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xwritingdixonx · 7 months

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Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

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A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

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st4rfckerz · 4 months

Text

church mouse | priest!anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 4.0k

warnings: MDNI 18+, blasphemy, age gap (reader is in her 20s), mild manipulation, infedelity, pet names, dubcon, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, virginity loss, rushed ending dead dove do not eat

summary: After confessing your sins to the priest, he encourages you to talk to him privately.

The sun shone brightly outside the church windows, casting warm rays across the peaceful town square. Birds sang melodiously in trees lining the peaceful avenue leading to the church building. Inside, candles flickered gently, casting warm light on the ornate wooden pews filled with devoted parishioners.

Many attendees wore their finest clothes as they listened intently to Father Anakin's sermons, occasionally whispering prayers under their breath or reaching for their rosaries. The scent of incense mixed pleasantly with perfume and cologne wafting through the air.

"Today's lesson is about finding solace in our faith during difficult times, we have all faced trials and tribulations throughout life, but remember that God is always with us, guiding us through these dark moments," he paused dramatically, letting the words sink in before adding. "Just like how I am here for you all, If anyone needs guidance or support outside of church hours, please don't hesitate to visit me personally."

The crowd applauded politely, some even raising their hands in praise.

Anakin stood tall and proud in front of his congregation, his hands resting gracefully atop each other in prayer position. "But first, let us pray," he began solemnly. Everyone followed suit, kneeling on their knees, and bowing their heads in unison. He led them in a heartfelt prayer asking for strength and guidance throughout the week ahead. Your eyes were closed tightly as you prayed fervently, the beads of you rosary clicking softly in rhythm with each breath you took.

The prayer ends and you raise your head. Anakin's warm eyes met yours briefly before returning his gaze to the congregation. "Remember, my dear friends, if you ever need someone to turn to in times of trouble or doubt, I am here for you. Now, let us proceed with the sermon." He said softly yet firmly.

Anakin's sermon lasted well beyond the usual hour mark, his words resonating deeply within you. He talked about sin and repentance, forgiveness and redemption. Each sentence seemed tailored specifically for you, hitting hard at places you didn't even know existed. His voice was mesmerizing, lulling you into a trance-like state where all you could think about was him.

After thanking everyone for attending church today, Anakin announced that confessionals would remain open for anyone who needed to speak with him privately. He urged those waiting outside the confessional booths to enter one by one. People started lining up outside the confessional booths, waiting patiently for their turn to unburden themselves.

You hesitated briefly, unsure whether you should go or not.

Finally, mustering up courage, you walked slowly towards the nearest booth, taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

You couldn't help but notice how many women seemed particularly entranced by Father Anakin; they hung onto his every word during sermons and lingered longer than necessary after Mass ended. Some even approached him directly after services, seeking personal guidance or counsel.

When it was finally your turn, you nervously stepped inside the dimly lit booth. The thick wooden panel separated you from him, giving you some semblance of privacy. You hoped no one could hear what you were about to say.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned." You begin timidly.

You could hear his soothing voice responding softly, "What is it my child? Remember, here you can speak freely without fear of judgment." His deep baritone reverberated through the wooden walls, making your knees tremble slightly.

Unsure of how to begin, you struggled to find the right words. Your voice trembled slightly as you managed to spit out the confession that had been weighing heavily on your mind for days now.

"I had an encounter with a boy and it was wrong," You explain. "He touched me Father." The admission felt like a heavy stone being lifted off your chest, but also brought forth a wave of guilt and shame.

Your heart raced faster than ever before, and you could feel sweat forming on your palms as they clutched tightly onto the confession railing.

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly, a slight frown creeping onto his otherwise serene face.

His warmth radiated off him like a furnace, making you feel as if you were melting in his presence. "And did you enjoy it?" he asked bluntly, his tone laced with curiosity rather than judgment.

Slightly taken aback you respond meekly, "No sir."

After a brief pause, he continued, his tone becoming more commanding. "Meet me in my office once everyone has left." With that cryptic statement, you hear his door open, signaling the end of confession time. After gathering yourself, you cautiously left the booth and returned to the previously vacant pew.

As everyone else left the almost empty church, you sat in silence and waited. The sun casted a warm, golden light through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the pews surrounding you. It was only you and a woman only a few years your senior. The woman's eyes lingered on Anakin hungrily as she waited for him to acknowledge her presence

The woman, dressed in a somewhat modest dress and heels, stood in front of Anakin. They engaged in conversation for several minutes, their voices low enough that you couldn't make out what they were discussing. Anakin gave you a small nod towards the hallway leading to his office, indicating you should wait outside while he finished up with the other woman. Reluctantly, you stepped into the empty hallway, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Every step felt like walking on eggshells, and every sound echoed loudly in your ears. Finally, after what seemed like forever, you reach his office.

With haste, you slip inside and shut the door. You sat nervously in the chair, trying to compose yourself as you waited for Anakin to finish his conversation with the woman. The office itself was tastefully decorated, featuring a large wooden desk with numerous religious trinkets and pictures of Jesus Christ adorning the walls. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with volumes on religion, philosophy, and psychology. A large cross hung prominently above his desk, casting eerie shadows across the room.

The door creaked open, and Anakin stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. His long legs striding confidently towards you as you remain sitting in your chair. Reaching out, he gently caressed your cheek with his warm palm, his fingers brushing against your jawline. His touch sent electric shockwaves through your body, making it hard for you to focus on anything but him.

"Did you enjoy today's sermon little lamb?" He asks softly.

"Yes Father," You managed to croak out, your voice cracking slightly. "It was very moving."

Anakin walks over to his desk and sits down across from you, his presence nearly overpowering as he leaned forward in his chair. His large frame loomed over you, making you feel small and insignificant yet simultaneously drawn to him.

"I noticed how attentive you've been during my sermons," he admitted with a slight smirk. "It's quite flattering, actually." You couldn't help but blush at his candid admission, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and excitement wash over you.

"Now, tell me more about this encounter you mentioned during confession," he said calmly, leaning forward slightly. His presence was suffocating yet strangely comforting, making it difficult for you to form coherent sentences. "What exactly happened between you and this boy?"

"W-well the other day me and this boy were studying together, and then he kissed me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Is that all he did?" Anakin pressed, his eyes boring into yours. His question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering truthfully.

"No sir, when we kissed he put his fingers...inside me." Your face flushed even brighter at your confession, and you felt heat rising in your chest. Anakin's expression remained unchanged, but you could feel the heat emanating from him intensifying.

"Was it consensual?" he asked bluntly, his eyes boring into yours.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. On one hand, you knew what you had done was wrong, but another part of you couldn't deny the thrill and excitement it brought you

"Yes Father," you whispered softly, barely audible above the ticking clock on his desk. You hung your head low in shame, tears threatening to spill over at the thought of betraying your faith. "But I didn't...you know." Anakin's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes searching yours intently. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze intensifying. Anakin paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully.

"You didn't have an orgasm." He stated bluntly, his tone devoid of judgment. You shake your head quickly, too embarrassed to speak again.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, his forearms resting on his knees. His icy blue eyes bore into yours, searching for some hidden truth that you refused to admit. "It's natural for a young woman like yourself to be curious about her body and sexuality," he said matter-of-factly. "But remember, these desires must be channeled appropriately. God created us with these urges, but we must learn to control them."

Anakin rose from his chair, towering over you as he extended a hand towards his own seat. "Please, sit," he commanded softly, his voice carrying an underlying command that left no room for refusal. You hesitantly stood up and walked tentatively towards him, your heart racing wildly in anticipation of what was to come.

Anakin stood behind you as you sat in his big, leather chair. He opened a large, leather-bound Bible on the desk, flipping through the pages until he found a particular passage. "Read this passage aloud for me," he commanded softly, his hands resting lightly on the arms of the chair. "I believe it might resonate with you." You cleared your throat and began to read the passage about self control, giving it your best effort despite the heavy breathing behind you.

"2 Peter 1:4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires." You read quietly. Anakin listened intently as you read the passage, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your nape and down your spine. With each touch, your brain became foggier, making it difficult for you to concentrate on the words written centuries ago.

"That's beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky. Anakin leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you understand what these words mean?" he whispers.

"Yes Father." You reply quietly. Anakin's fingers traced lower, brushing against your cleavage through your top. "Good girl," he praised, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and imagine that these words are being spoken directly to you by God Himself."

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Imagine that He's telling you, 'My child, I love you unconditionally. You are mine, and no one else can ever take that away from you.' Do you feel it spreading throughout your body?" A surge of warmth washed over you like a tidal wave. It started at your feet and spread upwards, engulfing every inch of your body. You shivered in delight as goosebumps formed on your skin.

Anakin flipped the Bible page to another passage, his fingers brushing against yours lightly as he did so. "Now, read this one aloud for me, 1 Thessalonians 4:3-5" he commanded softly, his warm breath tickling your earlobe.

You obediently did as he commanded, trying hard not to focus on the growing arousal between your legs. You clear your throat and speak again.

"For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God."

As you read the passage, Anakin's lips traced slow, gentle kisses along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch ignited a fire within you, making it increasingly difficult to focus on the words written on the page. Anakin's lips reached your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin.

"You're still pure, aren't you?" he asked softly, nipping lightly at your earlobe. "No one has ever claimed you like this before?" His hand reaches down and slides underneath your skirt, brushing his knuckles against your wet, cotton panties.

"Yes." you managed to choke out, your voice cracking with desire. Your body arched into his touch, begging for more. You bit your bottom lip hard, trying to suppress the moan escaping your throat as he continued to tease and torment you. You felt your resolve crumble beneath his relentless assault on your senses. His words had substance, they seemed so full of meaning. You were mesmerized.

Anakin groaned lowly, his voice low and husky. "I knew there was something special about you, my church mouse," he whispered in your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. Anakin's hand moved to the edge of your panties, his warm fingers pulling them to the side. His thumb teased your throbbing clit, circling around it slowly. "You weren't this wet when that boy touched you, were you?" he purred, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"N-no Father, I wasn't." you moan softly, unable to contain the growing need building inside of you. Anakin's fingers plunge into your aching cunt, moving in and out of your tight entrance slowly at first, his thumb still circling your sensitive nub. His breathing grew heavier, matching the rapid pace of your own as he continued to explore your most sacred parts.

"That's my girl," he praised, his voice laced with lust. "Feel how much you need me?"

You nodded vigorously, unable to form coherent words as his touch escalated. Each curl of his fingers inside your drooling cunt heightened your arousal, making it nearly impossible for you to concentrate on anything else. His touch was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before—it was both rough and tender, possessive yet caring. The combination of his power and gentleness left you feeling both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

Soon your body tensed up, and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly. Anakin pulled his fingers out of your core just as you reached the brink of ecstasy, leaving you hanging on the edge of orgasm.

"No, why'd you stop?" you whine softly as you turn around to face him. You pouted, your lower lip quivering in frustration as he denied you the release you so desperately craved.

A smirk played at the corners of his lips. "Not yet, little lamb." he teased, his voice laced with power and control. Anakin stood up straight again, his erection straining against his pants. He pulled your chair back slightly, creating enough room for him to stand in front of you. His large frame loomed over you as he placed a hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Anakin's eyes bore into yours, searching for any signs of hesitation or deceit. "Do you pray every night?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded earnestly, unable to hide the truth from him. "Yes, Father. I pray every night before bed." Anakin knelt down in front of you, his broad shoulders framing your body. His hands moved to rest on your knees, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin.

"What do you pray for? What do you ask of God?" Anakin asks softly, his eyes searching yours intently.

You glanced down at your lap, unable to meet his piercing gaze. "I ask for strength and guidance, mostly." you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly, studying your reaction. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice low and husky. "Good," His hand moved up your leg, lifting your skirt enough to expose your panty-clad pussy. "I can't help but notice how devoted you are during my sermons," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "It would be a sin for me not to reward my favorite student.

With one swift motion, he yanked your panties down to your ankles, exposing your slick coated cunt to his hungry eyes. Anakin placed your leg on his shoulder, giving him better access to your now-exposed folds. His warm, wet tongue traced slow circles around your entrance before dipping inside, his tongue flicking against your sensitive spots with expert precision.

"Read again," he commanded, his voice mumbling against your warm flesh. "Proverbs 18:21."

You fumbled with the Bible, your hands shaking slightly as you tried to focus on the words written on its pages.

"The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit."

Anakin hums in approval against your mound, causing a rush of vibrations to flow through your body. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling him closer, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp.

You whimpered, your body tensing up in anticipation of imminent orgasm. "Father, I-I feel it coming again." you managed to choke out between moans.

Anakin's hand moved to your entrance, two fingers slipping inside of you, stretching you wider. "That's it," he said, his voice low and husky. "Let go and let yourself succumb to His will."

A wave of pure ecstasy crashed over you, your entire body convulsed, and a string of lewd moans escaped your lips. Your orgasm was unlike anything you had ever experienced before—more intense, more powerful, and more fulfilling than any previous encounter. It felt as though the heavens themselves were opening up to claim your soul.

Anakin's tongue continued to lap up your juices, his eyes locked on yours as he savored the taste of your arousal. With a smirk, he stood up straight again, towering over you in all his glory. Anakin's eyes were ablaze with desire as he stood over you, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

"We're not quite done yet," he said, his voice low and raspy. "Stand up."

He reached down, undoing his pants and boxers in one swift motion, freeing his thick member from its confines. It stood tall and proud, glistening with pre-cum, its head flushed a deep crimson.

"Bend over," he ordered. Slowly, you stood up and turned around, your back facing him. Anakin's hands gripped your hips, positioning you over the desk. You felt his cock poking against your ass, and a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

Anakin's large, calloused hands gripped your firm ass cheeks, squeezing and kneading them roughly. His fingers traced slow circles around your puckered entrance before moving lower, teasing your wet folds. He held his member in his other hand, rubbing the head against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. "Do you still want this sweet girl?"

You gave a soft, breathy moan of approval, your hips wiggling slightly in anticipation. Anakin's hand connected with your ass cheek, a sharp slap that made you yelp in surprise.

"Speak up."

You cleared your throat, trying to regain composure. "Yes, Father." you finally managed to utter, your voice trembling with need.

"There you go." he coos his voice filled with faux sincerity. "Now, relax and let me take care of you." Anakin's cockhead pushed past your tight entrance, stretching you slowly but surely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as he began to thrust into you with deliberate slowness, his hips rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly, nails digging into the wood as he claimed possession of you, filling you completely. After several deep thrusts, the initial pain subsided, replaced by an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Anakin's hands keep hold of your hips, holding you steady as he pounded into you, filling every crevice of your tight passage. Your moans turned into whimpers, becoming more desperate as he picked up speed, his tip kissed your sweet spot with precision.

"Thaaat's it, give yourself to Him, let him cleanse you." he managed to grunt out between gasps for breath.

Your hand slipped off the desk, accidentally knocking over a family photo frame that fell to the floor with a loud crash. Anakin didn't seem to notice or care, his focus entirely on claiming you, taking what he believed was rightfully his.

The tight coil in your stomach began to build up once more, and you knew it wouldn't be long now. You arched your back, your hips moving in sync with his, begging for release. His pace quickened, his breath hot against your neck as he growled out, "Cum for me angel, I know you're close." His words were like a trigger, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Anakin groaned, his hips bucking wildly as he felt your worn cunt clamp around him. With a final powerful thrust, he erupted inside you, filling you to the brim with his hot seed. His cock twitched and pulsed, draining every drop of his essence into you.

You collapsed against the desk, panting heavily, your entire body covered in sweat. Anakin leaned forward, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His cock slowly pulled out of your sore cunt, leaving you feeling empty and drained. He stepped back, admiring his work, his cock still semi-erect, dripping with your fluids. He extended a hand to help you steady yourself. Anakin turned to you, his eyes softening slightly. "Are you ok sweetheart?" he asked, concern etched on his features.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. " 'm fine," you managed to mutter, your voice hoarse.

"You did so good for me," Anakin panted, his eyes glazed over with fufillment. He helped you pull your panties back up your legs, his fingers brushing against your sensitive folds, causing a shiver to run through you.

Anakin sat back down in his chair, and motioned for you to sit on his lap. "Come here." he smiles. You tentatively approached him with wobbly legs, unsure of what he had in mind. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, so you were sitting sideways on his lap, your legs draped over his thighs. Anakin placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his breath tickling your scalp. You remained like this for a moment, both caught in your own thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Anakin spoke softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. "I want you to know something angel," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I would never hurt you, physically or otherwise. Our interactions are between us and God's eyes alone." You nodded, still processing everything that had transpired.

"If anyone ever finds out about today, we won't be able to see each other like this again." Anakin's hand tightened slightly, his fingers digging into your skin. "Do you understand me?" he asked, his voice taking on a threatening edge.

You nodded solemnly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand Father."

Anakin placed another soft kiss on your head before resting his cheek against your temple, his hand still firmly holding you in place.

"Good girl." he whispered.

Your eyes wander off and you suddenly see a cross hanging on the wall, the sight of it immediately brought an uneasy feeling to you. It felt like it was casting a small ominous and disapproving aura.

Uncertainty and confusion warred inside you, but there was also a strange sense of belonging and connection.

As you stare longer you feel as if it's judging you and looking at you as if it is not happy with what you have been doing.

You remain in his arms, you felt an odd mix of emotions, the sense of euphoria and bliss you felt with Anakin being so tender with you was overshadowed by the feeling of something not being right. You feel a tinge of regret for what you took part in but a part of you wants to do it again.

Maybe next Sunday.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #st4rfckerz

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highladyandromeda · 1 month

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Shadows of the Heart

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

WC: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of blood, but nothing particularly graphic

[Prologue], [Part 1]

Another four days passed, a week having finished as Y/n continued to sleep. Madja checked in multiple times a day, but she didn’t find any other problems.

“Apart from her loss of blood, her body’s naturally healing itself. And it even seems as though once Mor recovered, her magic was able to repair her wounds.”

Azriel observed how the deep cuts on her arm and leg closed to form thin raised scars, marveling at the process, and pushing back the discomfort of seeing her skin marred.

“So why isn’t she awakening?” Rhys broached, having left his place by her bedside, only to convert the room next door into a temporary office, checking in every hour according to his shadows.

“It’s most likely exhaustion.” Madja contemplated before continuing, “We’re still not sure of the magic she used to teleport herself and Morrigan here, but it was enough to take a toll on her body. Time is most likely what she required the most.”

Azriel nodded along, the images of the blood circle ingrained in his mind. The crimson runes were still left on the balcony, no one had the heart to ask the house or the stomach really, to wash them off. Rhys hadn’t said a word about it either, perhaps afraid that touching it could somehow affect Y/n’s recovery.

On the dawn of the fifteenth day, as the first rays of sunlight spilled into the room, bathing it in a warm, golden hue, something shifted. Azriel, who had taken to keeping watch that morning, noticed the change first. The steady rhythm of Y/n's breathing altered and became deeper, more purposeful. Her fingers twitched and as Azriel crept closer, he could see her eyelashes flutter.

Then, in a moment that seemed to suspend time itself, Y/n's eyes opened. The vividness of her gaze, a striking contrast to the pallor that had claimed her features for days, searched the room, disoriented yet aware.

As if sensing the shift in the air, Rhys appeared at the doorway, his presence commanding yet wreathed in silent anticipation. Feyre was close behind him, with Madja appearing along her side. Y/n’s gaze, clear yet clouded with confusion, swept across the room before settling on Rhys with a dawning recognition.

Rhys stepped forward, his voice a gentle anchor in the sea of confusion that likely swirled within her. "Y/n, you're safe. You're in the House of Wind, in Velaris."

"Rhys..." her voice was a whisper, fragile as the morning light, but it carried the weight of countless unspoken words. Azriel felt his shadows quiver at the sound of her voice, agitated that she said only that.

Madja approached with a gentle smile, her presence a reassuring beacon. "You've had us all holding our breath," she chided softly, a twinkle of relief in her eyes. "How do you feel?"

Struggling to sit up, Y/n's arms trembled with the effort, unable to support her weight. Quickly, Madja and Rhys were at her side, gently guiding her back against a fortress of pillows arranged for her comfort.

"I—how long—" she began, her voice barely a whisper. Gesturing towards her mouth, she mimed the action of drinking. Rhys, understanding immediately, handed her a glass of water, which she accepted with a nod of thanks.

"Fifteen days," came the response, surprising even Azriel, who hadn't expected his voice to fill the silence.

Y/n's gaze snapped to Azriel, her crimson eyes locking with his in confusion. Then, turning back to Rhys, she sought confirmation, her eyes laden with unspoken questions.

"Yes," Rhys affirmed, his tone carrying a blend of seriousness and warmth. "As Azriel, my spymaster, mentioned, you've been asleep for fifteen days, Y/n."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, prompting Rhys to add with a light-hearted chuckle, "You've never been one to enjoy your sleep, so, I must say, this time you've outdone yourself."

The room filled with soft laughter, which quickly turned into a series of coughs from Y/n.

With a firm command, Madja ushered everyone out, emphasizing the need for Y/n to rest and recuperate in solitude. Rhys, with a promise of returning bearing books and introductions, and Feyre, with an offer of her gentle company, reluctantly departed.

Azriel, ever the silent observer, melded back into the comforting embrace of the shadows. He lingered a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Y/n as she settled back, her magic, a soft luminescence against her skin, began to weave its way up her arms once more. And as he retreated into his room. It was the vivid scarlet of her eyes that imprinted itself on his mind, a beacon that refused to be extinguished even in the depth of shadows.

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Y/n paused at the top of the grand staircase, her hand resting lightly on the polished banister. Each step below seemed to stretch further away, a challenge laid out before her. She drew in a deep breath, bracing herself against the lingering weakness that clung to her limbs like the remnants of a bad dream. Halfway down, her breath came in shallow drafts and she leaned against the banister for a moment, closing her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the state of her body, she couldn’t remember the last time such small movements pained her.

Finally reaching the bottom, Y/n paused, gathering herself. The familiar scents of breakfast—a medley of sweetness and warmth—wafted through the air, grounding her. She stepped forward, each movement measured, as she refused to collapse here. Her pride could only take so much more of a beating, after sleeping for 16 days now.

As her presence filled the doorway, a hush fell over the room, every eye turning towards her. It was Rhys and Mor who reacted first, their chairs scraping back against the polished floor as they sprang to their feet, propelled by a mix of concern and elation. Mor, having sat closer to the doorway on purpose, reached Y/n first, her arms enveloping Y/n in a hug that was nothing short of bone-crushing.

"Y/n!" Mor exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion, as she finally allowed her grip to loosen slightly, mindful of Y/n's recent ordeal. “What were you thinking?!” she yelled. Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, scanned Y/n's face as if to reassure herself that she was truly okay, that she was really there.

Rhys, following closely behind, wore an expression of deep relief mingled with a hint of his usual charm. He extended his hand, but then, deciding against it, pulled Y/n into a gentle embrace, mindful of her recovery.

"You've been missed, Y/n. More than you know," Rhys murmured, before stepping back to give her some space, before ushering her into a seat.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze sweeping across the familiar faces now turned towards her with varying expressions of curiosity and concern. "Actually," she began, a trace of her old confidence threading through her voice, "could I speak with you—just you and Mor...in private?" She added at their shared look of surprise, "It's urgent."

Before they could respond, Cassian tried to lighten the mood. "Sure, but not before you try some of this breakfast. We've all been waiting for you." His attempt to guide her towards the table was met with a small, knowing smile from Y/n.

"You must be Cassian," she remarked, “You’re just as I remember”, amusement lacing her tone, sparking a ripple of surprised laughter around the room. Deciding that she wouldn’t win this argument, Y/n gracefully conceded, taking the seat next to Azriel. As she settled into the chair, Azriel's shadow drifted towards her. They moved with an almost sentient awareness, coiling gently around her arms and weaving through her hair with the softness of a whispered secret.

Azriel caught between concern and embarrassment, hastily retracted them. "Sorry," he muttered, cheeks tinged with a rare blush.

Y/n shook her head, hiding her surprise with a gentle smile playing on her lips. "I don't mind. Really."

She turned straight to Rhys and tapped on his mental shields, watching his eyes unfocus as his talons gave way to the spirals of her crimson magic.

How much do they know? She asked.

Just the basics. Rhys responded. I wanted you to decide on the rest.

And you still trust them?

With my life. Y/n, why don’t you stay–

Before Rhys could finish, Y/n closed their link, looking around the room before revealing, “As you know, my name is Y/n. I was raised alongside Rhys and his sister in Moonstone Palace.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “I left after her…after her death.” A pained glance shared between her and Rhys, with Mor resting her hand on her shoulder.

"I’ve seen and heard of Cassian and Azriel during visits to the Illyrian mountains, but it was so long ago. I'm not surprised no one remembers."

Azriel felt his heart stutter, wanting to know more about this enchanting faerie. How could she remember him, but he didn’t recall her? Before he could muster the courage to turn to her, to ask her what she thought, no, what she remembered of him, Y/n didn’t let the revelation sink in.

With the weight of her next words pressing down upon her, she continued "I can't stay for long. I have to return to Vallahan."

She raised her hand in a stopping motion, insisting on continuing before Rhys grabbed her hand and pulled her up and into the house’s study. The slammed door echoed the shocked faces around the table.

Finally, when it seemed as though they would continue past lunchtime, Y/n and Rhys emerged, both looking surprisingly frazzled as Y/n huffed up the stairs. Rhys announced to the room, now with the addition of Amren and Elain, that they would have renewed introductions during dinner.

Azriel tried to focus on the joy of seeing Y/n again for dinner, trying to swallow down the bit of jealousy he felt at her acknowledgment of Rhy and Cassian, and her subsequent engagement with the others. It wasn’t a new sensation, this feeling of being overshadowed by the more charismatic presence of his brothers. Historically, he had resigned himself to the background, comfortable in his silence, a watcher amidst the revelry. Yet, with Y/n, it felt different; though he had just met her, he wanted to be seen, to be the one she sought out, the one whose company she desired.

A/N: Hi everyone!! Thank you so much for the support -- I wasn't expecting so much interest and joy when I first posted! I hope that I can write something that makes you all feel as entertained and encaptured as fanfic authors have made me feel!

I just created a tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the previous parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕

TAGLIST: @strangelygreat @enfppuff @trip-n-sal @inloveallthetime @annamariereads16 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @annblvd @ania-swissweet @yearninglustfully @sleepylunarwolf @quiettuba @gorlillaglue25 @lilah-asteria

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar

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latanyalove · 5 months

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When You're Injured PT Two

So sorry for posting this so late! Thank you for all of the support in the previous part, which is here! Part 3 is coming soon! WC: 3,513.

Please support me by liking, reblogging and commenting on this! Also please follow for more content!

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Tag list: @metonimia-de-bellota, @veroxbarnes, @plan3t-plut0, @karichu19, @awkwardspontaneity, @drakulana, @twismare, @pascalmode, @bluegalaxygirl, @lavanderdreamve, @jxstmxlly15, @rivui, @norasincubi, @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial, @athena-portgas, @aechmea01, @rossetter and @phsycochan

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As Law worked on his paperwork, he felt the stress building inside him. He had been working on it for hours, and yet he still hadn't made any headway. He was starting to feel overwhelmed and frustrated by the seemingly never-ending pile of documents. He felt like he was wasting his time, and it was only making him more anxious.

Law took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task in front of him. He knew he could do it if he just stayed focused and kept pushing through. He took another deep breath and forced himself to keep going. He knew he could do this, and he was determined to finish the task.

Rubbing his temple, Law heard someone open the door. He looked up to see his navigator standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.

"Law, are you alright? You've been in here for hours and I was starting to worry," Bepo said.

Law nodded and tried to smile. "I'm doing alright, I just have a lot of paperwork to finish," he said.

Bepo nodded and stepped into his office. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked.

Law shook his head and smiled. "No, it's okay," he said. "I can handle it. But thank you for offering."

"Oh! Maybe I should bring Y/N to make you feel calm," Bepo said out loud as if it was supposed to be a thought.

Hearing your name made his eyes widen and his heart start to race. He quickly tried to compose himself, not wanting Bepo to know the affect your name had on him.

You were a special case.

Law had taken a rather special interest in you because of your Devil Fruit, the Yume Yume no Mi, the ability to shoot a cosmic ray to make people fall asleep for a desired amount of time or fall asleep so deep that they could die.

You also had the ability to control people's emotions, but only if a flower was present. He had found himself drawn to you and your ability, and you two had become close.

Although he was embarrassed to admit it, he felt calmer just by being around you.

"Have you seen her around recently?" He asked Bepo in an 'uninterested' tone.

Bepo shook his head and replied, "Nope but I saw her with Ikkaku going into the forest. Why do you ask?"

Law felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He knew that he had no right to be disappointed, but he couldn't help it. He had been hoping to see you to help him with his paperwork, and he had been looking forward to spending time with you.

He quickly brushed away his disappointment, not wanting Bepo to know how he felt. He forced a smile onto his face and said, "I was just wondering. I'm sure I can finish this by myself."

Bepo nodded, not seeming to notice Law's sudden mood change. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know. I'll be around," he said as he was about to leave his office.

"Hey Captain, I heard my name being said," Ikkaku said, looking at Law curiously. "What's going on?"

Ikkaku stepped into the room and saw Law and Bepo, both of them looking surprised to see her.

"Oh nothing-" Law started but Bepo continued, "We were talking about Y/N, wasn't she with you last? I heard you two were headed to the forest."

Ikkaku nodded, confirming Bepo's question. "Yes, we were. We were looking for some materials but we parted ways to cover more ground. Why do you ask?"

"We were just wondering if she was coming soon," Bepo added.

Ikkaku looked shocked as she said, "I thought she already came back since I didn't see her for a while,"

Law glanced towards the window, the sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon, casting a golden hue over the sky and painting the clouds a soft pink. The sky was alight with a mesmerizing array of colors, as the sun's final rays of the day illuminated the sky in a beautiful display.

Strange, he thought to himself, you should be back by now. You usually do a daily report to him before you go to sleep so it can't be that.

He couldn't help but worry, as he knew that the forest was a dangerous place and anything could have happened to you.

He finally decided. "I'm going for a walk," He said in a nonchalant tone. He wanted to check if you were okay. He figured a quick walk to the forest wouldn't hurt anyway.

He thanked Bepo and Ikkaku and left the office, quickly making his way to the forest.

Bepo and Ikkaku watched as Law left the office, both of them with a knowing grin on their faces. They knew he was worried about Y/N and was going to check up on you. They knew him that long to know that.

They watched him leave the submarine and jump onto the island, heading towards the forest.

Ikkaku stated, "Well I think Y/N likes Captain more than he realises." Bepo nodded in agreement, "I hope Captain returns her feelings."

The forest was dark and still, with a creepy atmosphere that even Law could sense. The shadows of the trees seemed to stretch out, creating a menacing atmosphere, and an eerie silence hung in the air. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying a chill that made Law's skin crawl.

He could feel eyes watching him as he made his way through the forest, and he could almost sense the danger that lurked in the darkness. He knew that this forest was full of unknown creatures and secrets, and he was careful to stay alert as he made his way forward.

"Y/N! Y/N, where are you!" Law yelled out as he gripped the sword firmly in his hand.

His voice echoed through the forest, but there was no reply. He kept calling out your name, but all he heard was the rustling of the trees and the chirping of the birds. He finally stopped and took a deep breath, his heart racing as he tried to think of what he should do next.

He was about to turn back when he heard a faint voice calling out his name.

He immediately rushed towards the voice, pushing himself to walk faster and faster as he heard the voice call out again. He could hear the pain in your voice, and it sent a wave of panic through him.

Did something happen to you? Was there anyone still on this island? Were they after you? Why you and not him?

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced through the silence, echoing through the forest and making Law jump in shock. Without thinking, he started to run, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced towards the source of the scream.

He was filled with dread as he ran, fearing the worst. He could feel his heart in his throat as he ran faster and faster, his feet pounding on the ground as he desperately ran towards the scream.

"Don't! Please stop!-"

Anger started to boil in him as he ran, his blood pumping through his veins as he thought of all the possible dangers you could be facing. He wanted to reach you as soon as possible and make sure you were safe.

He pushed himself harder, and soon he could see the clearing ahead. He was so close, and he could only hope that he was in time. . . .

"So what are pirates like you doing here?" you asked.

You had heard rumors about the Heart Pirates docking on your island, so when you saw a ship docked near the shore, you knew it was them. You approached cautiously, not sure what to expect.

Everyone seemed to be on edge, no one daring to approach the pirates or even speak to them. Everyone was aware of their reputation, and the potential danger that they could bring. All eyes were on them, and the atmosphere was tense. Everyone was cautious, not wanting to be seen as a threat.

But you were different. You walked straight towards them with a smile on your face, your steps firm and confident. You knew that if you showed any fear, they would take it as a sign of weakness and attack.

So you kept your head held high and your shoulders back, determined to show them that you were not afraid. You kept your gaze steady as you approached them, your heart racing as you wondered what they would do.

As you got closer, the Captain, Trafalgar D Water Law, looked up at you with caution. He had a stern expression on his face. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you up and down. He was clearly not expecting anyone to approach them, and he was apprehensive about the situation.

Despite his caution, there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze as he looked at you, as if he was trying to figure out who you were and why you were here. He seemed to be assessing the situation, trying to figure out if you were a threat or not.

He remained silent, his eyes never leaving your face as he waited for you to speak.

"So what are pirates like you doing here?" you asked.

He was slightly shocked at the calmness in your voice but still replied, "We're only here to repair our submarine and then we'll be gone."

The villagers, who had been whispering and murmuring to each other before, got louder and more animated after seeing your interaction with the captain. They seemed to be surprised and intrigued by your boldness and even more so by the captain's response.

They exchanged glances, whispers, and nods as they discussed what had just happened.

"By any chance, did you see any ships around-"

"Miss. Y/N! You can't run off like that!" An elderly woman screamed as she pushed her way through the crowd in front of her. "Master wants you back immediately!...."

When the woman saw you talking with Law, she became quiet and her eyes widened in shock. She stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open as she stared at the two of you. It was clear that she was completely taken aback by the scene before her.

"Master? Who's Master?" "I heard she's a slave for the Leader, the poor soul," "Look at her clothes, they're filthy,"

Like an unruly flame, rumors ignited and spread throughout the crowd. The certainty that couldn't be denied, even though it was only whispered within gossipy circles.

Law looked at you with a neutral expression, as if the rumours had no effect on him. His eyes were clear and his gaze steady, showing no signs of pity or sympathy.

He seemed to accept the situation as it was, without passing judgement.

Something you haven't seen in a while.

"Y/N L/N! You are to be taken back to your cell!" Royal guards stated loudly as they charged in the same direction.

The crowd parted to make way for the guards, and the woman stepped aside without a word. The guards were armed with guns and were determined to take you away. Law remained still and watched as the guards approached.

He seemed to be deep in thought, his brows furrowed in concentration. He looked up at you and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, you raised your hand up.

"Tell the leader not to follow me, I'm not coming back,"

At first thought, a cosmic ray shot from your hand and everyone except for you and Law had dropped to the ground. The villagers were unconscious, their bodies limp and their breathing shallow.

The Royal Guards had also been affected by the ray and the only sounds that could be heard were the faint whimpers from the villagers and the echoes of the guards' armor clattering on the ground.

Law stood in stunned silence, his eyes wide with shock as his gaze shifted from the unconscious villagers to you.

He had only one thought in his mind. He had to know more about your ability.

"What were you going to ask?"

"If you've seen any other ships around the area, it doesn't matter if it's a pirate ship. I just want to leave here-"

"Then come with me and join my crew."

He didn't know why that memory flashed in his mind. The time he had first met you.

Was it because he knew there was a chance that you could die? Or was it because he felt a deep connection with you in that moment? Or maybe it was something else entirely?

Whatever the reason, the memory of their first meeting stayed with him long after.

He ran faster and faster, his heart pounding as the memory kept playing in his head. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached, but he still kept going, as if running away from the memory would make it disappear.

"Sir! Please stop!"

"Looks like you've lost your manners. You only address me as Master," His voice was demanding, with a hint of anger.

"I'm sorry," There seemed to be a pause. "Master. I didn't realize I had lost my manners. It won't happen again."

"Now you are going to come with me and stop this little adventure of yours, you know you're mine,"

"I bought you. I own you. You are my possession. You don't just get to leave me when you want."

As the voices grew, he felt his heart racing with fear. He knew he was going to be confronted with something unpleasant, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

He knew he had to face whatever it was that was waiting for him, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was to come.

He saw a clearing ahead and what he saw made his blood run cold.

There was a man strangling you and you were grabbing his hands, trying to break free. He wanted to run in and save you, but he was frozen in place, unable to do anything.

He watched, helplessly, as the man tightened his grip around your neck, and he felt a rage unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He didn't know why, but the sense of rage and fear that had taken over his body made him forget everything else. He dropped his sword and ran towards them, not caring about the consequences and only focused on saving you. He was determined to do whatever it took to get you away from the man's grip.

Get away from her. Leave her alone. Don't touch her.

He felt a surge of adrenaline as he threw the man to the ground. He was filled with rage, and he could barely contain himself. He punched the man again and again, and the man let out a loud groan.

Law was determined to make sure the man wouldn't hurt you again. He kept punching him until his knuckles were bloody, and he could feel the man's body going limp beneath his fists. He continued to punch him until he felt the man's body go still, though he still wasn't satisfied.

Until suddenly, a sense of calmness filled his body, making him confused. He looked around, not quite sure what had just happened. He could feel his heart rate slowing down, and the anger slowly draining away from his body.

He felt a strange sense of peace and tranquility, as if he had just been released from a spell.

He was so overwhelmed by the sudden change that he didn't know what to do. He looked around and saw the man lying on the ground, unconscious and badly beaten.

There was no one else that could have made him feel like that. Except you.

He quickly turned around to look at you, your hand out towards him.

You used your power on him.

He could see the fear in your eyes, but there was also something else there, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He slowly walked towards you, never taking his eyes off you.

He felt a sudden surge of panic as he watched your hand drop to your side, and he rushed to your side.

He quickly put his ear to your chest, listening for your breathing and heartbeat. When he heard them, he let out a sigh of relief. He slowly placed his hands on either side of your face, gently cupping it in his hands. He looked into your eyes and smiled, relieved that you were still alive.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

"I- I'm okay," You answered, your voice shaking as you looked into his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

". . . . No,"

"He's not going to touch you again, I promise." Law reassured you, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "No one will ever hurt you again," he said in a soft voice, his eyes never leaving yours.

He reached up and ran his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye.

Even though you nodded at his statement, it did not provide him with any reassurance at all.

"Law?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"I don't think I'm going to make it back," You shakily said, lowering your shirt to reveal a green patch that was spreading across your arms and chest so that Law could see it.

Law's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the spots that had spread across your body. He had no idea what it meant, but he could tell that it wasn't good. He quickly put his hand on your forehead, feeling your temperature.

Too hot for you.

As soon as he noticed you were starting to close your eyes, he immediately stopped you and said, "Hey, hey, stay awake,"

"I'm sorry for troubling you-"

"You're not," Law replied, taking a position where he would be able to carry you while using one hand to grab the sword that he had dropped onto the floor.

It was then that he stood up with you and started to run back, now seeing that there were hundreds of men scattered across the area that lay motionless, having been the victims of your abilities.

When he looked down at your weak form, he wondered how on earth you had been able to defend yourself against so many people at once.

Please stay awake a little longer.

"Law?" Your lips trembled as your gaze wandered unconsciously across his chest.

"Yes Y/N? I'm right here, just keep talking."

"If I die, I just want you to know that I've liked you for a while now."

In the middle of his steps, he froze in place.

"What?"

All of his coursing thoughts were made into one single question: You liked him?

"I thought I was being too obvious but it seems that even the Surgeon of Death can't even catch on to things like that." You chuckled to yourself yet there was no amusement on your face.

As you glanced up at him, hoping to see if it was a smile or a grin, you were surprised to see that it wasn't either, but rather one of horror.

You knew it. He never did like you.

"Leave me here. More reinforcements are going to come now and they're stronger than ever. I'll keep them back so you can escape-"

"Stop talking."

"But-"

In an instant, a glance had you stop what you were going to say, instead you paid attention to your breathing and not the reaction that he showed to your confession.

Law was everything but calm at this point: you were currently dying of an unknown injury, more reinforcements were coming for you and you just confessed your feelings to him.

You were a big part of his problems, yet he couldn't just let you go.

There's never been a feeling like that for him before.

He would miss you even though he saw you an hour ago. He got into flowers because it was part of your ability. He'd let you stay in his office and he wouldn't mind.

For goodness sake, he ate bread because you asked him to!

Could it be that he was also in love with you?

Feeling your head drop back made him jump slightly, and he quickly moved to cradle you in his arms. He felt a chill run through his body as he realized you was slipping away.

He quickly put his fingers on your neck and felt for a pulse, but it was slow and fading. Fear began to surge through him as he realized that time was of the essence.

He didn't want to admit it but he was losing you. . . .

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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simplydnp · 1 month

Text

WAD: Cover Art

dan is still working on selling the distribution rights for We're All Doomed! so i decided to make some DVD/Blu-ray disc jacket art!

this is my attempt at a traditional jacket design! none of the images used are mine, but i did create the concept and design:

as i was making the first one for myself, i was struck by the fact that 'well, it's for me, so it doesn't have to look like a stereotypical jacket cover' which led me to be more artsy in my approach for the next one:

i was really enjoying the creativity and space to explore, so i went looking for more inspiration for a third design. this led me to dan's favourite Muse album: Origin of Symmetry, which i paid homage to:

after the first Muse album, i looked at their catalogue to see if there was more inspiration there. i was just thankful dan's favourite was easy stylistically to mimic, unlike say, 2009's The Resistance...

thank you @danielhowell for the inspiration!

nerdy stuff & reference pics below the cut!

General notes

i don't know how to use photoshop! i entirely brute-forced my way through the whole project, and the only tutorial i looked up was for the gradient text in the 4th cover

this wasn't even the original project i was working on! you'll eventually get to see that though

and this one also inspired art for the disc itself so stay tuned 👀

i will do anything for authenticity so these are Full of intentional details

matching fonts is a nightmare

the traditional cover

took the longest, as it was the first.

the barcode numbers are the date of the first video he uploaded on dinof, and the last tour show date (in m/d/y)

i changed 'iceland' to 'poland' on the front cover, as he never actually went to iceland, and poland wasn't ever on the list even though he did go there

the orange may look a little off-center in the front, but these designs need to include space for a spine between the front and back cover, i promise it's right 😂

the black and white cover

inspired by the 'i want to believe' aliens poster

the cover art comes from his metal band merch shirt design

i had to manually shrink the text, line by line, and ensure it all lined up on the back!

i even made the logos on the back greyscale

the Muse: Origin of Symmetry cover

a shockingly perfect style for a WAD cover. i'm so glad i used the cubes, even if they couldn't be orange.

there's some versions of the art online where the sky is even more orange and it baffles me how i haven't seen any parallels like this before

the Muse: The Resistance cover

this cover was never supposed to see the light of day! i meant it when i said i was grateful i didn't have to try to adapt this complex design... and yet, i tried anyway.

i did all the grid lines by hand, including the jagged/broken edge parts, shading each section, and then drawing every star.

the hardest part was getting the gradient on the back text to cooperate. photoshop's gradient settings are surprisingly limited

gotta shout out @amazingphil for being the reason i knew what this cover looked like--it's the only muse album i knew the art of before embarking on this quest!

obligatory sob story:

i've been extremely and suddenly ill for 6 months. it is difficult to function moment to moment, but especially in doing little things just for me. this is the first and only art project i've been able to feel inspired to not only work on, but to finish, and despite the pain and long hours, i enjoyed every minute of it. thank you, dan, for creating this space for me to explore, and thank you, everyone here, for being wonderful support during this time 💞

#it's finally here!! i hope you all love them as much as i do #dnp #c.text #dan and phil #daniel howell #phan art #hey phil look at this #we're all doomed #wad #c.art #word

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 8 months

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One thing I do like about TOTJ's take on Dooku's fall is that it really highlights that the Dark Side makes you absolutely masochistic. (Mega long post ahead).

One thing TOTJ establishes is that Qui-Gon's death is absolutely on Dooku (no matter if the show itself doesn't seem to be aware of it).

His tone is concerned and his attitude sympathetic and supportive, but he knows. He knows it's a Sith Lord (he even knows Maul's name). He knows Qui-Gon almost died and is marching right into another trap, but he asks questions anyway and affects ignorance.

"I've been warning them about the coming darkness for years," he says, "never to be taken seriously." Using the Council's skepticism as an occasion to complain about how they didn't believe him while lying by omission is a great case of that hypocrisy Dooku loves denouncing in others. Dooku would rather Qui-Gon share his disillusionment with the Jedi than actually do anything to help Qui-Gon. The Council don't believe him? Okay, Dooku, but YOU DO. You can just tell him what's going on.

But he doesn't.

On some level, Dooku has to be aware of what's about to happen. Qui-Gon is walking into grave danger, and Dooku's response to that - before it happens, when there is still time to stop it - is to put the blame on the people who don't know shit while not doing shit himself. (Why can't Dooku be there to protect Qui-Gon, other than because he's already slavishly loyal to Sidious' plans?)

And this moment puts every subsequent action of Dooku's throughout the Prequels in perspective - particularly his relationships with Obi-Wan, Ventress and Yoda.

Dooku is a glutton for punishment.

I've written here about why I think the 'Box' from TCW 4x17 is meant to parallel Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's mission on Naboo. The dioxis, ventilation shafts, the catwalks and lightsabers, the ray shields, the fire pit... Dooku's idea of a test to find the best mercenaries around is to have them survive what killed Qui-Gon (what he allowed to happen).

During the challenge, it's pretty obvious he starts to suspect Hardeen is Obi-Wan.

Or at the very least, he's taking an interest in the man who supposedly killed Qui-Gon's own apprentice - Dooku's spiritual grandson (see RotS novelization), whom he's been trying very hard to either recruit or kill himself. And what does he do with that interest? Tries to push "Hardeen" to kill Eval in anger.

Dooku, who still mourns the Padawan he knowingly let walk away to his death, watches a pantomime of his Padawan's death, while putting in mortal danger all he has left of said apprentice. If he knows Hardeen is Obi-Wan (and it's pretty obvious that he does), he tries to get Obi-Wan to Fall (or potentially die) in a scenario reenacting Qui-Gon's death. If he doesn't know for sure, then he's encouraging his all but grandson's killer to win the tournament because he admires him (for killing someone Dooku wanted by his side).

Whatever the outcome, Dooku chooses to relive his guilt and chooses to make the same choice to kill his loved one all over again, even though we know he hates that he made this choice:

He misses Qui-Gon and needs him but tries to kill or destroy Obi-Wan, whom he needs and wants by his side. (I haven't counted just how many time he does try killing Obi-Wan in TCW while still expressing his indefectible admiration for him - it's frequent, the Box just stands out to me as one of the most noteworthy occasions.)

And he keeps doing stuff like that!! He keeps choosing the path that causes him the most pain. He does it with Sifo-Dyas, he does it with Yaddle, he does it with Yoda and he does it with Ventress.

Just look at him confronting Sidious about Qui-Gon's death:

He KNOWS following Sidious got Qui-Gon murdered and he KNOWS Sidious will continue to kill or order him to kill people close to him. And yet he's quick to reassure Sidious that this doesn't change anything. Securing his position with Sidious matters more than his rage and grief. The ONLY WAY this behavior makes sense is if Dooku is fully aware that he had a choice about Qui-Gon's fate, and decides that this is the path he's on now: Sidious might make him kill everyone he cares about, but he's going to do it. Every time, things will play out the same.

Sidious tells him to kill Ventress, his new apprentice? Sure, why not!

(And it's not even out of true loyalty for Sidious, because he constantly tries to double-cross him later on. It's pure self-destruction:)

He hates it, Sidious promises him more of it, and he goes along with it!

This is why Yaddle's attempts at bringing him back don't work, in my opinion:

"Whatever lies he's told you, whatever you have done, you can make up for it now by bringing him to justice." This might convince a man who is looking for atonement, except Dooku isn't. He is looking for punishment.

Killing or harming those close to him leaves him broken, furious or in pain? He'll just keep doing it.

Sidious offers him nothing more than agonizing slavery? He'll keep on kneeling.

That's when Yaddle literally offers him the Light - the light that is so much more powerful than the Dark that it has Sidious cowering, the light that can save him if he wants - Dooku just strikes her down, even though he was heartbroken over thinking he had killed her just a moment ago.

He chooses to kill her, regrets it and hates himself for it, and chooses to kill her again. HE KEEPS MAKING THE CHOICE THAT HE KNOWS WILL HURT.

His remedy to guilt is to pick a shovel, because by God if he hasn't hit rock bottom yet he's going to dig!

#long post #meta #dooku #darth sidious #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #yoda #yaddle #tales of the jedi #count dooku

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chosok-amo · 3 months

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Sukuna that has a big fat crush on his lil bro Yuuji's upperclassmen friend that tutors him🤭💞

SHAPESHIFTED: RYOMEN SUKUNA

she was there, sitting beautifully and started filling the room, it was hard not to notice her glisten, when all the lights in the room— even the moon that peaks from the creek of the window darted like a spotlight on her, ‘your eyes might not be the color of the ocean but I get drown just by taking a secret glance, how do you do that? shapeshited and makes me fall in love with you?’

content warning: fluff, nothing else

sorry it takes me a lot of time to write this, I'm busy working on my thesis right now, and sorry I don't make exactly like your request but I hope you enjoy it 😊

THIS WAS FROM SUKUNA'S POV

UH OH, I'M FALLING IN LOVE

the moon is bright and the day is still young, i was just walking downstairs when i heard my brother's voice alongside a soft, feminine unfamiliar one. i kept my feet moving until i was able to see who the voice belonged to. she is sitting there with her small back facing me, body so tiny i'm afraid her friends had to lose her every time they were walking in the crowd. i keep on looking at her small frame until the brother of mine snaps me out of my own thought.

“sukuna.”

and just like that, she turned around, finally showing me how pretty someone could get with a honey voice like that. and suddenly, our eyes locked and if this is what people tell you about love at first sight i think they're having no idea what they were talking about. it doesn't make my head fuzzy and the world doesn't stop moving and the noise isn't running faded into the background like the movie show, but this? i feel hurt inside my chest like my heart alone wants to run and give it to her by itself.

she stands, showing me the biggest and the brightest someone could ever smile, it's beautiful, it's like a symbol of happiness, she looks happy, she looks like art even. and art was supposed to make you feel something, maybe that could explain why my heart is trembling. a quiet curiosity was planted into my chest, brain and I knew it was only a matter of time before she sunk beneath my bones, nurtured this deep-seated unfamiliarity into love so fierce, yet blithering, carefree and unconcerned, hopefully— that I would question if I had ever been in love before.

my hand becomes one with her, skin to skin as she takes my hand for her to hold— wishing it could stay longer after the void of nothingness hugging my hand back. she introduced herself to me but all I could hear was just the thunder underneath my flesh, underneath my ribs. yuji looking at me weirdly, doesn't get used to the way I reacted, i can feel his brown big eyes practically narrowing at me, but I choose not to pay him attention.

“she's going to tutor me, please don't do anything stupid or make too much noise,” he warned me. i flutter my eyes before catching a sight of him with his eyebrows up to his forehead. I rolled my eyes before waving my hand, and dismissed him off as if it meant nothing— well, It is, indeed. I'm a quiet person, unlike him, I'm not a menace to society. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” in boredom, i said to him and brought my feet to walk away from the living room to go to the kitchen.

i take a pack of cheese out of the fridge and slam it lightly on the counter. put pressure on the counter with my two palms before letting out a sigh. looking at the invisible living room, hoping my eyes suddenly had an x-ray superpower to take a glimpse of her again but to fail. “of course, what the fuck was I thinking?” a mumble under my breath could be heard. dramatically, I put my hand to my chest— hesitation felt in my blood. as I was feeling the thunder in my heart, I wail.

my knee abruptly turns into jelly, no longer having the ability to support my body as I slide down to the floor, back sticking to the wall of the counter. “what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck— what the fuck?!” I yell in whispered, finger pointing at my heart with narrowed eyes. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked, hoping there was some machine error inside of me that's gonna be the cause of whatever was happening inside.

“you like her,” there's a whisper.

I laugh humourless, forcing myself. “yeah, bless her delusional heart,” I scoff while rolling my eyes. I do not like her, in fact, I despise her. her weirdly bright smile does not give me a whole damn zoo, her honeyed voice does not calm my nerves. she's not gonna be something I be thinking about for a whole week. she's just my brother's friend. just looking at her I can tell she's gonna be an annoying person and weird. “right, she must be a bitch,” I mumble, talking gibberish just so I can convince myself.

“she's beautiful, doesn't she?” that whisper again.

I went quiet for a moment, getting pulled by nostalgia back to a moment ago. my red eyes stared at nothingness dreamingly without I realized. the smile she gave kept replaying inside my head like a broken record, “yeah, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.” the whisper could be heard, over and over again, hypnotising me to keep thinking about her.

“you like her, don't you?”

“do I?”

the whispered whispering in my ear as I felt a hot wind clouding my ear. and that time I realized that it wasn't my head tricking me, that wasn't some demon or angel like you see in movies whispering to someone. “oh you sure do,” again with the whispering. quickly I snap my neck to the side only to find yuji with his ugly ass face close to me. “what the fuck— Yuji!” he laughed as I jumped in surprise.

he stands straight as he puts both hands inside his pocket. “you look stupid, what are you doing sitting there?” he asks, smiling knowingly while his eyebrows arise. I cleared my throat before shrugging my shoulder, “just chilling,” I mumbled. he just kept looking at me for a while before rolling his eyes. “man, you're so weird when you're in love, so fucking weird,” he sight and walk away. i stand in second, “what the fuck do you mean?” I asked, feeling offended obviously. he just waved his hands nonchalantly without looking back.

“uh oh, am I falling in love?”

OH NO, I'M FALLING IN LOVE

“is that blood?”

she looked up at me blankly, no thought behind those eyes, looking dumbfounded as she battled her eyelashes like she was trying to process the information. “y/n, is that blood?” I asked again. “no?” she answered with another question. I rolled my eyes, “that's not a question you were supposed to answer with another question,” I told her, seeing her white skirt got stained with something red. she pulled her skirt, showing me a quite big scar on her knee, “i fell,” she whimpered as if she was about to cry. her big doe eyes looking at me with quiver lips. I bit my lower lip, trying to contain myself from laughing and cooing at how cute she looked right now.

“wait here.”

I patted her head before going to the kitchen and coming back with a box of first aid kits in hand. I sit myself next to her and pull her closer by her under the knee. “you're so clumsy,” I mumble— treating her wounds. I took a glimpse of her before looking down at her knee. a light chuckle left me without I realized. there she is, eyes shut tightly, one hand covers her mouth while the other one knead with eyebrows narrowed— oh god, she's so cute.

“don't laugh,” she wailed, hitting my shoulder lightly.

again, I laugh, “sorry y/n, you're just too cute— alright, I'm done.”

after, I brought my face to look at her only to find her face changed into bright red as if all of her blood was rushing to her head. “are you okay?” I asked, worried if her wounds might be the cause of her state. “—your face is red, are you feeling hurt?” I asked again. my backhand touched her forehead, “you're burning, should we go to the doctor? I think yuji—”

“you shouldn't say something like that so casually,” she finally opened her mouth but her voice came out nearly whispering. I feel my forehead frown when the confusion consumes me. “huh? what?” she stared at me for a while, and I never knew that ‘for a while’ could bring so many things to my veins. they're doing it again, the hurt in my chest, the adrenaline rushing through my blood. my heart beating so fast it's literally banging on my flesh, so loud I'm afraid she can hear it.

she smiles, “I'm fine.”

I cleared my throat as I looked away for a second before pointing at her skirt. “go change your skirt, it's dirty. yuji might take a while to come home and I refuse to let you ride your stupid bike again after the stunt you pulled,” I said. she's open her mouth, about to protest before I look at her with a stern look, making her change her mind in a split second without me even realising. so without saying anything I went to my room and came back with a black shorts. “thanks,” she mumbled softly as her hand reached the shorts before going to the bathroom. I wait for her to change and sit in the living room, switching the tv on.

for a few minutes, I sat there in silence until she was slowly sitting back at the end of the sofa. my mind went blank with the tv noise as a background sound while pleasing her with a glance one to two— she looked straight to the tv but I know she watched nothing. pretty little hands fiddling with the fabric of my shorts that she's wearing. and maybe that's not gonna stay mine any longer since she looked better in it than me. would it be weird if I wanted her to keep the short? especially when I'm not her boyfriend.

“did yuji know you're here?” I asked, not very fond of the silence that filled the room, also trying not to corrupt my mind with something I shouldn't think about. “yeah, but he hasn't replied yet, but we made a plan a week ago, so yeah..” I nodded. just like that we flew back again to where we were before— silences.

we stay like that for a good minute until I hear soft giggles, making me turn my head to look at where the sound comes from— her. her eyes were already looking at me, “why do you keep looking at me?” she asked. I was stunned, mouth shut as I realized I never looked away from her. “you staring, am I that beautiful for you to keep your eyes on me?” she jokingly said, another fit of soft giggles leave her pretty mouth, making me smile in return. I kept looking for a while then nodded, “yeah, you're that beautiful,” I breathe. and just like that her smile quickly faded into the void and faced the other way. I feel giddy seeing her shy state and this time, my turn to giggle.

“are you shy, y/n?” I asked.

she quickly hid her face with the palms of her hands, looking away. I move closer, “are you shy, y/n?” I asked again, teasingly as I poked her shoulder. a muffled voice of squealing could be heard. she moved her shoulder as I kept on poking her. I hold her wrist and pull it out of her face only for her to stiffen her hands and giggle. “oh come on, let me see that beautiful face of yours,” I laughed a little. she shook her head and again, tried to turn away. I kept on pulling her hands, and the moment I successfully pulled her hands away, it was already too late to realize that our face was an inch away.

her cheeks were crimson red, plump lips were slightly open as her hot breath touched my cheeks. and again, everything starts to blur, noise muffled to the background. I force my lips to put on a tight line for a moment as I look into her eyes to her lips, suddenly having the urge to kiss her. it's not like I don't have the urge to kiss her every time for nearly two months, but this time? I feel like I'm gonna die and regret the way I live for the rest of my life if I don't feel the softness of her lips in mine.

“can I kiss you?” so I asked, whispering.

“yes,” she whispered back.

I never realized a single word can mean so much to me. who knows an agreement from someone can make my heart beat so fast but this time I'm not afraid if she heard the beating, I want her to hear the beating, I want her to know that my heart already belonged to her way before I have the right to, as if it was hers in the first place. my eyes widened after the second I realized, oh no, I'm falling in love.

OH, I'M FALLING IN LOVE

“are you there?” a soft voice from the other side asks.

I let out a sigh, unintentionally making a cloud of smoke in the air while I hugged my body with one hand while the other one pressed the tiny technology in my ear. “physically yes, mentally is debatable,” I told her. shivering got nailed in my body, caused by the cold weather. I chew my lips, hoping it starts to warm soon. soft smile printed on my lips after I hear angelic giggles from the other side, “oh please, don't be party pooper, I'll be there with you in a second,” she said.

I waited a moment before my body got slammed into the tree by something tiny and soft. a hand pulled my neck before the warmness touched my lips. I let out a relief breath as I made a circle around the waist of her. my eyes closed, following the way her lips moved on mine. “that's not fair, y/n, you can't corrupt me with something like that,” I complained after the kisses broke. she smiles, “but you love it.” I rolled my eyes in annoyance before smiling back at her.

she opened her bag and pulled out something pink. my eyebrows instantly lifted as I caught her eyes sparkling. “what is it?” I ask, cautiously. she wrapped my neck with the ‘something pink’ that turns out to be a scarf. “It's cold, you should wear something to keep you warm,” she said, still smiling. “but it's pink,” again, I complained. this time, it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “yeah, and?” she asked, looking confused as if I said something stupid with the oblivion. “i know it is pink,” she chuckled.

“i don't want to wear it, it's pink. I mean, did you even look at me? the tattoo on my face? the red in my eyes?”

she became more confused, “it doesn't match my vibe,” I told her, only for her to roll her eyes. “oh please, you look cute,” she sang happily, fixing the scarf around my neck. “but I don't want to look cute, please take this off,” I argued while trying to take the scarf off. she slap my hand in return, “but I made this for you,” she pouting, eyes almost looking like a dog. I was stunned, eyes wide open with her beautiful reflection in my iris. “you made this?” she nodded, still pouting. I let out a sigh, “fine.” out of thin air, the sparkle that was before lost in her eyes now bolting back, brightening it before I even realised.

under the cold weather, those eyes and all the sparkle made me feel warm. I could wear anything pink, from head to toe, I could do anything just so I could get to see those eyes simmering with the warmth of happiness. her and those eyes, I'm willing to kiss the ground she walked to, each step, if it means her eyes would be on me.

“kuna, come on, walk faster!”

she looked behind her— me, smiling with her hand that was covered with a thick glove waving at me. “be careful, it's slippery,” I told her. she stopped for a moment to hold my hand and softly dragged me to the fun fair. I watched her frame from behind, eyeing the way her body moved, gracefully like art in motion. her cheeks blended with crimson pomegranates as if all of the splendour of winter bent to her will. people say everything was a reflection of lights, and maybe that could explain her, she was the combination of all the prettiest light that exists.

she's beautiful and adorable and warm and everything in between. the first time you meet someone you're not gonna notice the waves of their hair, but the first I meet her I notice each wave, the way she stands, and speak, and smiles, her face becomes something I'll be thinking about next week, and five months ago I don't even know she exists but now i don't know if I'll still exist if she's not here.

she's more beautiful than any flower, she's like gold at the end of a rainbow, she's like a light of sunshine beneath the thunderstorm. just like the old poem said, If I had told the sea about her, what I felt about her, it would have left its shores, its shells, its fish, and followed me. its would have been filled with curiosity about the girl who's been shaking the sky and sea, the cause of my religiously praying when I don't even believe in god.

how does she shapeshifted like this? she becomes something I admire. the things that I usually overlook now become something that I desire. how did she do that? how did she make me fall in love with her?

oh, I'm falling in love.

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers

Toothpaste

Noodles

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran”

Peanut butter

Sunny D

Thyme

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :)

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero.

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop.

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him.

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs.

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her.

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.”

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket.

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer.

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.”

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.”

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.”

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach.

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished.

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls.

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips.

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them.

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even.

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?”

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides.

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face.

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief.

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?”

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.”

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?”

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs,

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

—

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly.

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled.

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours.

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before.

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife.

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold.

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home.

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from.

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids.

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer.

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come.

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess.

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items.

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables.

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking.

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair.

“Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?”

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.”

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away.

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family.

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy.

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit.

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior.

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa.

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies.

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to.

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying.

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left.

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like.

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is.

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.”

The end

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine @b-irock @enam3l @luxaeterna13 @manda-panda-monium @elthreetimes @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #honey i’m home #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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iso7010 · 24 days

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hi all, this one goes to a friend's family and i can vouch it is legitimate.

from the gfm itself:

Dear friends and loved ones. Asking for help is never easy. It requires a vulnerability that many find uncomfortable, a humility that challenges our pride. Yet, there are moments when the agony of watching your family suffer outweighs the burden of swallowing your pride. In those moments, when every heartbeat echoes the pain of those you love, the choice becomes clear: to ask for help or to watch in silent despair. My brother Karam Ishtaiwi and I, are reaching out to you with a heavy heart and a plea for an urgent help for our family whom their lives, homes, dreams were destroyed and they were displaced from northern Gaza to southern part of Gaza. Starting with my dad to my youngest nieces and nephews are 69 family members. Every family member of them holds a unique significance. Each child, woman, or elderly relative represents a world of memories, a bond that transcends time and distance. Their smiles, their tears, their presence - each one a precious piece of the puzzle that forms the foundation of who we are. The shadows of war descended, tearing apart their world and leaving them displaced, forced to flee to the south, leaving behind all they held dear to find themselves without shelter, proper food, or even basic medical care. Their once vibrant lives have been reduced to mere survival, each day a struggle against the ravages of conflict. With your support, we aim to raise funds to provide a lifeline for those who mean the world to us. Your contributions will help us evacuate some family members from Gaza to Egypt, ensuring their safety, while also providing essential food and medical necessities to sustain those left behind. Join us in this humanitarian mission to offer a ray of light in their darkest hour. Together, we can make a difference and show that compassion knows no borders, that humanity prevails even in times of turmoil. Your donation, no matter how small, will go a long way in bringing relief and hope to our family as they navigate the challenges of displacement and war. Let's stand together and be the beacon of hope they desperately need. Thank you for your generosity and kindness. With your support, we can rewrite this family's story from one of despair to one of resilience and hope. Love.

and this is "proof" if it's needed, we're talking to this family member whom we trust, he'd not lie about any of this. Please let this reach its goal:

#endisraelsgenocide #gaza #palestine

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inmyfxith · 1 year

Text

Blessed Union

Pairing: Neteyam x human!reader

Summary: Neteyam and you are in a serious relationship, but Neytiri and Jake believe your inability to procreate makes it impossible. Eywa sees your love and blesses you with a spiritual pregnancy.

A/N: Neteyam and you are around 20.

Warnings: None

Words: 3k3

-> Requested

Pandora was a remarkable place, not only because of its breathtaking biodiversity, but also because of the beings that inhabited this distant moon from your birthplace. In just a few short years, your human existence had completely changed. You had gone from a human lost in a wonderland to the potential future partner of the leader of a recognized clan.

Sitting on top of a hill, you watched the sunrise. The sky was painted with shades of pink and orange, and the clouds seemed to glow with the rising sun. A feeling of peace suddenly washed over you as you enjoyed the beauty of the landscape. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill your lungs and the first rays of the sun warm your skin.

When your eyes opened again, the sun was already above the horizon, casting its scorching glow over the forest. You sat there for a while, simply enjoying the solitude and peacefulness. It was a moment of pure beauty and serenity. A shadow passed through the sky so quickly that it took you a few minutes to realize that it was Neteyam's ikran floating in the air to join you.

“You look so handsome up there,” you called out to him as he gracefully landed next to you. Neteyam's smile was nothing short of infectious as he came to sit next to you.

“Thank you, my love,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on the top of your head, your face being inaccessible due to your exopack. You felt your cheeks flush and a warmth spread through your body. Moments like these always reminded you of how lucky you were to have Neteyam in your life. He was not only physically attractive, but also kind and loving, and your love was special.

As tradition dictated in his clan, upon the death of his father, Neteyam would become the new Olo'ektan, the leader of his clan, and you knew he was working hard to live up to his father's greatness.

“My love,” he began, “we’ve been together for long and I can’t imagine going through this journey without you by my side.” Neteyam took your tiny hand into his. “You have been a constant source of strength and support for me, and I know that you would be an amazing tsahik.”

Your heart filled with pride and joy as you listened to his words. Your hands found their way to his cheeks and your thumbs caressed his soft, blue skin. “I promise to do my best to live up to your efforts. I am proud of you, Neteyam, and so honored to be able to stand by your side,” you said. The young man leaned in to place another kiss on the top of your head, his eyes shining with love and determination.

Together, you remained there for a moment, enjoying the moment, knowing that your love was strong enough to weather any storm.

As a human, it had taken you some time to adapt to Neteyam's clan. Due to the actions of your kin, many Na'vi had been hostile to your presence in the High Camp, and you often had to endure disguised criticism or whispered conversations in a language you were not yet fully familiar with. Over time, tensions had eased somewhat, it was still too early to talk about trust, but the Omaticaya were now more affable towards you. Bringing fruits and other herbs collected on the way to the laboratory to the family of your beloved, your run was however stopped when you heard voices rise from the hut of the current Olo'ektan, Jake Sully, Neteyam's father. According to what you could perceive, Jake was in the company of his wife, Neytiri. Not wanting to disturb them, you simply waited near the hut, becoming an involuntary witness to their conversation.

“We must do something, Jake,” Neytiri began, her voice full of concern, “It seems clear that Neteyam's mate is not able to bear children. As the future Olo'ektan, it is his duty to produce offspring for the clan. With her around, our future is in danger.”

“I understand your concern, talking to them will probably not be a viable solution. They seem to love each other deeply, and it would be unfair to end their love in the name of tradition. Maybe we could find a way to...convince him to let go of this relationship and choose a mate who can fulfill his duties as a leader,” Jake replied. His mate sighed, pacing around the hut.

“I know you're right, but what other options do we have? I don't like the thought of causing Neteyam pain, but you're right. The needs of the tribe must come first. We'll have to find a way to gently persuade him to see reason."

Understanding the terms of the conversation taking place under the tent, your heart tightened. The basket filled with fruit that you held in your hands hit the ground, spilling its contents on the ground of the camp. Without a word, you ran out of the Omaticaya's cave, tears rolling down your cheeks as you delved into the forest. You couldn't bear the thought of losing Neteyam and everything you had built together. Your foot hit a root, causing you to fall to your knees. Holding your head in your hands, you hadn't realized that the Tree of Voices was now rising in front of you.

Minutes passed without you being able to stop crying. A hand rested on your shoulder, and without even looking up, you knew that Neteyam had arrived.

"Y/N, what's wrong?”

“I-I heard your parents talking,” you choked out, your voice shaking with emotion. “You need a mate who can have children, and I can’t do that. I-I just don’t want to lose you.”

Neteyam knelt down beside you, taking your small body in his arms and offering you all the comfort you needed. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “I don't care about having children. I just want to be with you. You're the only one that matters to me.” You sniffled and looked up at him, your eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him before burying your face in his chest again. He held you tightly, as if to prove to you that no one could ever stand between him and the woman he loved. As you gradually regained your senses, sitting on Neteyam's lap with your face against his chest, you quietly meditated, trying to erase from your mind what you had heard.

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Neteyam whispered to you again. When you did, dozens of woodsprites were floating in the air, surrounding Neteyam and you. Admiring the spectacle that the goddess Eywa was offering you, you extended your hand, palm up, and a woodsprite landed on it.

“It seems I'm not the only one who has chosen you.” Neteyam smiled slightly, happy to see that the pure and sacred spirits were on your side.

The next few days passed without much trouble. You continued to meet Neteyam at the top of your hill every morning, as a little ritual before starting the day. As a natural reaction to what you had heard, your behavior towards Neteyam's parents became colder, more distant. You were still polite and relatively friendly, but nothing more.

However, as time passed, a singular tiredness began to consume you slowly. No matter how much sleep you gave yourself, you felt continually down. This situation worried your mother, who, despite being a doctor, had no expertise in human medicine. She kept a close eye on you, putting her hand on your forehead to monitor your temperature, but your condition seemed to be getting worse by the day.

Your fatigue was soon followed by weight loss, your cheeks gradually hollowing out, your bones becoming more visible without any clear explanation for your sudden condition. Neteyam was not fooled either, he was also worried to see you in this state and had repeatedly offered to speak to his grandmother, Mo'at, who knew the flowers and herbs of Pandora better than anyone else and whose knowledge was equal to that of the greatest Olo'ektan of the Tawkami clan. But you always refused, not wanting to give Jake and Neytiri another argument to chase you away.

One morning, as the sun was about to emerge from the horizon, you tried to climb to the top of your hill to meet Neteyam who was about to land on his ikran. But as you climbed the steep path, your legs began to feel heavy and your already diminished energy flew away like a feather in the wind. You tried to keep going, determined to reach the top, to see Neteyam, but, exhausted, you ended up stumbling down the path in the opposite direction. Just as you were about to pass out, a voice called out to you softly. Neteyam had run to you after seeing you from the sky, his facial expression reflecting the immense concern he felt.

You were thin and fragile, your skin pale and clammy. Neteyam led you back to his camp, to his grandmother's hut, hoping it wasn't too late to help you.

As he approached the hut, he saw Jake Sully standing outside, a worried look on his face. "What happened?" Jake asked as Neteyam approached.

"I found her on the hill," Neteyam replied, his voice heavy with concern. "She's sick and in pain. I think she broke something."

Mo'at sat quietly by your side, her eyes closed in concentration as she prayed to Eywa for the health and safety of her patient. She had prepared a number of herbal concoctions to help strengthen your body and boost your immune system, and she carefully administered them one by one.

Neteyam stood nervously by your side, watching as Mo'at worked. He had tried to speak to his father about your condition, but Jake had been too consumed with the preparations for the ceremony to pay much attention. Neteyam was worried about you, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was not right.

As the day passed and the sun began to set, Mo'at placed a gentle hand on your belly. She frowned, feeling something unsettling beneath her fingertips. She turned to Neteyam with a grave expression.

"Neteyam," she said, her voice heavy with concern. "Your mate is with child."

Neteyam's eyes widened in shock. "A child?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mo'at nodded gravely. "It is early yet, and it is small. But it is there, and it is growing."

Neteyam's mind raced as he tried to process this information. He had always known that you were not as strong as the Na'vi, and he had worried about your ability to survive. But a child? He had never even considered the possibility.

As he stood there, trying to come to terms with this revelation, Mo'at placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Do not worry," she said softly. "Eywa will guide us and protect your mate and your child. We will do everything we can to ensure their safety and well-being."

Neteyam nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over him at Mo'at's words. How could his mate be with child? They had never made love, and he couldn't fathom any other possibility.

As he sat lost in thought, his mind raced with possibilities. He immediately went back to the night under the Tree of Voices, when the woodsprites had surrounded them. Could that have had something to do with your sudden pregnancy?

Because of the complex and unprecedented nature of the child's conception, Mo'at insisted on keeping you under observation in her hut. At the time, when she told you that a child was growing in your belly, you didn't believe her, thinking that your mind was playing tricks on you. However, as the days passed and your belly grew, the news became more and more real.

Your mother was not happy about this news and when she came to exchange your exopack with another one, she was shocked by your situation. She entered under the hut, her face distorted by anger. "What does this mean? My daughter is pregnant and you're standing there watching calmly," she shouted at Neteyam who was standing beside you.

Neteyam raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "I understand that you are upset, but try to understand that it was not intentional. We never...I am just as confused as you are about how this happened."

Your mother's expression softened as she turned to you. "Are you sure you're pregnant?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. You nodded, tears streaming down your face.

"I don't know how it happened either, but I'm sure I'm carrying a child."

Mo'at, who was quietly preparing herbal concoctions in a corner of the hut, spoke up. "It is possible that the child was conceived under the tree of voices. The woodsprites are known to bless couples who pray to Eywa under its branches."

Your mother let out a sigh of frustration. "This is all so confusing. I just want what's best for my daughter."

Neteyam stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "I also want what's best for her. I will do everything in my power to keep her and the child safe and happy."

Your mother looked at Neteyam with a mixture of anger and gratitude. "I hope you mean that," she said before turning to leave the hut. Neteyam watched her leave before turning back to you and taking your hand in his.

This pregnancy was rapid, in just three months your belly had swollen so much that you could hardly move without the help of another person. Thanks to Mo'at's care, your fatigue had decreased and your physical condition had clearly improved so much that she allowed you to escape her surveillance for an evening.

With Neteyam, you had not gone very far for fear of not being able to return. You had simply settled in the heights of the camp, together, far from prying eyes. Your heavily pregnant belly sticking out in front of her, Neteyam was sitting beside you, his hand gently resting on the roundness of your belly as he spoke softly to the baby growing within you.

"You are my little miracle, my son," he whispered, his eyes filled with love and wonder. "I will do everything in my power to protect you and your mother. You are both the most precious things in the world to me."

You smiled up at Neteyam, your hand covering his as you both felt your baby's movements. “I can’t believe how much he has grown,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I can feel him kicking and moving inside you. It’s like he’s already a part of us.”

“I can’t wait to meet him,” you answered softly. “I know he’s going to be strong and brave, just like his father.”

Neteyam leaned down and kissed your forehead, his eyes full of love. “I promise to always be there for him, to protect him and guide him. He will always be my greatest treasure.”

Your heart swelled with love, and tears welled in your eyes, as you listened to Neteyam’s words. You knew without a doubt that he would be a devoted and loving father to your child.

As the moments ticked by, Neteyam and you lay together in peaceful silence, your love for each other and your unborn child filling the air around you.

-----

Neteyam paced outside of Mo'at's hut, his heart racing with anxiety. He couldn't bear to hear the sound of your screams echoing through the air. Every time you cried out in pain, his heart seemed to stop. Jake, who had been standing beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "It's going to be alright, son. Your grandmother knows what she's doing."

But Neteyam couldn't shake the feeling of dread that seemed to be settling in his chest. He couldn't imagine life without you, and the thought of losing you during childbirth was almost too much to bear. Finally, the screams stopped, and Neteyam froze. For a moment, he couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was certain that his worst fears had come true.

But then Mo'at appeared in the doorway, a wide smile on her face. "You have a son, Neteyam. A strong, healthy son."

Neteyam walked into Mo'at's hut, his heart racing with excitement and nerves. As he approached the bed, he saw you, covered in sweat and tears, holding a tiny bundle in your arms. He rushed to your side, taking your hand in his own.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice shaking with emotion.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you smiled up at him. "We have a son," you whispered.

Neteyam's heart swelled with love and pride as he looked down at the small, blue-skinned baby nestled in your arms. He had a head full of jet-black hair, and big, bright eyes that seemed to take in everything around him. His tiny fingers were wrapped around your thumb, holding on tight.

Neteyam reached out a hand, gently brushing his son's fingers open so he could stroke his soft skin. "He's beautiful," he whispered, tears welling up in his own eyes.

You smiled at him, your own tears of joy and exhaustion mixing together. "He looks just like his father. He's our little miracle,” you said softly.

Neteyam leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then to the top of his son's head. He knew that from that moment on, everything in his life would revolve around these two people, and he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his days loving and protecting them.

-----

Neteyam stood behind his son, his strong arms wrapped around the small child as he gently guided his hands on the bow. A sense of pride and nostalgia was swelling in his chest. He remembered the day his own father had first taught him how to hold a bow, the weight of it in his hands feeling like a rite of passage. The five year old looked up at his father with wide, curious eyes, taking in every movement and instruction with eagerness.

"That's it, my little hunter," Neteyam said with a soft smile. "Just like that. Now, let's see if you can hit the target."

The little boy nodded determinedly and focused on the distant target, taking a deep breath before releasing the arrow. It flew straight and true, hitting the center of the target with a satisfying thud.

Neteyam beamed with pride as he lifted his son off the ground, swinging him around in a joyful embrace. "Well done, son! You have the makings of a great hunter."

As they practiced together, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the clearing. Neteyam couldn't help but sneak glances at you, who were watching them with a soft smile on your face. He knew that you were just as proud of your son as he was, and it warmed his heart.

As they wrapped up their lesson for the day, Neteyam lifted his son into his arms, giving him a warm embrace.

"I'm so proud of you, my little warrior," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on his son's forehead.

The little boy giggled and snuggled closer, and Neteyam knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be - with his family, surrounded by love and joy.

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