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emotionalcadaver · 5 months

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Part 8: The Doctor Is In

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Vanessa has a problem that only Jonathan can help her solve.

Word Count: 3,536

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, specifically semi-public sex and slight choking kink. I want you all to know that I giggled for about five minutes when I came up with the title for this.

Masterlists: Main • Series

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They worked long hours, usually not getting home until deep into the night. Often they were both too exhausted to do much more than brush their teeth and collapse into bed. It was fortunate that they shared a workplace, or else they probably wouldn’t have gotten to see each other much at all.

Vanessa fiddled with her pen, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. She shifted in her seat, office quiet save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Usually she didn’t mind the ticking, but today the sound made her feel jittery and annoyed. Crossing and uncrossing her legs, she tried to get comfortable. Her clothes felt too hot, the fabric a harsh scratch against her skin. Shaky fingers picked up the file she had been going through, trying to force her mind to concentrate on the little black words typed out onto the paper. She only got halfway through the third line before her mind once again began to wander, filling her head with lewd suggestions that caused her to rub her thighs together. Flinging the file back down onto her desk, she leaned back in her chair, giving up trying to focus.

Perhaps it had been a longing to recapture some of the spontaneity that had been lost in the years they had spent together, or perhaps it was simply because she had woken up that morning so unfathomably horny she could barely stand it. And no amount of looking over a patient's files or filing reports could take her mind off of the wet ache between her thighs.

She glanced back over at the clock on the wall, ran the numbers through her head, index finger tapping in time with the ticking of the clock against the surface of her desk.

Fuck it.

She stood sharply from her chair and walked swiftly from her office, stopping only a moment to lock the door behind her before she was moving down the hallway towards where the chief administrator's office was located. The door was heavy as she pushed it open just enough to slip inside, kicking it closed behind her and turning the lock into place.

Jonathan was bent over his desk, scribbling away at something, eyes snapping up when she opened the door, annoyed, undoubtedly, at whoever had walked into his office without knocking. The harshness in them softened when he saw it was her, glacial blue melting into the soft color of the ocean. He tilted his head, setting down his pen as he leaned back in his chair. A few strands of dark hair had fallen to curl against his forehead and he pushed them back into place with a pale hand. Vanessa swallowed hard, eyes trained on those long, clever fingers. She wanted to settle herself in his lap and ride him so hard that he couldn’t even remember his own name. Or maybe she could throw him onto the couch positioned against the wall in front of his desk, hold him close until she was unable to tell where she ended and he began.

She strode across the room to him, barely giving him enough time to let out a startled “what–” before she was situated in his lap and kissing him.

He stiffened for only a brief moment in surprise at her sudden movements before he melted into her. Spindly arms wrapped around her waist, plush lips parting immediately to kiss back just as deeply. Huh. It seemed that she wasn’t the only one who had recently grown sexually frustrated after all.

Her own small, slim fingers traced over the shape of his jaw, brushing along his neck before they came to rest on his chest, palm planted flat there to feel the warmth of him even through the layers of the sweater and button-down shirt he wore. One of Jonathan’s hands wound through her hair, carefully removing the tie and pins to let it fall in a waterfall of thick black waves down her back. The kiss began to grow in desperation, hands bunching in hair and fabric, the chair creaking beneath them. Jonathan let out a low groan against her lips, and she realized that she had begun to unconsciously grind herself down onto him. A soft moan of her own slipped out at the feeling of the growing bulge in his pants pressing against her.

Their kiss broke, cheeks pressed together as they panted. Vanessa petted a hand through his dark hair before removing his glasses with careful fingers, setting the delicate frames gently onto the surface of the desk behind her. He blinked up at her, those blue eyes even more intense without the barrier of glass between them as they bored into her soul, peered into her mind. She tilted her head, lips coming to brush over his ear.

“I have a problem,” she murmured. Jonathan visibly shuddered, an eyebrow quirking as his lips twitched upwards.

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm,” she drew out the last syllable as teasingly as she dared. He continued to look at her with those fond piercing eyes, leaned back casually in his chair, looking utterly relaxed and composed. Here she was about to jump out of her skin, the arousal and pent up frustrations in the pit of her stomach making it impossible to focus on anything, and he was sitting there looking gorgeous and fully put together. Even with her settled in his lap with his large erection pressed against her. And if the way his eyes sparked was an indication, he planned to toy with her before he gave her what she wanted.

“And what exactly can I do to help you with this…problem?” he licked his lips, looking at her in a way that was near wolfish. Vanessa considered him for a moment, weighing her options in her mind, thought back, suddenly, to the insistent ticking of the clock in her own office. As much as she would like to continue to play and tease with him, she had neither the time nor the patience for either. Instead she growled in frustration and dove forward, kissing him in a way that was utterly frantic.

He captured her in his arms, wrapping them around her waist, practically crushing her to him. Hands tore insistently at each other’s clothes, wanting them gone but not willing to bother with undressing. She rode her hips down into him, feeling him meet her movements with his own desperate ruts until they were effectively dry humping against each other.

Jonathan trembled beneath her and she was struck with the realization that, while he might’ve been much better at hiding it than she was, the man was just as needy. His fingers flexed where they had come to land on her waist, holding her in place as he rolled his hips upwards against her. Vanessa let out a sound that could have been a sob. He smirked and tilted his head to the side again.

“Is this what you want?” he rasped out, another thrust and grind making her whimper, nodding wantonly. One hand remained planted firmly on her hip while the other wound in her hair, tugging lightly to encourage her to bend backwards, so her chest was thrusted up towards his face. The top few buttons on her shirt were popped open by pale fingers, and then Jonathan’s face was tilted down to press a kiss to the now exposed skin, following along the hem of her bra, and nuzzling against her. His pale hand wrapped briefly around her throat, squeezing ever so slightly and making her core clench almost painfully in need.

“Please,” she hadn’t even meant for the world to slip out. Jonathan’s eyebrows rose up and he leaned back, eyes half amused and half very aroused.

“What was that?”

Had it been any other situation she would have snarked back at him, but she was fairly certain that if he didn’t fuck her right now she was going to explode, her pride nowhere to be found.

Oh, she was never going to hear the end of this.

“Please, fuck me,” it was soft and breathy, coming out in a way that could only be described as begging. Something feral lit up behind Jonathan’s eyes, his pupils blown wide as he lunged forward and kissed her again.

A large hand palmed eagerly at her clothed breasts, Vanessa’s own hands fumbling to help him undo the final few buttons on her shirt, so that he could slide his warm hand in past the material of her bra to run a thumb over her nipple.

“My beautiful Nes,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“Jonathan–” she croaked out, hips jerking against him.

“We have to–shit–we have to be quiet,” he breathed out as her hand suddenly cupped him through his pants, fingers massaging over his stiffening length. He turned his head to kiss her again. It felt like his hands were everywhere on her all at once, both soothing and igniting the fiery need for his touch. She sank her teeth into his bottom lip in a savage, demanding bite and he snarled at her, suddenly jerking and moving, hands grabbing her thighs to hold her steady against him as he stood. Vanessa scrabbled at his shoulders, more in surprise than out of any fear that he would ever drop her. He carried her from his chair to the couch, settling her on her back across the cushions with him on top of her, body slotted perfectly between her thighs.

His eyes flickered down her body, a light tisk on his lips. “My poor Nessa. So needy and I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

“Jonathan, please. Please.”

He purred at her begging, body curling over hers, long finger stroking her cheek. “Shh, love. I know; it’s alright,” he kissed the cheek he had been caressing, surprisingly tender despite the devilish look in his eyes. “I’m going to make you feel better.”

He undid the fastenings on her pants quickly, pulled them down her legs and then he was kissing up them, slipping her thighs up and over his shoulders.

She had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to avoid letting out a loud moan as that wonderful silver tongue of his slid over her. Clenching one hand in his hair while the other palmed at her own breast, her eyes closed in bliss. In the back of her mind, however, that pesky little clock was still ticking, and she wanted his cock in her before their time was up.

She shouldn’t have been worried, though, as Jonathan set to work feasting on her urgently, tongue caring for her clit while two long fingers entered her and began to pump insistently. Vanessa shuddered as he worked her over, so pent up that it only took a few careful licks and pumps of his lovely fingers to have her already teetering dangerously close to an orgasm. A few more sucks to her clit, his fingers crooked just so as they moved, and her orgasm rolled over her in sudden, overwhelming waves, head spinning while she clung to him.

He gave her a moment to come down, crawling back on top of her and nuzzling at her cheek. At some point he had lost his sweater, leaving him in only a rumpled white button down and dress pants. Turning her head to kiss him lazily, her hands fumbled with his belt and zipper. His hips shifted, helping her to push them down just far enough to free his hard and weeping cock. The sound he made in his throat when she wrapped her hand around him and began to stroke could only be described as desperate.

Guiding him to her entrance, she let go when his own hand took over and instead gripped his shoulders. Her body trembled as he ran his cock through her folds, collecting the wetness gathered there. Her previous orgasm had done little to quench her desperate thirst for him. She needed him in her; needed him to fill that empty space inside of her or she was sure she was going to die, or have what little was left of her sanity crumble away into nothingness.

“Jonathan,” she whispered. He gripped her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him as he finally nudged against her entrance.

“Quiet,” he reminded her and she nodded, the combination of his stern blue eyes on her and the deep rasp of his voice making her clench around nothing. He kissed her as he sunk into her, lips muffling their combined soft groans. The inexplicable feeling of him stretching her wide, filling her so completely, made her almost want to sob in relief. Once he was fully sheathed he hovered over her patiently, waiting for her to give him the go-ahead that she was adjusted enough for him to start moving.

“Vanessa,” Jonathan whispered, a hand braced on the armrest of the couch above her head for stability, the other brushing hair out of her face before fluttering to trace the shape of her lips. His hips began to roll in deep, measured thrusts, and all the while he continued to softly murmur her name. With his eyes boring into hers, dark hair falling from where it had been pushed back to rest against his forehead, cheeks flushed, and plush lips parted, Vanessa wasn’t sure if he looked more like an angel or the devil. Her hands traced along the lean shape of his arms, running along his chest and collarbone. He often reminded her a bit of a bird; delicate, slender, and beautiful in the way he was formed.

She slipped one hand up under the hem of his shirt, and when his thrusts began to increase in force, she dug her nails hard into the skin of his back and raked down, no doubt leaving angry red scratches. Jonathan made an animalistic noise that could only be described as utterly feral. Vanessa smirked, stretching up to suck a mark into his collarbone. Her Jonathan so did love it when she left her marks on him.

His movements were growing more wild, fucking her so hard she couldn’t have come up with a single coherent thought if she’d wanted to. Her head spun, dizzy with pleasure, holding him tight to her as she tried to match the frantic rhythm he had set. Her core clenched tight around him, pulled a raw grunt from his throat, and then those long, wonderful fingers were between her legs again, rubbing over her clit. Her legs jumped from their place wrapped around his waist and her hands scrabbled at his chest, pulling at his half undone shirt like she could somehow get him even close to her. Jonathan kissed her savagely, all teeth and hungry tongue as he ravaged her. All the while that long, thick cock continued to pump in and out of her.

“Close,” she choked out in warning, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm swell up in the pit of her stomach. Jonathan nodded, shifting his hips ever so slightly and–

She barely managed to catch the cry in her throat by biting at his shoulder, his cock rubbing up against her g-spot with every stroke. A strangled sound left Jonathan, eyes heavily lidded, panting. His fingers and cock played her like a violin, working flawlessly together. Her hand clapped over her mouth a moment before she came, muffling the loud, uncontrollable moan that left her throat as her orgasm washed over her. Jonathan only lasted a few more thrusts, hips pressing against hers as his cock twitched and then he came and came and came inside of her. Vanessa barely managed to slap her hand over his mouth as well to contain what would undoubtedly have otherwise been a particularly massive moan.

Jonathan slumped forward on top of her, body twitching against hers as he rode out the last remnants of his orgasm. His cheek pressed to her forehead as they both panted, bodies a bit sweaty and thoroughly rumpled. Soft lips pressed affectionately to her temple, before he winced as he pulled out, readjusting so that they could lay beside each other on the couch. Vanessa sighed happily, allowing her head to rest on his chest while she snuggled into his arms. The man blinked at her lazily, eyes sated and satisfied; no doubt he had needed that just as much as she did, if the amount in which he had just came was any indication. His fingers carded gently through her hair before tracing along her cheekbone.

“Feel better?” his voice was still a low rasp. She snorted a bit, turned her head to kiss his fingertips.

“Yes, Doctor Crane.”

He poked her in the shoulder, eyes narrowed playfully at her snark.

“Don’t ever think that I’ve heard you beg quite like that before.”

She felt her cheeks flush and burrowed her face in his neck to hide from his amused eyes. “Shut up.”

He laughed, arms tightening around her. “I’m not complaining.”

“Mm,” she pressed a kiss to the bite she had left on his shoulder. They remained there for a few more moments, just holding each other before Jonathan checked his watch and groaned.

“I have an appointment in seven minutes,” he said with no small amount of regret. Vanessa nodded, opening the eyes she had closed while basking in their shared warmth. They sat up on the couch, shared a look and then a soft laugh as they took in the state of themselves: both half undressed, the clothes that weren’t scattered over the office thoroughly rumpled. Jonathan reached for the box of tissues on the table next to the couch, took a few for himself and then offered the box to her. She cleaned herself up carefully, watching as Jonathan stood, refastening his pants and buttoning up his shirt. She didn’t miss the way that his hand grazed over the love bite she had left on him, nor the small smile that twitched at his lips. Her own, somewhat unsteady fingers worked to refasten the buttons on her shirt, pulling her underwear and pants back up. Jonathan was looking around the office, squinting a bit.

“Glasses are on the desk,” she offered helpfully.

“Ah. Thanks,” he slipped them back on, blinking as his eyes readjusted. Trying to smooth down her clothes, Vanessa stood, legs still a bit shaky as she stooped to pick up his sweater crumpled up on the ground and handed it to him. She readjusted his tie after he pulled it on, his own hands smoothing his hair back into place. For a moment she considered trying to put her hair back up into its bun from earlier, but there was no mirror in his office and she frankly couldn’t be bothered; instead simply scooping up the pins and hair tie deposited on his desk and dumping them into her pocket. She turned to find Jonathan shoving a few files into his briefcase before shrugging on the suit jacket folded over the top of his chair. He looked unfairly composed and put together for someone who had just had mind blowing sex on their office couch less than ten minutes ago.

He strode over to her, fingers smoothing down her hair and readjusting the collar of her shirt for her. He cradled her cheek, her hand coming up to cover his, thumb stroking along his knuckles. She allowed her head to rest more heavily against his palm for a moment and smiled softly.

“Let’s leave early tonight,” he said, eyes suddenly glowing almost mischievously. Vanessa let out a mock gasp.

“Jonathan Crane! Are you suggesting that we play hooky!?”

Jonathan snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure hooky only applies if you skip out on the whole day.”

“Well, I don’t know. You see, my boss is kind of a hard-ass about that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed at her playfully, arm going to wrap around her waist. She giggled, hands resting on his chest.

“I think he might be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

Vanessa laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

His eyes softened, and she was fairly certain that he had just internally melted into an affectionate puddle. He bent, lips soft against hers in a kiss that was quick but couldn’t quite be described as a peck. “I love you too,” he kissed her again, clearly not wanting to leave her. But for now at least, they both needed to get back to work.

“I’ll see you after your appointment,” she promised, internally cringing at the thought of the mountain of paperwork she still had to get through. He nodded and let her go. Following him to the door, she did a quick glance over of the room to make sure they hadn’t left any evidence of their tryst behind.

“Ready?” Jonathan asked, hand hovering over the lock on the door. She nodded and he gave her one last soft smile before he turned the deadbolt, and together they walked out into the hall.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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#not an update #vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x oc #my ocs #my fanfiction #the doctor is in

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drayce-mann · 2 years

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!!WARNING!! This content features: Graphic and violent pieces of writing, mentions of: death, containment/experimentation/torture, bullying, some suggestive dialog, foul language, and probably other things I accidentally skimmed over Word count: 11,905 This is the first bit of writing to what is going to be a massive writing project, currently titled: A Tale From A Wolf's Mouth, or ATFAWM! Due to my writing style being script-like, treat this almost like a pilot to a show! I will try my best to update it weekly. Anyways, enjoy!

(A new line to the throne was just born at the Water Wolf Kingdom. A girl. The king and queen, Riptide and Rivera, decided to name the pup River. All the Water Wolves gathered around to welcome River to the ever expanding family.)

Ocean: “River.”

Riptide, proud of his son: “That’s right! My little genius!”

Ocean: “Mama, upsies!”

(Rivera would lift Ocean up onto her shoulders.)

***

(A couple years later, it was Ocean’s fourth birthday and River’s third birthday. After a nice birthday song, Ocean made a wish that his family would stay by his side forever. With continuing conflict between the Water Wolves and the Flame Clan, tensions were rising. The Water Wolves had a better military, but that won’t stop the Flame Clan. The Flame Clan sent out a group of highly-trained soldiers with extremely high-tech weapons, nicknamed ‘The Stingers.’ When they entered the kingdom, they created a force-field like dome that stopped the Water Wolves from getting to the water. Rivera hid Ocean and River in a cupboard in the castle. She gave Ocean a magical backpack that allowed him to pull anything out of it, including their riches, which were locked away deep underground in what was seemingly a labyrinth. River went to the top of the castle to watch the battle, and Ocean watched through a small hole. Ocean saw Rivera get shot multiple times. She stumbled and fell back. She then had her sword ripped out of her hands and someone lifted her up off the ground. Her head was sliced off by her own sword. Her corpse was tossed to the ground in a bloody, headless mess as her head rolled across the ground. Ocean then curled up into a ball out of fear in the cupboard. The dome was taken away, and The Stingers entered the castle. River flew away, somehow avoiding being spotted. The Stingers couldn’t get to the riches, so they went away, thinking they killed every Water Wolf. Ocean then ran. He was scared, traumatized, and even a bit worried. Ocean spent the night a little far away from home, sitting by the fire. A stranger walked by him and pulled out his phone, then stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.)

Stranger: “I found it. It’s… in my area… it’s staring at me…”

(Ocean flew away, flying about five to ten minutes, before falling asleep in a pond. He continued to live on his own, with no-one to help him for about four months before coming across a facility. Many armed guards brought him in and locked him away, using brute force to do so. His mind was wiped and recognized his name as his tag. As the large, metal door slowly opened, generating very loud, high-pitched screeching that hurt Ocean’s ears, a few men walked in in heavy armor, not knowing how dangerous or deadly Ocean could be. One interesting thing about Water Wolves is that they healed from water. Nobody knows how or why, but that’s one reason why these experiments were being held. As they slowly approached Ocean, he would back up to the wall. When he was at the wall, his tail would droop along with his ears. Ocean had very nice, blue fur, some parts lighter than others. His eyes were a very deep blue. His right ear was a cornflower ear, the top curling down a bit. He had gotten it from his mother. Eventually, the three men that had entered his chamber were standing right in front of him. One of them grabbed him, holding Ocean away from themselves as another one had cut Ocean, blood starting to pour out of the wound. They then shove Ocean into the small pool in the corner of the room, healing him, but leaving a scar. They continue these brutal experiments for an hour before leaving, not having gathered any useful results. Two walls would lift up, revealing two other wolves. One had very beautiful green fur. She was wrapped in what seemed to be the spiky stems to roses, thus the name, Rose. On the other side, one had black and white fur with a static-like buzz all around him. His tail and legs were different, however, having the rainbowish colors of a TV when a LCD panel fails. Ocean would walk over to Rose since she enticed him to)

Rose: “Rough day?”

Ocean: “Yeah.”

(Rose would look over at a flower bed in the corner of the room. A glowing blue flower would start to rise up out of it. A very rare flower that has no name, but can only be grown by Water Wolves. She would get up, grab it, and hand it back to Ocean.)

Rose: “Feeling better?” (She would look at him, smiling)

Ocean: “Yes, thank you.”

Rose: “Don’t mention it! I just want a friend other than… that guy…” (She would point over to Glitch.)

Glitch: “What are you gonna do? Turn me into a flower?” (Glitch would burst out laughing.)

Ocean: “Ignore him.”

Rose: “It’s hard sometimes.”

Ocean: “Sometimes you have to do difficult things.”

(Ocean would pull out a sketch book and start to draw the flower. Rose looked at the drawing on the page on top of it and was kind of creeped out. It showed Ocean being consumed by what seemed to be darkness.)

Ocean: “Are you okay… I never got your name.”

Rose: “Oh, yeah, I’m Rose.”

Ocean: “I’m 0C34-N. Nice to meet you.”

Rose: “And yes, I’m alright.”

Glitch: “Pssst. Hey! New guy! C’mere!”

(Ocean would walk over to him.)

Glitch: “What’s your tag? Mine’s G11-TC.H. Just call me Glitch.”

Ocean: “I’m 0C34-N.”

Glitch: “That’s too long. I won’t remember that. We’ll call you Ocean.”

Ocean: “I like it.”

Glitch: “Now run along, Fishy Boy.” (Glitch would snicker.) “Blueberry.” (Glitch would burst out laughing.)

(Ocean would pull out a dagger and pin him to the ground, holding it up to Glitch’s throat.)

Glitch, shocked and scared: “CH-CH-CHILL, MAN!”

Ocean, angered: “GIVE ME ONE GOOD REASON NOT TO SLICE YOUR THROAT OPEN LIKE GUTTING A FISH!”

Glitch: “LISTEN MAN, I’M SORRY! IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN!”

(Ocean would get up off Glitch and put the dagger away and walk back over to Rose. He would give Glitch a look of pure annoyance and anger as he walked away.)

Ocean: “That should shut him up for a bit.”

(Each passing day, Ocean and Rose’s friendship grew. Granted Ocean was still being tested on in brutal ways, he kept his head up, all because of Rose. About four months had passed, and Ocean created an escape plan. As the doors opened, Ocean had learned to control his powers. He froze the control box by making the water in the pool rush to it and freeze up, making all of the chamber doors in the facility open, releasing everyone. The three of them started running for their lives as the guards were already preoccupied with more dangerous experiments. One of the guards shot at Ocean, but Rose took the hit. Ocean carried Rose and flew far enough away from the facility. Ocean tried to heal her, but it was no use. She decided to confess her recent feelings for him, knowing she was going to die.)

Rose: “Ocean… I don’t have much time left… and… I.. I love you… I know I won’t be the only one to love you this way… just don’t give up… for me…”

(Rose would close her eyes and pass after she said that. This would leave Ocean in tears. Ocean and Glitch would continue to walk, and come across a few small abandoned shacks. They spent the night there with a nice fire.)

Glitch: “Well, Today was crazy, huh?”

Ocean, confused: “Why would she like me that way?”

Glitch: “I dunno. Girls are crazy sometimes.”

Ocean: “I guess you’re right-” (Ocean would suddenly have a flashback, remembering everything he had forgotten. He told Glitch everything.)

Glitch: “Your name was ACTUALLY Ocean this WHOLE TIME!?”

Ocean: “Yeah.”

Glitch, lying: “You see, I’m not surprised, because I can read minds.”

Ocean, being sarcastic : “Right, and I have three heads.”

Glitch: “Well, g’night.”

Ocean: “Goodnight.”

(In the morning, they headed to a nearby town, which was in ruins. Fire could be seen in many spots and the whole place in general gave off a dreadful and eerie vibe. They tried asking people for directions or where they are, but everyone either ignored them or yelled at them for no apparent reason. Everyone walked around in very shifty ways. They came across a demon who seemed nice.)

Glitch: “I don’t think we should approach him…”

Ocean: “Come on, he seems to be the same age as us!” (Ocean would tap the mysterious demon on the shoulder) “Excuse me, sir, uh, do you know where we are?”

???: “Yes.”

Ocean: “Could you tell us?”

(The mysterious demon would look at them) “What are your names?”

Ocean: “I’m Ocean, and behind me, that’s Glitch.”

???: “I’m Nightfall.”

Ocean: “Nice to meet you. We are running away from some people that want to capture us, and we don’t know where we are.”

Nightfall: “This place doesn’t have a name. Other than chaos, of course.”

Ocean: “Then, why don’t we go elsewhere?”

Glitch: “That’s a good idea! This place gives me the creeps!”

Nightfall: “Sure, why not? I could use a change of surroundings.”

Ocean: “Okay, so…” (Ocean would reach into his backpack and pull out a compass.) “We came from the north, so , south, east, or west?”

Nightfall: “West sounds good.”

Glitch: “Does he really have to come? He gives me the same creeps as the rest of this place!”

Ocean: “Okay then, away we go!”

(They had started to fly away at just the right time, as gunshots could be heard behind them.)

Nightfall: “We just barely got out of there alive.”

Glitch: “WE COULD HAVE DIED IF WE STAYED THERE LONGER!?”

Nightfall: “Welcome to the real world, Mr. TV Man.”

Glitch: “HEY! YOU- YOU- YOU-”

Nightfall: “What, glitching a bit?”

(Glitch would calm himself down because he remembered what happened in the facility whenever he attacked anyone)

(After a bit of flying, they found a nice town to stay in for a bit. It was a polar opposite of the previous one they were in. They saw a small building, and it had its doors open. It had no sign on top of it, but it did have a small flier on the door that said ‘All are welcome!’ The three of them thought it was a refuge, so they stayed there.)

Glitch: “So, Ocean, why did you hold a knife up to my throat when I called you blueberry?”

Ocean: “It’s pretty much a slur. A bad word that hurts people’s feelings a lot.”

Glitch: “Oh. Okay.”

Nightfall: “I’m going to go outside and train with my powers and sword for a bit.”

Ocean: “Okay, see ya in a bit then.”

(Glitch would walk up to a group of girls and try to talk to them)

Glitch: “Hi, my name is Glitch!”

One of the girls from the group he was talking to: “EW! WHY IS THERE A RAT TALKING TO US!”

Another one of the girls: “C’mon, ladies.” (She would slap Glitch, making a few tears roll down his cheek as he walked back over to Ocean and laid down.)

Ocean: “Girls are rough, man.”

Glitch, angered and sad: “SAYS THE ONE WHO HAD ONE FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM!”

Ocean: “Hey, that’s not MY fault!”

Glitch: “IT IS YOUR FAULT!”

Ocean: “Maybe those ones just weren’t nice. Try talking to some other ones.”

Glitch: “FINE!” (He would walk over to someone else, when stopped by someone else.)

The random girl that stopped him: “Hey, names Monica. Call me Monny. I saw what those girls did to you, which was mean. This is my friend, Jessica, or Jessy.”

Jessica: “Why are you talking to a mutt?”

Monica: “He is not a mutt!”

Jessica: “Not unless you like him.”

Monica: “As a friend, absolutely.”

Glitch: “I should probably go…”

Jessica: “Yeah, you should.”

Monica: “Just sit over there.” (She would point to a chair next to them.)

(Glitch would go to sit down, but Jessica would stop him. He would accidentally shock her.)

Jessica: “OW! YOU FILTHY ANIMAL! GO. AWAY.”

(Glitch would storm out the building, wiping away tears.)

Monica: “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!? HE LOOKED NICE!”

Jessica: “He looked like some filthy mutt.”

Monica: “You never let me talk to anyone.”

(Ocean would chase after Glitch, catching up to him near a fire pit)

Ocean: “What happened, Glitch?”

Glitch: “I HATE GIRLS!”

Ocean: “But what happened?”

Glitch: “I was just-” (Glitch would be cut off by a sudan sneeze. No build up, just an immediate sneeze. The sneeze landed right into Ocean’s face, making him wipe his face off)

Ocean: “Thanks for that.”

(Glitch would run off again, this time, Ocean would not chase him, knowing He’d come back. At that very moment, Nightfall came back.)

Nightfall: “What happened?”

Ocean: “Glitch just ran off.”

Nightfall: “Just give him time.”

Ocean: “But what if he doesn’t come back-”

Nightfall: “He will. If he’s not back in an hour, I’ll go look for him.”

(Half an hour later, Glitch came back into the building with cuts on his legs)

Ocean: “DUDE!? WHAT HAPPENED!?”

Glitch: “I was bad and-”

Ocean: “STOP! JUST- STOP!” (Ocean would pull out a potion his dad made that could heal just about any wound. He would put a drop on each of Glitch’s legs, healing them right up)

Ocean: “Getting cut like that is bad.”

Nightfall: “Listen, whatever happened, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Glitch, fighting back tears: “I SHOCKED SOMEONE!! THEY CALLED ME A FILTHY ANIMAL!!”

Nightfall: “Did you do it on purpose?”

Glitch: “No.”

Nightfall: “Then it’s fine.”

Glitch: “Okay…”

(Both Glitch and Nightfall would yawn and eventually fall asleep, just like everyone else, but Ocean stayed up all night, and didn’t know why…)

(Nightfall would be the first to awaken, seeing Ocean already awake, seeming as though he had enough energy to run around the world)

Nightfall: “Get good sleep?”

Ocean: “No.”

Nightfall: “What?”

Ocean: “Yeah, I stayed up all night…”

Nightfall: “How did you do that?”

Ocean: “I don’t know.”

Nightfall: “Okay then.”

(They would both look over at Glitch, who was snoring loudly)

Ocean: “That’s who’s been snoring all night…”

Nightfall: “Jeez, can he snore any louder?”

Ocean: “It’s not that loud…”

Nightfall: “You cannot tell me you’ve heard louder-”

Ocean: “I have.”

Nightfall: “Wow.”

Ocean: “Yep.”

Nightfall: “Who?”

Ocean, his voice changing from cheerful to depressed: “My dad…”

Nightfall: “... Is he-”

(Ocean would get up and walk out the building, going into the small nearby pond.)

Nightfall: “Trying to escape me?”

Ocean: “No, I was turning to stone.”

Nightfall: “What?”

Ocean: “It’s complicated.”

Nightfall: “Okay, whatever you say.”

(Jessica would have woken up from Glitch’s snoring, and she went and got a big bucket of water and poured it on him.)

(Glitch would shout out in pain and surprise, and Jessica would laugh.)

Glitch: “WHY DID YOU DO THAT!?”

Monica, just barely waking up: “What happened?”

Jessica: “I shushed the loud mouth.”

Glitch, starting to cry: “WHAT DID I DO!? THAT HURT!!”

Jessica: “Yeah, sure.”

(Glitch would slowly walk out the building with Jessica calling him very disrespectful things. He saw Nightfall and Ocean and ran over to them)

Glitch, still soaking wet and in pain: “Hey- ow- guys- ow!”

Ocean, confused: “Are you okay?”

Glitch: “Burning!”

Ocean: “What?”

Glitch: “Somebody just- ow- poured water- onto- ow- me! And now I hurt. It feels like it burns.”

(Ocean would grab his arm to see if there were any burns, but he would get shocked. Ocean quickly put his arm down.)

Ocean: “It’s electrical burns.”

Glitch: “Huh?”

Ocean: “The thing that makes lights turn on and off can burn you.”

Glitch: “Oh. But- ow- how did that happen?”

Ocean: “Remember how you sometimes shock people?”

Glitch: “Yeah.”

Ocean: “That’s because of electricity.”

Glitch: “Oh.”

Ocean: “Yeah.”

Glitch: “Well, I hate girls and water now!”

Nightfall: “Is he losing his mind?”

Ocean: “I don’t know.”

(Nightfall would go on a small stroll and come across a person he thought he recognized.)

Nightfall: “Hey, I think I saw you in the building or whatever.”

???: “Yeah, my name’s Cocoa.”

Nightfall: “Interesting name. My name’s Nightfall.”

Cocoa: “Nice to meet you.”

(They would both have a small chat as they walked in the same direction, before splitting directions and going opposite ways. This would be the last time Nightfall ever saw Cocoa.)

(They decided to eat the free breakfast the building provided, which wasn’t too shabby. Ocean didn’t eat the bacon, because he was a pescetarian.)

Glitch: “This is a good crowsaunt.”

Ocean: “It's a croissant.”

Glitch: “That’s what I said, crowsaunt.”

Jessica, butting into their conversation, as she did to everyone else: “Say it right, you mutt.”

Nightfall, growling at Jessica: “Get out of here before I slice you open!”

(Jessica would quickly move away from them and never bother them again. Monica would come over to them soon after.)

Monica: “I’m so sorry about her. I’m never talking to her again. And also, Glitch, follow me… I want to show you something… cool…”

(Ocean would signal for him to follow her. Glitch would follow her to a koi pond, where they would both sit down. Glitch would not go near the water.)

Monica: “Why don’t you want to look into the pond?”

Glitch: “Because I know you might push me in.”

Monica: “Now why would I do that?”

Glitch: “I don’t know.”

Monica: “C’mere. Take a look.”

(Glitch would look into the pond and see the koi fish swimming around.)

Monica: “See? Isn’t it relaxing?”

Glitch: “Yeah.”

(They would spend the rest of the day out and about talking and walking around. That night, Glitch and Monica slept together. His snoring didn't wake her up, however, early that morning, Jessica walked up to him just as he was waking up and leaned over to slap him. He sneezed on her and she slapped him harder than ever. All the commotion would also wake Monica up.)

Jessica: "YOU MONSTER! YOU FILTHY, DIRTY MUTT! YOU DISGUSTING CREATURE!"

Glitch, tears running down his face: "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO! I'M SO SORRY!"

Monica, still sleepy: "Jessica, what did you do!?"

Jessica: "That stupid rat decided to sneeze on me!"

Glitch, sobbing: "I DIDN'T MEAN TO!"

(Monica would give him a hug.)

Monica: "Glitch, it's okay. I'm sure you never meant it."

Jessica: "YES HE DID! IF HE DOES IT AGAIN, HE'S DEAD!"

(Glitch would run off, sobbing, and Monica would chase after him.)

Monica: “GLITCH, WAIT!!”

(Glitch would stop and Monica would catch up.)

Monica: “Glitch, please!”

(Glitch would keep backing away from her, afraid he was going to do something wrong again.)

Monica: “Glitch, it’s okay.”

(Ocean would find them and try to get Glitch to stop backing away. Ocean would distract him and Monica would grab Glitch’s hand.)

Monica: “It’s okay.”

(Glitch would try to escape her grasp, but would fail. Monica would drag him back to the building, where Jessica was outside.)

Jessica, still angry at him: “NO FILTHY MUTTS ALLOWED!” (She would point to Glitch.) “GET LOST!” (She would push Glitch, and he would shock her by accident.) “OW! HEY! BAD!” (She would kick Glitch in his crotch. Glitch would stumble backwards and fall onto the ground, silently crying. Monica and Ocean would go over to him to make sure he was okay and help him up.)

Jessica: “Freak gets what he deserves.”

Nightfall, directly behind Glitch, Monica, and Ocean: “I’ll kill her.”

(Glitch, Monica, and Ocean would get startled.) Ocean: “Hey Nightfall.”

Nightfall: “What? Did I scare you?”

Ocean: “A little bit…”

(Glitch would get up and start walking away.)

Ocean: “Glitch? Where are you going?”

Glitch, wiping away tears while trying to hold back more: “Away.”

Ocean: “Why!?”

Glitch: “Because I’m a freak… A filthy mutt… A monster…”

Monica: “That’s not true!”

Glitch, starting to burst into tears: “YES IT IS!”

(Monica would rush over to him and lead him back into the building, into another room where Jessica never hung out. Monica would wipe his tears and hug him.)

Monica: “Whatever she says isn’t true, okay?”

Glitch, sniffling a bit: “Okay…”

Ocean: “I agree.”

Nightfall: “I’m going back to training…”

(Glitch would curl up into a little ball under the blanket. Monica would lie down next to him.)

Monica: “It’s going to be okay…”

Ocean: “Listen, people in general are jerks. So, don’t listen to her.”

Glitch: “I know what she is saying is true!”

Ocean: “No, it’s not.”

Glitch: “Then why is she saying it if it’s not true?”

Monica: “Because she wants you to be sad.”

Glitch: “Why would she do that?” Ocean: “Because she only feels happy if she puts others down.”

(Monica would hug him from the outside of the blanket.)

***

(Ocean would go to the nearby lake and see what these supposed powers he had were. Not before long, a wave had risen up and was at a standstill. However, once his concentration was broken, the wave was sent to the left and crashed down on a couple of people he didn’t know. He flew off out of embarrassment and anger.)

Ocean: “I’m such a moron! Why am I like this!? I should have just STAYED in that STUPID FACILITY!”

Nightfall: “I disagree.”

Ocean: “WHERE DID YOU COME FROM!?”

Nightfall: “I was right here the whole time. I just saw you fly over here and heard you say that.”

Ocean: “What are you doing here?” (Nightfall would throw a knife at Ocean. It would just barely miss him)

Nightfall: “Practicing doing that.”

Ocean, his face pale with fear: “Okay then…”

***

(A few years later, Glitch would walk over to the small pond where Monica and Jessica were having a chat.)

Glitch: “Listen, Monica… me, Ocean, and Nightfall are planning on leaving… I was wondering if you would come with me.”

Monica: “Yeah, about that… Jessica and I have been talking a bit and you are too much of a MUTT for me to leave my home town for.” Glitch, his heart breaking by the second: “Wh-what!? B-b-b-but-” Monica: “Hush now. Save it for someone else because I don’t want to hear it.” Glitch, becoming infuriated: “I HATE BOTH OF YOU! HATE GIRLS! I HATE THEM! I DO!”

(Glitch would use his powers and lift Jessica up in the air, but soon set her back down once he realized what he was doing. His hair that hasn’t been cut since the day they escaped the facility was very long, so he made it cover his eyes, since it was the source of such power.)Monica: “Jess, you were right… FREAK!”

(They both stormed off back into the building leaving Glitch sad, angry, and heartbroken. Just then, Ocean and Nightfall would walk up to him)Nightfall: “I don’t care what they said, THEY ARE DEAD!” (Nightfall would fly back into the building, grab Monica and Jessica, and hold them over the koi pond before cutting their heads off and drop their bodies into the pond) Nightfall: “Now we can go.”

(The three of them would take off to the sky, and see a mysterious light from below. Ocean was the first down to check it out. It was a portal of some sort, and out came someone that looked like they came out of the Candyland board game. Their fur was mainly blue with some pink mixed in with it and their fur looked as fluffy and soft as cotton candy.)

???: “Wh-wh-where am I?” Ocean: “I… don’t know…” ???: “HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW EITHER!?”

Ocean: “I JUST GOT HERE!”

???, after sighing: “Okay, I fell through a portal thingy and now I’m here. OH NO! WHERE’S MY SISTER!?” (She would soon come tumbling out the portal, too. After that, it would close, meaning there was no turning back. She had mainly pink fur with some blue tied in. They were clearly twins) ???: “Okay, my name is Candy, and this is my sister, Cotton.” Cotton: “Hey. Uhm, do you know where we are?” Nightfall, pointing to a sign: “That says we’re in New York.” Cotton and Candy in sync: “Where?” Ocean: “They fell through a portal, so they have probably never been to Earth before, let alone heard of it.” Candy: “So we fell through a strange portal and found this place?” Ocean: “Pretty much.”

Cotton: “So, who are you guys?” Ocean: “I’m Ocean.” Nightfall: “I’m Nightfall.” Candy, pointing over to Glitch, sitting down crying: “Who’s that.” Ocean: “That’s Glitch. He’s a bit upset right now, so maybe you should leave him alone for a bit.”

Cotton: “Why? What happened?” Ocean: “Heartbreak.” Candy: “I’m going to talk to him.” Ocean: “I JUST SAID LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Candy: “I CAN’T HEAR YOU! I’M TOO FAR AWAY!”

Cotton: “Just let him do his thing.”

Candy: “You okay, Glitch?” (He would sit down next to him) Glitch: “I don’t know anymore.”

Candy: “Look, maybe we could hang out together?”

Glitch: “Yeah… That would be nice…”

Candy: “Girls are rough. I know. I live with one.” Glitch: “That must be rough.” Candy: “A little bit, sure. But we are not just brother and sister, we are also best friends.”

Ocean: “Wow. your big brother truly is something.” Cotton: “BIG BROTHER!? I’M TECHNICALLY OLDER!” Ocean: “Sorry! I didn’t know!”

Nightfall: “I bet ten dollars on Cotton!” Ocean: “Shut up!”

Candy, walking back over with Glitch: “Now what?”

Ocean: “Maybe we could get a house?” Cotton: “Why would we need one?” Ocean: "So we can stay warm and safe and stuff, of course!"

Cotton: "Yeah, but where are you going to get the money?"

Ocean: "I'll pay with these!" (Ocean took his backpack off and swung it around so that he could open it. After unzipping it, he reached inside and pulled out a fistful of small gold coins. They were worth much more than normal currencies due to the type of gold used. However, nobody knew this… yet…)

Cotton: "But what if it's not enough?"

Ocean: "Hmmmm…" (Ocean would look around before finally finding a sign for a pawn shop for treasury. He saw the words "gold" and "money," so he started walking over to it)

Cotton: "Where are you going?"

Ocean: "Follow me and you'll see!"

(Cotton, Nightfall, Glitch, and Candy all followed him. Once inside, Ocean plopped the coins on the counter and the confused shop owner examined it, and noticed how rare the coins were.)

The shop owner: "Listen- just take this-" (The shop owner shoved a big pile of money over to Ocean. It was about one and a half million dollars in five hundred dollar bills, which was only half the worth of the three pounds of gold) "Is that enough?"

Ocean: "Yeah, that should be good!" (Ocean would take his backpack back off, open it up, and shove the money into the backpack)

The shop owner: "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

(Ocean, Nightfall, Glitch, Cotton, and Candy all walked out of there. Ocean purchased a big house and had five hundred thousand dollars left over. It was a mansion. Once word got on the street about how he purchased that house, he was nicknamed 'the richest 7-year-old.' However, the point of the big house was to give refuge to all of them. That night, Ocean decided to stay awake all night again. He just- couldn't sleep. However, everyone else got a great sleep. Early in the morning, Ocean could hear Cotton and Candy fighting downstairs. So, Ocean went down to investigate. Turns out Cotton and Candy were beating each other up for fun)

Ocean: "WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING!?"

Cotton: "Having fun."

Ocean: "THE BOTH OF YOU ARE BRUISED! BADLY!"

Candy: "So?"

Ocean: "WHAT DO YOU MEAN SO!?"

Cotton: "Just give us some sugar and we'll be fine."

Ocean, after releasing an annoyed sigh: "Fine. Whatever."

(Cotton and Candy would grab some sugar and rub it on their wounds, healing the wounds almost immediately)

Ocean: "That's just like me with water!"

Cotton and Candy in sync: "Huh?"

Ocean: "When I sit in water, it heals all my wounds. Cuts, burns, bruises, etcetera."

Candy: "If we sit in water for too long we dissolve."

Ocean, in a very unenthusiastic tone: "O-o-o-ooooooh-"

Cotton: "Yeah, it makes life hard! But it's fine."

Ocean: "You sure?"

Cotton: "Yeah!"

Ocean: "Okay then-"

(A few hours later, Glitch and Nightfall woke up. Once the two of them were ready to start their day, they all headed over to the nearby Café to have some breakfast. During breakfast, Candy made a grave mistake…)

Candy: "Ocean, why do you look like a blueberry?"

Glitch, his face pale with fear: "Dude, you should not have said that-"

(Ocean's eye would twitch as he stared at Candy with an angered expression. Candy's ears drooped and his face also became pale with fear. A tear formed in his eye from the amount of fear Ocean's glare was giving him)

Ocean: "Listen…" (He would push himself from the table aggressively and walk over to Candy, slamming his hand on the table and bending over so his eyes were aligned with Candy's) "Give me one good reason not to tie you down and show you horrors unknown to anyone."

Candy,stammering, scared: "I- I- I'm sorry!"

Ocean: "Yeah… you better be…" (He would walk back over to his seat. He still gave Candy a glare he didn't like. It filled him with fear and dread)

Cotton, lifting her head up from the table: "What happened? I was asleep."

Ocean: "You just missed your brother using slurs."

Cotton: "Candy!"

Candy: "I just asked why he looked like a blueberry and he threatened me!"

Cotton, after snickering: "Don't do that!" (She would whisper over to Candy) "Although he does look like a blueberry."

Glitch: "At least he didn't hold a knife up to your throat-"

Candy: "Maybe because we're in a public place and not in a facility."

Glitch: "True…"

Cotton: "What? What facility?"

Candy: "Don't worry about it-"

Cotton: "Okay."

(After they make it back home, Ocean would pin Candy to the wall and hold a knife up to his throat)

Candy: "HEY! I THOUGHT YOU WERE CHILL!"

Ocean: "YOU CALLED ME A BLUEBERRY! I'M NOT GONNA JUST 'CHILL!'"

Glitch: "OCEAN! STOP!"

Ocean: "OR WHAT?"

Glitch: "I'll use my powers…"

Ocean: "Fine." (He would walk away, still visibly triggered, and aggressively flop onto the couch. Glitch would stand there for a second, taking in what just happened before hugging Candy, trying to help him feel better and settling down into his spot on the couch.)

Cotton: “Hey, Candy… what was that facility you were talking about earlier?”

Candy: “Glitch and Ocean were trapped in this facility that didn’t treat them nicely, so they escaped and came here.”

Cotton: “Huh. And Glitch told you this?”

Candy: “Mhm!”

Cotton: “Interesting… Glitch must really trust you… or he’s really dumb.”

Candy: “HE’S NOT DUMB!”

Cotton: “Alright, alright- he’s not…”

Nightfall: “What are you two talking about?”

Candy: “Nothing YOU need to worry about.”

Nightfall: “Alright.”

***

(Nothing really happened for about a year, until Ocean discovered an organization that was hiring. He didn’t know what it was for, but signed up anyway. He then went to the meeting to get hired, and was faced with a very interesting conversation…)

???: “Mr. Icebreaker! You’re next!”

Ocean: “Hi there, sir.”

???: “Aren’t you a little… young for this?”

Ocean: “Well, what is it?”

???: “We’re hiring assassins. You go out and kill people in secret.”

Ocean: “I can handle that.”

???: “But you aren’t even ten! You will be prone to mistakes and will most likely fuck up the mission! We can’t hire you.”

Ocean: “You’re not even gonna give me a chance to display my skills!? You call yourself an employer!? Pathetic. I bet you would decline someone because you don’t like the clothing they wore. Fine then, if you don’t want to give me a chance, then I’ll find my way out.”

???, after an annoyed sigh: “Fine! We’ll give you ONE chance!”

Ocean: “Yes!”

(Ocean would end up showing excellent skill for his age, good enough to get him hired. Everyone stood there in shock as he moved with godspeed and killed the fake targets, and even beat someone at hand-to-hand combat. He seemed to have learned from someone who knew what they were doing. They only had one option: to hire him. Nobody would see him coming. He would then return home and teach everyone else just about everything he learned. He kept a few tricks and skills to himself. The person that got closest to being as good as him was Cotton, so, he brought her to get her hired, and sure enough, she did. It's not that in the few months he spent training Candy and Glitch he saw no improvement, he just felt they weren't ready yet. More training was required, if they didn't give up, that is. Unfortunately, a month later, they did…)

Glitch, out if breathe: "I GIVE UP! I CAN'T DO IT! I'M DONE WITH TRAINING!"

Ocean, shocked: "You can't give up now! You're getting so close!"

Glitch: "I DON'T CARE!"

Candy, after sitting down next to Glitch to comfort him: "Ocean, I think we need to stop the training… for good… hey, Glitch, look at me. It's gonna be okay. Ocean'll stop the training and you won't have to do it anymore, okay? You did your best, and that's as good as you can do."

(Ocean would lift his arms up before letting gravity make them hit his sides. He then turned around and walked back inside. Glitch would hug Candy and start to feel a bit better. Soon after, the two of them went back inside.)

Cotton: "How did the training go?"

Candy: "Not good. Glitch got a bit angry and sad, so we're stopping the training for good."

Cotton: "Why are you stopping!? You were doing so good!"

Candy: "Glitch just- he just needs to stop! He's not doing too good!"

Nightfall: "What are we yelling about?"

Cotton and Candy in sync: "Don't worry about it!"

Nightfall: "Alright! Jeez!"

Cotton: "If you don't train you aren't gonna get any better."

Glitch: "I don't care about getting better! I just wanna stop!"

Ocean: "Cotton, just- stop. Don't bother trying to get through to them."

Cotton: "Hmph. Fine. It's not like Glitch could do anything good, anyways."

(Glitch would seem to be on the verge of tears. It seemed like no matter what he said or did, he would always mess up. He didn't understand how it didn't matter what he did- how he would always make everyone mad at him. Candy would take Glitch up to his room and sit with him, calming him down.)

Nightfall: "Alright, who wants to be next for my target practice?"

Cotton: "WHAT!?"

Ocean: "... Yeah, choose her."

Cotton: "WAIT! YOU CAN'T CHOOSE ME! I DON'T WANNA BE A SITTING DUCK!"

Nightfall: "Hold still… or else…"

(Ocean would hold up a wooden board behind Cotton, and Nightfall would throw knives at Cotton, just barely missing her and hitting the board. When it was done, Cotton's face was paler than a ghost.)

Cotton, stammering: "Okay then- that was… fun-"

(Ocean and Nightfall would burst out laughing, making Cotton stomp her foot and stomp up the stairs to her room, only making Nightfall laugh harder.)

Nightfall: "What a drama queen!"

Ocean: "I think you really triggered her."

Nightfall: "Who cares!? That was funny!"

Ocean: "There's no telling what she'll do when she's mad. She has the skill to slaughter you… probably."

Nightfall: "Yeah, probably not!"

Ocean: "... I said probably."

Nightfall: "Alright, I'll stop."

(Later that day, Ocean had gone out to the store to get some groceries himself, and while he was gone, Cotton had come out of her room and went downstairs to Candy and started a fight with him. By the time Ocean got back, a few cups were smashed and the glass from them was all over the floor. He sent them up to their rooms with sugar to put onto their wounds. He then went to clean up the glass. Ocean would accidentally forget a couple shards of glass and just a few seconds later, Glitch stepped on them. He fell to the floor in pain and shock, crying. Candy, who had just got done fully healing himself, had rushed downstairs and examined his foot. Luckily, the glass wasn't stuck in his foot. Ocean had to wrap it in a bandage after stopping the bleeding. Glitch had a lot of trouble walking for the rest of the night. It was so painful, he even slept on the couch.)

***

(That morning, a young wolf, by the name of Beau, was up early in the morning to travel from Italy to New York, which is quite the journey by boat. He was born on the outskirts of Britain and was raised on a farm. He loved exploring and dreamed of seeing the world. He started his trek about two years ago, at the age of nine. He has very beautiful brown fur, which gave him the nickname "Coffee" from his family. He is a Partial Water Wolf, meaning that one of his parents was a Water Wolf and the other wasn't. He has amazing purple eyes that are like two supernovas, engulfing the extravagant colors of space. A very rare thing that only happens to partial Water Wolves. He had a very kind and caring heart, ready to help anyone and everyone he meets. As he boarded the ship, he was prepared to see what comes, considering New York is the polar opposite of the United Kingdom.)

***

(In the evening after one of Ocean's missions, he heard someone come up behind him. Before he could react, he was knocked out and taken to a warehouse. Two tall mysterious figures stood in front of him. They both claimed to be new recruits that were shoved off to the side when Ocean and Cotton came along. They decided to put a ransom on him, and someone would have to pick up the phone…)

Cotton, after picking up the phone: "Hello?"

(A mysterious voice came over the phone telling her everything. From how they were shoved to the side to the ransom. Cotton would hold the phone in shock and fear. She never really cared so much for a single person. Maybe she was starting to like him… she shoved it aside for now)

Cotton: "Okay, I think I can get the money. I'll be there soon."

The mysterious voice: "You better be… or he gets it!"

(The other side of the phone would have hung up. Cotton put the phone back and told everyone else about it. The only three that seemed to freak out were Cotton, Candy, and Glitch.)

Candy: "WHAT!?"

Glitch: "How did that happen!?"

Cotton: "I dunno!"

Candy: "We gotta get him back!"

Glitch: "How!? Do we have enough money without Ocean?"

Cotton: "Who said we were gonna give them money?"

Nightfall: "Are we gonna kill them?"

Cotton: "Of course, silly!"

Nightfall, whilst nodding with a grin: "Nice."

Glitch: "But you and Nightfall are the only ones that are really good."

Candy: "But didn't you say you had those powers? You could use them!"

Glitch, unconfident and stuttering: "I-I-I- I don't know-"

Cotton: "Oh, come on! I'm sure your powers are cool and helpful!" (While talking under her breath) "Or stupid and worthless."

Glitch: "I don't like my powers."

Candy: "Why not? When you told me what they do, it sounded really cool!"

Glitch: "I don't think they're cool."

Candy: "Awh, come on! Please?"

Glitch, after a sigh of frustration: "Fine."

Cotton: "Alright, so if we all work together, we can probably take them down."

Candy: "Hopefully."

Nightfall: "I think we got this."

(They would make it over to the warehouse, and Nightfall would look inside and see Ocean tied to a chair. In the next window, he could see the two mysterious figures. He signaled for everyone else to come over.)

Cotton, peeking into the first window: "Thank god he's safe."

Nightfall: "We need to make these two not be able to move… Glitch!"

Glitch: "Yeah?"

Nightfall: "Do your thing."

(Glitch would pull his hair out of his face and lift the two into the air. Nightfall would break through the thin window pane and proceed to slice their heads off. Once everyone was inside, they had to open a dial lock to open the door. It was like they had trapped him in a safe. Cotton shoved everyone out of the way and opened the door, and cut the ropes tying Ocean to the chair. She would hug him and they would return back home.)

Candy: "I've never seen you care so much about anyone, now that I'm thinking about it."

Cotton: "Shut up!"

Candy: "Why should I?"

Cotton, getting irritated: "I'll make you shut up!"

Candy: "I know you will. But, why did you care so much about Ocean?"

Cotton: "I didn't care that much about him-"

Candy: "You were the first one into the room to untie him."

Cotton: "So what?"

Candy: "I think you like him!"

Cotton, blushing and flustered: "I DO NOT!"

Candy: "Okayyy… I'll believe you… for now…"

Cotton: "SHUDDUP!" (She would stomp upstairs with her full rage in each stomp and go into her room and slam the door using all the fire fueling her rage. The sound would echo throughout the house alerting even those with the worst hearing.)

Ocean: "What was that!?"

Candy: "Cotton. She always does that when she's angry."

Ocean: "She's gonna break the door off at some point."

Candy: "Probably."

Ocean: "Should I check and see if she's alright?"

Candy: "Go ahead."

Candy, mumbling under his breath: "I'm sure she'll enjoy talking to you, either way."

(Ocean would walk upstairs and knock on her door)

Cotton, in a very rude and aggressive tone: "WHAT!?"

Ocean, in a calm, collected voice: "Just came to check on you. I heard the door slam and figured it would be nice of me if I made sure you were okay. I'm your friend, after all."

Cotton, without putting any thought into her words: "It is. Come in."

Ocean: "That was a quick response." (He would slowly open the door and see her under the blanket on her bed. He would go sit next to her. Cotton would almost immediately hug him, starting to feel less aggravated. Ocean would hug her back, happy he could help.)

Ocean: "Heh. It's kind of funny how Candy can't calm you down as much as I can."

Cotton: "Well, he's not as good at calming people down as you are."

Ocean: "But he calmed Glitch down with ease."

Cotton: "That was just that one time."

Ocean: "True."

(Cotton would begin to cuddle with him because he made her feel safe. She didn't know how or why, but there was just something about him, but she didn't know how to tell him. As the fiery sensation burns in her heart, she would stay there with him and soon fall asleep, leaving Ocean to wonder what just happened and why. He would go back downstairs and go for a bit of a walk, clearing his mind and filling his lungs with the crisp, clean autumn winds with the crunching of leaves under his feet.)

***

(As the alarm for a new day filled Ocean’s ears, he felt a bit frozen. Like he couldn’t move his fingers. He would look down, and they would be turning stone-gray, frozen in time. He quickly hopped out of bed and into the shower. The water running down his arm soon made the grayness fade, bringing back the beautiful blue color of his fur. Since the bathroom was right next to Cotton’s room, she decided to get up, since Ocean was awake. She didn’t know why she wanted to be up at the brink of dawn with him, but she did. She went over and knocked on the bathroom door.) Cotton: “Don’t take too long in there!”

Ocean: “I won’t!”

Cotton: “You betta not!” (She would go downstairs and flop onto the couch. Ocean would come down a few minutes after)

Cotton: “About time you came out of there!”

Ocean: “Yeah, now you can go take your shower.”

Cotton: “I had one yesterday.”

Ocean: “Then why did you rush me to get out?”

Cotton: “Dunno!” (She would say this as her eyes locked with his, her smile growing bigger. Her stomach was turning in the best way possible. But why did she feel this way? It was something about him. About the way he walked. About the way he spoke. About the way his deep blue eyes pierced into hers like sharp icicles. His voice- a relaxing melody only to her ears. A feeling that everything was safer than ever.)

Ocean: “Okay…”

(Ocean would sit on the couch and Cotton would slowly scooch over to him until she was right next to him. She would rest her head on his shoulder)

Cotton: “So soft…”

Ocean: “Thanks, I guess?”

Cotton: “What do you do when you wake up this early?” Ocean: “Draw, why?”

Cotton: “Oooo! Can I see?”

Ocean: “Sure!” (Ocean would reach into his backpack, which was conveniently lying there on the floor, and open it up. Inside would be very disturbing drawings. Some showing him and/or his friends getting murdered in various brutal ways, or even realistic bloodshot eyes hiding in the darkness, staring at whoever looked at the drawing. There was one drawing that stood out for Cotton. It showed her with her head on Ocean’s lap, asleep. The colors were so vibrant, other than the red and blue used for blood in other drawings, of course. She would do anything to make that drawing a reality)

Ocean: “So, yeah.”

Cotton: “I’m hungry.”

Ocean: “Okay, I’ll make us some breakfast.” (He would get up and start to head out to the kitchen)

Cotton, a bit disappointed: “Okay…” (She didn’t want him to leave her side. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to be next to him the whole time. After Ocean had made their food, he set up a foldable table in front of them so they could eat on the couch. She ate fairly quickly so that she could go back to snuggling Ocean. She would soon fall fast asleep, leaving Ocean trapped on the couch, still wide awake. His dawn-wired brain stopped him from going back to sleep, since sleep wasn't of importance to him. He knew it would be a while before anyone else would wake up, so all he could really do is sit there until she would eventually awake again. Soon enough she would begin to wake up when everyone else was waking up. As Candy was walking down the stairs with Glitch, Cotton would quickly and swiftly move over to the other side of the couch)

Ocean: "Ugh, finally-" (He would get up and stretch, before cooking breakfast for everyone else that was just starting to wake up)

Candy: "I'm surprised Cotton isn't clinging on to you."

Ocean: "Oh, she was."

Cotton: "SHUDDUP! NO I WASN'T!"

Candy: "Mhm…" (He would walk over and sit next to Cotton, whispering to her) "You like him, don't you?"

Cotton, whispering back: "Uhm- no, of course not!"

Candy, still whispering: "Are you sure? Then why are you watching him and wagging your tail, smiling?"

Cotton: "Mmmmm- because."

Candy: "Because why?"

Cotton: "Because I can."

Candy: "You like him."

Cotton: "And you like Glitch."

Candy: "NO I DON'T!"

Cotton: "YEAH YOU DO!"

Candy: "NO, I DON'T!"

Cotton: "YOU WANNA HAVE A KNIFE FIGHT OVER THIS!?"

Candy: "YEAH, LET'S GO!"

Ocean: "HEY!" (Walks over to them and separates them) "You two knock it off!"

Candy: "FINE!" (He would cross his arms and slouch)

(Cotton would look at him and smile like an idiot, wagging her tail)

Ocean: "Okay, good." (He would walk back over to the stove and continue to cook)

(Cotton would continue to watch him, her smile bigger than ever, her tail wagging faster than the speed of sound, and her heart beating like a race car. She doesn't know why she feels this way around him, but she does. She thinks this feeling might fade after a month or so…)

***

(Taking a small walk, Ocean had met up with someone named Scarlet. They spent a bit of time talking, before Ocean took her back to his house so that she could meet everyone)

Ocean: "Hey, I'm back! I've got someone I want you guys to meet!"

Cotton, giving her a dumbfounded, blank stare: "Who the fuck is this bitch?"

Scarlet: "HEY! I'm not a bitch! Hmph."

Cotton: "You sure talk like one."

Ocean: "Okay, knock it off."

Scarlet: "You dress like bitch."

Cotton: "YOU ACT LIKE A BITCH!"

Ocean: "I SAID KNOCK IT THE HELL OFF! My God! I bring in a new friend and you start arguing right away!"

Cotton: "YEAH ONE THAT'S ALREADY BULLYING YOUR GIRLFRIEND."

(Ocean would give her a confused look)

Scarlet: "O h- she's your girlfriend- sorry about that-"

Ocean, going along with it: "Yeah. That's why I was trying to tell you to stop."

(Cotton would cross her arms and go sit on the couch grumbling, obviously having a heavy dislike for Scarlet already.)

(Candy and Glitch would say "hi" to her and talk to her a bit, not seeing why Cotton disliked her. Nightfall would completely ignore her.)

Ocean: "Do you want anything to eat?"

Scarlet, walking over to the couch to sit down: "Nope! I'm good!"

(Cotton would "stretch" and kick Scarlet in the face)

Scarlet: "OW! HEY!"

Cotton, sarcastically: "Oops- I'm so sorry! I didn’t realize you were there."

Ocean: "I'm so sorry- she's never like this-"

Candy: "She's like that to me-"

(Cotton would slip her legs behind Scarlet's head and push her off the couch)

Scarlet, tears filling her eyes with pain: "WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?"

Cotton, sarcastically: "Sorry- didn't see you there either"

Ocean, angrily whispering towards Cotton: "You better knock it off"

Scarlet: "YOU DID SEE ME! YOU PUSHED ME OFF THE COUCH!"

Cotton: "Sorry, I really didn't. Are you okay in the head?"

Scarlet, crying a bit: "Yes, just fine."

Cotton: "But you're crying!"

Scarlet: "NO! I'M NOT!"

Cotton: "Then why is your face wet? Did some guy piss on your face on the streets?"

Scarlet: "EW! NO!"

Cotton: "Ocean! She smells bad! She probably let that guy piss on her for money! She's such a street rat!"

Ocean: "COTTON! KNOCK. IT. OFF." (He would lift her up off the couch by her collar, forcing her to look into his angry, fierce eyes) "Do you hear me?"

Cotton, blushing a bit: "Baby- I'm just having fun!"

Ocean: "What you are doing is being rude and disrespectful to our guest."

Cotton: "But I'm just speaking the truth!"

Ocean: "Knock it off." (He would help Scarlet up and set her down on the other couch, away from Cotton. Later that night, Scarlet went to sneak into Ocean's room to cuddle with him. Not thinking much of it, she almost fell asleep until Cotton walked in. She cuddled and slept with him almost every single night, but when she saw Scarlet in his bed? She grabbed Scarlet by the neck and dragged her out of the room down to the living room.)

Cotton: “WHY THE FUCK WHERE YOU IN HIS ROOM. IN HIS BED?!” (Cotton was pinning Scarlet down by her neck trying her best not to snap it.)

Scarlet: “S-STOP IT- OCEAN HELP!”

Cotton: “He won’t listen to you. After all, you were the one who snuck into his room just because you wanted cuddles.”

Scarlet: “I’ve been on the streets for so, so long. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?”

Cotton: “Nothing more from a fucking mutt like you.” (Cotton would get up and put her foot over Scarlets neck, as hard as possible. At that moment, Ocean would slowly start to wake up and walk downstairs)

Ocean: "What is going on?"

Scarlet, crying: "PLEASE! HELP!"

Ocean, fully awake: "COTTON! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? LET HER GO!"

Cotton: "SHE WAS TRYING TO SLEEP WITH YOU! THERE'S NO KNOWING WHAT THIS STREET RAT COULD DO TO YOU!"

Ocean: "WHAT WOULD SHE POSSIBLY DO!?"

Cotton: "YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW!"

Ocean: "JUST LET HER GO!"

Cotton: "NO! WHY WOULD I LET SUCH A FILTHY MUTT GO!?"

Ocean: "SHE'S NOT A MUTT!"

Cotton: "YES, SHE IS!"

Ocean: "DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO BE HATED!? TO BE OVERLOOKED!? TO BE SHOVED OFF TO THE SIDE NO MATTER WHAT!? NO, YOU DON'T! YOU HAVEN'T GIVEN THE TIME TO GET TO KNOW WHAT SHE'S BEEN THROUGH! DON'T BE SO QUICK TO JUDGE!"

Cotton: "You don't know the things I do. I know EXACTLY what she was trying to do."

Ocean: "Then what was she trying to do? Kill me!?"

Cotton: “She was trying to sleep with you Ocean, I saw it with my own eyes. She was getting so unbelievably touchy and started to hump your leg if it wasn’t for me!”

Ocean: "Why would she do that? That's just- weird-"

Cotton: "Exactly! The mind of a street rat!"

(Scarlet would be whimpering in fear and pain, tears still rolling down her cheeks)

Ocean: "Just put her in her own room. I'm going to start locking my door from now on."

Cotton: "WHY CAN'T WE JUST THROW HER OUT THE HOUSE!?"

Ocean: "BECAUSE I'D FEEL BAD ABOUT IT!"

Cotton: "I WOULDN'T!"

(Glitch would wake up and open the door)

Glitch: "What’s with all the yelling?" (He would yawn) "I want to sleep."

Cotton, in a very aggravated tone: “Just ignore us and go back to bed. This isn’t about you.”

Glitch: “Okay… just please keep it down.” Cotton: “I’ll keep it down when I want to”

(Glitch would shut the door and lie back down into bed)

Ocean: “Just put her in her own room. I’m sure you’re just overreacting.”

Cotton, getting more pissed: “OVERREACTING!? DO YOU WANT ME TO SHOW YOU OVERREACTING!?”

Scarlet, her words intelligible because of how much she was crying: “Please don’t hurt me any more. Please, I’m sorry-” Cotton: “It’s too late for ‘sorry’ now.”

Ocean, yelling at the top of his lungs, rage filling his voice: “KNOCK IT OFF! BOTH OF YOU! WHY CAN’T YOU TWO JUST- GET ALONG? IT FEELS LIKE NO MATTER WHAT I DO OR SAY, MY VOICE ISN’T IMPORTANT ENOUGH!” (Tears would start to fill his eyes as he gently pushed Cotton off of Scarlet and helped her up. Scarlet would hug him, feeling unsafe and scared, not knowing what she did wrong or why she was hated so much.)

Ocean: “We have a spare room you can use.” (He would guide her across the hall and open up one of the bedroom doors, gesturing for her to head inside)

Scarlet: “Th-thank you…” (She would head inside and sit on the bed, clearly still feeling unsafe) Ocean: “You okay?”

(Scarlet would shake her head before laying down in the bed, hugging her tail, crying. Ocean would walk in and close the door before sitting on the bed. She would immediately shoot up, hugging his arm, crying)

Scarlet: “Please tell me you’ll keep her away from me… please…”

Ocean: “I’ll keep you safe from her. Don’t worry.”

Cotton: “He’s such an idiot.” (She would go back to her room and slam her door, causing Glitch to become startled and snuggle up closer to Candy)

Ocean: “I don’t know what got into her all of the sudden. She’s never been like this before.”

Scarlet: “I’ll just try and ignore her… you should, too”

Ocean: “If I ignore her that’s going to make things worse. Not the best idea.”

Scarlet, muttering under her breath: “What an idiot.”

Ocean: “Hm? What’s up?” Scarlet: “N-nothing.”

Ocean: “Okay… Just try and get some sleep, alright?”

Scarlet: “Okay…”

Ocean: “Goodnight.” (He would get up and leave the room before going downstairs. He didn’t feel like sleeping, even though he only got about ten minutes of sleep, if that.)

Scarlet: “Heh… that idiot…” (She would lie down in bed, smirking, soon falling asleep thinking of her plan which was already unfolding…)

***

(That morning, Ocean went out to the store to get a few things, bumping into this fairly tall, British Partial Water Wolf by the name of “Beau.” Beau looked at the smaller, younger Water Wolf and noticed his fur was a beautiful blue, clearly very soft as well. Granted there were great dark circles around Ocean’s eyes from the lack of sleep, he still seemed like a very kind soul. They ended up talking and Beau managed to get Ocean into one major thing: cars. Granted they were both too young to drive, they still could admire the shapes and sounds, and even the technologies behind them. They ended up becoming best friends within minutes. Ocean decided to let him meet his other friends, back at home. However, Cotton was already on her way down the street when she bumped into Beau by accident…)

Cotton: “OoF-”

Beau: “Oops- you okay?” Cotton: “U h m-”

Ocean: “This is my new friend, Beau. And Beau, that’s Cotton.” Cotton: “Oh…” (She would be at a complete loss of words as she stared at him before quite so literally making the Windows XP Shutdown sound before lying there, not moving, apart from her stomach rising and lowering as she breathed and her eyelids moving as she blinked. Ocean would look down at her before looking back up at Beau.) Ocean: “You broke her.” Beau: “How?” (He would lift Cotton up to her feet, and Cotton would just stand there) Ocean: “I don’t know how, she’s just broken.”

Beau: “But how do we fix her?” Ocean: “I don’t know! She’s never been broken before!”

Beau: “How are we gonna get her back to the house?” Ocean: “By fixing her.” Beau: “But we don’t know how to fix her.”

Ocean: “Then figure it out.” Beau: “How?” Ocean: “You broke her, so you should know how to fix her.” Beau: “I just met her-” Ocean: “Then do you have any other suggestions?”

Beau: “I think so…” (He would lift Cotton up and fling her over his shoulder, carrying her that way. Cotton would be an embarrassed mess the entire time, her face as red as a lobster. However, she went completely limp, letting him carry her. When they got back home, Beau would lay Cotton down on the couch. Ocean would lay next to her, and she would suddenly sit back up after catching his scent)

Ocean: "Oh, thank god you're fixed-"

Cotton: "What do you mean?"

Beau: "See? You knew how to fix her."

Ocean: "I didn't-"

Cotton, stuttering: "Uhm.. h-hi…"

Beau: "Hi."

(Cotton would drag Beau down onto the couch and snuggle both him and Ocean)

Beau: "Does she always do this?"

Ocean: "Yeah, to me-"

(Cotton would make fairly quiet sounds, expressing that she was happy as she nuzzled into Ocean's chest, before purring)

Ocean: "That's a new one-"

Beau: "That's cute."

(Cotton would immediately get flustered, shoving her face deeper into Ocean's chest, making sounds to express her embarrassment as her face glowed a bright red. She would continue to lay there, however, eventually falling asleep, still clinging to Ocean and wagging her tail as she slept. Beau and Ocean would continue to talk about cars, Ocean learning more and more about them the more they talked. Scarlet would soon come over and cling to the other side of Ocean, clearly mad about the fact Cotton was clinging to him.)

Scarlet: "Why are you letting her sleep like that?"

Ocean: "Because she's my friend and I don't want to wake her up."

Scarlet: "Well, I don't like it."

Ocean: "I'll tell her to move when she wakes up."

Scarlet: "Then wake her up right now."

Ocean: "I'm not going to wake her up. I don't understand why you don't want her near me."

Scarlet, being pouty: "Because she's mean and rude!"

Ocean, getting irritated: "She's mean to you because you act like this around her."

Scarlet, mad at Ocean: "Hmph. Fine. Whatever."

(Beau would stare at them, thinking that the relationship they have could very quickly spiral downhill very soon. Ocean would wrap his arm around Scarlet, giving her cuddles and tries to scoot over more towards her. However, as soon as he started to move, Cotton would tighten her grip, snuggling her face into him.)

Scarlet: "Wake her up and tell her to stop."

Ocean: "She's comfortable. I'm not going to wake her up because you're jealous.:

Scarlet: "I'm not jealous!"

Ocean: "You're acting like it."

(Scarlet would open her mouth and widen her eyes out of shock and surprise)

Scarlet: "How am I acting like it? She's snuggling you and I should be the only one snuggling you!"

Ocean: "Just let her be. She's not hurting anyone!"

Scarlet, still mad at him: "Hmph. Fine. Whatever."

(Glitch and Candy would walk downstairs before cuddling on the other couch)

Candy: "If you had to marry anyone, who would you marry?"

Glitch: "Ummmm… you!"

Candy: "Why me?"

Glitch: "Because you're my bestest friend!"

Candy: "Well- you're my bestest friend!"

Glitch: "Yay!"

(Glitch would snuggle up to Candy, smiling as Candy cuddled him. Scarlet would look over at them before looking back up to Ocean)

Scarlet: "Look at them-" (She would point over to Glitch and Candy) "It's just the two of them cuddling. Why can't we do that?"

Ocean: "We can when Cotton wakes up. Let her sleep."

Scarlet: "Why can't she wake up now?"

(Cotton would hug Ocean tighter, whimpering in her sleep, having a nightmare. She would soon wake up, snuggling as close to Ocean as possible, crying. Ocean would turn over to her to comfort her. Scarlet would look at the both of them, jealous)

Ocean: "Hey, what happened?"

Cotton, her words hard to understand through her sobbing: I- I- I- I was getting killed by Scarlet a-a-and you were telling her to do it…"

Ocean: "it was just a dream. Why would I ever do that?"

Cotton: "Because I was trying to talk to you when you were cuddling Scarlet and she got mad at me… and then you got mad at me… and it all felt so real!"

Ocean, hugging her and gently petting her: "It's alright. I would never kill you. You're my friend. Hell, you might even be my best friend!"

Cotton, sniffling, feeling safe: "R-really..?"

Ocean: "Mhm!"

(Cotton would snuggle her face into the crevice of Ocean's neck, smiling. Ocean would lift his head up a bit, allowing for her head to rest under his. Cotton would start to purr, sounding exactly like a cat would. Scarlet would stare at Cotton, giving her a glare of pure hate. Scarlet knew that if Cotton kept pulling Ocean away from her, she wouldn't be able to use him as much as she wanted to. Cotton, however, was a bit jealous of Scarlet not only for how much attention she was getting from Ocean, but also her breast size. Cotton knew Scarlet's plan and how she was deceiving and lying to Ocean, planning on breaking his heart in the end. Cotton wanted to spare him from the pain that Scarlet wanted to place onto him. Scarlet would soon wrap her arms around Ocean, clinging to him just like Cotton was when she was asleep. She gave Cotton an evil look, knowing her plan was working. Cotton gripped Ocean tighter, scared for him. Ocean would wrap his arm around Scarlet, gently petting the both of them.)

***

(Later that night, Ocean was feeling restless. The stars were shining as the crescent moon stood high in the sky. Ocean shuffled off from the couch and out the back door, slowly walking down the steps from the deck and out into the grass, slowly lowering himself down into a lying position, staring up at the stars, trying to get rid of his stress. "Life is crazy…" he would think to himself, zoning out as he watched the stars, the rabbit hole of thought getting deeper and deeper the longer he lied there. It had to have been midnight at this point, and Beau was still awake and saw Ocean lying out there alone. He would walk down the same path Ocean did before sitting down next to him, releasing a sigh as he sat down next to him. Ocean would quickly sit up and look at Beau, startled, before living back down, letting out a sigh.)

Beau, looking over at Ocean: "Sorry-"

Ocean: "No, don't worry about it."

Beau: "Crazy day?"

Ocean: "Yeah, it's just-" (He would let out a sigh) "It's hard sometimes. Trying to get Cotton and Scarlet to get along."

Beau, looking back up to the sky: "Yeah. I really don't like Scarlet. She's uh… using you."

Ocean, sitting up and looking at Beau: "What do you mean?"

Beau, sitting up and looking at Ocean: "Yeah. She's being a bloody asshole to you and Cotton for what reason? You give her everything she could ask for and Cotton really isn't that bad of a person. Granted I just met Cotton today, she still seems nice."

Ocean: "Cotton really is a nice person… and, I don't think she's necessarily being mean to me. It's all directed towards Cotton."

Beau: "Right, but she's still being a total jerkbag."

Ocean: "That's true. But just give her some time. She's truly a really nice person."

Beau: "Scarlet's not going to change."

Ocean: "She's not always like that! It's only when Cotton gets what she sees as a little too close to me."

Beau: "Sure, she wasn't a jerk all day, but still."

Ocean: "She's a really nice person. I swear."

Beau: "Listen, Ocean. This is coming from a friend. I have been in a relationship once before, a toxic one. I know all the signs, and she's laying down all the signs. I know you can't read them, I couldn't when I was in line but… that's because you're blinded by her lies. She makes you think she loves you and that you're the most important thing in the world, when in reality? She just wants you for what you have. Ocean, I really don't want you to go down the road I did. It sucks. When you're done walking down it, you end up worse off than you already were. I hope you understand that."

Ocean, a bit shocked: "B-but… she's different! She wouldn't lie to me! I know that for a fact!"

Beau: "Okay… as long as you're taking the possibility of her being a liar into consideration."

Ocean: "Yeah…"

(Ocean and Beau would lie back down, staring up at the sky. A few minutes later, Beau would get up and head inside to go to bed. Soon after, Ocean would lift himself up off the cold, hard ground and head back inside and lie back down in his bed, hoping to get some sleep but instead, lying awake in the darkness. Cotton would soon sneak into his room and get into his bed to cuddle him, not realizing he was awake.)

Ocean: "Cotton..?"

Cotton, stuttering and flustered: "Oh- um- h-hi… y-you don't m-mind if I lay here, r-right..?"

Ocean: "Nope, not at all "

Cotton: "Okay, good…" (She would slowly make her way into his arms, curling up, wagging her tail and purring. She would smile, feeling safe and comfortable with him, soon falling asleep. Ocean would stay there awake the rest of the night, bored. Restlessness had gotten a hold of him. Sleep seemed basically impossible. He let his mind wander as he lay there in the darkness, almost no difference between having your eyes open or closed. The only difference was the small bit of moonlight seeping into the window, leaving a few streaks of light into the dark room. His mind soon wandered, eventually ending up on what he should do once the sunlight peeks in through the window, and the dew of dawn covers the grass and trees.)

***

(In the morning, Beau and Ocean were going down to the café to have some breakfast. There at the café, they met Jynx. She was a young wolf, closer to Ocean’s age than Beau's. She also had beautifully colored fur, almost as though she was formed from the sun-setting sky.)

Jynx, speaking rapidly: "Hi! How's it going? Whatcha doing? Can I join? Whatever it is, it looks fun!"

Ocean: "We're just having breakfast is all."

Jynx: "Oh, cool! Can I have some, too?"

Ocean: "Sure! I don't mind helping someone out! Just te-"

(Jynx would shove Ocean into the booth more and sit next to him, stacking the sugar packets)

Jynx: "What am I getting? Is it good?"

Ocean: "Like I was saying, that's up to you." (He would place a menu in front of her. She picked it up and look at it)

Jynx: "What are these funky scribbles?"

Ocean: "Words. Do you not know how to read?"

Jynx: "Read? What's that? How do I do it?"

Ocean: "Uh- … Just look at the pictures and tell me which one looks to you."

(Jynx's eyes would scan across the menu, before she placed her finger on a picture of French toast and eggs)

Jynx: "This!"

Ocean: "Okay, French toast, got it."

(The waitress would walk up to them in a good mood before locking eyes with Jynx. He was visibly annoyed as she tilted her head and smiled at him)

Jynx: "HI BUDDY!"

???: "Please don't climb on me. My name’s Alex and I'll be your waitress for today. Can I start you off with some drinks?"

Ocean: "Yes, I think we're also ready to order. I would like some chocolate milk to start as my drink, and to eat I would like the classic pancake stack with my eggs sunny side up."

Alex: "Okay, and you." (She would look over at Beau)

Beau: "I would like the bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich and some tea, please."

Alex: "Okay… and now…" (She would turn over to Jynx before releasing an annoyed sigh) "You."

Ocean: "She would like the classic French toast, and what do you want for a drink?"

Jynx: "Milk."

Alex: "Okay, your food and drinks will be right out." (She would walk back towards the kitchen)

Jynx: "BYE BUDDY!"

***

(Back at the house, Scarlet and Cotton were sitting on the couch with Candy sitting in between them both. Cotton and Scarlet were slouched, looking at each other with anger plastered on their faces. Candy would keep a close eye on both of them. A few minutes of quiet went by before Cotton stuck her tongue out at Scarlet. Scarlet stuck her tongue out back at Cotton)

Cotton: “Stink breath!”

Scarlet: “Loud mouth!”

Cotton: “Dummy!”

Scarlet: “No brain!”

Cotton: “I DO HAVE A BRAIN!”

Scarlet: “PROVE IT!”

Cotton: “I’LL COME OVER THERE, BITCH!”

Scarlet: “TRY ME!”

Candy: “STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!”

Cotton: “Or else what?” Candy: “Or else I’ll stick one of you outside.”

(They would both look at Candy before going back to slouching, minding their own business)

#my writing #writing wip #ATFAWM #ATFAWM-official #original character

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

No One’s Bitch

Pairing: dark!Steve x Reader

Summary: If Steve thought you’ll bend to his will, he was dead wrong. This kitty has some claws.

Words: 1.5k

Warning: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, kinda hate fuck?, kidnapping, language, breeding kink, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my Happy Hoelentine’s Day gift to @mariahthelioness29 . Hope you enjoy this love, wishing you a very orgasmfull Valentines! This amazing challenge was hosted by the very talented @amythedvdhoarder @drabblewithfrannybarnes and @chrissquares. You girls are amazing!

“We need an ultrasound!” Steve shouted, carrying you into Bruce’s office and dumping you on a stretcher. Your hands beat at his shoulder in protest, a snarl ripping from you as he finally let go.

“I told you I can walk!” You scream at him and he scowls at your tone.

Bruce blinked at you two for a minute before sighing, wheeling out his ultrasound machine next to you and motioning you to pull up your top.

“Did you finally get her pregnant?” He asked in an almost bored voice and you wrinkled your nose at him in disgust. The nerve of everyone in this goddamn tower!

“No, he didn’t, and if I have it my way he never will.” You huff, earning a disapproving look from both males. Bruce squeezed some cold gel onto his probe and put it on your stomach, gliding it along your stomach and abdomen, eyes trained on the screen.

“Don’t be too sure about it. I’ll like to see you try to escape once I put a baby inside you.” Steve growled and your nostrils flared in anger. You flipped him off, uncaring of his strength and threats. When he kidnapped you and claimed you months ago, Steve didn’t expect you to fight this long. He thought he’d be able to extinguish your fire, force you into a loving relationship and be with him. Well, the jokes on him. You’re no one’s bitch. Not even Captain America’s.

You looked at the monitor too, biting your lip nervously as Bruce pressed the probe deeper, making you hiss.

“What the fuck?” He sputtered, raising his brows at you and Steve. You rolled your eyes, relaxing a little. Thank fuck its not stuck in your throat. “Is that a ring in your stomach?”

Steve slumped on the stool beside you, sighing deep.

“She swallowed it.” He simply said and you sat up quickly, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Blond fucker’s a liar” You snap, “Who the fuck hides a ring in food anymore? Can you get anymore cliché?”

Steve slams his hands on the stretcher beside you, caging you in as he pressed in close to touch his nose to yours. The musky scent of his aftershave wafted over to you and clung to your pores, making you want to sneeze.

“I was trying to be romantic.” He said. “It’s valentine’s day tomorrow. I wanted to spend it as fiancés.”

You breathed out a disbelieving laugh, still surprised at how normal everyone treated this absurdity of your relationship with Steve. If it could even be called that.

“You thought that snatching me away from my family and life was romantic? You thought that taking me against me will and fucking me unconscious every night was romantic. What does a man like you know of romance and love, Mr. Rogers?” You sneer in his face.

Even as his hand came to fist your hair and pull, you don’t cry out in pain. You’ve trained yourself well enough to somehow keep the tears in your eyes and not have them spill over.

“Don’t sit here pretending you don’t come on my dick like a slut, darling” Steve said, his voice low and deep. You barely registered Bruce clearing his throat and walking away, too busy focusing on the rapidly darkening blue in Steve’s eyes.

“If we’re being honest here Steve, then your meaty cum-gun is the only redeemable part about you.” You sweetly said to him and whined as you were roughly push on your back, Steve’s body covering yours.

His lips descended on yours in a frenzy, hands frantic as they pulled at your pants. Months ago, you’d have been embarrassed by the moans that spilled from your parted mouth, but when it became clear that earth shattering orgasms was the only reward for you in this shitshow of an arrangement, you decided to make the best of it.

You pulled on Steve’s hair, biting his lip roughly when he pulled out his hard length and slapped it against your glistening folds, lubing himself in your juices. He growled against you, two fingering unceremoniously thrust into your opening that had you arching your back with pain and pleasure.

“Pathetic” Steve spat, “Only have to touch you and you become a whiny cumslut.”

You groan, wrapping your legs around his huge body to urge him closer. Heels dug into his back and you raked your nails across his scalp and back, leaving bite marks across his shoulder that had him pushing inside you with one hard thrust. You threw your head back, a choked sound howled directly in Steve’s mouth as he hips became flush with yours.

“Look at you, my greedy girl” He mocked, pulling back until only his tip was inside before plunging back inside. “Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock, can you?”

The fragile stretcher threatened to give out under the force of you both, squeaking dangerously as Steve powered into you, sweat and spit mixing on your skin and leaving you damp.

“Is that all you got, Captain?” You challenged, “Can’t make me stay even with a magic cock, can you?”

Steve’s hands took yours and pinned them beside your head, hips almost a blur as he went in and out of you, hitting so deep he seemed to move your womb.

“Fucking bitch, I’ll have you round with my seed. We’ll see how well this mouth runs when it’s too busy sucking my cock and singing lullabies to our brat” He said.

Your brows knit together as he hit a spot inside you that had you mewling, breath coming out in broken pants. You put your lips at Steve’s eyes, licking his earlobe before pulling on it.

“Can’t even get me pregnant. Maybe you should get Bucky to help.”

That was the last straw and Steve’s growl was almost animalist as he ripped away your top, sucking greedily on your hardened nipples while his dick speared you open. You screamed as the stretcher finally snapped, you and Steve tumbling to the floor, still fucking like animals in heat.

The coil inside you wound up tighter the harder Steve went, his tongue swirling inside your mouth and not letting you speak. Your eyes were locked with his furious ones, hips coming up to meet every thrust of his with your own, your juices dripping down your thighs and making a mess.

“I’ll fuck you ten time a day, I’ll spread you open and fuck you in front of everyone until the only thing you’re capable to thinking and saying is my name. You think you won, but no baby, I can do this all day!” He hissed at you and pinched your clit harshly. You snapped, a powerful orgasm tearing through you and making your world turn upside down. You howled, an agonized scream of pure, unadulterated, sinful pleasure echoing around the room.

Steve fucked you through your high, almost close to his own release when you used all your strength to turn him over, straddling him and bouncing on his cock. His eyes widened, his dick going deeper as you took hold of his shoulders and sank down on him with a moan.

“Come inside me then, Captain. Come, fill me up. Let’s see if you manage to fuck a brat inside me today after all.” You provoked and Steve grunted, huge arms holding you close as he twitched inside you, his cum painting your insides.

You collapsed on him, sweaty and spent, breath laboured. He wasn’t much better, the broken stretcher digging into his back as he pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose in your neck. You tried to jerk away, rejecting his affections but he only held tighter, forcing a sweet, almost innocent kiss on your pursed lips.

“One day, I’ll fuck you so good you’ll fall in love with me.” Steve promised and your eyes narrowed. Covered in his scent and essence, you were as marked by him as a tree peed on by a dog.

“One day, you’ll wake up with a dagger inside your chest and you’ll only have yourself to blame.” You remarked. Steve lazily chuckled, bringing you even closer. You wondered if he planned to fall asleep on the floor with you when Bruce came in, resolutely looking at the ceiling.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The doctor bemoaned and you sarcastically smiled at him despite him still looking away.

“What, haven’t you ever witnessed a good shag?” You ask and Steve’s chest rumbled beneath you. “And you, let go. I need to get that fucking ring out of me.”

Steve sighed, reluctantly releasing you and sitting up. He gave you his t-shirt to wear, your own laying in tatters on the floor.

“Will I need a surgery?” You asked Bruce who was grimacing at the mess in his small office.

“No, it should come out naturally in a few days.” He said. When you just looked at him dumbstruck, he wrinkled his nose, a little amused. “You’ll have to pass it out.”

Steve’s eyes met yours and you resisted the urge to throw something at him.

“I’ll get you a new one.” He said dismissively and you stomped your feet, fixing yourself the best you could and moved towards the door.

“I am not marrying you!” You shout over your shoulder, pushing open the door and not sparing a glance behind.

“We’ll see.” Steve said, a smile on his lips.

#happyhoelentinesday2021 #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x you

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Lying (Next) To You (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for violence + language Warnings: Blood-drinking/general vampiric shenanigans Summary: There is no goal other than escape. You want out of this castle, no matter what you have to do, no matter the consequences. At first, the solution seems to lie with one of the very women you want to get away from. But what happens when you find yourself genuinely caring for her? Length: 5,934 words

Merely surviving had never been your intention. From day one in this foul place, this unholy castle, you had strived to escape. No matter what, you refused to allow such dismal grounds to be your grave. But leaving wouldn’t be as simple as walking out an unlocked door. It required manipulation, agility, and the willingness to screw over anyone who got in your way. Even those who you would have once called friends, or the closest thing you had to that among the servants. Was that something you were willing to do? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt in your mind. Someday, somehow, regardless of what it took, you’d get out and never look back. For now, though, all you can do is scheme…

—————————

Three targets, each incredibly difficult to get your hands on, each presenting their own unique challenges. Which would be easiest to charm? You were still debating that answer.

First was Bela: The eldest, most responsible, forced to be the “role model” for her sisters. A bookworm (a trait the two of you shared) who spent a fair amount of her freetime in the library. While not overtly cruel, she was still rather violent, especially in cases where she felt her family had been insulted. However, there were whispers that she had a secret weakness: Anxiety. None had caught her in the open throes of an attack and lived to tell the tale. But she had been overheard, more than once, quiet cries or shaking breaths. Trying to talk to her during one of these occasions could lead to gaining her affection- if you managed to do what no other had been capable of doing, that is.

Second was Daniela: The youngest, most excitable, eager to please and desperate to be pleased. Easily interacted with more maidens than either of her sisters, though not always in a good way. Getting her attention could mean getting pulled into her room in the middle of the night, for some “fun”, or it could mean getting drained of all of your blood. Sometimes she did one after the other. Like Bela, she was a bookworm, though she preferred romance novels as opposed to her older sister’s educational texts. As for her weakness? To you, Daniela seemed to be the definition of “undiagnosed ADHD”. Less exploitable for sympathy than her sister, but possibly useful in helping you trick her. At the end of the day, the largest concern with her was her inconsistent behavior, her tendency to flip moods at the drop of a hat- and a drop of the hat with her could feel a helluva lot like a drop of an axe (onto your neck).

Then came the third… the one you didn’t think was worth the risk, whatsoever: Cassandra. Middle child and acting just like it, she was hungry for her mother’s approval, attention, and respect most of all. Bloodthirsty as could be, with a mean streak eight kilometers wide, the truest monster you had ever met. Even her fondness for the arts manifested in malevolent ways. Supposedly, she painted in blood, and made sculptures from the bones of her victims, displayed proudly in her room as trophies. What could you possibly do to earn her affection? What could you ever be to her, other than a plaything or mid-afternoon snack?... Nothing, you assumed, and so you figured you might as well remove her from your list. Somehow you’d have to make do with one of her sisters. As for which one?... You decided to let fate decide, and go for whomever you found yourself with an opportunity to court.

—————————

Free time was a rare commodity in Castle Dimitrescu. While every servant did technically get one day off every week, it wasn’t uncommon to end up helping with something unexpected, even if one tried to hide away in the private quarters. For you, it was an opportune time to try and get closer to your targets. So far three weeks had passed since your “decision” to focus on Bela and Daniela, without a single interaction with either of them. Still, hope held fast in your chest, as you made haste towards the library. On this free day you intended to read as much as possible. ‘Twas a two-pronged goal: First, you would increase your chances of running into one of your preferred employers. Secondly, you could possibly learn something through what content you consumed, perhaps to be utilized in later conversations.

Or such was the hope. In truth, you did not make it to the library, nor even anywhere close. A quarter of the way there you were interrupted by an ever-dreaded noise; buzzing echoed throughout the hallway, first far off, but getting closer with every second. There was a particular ferocity to the vibrations that you knew meant danger was approaching. According to the other maidens, this was a distinction that everyone learned over time, assuming that they survived long enough. The smart thing would have been to duck away into an adjacent room in the hopes that whatever sister it was would ignore you. But your endgame weighed heavy on your mind, then forced your feet to the floor. For better or worse, you would be in the woman’s path, ready for whatever she may ask of you.

“You-” a voice snarled, as a hooded figure phased out of the swarm and into your vision. Her head was held high, eyes narrowed as they stared down at you, a snarl twisting her lips. Of course it was her. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The one daughter you didn’t want to encounter. Inside, part of you writhes in self deprecation, feeling as if you should have known better. How often did the other two buzz about so angrily?... Well, certainly a fair bit, but nowhere near as much as Cassandra. Fuck, you think, I’m probably doomed. “I’m hungry. Come here real quick,” Cassandra demands, beckoning you towards her with a single finger. In another life you would have blushed bright red at the sight. A life where she wasn’t a vampiric monster, that is.

Nonetheless, you are quick to obey, masking your anxiety as best as you can. Doing so gets much harder once your gaze meets Cassandra’s, and you see her lick her lips before smirking at you. As soon as you’re within her reach, she’s surging forward, grabbing you by your shoulders, then pivoting, pressing you hard against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the sudden movements, which only widens her grin. Before you know it she’s running her tongue along your neck. Once more you gasp, this time softer, hating the way your body urges you to lean into her touch. Why couldn’t she simply get straight to the worst of it? Instead she takes her sweet time, slipping a finger beneath the collar of your shirt, slowly, carefully tugging it to the side. When she finally bites, it is terribly sudden. The pleasure comes before the pain, stronger than you would have expected, eliciting a sharp inhale from you that sounds more satisfied than you had intended. Even as a rush of pain follows, you can’t help the red that tints your cheeks.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” Cassandra asks, after licking away at your blood for a few moments, pulling back but not releasing you. Something in her eyes makes you need to respond.

“Y-yes, more than I’d like to admit,” you mumble, barely able to make eye contact. But she seems pleased by this, gently cupping your chin while she looks you over.

“Well then, if you survive… I might just have to drink from you again,” she whispers, before diving right back in towards your neck. This time her touch is far, far softer than before. It feels more like she’s kissing you rather than drinking from you. A strange, irritatingly familiar feeling springs in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t help but make more of those noises she seemed to enjoy so much. Hell, your eyes drift closed as you take in the surprisingly welcome sensation. When they reopen, however, you give a yelp of surprise, spotting a very awkwardly waiting servant. They were blushing, clearly not having expected to come upon this particular sight. Cassandra perks up at your shock, turning to follow your gaze, then giving an uncharacteristically resigned groan. “Damn it, Ava, is it urgent?” She asks, to which the servant gives a silent shrug. “I’ll be done in a minute. Now, where were we?”

Once more she resumes feeding, casting aside all traces of sweetness, sucking on your wound with reckless abandon. Behind her, Ava gives you a thumbs up before turning away. As embarrassing as the moment felt, you were grateful to xer, glad that xe seemed to recognize your desire for privacy. More than that… if xe hadn’t come along, would Cassandra have remembered to stop before your bloodloss became fatal? There was no guarantee either way. Yet xer intervention felt like a godsend, and you made a mental note to thank xer later. Soon enough Cassandra removes herself from you, pausing only to cup your chin for a moment, meeting your gaze with a smirk. Then she was turning away without another word, following Ava to some unknown destination.

A deep breath, then another, more frantic, the familiar sense of panic growing on the edges of your mind. Now that the feeding was over, you were left trembling with all the fear you had been so adamant about not showing before. How close to death had you come? How close were you now? Only feeling slightly more faint than you had earlier, it felt safe enough to assume you would be fine, if only physically. Inside your mind you were struggling with racing thought after racing thought. How the hell am I supposed to do this with either Bela or Daniela? You think, trying to breathe past the lump in your throat. And why did I have to enjoy that so much? They’re nothing more than means to an end, monsters undeserving of my kindness, of my joy. Your only comfort was the knowledge that this may very well have been the opportunity you had been waiting for; but only if you could shift your aim.

—————————

The difference was subtle, almost microscopic, to the point where it took you a full week to notice. But once you had? Everything felt different. You couldn’t spend more than three seconds in the same room as Cassandra without her eyes following you, watching your every move, sending a rush of both fear and excitement down your spine. Meeting her gaze only made her give the tiniest fraction of a smile. As soon as something (or someone) else caught her attention, however, you were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Yet it was nerve wracking nonetheless. This was roughly what you had hoped for, but you had underestimated the mental toll it would take on you. There was no way to tell whether Cassandra wanted violence, something softer, or her usual brand- a cruel mixture of both. Every second spent in her presence was a roll of the dice, a flip of a coin, either one weighted to put the odds against you.

But you persisted. Escape was not a dream, nor a fantasy, nor some far off cryptid. It was inevitable. Again and again you would swallow your fear until you reached your long-sought destination. No matter the cost, you think, no matter the consequences. Over time, that cost, those consequences, would grow. For now, it was a slice of your sanity. Next? More blood, it seemed.

“Casserole wants you to stop by her art studio,” the note said, cursive hand-writing ever-so-fancy and ever-so-difficult to read. Clearly from Ava, the mildly mysterious (but incredibly helpful) castle servant known for never speaking a word. From what you had gathered, xe was a confidant of sorts for the Dimitrescu family, trusted far more than the average worker. Alas, xe was loyal to the center of xer being, and was rumored to be impeccable at preventing escape attempts before they had even started. If you wanted out of this damn place, you knew you’d have to be careful around xer. Hopefully xe won’t interrupt this time, you think, before tucking the note away in your pocket.

Cassandra’s infamous studio wasn’t terribly far from your quarters, thankfully, though you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to arrive at a specific time. What if she wasn’t expecting you until later? Worse, what if she had been expecting you an hour ago? It’s a dangerous thought, one that could easily spiral into something far more drastic, and you try to reassure yourself, reminding yourself that Ava would have mentioned a time if it was important. In the end, you still found your heart racing as you stood outside the room in question. Pausing to take a deep breath, you center yourself, before raising a hand to knock. To your surprise, you get an answer before your hand even gets close to the door.

“Come in already,” Cassandra chimes from inside. Unsure of what terrible fate you were about to meet, you entered the room, somewhat reluctantly. Despite the myriad of unsavory rumors regarding the studio, there were no immediate signs of brutality. At the worst, the space was fairly messy, though not due to any, ahem, “misplaced” body parts. No, just an overflowing garbage bin, a few unfinished projects placed haphazardly wherever they’d fit, shards of glass in one corner, and tile floor splattered with a Pollock-esque layer of paint. In one word? Chaotic. Such was the type of environment that seemed to suit Cassandra best, the sort in which you imagined she would thrive. But you didn’t have time to examine anything as closely as you would have liked to. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Lady Cassandra,” you reply, hurriedly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Then you’re quickly crossing the room, to what looks like a cross between a storage cabinet and a paint mixing station. In Cassandra’s hands, however, you find something less welcoming than a paintbrush: A needle and an empty blood bag. Well, you think, I guess I know why I’m here. At least there’s only one bag, right? “What do you require of me, my Lady?” While the answer was fairly obvious, you didn’t know the specific steps necessary, and it never hurt to be as polite as possible with the Dimitrescu family.

“Just sit down, roll your sleeves up, look pretty, and stay still. Try not to make any noises this time- as cute as they were last time, I have a headache,” Cassandra explains, gesturing towards the room’s only chair. Ignoring the way your cheeks heated up, you did as she asked, trying to get relatively comfortable. It was somewhat difficult to relax, considering who you were with. “Calm down, pet, I’m only going to hurt you a little. That’s more than I can say for most people who end up here.” Why did she have to use a nickname for you? Weren’t you already flushed enough without her teasing you further? Though your flustering does turn to confusion after a moment, as you wonder how she knew how afraid you were. You were under the impression that you were hiding it fairly well. Noticing your reaction, Cassandra rolls her eyes, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. Normally I’d find this… exciting. But my head hurts and I wanted to finish this damn painting yesterday. So take a deep breath, little pet, and let me take what I need from you.”

Of course she had to say it like that, and put herself so close to you. You’re pretty sure that your heart skips a few beats in response, though Cassandra doesn’t react beyond a hint of a smile, merely returning to her prep work. First step was cleaning your skin. Admittedly you hadn’t been sure if that step was necessary, seeing as the blood was (seemingly) for art as opposed to testing, but it didn’t exactly surprise you. Besides, there was a chance she’d drink the leftovers, right? Next she double-checked that the needle was properly connected to the blood bag, and that the latter was resting securely on a small stand. With that out of the way, it was time for her favorite part.

“Since your heartbeat has slowed down a little… I’ll let you whimper if you want to- but only once. Consider it a reward for good behavior,” Cassandra purrs with a familiar grin. One hand gently cups your chin, while her eyes look right in yours, just long enough to turn your cheeks bright red. The moment ends as quickly as it started. Before you know it she’s turned stoic again, feeling along your arm for a vein. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your blood drawn, but Cassandra takes no time at all to find the perfect spot, likely from a mix of practice and, well, her vampiric nature. It’s not long before she’s gently gripping your arm with one hand, briefly making eye contact before pushing the needle into your skin. Does it hurt? Hardly. Do you take a shaky inhale, hoping to please your employer, the closest to a whimper you were willing to give her? Oh, absolutely. And does she react? Oh, absolutely. Her eyes light up for a second as she bites her lower lip. There’s something else in her expression that you can’t quite read, however.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” You ask, smiling, voice soft in the hopes of not aggravating her headache. It’s a risk, and one that pays off more than you’d ever expect. Cassandra giggles a tad, eying you with the least mischievous smile you’ve ever seen from her. If not for the needle still in your arm, you might have found the moment charming, or even… romantic. But you pushed the thought away as soon as possible, reminding yourself of your one true goal: Escaping. This was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Even as Cassandra ever-so-gently removed the needle from your arm, even as she carefully placed a bandage over the entry-point, even as she gave you a nod of approval.

“This should last until the painting is done, at the very least. I might need you to make another ‘donation’ next week, though. Except, hmm… your blood is quite nice,” Cassandra says. Her tone is smooth, almost sultry, but her gaze is focused on her work as she starts mixing the blood with… something? You weren’t familiar with this particular artistic process, nor did you want to be. “Maybe I’ll set up a nice schedule for you. Once a month you can be my darling little muse, and once a month you can be a refreshing snack. I’ll even make sure that my sisters don’t do anything that might spoil our fun. Assuming you continue to prove entertaining, that is.” You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. In the end you settled for the former, chest thrumming with excitement as you felt yourself getting one step closer to your goal.

—————————

Three months pass by in an easy blur. Just as Cassandra had suggested, you find yourself in her company more often than before. Only twice a month does she take blood from you, for your own safety (which she pretends not to care about), but more and more you find her lounging around where you’re working, obviously by “pure coincidence”. Sometimes she even spoke to you! Teasing here and there, or asking you to do things that she normally did for herself, or scaring you just to hear you make one of your “lovely noises”. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by how attached she had gotten to you, or by how quickly it had happened. Of course, you didn’t even know if she enjoyed your personality… or just your blood. Either way, you found yourself enjoying her presence more than you’d ever openly admit.

Eventually, when the benefits of your budding “friendship” became more clear, you started to enjoy it even more.

It was early in the morning, right when the castle residents tended to go to sleep, and when the night shift officially ended. Minutes prior you had been conversing quietly with Cassandra, dusting some shelves as you did. Now, with your duties done only slightly later than usual, you were making your way back to your quarters. Along the way you were caught off guard by the sound of distant crying. ‘Twas a sound you’d heard many times before, from many different maidens, but this time felt… different. An odd feeling of sympathy sparked in your chest, and you made the brash decision to approach the source of the noise. When you rounded that last corner, when you made eye contact with the trembling figure, you knew that your kindness could very well be the death of you. To think that you had once hoped for this encounter.

“Who’s there?” Bela Dimitrescu snarls through chattering teeth. She’s moving forward, phasing in and out of swarm mode, reaching a hand out to clutch at your throat. Well, you think, at least she’s stopped crying? More so out of being distracted, instead of feeling any comfort from your company. It’s not a terribly reassuring thought, but it’s soon replaced with a mental string of ???? as Bela pauses, grip loosening as she holds you up in the light. “You’re Cassandra’s new favorite. Damnit!” With that she drops you rather unceremoniously. Then she’s turning her back to you, sniffling before wiping the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or I won’t hesitate to string you up, no matter what my sister says. Now get lost.”

Except you can’t force yourself to move. There’s a small piece of you that remembers your original plan, another small part feels a twinge of sympathy, and a majority of your brain sees this as an opportunity. What was a little more risk?

“Would you like me to bring you some tea, Lady Bela?” You ask, attempting to keep your tone neutral, lest she think you were judging her. In response, she turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed, thinly veiled rage only outweighed by the remnants of her anxiety. Then she’s stalking forward with cautious, deliberate movements. For a moment she searches your eyes for any hints at your motive. Hoping to ease her worries, you elaborated on your offer, and the reasoning behind it. “I’ve read that holding something warm in your hands, like a mug of tea or coffee, relaxes the brain. I believe it had something to do with mimicking human touch?... Forgive me if I’m overstepping your boundaries, my Lady. I… I felt compelled to ask, to help in whatever way I can.”

“Oh?” Bela hums, the majority of the anger draining from her face. There’s a hint of genuine surprise behind her bright eyes. “Very well, if you say it might… help.” Before you can turn to leave, you hear her clear her throat, and say one last thing. “A little softer than I would have expected from a pet of Cassandra’s.” She certainly had a point. But you don’t bother responding, instead focusing on your self-given task. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you were really Cassandra’s “pet”, or if there was more to your dynamic. Why did you feel so weird about the idea of being a mere “distraction” to her?... Something to think about while you made that tea, you supposed.

—————————

When you assisted with serving lunch the next day, Bela refused to make eye contact, even as you set a plate in front of her, or when you refilled her wine glass. There was a stiffness in the room that you weren’t familiar with. For the most part, Cassandra is more welcoming, giving you a small nod when you meet her gaze. By the time the family is done eating and moves to leave, the sisters are grouping together to speak in hushed voices. While you clean up after them, you cannot help but wonder if they’re discussing the previous night, or if Bela was as adamant about keeping quiet as she had seemed. Regardless, you felt rather good about how the conversation had gone. Hopefully she’s feeling better, you think, surprising yourself. Not that it matters… unless she tells Cassandra, I suppose.

You don’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s a double-edged sword, in a way. On one hand, you find yourself missing her, unused to not interacting with her at all. On the other hand? All the sudden you’re realizing just how involved she’s become with you. Certainly that meant something? Progress towards your eventual goal of escaping? God, you sure hoped so. Thinking about the future, about your plans, lasts you the entire night, thoughts following you all the way into bed. Sleep feels a million years away, and you find yourself staring silently at the ceiling. Unmoving. Damn near unblinking. When there’s the sound of footsteps outside your room, you are more than welcome for the distraction.

“Wake up, little pet,” a voice calls, as your door opens, and someone quickly slips inside. Before you can even sit up, you feel them slide into the bed with you. “It’s too cold in my room. You’re much warmer, aren’t you?” Clearly your darling Cassandra come to entertain herself. Considering how late in the day it is, you feel like you should be upset, and yet you feel yourself daring to wrap your arms around her. For a moment she goes stiff, but she soon relaxes into your touch. “You’re getting so good at knowing what I want from you. Mmm, I think I’ve trained you well,” she teases, shifting onto her back so she can pull you onto her chest. Although you’ve been this close to her before, this is the first time you’ve realized just how cold her skin is. No wonder she wants to sleep with me, you think, blushing at your unintentional wording.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” you mumble, curling up against her nonetheless. She’s laughing then, without any hint of her usual malice, and you can’t help but laugh with her. When had the two of you gotten so warm with each other? Why did it feel so natural? There’s anxiety gnawing at the base of your skull, threatening to build up into a headache, tugging you away from the softness of the moment. If Cassandra notices, she’s quicker to act than you would have expected. It feels safer to believe that her next actions are a coincidence. Feels… better, when you remember that you are playing her for cheap, that any friendliness is a mockery made for the most bitter of betrayals to come.

“That’s why I’m here, dear. Now hush, I need some rest. With how comfortable you are… I may even let you sleep in,” she teases, before pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of your head. Your throat dries up in response, blush overtaking your cheeks, and you are left unable to speak. The thundering of your heart seems to somehow lull your would-be lover to sleep, while you find yourself growing to love the contrast her chill provides. Somehow, someway, you end up sleeping more soundly than you have in years.

—————————

Another month passes. No opportunities to escape, no grand moves to make in this 4D game of chess, no clever plans to entangle yourself in. Yet you find yourself content. Happy. The work keeps you as busy as ever, but Cassandra often steals you away for her own desires. When she goes to drink your blood, she does so gently, with many soft kisses leading into the big moment. Afterwards she cleans your wound herself, touches as light as a feather, eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. At night, you find her coming to you for warmth almost every day. At first she provides little more than teasing excuses. But in time, she becomes more open, even being so bold as to kiss you on the lips every time, greeting you with quiet “dear”s and “darling”s. It gets to the poin that you cannot sleep without her presence.

Day after day, you find it harder and harder to remember why you were doing this. Was it so bad to enjoy your time with her? Was it so bad to find yourself leaning into her touches, kissing her back, gleefully awaiting your nightly rendezvous with her? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, guilt and shame alike dancing inside your chest. Those days were the hardest to get through. Somehow, again and again, you go to her for comfort. To the very source of your conflict. Every last feeling was driving you towards an inevitable point. A conclusion written in stone, one that had been decided from the very first time Cassandra dug her fangs into your neck.

—————————

Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming, somehow more pained than that of any maiden you had ever heard, echoing throughout the castle halls, achingly familiar in tone. You had never heard her scream before, and yet you knew that the sound came from Cassandra. Before you can even begin to process your realization, you are thundering through the corridor, towards the noise that rattled your mind so desperately. How could anything possibly hurt her? How often had you seen her push her siblings around, each of them taking hits that could break bones as if they were light shoves? As if the punches tickled? Horror overtakes your thoughts, imagination far worse than reality had any right to be.

When you at last reach your lover, you are frozen in your tracks, eyes wide as can be. There she is, howling with both rage and pain as someone repeatedly slams the butt of a rifle into her head. Behind the fighting duo is a sight you never thought you’d see: An open door. Wide open, enticing, leading straight into the world you had sought to rejoin. You want to leave. God, you want to leave so bad. This is what you have been waiting for- Cassandra has not even seen you yet, too busy grappling with her attacker, movements too slow to be normal. What was wrong? Why were her limbs such a strange color? Was that… frost on her clothes? Or… crystal? Your gaze flickers back and forth between her and the exit, as time seems to pause, memories of the past few months racing through your mind. Goddamnit, you think, this is what I want, isn’t it? Consequences be damned, right? I said I wouldn’t stop for anything.

And so you move, automatically, on autopilot, unable to think about anything other than what you treasured most: Cassandra. One moment you’re standing still in the foyer, the next you’re grabbing a poker from the fireplace. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the movements come naturally, as you surge towards the scrambling pair. In one swift motion you drive the metal rod into the skull of the intruder, hating the sound, hating the splatter of blood against your clothes, hating the feeling of resistance followed by a terrible, terrible give. But the man slumps almost immediately, allowing your girlfriend to shove him off of herself. Still unable to think coherently, you’re throwing yourself into her arms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my god, I- I, fuck. Are you…? Fucking tell me that you’re okay, please,” you ramble, holding the dangerously cold body of your girlfriend close to you, refusing to let go. She’s crying, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to her. But she’s responding in the affirmative. Over and over, saying she’s okay, telling you that it’s okay. Before you know it, she’s the one comforting you.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Okay? Look at me, take a deep breath. If anyone should be freaking out it’s me,” she says, pulling back enough to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s blood on her fingers, making your eyes go wide, but she quickly wipes it off with a scowl. Then she’s caressing your skin again, soft repeating motions perfect for calming you down. “That’s right, see? We’re fine. You’re a fucking badass, darling, and honestly? It’s very attractive.” Now you’re both giggling, you a bit more than her. Because of course she’s flirting right now. It’s an incredible softness. One that you, quite frankly, do not feel you deserve. At first it’s a tiny voice in the back of your head, but it soon grows until it strikes the smile from your lips. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really,” you interject, as fast as you can, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra isn’t convinced, however, and gives you a pleading look. Knowing that you cannot resist her, you close your eyes, sighing, then admit your wretched truth. “The door. Cassandra, the door’s open. I… I came down the hallway and I saw the two of you and I saw the fucking door and I… I hesitated. I hesitated.” There’s a mighty tremble to your voice, teeth and lips shaking. In the moment, you cannot bring yourself to meet her gaze, eyes instead glued to the bloodstained floor. It’s so quiet that you swear you can hear your tears hitting the tile. The air around you is filled with a looming heartache, a shadow over the two of you, hungry for your tears. But the rage you anticipate from Cassandra never comes.

For fuck’s sake, she pulls you closer. She takes you in her arms, making you rest your head against her chest, one hand gently rubbing circles into your back. Shock makes you unable to do anything other than linger limply in her grip. Thankfully, she has more than enough words for the both of you.

“Of course you did. All you ever wanted was to escape, right? And all I ever wanted was to see how much fun I could get out of you before you betrayed us,” she admits, coolly, as if the words didn’t break both of your hearts. At first, you merely start crying harder, realizing that she had seen through you this whole time. Realizing that all of her softness had just been sharpness covered in sheep’s clothing. Except she’s not done talking. “Now look at us. Couple of idiots who caught feelings. So shut up, because we’re in this mess together, now, and I don’t intend to let you go, understood? You-” she pulls back, looking you right in the eyes- “are mine. Besides… you just killed for me. I think that more than makes up for any hesitance, yeah?” Before you know it you’re kissing her. You’re pressing yourself to her, smiling through your tears, forced to pause to laugh at yourself. How ridiculous had this whole affair been? How had you convinced yourself, for so long, that escape was all you had cared about?...

All this time you thought you wanted out. But at the end of the day… you just wanted to go home. How could you have guessed that you would have found a new home, here, in someone’s arms? Despite the surprise of it all… you couldn’t be happier.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #the soft to your sharp

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 26 - The Higher Realm

The Higher realm continues. So close to the end!

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

______________________________

Time passed, but it was difficult to tell how much. Time worked so differently in the different realms. How long did we really spend trying to save one lower realm? Minutes? Decades? It felt like no time and forever. Adonis and I traveled to lower realm after lower realm, fixing the stories, stabilizing the world before heading back to the higher realm.

Some lower realms were easy, if a bit annoying, such as the high school dramas. In those I would often play the “average” new girl at a school. I would meet new people, and was supposed to go on to have romance, betrayals and coming of age realizations. I quickly realized that befriending all my supposed romantic leads instead of dating them, reconciling with my rivals instead of humiliating them, and pushing towards success all together was a much more satisfying strategy. Fortunately, graduating valedictorian with a happy and psychologically healthy group of teenagers often stabilized worlds that had been torn apart by half-baked character design or infighting between rivals.

I took calculus so many times that I could recite lessons in my sleep, but at least the worlds were saved. Despite our success, however, Adonis was often frustrated. He had his own vision of how we were to save these realms. His plans almost always involved us dating, making the high school romance “successful”.

I refused.

He had been a lot more likable since our first meeting, and I was able to consider him a close friend and ally… but I felt uncomfortable at the idea of even pretending to have a romantic relationship. It was definitely a more difficult route to stabilize the world without a romance, but I chose it every time. Adonis pouted and complained, but couldn’t argue with success, and I was successful.

Some lower realms were more difficult. In particular, zombie apocalypse stories were my least favorites. The worlds often couldn’t be stabilized until a cure was found or humanity’s survival was assured. This meant that Adonis and I sometimes spent decades within these realms, working to build armies, or teams of scientists. There was hardly ever any running water, which meant showering was few and far between.

My unwashed self was made even filthier by my absolute failure at using anything with range. Bow and arrow, guns… anything that would keep me out of the gore, I couldn’t hit even the largest of monsters. Fortunately I picked up a sword with relative ease, which allowed me to fight… but this also meant I got covered in rotten blood and guts.

I hated zombie worlds the most.

Realm after realm. We worked constantly, spending very little time in between in the higher realms. Adonis would often try to use those moments to push his ideas regarding fate and the higher realm’s story, but as soon as I rejected him, which I did every time, he would simply scowl and pull us into the next lower realm to save.

It was getting old.

“How many lower realms are there?” I asked one evening as we recovered from our latest mission, rubbing my sore shoulder where I had taken a blow in the last sci-fi alien battle. The wounds disappeared with the realm traveling, but my mind still could feel the wound, projecting the pain long after I had left that form behind.

Adonis leaned back in his chair, his grin a little too bitter to be a natural expression. “How many unfinished stories are there? Infinite, Bel. There are infinite lower realms. We will never be able to save them all. Not like this.”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of options.”

“There are options. You just don’t want to hear them.”

“What, this fate you keep talking about?” I sighed, closing my eyes, tired. “ It sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity shown through all the same. “It’s our duty. Everyone’s survival depends on it.”

“But what you’re saying is: we follow along some sort of script…”

“Fate.”

“…fate… here, in the higher realm. And that is somehow supposed to fix the lower realms?”

He chuckled. “You’re oversimplifying it, but pretty much. We follow our fate, and the heroes of the lower realms will find their happiness tied to ours.”

“What if they don’t want that ending? What if they don’t want that happiness?”

“Of course they do! Everyone wants a happily ever after with their destined one.” He snapped. My eyes flickered open to study his enraged expression.

“I don’t.”

“You’re selfish!”

I shrugged. “Am I? If you’re right, we submit to fate here, everyone in the lower realms gets an automatic happy ending… but most of those worlds aren’t breaking because they don’t have a happy ending. They need a wider world, different ideas… and what about the side characters, even the villains… what about their happiness?”

“They don’t matter.”

“Why not?” I raised an eyebrow. “Just because they’re the villains?”

“They’re evil.” He stood up, trying to tower over me. An intimidation tactic, one that might have worked before we’d spent countless years fighting in life-or-death battles together.

“Have you met the heroes and heroines of some of these realms?” I laughed. “They’re not much better. I don’t think these roles are as clear as you would like them to be. And I don’t think you and I having a happy ending together, and forcing a simplistic ‘and they lived happily ever after’ on all the lower realms will actually fix them. In fact…” I stood up, and he stepped back slightly at the danger in my tone. “I bet we would break them all the more. Are you really so foolish as to think that saving a universe of worlds would be so simple?”

“…” Adonis was gritting his teeth, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. But I didn’t back down. Didn’t step back. I knew he wouldn’t hit me. He wouldn’t dare step out of the role he imagined himself to be in. Wouldn’t dare cross a line that might ruin his chances at the happy ending he seemed to crave so desperately.

“…” The silence stretched on between us. We were at an impasse. He wanted to follow fate. He wanted clearly defined roles and rules to follow. And I?

I wanted freedom.

*** Soul transfer 11% complete. ***

It’s been forever since I last saw those words… I thought it had disappeared. For some reason, I felt a deep sense of relief at the glowing blue sentence. Something within me had frozen during these many trips to the lower realms, but finally it was growing again.

“The next world is waiting.” Adonis spoke up, his tone flat. I noticed an odd shifting of his gaze, a reluctance to meet my own, and felt a sense of unease.

I won’t like this next world. I cracked my knuckles and gave him a thumbs up. Well, no sense running from a challenge.

We left.

______________________________

I woke up in a luxurious canopy bed. Staring up at the fabric , I raised my arms and have a cheer.

“YES! NOT A ZOMBIE WORLD!”

On the downside, the setting appeared to be a more primitive era, medieval at best, which meant no running water, but at least I appeared to be noble or wealthy.

At least if I suffer, I’ll be clean while I do it!

“Princess?” A young woman dressed as a servant entered the room, seeming very confused. “Are you all right? I heard you yelling.”

I smiled brightly at her. “No worries. It was just a nightmare.”

She visibly relaxed. “Even so, you seem in a much better mood, if I may say so.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you haven’t broken a single thing this morning.” She, unfortunately did not seem to be kidding. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted your father’s decision.

I didn’t have my character’s memories yet. I needed to accept the mission first. In the meantime, acting too out of character could destabilize an already poorly functional world.

“I’m still… thinking it over.” I spoke up cautiously.

“It’s not so bad, your highness.” She smiled at me. “Most young girls feel a little uneasy when their father arranges their husband. But you’ll be happy. I just know it.”

Arranged marriage?

“After all, Prince Harold is reported to be a true gentleman, a might warrior, and a handsome young man!” She sighed dreamily. “Any woman would be thrilled for a chance to be his bride.”

“I’m. Sure.” I spoke through gritted teeth, the satin sheets crumpling in my grip. Adonis, when I find you, I’m going to make you regret every life decision you’ve ever made… and the ones you’ve only considered making. What kind of lower realm did you land us in? As I plotted my revenge, the mission screen popped up.

**** NEW WORLD: A Divided Kingdom****

This is a romance fantasy story featuring a prince and a princess from different kingdoms, putting aside their differences to save the world.

“I already don’t like this.” I muttered.

The Princess Alaire of the Yenlar Kingdom was a clever, independent woman, horrified at the idea of an arranged marriage. Prince Harold of the Bestion Kingdom felt differently. He fell in love at first sight and vowed to woo the young maiden. The couple was different in almost every way, and seemed destined to bicker and fight.

“Then how about we don’t get married?”

But fate had other plans…

“Of course it did!”

A terrifying beast threatened to destroy both their kingdoms, and to survive, the political marriage had to go forward. Uniting the kingdoms, and therefore their armed forces, was the only way to save their people.

However, despite the happy ending, the first book was not well received by readers and the trilogy was abandoned due to poor sales. The reason given was that the romance was “forced” and unbelievable.

Your mission is to bring a satisfying end to the story, while making ensuring the survival of both kingdoms.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

“Quick question.” I spoke quietly to the glowing words in front of me. “Do I have to marry the prince to ensure an ending?”

The kingdoms will not unite without the political marriage.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I asked if I HAVE to marry the prince. What if I can save both kingdoms without a political marriage?”

The stability of the world is all that matters.

“No lecture on the necessity of fate?”

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

I grinned. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

As the words faded away, I jumped out of bed. My head spun slightly as I accepted the memories from the poor princess of the original story.

She had not been happy.

She had dreams, ambitions. The Kingdom of Yenlar allowed for women to inherit the throne, and as the firstborn she was ready to take over from her father, to rule her nation. She had spent her entire life preparing. Studying law, economics, warfare…

And all of it had meant nothing in the end.

She had begged for a political treaty. One that did not involve marriage. The Kingdom of Bestion had refused to even discuss it. They stated that there was too much distrust between the kingdoms to move forward without some sort of permanent assurance. Even the threat of annihilation from the ancient beast of legend wasn’t enough to have them reconsider. That wasn’t the full story, though.

Later she discovered that Prince Harold had seen her at a party. He had supposedly fallen in love with her at first sight, and became determined to marry her. He had learned of her plans to marry a minor noble, one who would support her position on the throne without causing an imbalance of power within the nobility. He had no chance, as far as she was concerned. The threatened destruction of their people was just the perfect opportunity to force the matter.

She had lost all power. Becoming a figurehead, a beautiful statue beside the true king, Harold. He ruled over both nations with an iron fist, treating her own people more harshly, much to the approval of his staff. She slowly became bitter and deranged, watching the destruction of the people and the nation she loved so dearly.

Beyond the end of the first book, when the realm’s story ended, she had attempted to poison him and failed. Harold had been disappointed, but felt that she still had use as a figurehead. They faked a stroke, and kept her mute and weak with poisons. A lovely doll. A perfect figurehead.

…is this a fantasy or a horror? Sheesh, no wonder the trilogy wasn’t going to sell. I shuddered, still standing awkwardly next to the beautiful bed that had belonged to a lovely young woman.

I will change this story. I spoke silently to the memories, feeling a sense of relief that didn’t belong to me as I did so.

First, let’s try to reason with Adonis. He and I had worked together in multiple realms, side by side. We were friends. We may not see eye to eye when it came to our approach towards fate and the lower realms, but he had never forced me to do something I didn’t want. He had always respected me and backed off when I said no, even if it made him unhappy.

Hopefully this time will be the same. I thought uneasily. Hopefully he will listen.

______________________________

“No.” His tone was gleeful, but his face was calm, towing with a silver goblet rather than meeting my gaze.

“Are you joking?” I leaned forward, keeping a gentle smile on my face to fool the guards and our fathers who sat on the other end of the enormous dining table.

“I’m perfectly serious, Princess Alaire. Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to work together. We can only work together if we trust each other. The only way the Kingdom of Bestion will trust the Kingdom of Yenlar is with a marriage alliance. It’s out of my hands.”

I reached forward and took the cup from his hands, forcing him to look at me. “Why are you forcing this, Adonis? You know it didn’t work out so well for the originals.”

“Careful Princess.” His eyes glanced over at the nearby guards. “You don’t want anything to destabilize the situation further, now do you? Better to act as a proper princess should.”

“Answer the question. This plan already failed. Why do you think it will work?”

“Simple.” He leaned forward and plucked the goblet back from my hands. “We’re different. You may not want to admit it, but we have spent lifetimes at each other’s side. Growing up, going to school, facing enemies, fighting together… we could make this work. It would be a wonderful ending.”

“You know what happened to Alaire after the first book.”

“I would never do that to you.”

“But you are.” I growled, wishing I could punch him. “You are trying to make me a beautiful figurehead, just like Harold did to Alaira.”

“We would rule side by side.”

“What use is that promise, if you are already ignoring my wishes and forcing me to do this in the first place?”

He shook his head. “You have to trust me. This is the only way we can defeat the monster, and stabilize this realm. We’ll save this world. Together.” He smiled. “It’s our fate.”

I threw a plate at him, forcing him to fling himself on the floor to avoid injury. Walking out, I ignored my father’s shouts of rage. Picking up a bag I had packed ahead of time, just in case, I changed into some light armor, grabbed a sword, and headed out into the forest.

If I couldn’t win by a political alliance, I was going to find another way to save the world.

I was going monster hunting.

I searched Princess Alaira’s memories of the legends and stories, going out in a northern direction towards the area known as Death Valley.

As I marched onward, my thoughts wandered over the time I had spent since I had woken up in the Higher Realm. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Adonis. He might truly think that he was saving the world by insisting on going through with the marriage, but his lack of willingness to even consider other options was frustrating. He was the only person consistently by my side through every one of these worlds, someone I considered a friend, and being unable to rely on him served to make me feel all the lonelier.

My mind briefly touched on the assassin of the first realm, Liam. I had thought with his comments and actions that he had known about my mission… that he might be from the higher realm too. But no matter how much I looked for him, no matter how much I hoped to see him again, I never did.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was someone from the lower realm, and I’ll never have the chance to see him, to thank him.

I felt a sense of despair. How long can I keep doing this? Is this why Adonis preaches following our fate so much? Is he as tired of traveling, tired of the missions and the different lives? Is he just hoping to end all this?

I sighed, keeping moving. I’m not that tired, not tired enough to sacrifice my freedom. Not yet, anyways.

It took several days of traveling. Fortunately from my years of experience in zombie worlds, I was well prepared to survival in the wilderness. At least here the rivers were clean, allowing me to bathe occasionally. Finally I was at the entrance of the valley, staring up at the pillars on either side.

There were ominous words carved deeply into the stone.

Only death lies ahead.

I stared at the words silently for a few moments, and then shrugged.

“Still better than marrying Adonis.”

I moved forward.

______________________________

The valley was dark, a deep fog settled in permanently, apparently unaffected by the weather beyond its borders. Dark twisted purple trees rose all around me, their roots tearing through the earth desperate searching for nutrients. The valley was quiet, suffocating in an unsettling silence. My presence there felt like an intrusion, my instincts screaming at me to run away, to escape.

I kept moving.

There were no other signs of life. But I knew at least one other being lived here, the reason why nothing else dared to.

The Ancient beast.

There were no descriptions of it in the legends. Just that it was deadly, enough to take on entire armies. And that it was terrifying.

I feel like I should have seen something by now, if it was so large. I sighed, sitting on one of the trees, staring up at the mountain ahead of me. Shouldn’t it be easier to find an enormous beast that terrified an entire world?

…

Wait.

I looked up, struggling to see the top of the mountain in front of me.

I’m in a valley…

The mountain moved up and down, with regular motions.

There shouldn’t be a mountain here.

It was breathing.

I drew my sword, inwardly despairing. I had underestimated the sheer scale of the monster. I had thought it would be the size of a house, an elephant. Instead it towered stories above me, unimaginably large.

I was doomed.

There was a rumble as the beast in front of me shifted. I couldn’t tell the shape, just an impression of scales and spikes. Slowly, something lowered down in front of me, stretching forward in all directions, filling my vision. I saw teeth larger than my own body, the white of them contrasting with the dark fog around us. As I prepared myself for my death, an eye opened to stare at me.

It was a beautiful dark blue.

“…”

Suddenly, I felt relief. It was incomprehensible. I was standing in front of an ancient beast, enormous and terrifying, and instead of fear and dread… I felt safe.

I raised a hand, almost despite myself. “Hello there.”

The eye blinked. I comforted myself that it hadn’t eaten me yet.

“I think you look awesome. I’m Princess Alaira from the nearby kingdom of Yenlar. I actually came here to kill you, to protect my people… but now I realize that you could crush me like an ant, and that was a bad plan.”

The eye blinked twice. It seemed more confused than anything.

“I have a much better plan, if you would be willing to listen to me.” I let out a laugh, slightly startled at how… villainous it sounded.

*** Soul transfer 20% complete. ***

The creature let out a sound like thunder. I felt that it was laughing too.

______________________________

The wedding was this morning.

I was surprised as I drew near to see the party going. You would think that after I disappeared, they might have canceled or delayed it. I assumed that Adonis had felt sure that I would agree with him in the end. That I wouldn’t be able to let the world end just because I didn’t want to marry him.

Well too bad, buddy. This princess has a different plan in mind!

I could see him, standing on the elevated stage before two thrones, waiting. I couldn’t see his expression from this distance, but I imagine he was barely hiding his worry. Alaire’s father and Harold’s father were also waiting on the platform, their postures betraying their impatience.

“Let’s get this party started!” I yelled.

ROOOOOOOAAAAAAR!

The ancient beast let out a triumphant roar as he flew closer and lowered his head, letting me jump down onto the platform before landing behind me, a large, threatening mountain of a creature.

“Alaire?” The king called out, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, Father.” I also nodded to Adonis, who stared back.

“What is this?”

“Your daughter is a witch!” The King of Bestion shouted, drawing his ceremonial sword. “She betrayed us!”

“Hold on, father.” Adonis held out his hand, stopping his attack. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

I grinned.

“Nope. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’ve teamed up with the Ancient being. We’re friends now.” I gestured at the monster high above us, who let out a grim chuckle, shaking the ground. “So now I make the rules, got it?”

“…”

“I’ll take everyone’s stunned silence as happy agreement! Now, first rule: Wedding canceled.”

“What?”

“You can’t do this!”

The three other royals on stage shouted simultaneously. I simply pointed again at the enormous creature.

“I can do whatever I want. The big scary monster behind me says so. Next, the kingdom of Bestion will surrender to me, as will the kingdom of Yenlar.”

“You want to rule the world?” Adonis’s gaze was… disappointed. I grinned shamelessly. “Nope. But here’s the thing: Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to convince the monster not to kill us. The monster only trusts me. So I have to rule both kingdoms.” I shrugged. “It’s out of my hands.”

I threw his words from earlier back at him, and felt satisfied as he winced in recognition.

“We… surrender.” His words were quiet, defeated.

“You unruly child!” My father tried to shout, but a roar from the monster above us silenced him. He quickly surrendered too. I accepted both surrenders, quickly organizing the meetings to bring our governments together under one rule. Fortunately, the princess’s years of study served me well, guiding me smoothly through the process.

______________________________

I had one more confrontation with Adonis, the night before the coronation. He was escorted to my rooms by guards, saying he had a request. I hesitated briefly, but allowed him in, waving the guards behind the door so we could speak freely.

“What was that?” He shouted as soon as they had left.

I stayed sitting, forcing myself to be calm. “I fixed the story.”

“You ruined everything! Even if it stabilizes this world, it will ruin it in the long run.”

“Says you.”

“Trust me.” He threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY.”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid. These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the story is going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

I sighed. “No, there’s always different paths to take. You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

Adonis stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just accept.”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful.

“your.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own.

“fate.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

THUD.

The blade in my hand threw through the air, stabbing into the wall inches from his face. I smiled cheerfully as he looked back at me, shocked.

“Try touching me again, and I’ll cut off something you’ll miss. We’ll discuss missions and roles again in the higher realm, but for now?” I rang a bell and guards came in, escorting him out. “I have a coronation to plan.”

______________________________

My coronation was held outside so that the Ancient beast could stand behind me. It seemed cheerful, letting out victorious roars and swaying from side to side. The people cheered as well, seeming a lot happier than I expected them to be. I guess they’re relieved that they won’t be eaten by the giant monster? I wondered idly how I was going to incorporate the creature into the day to day life of a monarch. For an odd reason I had very little doubt that the monster would stick around.

However, all my plans came to nothing. As the crown was placed on my head, bright blue words formed in the air in front of me:

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

It was time to go.

At little sad, I looked up at the ancient monster above me. “Thank you, friend for your help. I wish I could stay with you longer.”

A mournful cry echoed through the world. It seemed to understand that I was leaving. Before I could say anything more to reassure it, the world around me shimmered and disappeared.

Only to reveal a furious Adonis standing in front of me.

“Happy now, Your Majesty?” He sneered.

“Oof, someone’s still a little angry that I used an ancient monster conquer the world. Believe it or not, I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. But you know why I did what I did. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

I walked away, feeling his glare on my back long after I was out of sight.

______________________________

When I woke up, I realized that I couldn't move.

I panicked, struggling to move my arms and legs, only managing to turn my head slightly. Enough to see Adonis’s smug expression as he sat by my bed.

“It’s time for our story to progress, Bel.” His smile was strange, twisted. I couldn’t talk back, I shook my head slightly side to side.

“I’m the hero, you are the heroine. If the relationship between us can’t be advanced by working together, than it must be forged in adversity." He reached down and picked me up, carrying me out of the small cottage I had arranged for myself and into the castle courtyard. Whatever drug he had injected me with was slowly wearing off, and I struggled in his arms, finally able to shout.

“Put me down!”

To my surprise he did, and although I struggled to stay upright, I kept my balance and glared at him.

“What are you planning?”

He sighed quietly. “I’m tired of always being the one to compromise. It’s time for you to make a sacrifice, Bel. I’ve avoided this so far, worried that progressing our story this way would kill you, but it seems that it is our fate that we take this risk. It’s… unfortunate. I do very much hope you don’t die.” He paused, trying to smile at me. “Don’t worry. It’s only temporary. I’ll come and rescue you soon.”

“A sacrifice?” I felt cold, even as I stood in the warm afternoon sun. My thoughts were slow to form, possibly a side effect of the medication. “Why?”

He shrugged. “There’s an order to everything. Rules. Law. They are all that stand between us and pure chaos. No one can ignore them. Not you. Not even me.”

“Then sacrifice yourself, asshole! Why send me?”

He shrugged. “It’s your role to play, not mine. Your fate.”

“Screw fate! I don’t care if you say it’s temporary or not! Friends don’t sacrifice friends!” I was furious, still weak and feeling helpless.

His hand reached out and brushed my cheek, the touch freezing my skin. I wanted to move away but I could still barely move, only managing to glare at him. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. It’s not my fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame the story.”

“Ad…”

“Sorry, you must accept your fate.” I felt a pinch in my arm, the stick of a needle as he injected something into the muscle. Immediately darkness overwhelmed me.

“We all do.”

Everything faded into darkness.

______________________________

When I woke up, I was in a strange world, surrounded by forest. I lay on my back, still feeling weak, fury coursing through my veins.

Adonis and I had worked well together, despite arguing multiple times in the past. But now… any goodwill I had towards him was gone. He had betrayed me. Knocked me out and sent me to somewhere dangerous, somewhere I could be killed, just to follow his precious fate. To get the story he wanted.

“Are you lost?

I looked over at the source of the voice. It was a tall young man with dark hair, wearing grey, non-descript clothing. He kneeled down next to me, and I found myself staring into dark blue eyes.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I smiled despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

Liam? Could he be…?

“…Nice to meet you, Liam.” I laughed. “Or should I say: nice to see you again?”

*** Soul transfer 25% complete. ***

#writing #please fix the story #fantasy #fate #next part will be fun #world hopping

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starlessea · 3 years

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𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 2. Manic Pixie Dream Bitch

A/N Make sure you read the prologue and other chapters first! Things are starting to pick up - I hope you stick around for the ride.

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 5374

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury, Domestic abuse mentions

The evening was cool, and a breeze hung in the air.

The midday Georgia heat had all but melted away, leaving behind tepid winds that rustled leaves on the trees — and the canvas tents. They fluttered around you as you walked, like the beating of butterfly wings, or ripples atop the ocean.

It was peaceful. It felt safe.

All eyes were on you as you followed Daryl to the firepit, taking a seat on a low log beside him — but not too close.

The night was still too young to turn in yet, so the man had begrudgingly led you out of his tent when the silence became stifling. For some reason, conversation didn't come as naturally to the two of you as it once had.

There was tension there. You could feel it.

But you didn't have the slightest clue why. The last time you had seen Dixon, it was in the midst of a tremendous thunderstorm. The two of you had laughed, and ran through the rain until your clothes were soaked through, and your skin was cold.

It was one of the best nights of your life.

Yet, here you were — sitting beside the man in stagnant silence as he kicked at coal embers with his boot, and pretended not to feel your stare seeping into the back of his head.

Across from you were the people you had briefly met earlier — the two officers by the names of Shane and Rick, or helicopter boy — the asian man named Glenn, and Carol who was sitting beside her husband. Their individual conversations were low, barely audible against the crackling fire, but one-by-one they seemed to filter off, until there was nothing but silence once again.

Shane stood up.

He stoked the fire a little with a branch, careful not to let the flames rise too high. "So, tell me," the man spoke, his voice wide and assertive,"how's a sweet young thing like yourself figure out how to fly a Sikorsky Hawk?"

His presence was big.

It made you shuffle in your seat as his eyes dragged down you, resting on your arm — which was bound by a sling. "Well, minus the landing part," he murmured below his breath.

You didn't like the way he smirked when he said that, like it had been amusing to him — funny to him that you'd almost died. Daryl let out a sound beside you, a low rumbling noise from the back of his throat that only you could hear. But you didn't bite to his words.

After all, men like that could only bark.

"I was in the military," you answered, meeting his eyes and not breaking the stare.

Your throat was still sore, but your words rang out clear, atop the thrum of the evening air, and flickering flames. Shane stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on the balls of his feet — as though he was putting on some type of show.

"Air force, then?" he questioned, but it was starting to feel more like an interrogation.

You caught the whites of Carol's eyes across from you, as they darted between the officer and yourself, and to her husband, then back to the other officer. She seemed as skittish as a person could possibly be — just watching, waiting, for something to happen.

You cleared your throat and forced a smile. "Training to be," you clarified.

For some reason, the exchange didn't feel like a conversation. The mood was too tense, too untrusting. It reminded you of the few minutes you'd spent alone with Dixon, back at his tent.

Something felt wrong.

Shane stalked around the firepit, his police boots crunching against the leafy bed, and kicking up dirt where he walked. He stopped directly in front of you, looming a shadow down onto you and Daryl — and making the other man scoff as he looked up.

"So not actually a pilot yet?" Shane smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your smile faltered, he was asking too many questions.

The other officer, Rick, took off his sheriff's hat and tracked his partner's movements with his eyes, as though anticipating something that hadn't happened yet. It made you feel a nervousness you were ashamed of.

You never did play well with men like Shane.

"And tell me this," he said, lowly, as he crouched down to your level, "why aren't you at Fort Benning?" He looked back over his shoulder, at Rick who was sitting stiff as a board, before cocking his head back to you."Or were you part of the group that showered Atlanta with napalm?"

The word hung heavy in the air — even though he had practically whispered it.

Your mind flickered back to the day it rained fire down upon the city, to the sounds of screams, and the charred remains you'd stumbled across on the occasions you wandered too close to the centre.

You shook your head immediately, feeling the pain shoot up your shoulder. "I had no part in that," you hissed — much more viciously than you anticipated.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you curled in on yourself. You didn't miss the way the man recoiled slightly from your face, and you'd even caught a fleeting glimpse of your reflection in the blacks of his irises.

You wore a look of pure disgust.

"I was discharged," you whispered, after taking a few moments to collect yourself. "Couple months before all this." You glanced to your right, to where the former mechanic was sitting — trying to pretend like he wasn't watching you. "Got sent to Georgia afterwards, which is where I met Daryl," you explained, noticing his eyes narrow at your words. "Briefly."

He looked away. He didn't seem to like that choice, either.

Shane stood back up, stretching out his knees, and then his neck. He rolled his head back in a circle, before glancing to and from you and Daryl with a smirk.

"Makes sense," he murmured, before turning on his heels to walk away, "dropouts tend to stick together, no?"

And for the second time today, Dixon went wild.

The tension finally snapped, like an elastic band having been stretched to its limit, and Daryl shot up to his feet, lunging for the man.

But you reached out for him at the same time, trying to grab his hand so that the night didn't end in the way you were almost certain it was going to end.

After all, you'd only seen Daryl go off once before — back in the old world — which had left an aftertaste of bloodstains over your bar, and maroon-tinted bruised knuckles that needed tending to well after your closing time.

But now he seemed even worse — more tightly wound than a coil beneath your boot, always ready to jump up and spring.

He was playing the part of a man far more angry than you had ever known him to be.

Although you still couldn't figure out why.

The ticking of the wall clock was stark against the silence. Joe's Bar had been cleared out more than an hour back, but the two of you remained — like ghosts haunting whiskey bottles and looming around the jukebox until it played a song you liked.

Dixon hissed as you tipped alcohol over his knuckles, watching as it seeped into the cuts and spread over his bruises like a clear film. They weren't that bad, really — only a purplish hue to them.

After all, you'd seen the other guy.

But you'd never seen Dixon get so riled up before. He'd always been a cocktail of shy glances and dumb wonder around you. That was until tonight at least, when a drunken customer slapped your ass at the bar, and the mechanic beat him bloody.

He'd probably seen how rattled it had made you, and how you looked ready to either snap or break.

"Ya don' have to do this," the man rasped, purposefully avoiding your eyes. "Save the vodka."

Your hand stilled over his knuckles, as you breathed in the strong, sharp scent which made your lungs burn. You laughed, pointing back over your shoulder at the shelves atop of shelves — stacked with an array of bottles, all different shapes and sizes.

"We've got plenty to spare, don't you worry," you hummed, before tipping more Smirnoff onto a cotton pad. "And you didn't have to do that, either," you chided, narrowing your eyes at a particular cut — which had already begun to crust over. "I could've handled him."

The mechanic scowled, glancing back over his shoulder to the place where it had all gone down — as though watching the scene play out once more in his mind.

He shook his head. "Ya could'a lost yer job."

"I'm used to that by now," you bit back, not once looking up from his bruise-splayed knuckles. "But Dixon," you cautioned, "don't go doing that again."

A car drove by outside, its headlights streaming in through the window and illuminating the dark husk of the bar — the pool tables that had been otherwise cloaked in shadows, and the expression of the man sitting opposite you, studying your every word.

"Joe might bar you next time," you whispered, screwing the lid back onto the bottle.

But Dixon only laughed.

"Barred from a bar?" he scoffed, stretching out his fingers to inspect your work, "he ain't gonna do tha'."

The stool squeaked as the man stood up, dusting off his jeans and retrieving his jacket. It was long past midnight, and you knew you'd be catching a ride back with him as he sped down the streets, reminding you to hold on tighter.

"What makes you so sure?" you teased, untying your apron and leaving it at the end of the counter.

Daryl held the door open, and fished around in his pockets for something that jingled — pulling it out to show you.

It was a set of car keys, with a tacky coke-bottle charm hanging from them.

"Still got his truck sittin' in the shop," he smirked.

The scuffle between Shane and Daryl was interrupted before blows could even be exchanged. Rick grabbed a hold of his partner, whilst you pulled the former mechanic back down to his firepit seat, trading places with him until you were face-to-face with the other asshole — a few inches shorter but a whole lot more pissed.

Daryl tried to stand back up again, but you flashed those eyes at him — the ones that made him immediately second guess the action.

"Sit down," you seethed, punching out each word as you spoke them.

And surprisingly, Dixon did as you said.

You weren't angry at him, exactly, but you didn't want him fighting your battles for you anymore — especially not whilst he had a chip on his shoulder more noticeable than the sling on yours.

Then you turned back to Shane, looking up at him as he stood with his chest almost flush to you, completely ignoring Rick's pleas behind him. He knew exactly what he was doing. That comment wasn't off-handed — he made sure you could hear it.

"I don't like you," you said lowly, not backing down from the glare he shot your way.

You didn't want things to turn out like this. There was nothing more you hated than making a scene.

Well, there was one thing, you thought.

You couldn't fucking stand men who abused their power.

"Don't have to like me, princess," Shane retorted, reaching out a hand in your direction. "I'm just here to keep you alive."

You smacked his palm away — as though it were a fly buzzing much too close — before he could make contact with your skin. And you saw red.

Daryl would have punched a man for less, if you'd so much as given him the right look. But this time, you shot a warning glance at him, telling him to stay put.

"Don't fucking touch me," you whispered, but your words held more weight than if you'd screamed them — and Shane retracted his hand. "I can take care of myself."

Except, he made a point of letting his eyes drag over your injuries, lingering on the makeshift sling, before settling on your stomach — as though he could see your stitches underneath the material of Daryl's shirt.

"Clearly," he remarked, before turning on his heels once again.

Nobody stopped him this time — not even Rick — as he stalked around the fire, and into the night. You caught a glimpse of his metal dog tags as he did, glinting off the light of the flame and jumping around his neck with every step he took. You thought it was ironic for him to even wear them.

Or maybe not.

After all, he seemed the same as every other military man you'd encountered — a goddamn animal.

"Make sure you take care of your manic pixie dream bitch," he yelled, probably directed at Dixon. "Wouldn't want anymore helicopters fallin' from the damn sky."

And so Shane disappeared into his tent — into the shadows you couldn't quite make out — and Daryl stood up straight after, heading in the opposite direction. The remaining group was uneasy, tentative almost, as they watched your head whip back and forth between them and the mechanic as he left.

Dixon stalked away into the brush, despite the shouts and warnings not to stray too far from the campsite.

And you followed him.

With each step further from the flickering flames of the bonfires, it became harder to navigate the night. Your injuries had slowed you down, and you flinched every time a twig snapped, or leaves rustled near your ear. You didn't even have a weapon anymore — since it had burnt up with the rest of your gear in the crash.

But it didn't take you long to track down Dixon. After all, his smoke trail gave him away.

He was sitting on a grassy bank, over facing the quarry waters. There was a full moon out, and you could now see it peering above the tops of the trees — ghostly white against the stark, black sky. And cigarette smoke swirled around it, leading back down to the shadowy figure on the ground, legs tucked up to his chest as he breathed deeply.

You approached, wincing as your shoulder caught on a low-hanging branch.

"Yer gonna bust ya stitches messin' 'round like tha'," Dixon spoke, not even turning around to confirm it was you. But still, he outstretched a hand, helping you sit down beside him.

The moonlight was beautiful. It drizzled over the treetops in the distance, and the spindly branches that reached up to the sky. It even reflected off Daryl's skin as you glanced at him in the corner of your eye — watching as the smoke poured out from his lips and settled in the air.

You tucked yourself into his side just a little, missing the heavy feeling of your jacket which smelt like him — and was almost just as warm. Part of you expected him to shrug you off, or make some remark in-keeping with how withdrawn he'd been throughout the day.

But, he didn't.

He let you sit beside him, as he blocked you from the breeze — as though you weren't the one person who would be used to it.

"Got a spare?" you asked, eyeing his packet of cigarettes.

Dixon hesitated for a second, before placing them down in the space between you. "Thought ya didn't smoke," he replied.

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't."

In truth, you'd only recently taken up the habit — smoking much too scarcely to even call it a habit, really. It had all started when you'd stumbled across a rundown convenience store, and looted a packet of cigarettes without thinking — just because they were the brand that Dixon smoked.

The first time you lit one, you'd cried. They smelt like him.

They'd smelt like your only friend, and reminded you of just how lonely the end of the world was. So, you started to smoke — only when you missed him — and you continued because, even though he was now sitting beside you, for some reason you still felt empty.

Neither of you said anything after that, but you could hear his thoughts — those questions he wanted to ask but didn't. After all, he'd voiced them once before, back before the world ended. Except, it was you who wasn't willing to answer.

"What'd ya do tha' got yer ass sent here?" Dixon asked, one day whilst you were hanging around at the auto-shop, watching him scrub down that Honda bike. "Y'know, locked away in rural Georgia."

You laughed at his words, taking a swig from the ice cold cola you'd skimmed from Dean's fridge.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I was training to be a helicopter pilot," you admitted into the air, answering that question truthfully for the first time.

But he'd already guessed — after the day you'd both had.

"Why didn't it work out?" Daryl mumbled, the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke the words.

You watched as the smoke formed white clouds against the black night, before finally reaching for the packet yourself.

"Fear of heights," you told the man, letting out a breathy chuckle that blew out the lighter's flame.

It was a lie, but the truth was much more bleak.

Though, perhaps that was what nights like this were for. Out here, there was no one else to hear you speak your thoughts, or even see the two silhouettes sitting in the dark. Maybe you could even start trusting the man called Daryl Dixon, since he'd done nothing but pick you up and set you back onto your feet ever since you fell from the sky — and even some time before that.

"No matter how long I would fly for, I always had to land at some point," you explained, though it didn't really sound like much of an explanation. "But the people on the ground made me wish that I never had."

Daryl met your eyes, and in that moment you swore you saw a glimpse of that former mechanic — the one who was street smart but still clueless to people.

"That was until I met a man at a garage who promised to show me the world on his bike," you smiled, before letting the smoke trail from your lips, "but we ended up watching the stars instead."

Dixon didn't smile back.

And somehow, the smoke on your lips tasted more familiar — felt more like Daryl — than the man sitting beside you.

"Ya can take the tent tonight," he mumbled, snuffing his cigarette butt out on the grass.

You pulled a face, but he didn't retrieve it like he normally would — he probably thought there was nothing left in the world worth preserving anymore.

"And what about you?" you asked, making an expression he couldn't even see. "You should rest up before tomorrow."

But the man shook his head in the dark, pushing back on his knuckles to stand up — and offering you his hand once more.

"I ain't none of yer concern," he dismissed, whilst his palm was still warm in yours, "'m gonna sleep out under the stars."

The stars were bright overhead, with no light pollution, or mysterious blinking flickers that could have been mistaken for planes of satellites. But somehow, you didn't fully believe his story.

You laughed, but it wasn't the warm kind. It was the kind that felt foreign on your tongue, because it was a far cry from the fits of giggles the man normally had you in.

"Well, enjoy the view," you replied, shortly.

But you failed to notice the way Dixon watched you the entirety of the way back to camp — as though he already was.

Once Daryl had walked you there, and left you at the tent doorway, he did indeed roll out an old blanket over the grass, to lay back underneath the stars — just as promised.

He was far enough away that he didn't feel like you were right beside him, but still close enough to make out your silhouette against the lamp-lit canvas walls of his tent. That way, he didn't have to worry about walkers — but he didn't have to worry about you, either.

The night was quiet. The full, bright moon beamed down on him like a streetlight and the stars blinked in the sky like peering sets of eyes — staring back at him whilst he looked up. Daryl sighed, and crumpled his packet of cigarettes in his fist, crushing any left inside.

He needed to stop smoking them, because now they'd become tainted by you — and had become another thing that inescapably reminded him of you.

The lingering scent of them on his fingertips alone made him remember just how intoxicating you were. It made Daryl feel like he'd gotten a high from the scent of unbottled moonshine, or from that smile of pure starlight which could make a man go blind.

Though, he'd only had the pleasure of seeing it once today. The rest of the time you'd been pissed, confused, hurt.

He'd probably caused a lot of that — he wasn't that oblivious.

But you were the type who could break his heart without even knowing, and then offer to mend it like it had been someone else who'd done the damage.

He didn't understand how you could act so nonchalant, so blasé, as though you hadn't nearly died, and as though you hadn't just come back from the dead — where Daryl had thought you'd been this entire time.

He laughed, and it almost sounded as cold as the one you'd directed at him earlier.

Merle always called him naive, but Daryl often overcompensated for the fact with blind curses and bruised knuckles from butting heads those who suspected him of being as much.

But it had been the truth.

He was naive — especially when it came to you.

But, Daryl was also angry and hurt. And he didn't know how to fix that without bruising his knuckles — or his ego.

He bit his lip, wetting away the dryness with his tongue, whilst trying not to focus on how dry his throat felt, too. Then, Daryl rested his arm over his eyes.

He didn't feel like watching the stars anymore.

When you awoke, light had filtered into the tent through the mesh netting, speckling over your face like glittering gold as you blinked.

But when you awoke, the man was gone — leaving only another shirt behind in his place.

It almost made you cry, because of how familiar it felt. It smelled like Joe's Bar, of Marlboro cigarettes, of Georgia, and of home.

But you couldn't cry; you hadn't done since the day everything fell apart. So instead, you pulled on your big-girl shirt — the one belonging to the man twice the size of you — and grit your teeth as you threaded your bruised arm through the sleeve, and caught your stitches on the buttons.

You spent the whole morning trying not to notice the glaringly obvious absence in the camp — the men who'd left in search of Merle Dixon. But at the same time, you grimaced at the sight of the ones who hadn't left, the ones like Shane, and Carol's husband — who leered at the women as they washed his fucking underwear.

"Carol, why don't you ask Ed to come and help us," Andrea remarked, glancing towards the man resting languidly by his jeep, "make himself useful instead of just standing there smoking cigarettes."

Beside you, Jacqui laughed a high-pitched laugh, as she wrung out another damp t-shirt in her fists. You had only been formally introduced to her this morning, but her smile was infectious — and for a minute, it made you forget about the anxiety deep in the pits of your stomach.

Carol was quiet, but eventually chirped up once she mustered enough confidence.

"If I knew how to get him to do that, I would have done it years ago," she muttered, and shyly rolled her eyes.

Andrea boomed out a laugh, whilst the others chimed in at the appearance of Carol's unexpected humour. You tried not to let the chuckle wrack up your body, since every slight movement sent shockwaves to your injuries. But at this moment, you didn't really mind.

Carol had a pretty smile, and an even nicer laugh.

Except, her husband didn't seem to think so.

He stalked over with the same bravado Shane had mastered the night before — probably taking inspiration from the other man who wore boots three times his size. You could make out the sneer on his face before he even got within a few steps of you all. It was just that deep.

The man flicked his cigarette in your direction, and it barely missed the toe of your boot.

"What's so funny, hmm?" he jeered, but his tone was anything but light. You didn't have to hear them twice to recognise those words as a threat. "Gotta be somethin' if it's got you ladies so distracted."

Each of the women stayed silent as a grave — as though in some secret pact Ed was unaware of. He sauntered around, weaving in between Jacqui and Andrea, until the latter eventually snapped.

"Is it really any of your business?" she remarked, frustration clear in her voice. "After all, we're the ones doing your laundry."

She thrust the damp clothes she was holding at the man's chest, before letting them fall to the floor. The moment you heard them hit the ground, your hands were already shaking with adrenaline. You knew that look — the one Ed wore — and nothing good ever came from it.

He stepped up to Andrea, his pride damper than the shirt at his feet. "Know your place, little bitch," he hissed, shoving her back with his shoulder.

And chaos broke out.

Jacqui's screams sounded very much like her high-pitched laughs had done, and Lori called for Shane like a broken record that only knew a single name. You wanted to get everyone to calm down. You wanted to diffuse the situation like how you'd been trained to do.

But all you saw was red.

Carol interjected, lacing herself around her husband's arm as she begged for him to stop. "Ed, please don't-"

The man backhanded his wife, sending her to the ground with a single strike.

And that was your queue.

You rushed over, feeling your feet sink into the pebbles deeply with each step. You had a dozen stitches in your stomach, but you would rather pop every damn one open than let him get away with that.

"You dare lay your hands on her?" you roared, approaching the man — the monster — from behind as he loomed over Carol like a shadow of cowardice.

Ed reacted out of instinct, flailing his arm backwards and hitting you across the jaw with his elbow as you tried to pull him away. Immediately, your mouth pooled with the taste of copper, and you spit it out onto the pebbled stones beneath your feet.

You looked over at Andrea, who was dumbstruck as she watched blood drizzle from your lip, before you wiped it away by the sleeve of Daryl's shirt — with your one good arm.

"Get Carol out of here," you said, so quiet that it might as well have been a whisper.

You looked at the man, sizing him up as he stared you down.

"She isn't gonna want to see this."

The evening sunset was a vibrant salmon, tinged with deeper, darker hues the further you got from the sun. Those parts of the sky were the same maroon colour as your jaw — you'd caught glimpses of it in Andrea's compact mirror.

You'd spent the latter part of the day avoiding Shane's lectures, and the women who meant well but fussed over you far too much. So, you retreated back to Dixon's tent — icing the ripe bruise on your chin with a pack from Dale's RV cooler.

The scent of Marlboro cigarettes lingered around you — faint but still present in the fibers of the blankets beneath you, and in your shirt which was now bloodstained. You tried to ignore the pull of it, not wanting to smoke.

The tent puckered as someone fumbled with it, and soon the entrance flap was unzipped — revealing Carol, who timidly ducked inside.

"We meet again," you greeted her, thinking back to how she'd tended to your wounds in this very spot, not even a full day before. "I was going to apologise for beating your husband into the ground, but I couldn't bring myself to say that I'm sorry."

You grimaced as the words left your mouth. They sounded a lot more sharp than you'd intended.

But she still smiled warmly at you, a smile that you didn't think you deserved, and shook her head. The woman sat down on her knees opposite you, coaxing the ice-pack away from your skin for a second to inspect the damage.

"I don't blame you," she said, as gentle as her touch. She smelt like citrus, and summer days as her palm ghosted over your face. "I came to thank you, actually. For being the first to stand up for me."

Your gaze dropped down to where her sleeves had risen up, revealing the yellowish bruises dotted over her arms — in the shape of fingerprints.

"Well, someone had to," you noted, sadly.

She caught the way your eyes lingered, and quickly adjusted her shirt, pulling it back down to her wrists.

"Was it really that obvious?" she chuckled, nervously.

But you felt like she already knew the answer.

Her stance was practiced, even sitting down. She wasn't at all relaxed, hovering on her knees like a small rabbit, ready to dart to safety at a moment's notice. You felt like you were looking into a mirror — one that only reflected the past.

You nodded. "When you know the signs, it is," you admitted, sitting back against Dixon's pillow. "I had my suspicions before."

She hummed in return, acting much more casually around you than she had done a mere moment before. "What gave it away?" she asked — curious more than anything.

Light streamed in through the little plastic windows on the tent, falling in a stream between you — warm against your lap.

"Your hair, for one thing," you confessed, gesturing with your free hand. "You shave it yourself? To stop him grabbing it during fights?"

She remained silent at the accusation, but her eyes gave her entirely away.

You nodded. "They always tend to stoop that low."

And Carol bit her lip in response, not pointing out how you'd done the same with your braids — keeping them tight to your scalp, not even a strand out of place.

She excused herself then, making some remark about how she best ought to go check on her husband, before letting you catch a glimpse of the brave scowl which made its way onto her face as she said it. The sun hung high in the sky as she ducked back out, almost as bright as that full moon had been the night before.

"Hey, Carol," you said, loud enough for her to still hear it, "if he gives you trouble again, don't hesitate to come find me."

The woman nodded once more, and waved you off.

"Just you wait until my good arm heals," you called after her. "My right hook's even better than my left."

Then, you winked — watching as she debated letting out the laugh she had stifled — as you recalled the actual reason that got you hauled off to Georgia in the first place.

Dishonourable discharge, my ass.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :)

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends.

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier.

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier.

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off.

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go.

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure.

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.”

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.”

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side.

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated.

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?”

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip.

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?”

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.”

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].”

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously.

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape.

#hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #tw religion #tw christianity #long form #tw customer service #tw blood #tw violence

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emotionalcadaver · 1 year

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The Doctor Is In

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Vanessa has a problem that only Jonathan can help her solve.

Series: Part 8 of The Shadow Game

Word Count: 3,539

Notes: Warnings for smut, semi public sex, and slight choking kink. I want you all to know that I giggled for about five minutes when I came up with the title for this.

Main Masterlist

Previous Part • Next Part

She glanced back over at the clock on the wall, ran the numbers through her head, index finger tapping in time with the ticking of the clock against the surface of her desk.

Fuck it.

She strode across the room to him, barely giving him enough time to let out a startled “what–” before she was situated in his lap and kissing him.

“I have a problem,” she murmured. Jonathan visibly shuddered, an eyebrow quirking as his lips twitched upwards.

“Is that so?”

“Please,” she hadn’t even meant for the world to slip out. Jonathan’s eyebrows rose up and he leaned back, eyes half amused and half very aroused.

“What was that?”

Had it been any other situation she would have snarked back at him, but she was fairly certain that if he didn’t fuck her right now she was going to explode, her pride nowhere to be found.

Oh, she was never going to hear the end of this.

“My beautiful Nes,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“Jonathan–” she croaked out, hips jerking against him.

His eyes flickered down her body, a light tisk on his lips. “My poor Nessa. So needy and I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

“Jonathan, please. Please.”

He undid the fastenings on her pants quickly, pulled them down her legs and then he was kissing up them, slipping her thighs up and over his shoulders.

“Jonathan,” she whispered. He gripped her face with one hand, forcing her to look at him as he finally nudged against her entrance.

“Close,” she choked out in warning, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm swell up in the pit of her stomach. Jonathan nodded, shifting his hips ever so slightly and–

“Feel better?” his voice was still a low rasp. She snorted a bit, turned her head to kiss his fingertips.

“Yes, Doctor Crane.”

He poked her in the shoulder, eyes narrowed playfully at her snark.

“Don’t ever think that I’ve heard you beg quite like that before.”

She felt her cheeks flush and burrowed her face in his neck to hide from his amused eyes. “Shut up.”

He laughed, arms tightening around her. “I’m not complaining.”

“Mm,” she pressed a kiss to the bite she had left on his shoulder. They remained there for a few more moments, just holding each other before Jonathan checked his watch and groaned.

“Glasses are on the desk,” she offered helpfully.

“Let’s leave early tonight,” he said, eyes suddenly glowing almost mischievously. Vanessa let out a mock gasp.

“Jonathan Crane! Are you suggesting that we play hooky!?”

Jonathan snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure hooky only applies if you skip out on the whole day.”

“Well, I don’t know. You see, my boss is kind of a hard-ass about that sort of thing…”

His eyes narrowed at her playfully, arm going to wrap around her waist. She giggled, hands resting on his chest.

“I think he might be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

Vanessa laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“Ready?” Jonathan asked, hand hovering over the lock on the door. She nodded and he gave her one last soft smile before he turned the deadbolt, and together they walked out into the hall.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

Previous Part • Next Part

Series: Part 8 of The Shadow Game

Main Masterlist

#vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #jonathan crane x oc #jonathan crane #the dark knight trilogy #my ocs #fanfiction #rewrites #the doctor is in #smut #my fanfiction

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 3 years

Text

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 24 of 27: Graduation

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

Choose Me Instead Masterlist

Words: 3.2k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of mental health issues incl. self-harm (only in like 2 sentences tho)

Four weeks until graduation …

Draco Malfoy and you were over. Whatever glimpse of happiness and fleeting bliss had been bestowed upon you – it was gone. It was gone and you were alone again. In your head, you replayed your last time together over and over and over until you felt sick to your stomach. For months did you pretend not to feel anything for him beyond friendship but damn, you loved him. You loved with him with every fiber of your body. Every thought on every day was devoted to him and him only. You looked for him in the hallways, glanced at him during class and each time your eyes met, another piece of your heart broke.

To be quite honest, you weren’t worried about yourself as much as you worried about him. You spoke to Theo from time to time, asking him about Draco. He told you exactly what you had suspected all along: his dreams had gotten worse. He skipped therapy sessions, spent his days scribbling in his black notebook instead. You knew it wasn’t fair to you but you still couldn’t help but blame yourself.

During meals, you watched him with Astoria who was glued to his side. To your surprise, she seemed happier. Even though she grew paler with each day she wore a smile on her face. An honest, happy smile. You heard her laugh and wondered if it had been this beautiful all the time. You watched her talk to Draco with a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. You wanted to hate her but seeing her like this? It certainly made it harder for you to do so. Still, each time you saw them walking to class or sit outside on the grass, your stomach plummeted and on particularly bad days, tears filled your eyes.

Eventually, you grew sick of feeling this way. You had fought hard for your own happiness to return after all the shit you went through and to now have it taken away from you in an instant by him felt humiliating. The whole mess started because you wanted to hurt Ron. So how did you end up hurting instead?

You tried tuning out the pain by burying yourself in work. Studying, quidditch training, stupid parties in the Gryffindor common room – you tried anything and everything to numb down the pain. It worked. For the most part. However, your thoughts always began to stray after a while. As soon as his image popped up in your mind, you pinched yourself as if you were trying to wake up from a bad dream. One time, you did it during a therapy session and Merlin, did you regret that. The lecture about self-harm that followed was definitely not worth it.

The days grew warmer. Sunlight fell through the dusty windows of the Hogwarts classrooms, the smell of flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air. Summer had begun to knock on the door. You weren’t ready to open it yet. Once summer arrived, your life would change once again.

However, before that happened you still had to get through your exams. You dreaded the thought of taking them. These past months … well, to put it gently, your focus hadn’t been on school exactly. Sure, you spent hours upon hours in the library but you weren’t sure how much of the things you read actually stuck with you.

“Ready?”, Ginny asked you the morning of your final exams.

You glanced at her and shook your head. She laughed. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. We’ve taken thousands of exams, we’ll get through it. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Y/N doesn’t achieve the grades she needs to become an auror,” Hermione chimed in matter-of-factly. “That’s the worst that can happen.”

“Thanks, Mione,” you said dryly.

She smiled at you apologetically. “It won’t come to this, don’t worry. You got this. We all do.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

***

Two weeks until graduation …

You sat together with Ginny and Hermione at the Black Lake, feet dangling in the water, eyes closed as you enjoyed the sunrays warming your face. Ginny kept on talking about the tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies that would take place just a few days after graduation while you and Hermione only occasionally commented. You reassured her that she would do just fine. After all, there was no doubt in your mind that Ginny Weasley would join the team and have a successful quidditch career ahead of her.

After a while, the conversation shifted. Hermione worried about the amount of reading she had to do before her internship at the Ministry of Magic started, and you snorted. “They don’t expect you to know everything about the job beforehand, y’know?”

“Well, good impressions are important,” she replied.

During the whole afternoon, the topic of your future plans didn’t come up. Your friends sensed your apprehension regarding that particular topic. After the utter debacle that was your exams, you tried to forget that you were supposed to have an idea of what to do with your life in just about two weeks. You still waited on a letter from the Ministry, waited for the news that your plan had worked out. That you could become an auror, a dream you had since you could think. Yet, you screwed up and you weren’t sure if your performance in the final exams was enough to get you a placement. Thankfully, your parents were still too wound up in the whole drama Alissa brought with her. They didn’t even ask how your exams went and you weren’t mad. The importance of exams paled in comparison to the prospect of a life sentence in Azkaban.

A bee buzzed close to your ear and you opened your eyes again.

***

One week before graduation …

“You look horrible, darling.”

You rolled your eyes when Theo appeared by your side. You were on your way to the Great Hall, earlier than usual in an attempt to study a few more minutes in the library before your first class. “Thank you, Theodore. Just what a woman wants to hear before breakfast.”

He snickered. “Apologies.” Then he held his hands out, motioning you to give him some of the books in your arms to help you carry them.

“Accepted,” you said and gave him the whole pile of books instead. He groaned and you chuckled at him. “How are you then?”, you asked.

“Relieved about the fact that school is almost over.” He dodged a first year student who ran past him and one books slid dangerously close to the edge of the pile. You were surprised by how many students were already awake.

“Any plans for what comes after?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Travel.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Travel?”

“Blaise and I are going to travel around Europe for a few months,” he explained. “I need to get out of the country where everyone knows me as ‘that Death Eaters kid’ and Blaise is simply loaded with money and doesn’t want to work.” The two of you laughed at the last statement. “And afterwards …” Theo shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“That sounds nice,” you sighed. “When will you leave?”

“After Draco’s wed-” He stopped midsentence. “Ah, shit.”

You bit your tongue. Actually bit it. “It’s official then,” you said softly. “I haven’t seen the announcement yet.”

Theo stopped. You had almost reached the Great Hall. The Slytherin looked at you with sympathy. “It’ll come out today.” He lowered his voice: “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You avoided his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Theodore stayed quiet until you resumed your walk. “For what it’s worth, he doesn’t love her,” he finally said. The statement hurt even more.

“What a fucking mess we made.”

Theo nodded. He didn’t say anything else. When you walked into the Great Hall, he handed you the books back and softly squeezed your arm before mumbling: “I’m really sorry.”

He was right – the Daily Prophet printed the announcement of the wedding on that same day. Yet, when an owl dropped the paper onto your plate, you were oddly calm. You lowered the glass of orange juice carefully and rolled up the newspaper. Their picture was on the front page.

Astoria’s beauty was unlike anything you had ever seen. She wore a simple black dress and was glowing in the picture. She smiled widely as her gaze switched between Draco and the camera. Spooky how different she looked. You wondered if they had used magic to hide the circles underneath her eyes and the sunken-in cheeks. Draco stood beside her, wearing his trademark simple, black suit. His back was straight, his eyes focused on the camera. He didn’t smile.

As if you had felt his stare, you looked up. Draco sat across the hall at the Slytherin table, Greengrass – his fiancée – by his side who excitedly showed the article to Parkinson. You forced yourself to smile but it didn’t reach your eyes. He turned away. Just in time to miss the tears you had to blink away.

This isn’t right, you thought, none of this is right.

***

One day before graduation …

Tears streamed down your face as another sob shook your body. You stared at the letter in your hand, reading it over and over again. At this point, you had memorized every word but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,

When an owl brought you the letter, you didn’t open it immediately. You didn’t want to do it in front of your friends, already sensing what was written inside of it. So instead you grabbed it and went to the bleachers of the Quidditch field. High up above, where no one would interrupt you.

We regret to inform you …

It wasn’t entirely unsuspected but it didn’t hinder the tears from dwelling up. Before you knew it, they streamed down your face. Cold fear gripped your heart. This is it, you thought, it’s all over now. Your entirely life you wanted to become an auror. You had no plan b, no other option, it had always been this. And now you failed.

“Y/N?” The voice caused you to whirl around. “What happened?” Draco. His eyes widened in shock and concern when he saw your face. With three long strides he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Draco …”, you whimpered and then he was there, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered and held you tighter. Instinctively, you relaxed against his body and let him embrace you. It felt so right. “Shh, it’s fine, it’s all going to be fine.” He repeated over and over. Sobs shook your body while your tears drenched his uniform. It felt as if hours had passed until you finally began to calm down. With each shaking breath, the scent of his cologne wrapped itself around you.

“What happened?”, Draco asked again when no more sobs escaped you and you quietly buried your face in his shoulders. Without a word, you held up the letter. A few seconds passed and Draco snorted. “Well, their loss,” he said, audibly disgusted.

You whimpered another time. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve done more, I-I …” You wiped over your eyes. “What do I do now, Draco?”

He sighed before he answered: “Anything you want. Y/N, you’re intelligent, clever, witty, beautiful – you can do anything you want.”

“Except for becoming an auror,” you scoffed.

“Maybe. So what?” He shrugged. “Fuck them. It’s their loss.”

You remained silent. Draco had his arms still wrapped around you. In this position, you almost forgot your situation. This felt so … normal. So right, so natural. As if it was meant to be. As if he was the one to hold you in this exact moment. You thought about asking why he was up here on this night but held your tongue. A part of you wanted to believe that it was because of you. Everything started up here on the bleachers, last year in September. Right here, the two of you talked for the first time in years. A conversation, you could recall to this day. Everything began here. Maybe he came back because he hoped to find you here. You wanted to believe that.

“It’s all I ever wanted to do,” you whispered after a moment. “I don’t have a plan b. I –” Another tear rolled down your cheek. He looked at you, his grey eyes full of love and adoration, and wiped it away.

“You’re hurting, I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright though, I promise.”

You smiled sadly. “Everything goes to shit in my life, everything! The fucking war is over and yet I can’t seem to catch a fucking breath.”

“I believe, the war will stay with us for a lot longer than we thought,” Draco whispered. He didn’t let go of you as he watched the castle in the distance. The sun begun to set and drowned the Scottish landscape in its golden light. It was a marvelous sight.

Sudden music caused you to flinch. A group of seventh year students had arrived on the Quidditch field. Loud voices and laughter mixed with the rhythm of a new popular song. They weren’t from your house, you realized.

“I should leave,” Draco said. And when you recognized Astoria’s high-pitched scream as a drunken Blaise picked her up, you knew why he was here to begin with. Not for you. For them.

“Yes, right, I’m sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straight. Draco let go of you reluctantly before he got up. He looked at you and you wondered if he was going to say something. But even if he wanted to, he didn’t. He only nodded and then made his way towards the stairs.

“I feel as if I should congratulate you on the engagement but …”, you suddenly spoke up.

Draco stopped and glanced at you. “Don’t.”

You saw how a shadow flickered over his face. Then you remembered something else. “Wait, I have something for you.” You reached inside your back and pulled out a picture. He looked at you in surprise when he gave it to you. It was a picture of you two from the last Christmas, taken during a dinner. Draco had his arm wrapped around you and raised a glass of wine, an amused smirk on his face. You laughed in it, covering your mouth with your hand. It was the only picture of the two of you but you loved it. It showed Draco the way he truly was. The way he made you feel every time you looked at him.

“You carried it with you this whole time?”, he asked softly. He held the picture so carefully as if he was afraid to accidentally damage it.

You gave a half shrug. “Only for the last few days. I hoped to catch you alone at some point.”

“Thank you.”

“Will I see you?”

He looked up at the question.

“After graduation, I mean?”, you clarified. “Maybe send me an owl once or twice a year? I need to know you’re okay.”

“So you can rip out my heart again, little Gryffindor?”

You opened and closed your mouth at the statement. Draco chuckled. “I’ll do it. If you promise me to reply.”

“I promise.”

You didn’t know it yet but Draco would keep his promise. However, when you received his first letter, you broke yours.

***

A few weeks after graduation …

The last day of school came and went. Funny how you had expected it to be filled with tears and laughter when, in the end, it was just another insignificant day of the year. To be fair, some tears had been shed. Long hugs with your friends and promises to stay in touch were shared on the train station in King’s Cross before all of you parted ways.

Your parents picked you up. They looked like mere shells of themselves as they kissed you on the cheek. A lump formed in your throat when you saw their sad faces. They had aged immensely in these past few months, the stress had left deep wrinkles and tired eyes behind.

They didn’t speak much on this day. They only hugged you when you told them about the rejection from the Ministry. “I’m so sorry, darling,” your father had mumbled, “you’ll find something else, I’m sure.” A part of you was relieved they didn’t ask any further questions.

The next morning, your mother had asked you if you wanted to see Alissa. You didn’t. You couldn’t. The mere mention of her name made you grit your teeth. Alissa was the reason for all the suffering in your family’s life. For all the heartbreak and tears. All the sisterly feelings had shrunken during the past year. Now you were left with rage and hatred when you heard her name.

“Will you please come to the court hearing in two weeks then?”, your mother had asked when she noticed the expression on your face and you had agreed.

And here you were. Standing in your kitchen, a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hand while you listened to your parents screaming at each other upstairs. You had just come home from the hearing and now looked outside into the garden. The roses, once your mother’s pride and joy, were neglected, you noticed. Their heads hung, most of them dried up from the summer sun.

“Twenty-five years in Azkaban,” you mumbled to yourself. Alissa’s future. Twenty-five years locked away on an island. You had hoped the sentence would give you satisfaction. It didn’t. Instead it frightened you. Would Alissa survive this? Twenty-five years without seeing her family? Would your mother survive it? Or would she wither like the roses in her garden?

You took a sip of your tea and wondered how your life changed once again, now that the problem of Alissa was finally … resolved. It ended. The anxious waiting, the not knowing … it all ended. By now, she would have already arrived in the prison cell that would be her home for the years to come.

You hadn’t spoken to her. You had watched her in the courtroom while she didn’t look up at your family. During the whole hearing, her eyes were locked on the ground and she remained silent. It was the strangest sight – the broken-down woman in the dirty dress wasn’t your sister. The fiery spirit inside her had left a long time ago together with her beauty and wits. You stared at Alissa, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the sister you once knew and loved. You were unsuccessful. This woman was a stranger and your sister was dead. And you wanted nothing more than to simply move on.

“The nerve this family has,” your father muttered behind you. “Unbelievable.”

You sat the tea cup down on the counter and turned to him. The screaming had stopped, you realized. You had been so lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed how your father came downstairs again.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked.

Your father shook his head and handed you an envelope without another word. Your gaze fell onto the dark green emblem printed on the back and suddenly, your throat felt very, very dry. You’d recognize the sign anywhere. With shaking hands you opened the envelope and pulled out a card.

“Can you believe it?”, your father asked. “They actually have the nerve to invite us to his wedding?”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! Feedback is always appreciated! We’re almost finished with this story, I’m so sad btw.

CHAPTER 25

CMI Masterlist HP Masterlist

The tag list for this story is closed! <3

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter imagines #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy #choose me instead #astrids fics

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : sweeter than candy

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : daryl is good at keeping things buried, but when the thought of words left unsaid do you both realise you have both been thinking the same thing about the other.

— warnings : mentions injuries, mentions of death

“ hi!! OMGG I came across your account and I’m obsessed with your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a Daryl Dixon x Reader following candy coated promises. Where Daryl has developed feelings for reader and following an errand run she gets injured and has to stay in bed. And Daryl find out! If that makes sense! Thank you!!! “

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requests are open ! / requested by anon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A deep desperation of yearning to be useful has led you to forget the risks involved in the interminable list of things that wish to cause you harm and are able to on such an intense scale. Luck had been on your side for so long, the illusion of life’s greatest ally refusing eluding your group for this long has proved itself to be just that — nothing more than an illusion. Once the burning of fear had dulled to nothing more than a dim ache, all you now feel is the one wound that does not run red yet pours into your veins as if it does. Stupidity. You’d volunteered yourself to go on a run with a small group, you’d spent enough time before the barbed wire fences, that you felt yourself becoming trapped.

A deep regret that would follow you even in death would be if any of your group would, too, meet their chapter’s end too soon by an immense error made on your part.

One thing that lays dormant in your mind, yet unable to completely fade is the fear of becoming too settled in safety. Spending too much time wrapped in a blanket of comfort that provides refuge from the grit the outside world revels in only hands you a vulnerability unsuitable for a reality submerged in death that roams freely. You don’t want to forget how to survive, you’ve come too far for that.

Part of that is how you have ended up being put to bedrest.

Your brain is yet to sort through and file the fleeting images that blend together into one disorientating image instead of a folder of what had occurred picture by picture. In one instance the group and yourself had been rummaging through the shelves that still contained some stock and the next, you’re rushing Maggie out of the way and pushing over shelves onto a growing horde of walkers. Though in the next second, your heart fell a thousand feet below as you lost your balance from the liquid coating the floor from where they’d tumbled and smashed to the floor, with the shards of glass forming a bewitching hazard.

“ your ankle still givin’ you trouble? “

The voice pulls you out of your thoughts, your sight settling on Maggie.

“ I don’t know if that hurts more or if these scratches do. “ You complain, your fingers lightly tug at the bandages that cover the fresh wounds that coat both of your palms, you take note of a number of loose fibres from the material.

“ Glass’ll do that to ‘ya. “ She chuckles, slowly moving into the room. She grabs a chair from the metal desk on the side and moves it next to your bed. “ I never got a chance to say thanks. “

“ You don’t have to worry about it. “ you refuse, shaking your head in turn.

“ I feel it’s my fault you’re like this. “

“ If we’re going to blame anyone, let’s blame my eyesight. I should have seen that wet patch. I should have been more careful. “ Frustration that burns bright in your reply as you turn away from her. Perhaps you’d spent too much time concealed from the harsh reality that constantly claws at you all as it takes refuge in a thick coat of a hauntingly isolating fog as it waits to drag you down with it further into the depths.

Mistakes are synonymous with fatalities now, one moment you’re on top of the world and in the next you can be in a free fall clutching the thin air as if it should be your saviour. Never have moments been promised, and this fact has never shone clearer than when the dead claimed the Earth for itself in an effort to void it of life wholly.

“ Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. “ Maggie brings a hand forward to squeeze your shoulder momentarily, a comforting smile packaged with it easing some of the self loathing you could feel weaving itself into your being.

“ I don’t have much to do in here by myself, I have to keep myself entertained somehow. “

“ Well, I got an idea.. “ She trails off, a mischievous grin lifting her lips.

“ Maggie.. “ You utter a strict warning, already knowing where the conversation is about to lead.

She pauses for a second, laughter bouncing from grimy wall to grimy wall as she reacts to your cautionary tone, the light in her eyes bursting with the power of a thousand stars as it illuminates her features. Gratitude for the fleeting moments of rare normalcy that reflects a past occurrence in the old world runs deep, for a fraction of a second you can pretend you’re simply two friends joking about something goofy and foolish. For a minute, you’re not sheltering in a decrepit prison as you run from walkers, it’s a perfectly average afternoon.

“ You can’t tell me you don’t realise the way he looks your way now? I know you’ve been lookin’.. “

“ Okay, I think I'm tired now. “ You huff, shifting your body as to your ability with your injured ankle to face the wall that has an array of stains permanently painted into its surface.

Maggie only laughs in response, the sounds of steps dulling into nothing more than a ghost of an echo that informs you of her departure. Her words have pulled a string you’d not wished to pay attention to until it would be absolutely necessary. Needless to say that as much as you’d tried to bury the budding seeds of affection into the dirt, they’d only bloomed in force into a sea of colour with the evidence left to coat your fingertips for everyone to see.

Never had it been your intention to entertain this idea, when anything positive you’ve managed to seize with both hands can be ripped away so unexpectedly that you are left to nurse the empty space left behind of what once had been, grieving the idea of what could have been. However, there’s a dim curiosity that softly grows in size that envelopes around you, compelling a desire to reacquaint yourself with a human intimacy that fell to the back of the queue as the instinct to survive overwhelmed it. You don’t want to fear living, you don’t want to fear connecting to others on a deeper level, but you can’t help but simply.. be afraid.

Had you been in a different reality where the world continued on as normal, you would have probably fallen under his spell sooner.

Only after that one night you’d spent on watch together after he’d gone out of his way to bring you such a simple gift illuminated him in a way that your sight would often lean towards him. Many times you would find yourself analysing his actions on a deeper level, a coy warmth burying itself in the pit of your stomach when realising he’d included you in his thought process. From the chocolate bar, to you being the first person he’d check on if you needed anything before heading out on a run, to even the simple act of being there just to talk when life felt rough. A shape of one Daryl Dixon had been carved out by the man before either of you had realised.

A thunderous groan erupts from your lips as you turn onto your back to stare at the bunk on top with the realisation hitting you like a train threatening not to stop. You completely adore the Dixon.

About an hour away from the Prison Daryl secures the last of the rabbits caught, they swing side to side with each of his calculated movements. All Daryl finds himself wanting to do is to get back to the Prison, unable to push down the inclination of being back to the comfort the life behind those metal fences bring. It’s been a long day and all he’s interested in is getting back to those he holds dear.

That thought is when a fleeting frame of your face crosses his mind. Though he speaks not of which he truly wishes to share, the time you do spend together is something he cherishes more than a billionaire would with all of the money and rubies in the world if they had them in the palm of their hands. The darker side of him, the side that would always listen to those who preferred to taint his waters with their gloom, doesn’t allow the emotions constantly swirling within him to be touched by the burning sun rays as they are laid bare.

Heavy breaths fall without grace from his chest as he’s let through the gates, the stony expressions etched deeply into Carol’s features. No words need to be uttered to know it’s to do with you, Daryl doesn’t even allow a thought before he’s making his way on a path he has walked a thousand times and will walk a thousand times more. Creaks that echo in the darkening corridors that are not lit by the comforting flames of candles, the prison sounding as if it’s more in pain than it appears — still, he pays no care. His only goal is to check on you, he’d be unable to forgive himself if anything were to happen to you and he’d never be able to see you one last time. His brain conjures a number of horrific scenarios and tainted pictures to accompany them as it runs wild in a sea of dread.

The crossbow that had been secured in Daryl’s grip is lowered gently to the ground as he scans your form, a grateful sigh when he sees the slow movement of breathing.

He lowers himself into the chair next to your bed, trying to pinpoint the moment he’d stopped gazing upon your form as a friend to replace it with an aura of starlight — no longer did he see the colour of your eyes, but galaxies full of life and wonderment. Daryl allows himself a few seconds to chase each other by as he considers his next action, though deep down he’s aware his decision had already been chosen, as he threads his fingertips into yours to allow your warmth to comfort the panic that had been raging at the thought of your demise. His thumb traces a circle that is light enough to keep you tucked away in a slumber and as a comfort technique for him, where his mind allows him the time to placate himself.

Before he’s aware of it, the sky blends into itself once more as the pastel hues paint it with dashes of gold from the sun as dawn breaks and he’s hunched over with your hands still connected as one — the position held the entire night. Nothing can be heard in the confined space except a symphony of soft breathing from you both, the serenity only the early hours in which no one is awake brings comfort to the sleeping forms of you and Daryl.

A lengthy yawn escapes your lips as your eyes fight to open as they blink heavily to adjust to the light that invades as much as it can. The weight of something lying comfortably in your hands confuses you, as you distinctly remember there had been no pressure previously, the image before you washes your entire body with the icy grip of shock as you scan the trail leading from the hand within yours to the person it belongs to. Teeth grip your bottom lip as you bite it, attempting to battle away a smile that wishes to break free, you can’t believe the sense of humour that the universe has. Not an inch is moved by any part of your body, you seek to savour the intensity that such a simple action bears, your eyes positively glowing in adoration as a softer side to the man is revealed. Moments like these are few and far between, it leaves you wanting to bottle it up and pocket it forever.

A squeak of displeasure cuts through the serenity the early hours have worked so hard to cultivate as you inch your injured ankle to the side, clearly different positions prove to be the opposite of beneficial. The noise is enough to wake Daryl, his sudden alertness makes you doubt whether he’d truly been in a deep rest, but it’s the least of your worries as he realises he spent the night with his grip connected to yours. The warmth that brought a grounding comfort to your being now is a phantom touch you crave again once an eerily coolness now surrounds your empty palm.

“ ‘M sorry ‘bout that. “

“ There’s nothing to apologise for, Daryl. It was nice. “ You confess, your volume touches the air with a softness of a feather that descends to below in an elegant waltz.

“ Mhm. “ He turns his gaze to the floor, a thumb is chewed upon lightly as he’s wondering what he should say next. “ ‘Was worried about ‘ya as soon as I got back. “

“ Yeah, things just kinda happened. “

“ ‘Ya gotta watch y’self more out there. “ He scolds you with a light scorch of misplaced anger that almost lays eternally with him, a wave of anxiety at the thought of losing you are twins in a realm of horror he never wants to bear witness to.

“ I know, Daryl. “

Poisonous words full of fire and fury born out of dread of your existence in his life being cut short itch to burn your indifference to the situation. As he settles his gaze upon you, all he can see are the stolen moments you both have shared away from the group, where the person he’d created in his head built without even speaking to had been smashed into shards the more he got to know — you’re a fresh breath of peace in an unstable world that thrives on chaos. Quiet moments where all he can hear are the flickering embers of the fire are the memories he finds himself kicking for, all that lost time to never be recovered due to his preconceived notions.

“ Do ‘ya? “ Daryl shakes his head in frustration, his soul a pot of swirling emotions and thoughts blinding him to the point he can’t see straight. “ I can’t lose ‘ya. “

His voice is so low you barely hear it, your brows thread together in the slightest form as they’re unused to the window of Daryl’s vulnerability being so widely open.

“ You won’t. “ A faint twitch of your lips means well, you try to comfort the man. Your touch is delicate as your palm overlaps his with warmth.

“ Y’can’t promise that. “

“ But I can try! “ You argue lightly, a bounce in your response.

“ Forget it. “ Daryl sighs harshly, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts that run circles around his mind.

“ Daryl! Wait. “ Your voice falls on deaf ears as he’s already halfway towards the exit of the room, for a moment you forget your injury and a burning sensation flies with boundless wings up your protesting muscles and you land in a heap on the floor. The bandages do nothing to cushion your fall, you cry out in pain from the intensity of the throbbing plaguing your body.

“ Why can’t ‘ya be careful!? Damn it. “

Before you know it, Daryl is level with you as you feel his touch grazing your skin — ensuring you’d not injured yourself further. Guilt pools in his stomach at the thought of your current suffering being his fault, his ire now directs itself brightly towards him.

“ Dar — what’s going on? Why are you acting like this? “ You quiz as your expression contorts into a grimace. You’d not seen him behave like this for what feels like a long century, even more so when directed towards you.

“ Like what?! Huh? “

“ You’re being crazy! “ You state, your finger jabs into his chest.

“ Ain’t it obvious? “ Daryl asks suddenly.

Your head shakes, confusion clouds your features as if it’s an angry storm that has waited long enough for the calm — nothing can be seen through the darkened skies. All you want is for the sunny rays of truth to shed light upon this mess.

“ ‘Ya mean more to me than you should. “

“ Daryl? Do.. do you — ? “

He nods suddenly, unable to hear the words out loud no matter how true they ring, because as real as it is. There would be no taking it back then. Your lips purse as a sad smile lifts itself with no help from you, your heart hurting as you realise this could have been avoided entirely since you both appear to be on the same page. You acknowledge the fact that actions would speak louder than words in this scenario, your fingertips brush through darkened strands of hair as if they play a sheet of music with the aging competence of a commanding pianist. This is one of many songs your mind finds itself conjuring, a burning hope of this forging something more between you. It’s not long before your arms are wrapped around his neck, with Daryl unable to believe the scene in which he finds himself in, you’re a sky full of stars that he finds himself wanting to get lost in.

“ We can take this one step at a time, yeah? “ You question softly, not wanting to be witness to the fleeting images of a set of angel wings.

He agrees silently, a warmth spreads outwards from your cheeks and treks outwards to cover your completely. The moment is sweet, as it concludes with a honeyed kiss on his tanned cheek. In one frame you both are thinking the same thing, just how lucky you are to have fought through your fears of living and given in to taking the plunge into unchartered waters that Maggie and Glenn have already found themselves navigating.

In a world full of the dead, you both agree that to love shouldn’t be a reason to cower and hide.

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #twd imagine #daryl fic #twd oneshot #daryl dixon imagine

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muertawrites · 4 years

Text

The Dark of the Moon (Zuko x Reader)

Summary: Late night insomnia turns into a conversation about love, and Zuko makes an interesting discovery about his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2,100

Author’s Note: You can thank Avatar being on Netflix and rekindling my childhood obsession for this one. I wrote this mostly as a dialogue / pacing exercise, but it’s also a bit therapeutic since I can actually relate to Zuko more than I realized or could have ever foreseen watching this show as a ten year old. Enjoy a little emotional romantic fantasy on behalf of a preteen crush and all the toxic friends I’ve ever had. ✌

~ Muerta

Zuko usually slept with you. It started one late night during a mutual bout of insomnia, in which you ran into him as you both wandered the halls of the Western Air Temple. You hardly knew him, but he sat with you and talked about everything that night - anything that wasn’t related to the war or either of your pasts that had been torn apart by it. He surprised you with his dry, even-toned sense of humor, as well as with his intelligence in not only combat but literature and philosophy as well; being a healer and a fortune teller by trade, you found a lot to talk about with him.

As the nights awake became more common, you and Zuko spent more of them together; sometimes you’d wait until you happened upon him in the halls, others one of you would designate a place to meet. Eventually, one of you would go directly to the other’s room and you’d sit, sharing whatever light or heavy thoughts happened to plague your minds. You learned a lot about him in those nights, and grew to feel proud of how far he’d come in such a short time - you often helped others, those much older than yourselves, over months to scale the internal struggles he had, and he’d managed to do so on his own. The more you gave to him, the more he gave back, and it soon became commonplace to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing as he lay in his sleeping bag on the other end of your room.

And that’s exactly what woke you up - the strange, still energy of your bedroom that indicated his resting place was empty. You rolled over, unable to spy his silhouette under the moonlit windowsill, and you rose, your feet carrying you to where you were certain he would be.

It was a gorgeous night, with a gentle breeze ruffling the crisp air. You found Zuko in the courtyard, gazing out over the fog veiled landscape under the swell of the full moon. Without a word, you sat beside him, watching the clouds roll by like ships on a silent ocean. His chest churned in turmoil, so intensely you could feel it in your own.

“Apparently, I can’t sleep without you anymore,” you said. “How selfish of you to have problems that keep you up at night.”

Zuko huffed out a soft chuckle, though the weight in his chest didn’t lift. He leaned back onto his palms, craning his neck backward and allowing the wind to tousle his ash-black hair.

“You didn’t need to come out here,” he told you gently. “It’s not your job to help me fix myself.”

“It never has been,” you replied. “I’ve never fixed anyone. All I ever do is listen and recite a few proverbs; everyone comes to their own conclusions in the end.”

“That’s not true,” Zuko retorted. “I’ve seen you heal. You can do things not even Katara can do, just with whatever happens to be growing nearby. It’s incredible.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“Physical healing and emotional healing are two super different things,” you told him. “Emotional wounds can only really be healed by the people who have them. I mean, unless you want me to crack open your chest and poke around at your heart for a little while.”

Zuko chuckled again, the tenseness of his muscles easing up just slightly. He opened his palm and spawned a softly glowing flame, both of you watching it flicker in the cool night air.

“I wish I’d been born a water bender,” he mused. “Something that would do good for others. All fire does is destroy.”

You were silent for a moment, watching the thoughts swirl, tormented, behind his eyes. You thought of all the times you’d seen him smile, how his happiness made his handsome features all the more radiant and caused your stomach to bubble with joy. The memory shot a spike through your chest.

“... You know, we only ever see one part of the moon,” you commented, breaking the quiet. “Everything behind that - the dark side - we don’t really consider, even though it’s always there and is as much a part of the moon as the side that’s in front of us.”

Zuko smirked at you, distinguishing the flame in his hand.

“Reciting a proverb at me?” he teased.

You grinned.

“This one’s more like a metaphor,” you admitted cheekily. “That tea I make, the one that tastes awful but makes pain completely disappear?”

Zuko nodded.

“I need fire to make it,” you continued. “I have to roast the ingredients over an open flame before boiling them. Without fire, I couldn’t do most of my healing; it would be too painful without the tea to help.”

Zuko said nothing, but you could sense your words sinking into the cracks in his troubled thinking.

“Fire is heat and light,” you added. “It’s just as important to life as water or earth or air. Every element is capable of destruction or creation - there isn’t a single one that’s inherently good or bad. The person that controls them is the only one who determines that.”

There was another long pause, in which you busied yourself noting the different wild plants growing between the stones that paved the courtyard. You listed the different medicines you could make with each, the process calming you.

“I’ve done some pretty shitty things to people I care about in order to embrace my goodness,” Zuko finally spat. The bitterness in his tone stung you. You turned to him, and for a split second you caught a familiar, rageful glimmer in his eye; the sight made your own temper flare.

“Zuko, don’t do that to yourself,” you said. “It wasn’t just your father who hurt you and you know that.”

“I know,” he snapped, cutting off the end of your words. “I still care about her, though. I don’t even know if she really ever cared about me, but I still… I still miss her.”

Your ribs seemed to cave in, crushing your heart and lungs. He’d told you about Mai many times, and all you ever saw was that the darkness in her drew out the darkness in him; it even hung over you, clouding out the comfort you felt with Zuko and replacing it with unease and doubt. You feared there was no place in his heart for you - not while Mai still remained in it, no matter how badly her memory made him bleed.

“It’s hard,” you choked out. “I still miss some of the people who hurt me, too.”

That was all you could manage to say. You pulled your knees to your chest, half-burying your face in the fabric of your night dress as you forced the tears welling in the corners of your eyes not to flow.

This is what you get, you scolded yourself. This is what you get for feeling things for people you know could never feel the same about you.

A sensation of warmth curling around your shoulders made you jolt. Instinctively, you inched away, glancing in Zuko’s direction as he retracted the arm that had draped around you. You expected him to look away, but he didn’t - his pale amber eyes instead locked with yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “You hold your head so high… I forget sometimes that you’re trying to heal, too.”

His words caused your tears to spill, though you didn’t cry; your face remained stony, and no sobs shook you. Your tears fell as easily as water from a cliff’s edge, impeded by nothing but the will of gravity.

“... The cards you lent me,” Zuko said after a pause, almost blurting the words. “I’ve been reading them, to help me let go of everything I left behind. I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

A few weeks ago, you’d given him a deck of cards you used for fortune telling. Each card depicted a different object, element, or scene, and were laid out in combinations that gave insight into a person’s spiritual path. You liked them more than other forms of fortune telling, as it encouraged its readers to make their own assumptions and drive their own fates instead of having it simply told to them. You gave your deck to Zuko so he could reflect on something finite, instead of getting consumed by his own thoughts. It was exactly what you used them for, and you knew they would help.

“Why?” you asked softly.

“I drew a card that didn’t make sense,” he told you. “I laid down the Tides, then the Crossed Blades, and then… I pulled the Badger Mole. The other two I understand - one is for movement and change, the other is for strength in allies, but I… can’t figure out what the Badger Mole is supposed to mean.”

“Badger moles are strong, powerful,” you explained, speaking dispassionately from memory, “but they’re gentle. The card represents the duality of both. They mate for life, too, so it also represents love and companionship.”

As you spoke, you felt a meteor crash between you and Zuko. His face fell, dumbfounded, as he looked at you, his eyes darting minutely back and forth as you watched the pieces mend together in his head.

“What do you feel?” you whispered, part of you terrified of his answer.

“... I feel like I’m fighting the tide,” Zuko replied, his tone awestruck. “It’s pushing me to shore, but I keep trying to swim back out to sea.”

The corners of your lips curled upwards slightly, your cheeks still sticky with tears.

“It’s really scary, huh?” you said. “Loving another person.”

“Yeah... especially when you’ve never known what it feels like before,” Zuko added softly.

You reached out, tentatively resting your palm against his cheek. His hand rose to close over yours, the sensation trembling you to your core.

“How many times have you pulled the Badger Mole?” you asked.

“Every time,” Zuko breathed. “I’m so stupid for not realizing. You make me feel wild and calm all at once. I get this crushing feeling in my chest when I see you or even think of you, and I thought it was just fear or sadness. But… you don’t make me want to lash out like I used to, with my father and Azula and Mai… just the thought of you makes me want to be the best person I can be. Even though I know you already accept me for not being that person.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, somewhat defeatedly, your knees falling away from your chest and crossing in front of you. Your body was heavy, but your head felt light.

“I love you, Zuko,” you murmured. “But I’m afraid.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead fell to rest against yours, his eyes closing as he steadied his erratic breathing.

“If you’re scared, I’ll protect you,” he said quietly. “That’s what I think lovers are supposed to do.”

The word made every organ in your body jump to your throat. Lovers. Your limbs felt weak, but your heart felt strong with Zuko holding you.

Without thinking, you took his face in your hands and kissed him. It wasn’t hard and passionate like you expected, but firm, gentle, his lips pressing to yours like two palms grasped in an assuring embrace. He lay one of his large, able hands on the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking your skin.

When you finally broke apart, Zuko gazed at you with a soft, forlorn expression. His fingers reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry I talk about her so much,” he said. “It must kill you.”

You shook your head, a soft smile forming on your lips, still red from where Zuko had kissed them.

“Don’t worry about it,” you told him. “I know some people from my past you’d happily drive a knife into.”

Zuko chuckled, the light, airy smile you saw when he was truly happy spreading to each of his cheeks. The spike that drove itself through your heart when you thought of it earlier was gone, replaced by the sweet warmth of a low flame on a cold night. With him, you were safe.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Zuko suggested, taking your arm to help you stand.

His hand slipped easily into yours, your fingers twining together. He leaned forward and kissed you again, his lips only grazing yours, causing your skin to buzz with the sensation.

“... Do you think we’ll have to talk to Aang about this?” you asked as you walked back to your room.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at you, confused.

“He is your great-grandfather,” you elaborated with jest. “I should probably do the chivalrous thing and ask for his blessing or something.”

Zuko laughed, nudging you with his shoulder so that you stumbled over your feet. You shoved him back, to which he took you by the waist and wrapped you tightly in his arms, kissing your cheek.

“He probably won’t care,” he replied. “But my uncle will love you.”

#muerta's works #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko fanfic #prince zuko fanfic #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #lmao when you don't know how to end a fic

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deanstead · 3 years

Text

Glad You’re Safe

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Paramedic!Reader

Request by anon: Hi there! I was wondering if you could do a Jay Halstead imagine during the ‘Infection’ episode. The reader is exposed to the virus, the tests shows negative but they still keep her in quarantine. Been into Worried!Jay tics lately haha! And can the reader be either part of Intelligence or Ambo 61. Thanks hun xx

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury, (some) anxiety

A/N: Based off of the Infection three-part crossover. Sorry, this took a while! I didn’t want to turn this into an episode rewrite so I just picked certain parts that I felt could fit in with the whole theme of the imagine/oneshot. I hope this turned out okay and that you like it!

---

Ambo 61, Man down, unknown causes

The announcement rang through the firehouse. You looked at Sylvie as the two of you stood at the same time, jogging towards the ambulance and sliding in quickly before Sylvie sped off.

“This is crazy.” You commented. The whole firehouse had spent the day in the common room, the news reports flashing every few seconds. To say it didn’t freak you out was definitely a lie.

Sylvie gave you a tight smile. “We’ll get through this. Like we always do.” You could hear the strain in her voice but you didn’t say more, as she pulled up at the address.

Grabbing your kits, the both of you jogged up the stairs, Sylvie knocking on the door immediately. “Fire Department!”

The door swung open and the both of you stepped in, looking around. “Anyone call for Paramedics?”

You swung your head around again as you heard a groan. “Brett.” You pointed deeper into the apartment, heading in ahead of Sylvie.

“Sir? Are you okay?” You asked, as the man in front of you swayed a little on his feet. He didn’t look like he even registered the fact that you were there.

“Sir?” You tried again, stepping forward before he fell forwards onto you, the both of you crumpling towards the ground.

“Y/L/N!” Sylvie rushed towards you, pulling him off you. Sylvie froze momentarily at the sight in front of her. You had blood smeared all over your front, including your hands. You swallowed, looking back at the man who was no longer conscious.

“Come on, Brett. I’m fine.” You reassured her, clambering up and pulling his now blood-stained shirt upwards to reveal the rotting skin and tissue below. You exchanged a look with Sylvie before quickly covering the open wound as best as you could.

“Come on, let’s go.” You urged, as the both of you fastened him onto the stair chair, down the stairs and into the ambulance.

---

After you had been checked out, very thoroughly you might add, you had been brought down to this area, where there were at least already 30 people in individual tents.

Yeap, quarantine.

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay?” Jay’s voice made you look up.

He looped around the tents, moving closer to your tent.

“Jay? What are you doing here?” You asked, getting up.

“What happened?” Jay asked, not answering you, and you could already hear the stress in his voice.

“Jay, it’s okay, I’m fine.” You reassured. “The first test came back clean. They’re just keeping me here for a while more to be safe. They’ll do a second run later just to be sure.”

Jay didn’t answer but quietly put his hand up against the transparent plastic sheet of the quarantine tent. You smiled and put yours up against his, only the plastic sheet separating your palms. “You go do what you have to do. I’ll be fine.”

Jay hesitated. “Go.” You repeated, smiling at him for good measure.

“Jay.” You called out again before he left.

He raised his eyebrow in that adorable way he does.

“Stay safe out there.” You whispered.

Jay sighed, smiling back at you. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

You smiled back at him as you watched him duck out.

---

Jay ground his teeth as he stood on the empty street where the parade was supposed to be taking place, alongside Chief Boden, Severide, Casey and Voight.

This prick had put the whole Chicago at risk but he had put you at risk and even hurt Will. He’d be more than happy to pound this prick’s ass into the ground.

“If he’s buying time, it means we still have time to get ahead of him.” Voight told Boden just as their radio crackled.

“Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambo 61, structure fire. Reports of looting, 1300 Hazel Avenue.”

Boden and Voight exchanged a look before shaking hands.

Casey patted Jay on the shoulder. “Hey, the test came back negative. We just heard back. Thought you might like to know. She’ll be back with us soon.”

Jay let out a breath. “Thanks, Casey.”

---

The minutes ticked by with you sitting there doing nothing, while your whole family at 51 was probably running ragged around the city with calls, and Jay was out there trying to catch the culprit as well.

You? You were just sitting here.

You looked up when you heard footsteps. “Hey Y/N.”

“Natalie.” You greeted, getting to your feet.

Natalie smiled, “Good news. We ran your cultures again, just to be safe and they came back free of infection.”

“Thanks Natalie.” You nodded to her. “I’ll head back to the firehouse.”

Natalie smiled as you hurtled out of there, glad to be out and ready to get back into the field.

You jogged into the firehouse, smiling as you saw Herrmann get out of the truck. “Hey!” Herrmann called as he spotted you, moving forward to give you a tight hug.

“Welcome back!”

“Everything okay?” Joe asked as he walked towards you. You could see the weariness on everyone’s faces.

You nodded, “All clear.”

Joe sighed, jamming his hands into his pocket. “Good. Now all I want is a nice long bath and a vat of Purell.”

As if on cue, the announcement beeped in.

Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, evacuation assistance, 2600 Roosevelt.

Joe’s face fell as Sylvie came running out. “We just heard from CPD. This is them – they think that Dr Seldon’s hitting the BRT building from the west side.” She paused as she reached you. “Ready, partner?”

You nodded, glad to finally feel useful. “Born ready.”

You followed her towards the ambulance as you heard Herrmann shout to the rest, “Alright, you heard her! Let’s move! This is it! Let’s end this!”

Sylvie stepped on the accelerator, hurtling towards the address but glanced at you. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She said.

You chuckled, “Tell me about it.” You paused, “I haven’t even had the chance to tell Jay yet.”

Sylvie glanced at you, a smile playing on her lips. “What, that the moment you were released from quarantine, you’re right back on the field?”

“Guilty.”

The both of you smiled as Sylvie pulled up to the address and you guys hopped out. The place was already swarming with trucks and patrol cars as you spotted Voight and Will stop not too far from where you were standing.

“My brother’s in there?” You heard Will’s voice rise as Voight nodded and your heart dropped.

Jay.

You bit your lip and took a deep breath as Sylvie tapped you on the shoulder. “Come on.”

Figuring that it’d be better to keep yourself busy with what you had to do, rather than stand around worrying about Jay, you nodded. “Just give me a moment, I’ll be right back.”

You ran to catch up with Will. “Will.”

Will spun around, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Don’t worry.” He whispered, squeezing my shoulder before following after Voight closely. “I’ll be back with him.”

You swallowed, watching Will’s retreating back for a second more before turning and heading back to where you were needed.

You busied yourself with seeing to anyone who was injured from the evacuation - a few sprained ankles or bruises but nothing too serious. In a way, you were glad to be busy.

Then you heard it – a gunshot from the other side of the building. Your head snapped up as you heard more popping sounds from the building itself. You forced yourself to look away, moving among the crowd again to busy yourself until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’re good here. Go on.” Sylvie said.

You looked back at your PIC.

Sylvie nodded encouragingly. You looked over at Chief Boden who nodded back to you.

“Thanks.” You muttered, heading towards the entrance of the building. You were sure everyone around you could probably hear your heart pounding in your chest.

It felt like forever before the door swung open and you spotted them – Voight, Will and… Jay.

A wave of relief washed over you as you watched him walk out of that building, looking like he had a few hours ago, except with a little frown across his face. That is, until he saw you.

“Y/N.” He breathed, jogging towards you and sweeping you into his arms.

His hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you into him. You kept silent but closed your eyes, just glad to be back in Jay’s arms. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Jay smiled, “Yeah, I’m okay.” He nodded, as your eyes flicked to the gash on his arm and you glared at him.

“Sarge.” He called as Voight nodded at him, motioning for him to go with you.

You growled a little as you tugged him back towards the ambulance. “No chances, okay?” You said, as Jay laughed, shaking his head a little at your insistence but following you anyway.

“It’s not even a…” He stopped midsentence as you glared at him, falling to silence and perching himself at the open back of the ambulance.

“Are you really gonna argue with me about this after the day we have both had?”

Jay smiled, raising his hands in mock defeat, as you poured saline over the open gash and put a plaster over it.

Quietly, Jay raised his hand, cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He whispered.

Your eyes flicked up to him, the whole world melting into the background, as if there was only you and Jay in this space and time. You sighed, “Right back at you. I was worried.”

“Not as worried as I was.” Jay shot back.

His eyes lingered on you for a while longer before he gently tugged you towards him again. You let yourself be pulled back into his embrace, just glad that everything was over.

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Both of You

Tony x Reader based on this request!

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word Count: 1803

a/n: This one makes me feel warm inside. We're just pretending Pepper does not exist because any mention of killing her off is too sad for me to deal with right now. Tony deserves happiness. Featuring The Best Day by Taylor Swift.

Also, I'm currently working on a Reid request, two Steve fics, and an idea I had for Bucky, but somehow this one was the one that got me motivated.

Masterlist

You were relaxing, aka being forced to recover from a gunshot wound before going on any more missions, on the couch in the living room for the third night in a row. To say you were absolutely bored would be underselling it.

You spent the past few days alone roaming the compound because everyone else was out on missions. Typically this would mean hanging out with Morgan, but Happy's been monopolizing her time.

You were just about to start another movie when your phone started ringing.

"Where are you?" The voice was desperate.

"Nice to hear from you Happy. How are you, today?" You sassed him back.

"Y/N, I'm serious." His tone put you on high alert.

"I'm in the main living room, what happened?" You sat up from the couch, ready to come to him at a moments notice.

"I'm in the elevator, I'll explain in a minute." He hung up before you could ask any follow up questions.

You were up and standing at the elevator in no time, anxiously awaiting Happy's arrival.

After what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the elevator carrying a sleeping Morgan in his arms. He walked past you to set her on the couch before explaining.

"May had a bit of an emergency, I need to go pick her up. She's fine, just a little shaken up. Can you watch Morgan?" You could see the lingering fear in his eyes.

"Of course. Please, let me know if there's anything else I can do!" You spoke in a fast whisper, getting the words out quickly but quietly to account for Happy already boarding the elevator and Morgan still asleep in the living room.

"I'll call you if anything else happens."

And with that he was gone.

You made your way back into the living room while trying to decide if you should bring Morgan back up to her bed. She would sleep better there, but you might wake her up on the way.

You were just about to pick her up when she let out a strangled sob.

"Morgan?" She still appeared to be asleep, but her face showed fear. "Morgan, honey, wake up."

You spoke gently while running a hand soothingly through her hair. Despite your best efforts, she woke with a start. Her little fingers balled into fists, tears pooling in her eyes before you could say anything.

"Morgan, it's okay! You're okay. I'm here." You gathered her in your arms to rock her back and forth. "You're okay. Everything's okay."

You continued rocking her back and forth while whispering words of affirmation until her crying stopped.

"I- I want my- my dad." She hiccuped.

"Oh sweetheart, he's not home right now." It broke your heart to disappoint her. "Do you wanna tell me when you dreamed about?"

She nodded slowly, but clung to your arms.

"I had a bad dream." You could tell she was till scared. "There was a monster and he took Peter away!" She was getting worked up again.

"Peter's fine, baby. Do you want me to call him?" You spoke softly while reaching into your pocket for your phone.

She nodded solemnly. "With video, please."

"Of course, honey."

It didn't take long for you to facetime Peter. You could only hope that he would answer on the first try. While it rung, you angled the phone against a candle on the table to include you and Morgan in the frame.

"Hi Ms. Y/N- oh! Hi Morgan!" Peter's cheerful voice rung through the living room.

"Hi Pete!" Morgan's voice matched Peter's cheerfulness, but you could still tell she was shaken up.

"See, baby. Peter's okay." You gently prodded her mind to accept that the dream was just that, a dream.

"Petey, I'm so glad you're okay! I was so scared." She ignored your comment, but you could tell the call was helping her.

"Oh Morgan, did you have another nightmare? I'm sorry! You can always call me whenever you need to. I promise." He did well to cheer up the young girl.

You sat back against the couch, just listening to Morgan and Peter conversing for the next hour or so.

"Alright, I think we've got to try to go back to bed now. Say goodbye to Peter."

Morgan pouted, but didn't put up much of a fight.

"Bye Petey! I love you!" She called happily, the nightmare all but forgotten.

"Bye Morgan, I love you too. Bye, Ms. Y/N!" Peter called out.

"Bye, Peter." You smiled as you hung up the phone. "Let's get you up to bed."

"Nooo!" She whined. "Can I just lay down here with you?"

You knew you were a goner the minute she started pouting. With a sigh, you easily gave in to her demands. "Yes, but you still have to sleep."

"Yay! Can you sing to me?" She laid down on the couch, putting her head in your lap.

"Sure, sweetheart. What song?" You began running your hand over her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"The one about being 5 and having a good day!"

You let out a small chuckle at her description, but you knew the song she meant.

"I'm five years old, it's getting cold. I've got my big coat on. I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, and run and run."

As soon as you started singing, she closed her eyes and stopped moving around. You didn't really believe her, but she's always said your voice makes her feel calm inside.

"Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides, look now, the sky is gold. I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home."

You were so intently focused on Morgan, that you didn't hear the elevator doors opening and closing just down the hall.

*In the elevator*

"Someone's singing?" Steve phrased it as a question, but he knew he could hear it as the elevator moved up a few floors.

"Who?" Tony, although uninterested, asked.

"I hear it too!" Bucky chimed in, feeling weirdly at peace just from hearing the melody.

Everyone else in the elevator strained their ears to hear the voice, but came up empty until the elevator doors opened.

Slowly, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Nat, Sam, and Wanda piled out of the elevator.

"I don't know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you're not scared of anything at all."

"Y/N..." Tony whispered, so as not to disturb you.

"Why would she be singing?" Wanda questioned. You always refuse to sing karaoke with them, so it doesn't make sense to her that you would be singing to yourself in the middle of the compound.

Suddenly, a much younger voice joined in on the song.

"Don't know if Snow White's house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today."

"Hey, missy. You promised me you'd try to sleep. That means no singing, just listening." Tony felt his smile grow as you playfully scolded his daughter.

"Sorry! Sorry, I'll be quiet." Morgan promised.

The group of Avengers listened as you began singing again. They slowly made their way toward the living room, moving silently so you wouldn't hear them and stop singing.

"There is a video I found from back when I was three. You set up a paint set in the kitchen and you're talking to me."

Tony was just far enough past the doorway to peak over the edge of the couch. The sight of Morgan curled up in your lap made his heart flutter.

"It's the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarfs. And Daddy's smart and you're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world."

The entire group of Earth's mightiest heroes wore matching expressions of complete and utter adoration watching you sing to Morgan.

Tony silently gestured for the rest of the group to leave, ultimately staring them down until they did so. He watched as you sang the rest of the song, stroking her hair until she fell into a restful sleep.

"I didn't know if you knew, so I'm taking this chance to say: that I had the best day with you today."

You hummed a bit to ensure Morgan was asleep before you stopped singing entirely.

Tony realized you were going to pick her up, so he softly cleared his throat to gain your attention as he walked around the couch.

The soft smile on his face warmed your heart.

"Hi Tony." You greeted him as he picked up his daughter. "She'll be glad you're home." You decided to leave out the heartbreaking detail of her tears and broken cries for her father.

"Where's Happy?" He questioned lightly.

"C'mon, I'll tell you on the way." You grabbed Morgan's stuffed Iron Man from the couch and started toward the elevator.

"Happy had to go pick up May. He said she was fine, but it was some sort of emergency." You spoke quietly so as not to disturb Morgan.

"Thank you for watching her." Tony couldn't hide the smile that grew on his face at the thought of you and Morgan being so close. "Even if you kept her up way past her bedtime." He added playfully.

"She was actually asleep when Happy brought her down. He was probably going to take her with him if he couldn't find me." You felt yourself start to smile just from looking at Morgan in Tony's arms.

"What happened?" Your smile fell at the memory of Morgan's tear stained face.

"She had a nightmare. Something about a monster hurting Peter." You couldn't stop your eyes from welling up at the memory of how scared and upset Morgan was. "She's okay now though. We talked to Peter for a while on facetime. Well, Morgan talked to Peter. I just rocked her back and forth so she'd stop crying."

"My poor baby." He pressed a kiss to Morgan's forehead, lingering close to her. "Thank you for helping her with that."

"Of course, Tony. She's a brilliant little girl. You're doing a great job raising her."

You let out a small chuckle when you suddenly realized neither of you pushed the button for the residential floor.

Tony laughed as well when you leaned forward to push the button.

You walked with him to Morgan's room, helping to tuck her and her stuffed toy into bed. Just as you gently closed the door, Tony cleared his throat again.

"Y/N, I really mean it. Thank you for being there for her. It means a lot to me." Tony's face show a rare vulnerable side as he spoke. "You mean a lot to me."

"Oh, Tony. You mean a lot to me too." You glanced back at Morgan's bedroom. "Both of you."

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #morgan stark x reader #morgan stark x you #morgan stark x y/n #morgan stark fic #tony stark fic

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milstrim · 3 years

Text

Home Is in My Arms

Tony Stark had had a daughter.

Her name had been Penelope.

She had had superpowers.

And he hadn't seen her in four years.

The ten year-old had last been seen on March thirty-first, 2012. The day of the Chitauri invasion. Tony had seen her that morning, and he guessed he could at least be grateful that their last interaction hadn't been like his own with his parents. Instead of a fight that was never resolved, the two had giggled on the couch of the newly furnished tower, him and Pepper with glasses of wine and Penny with her mint milkshake. Pepper had side-eyed them exasperatedly, as though their laughs and jokes had been the worst ruckus anyone had ever made.

And then Coulson. And then Steve. And then Natasha and Bruce and a God he had learned about in history when he was younger. And then Loki and the Helicarrier and explosions that had left Tony's head ringing--but nothing had hurt more than the loss of his friend.

Everything had gone by so quickly, so desperately, there had been no time to do anything about anything except gear up and go. The biggest reassurance he had given himself was that his homework had caused Pepper and Penny to leave the city for a couple of days while the girl was on Spring Break. It meant they were safe from everything was about to happen, and that he didn't have to worry past New York.

And they had won. The Avengers had been formed under desperate circumstances. They had saved the world.

And Penny had been gone.

Pepper had left on the plane, but Penny had managed to convince her godmother that she should stay at her friend's house for a sleepover. The aliens hadn't even been able to make it past the perimeter and into Queens, but the hectic of it had been enough. Or maybe she had run off to help. Even at ten she was braver than he was. Better. And equipped with superpowers from a field trip's rogue spider that made her stronger than even Captain America.

But it hadn't been enough.

No body was ever recovered. No trace of her was ever found. No footage or DNA or witnesses. There was nothing. Nothing for him to even try and grasp onto what had happened to her. How she had died. The best anyone could do was assume that a Chitauri weapon had vaporized her and to try to grieve from there.

And by God did he try.

After the Mandarin and almost losing Pepper, he'd put in more effort than he ever had. He visited the grave where no body was buried, leaving flowers and trinkets and books he knew she would have loved. He talked. To people who had known her like he had. Pepper and Rhodey and Happy and even Natasha.

The two had been so close when the woman had spied on him. Closer than he had been, still trying to change and learn to be a father better than his own after Afghanistan. He'd been dying and hadn't focused on anything but himself. About what he wanted to do before he was gone, instead of what would happen to his family afterwards.

So Tony tried. He tried a lot, but trying didn't always end in success. No, sometimes it ended in helicarriers made for HYDRA to control. Or a robot meant to protect only trying to destroy. Or in the fracturing of the Avengers, with Natasha and Steve on the run while the others sat in a max security prison that he spent every living moment trying to get them out of.

Except for now. Or maybe now too. Tony didn't know why Natasha had texted him. Only that she had betrayed him and texted only a couple of weeks later with a location out in Birmingham, England and nothing else but the message 'Get here quick.'

And he had. With nothing but a quick word to Pepper to keep Ross off of his aching back for a day, he'd stepped onto his plane and arrived in just over six hours. From there the billionaire had stepped into a waiting car and zoomed towards the address the spy had sent him, his heart racing just as fast as the vehicle's as he curved through city traffic.

Tony's thoughts strayed to Steve and Barnes and what had happened the last time he'd zoomed off to help his teammate. He swallowed down on his stuttering fear, reassured partly by the guantlet-watch sat snugly on his wrist and partly because he knew Natasha. Well, he knew her better than he ever had Steve anyway. Him and Natasha had fought, and there'd always been room for disagreements and anger, but at the end of the day they knew each other. And they were family.

The mechanic pulled up outside the run-down apartment complex, giving it a onceover before parking, pulling a baseball cap on low, and stepping out.

There was a drizzle, light and cold for the summer, even in England. He frowned, but only pulled his hood up with a shiver and stepped through the rusted metal gate, allowing him access to the first floor of apartments and a set of spindly stairs that he hoped didn't lead to any kind of locked door. He didn't exactly have a key, and Tony would prefer to not draw any attention to himself while here.

The man didn't need anymore grief from Ross. Not while he was desperate to pin something on Tony, and meeting with a violator of the Accords wouldn't exactly do much for his public image.

Biting on a sigh, Tony headed up the stairs towards the apartment number that Natasha had sent him. Thankfully, there was no locked door in his way, and the only person in the hallway that the stairs had led him to seemed to be much too out of it to pay him any mind. Quicker than he really would have liked, Tony was outside Apartment 9B, the number rusted and close to falling off of its hinges. Sucking in a breath, he knocked.

It only took a few seconds for the door to click! and then crack open just enough for him to catch familiar blue eyes and cropped platinum hair interrupted by a second lock's chain.

Natasha let out a short breath of relief, unlocking the door fully and opening the door just enough that he could slip inside. He glanced around the apartment once as she locked the door back up, surprised to see it was basically exactly what he had expected. It was small and old, orderly but not quite well-kempt, with evidence of past fights staining and fracturing the walls.

"Nice place," he commented. "Very runaway."

"Very last minute," Natasha responded. "It's not as easy as you think it is to get an apartment when everyone's trying to arrest you."

"You seem to slip away no matter what. By the way, how did you get away from Ross last week? I've got to know your trick on that, because I could use some pointers."

Natasha stopped beside him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite his forcefully loose and nonchalant posture, Tony felt himself freeze up looking at the Avenger. Her expression, no matter what it was, had always been hard for Tony to discern when she was practically the perfect spy. But now, this smile--it was sad and joyful and regretfully guilty.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice dropping to something softer. Rarely sincere.

Natasha glanced away from him to stare at a door for a moment before glancing back at him. Her lips twitched and her eyes threatened tears in a way that he hadn't thought she would express to him.

She swallowed. "Penny's alive. And I found her."

Tony--

Tony didn't react. Not for nearly a minute. Instead he stared, his entire body stilling--even his damaged heart--before he seemed to come back to life all at once like a broken wound-up toy.

The man stumbled back a step, falling into the nearest gray wall. One lonely breath coming in in a strangled gasp as he willed for something--anything--to make sense.

"She's alive?"

Natasha nodded.

"How?" he demanded. "How--in England? From New York? There's no way anybody could've just taken her while I was--"

The man cut himself off, dragging in another wheeze that rattled through his entire chest. His legs began to collapse under him, but his friend caught him, managing to maneuver him onto the floor slowly. Tony leaned against the wall as Natasha sat beside him, her head propped up against the wall beside him.

Neither said anything. Not for a few minutes at least at Tony's shaking and gasping ebbed. Not until he could force out images and nightmares of Penny his mind had tortured him with for years. He locked them in a box and dropped it in an ocean of useless thoughts, because his daughter was alive. Because she wasn't dead and none of it--a painful death full of fear and confusion while Tony was only blocks away that he had been tortured by for years--had ever happened.

Natasha spoke up when he'd finally managed to take in eight consistent breaths.

"I was raised in the Red Room," she started. "I was taken from my family and tortured for years. I tried to make a family there, and I did. For a little bit at least. But that family was taken too, replaced by the only world I had ever known. One based on pain and dictated structure. A cruel trick to play on a child, but it was normal for the Red Room. What wasn't normal was me not only succeeding more than they had ever dreamed, but succeeding past them. Escaping and deserting. Killing Dreykov was the last step of my defection to SHIELD. It was revenge and justice all at once. The others would be freed and I could clear out my ledger in a life I chose."

She swallowed, taking a moment.

"I failed. I failed and I didn't know." Natasha turned from staring ahead at the wall to stare at Tony. Suffering blue met broken brown, tired and guilty reflecting. In a whisper, she said, "Dreykov lived. He lived until a week ago. And the Red Room, and every Widow in it, lived under him."

Tony was touched to be trusted this much. To be trusted with even a sliver of what his friend had gone through in such a time of suspicion and betrayal. But he was scared. He was terrified, because Natasha never shared just to share. Everything she said had a point, a reason, a direction.

He tore his eyes away, shoving a hand over them and letting his head drop onto his knees. Unwillingly, he croaked, "No... Nat, please don't tell me--"

"Penny's a Widow."

Tony bit his lip, chewing on his cheek so harshly there was the tang of blood in his mouth. He took a moment, letting his head fall against the cracked and stained cement wall. Penny was alive. And she had been trained--no. Natasha's descriptions, however few and miniscule they had been, could not be described as simply training. Penny had been tortured. For four years. And what had he done but grieve and give up? If only he'd known. If only he'd found out sooner.

Natasha continued.

"The Red Room..." She took a breath and licked her lips. "After I escaped, they changed their whole system. Their method. How they hid and how they trained and--and how they controlled the women."

Something about the way Natasha said the last part sent a cold feeling down his throat.

"What did they do to her?" he croaked.

"They um...well, for lack of my understanding of it, they mind controlled her."

"They--Nat what? How would they even--"

"They controlled the brain’s neuropathways through external manipulation," came a new voice, their accent thick. Tony whipped his head around to stare at a woman he had never seen before. Like Natasha, she wore a regular hoodie and sweatpants but still looked as though she could take his life in less than a minute. There was an intensity about her, from her stance to her tied back hair to her ghostly blue eyes that stared at him suspiciously. "It was based off of blueprints for the Winter Soldier. Me and Natasha were part of the mission to retrieve them when we were young."

Despite the insanity of every new piece of information shot his way, he managed to piece it together in his head quickly enough that he opened his mouth to respond with a snapped remark, but Natasha managed to speak before he did.

"What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be looking after Penny."

"I was, but then I heard how badly you were explaining everything and I came to help." Natasha glared. "Relax. I finished braiding her hair and now she's pretending to be asleep so she can listen to everyone talking."

The last part was said with a pointed look down the narrow apartment hall, but everything after Natasha had said "Penny" didn't seem to make sense anymore.

"She's here?" he asked, already scrambling to his feet. He glanced between Natasha and the woman desperately. "Penny's here right now?"

"We found her yesterday," Natasha answered cautiously. "Me and Yelena just started to free the Widows deployed around the world. We managed to give her the antidote during a shootout in Estonia. After that a friend of mine managed to get us here."

"A shoot--is she okay?"

"Just a couple of burns," Yelena said. "She may be enhanced, but she still has plenty to learn. She could still kick your ass, though."

"Thank you. Truly," Tony said, a bite of sarcasm to his voice, before turning back to Natasha, his desperation bubbling. "Which room?"

"Tony, I don't think you need to just go bursting in there. Let me--"

Tony stopped listening, every word his friend was saying dying out on his ears as he spotted a brunette and wide brown eyes poking around the corner over Natasha's shoulder. He felt his breath catch in his throat as their eyes clicked.

Penny had grown. She'd sprouted almost an entire foot from the short ten year old she had been, awkward and gangly limbs that the girl had always seemed to struggle with were replaced by obvious muscle and carefully controlled movement as she stepped out from behind the wall, their stare still holding. Despite the sharper angle of her chin and jaw, she still held baby fat in her cheeks that dwindled the look of her down by a couple of years, not helped at all by the familiar roundness of her deeply brown eyes.

He swallowed. His voice broke.

"Penny?"

—-

“Penny?"

It had been years since Penny had seen her dad. Since she'd heard him. Anything about her father not privy to missions had been carefully shielded away from the teenager for years. Sometimes on the few missions she had been sent on she would catch news clippings and pictures on TV channels before she had to move on or that terrible voice in her mind would force her to ignore him. But, despite the scarcity of which she was allowed to know about her father, she had always thought about him.

Penny had swam in her memories whenever she could. Whenever she needed. She'd think about the games she and her dad had used to play. About lessons he'd taught her and days they'd spent together. About hugs and braided hair and kisses to her head. The memories had felt faint and washed away underneath everything, but she'd clung to them like a lifeline.

That being said, she hadn't expected Dad's voice to sound like that. For him to look like this. He was always so put together in her mind--so strong--even when he was messy from the lab or tired from a long day of work, always accompanied by fond child-like adoration. But now he didn't look it.

There were bruises on his face, faint but still noticeably purple. His hair wasn't as dark or thick as she remembered, growing back just a little higher on his hairline, and more lines grabbed and pulled at his face. But that wasn't what ruined her memory of strength and warmth, people aged after all, that was just reality. It was the expression on his face and glossing over his eyes. It was the way he'd said her name, so unsure and weary.

Penny, finally, looked away from Dad, instead glancing over at Yelena and trying not to look like she was too desperate for help. Yelena stared back, raising her brows and gesturing to Tony with a slight nod of her head, as if telling her to not be a coward. But Penny didn't know how to do that. Not now.

Thankfully, Natasha took over.

"I'm going to go get us some dinner. Yelena?"

Okay, so not the kind of help she'd been looking for.

Yelena gave Penny one last glance, nodded, and then followed the Avenger out of the door.

The door clicked shut and then it was just father and daughter.

"Penny," he tried again.

She hid a flinch at how small and tired his voice was, how broken he felt standing only feet from her. She hid her shock and her fear and apprehension exactly how she'd been taught, schooling her features into something easy and bored. She let her shoulders drop and her posture loosen, but the hardest part was hardening her stare. That had always been the biggest complaint of her handlers. Her senses had been sharp but her expression always so readable by her eyes.

"Hi, Dad," she said, her voice cool and casual on default. The words felt terrible leaving her lips, so she crossed her arms in an attempt to feel more stable. "It's been a while."

He chuckled, short and sad. "Yeah. You could say that."

And then there was silence. It trickled in, slow, awkward, and tense between them. Penny tried not to let it get to her, but she couldn't deny that she wasn't tired and disappointed. When Yelena had smashed the antidote beside her, it was the first time the teenager had seen clearly in a long time, and her first thought had been of her Dad. There had been worries about if he missed her and if he'd been okay, but a fear had stabbed at her so strongly that she was still thinking about it.

Would he still love her? After all she'd done? She had hurt people. She had killed people. Not in defense. Not in good reason. But in fear and control.

"I, uh..." Penny blinked at her dad's voice, beating away her thoughts and instead focusing back on the bruised and stuttering man in front of her. "Sorry. I would've thought of something better to say if I'd known I was going to see you again. Maybe some presents too. Do you still like those peanut butter cookies?"

"The ones we used to make?" she asked. "With the Hershey Kisses?"

"Those are the ones."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't had them since I was with you."

"Oh. Yeah. I guess you wouldn't have..." he trailed off, glancing down for a moment. She stared at him, watching his expression carefully as he loosened and looked back up at her. "Well, we can't make them again? At home?"

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Penny couldn't stand how dull her voice sounds, like she couldn't care less about something that really made her want to cry in happiness. But...she didn't know what else to do. What to say. The Red Room had made sure she always knew what to do and what to say, but that had been for politicians and businessmen and people she was supposed to trick. She didn't want to trick her dad. She just--she wanted to--

Dad stepped closer, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down in a deep and concerned frown. She kept a wary eye on him as he approached, trying to force down feelings of apprehension and fear that she had become familiar with whenever anybody was in her space. But he stopped about a foot short, his reached out hand halting just away from her face as he whispered, "Oh, piccolina. It's okay." His voice broke. "It's okay. I'm gonna make sure it is... I promise."

And finally she broke.

And it hurt. It really, really hurt.

Penny leaned her cheek into his open hand as hot beads of tears caught on her eyelashes, allowing for Dad to cup his other hand around the back of her head and tentatively pull her in. It took the teenager a moment to adjust, so wired on the need to fight and never let her guard down, but then she just--crumpled.

Like a switch had been flicked, Penny buried her nose into his neck and wrapped her arms around him in a tight squeeze, swallowing down tears. Dad pulled her in tighter, his nose pressed into her tightly braided crown.

And then he sobbed.

It was a strangled, inhuman kind of sound that rumbled from his chest to escape the back of his throat. He cleared his throat, as if embarrassed, but Penny wasn't an idiot. She could still hear his heart thumping and feel a tear slip from his chin onto the back of her neck. It all shocked her, but the sound found itself ringing in her ears painfully more than anything.

She flinched in his hug.

"Oh, Penny. I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice sore with tears. "So, so sorry."

"For what?" she asked. "Not finding me? You wouldn't have been able to, Dad, even being you. Draykov made sure of it."

"I don't care. I should've done something! I should've--I should've--"

"Dad." He fell silent as she pulled away from him, crossing her arms back over her chest as she came back to her training. Dad stared at her, his dark copper eyes as guilty as she felt. "Please, just... Don't be sorry. Because I'm sorry, and if you're sorry then we're both sorry and we can't both be sorry it's--"

"What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Penny--"

"I'm not ten anymore, Dad. I don't think I'm even a kid anymore... I've--I've done too much harm. I have a lot to be sorry for."

Dad stared at her, a familiar sadness in his eyes. He chewed his cheek, brows furrowed in thought, and she was brought back to a time when she would watch him solve problems in the lab, or try to answer one of her inane questions that she never seemed to be able to stop asking.

"Let me ask you something," he started. "Do you think I'm a bad person? That I'm at fault for losing you?"

"No," she answered immediately, because her dad had always tried, no matter what. She'd known he wasn't perfect, and that a lot of people hated him for the mistakes he'd made, but she'd always known how much he really cared. How much he really cared and tried for the world. For the Avengers. For her.

"Well, then what makes you a bad person? What makes you not a kid anymore?"

Penny could only stare. She could only answer, "I've hurt people."

"I know. And I have too. But you don't think I'm a bad person, so you're not a bad person either. And what about Nat? Or your new very scary friend?"

"I forgot how much I hated arguing with you," she deadpanned.

"'Trying' to argue with me," he corrected, a smile pulling at his face. Surprisingly, she managed to smile back. Even more surprisingly, it didn't feel fake. Sure, it was small and tired, but Penny couldn't remember the last time she'd actually smiled. "See? Everything's going to be okay."

"How do you know?" she asked. "I'm a violator of the Accords. If it ever gets out that I was part of the Red Room--what I did for the Red Room--almost nothing could keep me out of prison. You'll have to explain how you found me and it would make you a violator--"

"I'll handle it," Dad said. "I always handle it. And just because you don't feel like a kid doesn't mean you aren't one. There are protections for you. And we found protections for Nat. Wanda too, if she would've taken them." He muttered the last part under his breath, the words emotionless but regret and guilt clear in his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked back at her with a raised brow. "And how do you know about the Accords? Do they have a current events class in the Red Room?"

"We do actually have to keep up with some events for missions. But, no. I've been reading old newspapers. Did you know you were on the front page for almost two weeks in June?"

"No. Nobody reads the paper anymore. Unless you're a dinosaur anyway."

"Uncle Rhodey likes the paper," she said with that still small but still real smile. "For the crossword puzzles."

"Yeah. Like I said: Dinosaur." With that, the jokes seemed to slide away as he took on a more serious tone. "But I'll handle it. I've already been trying to handle the Accords. You'll be safe, and free, at home, Penny. I promise."

"I can really come home?"

Dad paused. "Did you think you wouldn't?"

Penny shrugged. "I don't know. I wanted to. I want to. But I just... I didn't know how safe it would be, and I know how to live by myself. How to avoid suspicion. I was...I was prepared for other options."

"If you were planning on running, why did you meet with me?"

"I don't know," she said. But truthfully, there had been a hole in her heart. A knot in her stomach. She'd just--she'd needed to see her dad. To apologize and let him know she was okay. She'd missed her family for so long, she had to imagine they'd missed her too. In fact, Penny had wanted nothing more to know they'd missed her. That those years in the Red Room wondering where her family was hadn't been because they didn't care.

Realistically, Penny knew Dad had missed her. Had loved her enough to grieve and look for her, but being there for so long--so terribly long--had been enough for seeds of doubt to sprout and root itself in her mind. But the teenager didn't tell her dad that. That would make him upset, and Penny was tired of being upset. Instead, she said, "Just missed you. Wanted to know that you're okay."

"Well, now you're gonna know every day," he said. "And you're going to know that Pepper is okay. And Rhodey and Happy. And you're never going to miss us again."

"Never?"

"Nope. Well, maybe when you go to school. But we can homeschool if you would prefer that. Would you?"

"Oh, uh, I don't--"

"Yeah, never mind. You don't have to know right now," he said with a wave. Then he smiled at her again, that genuine smile that squinted his eyes and pulled at his wrinkled laugh lines. "Right now, why don't we just go home?"

"Yeah," she said. And suddenly no other thought occupied her mind. Home was all she could think of. Of tall New York skyscrapers and the bustling city. Or maybe they'd go back to Malibu, even if his house was gone. Either way she'd see her uncle again. And Pepper. And Happy, who were all family to her. Family she hadn't seen in so long. "Let's go home."

Dad smiled, his eyes misty. Penny smiled back, taking his hand and leaning against him in another hug. He readily accepted, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a light kiss to the crown of her head.

The best part: Nothing about him whispered danger. Or discomfort or uneasiness. There was just...comfort.

Just home.

It was the best feeling in the entire world.

—-

“Should we tell Uncle Rhodey we're on the way?"

"Nah. He loves surprises."

"He hates surprises."

"Exactly!"

Penny laughed. And the sound, the feeling, was just like home.

#peter parker #tony stark #female peter parker #irondad #irondad and spiderson #iron man fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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