish,” you suddenly said softly.

“Mmm,” Carol hummed, nodding, tossing down another soiled gauze pad and reaching for a new one. “They must have gotten interrupted. Maybe heard someone in that part of the building.”

Your eyes lifted and met hers. She paused at the expression on your face. “Do you think they were going to kill me? Leave me there with—with this cut into me to make a statement?”

Carol’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “I don’t—I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her tone flat. Your question had been asked matter-of-factly and Carol was suddenly reminded of all you had gone through in the war and even before any of them had met you, when you’d just been a stranger with a mysterious backstory. “But obviously they knew they couldn’t take you in a fair fight. Fucking cowards,” she growled. “Had to ambush you to even have a chance.”

You sighed, shaking your head again, your eyes dropping to your hands. “They sure beat the shit out of me though,” you mused aloud. “It’s probably good Daryl isn’t here. He’d lose it,” you said, fiddling with another gauze pad which Carol took out of your hands and taped down over the now cleaned cuts below your collarbone.

She cleared her throat. “About that…”

You met her blue eyes again. “You radioed him? He’s probably way out of range by now. He’s probably already in Hilltop,” you said.

“Rosita rode out on the quad immediately to get within range. Eugene is doing a headcount as we speak to see who, if anyone, is missing…”

Another wry laugh left you and you nodded. “That’s why you took so long. And I just thought you couldn’t find the damn kit,” you said, shooting her a look, tears burning in your eyes. “Daryl is gonna go on a rampage,” you said softly.

Carol nodded. “Probably. But he should be here with you. And if I didn’t radio him, I’d be on the receiving end of that rampage. And I think we should focus it on the assholes that did this to you instead.”

You nodded and a sob tried to burst out of you. You suppressed it as best you could and it came out as a hitched breath. “Yeah,” you said, your voice a little strained.

Carol quickly grabbed you into a hug again. “Everything is going to be okay. Daryl will be here soon and we will figure this out.”

You hugged her back and nodded into her shoulder, grateful again for your found family.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was there in an hour, stomping through The Sanctuary with Eugene at his heels, mostly ignoring the stream of words out of the mullet-headed Texan’s mouth. Rosita finally grabbed Eugene’s arm and stopped him, clearly realizing Daryl wasn’t hearing a word of it, didn’t give a shit about anything but going to see you. He was at the door of the little room the two of you had shared before anyone could come to tell you he’d arrived.

Daryl froze and made himself knock lightly, rather than barely in. The last thing he wanted was to startle you. His stomach turned as he waited to hear your voice on the other side, inviting him in. “S’me,” he drawled, the jittery feeling that permeated his body translating to an ever-so-slight tremble in his voice.

You sat up in bed. “Come in,” you said hurriedly, already feeling the tears burning in your eyes again. You were in clean clothes now and thoroughly patched up thanks to Carol, but that wasn’t going to change how rough you looked and how hard it was going to be for Daryl to see it.

The door opened slowly, measuredly, and he took shape in the doorway. He froze for only a split second as his eyes roamed over your face, taking in the swelling and already deep purple bruises. Then he rushed to you and hugged you in against him gently. That was all it took for you to go to pieces against him, clinging to his leather jacket. “Jesus, what the hell did they do to ya? ‘M sorry. ‘M so sorry I wasn’t here. I shouldn’ta left ya. ‘M so sorry, babe. I shoulda been here,” he said into your hair, kissing you on the top of the head, holding you gently so he wouldn’t hurt you but firmly so you knew you were safe.

You sniffled and mopped the tears from your cheeks as he clasped your face and brushed your hair back. “Don’t—don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” you said, looking up into his blue eyes. They were stormy and turbulent. “You couldn’t know…”

“Lemme see ya,” he said, looking you over. His heart ached as you showed him the bruising on your stomach and ribs. “Sit back. Rest,” he said, climbing into bed beside you where you were propped up against the headboard and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You tucked in against him. He left a kiss in your hair again.

“Did—did Rosita tell you what they—that—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t tell me anything specific except that some assholes had hurt ya bad, beat ya up, and that I needed to get back here,” he said. “Tell me what?” His stomach churned around a hard knot. His mind began inventing all kinds of horrific scenarios immediately. What did you mean?

You could see him whirling and quickly tried to explain. “I was unconscious but—” Your hand landed on the gauze pad taped over the wounds below your collarbone. His eyes flitted down to it. “They used a knife and—” You couldn’t get any more words out so you simply lifted the bandage to show him, gingerly peeling back the medical tape and bandaging. Daryl froze completely. Every part of him stilled. He stared at the brutality someone had inflicted on you and hot rage boiled inside him. More tears leaked out onto your cheeks as you saw what it was doing to him to see that on you. You hastily covered it back up.

He softened again, coming back to himself, letting his anger flow away, and wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs. “Hey—it don’t matter to me what they—how they marked ya like that. Ya know that, right? Ya got every right to feel however ya feel ‘bout it. Ya do. But to me—” He shook his head. “It don’t matter, okay? I just see you. It’s all gonna be alrigh’.”

You collapsed into him again, finally letting yourself completely break down, wondering how the fuck you’d gotten so lucky as to find this man. He held you against his chest, his strong arms securely around you. He could feel the bump on the back of your head where they’d hit you. He could feel the swelling on your face and under your clothes, and he internally yelled at himself for leaving you behind, even if it was only supposed to be for a couple days, even though no one would have guessed that anything like this would happen, even though he knew how strong and capable you were. “‘M so sorry,” he murmured again. “I shouldn’t have left ya here… here of all places, with them.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’m gonna track down every one of these assholes and put ‘em in the fuckin’ ground,” he growled.

You couldn’t stand him blaming himself and you pulled yourself together. “It’s not your fault, Daryl. And—maybe… maybe I should have known something like this could happen…”

His brow furrowed. “What do ya mean?” He took a beat, his heart seemingly suspended somewhere in a gaping space that had opened in his chest. “Did somethin’ happen before this?”

You bit your bottom lip, your eyes still glassy. “No. No, not exactly. Nothing happened. I mean, people have—said things to me before. Made comments. I just—”

Daryl frowned, his brow heavy over his eyes, casting them in a deep shadow. “Like what? What kinda comments?”

You sighed and turned to face him more fully. You rested your hands on his sides. “Just—little shitty things. Because of what I’d been here,” you explained. “As Negan’s wife…”

Daryl was boiling again inside with anger. “Ya weren’t ever his wife,” he said. “That word means somethin’ else.” Your fingers went to touch the wedding band on your ring finger, the one Daryl had made with his own hands and given to you.

“Yeah. I know. It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly. “I just wrote them off and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want it to be a big deal and I knew how upset you’d get. It just felt like shitty people being shitty at the time. Mostly…”

“Mostly,” he growled.

“I never thought anything like this would happen. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Daryl sighed and ducked his head, running his hands gently up and down the soft bare skin on your arms, marred with bruises and abrasions. “Don’t apologize. Ya didn’t do anythin’ wrong. I get why ya didn’t tell me… and yer righ’. I woulda beat the shit out of anybody sayin’ or doin’ anythin’ like that to ya. But tha’s my job. I wanna protect you.”

“I know,” you said. “We’ve just had so much on our plate here. I didn’t want to add something else. And I never thought—I didn’t think—” You grimaced as a wave of pain and dizziness hit you.

“I know. I know. Hey—it’s okay. We’ve talked ‘bout this enough. Ya need to rest. ‘M here now. S’okay.”

“I am really tired,” you agreed, shutting your eyes and waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

He clasped your face again, his eyes flickering from this injury to that, and then he kissed your swollen lips as gently as he could. You managed to give him an overwhelmed, somewhat sad smile which he returned. “C’mon. Let’s lay down.”

Daryl helped you settle down on the mattress and fitted himself beside you. You tucked yourself against his body, breathed in his smell and safety, and shut your eyes. His fingers brushed through your hair, reassuring and grounding.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning Daryl was awake early while you slept on. He carefully, ever so slowly slipped out of bed and pulled a change of clothes on. He snuck out and headed to find Carol, Eugene, and Rosita.

He spotted Eugene first and nudged his head up in a nod as a greeting. “Well, what d’ya got to tell me?” Daryl asked hurriedly.

“We were short five of the former Saviors at the headcount last night, and five again this mornin’. Carol and Rosita have been questionin’ people all night. We don’t think anyone here knew anything about it. They weren’t exactly gentle with their lines of inquiry.”

Daryl rubbed a hand over his mouth and nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’. As I thought then... Cowards took off right afterwards.”

“Indeed. I suspect they knew Justice’s hammer would fall hard and swift on them once their atrocious deed was discovered,” Eugene agreed. “No way to know now where they’re headed.”

Daryl sighed. “Hopefully righ’ into a fuckin’ herd of walkers,” he drawled. “Alrigh’. Well, we need to send out runners to get word out to The Kingdom and Alexandria so ev’rybody can watch out for those pieces of shit... Y/N and I will take news to Hilltop today, and keep our eyes open for any sign of ‘em on the way. If I get sight of ‘em, I’mma strangle ‘em with my bare fuckin’ hands…” He sighed again, even more heavily this time. “Thanks. For everythin’ ya’ll did last night.”

“Of course,” Eugene said sincerely. “How is her condition today?”

Daryl sighed and shook his head. “She’s still asleep. She was exhausted. ‘M gonna get back up there. I dun want her wakin’ up here alone and ‘m still afraid there could be somebody in here—” he hesitated to speak his fear lest it become real. “She’ll be alrigh’. She’s tough. But she was shaken up pretty good and I can’t believe how bad they beat her up... and what they did,” he said vaguely, referring to the letterds on your skin. “But she’ll be okay.” He patted Eugene on the shoulder gratefully and headed straight back to you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

With hasty goodbyes and thank you’s to your close, chosen family, still at The Sanctuary you departed for Hilltop on the back of Daryl’s bike. You held extra tightly to him the whole way, and often his right hand left the handlebars to smooth over yours for a moment. The Sanctuary shrank smaller and smaller behind you and then disappeared into a cloud of dust. Neither of you knew it at the time, but you’d never come to that place again while it was a semi-functional community. It would be only ruins when you sheltered there during the storm eight years after the war.

On arriving at Hilltop, Maggie threw her arms around you and tears of shock filled her eyes when she saw your bruised and swollen face. Enid insisted on checking you over again, but gave you the all clear after much expressed anger and concern. Maggie quickly carved out a space for you and Daryl to stay, close to the room she shared with baby Hershel in the big house up on the hill.

Your body had stiffened overnight and on the bike ride. Every movement caused aches and pains to shoot through you and Daryl was attentive and worried as you settled into your new home. When you settled into bed at first, Daryl kissed every part of you where he could see a bruise or injury. His fingers were light and gentle on your skin, and you were amazed as you always were that he could be so soft when he was so strong. Finally, the sun sank below the horizon and you were again laying side by side, your head tucked up under his chin, listening to the whoosh of air in his lungs and his steady heartbeat.

“I had an idea,” you said softly, breaking a long but comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“Maybe when I’m all healed up, if—if it scars bad, I can get someone to do a tattoo over it to cover it up.”

Daryl smiled. You were already thinking ahead to the future, thinking of solutions. That was a good sign. He hugged you more tightly against him. “What would ya get?”

“I don’t know. Something pretty… to cover up something so ugly,” you mused aloud. “Like, there are these flowers that only bloom once in their lifetime and it can take decades to happen.”

“Nah, tha’s no good,” Daryl said quickly.

“What? Why?” you asked, looking up at him with surprise from beneath your lashes.

“It don’t fit ya. Yer bloomin’ all the time. Every day. Ya always have been, even when ya couldn’t see it,” he drawled. He pressed a kiss softly to your forehead.

You smiled at him sleepily.

“Was that too cheesy?” he asked with a gruff laugh.

“No. It was just the right amount,” you said. “Okay… maybe I’ll just get ‘Property of Daryl Dixon’,” you joked.

“No good. Ya ain’t nobody’s property. Ya belong only to yerself. ‘M just lucky that you share with me,” he said, his fingertips tracing vague shapes on the bare skin of your hip, exposed from the way your shirt had draped.

You sighed and nuzzled in against his neck. “I was only kidding,” you said, closing your eyes.

“I know. But it’s true.”

You yawned. “Maybe. But I do also belong to you, by my choice. I have since that night you fell through that rotten floor,” you said with a laugh. Daryl’s chest moved as he joined you with a low chuckle. In another minute, you were asleep. Daryl whispered ‘I love you’ into your hair, and shut his eyes too.

He meant what he’d said—he’d find whoever had hurt you and end them if he could, but after that, he wouldn’t allow the shadow of the past to dim another day. He’d walk with you forward, facing the sun in the same way you’d been doing together since the end of the war. And he hoped this time all of it, all the Saviors, The Sanctuary, the fear and pain, was really behind both of you.

#sacrifice #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfic

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