#so when I realized that a) the wind farm would fit on the side of the lot by the path | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 13 days

Text

30k (2) Masterlist

part one

all that glitters is gold (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum T, 30k

Summary: Luke is running from everyone, including himself, and Calum is getting tired from chasing after him.

All The Mistakes I've Made (ao3) - mukeofficial michael/luke E, 33k

Summary: After spending over a week separated from Michael when he lost his passport in the States, Luke was relieved to finally be reunited with him. But after spending some more time with his best friend, Luke realizes his feelings for Michael are a lot stronger than he ever intended.

Authority (ao3) - gloomywilbur luke/ashton E, 38k

Summary: "In all our lives, there is a fall from innocence. A time after which we are never the same."

Close To You (ao3) - DracosPubicHair michael/luke E, 37k

Summary: Michael is a grumpy teenage boy who needs to "lighten up," which is what his mother likes to call it. Michael thinks he's perfectly fine with his Nintendo and his Xbox, but Karen isn't going to accept that when she gets a call from an old friend and invites them to their farm miles away from his gaming consoles.

Michael isn't happy about it, even if there's a cute blond that lives there who does constant housework and is best friends with his dog.

Fucking Jerks (ao3) - orphan_account ot4 E, 37k

Summary: "Okay, who cums first loses, and owes a blowjob to the winner. Correct?" Calum raises his brows: "A blowjob now, huh?" "Well, a dish fit for a king," Michael replies.

Or: Ashton bids a Jerketition and who is Michael to refuse...? (Includes the winner+loser spin off)

hello, hello (ao3) - bellawritess luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 30k

Summary: For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from Sunny Days, the show they co-starred on as children.

But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.

hold you closer than I ever did before (ao3) - jeffreyskinner luke/ashton T, 32k

Summary: “What’s the date,” Ashton asks, cracking an eye open at the doctor. He wants to know how many months he’s lost, he doesn’t want any bullshit spiel doctors tend to give.

She looks back at Luke and gives him a nod, like hearing it from Luke will make it better, more real somehow. Luke comes around the side of his bed and reaches out for Ashton's hand, as if trying to ground him, his blue eyes looking so fucking sad. “It’s September 30th, 2025.”

or; Ashton falls at a gig, loses four years of memory, and forgets he and Luke are together.

How He Moves (ao3) - thesoulsailor michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 30k

Summary: And Luke knew he was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pry his eyes away. Because the feeling that spread through Luke's body when he looked at the strange boy was the same he strived for when he danced. The stranger was consummate.

or Luke lives for the ballet, Michael lives for the moment, Ashton is a dance prodigy and Calum will do pretty much anything to win his boyfriend back.

if i knew from the start, would it change a thing? (ao3) - acetominophen luke/ashton N/R, 35k

Summary: “All I painted was you, Ash. It was always you.” But Ashton wasn’t listening to him at all. His silver-lined eyes were trained on the hand-written words at the bottom of the canvas, unblinking.

Luke’s gaze followed his and his lips parted because shit, he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that he’d titled this one.

‘Poisoned myself again. LH’.

Artist!Luke Cowboy!Ashton

in the in between (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 32k

Summary: “What the fuck is this?”

It’s pretty much Luke’s first full spoken-in-person-sentence to Calum in months.

It’s his first sentence to Calum in months, and he’s yelling it in the middle of his driveway at seven in the morning, while a dog yelps back at him from down the street. It’s perfect.

“I thought you said you wanted iced coffee,” Calum replies defensively, consciously diverting his eyes away from Luke’s face because it’s the only way he can be sure he’s not staring. He needs to act normal, but he can’t remember exactly what acting normal around Luke actually entails. Probably not constantly shifting his eyes around like he’s possessed. He forces his eyes back to Luke’s face before Luke goes off in search of a priest skilled in exorcisms.

i wish we had a clue to start new, a white moon, no residue (ao3) - orphan_account calum/ashton T, 32k

Summary: ”Hi,” someone to Calum’s right said.

Calum turned, confused. A guy had slipped into the seat beside Calum’s without him noticing and was looking at him. Calum had seen him around—obviously, since they were in the same class together at the moment—but couldn’t remember his name. Something on M, maybe Mark?

”Hi?” Calum said, admittedly a bit sceptical. No one ever talked to him in class.

”My friend”—he pointed to a guy a few rows down; he waved to Calum—”and I were wondering if you’d like to work with us on this project?” he (was his name really Mark?) asked and Calum positively stared, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise; that was the last thing he’d expected to be asked.

Michael's Dirty Diary (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/luke E, 32k

Summary: Why did Luke find somebody's diary? Why did he even want to read it when he knew he should not? The things he was reading were shocking but he could not help but read more, specially since he was involved. Who was that Michael anyway? Luke had to find out.

Retrouvailles - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) luke/ashton E, 36k

Summary: A story about countless small pebbles stacking up to form seemingly impenetrable and unclimbable walls, and the consequences of taking a loved one for granted.

the empty white (ao3) - asymmetric ot4 E, 33k

Summary: (People all over the world start vanishing into thin air. Calum is one of them.)

Under the High Low Lights I See You There (ao3) - FayeHunter luke/ashton M, 33k

Summary: Luke moves onto cleaning the glasses, sneaking glances over at him, admiring the open blue flannel he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his chest in the white tank top he’s wearing and the pull of it over his muscles, the acid wash denim pants straining over his thighs. He’s attractive and Luke knows he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be so obvious in his stares, but he can’t help it. The man was made to be admired.

Or: It’s the summer of 1996 in New York City when Luke meets Ashton at his bar. Things aren’t always as they seem.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #masterlists #30k #30k masterlist

2 notes · View notes

cutieodonoghue · 1 year

Text

return

summary: [mandomera week day 1: memory] Set immediately after BoBF, Din thinks of Omera.

word count: ~1700

rating: g

read it on ao3 or below :)

Din couldn’t help the smile that found his lips as he brought the N-1 starfighter off of Tatooine.

He hadn’t realized how eager he was for Grogu to experience the ship until he got the kid into the seat behind his head and heard his curious coo as he took it all in.

He could still hear the kid behind him several minutes later. Happy noises and delighted giggles accompanied every movement they made, sounds Din was comforted by- but also brought to mind memories of a place they’d been before where joy came plentiful and just as easy.

Briefly, Din shut his eyes just to listen to the sounds. It was so good to hear; a comfort in the shape of promise that the kid had decided to return to him. They chose each other. Grogu wanted to stay.

In the dark behind his eyes, Din saw a ripple of sunlight through rich green leaves, tumbling through branches as it spilled warmly onto a dark head of hair.

Laughter, a mixture of voices that included the kid, carried on the wind but was faded by the dampener of time. No matter how good the memory, it felt fragmented and as lost as he’d felt without the kid by his side.

“How much farther?” he’d asked.

Her reply echoed like a whisper in his ear, “We’ll be there soon.”

He could see more sunlight, a pretty golden hue that soaked through the leaves of trees that towered overhead.

“Isn’t it so beautiful?”

Omera.

Covered in the patterned light, she moved as if time itself had slowed down. A smile spread to the apple of her cheek and creased lines appeared at the corner of her eye. In the air, he could hear her laughter, familiar but so far away.

“I come here to think.” Her voice was detached from the image he saw of her. “The river calms me. What calms you?”

Eyes opened again, the Mandalorian glimpsed at the nav in front of him.

Naturally, the thought of returning to Sorgan, the place where the kid had laughed on a daily basis and made friends with almost everyone, led him to think more deeply about Omera.

She’d asked him to stay, a breathless request that tugged at the deepest and most private desires in his heart. At the time, the idea of settling down there for the rest of his life wouldn’t have worked. He had responsibilities to his people and he had to keep the kid safe.

Things were different. Not quite right, he thought, for a full return to the beautiful widow he’d befriended, but… maybe the kid would like to go back, where his friends were? Just for a little while?

Din pondered it in his heart while he showed off the N-1’s impressive speed. The kid loved the way it felt. He kept asking for more with that little metal ball of his.

Tap, tap, tap. More, more, more!

“Hey, kid,” Din said with a glimpse over his shoulder. His words forced the fun to end even if the boy continued to demand more fast dashes through space. “Do you remember Sorgan?”

His fingers hovered over the nav computer. He had his sights set on the little planet in the Outer Rim, but he still hadn’t quite made up his mind.

“You liked it there.”

The last time they’d gone to Sorgan, it hadn’t been for very long.

For just a few short days, they visited with the sole purpose of friendship and goodwill. The people of the tiny farming village on the ponds were kind and always happy to see him and the kid- but mostly the kid.

When they landed the Razor Crest in a clearing near the village, he’d sensed a rainstorm brewing, and was proven right not too much later.

The soft pitter-patter of rain against the metal of the Razor Crest was soothing. It felt fitting, almost, that the rain would come on the evening of their return to Sorgan - to wash it all clean and start anew.

There was pressure that pressed at the back of his mind, a duty he’d been tasked with on Nevarro: the Child was his to care for. He was to be as his father until they found his kind.

While the rain fell against his ship, he casted a look over his shoulder to the Child, who had attached himself almost instantly to Winta’s side when they set foot in the small, familiar village.

It wasn’t the first time they’d returned to Sorgan, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Each visit felt more and more like he and the kid had returned home. It was nice to feel the way he did when he met the eyes of the villagers for the first time and saw their excitement and warmth. They were wanted and appreciated amongst the small community, in a way that not many others in the galaxy appreciated them.

“How long are you visiting?” Omera had asked, that same spark of warmth in her eyes. “We can make up a room for you if you’d like.”

He’d agreed, having decided while they made the journey from Nevarro to Sorgan that they would stay for a few days. Just long enough to recharge after the battle in the main city on Nevarro, and then they would have plenty of work to do if they were going to find a Jedi.

Sorgan was safe. It was quiet. It was a good place to rest and process.

Din brought Omera and Winta to the Razor Crest when Winta inquired about seeing the place he and the kid spent most of their time.

It had been at least half an hour and the rain continued to fall, soft like the grasses of Sorgan’s earth and steady like an unbroken promise.

There was something cooler in the night air that he could feel as he watched the rain from the open doorway. It was tempting to head back, to just forget about the rain and press forward through it, but Winta and Omera didn’t seem ready to leave just yet.

Winta sat on a crate with the kid at her side, both of them playing a game that only made sense to the two of them. The kid seemed happier. He liked playing games- could probably do it all day long if he was allowed.

That was one thing Din could never give the boy: time for games and fun. He liked to keep a busy work ethic, to find solutions to his problems as quickly and efficiently as he could. It kept him moving constantly, and it was what he felt most comfortable doing.

The only exception to that rule had been Sorgan. They’d stayed put for a few weeks on the tiny backwater skughole, where there was nothing to do but farm and drink; where the only excitement was when things went wrong in a way that was unexpected.

Din focused on the rainfall as the pace of it picked up. No longer was it soft and light. Instead, it pelted the ground in heavy sheets in a downpour that he could feel in the very marrow of his bones.

His shoulder rested against the side of the doorway that led off of the Razor Crest and his legs and arms were crossed loosely. He listened to the sound that the rain made against his ship and breathed the scent of it in as deeply as he could. It was rare for him to slow down enough to enjoy a rain storm.

“It’s been a while since we last had rain like this,” Omera interrupted his thoughts.

He glanced over in time to see her join him in the doorway, on the opposite side. She admired the rain peacefully, tilting her head just slightly while she gazed into the darkness to see the water fall from the sky.

When she turned her head, she looked at him again with dimpled cheeks and a soft, happy smile.

“I’m glad you came back. It’s good to take a break sometimes.”

Din nodded. “We like it here.”

A knowing spark twinkled in her eyes. “Good. I’m glad. We like having you here.”

There was something beneath his breastbone that ached with desperate longing at her words. It felt good to be wanted- to be appreciated- but when it was Omera who wanted him, it felt different. Her approval meant more to him than most, even if they’d only known one another for a short time.

“I admit I was surprised to see your ship in the sky tonight,” she added with a small laugh. “Winta saw it first. She was very excited.”

They both looked backward, at the pair of children who sat together laughing happily as they celebrated a reunion.

“They get along,” Din said. “The kid doesn’t have many friends.”

Omera was quiet for a second. “What about you? Do you have many friends?”

He considered her query and felt himself smile softly. “I have a few.” His head tilted toward her. “Including you.”

Her smile was as bright as sunshine and he felt that burst of longing in his chest again. It was comfortable with her, on Sorgan, where he could just stand with her in silence and listen to the rain.

But it wasn’t the sound of the rain that he heard anymore.

Tap, tap, tap, taptaptaptaptap–

He was yanked from the memory and sighed heavily. The kid wanted to keep going fast, but Din couldn’t help the desire that burned in him to slow down in the safe comfort of friendship that perhaps teetered on the edge of something more. Just for a little while. They both needed it.

“We should take a few days and go to Sorgan,” Din finally decided. “What do you think, Grogu?”

The boy made a noise at the sound of his name. Then, there was a much gentler tap in reply.

Din smiled as he set the nav. Visions of sunlight through trees overhead returned and laughter sounded in echoes, a promise- hope - of what they might get to experience again soon.

#mandomera #mandomeraweek2022 #din x omera #the mandalorian #my writing #mm os

21 notes · View notes

wolfgirlandfarmboy · 1 year

Text

It's unknown how exactly the two winded up on the topic, but Nana had found herself having to describe what kind of dog her boyfriend would be.

They were lounging on the couch as per lazy day protocol when Jack had gone off on one of his cute ramble tangents. And by the time he stopped, he ended it with a "What dog vibes do I give off?"

Nana pursed her lips and tilted her head in thought.

"Well...you would definitely be a big dog. Not crazy big but you certainly aren't a puppy." Nana pondered about his size in comparison to her. She rested more of her weight on him as she leaned into his side, one hand resting on his arm that was draped over her shoulder.

Jack perked up a bit. "So like...a Boxer?"

Nana nodded before shaking her head. "Yeah but I wouldn't say you have Boxer energy. I'd say Ashe is a better fit for that. You have...I wanna say golden retriever but that's not it either," Nana squinted and Jack couldn't help but admire the cute expression on her face.

"What's the name of those dogs that herd sheep?"

"A...shepherd dog?"

"Nono, the other one. Not as hairy. Kinda like the one Lassie was-"

"AH! A Border Collie!"

Nana grinned up at him. "Yeah! You remind me of one of those dogs."

"Ah...I can sorta see it...actually I can super see it." Jack let out a laugh as he thought more about the comparisons. It was almost embarrassing how right on the head Nana hit the nail. "Gee, you're kinda really good at this."

Nana's grin shifted into a more smug one as she nuzzled up to her boyfriend. "The perks of being a Lupine."

Jack blushed as he felt Nana getting closer and his mind went blank. There was white noise and that noise was her happy purring. There wasn't a single thought or working brain cell in his mind.

"...Jack?"

Jack snapped back to reality as he realized Nana had been calling for him and he looked down to see her big silver eyes staring right back.

"S-sorry 'bout that! What were you saying?"

"I asked if you wanted to try assigning a dog to me?"

Jack blinked a couple times. A dog for Nana was definitely much harder to nail down. His automatic response was going to be a wolf but...well a wolf isn't really a dog. At least not in this case. Jack hummed as he leaned in a little closer to Nana's face, his focus mainly being on her whole...existence being translated over to a dog breed. Ironically, he didn't notice her blush darkening.

He figured he could at least nail down the size like she did. That way he could narrow down a breed.

"Well you'd definitely be a lap dog!" Jack happily professed as he pulled away. Nana's eyes widened, her cheeks now noticeably warm.

It took the farm boy a couple seconds to realize exactly what he just said. And once he did, his face went completely red.

"I-I mean! Because you're small! And easy to pick up!"

Nana, sensing the flustered tone in Jack's voice, simply smirked. There was blood in the water.

"Perfect size to put in your lap?" She purred as she pressed up against him more. She could feel his body temperature soar and his voice wobble.

"I-I mean y-yeah when you put it like that." Jack had to turn his head. He couldn't concentrate under the flirtatious gaze of his girlfriend who was mere inches from his face.

But this is Nana. Which means running was futile. And she had become less interested in an answer now and more interested in taking that "lap dog" descriptor for a lap.

Jack only had a second of processing before he turned to see his smaller girlfriend now plopped down in his lap, a smirk on her face and amusement in her eyes...along with something else. He froze, his heart beating so fast and loud that he was sure she could hear it.

Nana purred as she wrapped her arms around his neck, anchoring his gaze to be on her and only her.

"What else~?" Nana cocked her head, an ear flickering. Jack gulped. He had completely forgot they were still talking about dogs.

"W-well...y-you're really-" Jack was trying so hard to make a sentence. He was trying to think of something to help him continue to conversation. But all that would come out as he watched Nana flutter her eyelashes at him was-

"I can't really think of any pretty dog breeds but...you can't really think at all at the moment so-" She planted another quick kiss on his lips. "I'll let you get away with 'lap dog' for now."

"You're really pretty."

A goofy and dreamy laugh escaped him as his last braincell gave out. Nana softly giggled before kissing him on the cheek.

Jack give his best response back but with his mind being stuck on cloud 9, all he could really do was smile and nod as Nana pulled him back down for another barrage of kisses.

#jack #nana #writing

21 notes · View notes

tunastime · 2 years

Note

If you would be so kind scarian 17 for the writing prompts

17. you’re distracting / you promised (x) (843 words)

“Grian.”

Scar looked over at him. The wind blew his hair into his eyes so that he had to push it back and man, was that a sight for sore eyes. Something about the tycoon suit fit him so well (besides it being well fitted) that it was a bit hard not to stare. They sat on Scar’s balcony, legs kicked over the side, sitting in autumn sun. Grian had to help Scar sit. He didn’t mind.

“Hm?” Grian cocked his head. He furrowed his eyebrows. Scar looked away as if the sun got a little bright and he shifted, not away and not closer to Grian, just shifting. He had a frown between his eyes, just barely visible from this angle, an angle Grian found himself in quite frequently, staring at the side of Scar’s face and wishing he’d look over just a tad more. Scar said:

“Remember back the first time we did the death game, and you got me killed?” he laughed, and if something soft hadn’t made a homestead with a windmill and a farm in Grian’s chest it certainly had then. Was it silly to describe someone’s laugh as soul-mending?

Scar continued. “And then you promised me that you’d be with me until you lost your first life, and then stayed even after that?”

Grian wasn’t sure where Scar was going with this. Not that he often did.

“Mhm...?” he hummed.

“Did...” Scar’s eyes flicked over. The frown was still there. “Hm...”

Grian’s hands, splayed out behind him, shifted. He moved back on them, like he were stepping foot to foot to throw off the nervous shudder up his spine.

“Did what?” he asked, voice twinged at the lip with concern. “What’s up, Scar?”

Scar shook his head, as if he’d decided this was some awful thing to say that didn’t taste good to him and he couldn’t make it happen. Some part of Grian maybe knew the words he wanted to say but he wouldn’t ever force Scar to say them, especially if he thought Grian may lie to him (which he wanted to say he couldn’t, but he could. He could lie to him for his safety. Because it was easier to swallow. To protect him from some great evil. Otherwise, maybe he couldn’t. It had never gone beyond protecting him or pulling jokes. He didn’t know if he could lie to him maliciously. He hoped to never find out.)

“Nothing,” Scar swallowed. Grian watched his throat. “I was just wondering something, but it’s kind of lame.”

“It’s—” Grian scoffed. That’s crazy. He waved his hands, dismissive and careless. “It’s not lame, whatever it is, just spit it out.”

Scar’s eyes were back on him, out of the corner. He saw the green before the pupil. He watched the curve of his mouth when he spoke.

“Did you love me in the desert?”

Grian scoffed again, not malice, disbelief. The words say of course, even if he doesn’t speak them.

“Did I?” he said. “You mean—” Then the words got thick. He realized what the sentence ended with and his brain caught up just in time, so he stopped, still do a gritty, peanut-buttery texture on the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t swallow.

“Do I mean what?” Scar said, just out of a whisper. He turned to him, all at once, then, those green eyes bright and big enough to drown in. “Grian—”

Grian met those eyes, clutched to a life preserver in them, letting the paste of the words thin in mouth.

"Do you mean do I?” he said. Grian spoke hesitantly. He held Grian’s gaze. “Do I still love you?”

“Not necessarily...” Scar supplied. Grian breathed, feeling it through his teeth.

“Did you love me in the desert?”

“I...” Something registered, then, and Scar understood, maybe, that scope of the question. The lingering still. He let go of Grian’s gaze, turned it to his hands, and finished: “I still do.”

I loved you in the desert. I did. I still do. That’s what Grian had wanted to say, in the beginning. But it was lost in a half sentence, and Scar was looking away from him, and he couldn’t say the words I love you without it sounding more like pity (right now), so instead he said:

"Damn it, Scar—”

And he took his face between his hands and pulled him in to him and mashed their lips together unceremoniously and clumsily with teeth knocking teeth by accident and Scar did it too. Just like in the desert. In the sun and in the heat.

Grian kissed him on the porch, face warm and head full of all the soft things he wanted to give him. Starting with his heart, his hands, his arms, the other side of his bed. Breakfast, promises, lingering looks. Soft because this world handled soft well enough to allow it. Soft because it wasn’t something Grian was good at, and Scar was a good teacher. Soft because, well, why not? Scar deserved it.

He loved him. He still does.

#so i tried something a little different here #with the tense and the everything #so i hope it worked im nervous to post this but i love them so much #scarian #gtws #gtwscar #grian #hermitshipping #hermitcraft #hc s8 #fics #text #the writing thing #hermitcraft fanfic #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfiction #thank you for requesting scarian i owe you my life #again i am as usual back on my bullshit i just needed to take a weekend break from fic writing

34 notes · View notes

fleurcareil · 9 months

Text

South Saskatchewan

Next morning, I was super-efficient in packing up and left sharp at 7.45am (I've become even better at early departures in the Rockies, simply to avoid the crowds 🥴) as I had a long drive to do; over 600km to my next camping spot... Not sure I completely had thought this through when I booked it, but think I was lured by the 1-hour jump back in time when crossing into Saskatchewan, although the actual driving time stays the same of course!! 🤔

First Gmaps direction; turn left in 361km.... love it, those large-distance roads in Canada! 🙃 I was now officially on the Red Coat Trail but different to other provinces, I never saw any plaques or tourist info signs so I still don't really understand what it's about... I presume something with the army traveling west during the new frontier?? Now, it's just endless fields and sky which are pretty in their own right... Although I love my trees and forests, there's something special about this massive expanse of agricultural lands, a testament to human's ability to control the land. I did feel cheated, as the "Land of Living Skies" was yellow-grey both below and above the horizon with smoke turning everything dull... such a shame! On the way, there's really not much to see apart from the rare sunflower field 🤩, modern-day grain stores, cows and surprisingly lots of nodding donkeys that pump oil from the ground!

Close to half-way the province, I veered further south towards the US border onto gravel roads to see Castle Butte, a 200ft-high knoll left in the landscape during the Ice Age (not sure I trust that info, as I thought buttes are of volcanic origin). Looming high above the flat prairie land I tried to climb up it (where other people already were so I was not completely stupid yet) but it got too steep for my non-hiking shoes and then instead of coming down on my butt as I should have, I tried to walk it and ended up running at full speed down the slope... I got really extremely lucky I didn't fall and break any/all body parts!! 😳😳 I did end up semi-twisting both ankles which I still feel 2 weeks later, but instead of complaining I am grateful that that was the worst of it! Phew...

The adventures of the day didn't stop with that because a bit later I ran over and killed a duck! 😫 With lots of dark skid marks on the gravel, I only realized too late that there were 4 full-sized ducks sitting in the middle of the road and although I braked as much I safely could, I had no choice than to go over them and hope they all fit between my wheels... 3 survived (likely with a heart attack!) and one didn't. I've had very little roadkill in the 20+ years driving, and definitely nothing as big as this so that was quite upsetting!

My mood improved however when I arrived at Grasslands National Park, which consists of two blocks some 170km apart; the east block that I visited first protects a vast expanse of badlands, whereas the west block where I was camping that night represents Canada's largest tract of untouched native prairielands (which covered most of North America's central region until the settlers came ranching & farming). I'm trying not to overkill with pictures but both areas were very very pretty and I would urge anyone to make a trip out here!

On the east side, there's a few hikes but it was so hot that I simply drove along the Badlands Parkway with interpretative signs explaining the geology and the natural & human history of the area. The badlands seem at first glance quite monotone but then I discovered flowers, prickly pear cacti, gophers (ground squirrels of which I had already spotted lots on the road) and even a pronghorn antilope!

The clouds pushed by the wind kept changing the light patterns, highlighting in turn different hills, so it was great to sit for a while in a red chair and see the scenery constanly change.

Hot and tired, I made the trek to the other block passing enroute another grain elevator, after which I set up camp on the beautiful prairie without a single tree (with a fence though to protect against the bison)! My pic of the sunset doesn't do it justice, but you can imagine how pretty the sky was, and as this is a dark sky preserve, I stayed up late (after midnight, which doesn't happen often anymore 😜) to watch the Milky Way in its full glory.

The next morning, I had a clear task; prairie dog and bison hunting, which are the two key species of the park. A gopher (top left pic) had already been running all morning around my site (he shouldn't have built his hole next to the firepit), so when I spotted the first prairie dog (top right pic) in one of the park's colonies or "dog towns" I was a bit confused as they looked the same to me! 😂 Turns out the prairie dogs are about twice the size and much more afraid of humans, although they loved eating the dead bugs from my car bumper and tires 😍 which meant that although it was impossible to get up close while walking as the first prairie dog would bark to warn the entire colony and then all disappeared, they had no problem with the car being close to them... funny how humans impact nature in weird ways sometimes!

The bison were more elusive, as they truly don't like people, and although a herd of 500 of them is maintained in the park (with surplus animals being exported to other parks for reintroduction), the enclosed area is so large for them to roam in that they have plenty of places to hide. So I slowly made my way through the park with my binoculars on hand, learning along the way about a homestead that had managed to ranch cattle for a few years but then had to abandon because it was simply too hard to survive on the barren land, the different native grasses that make up the prairieland, a bison rubbing rock and a stone tipi ring, all the while enjoying the views.

And then finally, when I had given up and was enroute to the village to get gas, I first saw a lone bison chugging through the grass, and then at the outermost corner of the enclosure, suddenly there was a group of 40 bison, including a few calves, that were grazing and rolling in the dirt. I promise I could see them much clearer in my binoculars than the little black specks in the picture! 😁

By the time I got to the village a massive rainstorm broke out so good reason to drop by the visitor centre and confirm it was a golden eagle (much bigger than bald eagles) that I had seen on a pole. I first didn't understand the gas "station" set-up as you needed to pull some levers to get it going, but finally managed to fill up the car once more.

That evening, the skies blackened suddenly with a thunderstorm and the wind was so strong that the tent started sliding away (the neighbour's did blow away) so I threw in as many stones I could find, parked my car in front of the tent to form a bit of a windshield and waited it out in the car... no way I was going to stay in the tent on this flat land! Luckily the storm passed quite quickly after which I had a drink with my neighbours to laugh it out, but I did end up sleeping in the car (for the first time and quite comfortably!) as rain came & went with some more lightning in the night.

When I drove off in the morning towards the Alberta border, I finally got the promised Living Skies Land with blue skies and golden fields, seeing the Prairies in all its hues 😊 I also saw another (the same??) herd of bisons on the way out of the park as well as another smaller golden eagle and several antelopes 😍

After a relatively short drive, I arrived at the Cypress Hills Interprovincial Park, which straddles the border between Saskatchewan and Alberta, consisting again of two blocks. Although I had planned again to visit the eastern block first and camp in the western one, a staff member pointed out that I was actually staying in the eastern block so that saved me another 1.5 hours drive! 👍 The park is unfortunately not very natural and has been developed as a resort with mini-golf, golf course, swimming pool etc so I was a bit disappointed. The nature that there is, is being protected because it's on a hill standing 500m above the plains so it was not glaciated and has therefore unique plant life (including trees) that doesn't occur anywhere else in the region but they haven't done a good job at protecting it! I had great internet at a viewpoint so ended up sitting on a bench there for 4 hours booking my next set of accommodations 😃 while occasionally hearing loud grunting lower on the hill which I presume was an angry moose so I didn't have any urge to go explore further!

Next day, I would be driving into Alberta, so this was Saskatchewan for now until I return further north on my way back. Adieu!

Wildlife: 1 coyote & 1 deer (Red Coat Trail), 100+ ground squirrels (gophers), 100+ prairie dogs, 43 bison in the afternoon and 50 bison in the morning, 2 golden eagles, 2 ferruginous hawks, 1 deer, 5 pronghorn antilopes (Grasslands), 3 red-tailed hawks & 3 deer (Cypress Hills)

SUPs: none

Hikes: no real ones, just lots of little sidetrips to viewpoints

Distance driven since the last map (I'm losing track of the weeks 😉 but it's been a while all the way from Sleeping Giant): 1,925 km

3 notes · View notes

diagenetic-nostalgic · 1 year

Text

the longest decade of the shortest century:

losing the 70s

the clientele - losing haringey

In those days, there was a kind of fever that pushed me out of the front door, into the pale, exhaust-fumed park by Broadwater Farm or the grubby road that eventually leads to Enfield: Turkish supermarket after chicken restaurant after spare car part shop. Everything in my life felt like it was coming to a mysterious close: I could hardly walk to the end of a street without feeling there was no way to go except back. The dates I’d had that summer had come to nothing, my job was a dead end and the rent cheque was killing me a little more each month. It seemed unlikely that anything could hold much longer. The only question left to ask was what would happen after everything familiar collapsed, but for now the summer stretched between me and that moment

It was ferociously hot, and the air quality became so bad that by the evening the noise of nearby trains stuttered in in fits and starts, distorted through the shifting air. As I lay in the cool of my room, I could hear my neighbors discussing the world cup and opening beers in their gardens. On the other side, someone was singing an Arabic prayer through the thin wall. I had no money for the pub so I decided to go for a walk

I found myself wandering aimlessly to the west, past the terrace of chip and kebab shops and launderettes near the tube station. I crossed the street, and headed into virgin territory - I had never been this way before. Gravel-dashed houses alternated with square 60s offices, and the wide pavements undulated with cracks and litter. I walked and walked, because there was nothing else for me to do, and by degrees the light began to fade

The mouth of an avenue led me to the verge of a long, greasy A-road that rose up in the far distance, with symmetrical terraces falling steeply down then up again from a distant railway station. There were four benches to my right, interspersed with those strange bushes that grow in the area, whose blossoms are so pale yellow they seem translucent, almost spectral; and suddenly tired, I sat down. I held my head in my hands, feeling like shit, but a sudden breeze escaped from the terraces and for a moment I lost my thoughts in its unexpected coolness. I looked up and I realized I was sitting in a photograph

I remembered clearly: this photograph was taken by my mother in 1982, outside our front garden in Hampshire. It was slightly underexposed. I was still sitting on the bench, but the colors and the planes of the road and horizon had become the photo. If I looked hard, I could see the lines of the window ledge in the original photograph were now composed by a tree branch and the silhouetted edge of a grass verge. The sheen of the flash on the window was replicated by bonfire smoke drifting infinitesimally slowly from behind a fence. My sister’s face had been dimly visible behind the window, and -yes- there were pale stars far off to the west that traced out the lines of a toddler’s eyes and mouth

When I look back at this there’s nothing to grasp, no starting point. I was inside an underexposed photo from 1982 but I was also sitting on a bench in Haringey

Strongest of all was the feeling of 1982-ness: dizzy, illogical, as if none of the intervening disasters and wrong turns had happened yet. I felt guilty, and inconsolably sad. I felt the instinctive tug back - to school, the memory of shopping malls, cooking, driving in my mother’s car. All gone, gone forever

I just sat there for a while. I was so tired that I didn’t bother trying to work out what was going on. I was happy just to sit in the photo while it lasted, which wasn’t for long anyway: the light faded, the wind caught the smoke, the stars dimmed under the glare of the street-lamps. I got up and walked away from the squat little benches and an oncoming gang of kids

A bus was rumbling to my rescue down the hill, with a great big ‘via Alexandra Palace’ on its front, and I realized I did want a drink after all

Gábor Balázs: “Because who said it was impossible?” — the Italian long ‘68, part 8

"Autonomy turned into the deification of individual enterprise, the drastic reduction of wage labour into the subordination of the totality of our lives to the logic of value production, the harsh critique of culture into an all-encompassing lack of culture, ignorance and cynicism.

The collective experience of the rejection of wage labour, the practical ways of living outside capitalist society, boomeranged back after the defeat: automation, reconstruction, unemployment, flexibility, precariat, the end of the working class… The end point of the "trend" was not the last hours of wage labour (or the "de-socialisation" of work), but the bizarre, terrifying reality of a work-based society based on less and less work.

[...]

Meanwhile, in the labyrinths of the big cities, silence, loneliness and helplessness reigned. The same meaningless words poured from the mouths of serial politicians on television screens. The eighties had begun.

The years of cynicism, opportunism and fear.

And we have not even mentioned what has happened since then.

[...]

Autonomia showed what could be possible - it is no coincidence that after the debacle there was such a strong sense of disillusionment, which (as usual) sooner or later led to indifference and then regression. If you think about it, Italy's next two decades were dominated by Andreotti, Bettino Craxi and Berlusconi - few countries in the western half of the continent have been lower. Perhaps none. And perhaps this is also the reason for today's Italian disaster: while other countries where anti-fascism is a national tradition (Greece, Spain, Portugal, France perhaps the borderline case) are quite well resistant to the current fascist wave, there is not much left of the Italy of Bella ciao (or what remains is a cultural enclave - but that they also have elsewhere)."

0 notes

weirdlyobsessedwithegos · 2 years

Text

Darkiplier x reader x Antisepticeye

Anon: 🙃 I'm high key craving some Anti rn, so could it be Anti x (gender neutral) reader x Dark where it's like 4am and Dark caught reader and Anti playing Minecraft so he drags then to bed and then they cuddle for a bit before reader falls asleep

Writing this mostly on my phone is my distraction from the fact that I’m not able to watch ISWM yet (if the formatting is weird I blame mobile)

Dark would have thought better off you.

He thought you would have know better by now.

But no, instead he finds you being foolish.

It’s 4AM, and he finds you and Anti playing Minecraft.

He knows Anti doesn’t care, but he knows you know you should be in bed and asleep by now. Anti doesn’t need much sleep and neither does he, but you do.

For a minute he stands in the doorway, just watching. Neither you or Anti notice the low ringing that follows Dark everywhere, headphones on and talking to each other while you build what looks like a farm together.

So when a heavy hand lands on your shoulder and Anti’s, you almost jump out of your chair and skin. Anti actually glitches and you swear, quickly turning around to face Dark, ripping your headphones off in the process.

Dark’s eyes are thunderous, and you give him a nervous grin.

“Hey Dark.”

“You should be in bed.” Glancing at the clock, you realize how late it has become.

“Whoops.”

“Whoops indeed.”

“Ya fuck, what the fuck did you dat for’?!” Dark glances at Anti, who seemed to have gotten his sense back, headphones now off, shrugging off Dark’s hand.

“They should be in bed.”

“And ya decided to scare us half to death for that? And also fuck ya, they’re not a child with bedtime.” Dark rolls his eyes, the hand still on your shoulder rubbing slow circles.

“I care about their well being, unlike some people.” This time it’s you who roll your eyes as Anti winds up to argue some more.

“Stop it you two.” Both of their attention on you now, you stop Dark’s hand moving with your own. “Dark, we we’re having fun, we simply lost track of time.” Dark looks unconvinced, but before he can say anything else, you get up out of your chair, taking one of Dark’s hands in yours, and Anti’s hand in your other.

“Now, come, let’s actually go to bed and cuddle instead of you two bickering the rest of the night.” They both open their mouths to protest, but with a look they both shut up.

Not long after, you find yourself returning to the bedroom, done with getting ready for the night. Dark is on his back, reading a book, while Anti rests on his front with his eyes closed, space in between them for you.

Yawing, you crawl up on the bed, settling with your head on Dark’s chest, Anti appearing at your back and curling around you seconds later. Dark’s hand that isn’t occupied with his book comes to rest at Anti’s back as the two of you settle.

“What are you reading?” You have to stifle a yawn as Dark shifts the cover so you can read the red lettering on the black cover. Dracula. “Read it out loud to me?”

Dark raises a brow, looking down on you.

“Hardly the most fitting bedtime story.” Anti snorts behind you, nose buried in your back.

“What are they, five?” You elbow Anti as Dark pinches him, making him yelp. “Rude fuckers.”

“Always.” Anti grumbles, pinching your side in retort, you try to squirm away as Dark huffs. “Anyway, please Dark. I like your voice, and it will help me sleep.” Looking up at him, it doesn’t take long before Dark accepts, although with a put upon sigh.

“Very well then.” He clears his throat as you close your eyes, settling in and ready to listen to his voice with the constant low ringing in the background. “In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks...” He continues to read; the sound of him and occasionally Anti shifting behind you familiar and comforting sounds and sensations.

It doesn’t take long before it lulls you to sleep, content and calmed even with your unusual bedtime story.

#darkiplier x reader #antisepticeye x reader #dark x reader #Darkiplier x reader x antisepticeye #anti x reader #darkiplier fanfiction #darkiplier fic #antisepticeye fanfiction #anti #antisepticeye fic #dark #dark fic #antisepticeye x reader x darkiplier #dark fanfiction #reader insert #reader #dark x reader x anti #anti x reader x dark #darkiplier

332 notes · View notes

joezworld · 3 years

Note

(sorry Bird Site cooties but bear with me)

allow me to be the first to congratulate you

Word of God confirms swears-like-a-sailor!Percy is REAL

Of course Percy swears like a sailor - could he be any other way?

(Fic below)

Every now and again, when more than one engine on Thomas’ branch line was placed ‘out of service’, the Fat Controller would be forced to draft in a replacement engine from the main line. Normally this engine would be James, or maybe Donald or Douglas, as they were small enough to fit through the tunnel near Hackenbeck without major clearance problems. However, on some occasions they would be unavailable, and a different engine would be called in.

“What?” Gordon asked the stationmaster in shock. “Surely you can’t be serious.”

“Aye, I am.” The man said. “Thomas is getting his tubes replaced, and now Daisy’s gone an’ holed her oil pan somehow, so you must go and help out.”

“But it’s beneath me! Make James do it.”

“James is taking Daisy to the works - they’re probably halfway to Kellsthorpe by now.”

“But-”

“No buts!” The man said firmly. “It’s already been decided; Bear will take the express, Henry will take his trains, and you’ll be back here before midnight.”

Gordon looked thunderous, but there was nothing he could do. He wheeshed angrily as his crew made him ready, and was angrier still when they coupled him up to a long string of empty wagons, but there was no point in fighting back.

Fortunately the trucks recognized Gordon’s bad mood, and were well-behaved all the way to the junction. After shunting them for Percy’s train, (“Tender engines do not-” “If you start that up again I’ll run you up the line tender-first, got it?”) he collected Thomas’s coaches and started up the line.

For what it was worth, Annie and Clarabel were most impressed with him, which lightened his mood somewhat.

“Oh it is gracious of you to come and help us.” Annie said.

“If I close my eyes, I could almost believe that I was on a main line service again!” Clarabel put in.

“Oh, it’s nothing; We all must do our part to keep the railway running!” He said grandly, ignoring his crew’s laughter.

They progressed slowly up the line, stopping at every station and even a few lineside farm houses to pick up and drop off passengers. It was almost infuriatingly pastoral, especially when they were delayed for almost ten minutes by a flock of sheep that were being herded from one side of the line to another, but the slow pace seemed to suit almost everyone else - the passengers on the express would have made quite a fuss at the train’s slow pace, but everyone was unusually understanding when they had to slow down to a crawl to make sure Gordon could clear the Hackenbeck tunnel.

Emerging from the other side, they made a quick stop at Hackenbeck before reaching the end of the line at Ffarquhar. Once the passengers had disembarked, Gordon shunted them away (the indignities he suffered for this railway...) and was parked underneath the water tower for a drink.

It was a sunny and slow day, so his drink quickly turned into a nap, and he was eventually woken up by the sound of Toby laughing.

“I’m amazed he made it through the tunnel!” The tram engine was saying to another engine - a black diesel, what was her name? Maude? Maeve? Maria? Something like that - as they shunted away some stone wagons. “Oh look, he’s awake - hello Gordon, fancy seeing you here!”

“Indeed,” He said pompously. “I hope you don’t take offense when I say that I am not here by choice.”

More laughter. “I can see that - you should be glad that Thomas isn’t here, I can’t imagine how funny he’d find this.”

Gordon looked around - the entire depot was sized for tank engines and their ilk. He probably looked like Gulliver in Lilliput, and less educated minds would probably go straight to infantile jokes. Fortunately Toby seemed to be of more mature stock. “One can only imagine.”

While Toby had been talking, the diesel reversed out of a siding. “So, how long do you think it will take for him to find them?” She asked mischievously.

“Not too long.” Toby said, eying the siding. “You’d better hurry.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and tuned them out. Maybe Toby was merely smart enough to not act in such ways around his betters and he was actually just as infantile as Thomas and-

Peep Peep!

A whistle sounded in the distance, heralding the arrival of another infantile tank engine. The diesel jumped at the sound and scuttled out of the yard, a few wagons trailing behind her.

Percy quickly appeared, a line of tankers and vans trailing behind him. He seemed to be in a poor mood already, clearly not able to intimidate the trucks as Gordon could, but his mood turned even fouler as he entered the yard.

“Toby,” He said, his voice trembling with anger. “Where did she put them?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Toby replied, the picture of innocence. “After all, I am just a ‘senile old cube’, so what would I know?”

“Oh, is that what this is about!?” Percy was on the verge of angry hysterics. “It’s not enough that she comes into my yard and fucks around with my trucks, but you’re going to help her? You were supposed to fucking teach her!”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Every day I come in and put the yard to my liking, and every pissing day that bleeding disaster of a locomotive comes in here and my yard look a minger! And you bloody well encourage it, you meddling piece of geometry!”

“I’m sure if you asked Mavis where your brake vans were, she’d tell you.”

“How did you know I was looking for my brake vans?”

“Ah. Well, you see…” Toby started slowly backing away towards the main line.

“YOU WERE INVOLVED IN THIS! WHERE ARE THEY?”

“Well would you lookatthetimeIsurelymustbeneededatHackenbeckGoodbye!” Toby’s driver increased his speed as they reached the end of the yard tracks. Within a few moments Toby was speeding backwards down the line towards the junction.

Percy swore heavily at the retreating tram before he resigned himself to shunting. Gordon was petrified, and let off steam without realizing it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Percy snapped once he saw Gordon. “Actually, I don’t care - just keep your trap shut or I’ll make you regret it, savvy?”

Gordon did that and more, and said nothing to anyone until he was back at the junction.

“I do apologize about Percy.” Clarabel sighed as he was uncoupled from her. “He doesn’t mean it most of the time, it’s just that Mavis enjoys-”

“And Toby.” Annie put in.

“Yes. And Toby. And Thomas. And Daisy for that matter.” The coach said thoughtfully. “But anyways, they enjoy winding him up, but they’re all still very close to each other.”

Gordon took yet another slow goods train back to Tidmouth, and true to the station master’s word, he was back in the big sheds before midnight.

Henry and Bear looked most surprised to see him, but he paid that no mind. “Do either of you think,” He said slowly. “That there are things on this Island that we are totally unaware of?”

“Yes.” The other engines said in unison.

Gordon didn’t know what to make of that!

#fic #sodor #sodor shenangians #ttte #rws #ttte percy #ttte mavis #ttte gordon #ttte annie #ttte clarabel #ttte toby #swearing #lots of swearing #ask response

109 notes · View notes

youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sly like a... ? Part 2

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 2.1k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

It was your dream to convert a large warehouse on the outskirts of town into a home and education center for Hybrids. Somewhere they could learn to be self-sufficient. You would have professors and volunteers, teaching and fundraising, all for the day you could buy another warehouse on the other side of town. You wanted it to become the norm that these Hybrid facilities would build and grow in every city. Allowing the Hybrids to become an independent race no longer looked down upon by society.

You were on the last day of your heat and craving something savory. As it was late your best option was the convenience store that was always open late.

Things were falling into place as you received an email earlier that day confirming that all the items you had requested were acquired. That meant school books, equipment, and more. You were also granted the first loan for the Hybrids, a loan you would receive every term. The board wanted no less than five and no more than ten participants for an adequate examination of results.

You assumed for the program to be officially approved, you would have to show successful results from Hybrids with different backgrounds during this trial. That meant different ages and different upbringings. Wondering if it was worth visiting the adoption agency or perhaps a Hybrid store, it wouldn’t hurt for more variables.

Shaken from your thoughts by a shadowed figure rustling through the garbage, in a dark alley between the antiques and postal office. Your ears picked up the sound easily, feet scuffing to a halt on the pavement catching the Hybrid’s attention. Their eyes searched the dark for any sign of threat before falling upon you, a deep growl resonating on the wind. It was best to not get involved with stray Hybrids, they tended to be more violent. This is what you were doing the program for, to stop Hybrids from ending up homeless and on the streets. To prove that they aren’t dangerous and are capable of learning.

Struck by an idea, if you could get a Hybrid from the street to join the trial program, you could prove they weren’t violent and show that given the opportunity they could all learn and grow into members of society.

“Can I buy you dinner?” You called out, voice cracking from the cold. Your breath puffed out like smoke visible between you both. The night brought you more energy, it made you feel alive.

Cars passed, their headlights illuminating the entire alleyway and reflecting in his eyes a blood-red. He stalked forward, his body moving gracefully but you could see he was hurt, his shirt ripped and there was a strong scent of blood in the breeze. That was a downside to having heightened senses. You tried to control the disgusted look on your face, “I will pay and there is nothing else to it, just sit and have dinner with me, so I don’t look like a woman in her mid to late twenties eating alone at a convenience store”

He looked you up and down, it was then you noticed his features, he was a feline, not a common house cat. No, he was a big predator.

“Do I look like some charity case? Some pathetic creature who needs help from a human?” His words rumbled from his chest in a growl. You wanted to correct him that you weren’t exactly human yourself but decided against it. Stuck somewhere between Hybrid and human you didn’t fit in either category.

“What’s it to you? My reason is my reason, just take the free meal. Hell! Exploit me for a free meal, anything you want, go crazy.” You shrugged, trying desperately to charm him. He seemed to contemplate his choices for a moment before turning to walk away. You scrambled for your wallet and grabbed out twenty dollars, holding it out to him.

“Wait! At least take this; if you don’t want to eat with me, get something warm, and here is my card if ever you need help.”

He eyed the money but didn’t move to take it. Hoping he wouldn’t rip your arm off, you grabbed his hand. You knew it was risky. His fingers were cold, but you didn’t want to linger and make him mad, quickly placing the money on his palm with your business card.

“Have a good night, mister,” He nodded confused about the whole encounter, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving. It seemed even if you tried your best, it wouldn’t be enough to persuade him. He was too defensive, the best you could hope for was that he would stay safe in the cold.

What trials and tribulations must you go through to have these Hybrids trust and confide in you? Hopefully, it wouldn’t be this hard to get through to the group of Hybrids you were soon to obtain.

This was going to be a rather difficult experiment and you weren’t sure if it was going to go well but you hoped with every fiber of your being that you would see this through for the sake of the Hybrids.

That night you dreamed about the group of participants being hostile and unresponsive to the program, it did little to soothe your nerves the next morning. When you received an email about the new house. Jimin would have the key and would meet you outside later that day with the other Hybrids. No matter who they were, you were going to make sure they were achieving the best result they could.

The government had registered two Hybrids in your name, their files attached to the confirmation email. The two participants were so contrasting, Hoseok was a deer Hybrid, from a small farming family. The other was a Lion Hybrid by the name of Namjoon. He was from New Zealand and had participated in another government program regarding genius Hybrids.

Altogether, there were four: Namjoon the genius, Hoseok the country bumpkin, Taehyung, and Jimin. You decided to look for possible participants within the Hybrid store, and rehoming center. That would give you a wide variety of variables for the experiment; each would have a different background and would require different tools to help them.

You started at the nearest Hybrid shop. There were several rooms each with an observation window, a photo card, and a brief description of the Hybrid sitting, reading or playing video games inside. It was such a small space, how could they live in these tiny rooms every day until someone adopted them. Reading their descriptions by the windows you analyzed each of them, your attention caught by one playing video games. He had dark ears that stuck out from his dark hair. He seemed fun and you thought it would be easy to connect with him.

Hello, My name is Jungkook, I am twenty-three and I am a fully vaccinated Melanistic Jaguar.

You didn’t bother reading the rest, thinking you would like to learn about him properly, “Sir, I would like to adopt this Hybrid,” You declared, whilst walking towards the counter to begin the paperwork. Once everything was signed the young Jaguar boy was led from his small room. He looked nervous holding a small store backpack filled with all his essential items.

On the drive to the next location, you were the one doing most of the talking, receiving quiet one-word answers and small fidgets. He seemed excited when you finally parked the car, you guessed he was eager to see his new home.

However, as you walked towards the menacing rehoming center, he grew quieter and quieter, slowing to a stop before the entrance. Looking at his feet crying profusely, you realized how this must look. He must have thought he had done something wrong, how could he think you would buy him and rehome him on the same day.

“Jungkook, I am not abandoning you, I am picking up a brother for you to play with.” It took a few moments to console the young man. Wiping his tears and giving him a few pats on the head careful of his ears.

Deciding anyone younger than Jungkook would be too much to handle. “You have to help me find a big brother, someone you think will be really nice and that you like to play with, what do you think? Can you do that for me?”

Jungkook nodded, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Okay, I can do that,”

The inside of the rehoming center smelt like disinfectant, you explained you were looking for another Hybrid and were led to a large room. There were Hybrids of all ages all playing and entertaining themselves with different activities.

It was overwhelming even for you, so you grasped Jungkook’s hand and encouraged him to look around, “Hey, what about ping pong?” You grinned at Jungkook who smiled playing a few rounds with you, the two of you giggling.

“Have I told you I am the ping pong master,” an older Hybrid grinned, he had a striped tail. You handed over the paddle and stood near Jungkook. “Do you want to play a game?”

Jungkook nodded, was this boy unable to say no. Either way, the two were getting along quickly, the older Hybrid was very playful and funny, even as he lost you were holding your sides from the laughter and Jungkook seemed to grow really comfortable with him.

Talking to one of the volunteers she explained that Seokjin was a raccoon hybrid and the oldest in the center. She explained that he often took the younger hybrids under his wing. It was an easy decision to adopt him. While you were filling out the paperwork, Jungkook was telling you all about his match with Seokjin.

“And I got the winning shot,” He grinned, swinging his arm like he was hitting an invisible ping pong ball.

“He seems really fun, would he make a good big brother?” It was cute how he nodded wholeheartedly. “Jungkook why don’t you go tell him that he is coming home with us?”

He grew embarrassed again, his dark ears twitching but followed the volunteer nonetheless. You were quick to finish up the last of the paperwork before the two came back laughing volunteer in tow.

“Unbelie-Bubble” Seokjin said before squeaking in laughter. He had all of his things and like Jungkook was nervous, but he showed it through talking.

You felt good with your selection, there was a Hybrid for every walk of life and socio-economic background. This would be perfect for the trial. They all seemed like lovely young Hybrids and you could already see them forming friendships.

It was on your way out that you saw a familiar face struggling against Hybrid control. “This is your last time, you know what happens to strays.”

“Wait!” You shouted, everyone in the lobby froze turning to look at you, the cold room felt quite warm with all of the attention “He is mine”

They froze looking between you and the hybrid before letting him go curiously. The injured Hybrid staggered over to you, knowing this was his best chance at survival, “why didn’t you tell them my name?” you asked him curiously but he kept his head down.

“This white tiger Hybrid is yours?” The handler spoke in disbelief, practically accusing you of lying. “why is he not microchipped, or registered in our system?”

“I was supposed to register him last week when I got him but I had been busy with work, I would like to properly register him under my name today,” You didn’t break under this man's pressure, you could notice the more he held eye contact the more he seemed to falter himself. “so that you will stop taking him in when he is harmlessly walking the streets”

The man opened his mouth to argue but you blinked up at him, watching him lower his hand.

“I am so sorry miss, we didn't mean to cause you trouble?” It wasn’t exactly odd behavior, you often found your arguments nullifying this way. You liked to think that your self-confident stare was what made people give in.

“Miss we have just noticed some suspicious activity in your account it says you have adopted four Hybrids today,” The woman behind the desk said, “We are legally required to ask your intentions or we can detain the Hybrids from you”

Almost questioning her, you remembered the government was placing two Hybrids in your name; they would be arriving today as well. With a smile you removed a folder from your bag, “I have a grant from the government.” You said brandishing the signed document, “I will be placing these Hybrids in my care”

[First] [Next]

Tags: @simplymemyself @lolsiiike (please make sure you have tagging setting on so you get notified when the story updates)

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #BTSsly

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find it a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

310 notes · View notes

cinebration · 3 years

Text

Too Young (Forrest Bondurant x Reader) [Request]

I’m fine thank you can I describe my request because there is a no word for this at least i dont know I’m 21 so if you include this in imagine i will be really happy i love forrest bondurant he is shy caring strong and little bit mad giant bear a i want it fluffy and little bit angst I thought forrest wouldn’t want to love younger than him. I hope i can tell what i request because english not my native thank you so much again not much forrest imagine i really love this — Requested by @shooterere

This turned into something more than I expected. I had fun!

Warnings: none

Gif Source: fandomfatale

Pa operated one of the smaller bootlegging businesses in the county, but the moonshine he made was worth a hundred of the bottles being churned out by other operations in the immediate vicinity. People paid good money for your pa’s moonshine, though you wouldn’t know it to look at you and your family.

You lived in a ramshackle house on the edge of a farm known for producing one good crop for every five. You had just as many siblings, all of them younger than you, racing around the house like demons and driving both you and your beleaguered mother to wits’ end. So when Pa asked you to make a delivery, on account that the oldest of your brothers was a scant fourteen, and the fact that no one would stop you, you leapt at the opportunity. You put on your Sunday best, though it wasn’t much, and drove the old beat-up Ford truck down the country road into town.

It was there you met Forrest Bondurant. He operated the gas station you pulled up to after you delivered the moonshine. The smell of pie wafting from inside the restaurant behind the station was too good to resist.

He sat alone, his hat resting on the table in front of him. Glancing up when you entered, his brow furrowed as you slowly walked through the restaurant and up to the counter. You ordered a slice of the pie and a small cup of coffee, no cream, no sugar.

“This ain’t the watered-downed stuff,” the waitress told you.

“I know.”

The apple pie was thick and rich with apples and cinnamon flavoring. As you sat eating it, you swept your gaze around the room. There weren’t many people inside, but as soon as you fixed on Forrest, all else fell away. He met your eyes levelly, a frown pulling on his mouth. Tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear nervously, you returned to your meal.

He approached you a moment later, the scrape of his chair back against the wooden floor alerting you to his intentions. You swallowed thickly, working up your courage as your heart fluttered with hope.

“You Frost Farm’s oldest?” The way his voice purred made a shiver roll through you even as disappointment followed it. He wasn’t interested in you, only in who your pa was.

“Yeah,” you answered, looking down.

“What are you doin’ here?”

“Making a delivery.”

“Your pa sends you off to do that yourself?”

“My first time today, but he hurt himself, so I figure I’ll be doing it for some time.”

“How’d he hurt himself?”

“He fell,” you lied.

Forrest’s gaze burned through you. Standing firm, you ate the last of the pie and swigged it down with the dregs of the coffee, the bitter mingling with the sweet down your throat. Excusing yourself, you slipped off the stool and kept yourself from sprinting away to the beat of your thumping heart.

Forrest showed up the next day at the farm. You were out in the field, elbow-deep in the dirt, when the truck engine chugged up the dirt road. You recognized it vaguely as one you had seen parked outside the Bondurant gas station. You didn’t see who exited the vehicle.

Turning back to your work, you yanked out another weed and ignored the beating of the sun overhead.

When your stomach rumbled as the sun reached its zenith, you rubbed off the dirt on your apron and headed back inside for lunch. The truck was still parked outside the house.

As you neared the front door, it opened. You froze in your tracks. Forrest Bondurant stepped across the threshold, bidding your parents goodbye with some mumbled words. He paused when he saw you.

“Mr. Bondurant,” you said, nodding nervously.

He nodded back, putting the hat firmly on his head. His gaze swept over you. You became painfully aware of the dirt across your hands and knees and how it stained your apron and dress.

“I’m taking you for your other deliveries,” he mumbled suddenly. “’Til your pa gets better.”

You blinked in surprise, tried to find words. “Thank you.”

He nodded and stepped past you, leaving you stunned on the porch.

The first few deliveries, made in your truck, not Bondurant’s, passed in awkward silence. You didn’t quite mind it so much, if it weren’t for the fact that being nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with the man was sending your senses quite mad. Not even the Franklin boy from the farm next door had made you as deliciously nervous as Forrest did. Your head swam with it.

But the trips after that improved when you began talking to him. You didn’t say too much, because he seemed too quiet to listen to you ramble on. Rather than complain about your siblings or the lack of help for the farm, you focused instead on the moonshine business.

“I dunno know if Pa told you, but we got into trouble with the law,” you said after a delivery. “They wanted our earnings, but Pa told ’em that we don’t have enough to pay. They broke his leg for that.”

“Were you there?”

“Outside, looking between the slats. I waited ’til they were gone before I went in to help Pa.”

Forrest frowned. “Why were you there?”

“I work the stills.”

He fixed you with a stare.

“It’s nothing,” you assured him. “I like the work, honest. It’s very methodical, and I like that.”

Forrest remained silent for the rest of the drive ’til you neared town.

“Show me,” he said.

You hesitated. “But you’re the competition.”

“I won’t steal your secrets. I just want to see.”

You wanted to show him, to impress him, but the idea of the Bondurants taking over your stills or trying to use your methods nagged at you. The desire to please him won out. You turned the car toward the farm and drove well past it, deep into the woods extending beyond it. Then you hooked a right and stopped the truck.

From there, you walked Forrest all the way down into a small ravine that led to a cave in the hill swelling behind it. The cave smelled cool and a bit damp, but you had remedied that with some techniques to moderate the temperature. Forrest made a circuit of the room, eyeing your still critically as you walked him through parts of your process.

“Figure we could make gin this way eventually, too,” you said, “when they lift the Prohibition.”

He looked at you keenly.

“They’ll do it,” you assured him. “Otherwise we’ll have ourselves another war.”

He grunted noncommittally and took a swig from a nearby bottle, testing the quality of the moonshine. The soft light from the oil lamp you had lit bathed his face in warm golds. Caught up by the vision, you reached out and gently touched his cheek.

He froze, turned woodenly to you. The guarded look in his eyes discouraged you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“You’re too young.”

“I’m twenty-one.”

He shook his head.

Frustration welled up within you. You glanced up at him, your hand clenching into a fist at your side. “Too young. Too female. Too fragile. You sound like every other man I’ve ever talked to.”

He blinked in surprise, taken aback by your sudden emotion.

“I can do more than you think I can, and I’m not that fragile. I’ve had to grow up fast, because Ma’s too weak and Pa’s not got enough boys yet to help him.” You grabbed his hand suddenly, pressed his palm flat against yours. “Feel that? I don’t have soft hands. Those are working hands. When I’m not in the fields, I’m in here, making the best goddamn moonshine in the county. I don’t have time, you see, to waste on being young.”

Forrest stared into your face as the wind died out of you. You turned away, suddenly embarrassed by the outburst. “Get out of my workshop.”

He didn’t even hesitate. He walked right of the cave. You waited fifteen minutes before realizing that it was rude to let him walk all the way back to town on foot. You raced to the truck and drove down the road until you found him lumbering across the dirt. You drew up beside him and wordlessly opened the door. He hesitated before climbing up into the cab.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

You felt his eyes on you the entire drive, as though he were trying to keep you rooted to the spot. At last, you arrived at the gas station.

“You don’t come with me on deliveries anymore,” you said.

He didn’t get out of the car. “Who else has said those things to you?”

“What things?”

“About you being too weak.”

You shrugged. “Everyone. Probably your own damned brothers, for all I know. ‘Waste of a pretty face, making that girl work the fields. She ought to be providing a family.’ But I like the work. I like working.”

The cab filled with silence as Forrest stared out the windshield at the dark restaurant. Exhaustion settled in your bones from the emotional outburst and the pain of rejection.

“If you worked here,” Forrest said suddenly,” your hands wouldn’t be so rough.”

You frowned. “But I don’t work here.”

“I could get someone to work for your pa on the farm,” he continued in a low rumble. “And you could work here and your workshop.”

“Are you offering me a job?”

He grunted.

“Why?”

He shifted uneasily on the seat. “To keep you around, if you won’t let me make deliveries with you.”

The pieces didn’t quite fit together. “Why would you want to keep me around? I’m too young, you said.”

“I did,” he agreed.

“Then why?”

He fixed his eyes on you with a look that said, Do I really have to say it?

You met his gaze for a long while before slowly nodding, feeling something like hope flutter in your chest again. He nodded back, grunted quietly, and wished you a good night as he climbed out of the car.

#Forrest Bondurant x Reader #Forrest Bondurant #Forrest Bondurant imagine #Tom Hardy x Reader #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine #Lawless #requests

168 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Five

Chapter Five

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Summary: (fluff only) weekly Saturday reading only they are joined by an extra 15 lost boys, not just Spencer

Warnings (adding as they happen): fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers, library smut, oral (female receiving) lots and lots of fluff

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

He woke up Saturday morning to the sound of a bunch of voices coming from beyond the walls of his room. Only it wasn’t his room, it was the room he slept in when he stayed with Y/N and Amoreena, he hasn’t left since he arrived on Thursday and he had no plan to either.

They still hadn’t told her about their relationship, not wanting her to come crawling into bed with her mom in the morning to find Spencer there too. She wasn’t ready to explain to Amoreena what it meant for Spencer to be in her bed, how they were in love and that she might need to learn how to knock before entering.

So he slept in the spare room, completely contently because he knew she was only on the other side of the wall, instead of 30 minutes away like she would be when he slept at his own apartment.

It had been a week since he saw them reading in the park, and now they were his family. It was incredibly fast, anyone who heard the news would say so. But that’s how his life worked, he blew through everything incredibly fast, it only made sense for him to skip every step in the book and become a stepdad overnight.

He woke up then, missing Y/N and Amoreena as he thought about the last week. Finally getting dressed and peaking outside, through the crack in the blinds, to see what was going on on the farm.

There were a bunch of men in the field with the cows dropping new cattle off in a big truck as a bunch of children ran around the yard. Y/N wasn’t kidding when she said her 7 siblings had produced 15 cousins for Amoreena to play with. Children all between the ages of toddler and 7-years-old, screaming while they ran after Rufus and the cats, it was a pure dopamine rush to witness.

He found Y/N in the living room, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other, “good morning cutie, all the ruckus on the farm wake you up?” She did her best fake southern accent as she smiled at him. Beautiful as ever in the early morning sunshine.

He nodded with a yawn, sitting beside her and snuggling into her shoulder. She placed her mug in his hands so she could wrap an arm around him and pull him in closer, letting him take a sip of coffee and become a real person again.

He noticed she was reading a book he had never seen before, reading the pages and not know the words. It was a first for him.

“What’s that one about?”

Y/N closed it to let him look at the cover. It was a hand-bound book, wrapped in green fabric that was at least 30 years old and in well-loved condition. The gold lettering reading Amoreena, along with a pressed gold rose and the author's name. He had never heard of it before.

“My grandma was an aspiring writer and the reason I love books so much, her name was Peggy and she had a dream once about a wonderful little girl named Amoreena and the magical life she created for herself. She wrote it all down and my grandpa had it typed and bound for her, she was so proud of this book,” Y/N gushed, smiling as she held it to her chest softly, thinking of all the memories Spencer didn’t know yet.

“Really?” Spencer couldn’t help but smile at her.

She nodded softly, “she loved Elton John, so much so that when my sister Ashley came out she threw her a party. Almost all those kids out there are Ashley's, by the way, she went down the adoption and foster root after I did IVF.”

She pointed out the front window at all the people gathered on her land, “Ben and Dylan dropped their kids off too while they help dad and Evan with the farm. Those are my brothers in case you didn’t know their names yet, there’s also Carver and Francis but they don’t live as close.”

Her little life was just so perfect, “did they want to come with us to read this afternoon? We need some lost boys.”

“They’d love that, are you sure you can handle 16 kids between the two of us?” she smiled, pure love spreading through her body as she held him.

“They’re not so different from psychopaths right?” He teased, watching her settle against him even more as they enjoyed their Saturday together.

“What else can you tell me about your grandma?” He snuggled into her more as he asked, wanting to know as much about her happiness as possible.

“She was always listening to music, she loved Elton's song Amoreena the most. It was the song she played for the majority of my childhood. It only made sense for me to name my little miracle Amoreena too, cause I wouldn’t have her unless nanny suggested I have a baby.”

“I would have loved to meet her.”

Y/N’s smile changed then, “she would have loved you and your big mind.”

“My mom wants to meet you and Amoreena,” he announces softly, he hasn’t really told her anything about his family yet.

“What’s she like?”

“She has schizophrenia and Alzheimer’s and she lives in a care home in DC right now, I try and see her when I can but she has her own schedule so I have to fit around when she’s having a good day,” it was hard to explain it to most people, but not to her. He didn’t feel any shame or fear in introducing them. Y/N was the most loving human, and Amoreena was just the same.

“When is she free next?” A simple question that made him feel incredibly giddy.

“Tuesday from 3-5,” he snuggled in closer to her as she wraps her arm around him.

“We’ll pick Amoreena up from school after work and take her over,” Y/N agreed, their lives intertwining like they were always meant to.

Like she was the ivy on his old cottage, she took him in and made him her own, wrapping herself all around him and never letting him go again.

He basically finishes her coffee while she holds him on the couch. The sound of the kids outside making them laugh every once in a while, dogs barking and cows mooing, the farm was alive and roaring while they enjoyed each other's company.

“Did you bring your costume for the reading today?”

He sat right up then, looking at her like she lost her mind, “of course I did, I wouldn’t have Penelope spend a week tracking down a Captain Hook costume just to forget it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “you didn’t?!”

He simply nodded with a cheeky grin, “come on Tinker Bell, everyone knows she had a thing for Hook.”

“Who didn’t? He was the first and last bad boy I was interested in, I typically go more for Milo’s and Ariel’s; full of adventure and always learning something new,” Y/N teased him.

“Mhm, I always had a thing for Aladdin and Belle in search of far off lands and happy endings,” he mused, making her smile just as much as he was, “but for real it was between Hook and Wendy for my costume,” he made her laugh again, wanting to hear it for the rest of time.

“You still can, I have a blue nightgown you can borrow,” it was so easy for them to flirt, it fit into their conversation so simply it felt like they had been together forever.

He couldn’t help leaning in to kiss her, resting her back against the couch softly as she held onto him. He loved kissing her, she tasted like coffee and happiness every single time. She made the cutest sounds when they would make out like she was surprised by it or she wasn’t used to it at all.

She made him feel like he was young again like he was 21 and in love for the first time. All his trauma disappeared and that Spencer who used to stare back at him in the mirror was gone now. That guy packed his bags and left the farm to never be seen again.

Good fucking riddance is all he had to say.

He was happy, he enjoyed being happy and he was going to stay happy. It was the only goal he had going forward, and as long as he was in her embrace, surround by the laugher of her child and family, he knew it would be possible.

Amoreena came running inside then, finding the two of them making out on the couch before they could part from each other.

“Ewww!” She cried, jumping on top of the two of them and knocking the wind out of Spencer.

“Get off,” Y/N tried to speak as she was crushed by the two of them. “Mom down!”

Spencer picks Amoreena up then, taking her away from the couch and spinning her around like she’s an airplane. She cheers and cheers and doesn’t want him to put her down because it’s so fun. The next thing he knows he’s being dragged outside to twirl all the kids around like they’re Peter Pan, flying through the air on their way to Neverland.

He’s surrounded by giggles and tickles fights, he’s tackled down against the dirt as a herd of tiny children dog pilled him. Laughing until he cried, feeling more joy than humanly possible and then Y/N’s telling them all to get ready to he’d to the park.

Coming down the stairs in a pirate costume to a bunch of screaming kids was an experience and a half. Spencer couldn’t believe how happy it made them all to imagine Captain Hook had broken into the house and Amoreena, or Peter Pan as she corrected him, chased him outside with all the lost boys.

He took a moment to learn all their names, all 15 of them, however, unlike the cats, they had relatively normal people names.

Kate, Cade, Jet, Lauren, Cassie, Sara, Evan, Benny, Olivia, Jessie, Owen, Maddie, Gwen, August, and Parker, were the cutest little family of cousins. some looked like Amoreena, some looked like their own mothers, a handful of them were adopted out of the country, they were the most perfect cast of lost boys.

He's never had any cousins, no pets, no siblings. His life never felt lonely until he realized what he missed out on.

“Dad,” Amoreena whispered as she tugged on his shirt lightly, “look!”

She pointed towards the house where Y/N was standing. When she said she was going as Tinker Bell he really didn’t think she meant looking exactly like Julia Roberts at the end of Hook.

She looked magical in her beautiful white dress, curly hair with the most perfectly placed flowers and flawless wings wrapped around her shoulders. She was a vision standing on the porch, waiting for him to pick his jaw up off the floor and compliment her.

“Tink,” the words are more like air, soft and barely there.

“Is Captain Hook being nice? Or should we take him to the pond and let the Alligators deal with him?” Y/N teased, marching down the stairs and poking Spencer's chest.

“Ouch,” he teased her, holding his hand over his heart to make her feel bad.

But she didn’t, “some Pirate you are,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him before taking Amoreena’s hand and running off down the trail towards the main house, everyone following her lead.

Nanny packed enough snacks for all 16 kids, and a little extra just in case. Spencer slipped the lunch box over his shoulder and they made their way towards the adventure. Y/N pulling a wagon just in case the littlest ones didn’t want to walk anymore. It was spectacular.

Y/N stopped then, pretending to stand like an army man turning around abruptly to look at the troop. “Lost boys, are we ready?”

“Yes, Tinker Bell!” They cheered back.

“On my lead, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4,” she marched, bringing her knees up high as they all followed her down the path. “We’re following the leader, the leader, the leader,” she began to sing.

Spencer was in awe, his heart felt like it was going to explode as he watched everyone follow her. Singing along as they marched their tiny little butts down to the park.

“We’re following the leader wherever she may go!” Amoreena yelled the lyrics back, leading the pack as Peter Pan should.

“Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day Tee dum, tee dee, it's part of the game we play Tee dum, tee dee, the words are easy to say Just a teedle ee dum, a teedle ee do tee day

Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee dum We're one for all, and all of us out for fun We march in line and follow the other one With a teedle ee do, a teedle ee do tee dum”

It was like magic, they all knew the words and they sang the whole way down the path. Every verse and then repeating it. Not a single kid strayed from the path, no one complained about sore feet or hot backs, they loved their Aunty Y/N and so did Spencer.

“We’re off on an adventure, adventure, adventure,” Y/N changed the words, making him smile as she brought happiness into the world. “We’re off on an adventure to read out in the sun! Tee dum, tee dee, a teedle ee do tee day…”

Every single time he thought she had given him the best day of his life, she manages to outdo herself.

—

They barely listened to the story, it was a disaster of epic proportions but they tried. 15 kids is a lot to handle as an ex FBI agent and a librarian, they had lunch and instead ran around the field playing lost boys instead. It was still an amazing afternoon.

He was going to be covered in bruises the next morning. He had been kicked, poked, trampled, jumped on, the whole 9 yards. They were the most energetic bunch in the whole world, and then they came home to ice cream.

“Y/N,” Spencer finally pulled her aside when all the kids were preoccupied with their cold snack after a hot day.

“Yes, cutie?” It was a nickname that was sticking, much like pretty boy, and he didn’t mind it at all.

“We’re going to need more than 2 songs tonight to get her to go to bed,” he teased, stepping into that step-dad role with ease.

She couldn’t stop smiling at him, wrapping him up in her arms gently so he didn’t crush her fairy wings. “We’ll take her swimming, that’ll tire her out instead. Are you lookin’ for some alone time?”

“I love her dearly, but I can’t kiss you as much when she’s around,” he whispered before pecking her quickly and hearing the group of lost boys pretend to be sick.

“Just because he’s my dad doesn’t mean you have to be gross like your mom and dad, mom,” Amoreena’s smart mouth making them both shake their heads and laugh.

“What would you do if I did this?” Y/N teased before dipping Spencer back like a princess and kissing him, he stuck his foot out in shock as she held him there.

“Ewww!!” All the kids yelled as she returned him to his feet.

“Or this?” Y/N pulled him into another kiss, her leg popping like Princess Mia’s in the princess diaries.

Amoreena and her cousins were all screaming then, laughing at how gross their aunt and her new boyfriend were being. Used to it clearly, their grandparents were just as in love and watching from the porch as they held each other on the swing.

“I love you,” Spencer announced, loud enough for all to hear without a care in the world.

“You better,” she smiled. “I love you too, cutie,” she added before kissing him one last time.

His life felt perfectly complete.

Y/N’s brothers were incredibly kind just like her. He learned that Ashley was the oldest with 5 kids and her wife Susie, then Ben who was 46 and his wife Shannon, they had 3 kids. Dylan and Laurie had 4 and Even, her twin brother had 3.

Turns out her mom had 2 sets of twins back to back, 7 children and only 5 pregnancies. It felt crazy for him to think about having that many people in his life for his whole life, he wouldn’t have known what to do with anyone more than just his mother growing up.

Spencer helped Bob with the barbecue, they made burgers and hotdogs for all 16 of the children while they continued to run through the fields. They had enough energy to last them 5 straight days of chaos. It was amazing.

Y/N and Spencer managed to wander off while all the kids ate, sitting under a tree with their dinner so they could finally have some time alone together.

She was beautiful, sitting in the afternoon amber glow as she tried to keep her hair from blowing in her face. Tucking the strands behind her ears so she could eat her dinner in peace before spencer handed her the hair tie on his wrist. Then she got ketchup on her cheek, seemingly on purpose as she smiled at him and laughing as Spencer wiped it off with his thumb. He was so in love he felt stupid, smiling at her like he’s never seen another person before, absolutely enamoured.

“Derek and his wife wanted to come over tomorrow and have his son meet Amoreena if that’s okay?”

Her face lit up, “his son is the one named after you right? Not your godson?”

He nodded with yet another smile, his lips were going to fall off at this point. “Yeah, he’s the sweetest little guy, Hank’s never been to a farm before.”

“You tell them our gates are always own to new minds and pure hearts,” she smiled. “That’s what nanny used to say.”

He leans in and kisses her then, resting his forehead against hers as she held his cheek in her free hand, smiling ever so softly as she stared into his eyes, they didn’t need words, he knew she loved him too. A week of pure bliss had passed within the blink of an eye, and they still had forever to go.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @manuosorioh @reidsfish @mochionly (send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list, I don't always see every reply! i love you guys thank you so much for reading)

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

163 notes · View notes

imagineanythings · 3 years

Text

Whiskey Warmth Chapter 1 (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter 1/2

Before long, he could barely hear the gentle, even wisps of her breathing over the truck’s engine and there was that burning feeling again, whiskey in his throat. It went down smooth and pooled in a ball of warmth in his stomach. He didn’t hate it. Daryl has always been quiet, stoic, and a realist. On the road he meets someone with a completely different outlook on life. She's a rare ray of sunshine a world that loves to block out all light, but can she keep that light alive?

Follows the plot of the show from post CDC up until Alexandria

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

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

She was all sunshine and light. Daryl had never really met anyone he’d consider an unrelenting optimist until she came along, covered in walker guts with a smile on her face that could make the world stop. They had picked her up on the road, as they drove aimlessly trying to decide what to do after the CDC. Daryl had been the one to spot her. She was walking along the side of the road, covered in remnants of the dead, looking like she hadn’t slept or had a bite to eat in days. But as soon as their little caravan showed signs of slowing, she broke out into a broad, toothy smile and suddenly Daryl was sucking wind like he had been struck in the gut. She stepped up to the window of his truck and stuck her thumb out like a hitchhiker and before falling into a small cascade of laughter at her own gesture.

“Sorry, that was really lame.” She said, still giggling. Her voice and laugh rolled like gravel, it had clearly been a while since she had spoken, but there was a brightness to her lilting tone that had Daryl leaning in to hear more, as if a few more words from her might just set the world right again. “Where’re ya headed?” Daryl finally managed to ask, once he had collected himself. “Anywhere” she said, no hesitation in her voice. She was peering into the cab of the truck, looking around, getting a read on the situation. She seemed satisfied. “I got room,” Daryl offered and there was that smile again. He ducked his head and focused on his hands in his lap. No gaze like that, no smile like that could ever really be meant for him. He squirmed uncomfortably under that kind of focus. She quickly slid into the cab of the truck and placed her pack down at her feet. With a contented sigh she settled in and he chanced a glance at her again but found her eyes still on him. Her smile had dimmed but the corners of her mouth were still distinctly upturned as she watched him eyes still alight. She wasn’t just glancing at him either, the way most people did before they move on to whatever’s really important. She was actually seeing him, observing, like she actually wanted to know more about him. He could practically feel her eyes combing over every inch of him, searching for all the answers he wasn’t willing to give up out loud. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the road as quickly as he could, getting the truck moving again.

“Thank you,” She said quietly. It was genuine and possibly even a little desperate. He didn’t want to think about how long she had been alone out there, what had led to her being out there like that, all alone. “-‘S nothing” He said, shaking his head a bit, still refusing to meet her gaze. He could almost feel the heat of that smile singe the hair off of the back of his neck. “Y/N L/N” She said, and held her hand out to him. His eyes slid over to her quickly as he shook her hand before focusing again on the road. He tried not to notice the way the contact seemed to burn the same way her smile did. “Daryl Dixon.” He responded and he swore he didn’t even have to look, he could just feel that goddamn lazer beam of a smile lighting up the cab again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her nod to herself a bit, satisfied with the interaction, before leaning back in her seat and pulling the baseball cap she had on down over her eyes. “Thanks again, Dixon,” She said with a soft exhale before settling in comfortably. Before long, he could barely hear gentle, even wisps of her breathing over the truck’s engine and there was that burning feeling again, whiskey in his throat. It went down smooth and pooled in a ball of warmth in his stomach. He didn’t hate it.

The group took to her instantly. She was always there with a smile and a solution, a bright side, another option when things looked grim. She was also a bit of a jack of all trades it seemed. She knew her way around a knife, could tell you what every single plant in the forest was and whether you could eat it or not, had a little sewing kit that she used to make small repairs to everyone’s clothes, could start a fire with just about nothing, the list went on and on. While she wouldn’t give up what she did before the end, she did reveal that she was a girl scout as a kid and had picked up a lot from that. She was great with Carl and Sophia and seemed to be the positive energy that was sorely needed to balance out their perpetually moody and brooding group. It wasn’t like the group was entirely falling apart before, but as soon as she showed up it felt like everyone was much closer, like there was just maybe something other than unfortunate shared circumstances keeping everyone together.

Then Sophia went missing, and Carl was shot, and suddenly everything was falling apart again. At least the farm felt like a safe place to exist for the moment while everything else went to shit. And then Daryl had to go and be an idiot and fall on his own damn arrow and that idiot Andrea fucking shot him, and his sorry ass was stuck in bed instead of out there looking for Sophia.

He woke up in a bed in the farmhouse to someone’s gentle touch on his face. She came into focus slowly with the rest of the world, a bit blurry and so soft around the edges. It was all her. All he could feel were her fingertips brushing against his skin, her breath the sole sound in his ear, that soft sort of floral scent that followed her around seemed to swaddle him. When his eyes finally came into focus, there was only her frame hovering over him, changing the bandages on his head wound. As she saw his eyes open her face lit up and he winced.

“Oh god I’m so sorry! I’m just making sure your dressings are clean, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She said quickly, her bright smile replaced with a deep look of concern and Daryl felt something like shame twist up in his stomach. The smooth burn in his throat from her touch and her gaze had already slid downwards and turned into a knot. “Yain’t hurtin’ me woman,” He said, wincing again involuntarily at how harsh the words had come out. He felt her touch lighten despite his words. She sighed and continued to work in silence. The air felt empty without her usual positive chatter, her gentle but firm affirmations, or her kind reassurance. Daryl was never one for conversation but he’d be lying if he said he’d have objected to the sound of her voice at that moment. Instead, when she was done, she simply placed a gentle hand on his arm, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and whispered a quiet “you get some rest now, Dixon” far too close to his ear before flashing him another heart-stopping smile and leaving him to wonder if he had maybe just up and died when Andrea shot him. She had been in and out constantly, bringing him food, changing his bandages, just checking up on him in general. She would sit in the room with him for long chunks of time, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in silence next to his bed while she patched up peoples’ clothes.

He had just woken up after a hazy, fitful sleep to find her sitting by his bed once again, eyes focused on her sewing. She was humming gently. It was quiet, but he could hear that familiar sweetness in the tune, the brightness that always radiated through a room in her crystal clear laugh, now present in her low and soft humming. If he had focused a bit harder, he was fairly certain he would have been able to make out the song she was humming. It was something he knew from before, but she stopped before he could manage to recall what it was.

“You’re awake!” She said excitedly, “I hope I didn’t wake you, I swear I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” she looked genuinely nervous and apologetic as the words seemed to just spill out of her mouth. Daryl had never been one for speaking up, but the reassurance was slipping from his lips before he had any chance to stop it.

“Naw, weren’t sleepin’ much anyway...” He paused for a moment and was surprised to find that he didn’t want to settle into silence like he usually did. Instead he kept going, “... ‘s nice tho... yer voice” She blushed at that, and if he had thought her smiles packed heat, he was worried he might downright melt from the feeling of making her blush like that.

“It’s nothing,” She spoke so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. She stayed quiet for a moment before shaking her head a bit and focusing back on Daryl. “How are you feeling?” She asked like she genuinely wanted to hear the answer. And not just as a nurse either, not for her medical opinion but because she really cared about how he was feeling. He wanted to pull his head under the covers like a little kid and hide from that kind of attention. But her eyes were wide on him and he couldn’t bear to let her down.

“-’M alright,” He said with a sigh, “wish ya’d just let me outta this bed,” he was being childish and he knew it, but he was too cooped up (and now even more skittish under her gaze) to care. She simply quirked an eyebrow at him and let out a stifled but still achingly melodious giggle.

“You are a handful, you know that Dixon?” She said with a shake of her head. Her sewing had been abandoned on her lap and she reached over to check the dressing on his head. He cleared his throat as she gingerly pulled the bandages off and looked at his wound.

“What were ya singin’?...when I woke up... sounded familiar,” he asked, anything to distract from her caring and gentle touch burning holes in his skin, or her face so close to his as she carefully looked at his wound.

“Oh” she paused for a moment, thinking. She had been in the middle of wrapping his head back up and she had frozen with her hands resting on either side of his face. He didn’t know how he had somehow managed to make this situation even more painful, but he was stuck practically holding his breath, eyes fixed on a little silver pendant swinging back and forth from a chain on her neck so he didn’t have to make eye contact. Finally, after a small infinity, she blessedly began to move again.

“It was Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls,” She said with a fond smile. “One of my favorite songs back in college,” He nodded to himself as the song came back to him, but he didn’t say anything else. She was still so close to his face, like she was trying to see past whatever walls he had built up. Before he could pull away or try to squirm under her gaze she was already leaning back, picking up her sewing again. He didn’t know what she had managed to see, but he was sure it hadn’t been something good.

“Wound looks pretty clean if you ask me. Other one was looking good earlier too, shouldn’t be long now before you’ll be back on your feet.” She said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He grunted something affirmative and appreciative and she couldn’t stifle the laugh that slipped past her lips.

“What’re ya laughing at, woman?” He tried to be at least a bit intimidating, but she just looked at him with that real, genuine smile that he never quite could fathom being directed at him and a fondness in her eyes that was missing mere moments ago.

“I know you don’t like talking much, and that’s ok. I can do plenty of talking for the two of us. One of these days though Dixon, mark my words, I’ll get some full and complete sentences outta you,” Her tone was slightly mischievous, like she was taking on a great ambition, and hell, maybe she was. Especially after that proclamation, Daryl was determined not to make it easy for her. The slight smile he felt himself showing surprised even himself. He gave another purposeful, but this time definitely skeptical grunt and there was that laugh again. He was glad he couldn’t see himself because he was fairly certain that he was beet red from head to toe.

“Well now you’re in for it Dixon, I’ve decided to make it my personal mission. One of these days you’re gonna look around you won’t know how or when it happened, but all of a sudden you’ll realize that I’ve become your best friend.” He was slightly shocked at this proclamation, but tried his best to keep his expression steady and unconcerned.

“Ain’t really worthy of that title,” he said, he couldn’t stop from dropping his eyes down to his hands. “And that is exactly why you need a best friend like me,” She said. He didn’t have to look up to see her smile.

The farm fell. Shit hit the fan, which was something Daryl was well accustomed to even before the world ended. They made it out alive. They survived on the road for months. Everyone wasted away but they made it through. They had cleared out a prison. Things were finally looking up.

Daryl sat in one of the guard towers on watch. He would probably sleep up there too. He couldn’t get used to sleeping in a cell, even if the doors were taken off, made him feel trapped, like a caged animal. He was scanning the tree line when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Y/N poked her head in with a smile and he nodded to her as a hello.

“Hey Dixon, Rick told me you came right up here after your run?” She said cautiously. He nodded accompanied by a vague grunt. “He also told me that you had a nasty looking gash on your arm that you refused to let anyone check on?” She asked and he sighed, holding his arm out for her to see. “Got caught on some glass gettin’ out through a broken window. Was careless and stupid,” He said nonchalantly. She sighed and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch at the unexpected contact but he could tell by her shaky exhale that she noticed. She gave him a gentle nudge downwards and he got what she was asking. He sat down beside her on the edge of the platform, legs dangling below them. She took his forearm in her hands and examined the gash, which began a little below his elbow and extended an inch or two down his arm. It wasn’t too long, but it ran deep.

“It’s not too bad. You’ll only need a few stitches,” She said, turning away. He was about to grumble something about not bothering the old man when she turned back to him, first aid supplies in hand. “Ya don’t-” He started, but she raised a hand and cut him off. “I got you, Dixon, let me get you fixed up” She sounded stern, yet somehow still gentle and he had to force himself to shut his mouth which had, against his own wishes, just sat there, hanging open at her statement. “This is gonna sting a bit, I’m sorry,” She said, dabbing some antiseptic on the gash. She began stichting and he hissed through his teeth. She seemed to wince at his expression of pain and he immediately felt bad for worrying her. Getting the actual damn gash had hurt far more than this. She was quick and gentle and it was over within a few minutes. She let out a shaky breath when she snipped the thread and he looked down at her hands which definitely had not been shaking that much when she put the sutures in him.

“Ya did good,” he said quietly, wanting to reassure but not quite sure how. She looked up at him with a soft smile. “Sorry, I hope they didn’t hurt too bad. Haven’t done them much on real people, I got nervous.” She admitted. He shook his head. “Weren’t nothin’” He reassured and she let out another long breath. “Good.” She said, and he had a feeling that was more for herself than for him.

They sat in silence for a while, legs hanging over the edge of the platform, staring off at the treeline. The quiet felt more safe and comfortable than anything Daryl had experienced in a long time. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her turn to look over at him, so he kept his eyes focused on the treeline, afraid of what awaited in her gaze. She sighed and very slowly leaned down to rest her head on his shoulder. His entire body went stiff for a moment, almost entirely reflexively, before he could manually force himself to relax a bit. He took a deep breath and tried to let some of the tension leave his body, but it was hard when the weight of her head was right there on his shoulder and he could feel her hair brush up against his neck. He thought he was going to go crazy trying to fixate on all of it when she finally spoke.

“Daryl...” She started. She sighed quietly and he could almost hear her brain whirring, searching for what exactly she wanted to say. He could tell by her second, slightly more defeated sigh that she hadn’t quite found it. “Do you think this could really be home?” She finally asked. He let out a sigh of his own, grateful for something to focus on besides the contact but unsure of how to answer.

“Don’t know,” He said after a brief moment of contemplation. “Neither do I,” she said the words so quietly he wasn’t sure if he’d heard them correctly. He didn’t really know how to respond. She was usually the one who was so sure. She was always there with a smile and reassurance that this was the moment where everything would go right, that it would all be ok in the end. He didn’t realize that he didn’t really know how to have that kind of hope if she wasn’t the voice in his ear reassuring him.

They sat in silence for a few more moments before she sat up. He looked over at her sudden movement and she had a scrunched up, determined look on her face. Her eyes were dead set on the horizon. “It will be. It will be because you’re here and Rick’s here and we’re going to make it home.” She seemed to be reassuring herself much more than Daryl, but he didn’t mind hearing it. She looked over at him when she was done speaking and flashed him an appreciative smile. When he turned back towards the horizon and away from her gaze she leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. As she stood up to head back down she called over her shoulder, “See ya later best friend! Take it easy on those stitches! And get some sleep! I’ll send someone to take over for you in a couple of hours!” She turned and headed down the stairs when she was done and Daryl let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in since she had taken his injured arm so gently in her hands.

She got into a habit of checking in on Daryl whenever he was on watch. She would sit with him and talk to him about whatever was on her mind, or whatever was happening with the rest of the group. He would talk too occasionally. He mostly gave quick responses to whatever she was saying but every now and then she reached in with nimble fingers and pulled something more real out of him, either a story about Merle, or some thoughts on the rest of the group, even a promise to give her a proper lesson in tracking and using a crossbow. She had been fascinated with his bow since the first time she’d seen him shoulder it and was constantly harassing him for lessons. He figured now that they were in the walls not on the run, worrying about staying alive from one moment to the next and they actually had the time and energy it couldn’t hurt to see what she could do. Before he knew it, that little offhand promise had transformed into a routine, they’d work with the bow or go out and track and hunt in the early morning and she’d always come up to see him in the guard tower as the sun began to fall over the horizon. Sometimes she’d bring dinner for him, or her sewing, or just herself. If he was being completely honest, he didn’t mind any of those options.

“Daryl Dixon, I swear to god, you better start being more careful out there,” her words were chiding but there was no harshness in her tone. If that weren’t enough, her exasperated smile definitely gave her away. “Told ya, I always do my best. Shit happens tho” He said, trying to swat her hand away as she tried to move his hair out of the way to get a look at the gash on his forehead.

“Hey!” her laughter filled the air as she grabbed his wrist to keep him from swatting. “You know that I’m not leaving until I make sure you’re all good, so you might as well make it easy on yourself and let me do my thing. Don’t make me get Rick up here to hold you down.” She had put on a scowl, and he could tell she was trying to be menacing, but it was an ill-fitting mask on her. As soon as he held his hands up in surrender it was thrown away in favor of her usual smile. She moved in closer to him, moving up on to her knees to get a better look. As she gently began to clean and inspect the wound he found himself face to face again with that pendant he had noticed at the farm, and while on the run, and if he was being completely honest most days in the prison. He had always wondered what it was, but had never seen it up close since that first time in bed at the farm. It was a symbol made up of two hands holding a heart with a crown on top. The silver pendant seemed as much part of her body as her eyes, or her hands. He never saw her without it.

“Seems like it wasn’t too deep, you don’t need stitches but I do want to put a butterfly bandage on there just to be safe.” She spoke while she looked through the first aid kit, and lapsed back into silence as she found what she needed and went back to work. Before he could really think about what he was doing, Daryl reached out and gingerly took her pendant between his fingers. Her eyes snapped downwards, confusion written across her features.

“Sorry,” Daryl said, letting go quickly, mentally kicking himself for grabbing it in the first place. “-’s just a nice necklace,” he said, eyes dropping to his hands, which lay folded in his lap. She smoothed the bandage once more before sitting back down next to him. “Thank you. My dad gave it to me when I was a kid,” She said, her face a picture of fond heartache. “What’s the symbol for?” Daryl asked quietly. “It’s called a claddagh, it’s Irish. The hands represent friendship, the heart, love, and the crown, loyalty. My dad ran a marathon in Dublin when I was young. I think it was sort of a bucket list thing. He brought back this necklace for me. I used to wear it everywhere as a kid, I mean I really loved it. Then in high school I thought I was too cool and it got shoved in a drawer for a while until I found it again in college. I’ve worn it ever since.” She brushed away a tear that was poised to fall and sighed. “Especially when shit went down, I don’t know where my parents are, if they’re alive at all...” she paused, chest heaving, words thick. He could see her denying tears. “Still feels like they’re with me,” she finished with a soft smile. How she could manage to smile after that, he had no idea.

“Sorry to bring it up,” he sighed. “Didn’t mean to make ya sad,” He dropped his eyes once again. “Stop doing that.” She sounded genuinely annoyed. He looked up, confused. “Doin’ what?” He couldn’t fight the scowl that made its way onto his face. “Gettin’ all down on yourself! Whenever you’re beating yourself up you always look down like that! Like you’re ashamed, and I’m sick of it! Dixon, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of!” She was almost yelling now, and he had to fight the urge to lower his gaze again. He settled for scowling at the horizon. He stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek and turned his head so he was forced to meet her eyes.

“Daryl, you’re the best of us. I mean it. It kills me that you don’t see it. Please, just...” She trailed off, searching his eyes as he practically held his breath. Maybe if he didn’t breathe, didn’t let anything in or out, she wouldn’t be able to see through him, whatever ridiculous and righteous illusion she had created in her mind would remain untouched, unharmed. “For me Daryl, please, try not to be so hard on yourself.” “I don’t-” he started, trying to look down again but she immediately cut him off. “No. I’m not done.” She held his gaze with a look that said Look away Dixon, I dare you. “I don’t pick just anyone to be my best friend, Dixon. Believe it or not I don’t just go around gettin’ chummy with every redneck who picks me up from the side of the road.” He couldn’t help the surprised, sort of strangled laugh that escaped him. His reaction drew a gentle, warm smile across her lips and even after a year of knowing her he still couldn’t fight the heat that ran beneath his skin whenever she directed that small slice of sunlight towards him.

She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek, something she had incorporated into their little routine (not that it made his heart slow or his face flush any less when she did it the first time or the 50th time), and sighed. “I’m sorry for flipping out on you. I just care about you and I hate seeing you doubt yourself like that.” “-‘S ok.” He said, forcing himself to hold her gaze and not lower his head like he wanted so badly to do. She narrowed her eyes a bit as she studied his face, and he could practically hear her mind moving, analyzing him. It scared him, he wasn’t used to feeling so seen. She seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to say any more and pulled him into a hug. He stiffened immediately, and she pulled back slightly before he forced himself to relax. She let out a small laugh that was more awkward than genuine, no humor behind it.

“I feel like I’ve done enough damage for one day,” Voice apologetic as she moved to stand but instinctively Daryl reached out and grabbed her wrist. He was careful to keep his grip light, not forcing her to stay but asking. “Ya haven’t. Ya could stay... if ya want” He said, voice barely above a whisper. She broke out into a full grin and lowered herself back down to sit beside him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and he felt some of the tension in his body melt away. “You really are the best of us.” She said with a small sigh, and he responded with a small grunt that drew a burst of giggles out of her, which slowly dissolved into comfortable silence as the sun began to disappear over the horizon.

For a while this life at the prison almost felt too good to be true. Of course it was. Reality always came crashing down, weighing heavily on his shoulders in the end.

The governor came crashing through the gates with a goddamn tank and everything went to shit again. Except this time he didn’t have her there to reassure him that it would all turn out alright. He had Beth, which was a close second in terms of optimism, but then suddenly he didn’t even have her and everything felt like it was falling apart around him. He was completely alone, his family all likely dead, and he had fallen in with a group that made him feel more like his daddy than he had ever wanted to feel. He stuck it out with those assholes for no reason other than that tiny glimmer of hope that Beth was still out there somewhere. If nothing else, he owed it to that girl to get her out of whatever mess he landed her in in the first place. And then he found Rick, Carl, and Michonne and suddenly his reasons to live had multiplied by three. Terminus was a flash of hope. It didn’t bring him any closer to finding Beth, but Rick pointed out that if anyone from the group survived and found the signs, they would likely be heading there as well.

The train tracks had been easy enough to follow. As the compound came into view, for just a brief moment Daryl allowed himself to hope. But once inside that hope began to very quickly whittle away. It was too quiet, and there was something off about that Gareth guy. And suddenly they were spotting Hershel’s pocket watch, and the riot gear, and Maggie’s poncho and a silver necklace with a claddagh charm and then Daryl felt himself begin to drown. Everything that had kept him going, the small spark of hope that he had allowed to live inside him had been drenched. Now all he felt was steam rising, his insides boiling, but before he could do anything about it the gunfire began and then they were herded towards a boxcar.

Daryl wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but his whole family corralled into one place had definitely not been it. They were all there except Carol and baby Judith, two losses which weighed heavily on the entire group. But everyone else was there and safe and alive. He scanned the room, giving hugs and looking people up and down, making sure everyone looked ok. He moved slowly through the car, through each of his family members, before he came to a stop in front of a figure balled up in the corner. Her face was hidden but her frame was unmistakable.

“Y/N?” he asked, and her name on his lips again felt like coming back to a place you’ve once called home. She slowly picked your head up, and he immediately noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and the way her cheeks looked gaunt and hollow. But when she saw that it was really him, that Daryl Dixon was really standing in front of her, her eyes widened. She leapt to her feet with surprising speed and threw her arms around him. His arms wrapped around her body and when he lifted her off of her feet for a moment he could have sworn that the weight of the world wasn’t all that much to hold. She pulled away and placed her hands on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe it’s really you” Tears began to pool in her eyes and she pulled him back in for another hug, face buried in his shoulder. He could feel her shoulders shake and a patch of wetness grow on his shirt. “Thought you were gone.” She whispered. He shook his head and brought a hand up to stroke her hair. “Naw, ain’t gettin’ rida me that easy now, womanl” He said quietly. After a few more moments she pulled away and just stared at him with those wide, shocked eyes. “Promise I ain’t goin’ anywhere, I’ll still be here if ya blink” She nodded and let out a shaky exhale. “I missed you,” she whispered just as Rick and Carl made their way over to give her a hug. “Missed ya too” he said.

He took a few steps back, and only when he stepped away did he notice the cold emptiness nipping at him, like something was missing. He watched her hug Rick and Carl, he watched the most important people in the world to him all come back together in a single moment, and yet he felt cold. She was crying. She was hugging people. She was telling everyone how much she missed them.

She wasn’t smiling.

#The walking dead #Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixonxreader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #reader/daryl dixon #reader insert #slow burn #friends to lovers #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #writing #walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon has a huge crush

91 notes · View notes

whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 31: Flowers

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

It's time for the CHOICE. You reminisce, finally get the truth of that big memory. Maybe getting a little bit closer to Kung Lao. There's a storm coming and it's time to get ready.

A/N: Wow, the choice is here! I told you it was a weird normal choice haha. I hope you guys enjoy, this has been a blast. Each choice WILL be different enough that the story is still worth reading on both ends. They will have dramatic differences, honestly. Thank you guys so much for reading. This has been such fun.

Schedule change: The Oncoming Storm will diverge into two separate stories here- Firestorm and Lightning. Lightning updates on Monday and Firestorm on Friday. I have a few new stories in the works too so this will give me more time to plan and write. It's only one less day posting, honestly.

Part 30 Lightning Part 1 (Kung Lao) Firestorm Part 1 (Liu Kang) Volcanic Charge Part 1 (Both) Chapter Index

You tried to rest, you really did, but you were having a hard time being alone with only your thoughts for company. For some time, you sat at your desk and tried to read but you couldn’t focus on the notes. Plus, you had terrible handwriting. Liu Kang had been right. You wound up, instead, playing with the flower that rested nearby. You decided you’d cherish it a little bit longer before finding a way to press it and keep it preserved.

Sitting still was torture so you decided to take a walk. A short walk. You didn’t even bother putting on your shoes to try and discourage from going too far. Twisting the stem of the flower in your hand, you walked until you realized you’d gone much further than intended. Oh well. You weren’t pushing yourself too hard. You’d needed a change of scenery and fresh air, that was all. You found a balcony nearby and took a seat near the edge so you could watch the world across the ravine.

It was beautiful.

You twisted the flower between your fingers, admiring the purple petals. It was a small and frail thing. Small but also a sweet reminder of things long past. Those memories were so far from you now in your adult life that it was more like remembering pages from a book rather than scenes from your own history. The story, as distant as it was, was still precious to you.

Memory was a funny thing.

You’d replayed that day over and over in your mind for years after it had happened.

Your grandma had a love-hate relationship with Kung Lao at the time. She’d loved that you had a friend but had hated that the boy had been so rebellious. Your grandma had said things like ‘when you married that boy’. Once, on her deathbed, grandma had asked if you were still with Kung Lao. You’d told her yes because it had made grandma happy.

Your grandmother had always called you sensitive because of your visions, you supposed. You always had the distinct feeling that she’d known more about what was happening to you than anyone else had.

Back then the word sensitive had felt like an insult.

As an adult, you understood that it just wasn’t that simple. Grandma had always loved you even as sensitive as you were. Your mother and father had never been able to look you in the eye after it had begun. You had no doubt that they loved you, but it had been different. At nine years old that had been a lot to process. You would probably benefit from therapy but the monks in Raiden’s Temple were such gossips you were certain you’d have to outsource.

The flower spun above your fingers, and you held your other hand around it to protect it from the wind.

You were out of breath as you chased Kung Lao up the hillside through the thick and overgrown brush between the trees. He was almost constantly just far enough away from you that you couldn’t seem to catch up. Your legs were wobbly, fingers going numb, lips tingling.

Yesterday had been a mess.

You’d fallen in the kitchen while having a fit and had hit the back of your head on the counter. Grandma had taken care of you, but you’d still felt sick that morning. Then Kung Lao had wanted to see you. You’d fought with grandma about it. You begged and pled. After having such a bad day you’d only wanted to spend time with Kung Lao and feel normal.

But then Kung Lao had been funny all day.

He was even a little mean. You wondered what you had done wrong.

“Keep up, weirdo!” He’d called back to you teasingly and you nearly stopped in your tracks. He had never once before called you any of the awful names that the other kids in town had called you. To hear the insult from his lips was jarring, so much so that you thought you’d heard him wrong or imagined it.

“I need a minute! You have to slow down!” You called to him while you caught your breath. You leaned against the tree nearest you and gasped. Your heart felt like it was going to burst, and your mouth kept filling with sick spit. You were uncomfortable. Grandma had made you promise to take it easy. You were going to get in so much trouble if grandma found out that you were running through the woods that far from home.

Kung Lao reappeared through the trees, and he was smiling but still not himself. “What? Are you weak, Y/N? Gonna fall over? Can’t even make it up a little hill?”

“You’re being a jerk.” You coughed and his expression changed, but only briefly. He then turned away from you.

“Keep up, weirdo!”

“Don’t call me that!” The names stung. He’d never hinted that he’d believed those things about you so why was he saying them now? He’d been adamantly against the other kids giving you a hard time because you were different. Now there he was doing the same. Something was wrong but you didn’t understand what. Kung Lao was always difficult to understand when he was acting funny. He kept secrets.

You ran to catch up with him, stumbled over a loose stone, and then fell. You caught yourself in the dirt but hit hard. Your palms scraped against the ground and so did your knees. You sat there panicked and not breathing. Not because it’d hurt. You’d gotten good at handling pain over the past year. It was because you were bleeding and that had become a problem. When you bled, you just kept bleeding instead of healing. You were going to be in so, so much trouble when you got back to Grandma’s.

“You’re too slow, weirdo!”

Your eyes filled with tears.

This had to be a bad dream. Kung Lao would never treat you like this. You got up and watched the blood drip over your torn tights and then ran back through the trees toward your grandma’s farm. You didn’t want to hear those horrible words in his voice anymore. You’d had enough. Everywhere you went they called you terrible names or looked at you like you didn’t belong.

The only place that you had ever felt like you belonged was with Kung Lao and today he had made you feel like everyone else had.

An alien.

A freak.

The farm came into view and so you stopped at the tree line. If you went back, then grandma was going to be upset with you. She wouldn’t yell but she would be disappointed which was worse. Then you wouldn’t be allowed to watch television. It would be just you and the studies left behind by the tutor that came during the week to help you keep up with your education.

You took off your shoes and your tights, then replaced your shoes before using the tights to wipe the blood from your knees and your palms. The blood was quickly replaced. You leaned against one of the trees, hiding behind the bushes in a place where you had often snuck away to read or hide from your family.

The last time that you’d fallen, you’d skinned your elbow and it had gotten terribly infected. You’d been sick for weeks. Your parents had been so upset that you’d felt like you’d broken a rule just because you’d fallen on the way to the doctor. They’d reassured you that it was an accident but the disappointment that radiated from them when they looked at you spoke differently.

Grandma had never once blamed you for the things you couldn’t control. But this had been in your control. You knew that Kung Lao had been pushing you too hard, but you also hadn’t told him how sick you had been that morning and the night before. This was your fault. You should have told him that you weren’t up to the task of hiking wherever he had been dragging you. He’d said it had been a beautiful surprise.

The trip had been a surprise, alright, but not in the way that you had hoped it would be. It felt like a nightmare.

You hadn’t meant to fall! You’d been winded and now your hands and knees were scraped, and you’d be in trouble. Your tights were ruined too. Grandma had threatened to wrap you up in a bubble wrap before sending you off to play with ‘that boy’ and now you wondered if you’d ever be allowed outside to play with him again.

He’d called you names.

For the first time ever.

He’d called you those awful names that the other kids called you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks, your nose was plugged up and you sniffled, burying your face in your arms as you pulled your knees closer to your chest. You cried. You didn’t cry much those days, not anymore. When you’d first gotten sick, you’d cried all the time. Now you reserved your tears for hiding in your closet where no one would see. Your dad would get angry when you cried, something you’d never wanted.

Now you hid your tears.

Footsteps crunched on the grass and leaves beside you, and you wiped your eyes furiously to hide your tears but you was too stuffed up to do it well. Kung Lao sat next to you in silence, arms folded against his knees, watching you. You sniffled and frowned, trying to look mad but you weren’t sure it was actually working.

“We better get you cleaned up or you’re going to get in trouble again.” Kung Lao poked the side of your knee, and you scooted an inch away from him. He scooted with you.

“I don’t need your help.” You held your destroyed tights over your bloody knees to keep them from dipping down your leg. The scrapes weren’t that bad, they just seemed to bleed more than everyone else’s scrapes did.

“Well, it’s my fault.”

“Just leave me alone, Kung Lao.” You tried to shoo him away and he tried to pull the tights away from your knees so that he could take a look. “Stop it.”

He pouted and crossed his legs, hands at his ankles as he rocked forward and then back, letting his hands catch him as he leaned back. “I’m sorry.”

“Go away.”

“I know that those names are mean. I wasn’t thinking. You never react to them when anyone calls you them. They don’t seem to bother you.” He shrugged, looking off to the side as if embarrassed. You relaxed a little bit. “I don’t think I realized how mean it was until I saw how hurt you were just now.”

You sniffled.

“I’m dumb sometimes.” He slumped his shoulders. “You always act so strong. I didn’t think it’d hurt.”

You were used to being called mean names by others but coming from him it had hurt. You were only strong when you heard those names because their opinion of you hadn’t mattered. Kung Lao’s did.

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You sighed. Kung Lao jumped to his feet.

“I’ll go get some bandages!”

“Okay.” You wouldn’t fight him. He ran off, presumably to climb through your bedroom window and get the bandages that were kept on your side table. You wiped your eyes and willed away your upset. Kung Lao often acted before he thought. At least he’d apologized even if it had still hurt your feelings. You were, admittedly, sensitive after the night you’d had.

It didn’t take him long to return. Together you cleaned the scrapes with the little wipes that your grandma had bought and then Kung Lao placed little sticky bandages on your knees. It was sloppy and not how you would have done it, but it was sweet of him to try. Together you wrapped your palms with gauze and he did a much better job with that.

“Grandma is probably going to notice.”

“I don’t know. Your grandma doesn’t see very well. She doesn’t even notice when I’m in your room half the time.”

“Yeah, even so, mom’s going to notice when she visits tomorrow.” He wasn’t wrong. Grandma didn’t have the best eyes. Even with her glasses she struggled to read instructions and usually asked you to do it. But your mom noticed when you had so much as a loose thread on your dress or if your hair was even a little messy.

“You can blame it on me.” Kung Lao grinned. “That way you won’t get in trouble.”

“Mom already doesn’t like you.”

“What? Why not?”

“She thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“I could see that.” Kung Lao laughed.

“I won’t be allowed to see you anymore if I blame it on you. I’d rather just get into trouble for falling.” You picked up your tights. You’d get in trouble for that too. Your mom would go on and on about how money didn’t grow on trees. You’d never liked tights anyway. Besides that, your parents never seemed to be happy with you anymore anyway. What was a little extra trouble?

Kung Lao stood and offered you his hand. You took it and got to your feet. Together you made your way the short distance back to the farmhouse. A fence surrounded the old field behind it that your grandma hadn’t tended to in years. It was overgrown with weeds mostly now.

“When are you going to be allowed to go back home?”

“When I’m better.” That was what your parents had said every time you asked.

“You should just lie and say that you’re better then! Then we can play in town. This is a long walk for me.”

You laughed and climbed beneath the gap in the fence. You had wasted most of the afternoon and if you didn’t get back inside before dark then you were going to get in trouble for that too. You were pretty sure that you were already going to get in trouble. You weren’t a good liar. Every time you tried, you stuttered and got nervous and wound up giving yourself away so you didn’t really try anymore. Except for when it came to lying about if you were okay or not. You’d gotten good at pretending that you weren’t upset when you were.

“I have to go home, Kung Lao.” You waved to him and turned away.

“Wait, Y/N!” He called to you. You hurried back to the fence that he was leaning against, arms folded.

“What?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered purple flower. Then he offered it to you, averting his eyes and looking shy for maybe the first time you’d ever seen. You stared at the flower in surprise. You’d seen that kind of flower before, but they were mostly red or white. You’d never see it purple before.

“It’s why I wanted you to follow me.” He shrugged and his cheeks were redder than you’d noticed before. Maybe from their afternoon of sunshine or maybe because he was embarrassed. Why was he embarrassed? “I found them the other day and they reminded me of you. I wanted you to see them. Then I was a jerk and you ran away instead so… I brought one back for you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Had he been mean because he’d been embarrassed to do something so sweet? You didn’t know what any of it meant but it was cute to see him acting this way. He was usually so confident.

“You’re terrible.” Was what you went with. He laughed. “Making fun of me just to do something sweet.”

“Yeah, I am pretty terrible.” He beamed, back to his old self just like that. You took the flower from him and twisted the stem between your fingers. It was crumpled up from being in his pocket but it was still special and beautiful. You decided that you’d hide it. Your grandma wouldn’t let you keep it after it died, and you wanted to keep it forever.

“Thank you, Kung Lao.” You smiled and then used the fence to lean up to his height and give him a kiss on the cheek like you’d seen girls do in movies. You’d never done that before to anyone but your mom, sister, and grandma. His face turned beat red and you took a step back, holding the flower close to your chest. He grinned from ear to ear. “I have to go! Goodbye, Kung Lao!”

“Consider lying so that you can come back to town!” He shouted after you and you laughed before returning to your grandma’s house.

You twisted the stem of the flower in your hand just as you had done as a child. There had been so much of that day that you’d forgotten. It wasn’t like you sat in the memory all the time. That next day your mom had come to visit and had brought the terrible news that Kung Lao had died.

You’d been heartbroken, or that was the word that your grandma had used to defend you when your mom had told you to grow up. You hadn’t understood the notion of heartbreak at that age.

That had been what it was though. Heartbreak. Grandma had known your heart better than you ever had.

After that you’d refused to date for a long time. When you turned sixteen your mother had begun to set you up with boys from town or from neighboring towns. You’d fought with your mom about it every time and had reluctantly gone on the dates but had made it clear you weren’t interested. Your mom had told you that Kung Lao was dead and your idea of him was going to keep all other men out of your life. You’d never become a wife or a mother at that rate. You’d fought that wasn’t true or fair to accuse you of. But in the same breath you’d sabotaged every relationship you’d ever had. Your mom hadn’t been completely wrong.

You had ruined every chance at marriage that you’d had until you and your mother had become so estranged that by the time that she’d died you had barely spoken. Your father had stopped talking to you long before then outside of pleasantries around the holidays and only because your sister forced him to be polite.

Every relationship that you’d had outside of your mother’s meddling had ended with you being unable to commit. You’d never liked the idea of becoming a housewife and that was what most men that you met had wanted. You probably hadn’t given them the proper chance to prove that you’d be more than that either, though. Your older sister had settled down with a nice man from the neighboring town and had a daughter. This had continued her long running streak of being the family favorite.

You were okay with that.

Your sister had never been mean to you. In fact, she had only ever defended you. You hoped that she was doing okay. You’d been close. It had probably crushed her to think that you had died.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You turned very suddenly at the sound of Kung Lao’s voice, eyes wide and panicked. It was jarring to hear the voice of another person after being so lost in your memories.

“I’ve been standing here for like five minutes. You didn’t notice?” He was leaning against the wall of the entryway to the balcony. You felt your heart slamming in your chest. He was alive and that was still wild to you sometimes. You tried to hide the flower like a moron, like you hadn’t been mooning over your memories of him. It was too late for that. Kung Lao sat next to you. “I broke into your room when no one answered. Sorry.” He grinned and it was that same grin that a much younger him had worn after you’d kissed his cheek. “You were gone so I checked the infirmary, and you weren’t there either. That one monk, your friend, said that she’d left you earlier in the day and wasn’t your keeper. I don’t think she likes me much.”

“Chen.” You offered him her name. “I heard that you were very annoying while I was unconscious so that’s probably why she was snippy at you.”

“Well, you were unconscious for three days and I wanted to see you even if you couldn’t respond to me.” He puffed up his cheeks and pouted as he turned his gaze. You smiled and looked back down on the flower that you had hidden just beneath the hanfu you’d put on.

“Thank you for checking in on me so much. It’s sweet.”

“It’s not sweet. Purely selfish.”

“It’s sweet.” You repeated.

Kung Lao pulled the cloth away from where you’d hidden the flower and carefully took the stem from your fingertips. As you had suspected, there had been no point in hiding it.

“Wilting, huh?” He turned it over in his hands.

“Yeah, that’s what flowers do.” You shrugged and watched the ravine as he studied the flower. “Their beauty fades.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kung Lao rested it in his palm carefully, as if worried that he would crush it. You sat silently watching the ravine. “I would fill your room with flowers if it meant that you would be okay.”

You looked to him in surprise and then at the wilted flower in his palm. Your eyes burned with the threat of tears, and you fought them.

“I like having just the one.” You smiled. He cocked a curious eyebrow. “It makes it special. Only one. And the memory of the other.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He offered you the flower and you took it carefully. “Do you remember that day?”

“Every second of it.”

“You were my first kiss.” He grinned.

“Well, technically it was only a kiss on the cheek, Lao.”

“It counted. To me it counted.” He looked too proud of it to argue with him. How could you? It was incredibly sweet. You gently nudged him. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice a bit more serious, a rare thing that you both treasured and feared.

“Yeah. I’m sore and tired.” You averted your gaze.

“And…?”

“A little scared.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, that was terrifying, and you almost murdered us.” He considered and you snapped your head to him in alarm. He was smiling, even if there was still sadness behind his eyes. “Watching you struggle with this is all too familiar. I’m just glad that you’re okay now. Feeling more determined than ever.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Kung Lao stood and offered his hand and you felt your heart skip a beat. This really was far too familiar. “Come eat with me. You haven’t had real food in days.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“Three days, Y/N!”

“I was unconscious and on an IV.”

“Come eat with me anyway. Maybe Liu will join us!” Kung Lao took your hand and you reluctantly let him and got to your feet. You avoided his eyes as they studied you. “Liu’s fine, Y/N. It’s just a scrape.”

“I was covered in blood, but whatever you say.” You tucked the flower within the folds of your hanfu. “We can go get food but I’m not hungry.”

“Let’s go.” He held your hand for a time as you walked but after a few minutes he seemed to become aware that he was holding it and let go. Then he shoved his hands instead in his pockets. Your feet were sore without your shoes, and you were tired by the time you made it downstairs to the dining area. He helped you grab a plate filled with food and you found a spot across from each other at one of the long tables. You mostly poked around at your food. Kung Lao filled the silence, as he often did, telling you stories about shenanigans that he and Liu Kang had gotten into as teenagers. He spoke so animatedly that you would have smiled no matter what kind of story he was telling you.

You poked at the eggroll on your plate with your chopstick and then pushed a few vegetables aside. Nothing looked appetizing and your stomach was sour.

“You’re not eating.” He pointed to you with his chopsticks, mouth full.

“Oh?” You didn’t think that he’d been paying attention. “I did say several times that I wasn’t hungry.”

“You should eat.” He spoke between bites. “And you shouldn’t worry so much. It’s going to be okay.” He picked up the eggroll from your plate and took a bite out of it with a grin. “If you aren’t going to eat it, then I am.”

“Hey!” You swatted at his hand with your chopsticks, and he stole a mushroom from your plate before eating it with a smirk. A few other monks came to join you but sat tables away from you to avoid conversation. You ignored them but could feel them looking at you every so often before conversing. Chen hadn’t been kidding. This really was far too familiar. You ignored them and you chatted casually before Kung Lao walked you back to your room.

He looked like he wanted to say something before he left but instead, he gave you a hug and promised to see you the next day.

Days past and while you hadn’t see Liu Kang even once since you’d woken up you were getting used to seeing Kung Lao and spending most of your days with him. Even so, you were worried about Liu Kang. Kung Lao had reassured you that he was just busy but you couldn’t help it. Your brain was mean.

On the fourth day after you had woken up, the temple was buzzing with excitement. The remnants of a strong typhoon would be hitting around nightfall. It would go on for a few days. You spent much of that day helping the monks prepare for the big storm. By nighttime you were all to be safely inside because of the lightning and the rain.

In the infirmary, you helped put away the last of the extra supplies they’d gotten with word of the storm. Then you helped the monks that were near the main entrance to the temple, making sure that everything was put away and secure. It felt good to be of use and while every so often someone would whisper about you, they were also kind to you.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as evening approached. It sent chills down your spine. This would be the first storm you’d seen since coming to Raiden’s Temple. It would be a doozy.

You loved what most people would consider gloomy weather. Maybe it was because so many people disliked it that you were happy to see it. No matter the reason, you were excited. You’d been drawn to bad weather like a moth to every light it came across.

Back home you would sit on the patio of your dojo and watch the rain and listen to the thunder until the lightning got too close and dangerous. You missed that.

You should have probably found a safe place to watch the storm from but the view from the front of the temple would be unbeatable. After a few days rest you were feeling more yourself and decided that watching the storm would be a treat.

Now you just had to decide where to watch it from.

The front of the temple? (Liu Kang)

Or somewhere safer inside? (Kung Lao)

You run into Chen (Both)

53 notes · View notes

id-rather-be-an-outsider · 3 years

Text

AOT Preference: Dogs

a/n: first time doing a preference in awhile, but I want to specifically say DO NOT EVER get an animal you are not completely prepared to care for. animals are animals and will act as animals do. if they act out that’s not on them, that’s on you. animals need to be in forever homes, and it’s your responsibility to create a suitable environment for them and to not put them in situations where they could potentially be harmed or harm others. know your animal, know their comfort zone, know their needs. don’t take an animal on unless you’re ready to parent a child that never grows up for 15+ years. be responsible pet parents!

edit: just realized I used she/her for Hange so I fixed it. apologies to all my nb folks!

masterlist

Annie Leonhart

Our girl Annie would have a Siberian Husky. Strong, agile, hyperactive and able to trek long distances, they’d be perfectly suited for one another. You would be invited to tag along, of course, but you would have to keep up, lest you fall victim to the whines of an overly dramatic husky who desperately wants you to get a move on.

Armin Arlert

English Springer Spaniel, for sure. He’d fall in love with their soft coat, and their size would make them the perfect lapdog for reading, and taking long walks outside... to do more reading. Definitely a bonus that they fit comfortably between you two in bed at night, and a bonus that their little tail looked oh so very precious when it wagged!

Bertholdt Hoover

A gentle giant himself, Bertie would end up getting a Great Dane. Unlike Reiner, he’s a lot better at managing his thoughts and feelings about their study abroad trip to Paradis gone wrong. All he needs is his gigantic lapdog and you, his adoring partner. Sometimes he’d pass out on the dog in the middle of a cuddle session, and the patient thing would stare at you with pleading eyes, waiting until Bertholdt finally woke up to escape from being stuck in his arms for another hour.

Colt Grice

Colt would get a pair of Dalmatians, one for each of you. He loves their spots, their sleek build, and their energetic, yet quiet temperaments. Picket fence and all, Colt would want the happy home life!

Connie Springer

Connie would insist on having two dogs, so they don’t get lonely when you’re away from the house. He would bring home a pair of puppies with floppy ears that were adorable - an American Foxhound and an American English Coonhound. To Connie, their howls at all hours of the day, only ceasing when he falls asleep, is absolutely glorious, but to his neighbors, it’s a sign they need to invest in earplugs. Sasha would regularly steal the pair away from you so she had a full squad to go hunting with, which you wouldn’t mind since they liked the trips and got their energy out that way.

Eren Yeager

Much like how Eren picks his friends, so too, would he pick his pets. Not caring much for pedigrees, nor where a dog came from, Eren would get a shelter mix pup, probably one that’s older and been sitting there for longer. He’d sense a kinship between them - two beings looking for peace, and they’d find it in one another. The dog being absolutely adorable in every way would only be a bonus.

Erwin Smith

Commander Erwin would have a wolf-dog hybrid. He’d find the creature out in the woods, abandoned by their mother, and see the strength in their limbs despite their fear, and their resolve to survive. He would take them on as his own and together, they’d be the perfect pair of leaders, alphas in their own rights. When you became the alpha female of the household, the little beastie took to you right away, hoping that maybe you would be the one to finally grant their wish of feeding them off your plate. Of course, you never did it, because that would be irresponsible! At least, you’d parrot what Erwin said until he was gone for the day. Then, if a few bites every week fell on the floor by some magic mistake, well, who else was gonna clean it up?

Hange Zoë

Hange would have a fox! They’d be so interested by their behavior, they’d end up testing them and doing fun (and very humane) experiments on them, like exposing them to different foods, toys and puzzles, to see how they’d react. Foxes aren’t a regular pet, and they’d be fully aware of that and even over prepared to care for them, doing research years ahead of time until they felt completely ready to take one on. Needless to say, you’d be fascinated by them, but would insist Hange keep a separate, pee-proof space for the little creature they rescued so long ago. As cute as they were, you preferred your house not be ruined by their inability to potty train.

Historia Reiss

Historia would intend to get a small dog. What she would end up with, however, would not be a small dog. She would fall in love with the warm, kindly brown eyes of a giant and adopt a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog right then and there, no hesitation. In the end, it would all work out. You couldn’t always be beside her in bed, but she was always guaranteed to have an enormous lapdog by her side at all times - her protector in the throne room, her helper on the farm, and her body pillow at night. Who needs a weighted blanket when you have a hundred-pound puppy sleeping on you?

Jean Kirstein

Jean would have a German Shepherd. He adopted them when he first wanted to join the Military Police, but after he changed his mind, he still cared enough to train his dog as militantly as he was trained. It actually helped him soften up a bit (which ended up catching your attention in the end), and who wouldn’t? With those big brown eyes and floppy ears, it’s hard to resist the urge to sweet talk... and maybe, just maybe slip one or two scraps of meat under the table. No one will notice, right? Other than you, of course, who notices everything, because Jean has never been good at hiding things from you.

Levi Ackerman

We all know Levi is a clean freak and would never want a small dog that does nothing other than bark. He’d have a Standard Poodle, probably an apricot color. They’re smart, good hunters, and most importantly, non-shedding! They also are very sweet, not unlike our Captain (even if he’s good at hiding it). The one thing he wouldn’t expect, however, would be to find a trouble maker in his home. Stolen shoes, stolen ties, stolen cravats, even - somehow they would all wind up somewhere his sweet dog seemed to frequent, but they were clever enough not to be caught, so what could he do?

Marcel Galliard

A chocolate lab! They’re sweet and adventurous, as well as protective, and are absolute cuties. Marcel would love having a fluffy companion, and would take his Labrador on long hikes every weekend.

Marco Bott

Marco loves to look forward to the future, and he’d love to experiment with a newer breed of dog. The Catahoula caught his eye with their well-muscled body, and your excitement over their coat pattern sealed the deal. When you both realized just how much energy they had, you ended up joining Annie and Marcel on their hikes and volunteering your pup for hunting trips with Sasha, so they weren’t up all night long playing.

Mikasa Ackerman

Mikasa is the only person out of this bunch that wouldn’t get a dog - she’d have two cats, at least one being a brown tabby. Mikasa’s so dedicated to her work that she wouldn’t see herself as a person with enough time for dogs, but she wouldn’t mind caring for two soft kitties who curled up on either side of you two every night, even if they somehow always managed to have their butts in your faces when you woke up. Cats have a way of doing that.

Pieck Finger

Pieck would own a Weimaraner. Curious, cute, and a standout, they both fit the mold of “dogs and owners who look alike” with their deep, inquisitive eyes and playful, loving natures.

Porco Galliard

Like Porco, Pitbulls can appear tough and menacing on the outside. Also like Porco, pitbulls are just big babies who want to be loved on. He’d likely already have one before you two fell for each other, and his pit would see the loving nature in you and start coming to you for snuggles - which might have made Porco feel left out, if he wasn’t always in the middle of it.

Reiner Braun

Pomeranian. This man has seen some shit, and what better form of comfort than you and a tiny puffball with googly eyes? Fortunately, his Pomeranian would be unusually mellow, understanding he relied on their calm to maintain his own headspace after everything that’s happened.

Sasha Braus

Sasha would get an Irish Setter and an English Setter. She would take her dogs on hunting trips to help her track down animals, and when they got home she’d sit up for a cuddle with her two favorite pups and her favorite partner, you. Cocoa after a long day of hard work is fantastic.

Ymir

Everybody knows that Ymir wouldn’t intend to have a dog. She wouldn’t want anything or anyone to depend on her, but one day, when a band of strays would come around her apartment and try to attack her, another random dog would come from out of nowhere, fight them, and chase the rest of the pack off. Upon seeing the heroic dog injured, Ymir would feel indebted and take them in. Just until they healed, of course - then, it would be off to the local shelter for them. But then, you would drop by for a visit and the dog would love all over you. And then, Ymir would keep waking up finding the dog had managed to crawl into her bed and sleep next to her every night. And then, one thing after another, Ymir’s heart would soften just enough to let the scroungy stray who saved her life have a spot, right next to the spot reserved for you, and your family of two would grow to be a family of three. And then, you would find a puppy on the side of the road and take them home to Ymir after you moved in with her, and your family of three would grow to be a family of four. And then, when the puppy grew up, Ymir would find her laying in a closet with a litter of semi-scroungy-looking pups, and your family of four would become a family of five, six, seven, eight... and so on.

Zeke Yeager

Zeke has wavy golden locks, and so do golden retrievers. They’re also both incredibly cute, sweet, and popular. Need I say more? Fine, if I have to convince you. They also both have very kissable, kind, and meddlesome faces. Don’t tell me you don’t see it there!

97 notes · View notes

playinonaloop · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4: Save us

Warning throughout the series: (mentions of) smut, violence, drugs, alcohol, guns, maffia stuff, ya know!

Story masterlist

A warm wind blew onto Daniels ‘s face as he ran out into the garden. He blew out air through his nose while he crouched down. To torture you was one thing, but to kill you? Daniel knew that only would bring death and destruction to his family. His body became hot as the world started to spin around him. Daniel’s heart started to race, blood pounding in his ears. He sat down and tried to grab the small stones of the gravel path beneath him.

Thoughts were spinning through his head; his mother had really gone mad. She was really planning to kill you, for something as simple as money. Daniel knew that there was more to it than just money. He knew his family was tied up into something bigger than he could ever imagine. Why did you get left behind? Was this a way to get underneath the skin of his parents? Why didn’t they leave Joey? Were you something your family thought of as less, just as his family did?

Everybody in the Ricciardo family knew that his sister, Michelle, was going to be the next one to lead the family. Her being older, and perhaps more twisted, aided to that. She fitted right into the way his family portrayed themselves. Daniel didn’t use drugs like they did, he didn’t drink alcohol. He didn’t enjoy torturing like they did. In every aspect he was different than them. Joe, his dad, was in many ways like him but, because he married Grace, he changed to her liking. And with that, Joe didn’t hold her back in the things she did.

Daniels ‘s breath slowed down again as he got a grip of the stones beneath him. He threw them away from him as he took deep breaths to calm down again. After a short moment, he stood up and turned around to take a look at the house. His brown eyes scanned the house, taking it in. The big windows, balconies with lounge sets on them. A curtain that blew out of a window. Daniel walked back a bit to see the enormous roof with some small towers on top of it. He knew that it wasn’t normal to live in such a mansion. With that thought on his mind, he walked back inside.

Soft whimpers left your mouth as the pain became unbearable. The sun was now high up in the sky which meant that Daniels ‘s visit had been a few hours ago. You hadn’t had food or something to drink in a while now, in combination with being tortured it made you feel awful. The smell of dried blood was starting to make your head spin. As you looked down you saw that your jeans were drenched in blood. This made you close your eyes shortly; you knew you had lost a lot of blood.

When you opened your eyes, you knew you had slipped out of consciousness for a bit. The sun was starting to set. It marked the end of day four, making it almost five days since you saw your family. God, you hated this situation. A frustrated groan left your mouth as you thought about the last moments before you went on this stupid mission. Eating breakfast with your parents and Joey, giving your dog Katy a last cuddle before leaving. Tears started to well up in your eyes. You knew that you were going to die here if your family didn’t show up tomorrow. As a family you had mutually decided that, if there wasn’t an option to save one of them within the first five days of being kidnapped or left behind, you didn’t get saved. It took too much risk to come and save someone who might actually be dead due to starvation, torture or even murder. Yes, it was a very hard choice to accept. But it had to be done, to save the family.

The door behind you opened. It made you sit up, hoping someone came to bring you something to eat and drink. You realized that it wasn't a food delivery by the way the person moved through the room. Another set of footsteps joined.

"We're giving you another chance to 'fess up"

Michelle her voice cut through the air, a shiver running up your spine as Grace walked towards the windows. You quickly saw the gun she was carrying. It made you realize this could end in two different ways. You could either tell them or die. A smile played your mouth as another idea popped up in your mind.

"Okay"

"Okay?"

It made Michelle walk towards you, Grace turned around with a frown on her face.

"Yeah, I'm dying either way"

Grace scoffed and smiled. She let go of the gun.

"Clever girl..."

You told them this big story, how your parents decided they would legalize weed as they grew it on the farm back north of Queensland. To what degree they went to flood the now legal market. How they profited of it, making them become wealthier than they had ever been. You told them in detail where the farm was, Michelle left the room to send an investigator up there. Grace just stared at you. In dismay.

“I can’t believe you would betray your family like that.”

“Well, they left me here to die. Didn’t they?”

Hatred fueled your eyes, and they believed your story.

“I’ll make sure they get your regards”

Grace left. You took a deep breath in, shaking your fear out of you. The farm you talked about was an empty shell. Your family didn’t use it, as it used to be an old family home. It was completely empty. A giggle left your mouth, it was all a lie. The Ricciardo’s weren’t going to win in any way. You were going to die anyway, now or in 80 years.

You looked out of the window, staring into the abyss as a few hours passed by. It turned completely dark outside. The door behind you opened but you were too tired to respond.

It was Daniel that sat in front of you. A knife in his hands. You knew it was time. A tear slipped out of your eye, making you nudge your shoulder to your cheek. He didn't look at you.

"So ironic that you are the one to..." You scoffed softly.

Daniel looked up at you. Your eyes met and it was electrifying. Now that he was sitting here in front of you, you had time to take him in. Thinking that he would be the last thing you would see because you weren't sure if there was anything like an afterlife, your eyes slid over his head. You could see how messy his curls were, almost identical to how they were this morning. A number of curls had slumped to the side, as if they were too heavy to hold. You would always remember his sun-tanned head, that's how he used to look. The wrinkles around his eyes that no doubt came from laughing all the time. The beard that made him look older than he was. You looked further down. A muscular body, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts. Daniel didn't wear socks, also something he never did. You now saw the rose on his hand, you recognized it from somewhere.

"How long do you have that rose?"

"I don't know, since 2018 I think, why?"

"No, it's nothing, thought I recognized it"

"Oh"

The silence came back, and it became unbearable.

"If you aren't going to kill me, just do it"

He stood up, playing with the knife. Daniel looked back and forth between you and the door. It made you want to cry, because he made your ending so much longer than it needed to be. That also made you angry. You could feel death lingering over you, his hands were playing with the knife as if it was a lego block, something as innocent as that.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“Well how am I supposed to go on then?!” You looked up at him, despair in your eyes. This was the moment that would break or make your or his family.

Drawing blood from his hands as he twists the knife in his hands and looked away at the closed door.

You were starting to get annoyed with him. He was prolonging your life for what?

"Daniel, look at me damn it!"

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes weren't blank anymore. Instead, you saw something you didn't recognize.

"I remember swimming with you and your brother, you know. Almost every summer behind the cliffs where we used to ride to from your house."

You raised an eyebrow as he started talking about something from the past. He continued.

"I remember playing hide and seek while our parents had meetings together. I recall sitting with you on the swing."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"A few years ago, I had the most wonderful night. It was a night out with friends. After a few drinks I decided to get on the dance floor. The club played the greatest hits but also a few from the past. While dancing, I saw the prettiest girl. High heels, a sleeveless dress, just up to my liking. Long legs, long hair and smelled like freshly cut watermelon with a hint of smoke but it didn't overwhelm me. "

You knew where this was going. Daniel was now face to face with you, close. Now you recognized the smell, sweet like a candy shop but also the saltiness from the sea.

"We danced for quite a bit, my hands roaming her body freely. Kissing her neck. She grabbed my hand, where I had a rose. A rose just like this one."

He shows you his hand. Not too close to your face to make sure he didn't cut you with the knife he held.

"It was a fake tattoo at the time, you know, some a temporary tattoo that you stick on with a wet cloth."

Daniel smiled as he bent down.

"My friend whispered to me that I was dancing with the devil."

A chuckle left his mouth. He sat on the floor in front of you.

"I was dancing with you, he had seen your face and made me leave. Again I was disturbed in being who I wanted to be. I wanted to be carefree, to live without the responsibility of being a member of the fucking maffia!"

His hand drove the knife into the wooden floor. It cracked. You tried to shuffle your chair backwards, afraid he would drive the knife in your leg next. Daniel looked up at you.

"My parents do not find me important enough to take me with them in most of the family meetings. They take Michelle. But in the last few days I've realized something. It's okay that they don't. Because I do not want to be like them."

Daniel pulled the knife out of the floor.

"I. Want. Out!"

He spoke through gritted teeth, moving the knife towards your leg.

"So, this is the plan. I will act like I killed you but obviously will not kill you. Then I will wrap the blanket, that's laying by the door, around you and I will carry you to the car. I'll go back inside to tell my parents that I am going to dispose of your body. I'll show them a picture of you in the blanket. In my car I have two fake passports, because we need to talk."

Daniel cut all the ropes around your feet, body and wrists. You were speechless to say the least. He walked to get the blanket and grabbed another bottle of something.

"Can you lay on top of it, I've got some fake blood I will put on your chest and onto the knife and then some on the blanket so it will be realistic."

You just looked at him, rubbing your wrists. The wounds on your stomach hurt.

"Why are you saving me?"

"Because, I reckon, you want out too. Now lay down, we don't have much time"

Daniel put a hand on your shoulder and softly pushed you towards the blanket. You sat and laid down carefully. He put some fake blood on your chest and on the knife. A little pool of blood was quickly created, but it was mixed with your own. Some of the cuts on your stomach opened, making you groan.

"Okay, okay, eyes closed; just a second."

He took the photo and put it in his back pocket.

"So just lay there for a minute. I've got some medical stuff to help you with the.. duh.."

Daniel looked visibly distressed.

"You don't have to talk about it"

Your voice was soft, making him look at you instead of the cuts. He grabbed Betadine and some bandages.

"It might hurt"

"Just do it, the proces of making them hurt even worse"

He looked hurt at the way you snapped at him.

"Sorry"

"No, it's okay"

Daniel gave you his hand before he put the Betadine on. You squeezed it hard, making you clench your jaws as he cleaned it a bit. He then bandaged it.

"I'm now going to wrap you up and carry you to the car"

Before you knew you were in the trunk of the car. It was dark, cold and to be quite frank; scary. You laid there for a bit, refueling yourself with small bites of the sandwich Daniel made and drinking a bit of water. The car started to drive away, making you grip the flooring of the trunk to hold on. You rest your head against the bag that laid in the trunk too. After a while, you slipped into a nap.

"Hey, you still with me?"

You opened your eyes and met Daniel who was very close to your face. It made you shuffle backwards. "Sorry, I'm just glad you're awake. Shall I help you get out?" "Yes, uh, please." Daniel grabbed your hands and helped you up. He briefly shielded your head as you came up and nearly hit the edge of the trunk. "I brought you some clothes to put on, because what you're wearing now can't be called clothes anymore." He handed you a bag and then walked away to the lookout point where we were parked. You looked around briefly before opening the bag. The bag was full of clothes, short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, jeans, sweatpants. You name it or it was in there. The cold had now crept into your bones, so you opted for layers. A short-sleeved shirt with a sweater over it. Jeans with a sweater over it. Daniel had even thought of clean underwear.

"You can turn around now, I'm dressed."

Daniel turned back to you and took you in.

His face showed signs of complete horror. "I'm so sorry." A tear rolled down his cheek. He collapsed, causing you to walk right up to him. He cried. Tears also slowly streamed down your cheeks. He put his arms around you. You cried together. After a while the tears were gone.

"What now?" "I need to let my parents know that I'm fine and that I'm free." "And after that?" "After that we'll see what we're going to do"

He smiled at you, it made you smile back. You were free, you were safe. Daniel saved you and himself in the proces.

"Can I suggest one thing we can do?"

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

His voice was soft and nervous. Daniel kept smiling a little, with a little blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah"

"Yeah?"

You nodded.

"Okay"

Daniel stepped closer to you, the space between you now almost non existent. His hot breath fanned over your face. He looked down at you, scanning your eyes again. You took in that rich smell of cologne that he wore. It was as if the night at the club continued. But then in silent. His eyes looked into yours. They seemed lighter in color in the moonlight. The dark ring around his iris was a great contrast to the amber color inside. His pupils were large because of the lack of light in the area. Daniel surprised you by letting his lips gently touch yours. His hand found its place on your cheek, he gently rubbed it with his thumb. He tasted fresh, almost like he just brushed his teeth. It made you realized he had a mint before. Daniel had planned everything which made you giggle against his lips.

#Daniel Ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #imagine #fanfic #f1 #mob!au #angst

34 notes · View notes