#i really hope i managed to explain the horizon stuff well too ;-;

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: Greta Van Fleet stumble across a demonic possession and, of course, end up making things like 20x worse

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: I mean, this is based on the Exorcist, so demons and v*mit and really, really coarse language

Notes: This one goes out to @jmkho for her birthday!!! I hope you're having a great day, hun!

The members of Greta Van Fleet were in Washington DC for a few days before their Starcatcher concert at the Capital One Arena. Since they had some time to kill, they were given the green light to explore around the area, take in the sights, and, most importantly, stay out of trouble. That last point was drilled into their heads by their manager but, with wide smiles, they assured him that they were going to spend time checking out the Smithsonian, seeing all the monuments, and, of course, finding a good brewery to relax at. And they stuck to their promise. Well, at least for the first two hours of their day off. 

Sam was adamant that they go to the Air and Space museum since Jake got to do his not-so-innocent photoshoot with the Washington Monument. Josh promised Sam they would go soon, but first he wanted to check out their AirBnB. 

“Josh,” Danny stared at his bandmate. “Why the hell did you book an AirBnB? We’re already staying at a hotel.” 

“It was a dream of mine to attend Georgetown,” Josh eagerly explained. 

“It literally wasn’t,” Jake retorted. Josh shushed him. 

“I wanted to get a place for us to enjoy, living the life I never got to have. It’s a nice and quaint spot on the edge of campus, surrounded by students and professors. It’s gonna be great, trust me.” 

“It’s a waste of money, is what it is,” Danny huffed, but that was the extent of the fuss he would make over what Josh chose to do with his income. 

“I’m setting a timer on my phone,” Sam announced. “If this takes us more than an hour, you owe me something from the Air and Space museum gift shop.” 

“Fine,” Josh shrugged. He knew Sam would want one of the NASA space shuttle models, which was like $30 tops. Hell, he’d get Sam some space food too if the kid really wanted it. 

They weren’t too far away from the place, so they quickly made their way out of the touristy area to the Georgetown campus, which was overrun with people around their age, hustling to class with their oversized backpacks and tall travel mugs of coffee. 

Josh stopped them in front of a two story brick house with white trim that extended impressively high. Jake took in the sight and let out a whistle. 

“The big bad wolf isn’t bringing this house down, that’s for sure.” 

“It’s a brick…house,” Danny jokingly sang. 

Josh rolled his eyes and led the way up to the front porch. 

“I read on the website that this house has been haunted in the past. I figured we could hang around ghosts again to get some good songwriting sessions in.” 

“That’s why you got this place?” Jake frowned. He was kind of fed up with ghosts after they had messed with his equipment at their previous cabin outing. 

“We literally just released a new album, Josh,” Sam pitched his voice up into an annoying whine that only younger siblings can perfect. “Can’t we just enjoy some time off doing normal tourist stuff like, I don’t know, going to the Air and Space museum?” 

“I’m a little bit worried about spending so much time in these haunted places,” Danny chipped in his two cents. “I feel like one of these days it’s not gonna end well for us.” 

“And see?” Josh had his arms crossed. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys why I rented this place. I knew you were all gonna be party poopers over it.” Jake opened his mouth to protest, but Josh continued to talk. “I’m doing this for us to grow as a band, to really expand our horizons. Sure, we already have a double album nearly done, but what are we gonna do after that? You said it yourself, Jake, we need to be at the top.” 

“You’re taking that quote out of context,” Jake frowned. “I told you that at the movie theater. I wanted to be in the back row to see Barbie.” 

“Just accept that I’m right,” Josh looked at his band members. He turned to face the front door and his face brightened in excitement. “See?” he whirled back around to face them, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “The door is wide open. The ghosts are welcoming us in. I feel really good about this.” 

“Why in the everloving hell would you feel good about that?” Sam sputtered out. “Oh, he’s already inside,” Sam grumbled, watching as Josh jumped inside the house. “How are we related to that guy?” Sam turned back to ask. 

“Don’t look at me,” Danny held up his hands. 

“We have to go in after him, don’t we?” Jake checked in, standing on his toes to try and peek inside the house. For what it was worth, it did look relatively normal inside. Sam checked the timer on his phone and tsked. 

“Only seven minutes away from me getting my Air and Space on.” 

“I’m literally gonna whoop your ass the next time you bring up the Air and Space museum,” Jake grumbled under his breath. Danny put his hands on the backs of Sam and Jake and gave them a guiding push in through the open door. 

“Let’s grab Josh and get the hell out of here,” he instructed. 

They quickly found Josh standing at the foot of the staircase in the main landing. His hands were on his hips and he beamed at the space around him while Danny, Sam, and Jake scrunched their noses. The place looked tacky as hell, like it hadn’t been updated since the 1970s. Everything had a mustard-colored theme to it. 

“Isn’t this place great?” Josh greeted them, wiggling his eyebrows to encourage them to shower him in praise. Sam opened his mouth to tell Josh that he was six minutes away from owing him something from the gift shop when a low, guttural moan sounded from upstairs. “The ghosts are here!” Josh clapped in glee. Jake, Sam, and Danny were all pale. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Jake said, tugging on Josh’s arm, trying with all his might to communicate to his twin telepathically that he had nearly pissed himself. 

“Please, Josh,” Danny tried, “I don’t think the ghosts here are nice.” 

“YOUR MOTHER SUCKS COCK IN HELL,” a muffled demonic voice hollered above them. The four men looked around at each other, their faces white. A few beats of silence hung in the air and then they broke down into fits of laughter. 

“Maybe I do want to stick around,” Sam gasped for air, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“I could take some notes from this guy on profanity,” Jake agreed, nodding emphatically. Even Danny seemed to be growing more fond of the idea of sticking around. 

“The timing of that was perfect,” he marveled. 

Josh was radiating with delight. He knew his bandmates would warm up to his exceptional idea. He could feel a really productive writing session coming on - it was practically inevitable. 

“What do you say we go upstairs and meet this goofy ghost then, huh?” he asked around. Everyone was on board, so they booked it up the grand stairwell. Sam pushed ahead of Josh to be the first to the top, and skidded to a halt so his band members ran into his back. 

“If I had to guess,” Sam started, grasping onto the wall to keep upright, “I would say the ghost is in there.” 

He pointed at the door in front of them, which was rattling and knocking around with smoke pouring from the bottom. They all stared at the supernatural sight and then shrugged. The ghost at the cabin where they wrote Anthem of the Peaceful Army enjoyed chucking Jake’s guitars around - they had seen a lot worse. 

“I read a book about interacting with ghosts recently,” Josh shared with his band. “It’s vital to state your name and intent. Open communication is the key to building an amicable relationship with a spirit.” 

He put his hand on the doorknob and started to turn it. 

“Oh wow,” he stopped for a moment to comment. “This is cold as hell.” 

Without giving it even a second of thought, Jake leaned forward and licked the doorknob. 

“Now why the fuck did you do that?” Danny scolded him. 

“A fu,” Jake called out. “Mah tun ih uck.” 

It was awkward as anything, but Josh managed to turn the doorknob while Jake’s tongue was still attached to it. Jake led the way into the room, waddling in on his knees, and they were greeted by two priests and a ghastly looking young girl. Her face looked like she had shoved it in a blender. 

“Oh,” Josh broke the stunned silence. “I didn’t realize this was a hostel. I thought this was a private booking.” 

“Hi, I’m Sam,” Sam lifted a casual hand, remembering Josh’s advice. “I am here to say hi to a goofy ghost.” 

“I am Pazuzu, king of the demons of the wind and son of the mighty and powerful god, Hanbi. I will fuck your shit up,” the young girl boomed in a startlingly deep voice.  

“I on’t ike is, guys,” Jake sputtered out from his spot glued to the door. The demon studied Jake and let a sly grin curl across the girl’s lips. 

“Well look at this fucking idiot,” the demon howled with laughter. 

“I m’naw uhn idiot,” Jake attempted to protest. 

“You need to get out of here,” the younger priest looked at the men in worry. “It isn’t safe for you.” 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Sam stated. “Your demon is levitating.” 

They spun around to find the girl lifting from her covers and shakily ascending towards the ceiling. While this was happening, Danny sprung to action and grabbed Jake’s torso, desperately pulling at him to detach his tongue from the door knob. Jake hollered out in pain. 

“I ‘an ‘eel eye aste uds eeling off!” 

“Jake, shut up,” Danny grunted out. He looked up for a second and cursed to himself when he saw the demon staring at them in interest. Whatever was going to happen next, he knew it was going to be bad. Danny was totally right. The demon came limply hurtling across the room and knocked into him and Jake, causing the three to tumble out the room and down the staircase. 

“I’M FREEEEEEEE!” Jake called as he tossed and tumbled down the carpeted staircase, even doing a flip midair about halfway down. Danny landed first with a soft “ow,” and Jake and the demon conveniently landed on top of him. “Thanks for breaking my fall, bud,” Jake patted him on the head. 

“Please get off of me,” Danny wheezed. Jake hurried to his feet and then clutched at his head. 

“Agh,” he groaned out. 

“Are you guys okay?” Sam called from the top of the staircase. He wanted to make sure it was an emergency first if he had to exert himself and go down the stairs. 

“My head hurts like a bitch,” Jake complained. 

“You must have gotten a concussion,” Danny tried to be the voice of reason. As he was falling down the stairs, he had caught Jake’s head knocking around like a crash test dummy a few times. It would be a miracle if the guy remembered his own name. Danny gazed to his left and then jumped with a scream when he realized that the demon was standing with them, as if they were just hanging out. 

“That was fun, let’s do it again,” the demon conversed in its deep voice. 

“We need to get her back upstairs to her bed!” one of the priests called down to them. Like Sam, he was in no rush to make the trek down to the first floor before he had to. 

“What are we supposed to do about that?” Danny yelled back up. He was getting really fed up with the situation Josh had put them in. Where had that fucker gone anyways? 

A loud crash came from the girl’s bedroom, and Sam and the priests ran back to address it. The demon started to sprint upstairs as well, and Danny instinctually ran after it, leaving Jake standing on his own in a daze. 

When Danny made it back to the bedroom, he gaped at the scene in front of him. Like the demon had done minutes earlier, Josh was now levitating in the middle of the room, his eyes gently shut and his arms spread out in the Jesus position. 

“Oh gosh!” the older priest exclaimed. “Pazuzu got him too!” 

Josh opened one of his eyes and peeked down at his audience, who were all gawking at him. He flashed his pearly whites and gave a small wave with a chuckle, causing the older priest to faint. 

“Turns out if I meditate hard enough, I can levitate too!” Josh caught everyone up to speed. “I think I might have reached nirvana.” 

“What the fuck?” Danny and Pazuzu both murmured. Then, they turned to each other. 

“He’s not a demon?” Pazuzu checked with Danny. 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Danny responded. “Though it wouldn’t surprise me,” he added as an afterthought. “You’re not doing this?” 

“What would I get out of doing this?” Pazuzu arched an eyebrow. 

“Yah!” The younger priest called out as he snuck up behind Pazuzu and threw some holy water.  The demon arched its back and let out a rumbling howl, causing Josh to snap out of his nirvana and drop back down to the bed with a hard thump. Danny and Sam groaned in disgust as the demon unleashed a cannon of vomit onto the priest, staining his entire front green. The priest looked down, choked on a sob of horror, and tore for the window, where he proceeded to fall down an impressive flight of stairs. Josh sat up from his spot on the bed and grimaced. 

“Do you think he’s okay?” 

Sam gave Josh a blank stare. 

“What do you think, genius?” 

“Yes?” Josh sounded hopeful. 

Suddenly, Jake stomped into the room. 

“WHICH ONE O’ YE FUCKERS PUSHED ME OLD ASS DOWN THEM STAIRS?” he bellowed. Everyone did a double take. 

“Is that Oliver Reed?” Sam whispered to Danny in confusion. Danny pursed his lips and nodded his head. Oliver Reed always knew to come out at the worst time possible. 

“I don’t believe it,” Pazuzu breathed out. “The spirit of Oliver Reed possessed that fleshly form? This house ain’t big enough for two demons.” 

“Kiss me ass, yew fuckface!” Oliver Reed snarled at the demon. 

For some reason, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly theme started to play, and Oliver Reed and Pazuzu got into dueling position, curling their hands and staring each other down. Danny, Sam, and Josh stood in a line off to the side, watching in horror. Oliver Reed was a terror to behold, but it was iffy if he could really stand a chance against a demon as powerful as Pazuzu. 

“Fuck yourself with a knife, you pathetic virgin,” Pazuzu got the first blow in. 

“Virgin? VIRGIN? HA! I fucked yer mom and yer dad last night,” Oliver Reed cackled. “I put my cigar out on yer dad’s forehead and he loved it.” 

That seemed to slow Pazuzu down, but after they collected themself, they took a step closer to Oliver Reed. 

“You prideful bastard, you son of a whore, your cock is the size of a maggot.” 

“My lovers tell me they eat fresh because, like Subway, me cock’s a footlong,” Oliver Reed retorted. That one earned a snort from Danny, but Pazuzu and Oliver Reed were too in the zone to notice. 

“I’ll shove my foot up your ass to hear you squeal like a pig,” Pazuzu countered. 

“That’s what I told yer mom last night,” Oliver Reed lowered his sunglasses to give Pazuzu an icy stare. 

“I think Oliver Reed is winning,” Josh whispered to Danny and Sam. They both absently nodded. 

“My mother is dead,” Pazuzu sounded more defensive than heated. 

“I don’t discriminate,” Oliver Reed shrugged. 

“Jesus Christ,” Pazuzu breathed out in horror, and then clutched their chest in pain from uttering the holy name. Oliver Reed barked out in laughter and grabbed a bottle of beer from out of nowhere. Pazuzu watched as Oliver Reed removed the bottle cap with his teeth and then spit it out the window. Off in the distance, the younger priest called out in pain from the bottom of the staircase, where a bottle cap had mysteriously appeared and hit him square in the forehead. 

“Yew want to keep going? I could do this all day,” Oliver Reed asked Pazuzu. While Pazuzu considered the offer, Oliver Reed proceeded to down his entire 40oz beer. 

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Sam, Danny, and Josh chanted in the background, out of habit. 

“The pen is mightier than the sword, I’ll give you that,” Pazuzu replied. 

“I thought it was ‘the penis mightier than the sword,’” Oliver Reed sounded confused. “Doesn’t ‘at make more sense?” 

“What I’m trying to say is we had our fun talking,” Pazuzu ignored Oliver Reed. “But I need to get back to business.” 

Oliver Reed hollered in shock when an invisible force sent him flying across the room, hitting the wall and dropping to the floor. Pazuzu curled their blue and scabby hands into tight fists and hovered over to Oliver Reed, who was gathering himself 

“Yew asshat,” Oliver Reed fumed at the demon. “Yew made me drop me beer.” 

“The bottle was empty,” Pazuzu sounded confused. 

“It’s the principle, mate! The principle!” Oliver Reed protested. With a rage-filled cry, Oliver Reed lurched forward and tackled Pazuzu to the ground, pinning them to the floor with a tremendous amount of strength. From the floor, Pazuzu’s head started to turn in a complete 360, which made Oliver Reed scream out, “BLEGH! OWL DEMON! I HATE BIRDS!” and gave Pazuzu the opportunity to break free from his grasp. Oliver Reed attempted to regain control of the situation and pin Pazuzu back down, but they were already back to their feet, sending the bed frame at Oliver Reed with their mind. Oliver Reed drunkenly stumbled out of the way, just barely missing being squashed by the wooden structure, and hurled his empty bottle at Pazuzu, hitting them square in the forehead. In retaliation, Pazuzu sent a dresser in Oliver Reed’s direction, forcing him up against the wall. 

Across the room, chimes started to ring from Sam’s phone. 

“Would you look at that?” Sam said over the commotion. “The hour is up. Josh, you owe me something from the gift shop. Can we go now?”

“Sam, I think Jake is in the middle of something right now,” Danny spoke up. “Oh,”  Danny said in surprise. “He’s already gone.” 

Sam made his way down the stairs and let himself out the opened front door, walking with a pep in his step in the direction of the Air and Space museum. He was going to learn about the Wright Brothers and NASA and go inside a real cockpit. And then Josh was going to buy him a model space shuttle from the gift shop. It was going to be absolutely awesome. 

Back in the bedroom, Oliver Reed was threatening Pazuzu with a sword that he had managed to find somewhere. Danny and Josh cowered in fear, hiding behind a rocking chair as Oliver Reed swung the sword around his head like a helicopter blade, tearing and slashing through the air while hollering at Pazuzu that he was going to “shove this pointy thing where the sun don’t shine.” 

“We have to do something before Jake accidentally shanks himself,” Danny whispered to Josh. Josh nodded. Jake’s wrists were too flimsy to be handling that sword in the way he was. 

“We need to do an exorcism,” he told Danny under his breath. “On both of them.” 

“I don’t know how to do an exorcism, Josh,” Danny replied in a panic. 

“You just throw water at them and yell stuff in latin,” Josh said, like it was nothing. He grabbed a bottle of holy water left discarded on the floor in front of them and tucked it into Danny’s trembling hands. “Go and get ‘em, tiger.” 

“I don’t want to,” Danny’s voice cracked, but Josh pushed him out in front of Oliver Reed and Pazuzu. Oliver Reed stopped swinging his sword around and Pazuzu, likewise, turned to face Danny. Danny looked white as a sheet and he made a few choking noises, but then snapped into action. “CARPE DIEM!” Danny’s voice rose. Pazuzu and Oliver Reed exchanged a confused glance. “E PLURIBUS UNUM!” Danny continued as he forced the lid off the bottle of holy water and tossed it in the demons’ direction, missing them both entirely. 

“What the fuck is happening?” Pazuzu asked the room. 

“Hell if I should know,” Oliver Reed shrugged. 

“ET CETERA!” Danny tried again. 

From behind the rocking chair, Josh’s face lit up. 

“Oh wait,” he said to himself. “I do know how to do an exorcism. I made a movie about it in high school.” 

With a newfound confidence, Josh sprung to his feet, hurried to Danny’s side, and grabbed the bottle of holy water from him. 

“I’ll take it from here,” Josh assured Danny. 

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Danny hissed back. 

Josh squared up to face the demons and cleared his throat. “My name is Josh Kiszka and I am here to send your asses back downstairs.” 

“Like your UPS delivery lookin 'ass could do that,” Pazuzu chirped. 

“Oh, you got roasted,” Jake broke free from Oliver Reed’s control for a second to cackle. 

Josh got into an exorcist stance and began to chant lines of latin that obviously had an effect on Pazuzu and Oliver Reed. 

“What the fuck?” Danny called out in shock. Josh being fluent in latin was definitely not on his bingo card. Then, he got angry. “Why the hell did you make me go out there first?” 

“Yew wanker!” Oliver Reed howled in pain as Josh continued the exorcism. “Aye don’t want to go back down there, Margaret Thatcher is mean to me!” 

Across town, Sam was at the Air and Space museum, but he was bummed out. It wasn’t the same without his bandmates. In fact, it was boring walking around and looking at the displays without Jake and Josh fighting in the background while Danny tried to break them up. Sam let out a sigh of defeat and headed for the front entrance. 

“I guess I’ll go back to the haunted house.” 

Back at the house, Pazuzu and Oliver Reed were both curled up on the floor, moaning and writhing as Josh recited his lines with a firm and powerful voice, the latin echoing around the room. Danny was standing beside Josh now, feeling safe enough to come out from his hiding spot, and watched as the two demons pleaded for Josh to stop.  

“I think it’s going well,” Josh took a break to tell Danny. At that moment, Sam plodded back into the room, his shoes mysteriously gone, and opened his arms up to everyone. 

“Did you miss me?” He greeted his friends and the demons. 

In Josh’s moment of distraction, Pazuzu ejected themself from the girl’s body and zipped across the room, slamming straight into Sam’s body. Oliver Reed sprung to action as well and hopped from Jake over to Danny. 

“Wait, what?” Josh asked in confusion as Sam and Danny shook their heads and then turned to face him with demonic grins. From the floor, Jake let out an exasperated grunt. 

“Did Oliver Reed get me again?” he groaned. 

“Aye like this body a lot better!” Danny exclaimed in a British accent as he checked out his biceps and gave them a firm squeeze. “This mate lifts!” 

“I’ve got gains too,” Jake sounded hurt from the floor. 

“Eh,” the girl begged to differ beside him. Jake took one look at her and jumped with a scream. 

“This is one hairy motherfucker,” Pazuzu commented as he played with Sam’s long locks. 

“Shit,” Josh cursed himself. Things weren’t going as well as he thought they would. Leave it to Sam to come back and screw everything up. 

“Wanna give that exorcism another try, big boy?” Pazuzu asked. It was strange to hear those words coming from Sam’s mouth but, to be fair, Pazuzu had distorted Sam’s voice beyond recognition. When he talked, it sounded like he was gargling mouthwash. 

“Wait, you’re doing an exorcism?” Jake asked as he slowly returned back to his feet. Josh gave him a quick nod. “I can help out,” Jake offered. “I still remember how to do one from that film you made in high school, I think.” 

“Give it yer all, yew short boys,” Oliver Reed cackled. Jake scrunched up his nose at the words that had just come from Danny. 

“That’s really weird,” he commented. “I don’t think I like that.” 

“Guys,” Danny’s normal voice broke through, “please get Oliver out of me. He smells bad and I feel like my blood alcohol content is flying off the charts.” 

“It is a bad feeling,” Jake confirmed, then turned to Josh. “Let’s do this.” 

“You cowardly, ass eating, Led Zeppelin wannabes!” Pazuzu shouted. 

“Sorry,” Sam cut in. “That was out of line.” 

“Just ignore them, Jake,” Josh advised his twin. “They’re gonna try to get into your head.” 

Pazuzu and Oliver Reed were definitely doing everything they could to distract Jake and Josh, since they had their arms wrapped around each other and were rocking drunkenly back and forth, belting out a sea shanty at the top of their lungs. 

“What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning!” 

“Fuck,” Jake said through grit teeth, his hands balled up into tight fists. “I love that sea shanty.” 

“Selective hearing, Jake,” Josh reminded him. “Pull it together.” 

Jake sucked in a deep inhale and then, together, he and Josh began reciting their latin, circling around the demons and taking turns dousing them in holy water. In return, Pazuzu and Oliver Reed tried to sing louder. With all the commotion they were making, it was a miracle that the neighbors hadn’t filed a noise complaint. Feeling left out, the girl made herself useful by taking turns kicking Sam and Danny in the shins to handicap the demons. 

“Can you please stop that?” Danny begged the girl in his normal voice, taking a break from Oliver Reed’s barking yells. The girl looked him in the eyes, smiled, and sent her foot flying into his shin again, sending Danny toppling to the floor. That seemed to be the nail in the coffin for Oliver Reed, because Danny let out one last agonizing yell and then a rush of blue, white, and red shot out from his body and dove through the house, back down to hell. 

Pazuzu watched Oliver Reed’s dramatic exit and beamed. 

“I knew I was the better demon,” they proudly declared. Then, they turned to Jake and Josh. “Okay, I’m done with my games. I don’t really like this host anyways. He keeps telling me that my music taste is trash, and it’s making me feel bad.” 

Josh and Jake stared in awe as Pazuzu extracted themself from Sam’s body, flashed one last terrifying grin at them, and then dove down after Oliver Reed. The temperature in the room immediately returned back to normal, and the eerie blue lighting was replaced with the warm sunshine coming from the broken window. Without a second’s hesitation, Jake and Josh rushed to Sam and Danny’s sides to make sure they were alright. 

“I think I need to go on a juice cleanse,” Danny shuddered. “That was disgusting.” 

“Pazuzu thinks Shawn Mendes is talented, can you believe that shit?” Sam sputtered out, evidently not feeling any of the after-effects of being possessed. “Like, if that demon is gonna be in my body, I have a right to set them straight.” 

“I’m sorry,” Josh grimaced at Danny. “You were totally right. I was playing with fire when I rented out this AirBnB.” 

“AirBnB?” the girl asked behind them. They turned to face her and winced at her chalky, bruised, and cut skin. 

“Yeah?” Josh cautiously asked back. 

“I live here,” the girl stated. “With my mom. This isn’t an AirBnB.” 

“But isn’t this 3602 Prospect St?” Josh asked. The girl frowned at him. 

“It’s 3600 Prospect St,” she answered. 

“Jesus Christ, Josh,” Danny groaned. 

“Huh,” Josh muttered. “Well. That’s embarrassing.” 

“I mean, you guys did help me out, so I guess I have to thank you for breaking in.” 

“Yeah, anytime,” Jake flashed her a smile, and then reconsidered his words. “Uh, I mean, we won’t break in anytime. That’s not what I meant.” 

“You’re all good,” the girl assured him. “I hate to kick you out, but I need to get to work on my skincare routine stat.” 

“That’s a good call,” Sam agreed. Danny elbowed him hard in the ribs, which made him keel over for a second. “I mean, what? Girl, your skin is flawless,” Sam tried to rebound. 

“Get out,” the girl stared at them. 

“Fair enough,” Josh nodded. “Good luck to you!” 

They hurried out of the brick house and, on the porch, Josh double checked the address with his confirmation email. 

“Wow,” he said to himself. “I don’t know how I mixed that up.” 

“It was a tiny hiccup,” Danny said. “You know, we only got possessed over all of this.” 

“I’m sensing that you’re feeling upset,” Josh tried to do damage control. “But let’s practice some gratitude. I, for one, am grateful that the old priest passed out pretty early on because that guy smelled like moth balls and it was starting to give me a migraine.” 

Josh looked around at his friends, expecting them to take part in the gratitude circle, but all of them stared darkly back at him. Josh panicked, trying to think of a way to get them to forgive him fast. 

“Should we go to the Air and Space museum?” he tried. 

Danny and Jake looked at each other and shrugged. 

“YES!” Sam exclaimed, like he had been eagerly waiting for Josh to suggest that his whole life. He took off sprinting down the sidewalk, his bare feet slapping against the hot pavement. “SPACE SHUTTLE, HERE I COME!” Sam whooped in the distance. 

“Let’s stick to rural ghosts instead of city demons, okay?” Jake said to Josh as they watched Danny chase after Sam with a pair of shoes, shouting that he was burning his feet. 

“Agreed,” Josh nodded. “They’re a bit more our speed, I think.” Josh thought hard. “You really need to find a way to ward off Oliver Reed.” 

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” Jake declared. “Non-alcoholic beer. That should do the trick.” 

“I think that should,” Josh let out a laugh, giving Jake a loving pat on the back as they walked down the Washington D.C. sidewalk into the glowing sun. 

#greta van fleet #gvf #the exorcist #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #jake kiszka #oliver reed #pazuzu #demonic possession #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fanfic #gvf fic #gvf crack fic

[artekai]

I've noticed you making more post about your OC, I really wanna hear more about him if you have anything... please ramble about him as much as you want §(*￣▽￣*)§

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING AAAAAAAAAAA

OKAY SO i've been bluescreening all afternoon because I don't know where to start??? This is a P5R x Horizon AU, so do I start with the P5R stuff? Do I start with the Horizon stuff? Do I start with who Artekai actually is as a person?? I was gonna go over the story in chronological order, but when I was midway through my essay I realized it was gonna require me to explain a lot of Horizon stuff I don't really wanna get into, and it was gonna be like 80% Horizon, 10% P5R, and 10% actual Artekai ;-; So I'm gonna try to focus on my boy this time :')

(Just as a heads up, I will be going into major Horizon Zero Dawn spoilers, but I will try to explain so that it makes sense even if you’ve never played it. Also, I'm still brushing up on my knowledge of Horizon lore, so please forgive me if I get the timeline or any other canon details wrong ;-;)

SO. About Artekai. He's a 20 years old (give or take) machine hunter from the Cut (which is what we currently call Yellowstone, except it's frozen over in the future). He's a manwhore, a himbo, an attention whore. He doesn't have the same terms to describe his identity as we do, but, if he did, he'd be a gay trans guy. He's a devout believer of the Banuk tribe's faith and dreams of being a shaman someday, but, deep down, what he truly wants is to be needed. Poor guy feels very disconnected from the world and the people around him ;-;

Artekai, much like his predecessor, is extremely forgiving. Even though the werak that raised him was wiped out during the war with the Carja, he doesn't hold a grudge against any of the other tribes. That is, of course, as long as they don't say anything against Kai's people now, because he can get very defensive very quickly, but, otherwise, he always tends to assumes the best of everyone. He also advocates for diplomacy, migration, and trading between tribes, because he believes that contact with other cultures can only enrich all of their tribes and make them stronger.

Speaking of cultures, you could say that Kai takes a lot of interest in anthropology, haha. He's excited about traveling around and learning all about other tribes, their traditions and their beliefs, showing a child-like wonder when he gets to share his own culture with any outlanders who are willing to keep an open mind.

As protective as he is of his people, however, Kai does find some aspects of Banuk culture stifling, like the emphasis on self reliance or how everything, even survival, is made into a competition. He hopes to be able to get through to the other Banuk and push for a change, but he feels like he needs more authority to be able to actually achieve anything (which ties back to his desire to be a shaman - but it's fine, he'll settle for chieftain if he gets the chance).

On the topic of authority and social change, Artekai isn't very well liked amongst the Banuk, not even within his own werak. They tolerate him because he's a very skilled hunter and explorer, but he's the werak weirdo, who's overly clingy and flirts with the chieftain, who challenges tradition yet somehow believes in the Blue Light more obsessively than anyone else, who thinks he's the second coming of Banukai (an important historical figure in Banuk faith) or something equally insane. And yeah, Artekai's feet aren't exactly grounded on reality. He's a lot more quiet about it now, since he has been shamed for it throughout the years, but the werak he was raised in used to believe he had been born from the Blue Light to heal the world and restore peace to the machines, so he believed it too.

In that sense, I guess he's a bit of an anti-Aloy. And I know that sounds like more of a Carja thing to do, but it's all Azathoth's fault. Let me explain.

Back in the day, about half a century ago, there was this guy called Takuto Maruki (idk, you've probably never heard of him lol) who was part of Project Zero Dawn, because he was the world's leading expert on cognitive psience at the time. What was Project Zero Dawn, you may ask? Well, you see, at the time, a swarm of self replicating machines had gone rogue, so there was nothing humanity could do to save the world they knew. However, Zero Dawn was a project led by Elisabet Sobeck, created with the goal to stop the machines and restore life to Earth even after total extinction.

Azathoth, however, survived. How did he live through humanity's extinction, which would've presumably caused the cognitive world to crumble and be rebuilt later on in completely different ways? I'm not sure. I'm still figuring things out ;-; He's probably an actual deity and not just a cognitive being here. This AU is already very far removed from P5R canon, so that might as well happen, I guess.

Anyhow, Azathoth had to watch Takuto die. He lost his master, his role model, his only friend, his partner in crime... and, as if that wasn't enough, he had to watch the rest of humanity die as well. He watched as plants and animals disappeared, as the world was taken over by machines, and he couldn't do anything about it...

Azzie had a lot of time to sleep while he waited for the world to be repopulated. He might've even unlocked a new whole range of emotions while he processed what was happening around him. But, even when the wait was over and humans came back, he still felt... horribly empty. He needed his master, his chosen human, his friend. Even if humans came back, there'd never be another one as perfect as Takuto, who'd be able to give Azathoth a sense of purpose like he had, who'd help him feel complete again...

(unless...)

Azzie impulsively ordered a Takuto clone to be made. How???? No idea. Did he even have access to GAIA or ELEUTHIA??? I dunno. But Azzie is a deity, nothing was gonna stop him. He was gonna learn how to actualize an AI if necessary, dammit.

As you can see, I'm trying to connect the two things that don't make sense in this AU (The existence of a Takuto clone + Azathoth's survival) to try to fit everything in... but, on the other hand, this was self indulgent from the start, so maybe I can allow myself a few plot holes?

In any case, that's how Artekai was born! It was only then that Azathoth realized what he had done. He really had just made a whole ass baby just because he was sad and lonely... He could practically hear Takuto panicking and banging his head against a wall in the afterlife. Azathoth didn't know the first thing about taking care of a human child, so, for the baby's sake, he scouted the area and chose to hand him over to the Banuk. Why the Banuk, specifically? He probably thought their way of life suited Takuto or something. After all, wasn't Takuto self-reliant and resilient to a fault? Surely his clone would fare well in a society that valued those two traits above all else, right?

But Azathoth either didn't account or didn't care for the way the Banuk would react to his presence (he is the blind idiot god, so I'm leaning towards "didn't account"). This was around the time of the Derangement, which meant the machines that had once been peaceful were turning aggressive towards people without explanation. So, imagine you're a Banuk shaman and, during that period of change and uncertainty, a machine unlike any other (taller than any human, body bathed in gold and hovering over the ground, cables in place of limbs, bright blue light flowing through its tendrils and shining in his eyes) shows up at your werak and places a baby in your arms. For all you know, this baby has no human parents. This machine also seems a lot friendlier than all other machines, even before the Derangement. Are you supposed to not interpret that as some kind of divine sign?

So yeah. If Artekai's name sounds similar to Banukai, that was a deliberate choice. He was loved and uplifted by his original werak, which he misses dearly, but he was also pushed even harder than usual because they believed that the duty of saving the world rested on his shoulders. So that's why he's always so thirsty for validation.

Of course, someday, Artekai is gonna meet Azathoth and find out that he never was some sort of savior, because he's just the clone of some random dude from the old world (whereas his traveling partner Aloy really is the clone of the Scientist that Saved the World) and that he was made just because Azzie got lonely :/ That's not gonna be fun for anyone involved, haha. But hey, Kai still sticks with Aloy and helps save the world for real, so maybe his wish still came true somewhat! ^^

(I must say, though, I find it amusing that Azathoth single-handedly gave both Takuto and his son god complexes to match. King shit)

#ask tag #woolmasterleel #horizon au #p5r horizon au #deni's stuff #oc tag #oc: artekai #horizon oc #THANK YOU #omg i rambled so much #BUT AAAAAAAAAAAAAA #i just hope that gave you a good well rounded idea of who artekai is :3 #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #AAAAAAAA THERE'S JUST SO MUCH. SO MUCH #HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY #SORRY I TOOK THIS LONG TO ANSWER I WAS VIBRATING #i really hope i managed to explain the horizon stuff well too ;-; #THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE AAAAAAAAA THANK YOUUUUU #please..... if there's anything more you wanna know about kai or this AU in general please feel free to ask ^^ #i've been obsessed with it since i finished playing hzd #you know how much i love to see takuto suffer so putting him in zero dawn is delicious! #and kai.... my precious artekai.... i love him <3 #i hope to finish drawing him soon so you can see him :3 #THANK YOU <3

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (January 20/2021) - SEASON TWO FINALE

The Disc Saga has finally come to an end. With both L’manburg and the discs’ stories completed at last, it’s time for a new beginning and a new era, as Dream is locked away in Pandora’s Vault and the server looks forward to a more hopeful future.

Now that Dream is gone, though, there’s a power vacuum that needs to be filled...

And with Season Three on the horizon, a certain  empire has plans to do exactly that.

---

- Ponk makes graves for Tommy and Tubbo in the Graveyard.

- Tommy and Tubbo come online at last. They follow the compass down the Prime Path and start to reminisce about all the old times. Everyone is waiting for them on the Prime Path. They go through one by one and say a goodbye to each of them.

Tommy: “I’ll see you all when we get home.”

- They enter the wilderness and start talking strategy.

Tommy: “I need someone to get back and tell my story.”

Tommy tells Tubbo that while they have the tendency to look on the positive, they have to be honest with themselves. It’s going to be a good fight, but they’re on their last lives. Tonight’s the night they have to win.

- Tommy opens up a bit to Tubbo about the things that still bother him from the exile.

- They find a MASSIVE mountain and go onto land. They start climbing, watching one last sunrise on the cliffside.

- Dream is on top of the mountain with an Enderchest there. Tommy and Tubbo confront him and start attacking before he has time to think. He starts building up a tower of obsidian and plays Mellohi to taunt them. 

A build battle breaks out, reminiscent of the original Disc War. The two manage to snatch the Mellohi disc.

- Dream laughs and says to stop. He hasn’t even begun to try. He almost kills Tubbo, bringing him down to only a few hearts, and gives Tommy an ultimatum: Tubbo or the discs. Dream gives Tommy a countdown from ten.

Tubbo: “Keep this disc. It’ll be worth it! Keep the disc, I’m fine! I’ve done enough in my life! It’s fine! Keep the disc!”

- Tommy gives Dream the disc. Dream laughs and reveals that the disc wasn’t even the real Mellohi, just a fake.

Dream: “I just want to show you how powerful I am, how powerless you are... I could’ve let you just walk away, but no, I’m toying with you. I’m playing with my food. That’s -- that’s the fun in it! That’s the fun in it.”

- He tells Tommy to drop the Axe of Peace for him. Then he tells the two to drop their stuff into a hole and explodes it all, then says he can take them to the real discs. 

- Dream leads them to a chamber with a platform in the middle. He activates it and a redstone elevator leads them down into a blackstone base that goes to bedrock.

Dream: “Listen, Tommy. Ever since you joined the server, you’ve been a headache, okay? You brought war, you brought terrorism, bad everything. But, but, the cause of all the war, of everything, was attachment, right? Your attachment to the discs, your attachment to Henry. To pets, to friends, to land, to countries, to items, right?”

“That’s the one good thing that you’ve done. The one good thing you’ve done is you’ve brought attachment to the server. So it took me a long time to realize how important attachment was, but when I did, you know, it made me stronger, and I realized, y’know, you’re important, right?”

- He shows them the discs. The real discs. 

Dream: “Ever since attachment was on the server...I cut my attachment. I -- I blew up my house, I lost my friends, I lost my items, lost my crossbow, my...y’know...everything that was important to me. My pets. I cut everything! Because I realized that’s what gave people power over each other. The reason you’re here is because I have these dumb little items.

I don’t wanna be controlled, so I cut...everything. I lost everything. But...I had to lose everything. I had to lose everything, to gain everything.

Listen, if I can control the things that people are attached to, then I can control the server again! Because this isn’t Tommy SMP or Tubbo SMP, it’s Dream SMP, right?! So I can control the server if I have everything that everybody cares about, that everybody’s ever cared about, I can control everything, right? I can turn the server back to what it used to be...right?

- Dream leads them into a hallway where there’s a spot for all the things that everyone on the server is attached to. Beckerson and Mars, Fran, Skeppy, Carl, Enderchest, the shulker box...everything.

There’s even a cow named Henry and a sheep named Friend. 

- Dream explains that he needs Tommy to remain because he’s the person who’s brought attachment to things. Tommy’s the key to unlock the full potential of the server and power over people. That’s why he can’t kill Tommy.

Instead, he tells them that he’s constructed a prison.

He says his plan is to lock Tommy up and kill Tubbo. If Tommy wants to be a hero...Every hero needs an origin story, and Tommy’s is Tubbo. Dream gives Tommy a chance to say one last goodbye before it’s Tubbo’s time to die.

Tommy is desperate to keep fighting and keep hope, to always look for another option. Tubbo, meanwhile, has accepted their defeat. He’s accepted his death. All good things must come to an end eventually.

Tommy: “What am I without you?”

Tubbo: “...Yourself.”

Tommy: “Tubbo...even though for this entire server, I’ve always regarded you as my sidekick...really, Tubbo...I was your sidekick. Please don’t go...please don’t go...”

- Just as Dream is about to kill Tubbo, though, Punz comes through the Nether portal at the back of the room.

Punz: “I’m sorry Dream...but you should’ve paid me more.”

Suddenly, everybody comes through the portal at once. Everyone that they had said goodbye too suddenly gathers around Dream in a crowd as Tommy and Tubbo snatch the discs and put them into their Ender Chests.

- Tommy goes up to Dream, knowing he’s too important to kill. Instead, he digs a hole into the floor and tells Dream to drop his items.

- Dream says that Tommy wouldn’t kill him. After all, they have so much fun, don’t they? Tommy tells him that he’s caused nothing but pain and kills him with the Axe of Peace, promising to kill him again and again until he’s dead for good.

- Dream tries to word his way out of it but Tommy kills him a second time with Nightmare.

- Tommy asks Dream for his last words. Dream tries to convince him that he doesn’t need to kill him, that they’re friends! He begs Tommy to stop. As one last move, he lets slip that he can bring people back to life.

That’s what Schlatt’s book was.

The secret to reviving the dead.

- Tommy boxes Dream in obsidian. They know they can’t just let Dream go, and now they can’t kill him either, but Sam suggests an alternative: 

They put Dream in Pandora’s Vault.

Tommy: “Tubbo? ...Let’s make Wilbur proud.

 “SUCK IT GREEN BOYYYYYYY”

- Sam takes Dream away. Tommy says that he’ll be the first to visit him, that he’ll visit Dream tomorrow.

- Tommy tells Dream to confess to what he did. Dream tells everyone that he blew up the Community House, but goes silent after Tommy brings up the exile. Tommy gives a speech to the others. Now that Dream is gone, the server can finally be what it’s meant to be. 

- Dream is taken away, and Tommy and Tubbo say their goodbyes as they return home.

- They make it to Tommy’s house and sit on the bench, finally listening to the two music discs that started this whole thing off in peace.

- A familiar voice speaks.

“Tommy, I’m very impressed..”

“Hello...have you missed me?”

- It’s Wilbur -- the real Wilbur -- speaking with them from beyond the mortal plane. He tells them that he’s proud. He doesn’t want to come back to life. Tommy and Tubbo break the news about possible resurrection. Wilbur realizes that “he’s gonna bring Schlatt back as well.”

Wilbur’s voice fades away before long.

- Tubbo returns to Snowchester after Tommy leaves and realizes that they can declare their independence without Dream now that he’s gone. He wants to speak with Quackity as they talk about the future. 

- Jack is pleased with the outcome. Sure, he was against Tommy, but as a reminder! The Manifesto stated that his goal was to help Tommy and Tubbo get rid of Dream first. Tommy can be dealt with later. If he kills Tommy, not only will he get his revenge on Tommy himself, but it will also hurt Dream. 

Dream said he’d gotten rid of all the things on the server that mattered to him, but he was lying.

He hadn’t gotten rid of Tommy.

And Jack Manifold wants to be the one to do that.

- Jack plans to visit Dream in the prison to taunt him and tell him about how he’s going to kill Tommy and there’s nothing Dream can do to stop him.

- Ranboo is happy that he was right. It had to be everyone against Dream for them to win. But...he’s confused about why Dream said he’d blown up the Community House. Didn’t he do that?

He says he has to talk to Dream and get the true answers.

- Ranboo questions whether he’s a bad guy if he’s done the same things as Dream. Is he a bad person? Does he deserve to go to the prison to?

- He wants to work on his house, but Mellohi suddenly starts playing from somewhere. Frantically, Ranboo starts looking for the jukebox it’s playing from. It gets louder at certain spots...

- He runs back to the Panic Room and the music gets louder.

He clicks the jukebox in the room and Mellohi pops out, the music coming to a halt. Is he a bad person if he does bad things without meaning to? Or while under peer pressure?

He let bad things happen to all the people he wanted to help. He’s betrayed everyone he’s ever spoken to.

The only person who he hasn’t betrayed...is Dream.

He wonders if the Dream voice lied to him about the Community House? The voice has no true connection to Dream, but is it truth what it says? Could it have been wrong? 

Ranboo: “I think...I think he covered for me.”

“There are seventy different stories, but only one of them is right.”

He wonders if he can alter the page where it admits t hat he did those things, but he can’t bring himself to do it for some reason.

Even if the walls are down, they’re still up. Dream still has influence even when he’s locked up.

- He heads back to his house to start working on it and goes into his Comfort Room. It seems like everything’s okay until Mellohi starts playing again. It gets louder just outside his house.

- He starts running again, back through the Nether. Back to the Panic Room. He’s tired of this and wants to get rid of it.

Nothing comes out of the jukebox.

He breaks the jukebox and the song still plays.

He starts shouting at the voice. Why isn’t it appearing? 

- Ranboo wonders what he’s doing wrong, why the song is still playing. He starts denying that he did any of the things he thought he did. He just wants closure so that he doesn’t have to see Dream in prison.

He deletes one of the smiles and the music stops playing. He then deletes the rest of the page.

Ranboo says that he’s still going to visit Dream, but now he’s not looking for closure. Instead, he’s going to tell Dream everything that Dream did to end up in there.

- He opens the chest in the corner. Inside there are two pieces of TNT and...

A new book.

On the black screen, the crown flickers without the smile. The smile flashes for only a few seconds, which spells out in Morse code: IT ISN’T OVER.

- Later, Sam comes on. Now that he’s finished with the prison, he plans to protect it as though it were his child. But he needs a new project.

- So what he plans to do is create a bank and a system of currency for the server.

- Captain Puffy reflects on Dream now being locked up. She says she has plans for business in Snowchester later. 

- Ant’s eyes have turned purple. Bad comes online and Puffy shares her misgivings. Bad and Ant come up with the idea to establish a better headquarters, and want to build a base right above the Egg, but find out that Sam has already claimed the land for his bank.

- They start building the meeting room.

- Sam comes over and gets into an argument with Bad. He still thinks the Egg is bad juju. They show him the meeting room.

Bad: “Dream was just the uniting force where everybody was against him. Now that he’s locked up, things are just gonna get worse, alright? But the Egg can be a uniting force to bring everybody together! And that’s why we all came together and decided to unite our factions and form the Eggpire! The Egg Empire!”

Sam: “The wh-- don’t say that again. Whatever you just said, no...that’s a no from me.”

- Sam still thinks they should destroy it, and is angry that they didn’t tell him about this. Bad argues that they already tried containing it and it didn’t work. He also says the Egg has feelings.

- They take Sam down to the Egg Room with Punz. He’s horrified.

- Bad restates the purpose of the Eggpire, and explains that now that Dream is gone, there’s a power vacuum that needs to be filled. And if it’s not filled by the Badlands, then it’s going to be filled by someone else and that isn’t good for them.

- Sam escapes the Egg Room and the rest of the Badlands are left to discuss their future. Bad is hopeful that Sam will come around to them, and he has plans to speak with Eret as well.

Bad and Ant mention to Puffy that they have a “back up plan,” but won’t tell her what it is.

- Puffy also plans to start a therapy office on the SMP! 

She will be the third one to do so, but hopefully she’ll have more success than the others.

--- What happens now?

- Tales From the SMP Futuristic Episode (Saturday)

- Nuclear weapons test (January 26th)

- Tommy’s visit to Pandora’s Vault (Tomorrow)

- Ranboo’s visit to Pandora’s Vault

The Crimson’s Vines continue to spread across the server. 

Though the Syndicate has been recruiting new members in its fight for anarchy, the Eggpire’s influence grows ever stronger, and who knows where Snowchester will fall in the conflict when these new forces begin to clash?

Only time will tell.

---

ONTO DREAM SMP: SEASON THREE

---

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

[lokiskitten]

Hey! I wanted to make a request to Loki consoling the reader after a bad day or because she was unsure of her body.

(I'm sorry if there is something wrong, I'm Brazilian and I'm using the translator! lol)

Loki Laufeyson | pretty little thing

( Thor 2011 ) Loki x fem!reader

author’s note : hey! I’m pretty sure I can work something out ;) I hope you’ll enjoy it!

plot : you encounter Loki into the great hall after a long day of work, and the boy tries his best to make you feel better about yourself and your body.

warnings : super duper cute baby loki !1!1!1

Fitting into Asgard’s society turned out to be harder than you thought, and that no matter how much efforts you decided to put on display alongside the help of your fellow Asgardian mates. This was a process every single teenager who had grown in Odin’s court had to go through, which was absolutely necessary if you wished to remain part of the king’s close surroundings. But through time, you couldn’t help but start to think that you maybe didn’t belong in this place. Luxury and good manners wasn’t something you were particularly looking forward to, as you had always believed that it was simply too boring for your eccentric self.

As the group was making its way back to the chambers, you jumped on the opportunity in order to discreetly gain the balconies where you knew you’d be able to find a nice moment of rest. The cold air collided with your skin, making your hair fly back at a rather soothing pace. Your elbows reached out for the balcony’s barrier, body leaning against the fence as your eyelids shut close in an attempt to seek for peace. The silence remained extremely enjoyable until a familiar voice smoothly resonated through your ear. Your eyelids opened again, head tilting to the side as your orbs landed onto the familiar silhouette which was Loki’s, one of odin’s sons.

“Seeking for an escape?” He questioned, his body slowly nearing you as if he was afraid that he would accidentally scare you off. His green eyes pierced right into yours, head tilting lightly as he waited for an answer. A smile appeared on your lips, head nodding as you allowed your body to twist towards him. “Yeah, I guess you could call it that.” You responded before focusing your eyesight onto the beautiful Asgardian horizon again. Just like you, Loki leant against the barrier as his green orbs scanned the landscapes. Though, the usually talkative young man couldn’t help but start conversing again.

“I can sense that something is bothering you.” He notified, head tilting towards your silhouette which he couldn’t cease to admire. A sigh escaped your lips, surprised that a man such as Loki would care about the way you felt. You knew about his reputation, though you had never seemed to figure out why people would make such a big deal out of who he was. To you, he seemed nice and soothing. “It’s nothing really. Just girly bothers.” You explained, which actually made him chuckle. Loki couldn’t help but think that it was ridiculous for you to get upset over such things if it was the case.

“What? It’s true.” You added face to how he wasn’t taking your secretive problems seriously. His brows raised innocently, head shaking from left to right in a denying manner. “I never said it wasn’t.” Loki responded calmly, gentle smile forming onto his lips. “Now, tell me more about it.” The raven haired man added, looking forward to know more about what was bothering you.

Hearing this question, your chest tightened. It had been a while since anyone worried about your mental health, and you obviously didn’t expect Loki to be the one who would do it first. Looking back towards the beautiful horizon on which the sun was setting, you finally managed to empty your chest from your worries. “It’s going to sound stupid, but.. I don’t feel like I’m fitting here. Everyone is so beautiful, so successful, and I can’t help but think that I’m never going to manage to be as a wonderful as them all.” You explained, stomach tightening as you apprehended Loki’s answer.

The young man felt shocked to hear that you both shared the same sorrow, which consisted in fear of failure and sadness face to the fact that you didn’t necessarily fit in. His head nodded, waiting for you to be done talking so that he could add his personal comment to the discussion. “Well.. I’ve seen you in action. I think you look wonderful. Better than most of those people out there.” He responded respectfully, green orbs scanning your face which he had always admired. A chuckle escaped your lips. “Oh come on, you don’t have to say that.” You replied, face turning towards his in order to make eye contact.

Again, Loki’s eyebrows frowned, the man not being able to understand why you doubted him so much. But after second thoughts, he suddenly remembered about the fact that he was classified as the god of mischief. “I’m only speaking the truth. For once.” Loki affirmed, insisting on creating a form of complicity between the two of you. Your smile faded away, soul strangely acknowledging his little move. “Unfortunately it’s going to take more than that.” You ended up responding, looking away and causing Loki’s heart to fill with sorrow and disappointment.

“Let me guess.. you also feel insecure about the way you look?” Loki stated confidently, though remained far from making fun of you for it. Your eyes widened, your entire being wondering how the demigod had managed to guess about your insecurities. “How would you-“ you began, soon being cut off by Loki’s chuckle. “It’s a classic. Teenage girls and their body, you know? Boys feel it too.” He explained wisely, leaning against the fence with the help of one of his elbows as the rest of his body counted onto this support.

Your eyes rolled to the sky, head shaking gently as you tried your best to keep your attitude face to his annoying confidence. Seeing how you had decided to remain silent, Loki jumped on this occasion to talk a little bit further. “I believe your body looks ravishing. I mean, it’s not like I ever got to see it, but if the occasion showed, I’d be more than grateful to give in..” he purred seductively, earning nothing but a stern look coming from you which clearly stood as a negative answer face to his hidden proposition. Awkwardly, the god of mischief nodded his head before turning back towards the horizon. “Alright, got it.” He spoke lowly whilst rubbing his palms together.

I tried! I’m honestly best at smut no cap LMAO. But it’s nice to write about different stuff once in a while. Don’t hesitate to leave a comment or a request! Love y’all💜

#Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson imagine #Loki Laufeyson fanfic #Loki Laufeyson fluff #Loki Laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson x reader #baby Loki Laufeyson #Loki #Asgard #thor odinson #Asgard imagine #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston imagine #Tom Hiddleston fanfic #Tom Hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x you

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: I’ve decided to make this five parts instead of four. I was originally going to combine this part and the next one, but I feel like it flows better with a bit of separation between them!

Part One

____

Part Two

The rest of our first afternoon together was spent lazing around. Grayson was tired, but continued to refuse his nap so we kept things low key to avoid any exhausted toddler meltdowns. By the time the evening rolled around, I was tired from the stress of the day myself and since I still had to unpack, I went up to my bedroom shortly after we'd tucked Grayson into bed.

I slept a lot better than I thought I would given everything that was on my mind and when I woke up, I could already hear the sounds of breakfast echoing up from the kitchen. Taking a few minutes to let myself wake up properly, I checked my phone and scrolled through social media before getting up, stretching and heading downstairs.

"Good morning," I smiled, finding Chris and Grayson sitting at the island eating some scrambled eggs while Scott leaned against the counter with a cereal bowl in his hands.

"G'morning, Mama!"

Grayson's greeting was said through a mouthful of food and Chris reminded him that wasn't polite before greeting me himself.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he insisted. "There's some eggs left in the pan or cereal, whatever you can find. Maybe Grayson will even share his apple slices with you if you ask nicely."

Grayson gasped at that suggestion and frantically shook his head.

"No, Daddy!" He protested. "I don't want to share!"

I laughed as he reached over his plate to move the little bowl of sliced fruit closer to his body where he could keep it guarded.

"Not even one slice?" I asked. "But I'm so hungry!"

"Over there!" Grayson giggled, pointing at the counter.

I turned around and saw a few more apples in a bowl, making me smile as I turned back to the boys.

"But they're not nicely sliced like yours," I pointed out. "How can I eat those?"

Grayson shrugged and plucked one of his apples out of his bowl. He looked smug, thinking he'd won, but he was so distracted while he took a bite that he didn't see Chris' hand sneak over until he'd snatched one of the slices and tossed it to me.

"Catch!"

I did as Chris instructed and Grayson's jaw dropped. An indignant huff fell from his lips as he looked between the two of us.

"That's not nice."

Chris laughed, but I bit back a smile and returned his apple.

"You're right, baby," I agreed, kissing the top of your head. "That was mean, but we were just tricking you. You don't have to share your apple."

"Thanks, Mama."

The frown on his face turned back into a grin and I scraped the rest of the eggs that were in the pan on the stove onto a plate before turning back to the boys once I’d pulled a fork from the drawer.

"So, how do you want to work it with things like groceries while I'm here?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll order it," Chris told me. "They've started doing curbside pick up pretty much everywhere so I was thinking I'd just do that."

"Oh, that's handy, but I meant like money wise. Should I just transfer you my share or do you want to alternate who pays?"

Chris stared at me for a moment as if he was trying to figure out if I was joking before he chuckled.

"I'm not taking any money from you, Whitney."

His voice was firm, but I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What? Why not? I can't let you pay for everything."

"You're not still working, are you?" Scott asked. "Or is it different since, as a photographer, you're so far away from whoever you're taking pictures of?"

"I'm not working," I admitted. "I think it would be doable if it was, like, family portraits or something like that, but the big photo shoots involve too many people. Everyone cancelled on me last week or delayed my contracts until at least the summer."

"So, don't worry about paying for anything then," Chris shrugged. "It's not like you're going to eat that much, I think I can handle the cost."

He was trying to do a nice thing. He was a very generous person with those that he cared about, but I wasn't going to take advantage of him.

"I have savings, Chris," I insisted. "I'm not completely helpless."

As if sensing a rising tension, Scott put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his coffee mug before turning to Grayson.

"Hey, Gray, let's go see what cartoons we can find."

Grayson nodded eagerly and Chris helped him down from the tall stool so he could follow Scott out of the room, taking his little bowl of apples with him.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're helpless," Chris assured me once they were out of earshot. "But you're tiny, I don't think that buying you a few groceries for the next couple of months will financially cripple me."

I tried to temper my defensiveness before I answered him, reminding myself again that he was trying to be helpful.

"I know that, but I don't feel comfortable living here for that long without contributing," I told him. "You already give me more than you need to every month for Grayson."

It was true. Since our custody agreement was that Grayson spent fifty percent of his time with each of us, he wasn't required to pay me any child support. But he did anyway. It was something we’d argued about on and off over the years because the amount that he gave me was way over the top. I appreciated his generosity and I did use all the money to buy things for Gray, but most of it ended up in a bank account that I'd opened for him because there was no way to spend it all in one month without Grayson becoming the most spoiled child in all of Massachusetts.

"I like to make sure he's taken care of."

"Which I am capable of doing with my own money when he's in my care," I reminded him. "But I don't want to start that whole conversation again. I just want to feel like I'm doing my part while I stay with you."

"And I appreciate that gesture, but it won't be necessary," Chris insisted. "You can clean, you can cook, do anything like that to help out, but I won't accept any money, especially while you're not working."

I sighed as he stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher while I put mine on the counter, too distracted by our conversation to eat. I knew it would be a struggle to get him to agree to take money from me, but I wasn't ready to back down so I thought of a compromise and hoped he would accept.

"How about we drop it for now," I suggested. "But if this thing goes on for more than a couple of weeks, can we talk about it again?"

Chris paused and crossed his arms. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was relieved when he agreed.

"Alright," he nodded, hesitating for a moment before adding a stipulation to the deal. "But we're going to talk about your car too before you leave here."

"My car? What about my car?"

"Grayson told me that it's not working properly," Chris admitted. "He said it sounds angry sometimes and that you haven't gotten it checked out yet."

I rolled my eyes, guessing that was one of those 'secrets' that he mentioned.

"It's fine," I assured him. "It made a weird sound one time last week when I tried to start it, but it's still working. I was going to take it in, but then all this virus stuff happened and I didn't have chance."

"You need a new one," Chris informed me. "That one is getting old anyway. I'll take you car shopping when things reopen."

I laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but I could see the annoyance on his face at my reaction.

"You're not buying me a car, Chris. The one I have is perfectly fine and if it's not then I will take myself car shopping, thank you very much."

"Why do you get so defensive when I try to help you?" He asked, his eyes shifting into a glare. "I'm not going to accidentally think that you're in love with me just because you accept a nice gesture from me. I can take a hint, Whitney, I get it."

My jaw dropped and I couldn't hold back a disgruntled scoff at his insane change of topic.

"What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with that," I argued. "I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I knew you were going to hold that over me and throw it in my face all the time."

“All the time? This is the first time I’ve mentioned it!”

“Yes, but I’ve not even been here for twenty-fours hours and you’ve already brought it up!”

Perhaps it was my harsh, snappy tone that did it or my very valid criticism of his low blow, but Chris' body language softened.

"I just don't get why you get so worked up when I'm trying to help you..."

"Because I don't need help, Chris," I explained. "I might not be Captain America rich, but I do just fine and I can take care of myself. I can buy my own groceries and if I really needed to, I could buy myself a new car. You throwing money at me for things like that makes me feel like you don't value the success I've had in my career or my ability to manage my finances which is, quite frankly, offensive."

Chris dropped his arms so they were no longer crossed and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he'd been getting quite defensive as well and had realized it, whether he would admit it or not. I held my head high, proud of myself for explaining my feelings so well and taking him down a notch, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Chris spoke.

"If you were the richest woman in the world, I would still want to buy you a car," Chris started, looking more nervous than the dismissive, self-assured attitude I was getting moments ago. "I'd still want to buy you anything you could ever need because making you happy makes me happy."

My face fell at his confession and my heart clenched again, knowing what the underlying sentiment behind his statement was. It stung more than any hurtful words could have as the sincerity, the genuine care and appreciation, in his voice was heartbreaking. I regretted not adding a condition to our cohabitation that specified he wasn't allowed to say such nice, guilt inducing things as I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation that was more polite than just bolting out the door. 

Too much time was passing as his words hung between us so, short of any good comeback to his words, I shrugged.

"If you want to make me happy, let me contribute for the groceries."

It was Chris' turn to look shocked now, as he was obviously expecting a more thoughtful response to his rather vulnerable admission, but he pulled himself together quickly and a dry laugh fell from his lips.

"Nice try, Whitney," he smiled, shaking his head. "But that's not going to happen."

Without giving me any more time to argue, he turned on his heels and walked out the door leaving me alone to wallow in my guilt and wonder how much longer I'd be able to keep up my act of nonchalance.

-

There was a weird sense of restlessness in the house that day. Usually, killing a few days at home would be no big deal but, as soon as the stay at home orders came into place that morning, the knowledge that we were now unable to do anything else made it feel slightly more suffocating.

Chris wasn't lying though when he said that he planned to make this lockdown as enjoyable as possible so we managed to keep ourselves entertained as we planned out some of the things we could do. Chris and Scott were compiling a list of old movies they wanted to watch again, I ordered a bunch of puzzles and books (some more child appropriate and some for the adults), Chris dug out an old wiffle ball set he had from when they were kids and Scott organized Chris' video game collection, pulling out all the good ones like their favourite: Mario Kart.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling much more optimistic about how our time at home would go. Especially Grayson. It was finally starting to sink in for him that he got to spend the foreseeable future surrounded by all his favourite people - something that was unfortunately a rarity for him given our situation. He was bouncing off the walls as he threw his ideas into the mix and couldn't wait to get started on all the fun.

The excitement of the day led to another early night for him and I excused myself shortly after, declining the invitation to start practicing my Mario Kart skills.

After our conversation that morning, I was trying to keep a bit of distance from Chris. I wasn't mad and it didn't seem like he had any lasting feelings of annoyance either, but our earlier discussion proved to me that there was still tension and resentment between us. I wanted to let it settle and give him some space so our small disagreement didn't turn into a full-blown argument. Living together after everything we'd been through would be an adjustment period and easing into it would probably be the safest route.

So, I took myself off to my bedroom and lounged in bed watching some new mystery show on Netflix. I started it thinking it would just be a good way to pass a few hours until a reasonable time to go to bed but as usual with Netflix, I got sucked in and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.

I closed my laptop, knowing I needed to get some sleep as Grayson was an early riser, but I noticed the glass of water I'd taken upstairs with me hours ago was empty and my mouth was dry. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, taking the glass to the kitchen to fill it up.

I crept down the stairs, assuming everyone would be in bed already, but I was surprised when I got to the kitchen to see the light on. I poked my head into the room and saw Scott sitting at the little island in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand and a melancholy look on his face.

"Hey," I greeted him, alerting him to my presence. "You're up late..."

"I was just FaceTiming with my boyfriend. He's in LA so it worked with the time difference."

"Boyfriend?" I questioned as I headed over to the sink to fill up my glass. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"It's pretty new," he sighed. "We've only been together about a month now."

"That's so exciting! You didn't want to stay in LA and quarantine with him?"

"No, we thought it was too fresh for us to, like, fully move in together and if I was in LA and not living with him then we wouldn't see each other anyway, so I decided I may as well come here."

"That's really hard," I frowned as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "I'm sorry that you had to make a decision like that."

"It's alright," he shrugged despite the sad look on his face. "A lot of people have had to make much tougher decisions than that lately."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset anyway."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I'm just glad we've got so many ways to stay in touch." He flashed me a smile and I was glad to see it. Scott was a good guy and one of those people who was usually so positive and upbeat that it was hard to see him feeling down. "What about you? How are you doing with everything?"

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "Do you mean the deadly virus plaguing the world? Or the fact that I'm in lockdown with the father of my child who I have a fairly complicated history with?"

"Both," Scott chuckled as he sipped his drink of what looked to be whiskey. "But I was more referring to being here in lockdown with Chris."

"It's hard, but I'm doing okay. It's just a weird situation."

"It'll definitely take some time to get used to for both of you," he nodded. "He felt really bad this morning. He told me what you said about how offensive it is when he throws money at you all the time and I totally agree, but I hope you know his heart was in the right place. He tells everyone how talented you are, he would never want to belittle your career."

"I know," I winced. "I overreacted a little bit."

"No, not at all!" Scott assured me. "He needed to hear it. I've been on the receiving end of it too so I know how you felt, but he doesn't realize how it comes off some times. He's just trying to be generous and help the people he loves."

I nodded and I knew that I should just end the conversation there. Tell him that I understood what Chris' intent was and leave it at that. But my heart overpowered my brain and I found myself opening up before I could stop myself.

"I just don't exactly deserve to be on that list," I reminded him. "And I shouldn't take advantage of any feelings he might have for me after the decision that I made."

"You really do deserve to be on that list," he told me with a smile. "He's really in love with you."

"Love might be a bit extreme," I scoffed. "He's made his feelings clear, I know he cares about me, but it's not love."

"He's not made his feelings clear enough then," Scott countered. "Because he's been head over heels in love with you since pretty much the moment he met you."

My mouth went dry as my brain fought to comprehend that claim while all my instincts were telling me that it wasn't true. Scott wouldn't lie to me, he wasn't that kind of person, but he could be exaggerating especially since he had been drinking. There was an honesty in his eyes though, a look that told me he was telling the truth, but I couldn't accept it, it just didn't make sense.

"That's not true," I argued. "He only ever saw me as a friend until that one night and that night was a mistake."

But Scott was confident in what he'd shared and he shook his head.

"He never saw you as just a friend. You were his endgame from day one."

Perhaps it was a delaying tactic, perhaps it was a nervous response or I was subconsciously trying to buy myself some time to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but a giggle slipped out at Scott's choice of words.

"Endgame? Is that an Avengers joke?"

"It wasn't intentional," he assured me with a laugh, but he was quick to get us back on topic. "But I mean it. We had a conversation just a few weeks after you met and he was talking about you like you hung the moon. He's been enamoured from the start."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was speaking with such confidence, but the words he was saying might as well have been another language. Knowing what I knew about our situation, how things had unfolded between us, how that first night together went down and the aftermath of it, there was no sign that Chris had been in love with me. He cared about me, that much I knew, but to be in love? That didn't add up.

Especially when I'd had those feelings all along as well. Surely, I would have noticed had they been reciprocated.

I'd fallen silent as my brain buzzed, scrambling for any gesture or obvious evidence that I'd missed that might prove Scott's claim, but when he spoke again, I was pulled from my thoughts.

"Do you not feel the same way about him?" He asked. "And there's no judgment here, I can see both sides. I love Chris and I want him to be happy, but I respect what you're trying to do."

I felt my heart rate spike again as my palms grew sweaty in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

I was aware of the importance of this conversation, but I was also aware that I wasn't having it with the right person. If Scott was being honest then Chris must have had his reasons for not sharing the depth of his feelings with me and it felt sneaky and deceitful that I was finding out from someone else. It also felt wrong that the answer to Scott's question was on the tip of my tongue. Chris deserved to know before his brother, but I was tired. Fighting through this mess all by myself was wearing me down and Scott had always been one of those people that compelled you to pour your heart out to him. He was a better listener than most and I needed someone, anyone, to give me some kind of guidance. So the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I do feel the same," I admitted, my eyes firmly locked on the glass of water on the table in front of me as I worried I'd be too anxious to speak if I looked Scott in the eye. "I love him very much."

"Then why are you so scared to give him a chance?" He questioned. "Just because of Grayson?"

I nodded, but even I was starting to doubt my own motivations.

"We work together so well right now, but if we give it a shot and someone ends up getting hurt then we might not be able to put our feelings aside and keep things peaceful."

"But aren't you hurting each other every day that you spend in love with each other, but not together?" He pointed out. "Yet, you manage to put Grayson first through all that pain."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

It was an excellent point.

We were both hurting from being apart, it was clear from how defensive we got over silly little things like we had that morning. I could only imagine how Chris felt, but it was hard for me to be around him all the time and just keep things friendly when in my heart I wanted more. I ached at the sight of him every time I dropped Grayson off or picked him up, but we still managed to be friendly and polite through that.

"How many of those drinks have you had?” I teased earning a laugh from Scott. “They’ve made you too wise.”

"Not enough," he joked. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"It is true, but it's different," I insisted. "If we were together and broke up, that kind of hurt can come with a lot of anger. Right now, we might be sad or disappointed about the situation, but there's no anger."

"Oh, there was anger," Scott informed me, grimacing slightly. "After Christmas, when he came back from dropping Grayson off at your house there was definitely anger. He slammed doors, stormed around the house, got drunk off his ass and ranted about it for hours. I've never seen him that upset over being turned down before."

My heart sank at that news. I knew that he'd been upset, but I didn't think he'd taken it that badly. I thought he was just a bit sulky, but now my guilt intensified.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel bad enough as it is..."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Scott assured me, reaching over to rub my back as I forced back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "But it proves that even if one of you ends up heartbroken, you can still put Grayson first because you just did it."

"I didn't, Chris did," I pointed out after clearing my throat. "If it wasn't up to me, if Chris came to his senses and ditched me for some beautiful actress, then I'm not sure that I could be so forgiving."

"Why would he ditch you?"

As promised, there was no judgment in Scott's voice, just genuine curiosity and I shrugged as I answered.

"Because he could have any woman in America."

"Maybe not any woman, let's not get carried away," Scott smirked, his teasing tone making me smile. "But for such a relationship loving guy, don't you think it's interesting that he hasn't been in a serious relationship in about five years?"

That wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but it wasn't the 'gotcha' moment that it seemed like Scott had hoped it was.

"Not really. He's been busy with work the last few years," I pointed out. "And having a baby with me must have complicated his personal life a bit."

"You complicated his personal life the moment he met you," Scott insisted. "That's my point."

He sounded so sure of himself, but the words he was saying were still hard for me to comprehend. I'd always been so confident in my understanding of our relationship and if I was to believe him, it would shatter everything I thought I knew.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't have mentioned this by now..."

"You know how he gets with his anxiety. He's not always the over confident hotshot that people assume he is," Scott reminded me. "But you'll have to talk to him if you want more information than that."

I let out a sigh as I knew he was right.

"There's a lot that we need to talk about," I admitted. "Thank you for this though, Scott, you've given me a lot to think about."

"Anytime," he smiled. "And I completely respect that you're willing to put Grayson first despite whatever feelings you have. You're a wonderful mom and I would be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

I laughed at his outrageous leap from even considering a relationship straight to marriage and shook my head.

"You need to go to bed, Scott," I instructed. "You've clearly had too much to drink tonight."

"I probably have," he agreed. "But I meant everything that I've said. Think about it, okay?"

I nodded as I slid off the stool I was sitting on, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

"I'm here for you too, you know that right?" I asked as I stepped back. "If you ever want to talk about your situation or vent and complain about the distance, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thanks, Whitney," he smiled before dragging himself off his stool as well. "Goodnight."

I returned his smile and mumbled a 'goodnight' of my own before heading back to bed with all the new information that Scott had provided echoing around in my head. While it had been a very informative conversation, I wasn't quite sure whether I came away from it with the clarity I was looking for or just more confusion.

-

Part Three

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7​ @hockeychick10

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #more hearts than mine

[alltooreid]

Clean

As Spencer struggles to overcome his dilaudid addiction, Y/N is dealing with an addiction of her own, to her toxic, manipulative boyfriend. This is an account of a full year, following their joint journeys to sobriety and new love.

A/N: Hi!! I have another Taylor Swift inspired Spencer Reid one shot (but of course you do not need to know the song to understand the one shot). Although originally I was going to write something more fluffy, I switched to this song to write something more angsty and interesting. However, to change pace from my last one shot, this one has a much happier, hopeful ending. However, it is very triggering so please read the trigger warnings before you start. Also, if you have any songs you want to read please let me know!! Also, if you just have a general request please send it my way! Thank you so much for the love on my All Too Well one shot, I never thought my first fanfic on here would be so well received!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

Content Warnings: Cursing, mentally and physically abusive relationship, relationship cheating (ie, reader is being cheated on), blood and cuts description, drug addiction (these parts are kept short purposefully), lots of fighting and yelling both in reader’s relationship and between Spencer and reader, however, there is a happy and hopeful ending. Reader is struggling to get out of her toxic relationship, please no comments about her being stupid. If you are in a situation like Y/N, please don’t use this fic as a guide. Get help immediately. https://www.thehotline.org/

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments, the time and date headers serve as time skips :) let me know what you think! Please request any songs you would like to see be made one shots!

“You're still all over me Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore Hung my head as I lost the war And the sky turned black like a perfect storm”

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You have known Spencer for a long time. In fact, you’ve known him longer than you’ve known Randall, and you’ve felt like you’ve known Randall your entire life.

Maybe that’s because you let him become your entire life.

Still, although you had known Spencer for 7 years, 2 years longer than the entirety of your on again, off again relationship with Randall. You still felt weird calling him. He was going through a lot right now, not that he wasn’t normally. Spencer had one of the most difficult jobs you could think of. You know Spencer has shot and killed people before, and you know every time he did it ate him up inside.

And every time he did he called you.

You also knew that Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met, you struggle to imagine him wielding a gun on a daily basis. He just seems too sweet, too perfect.

Yet there was a lot you didn’t know about the young genius.

You have no idea that as you stand in the street, contemplating whether you should call Spencer to come and get you, Spencer is making a difficult decision of his own. As you worry about the possibility of waking Spencer up this early in the morning, Spencer sits wide awake and ponders if he has enough time to get high before he has to leave for work in 3 hours.

As you sit on the side of the road, debating between your very few options, Spencer leads up against the side of his bathtub tears pouring down his cheeks, tears that he doesn’t even register as being there.

Fortunately for the both of you, at the same time Spencer reaches into his bag to search for that tiny glass bottle, his phone begins to ring.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You sigh, “He kicked me out again Spencer, is there anyway you can come get me?”

Spencer looks around his apartment, frantically hiding the belt and the needles he had gotten out for the events he was anticipating. “Yeah, of course I can come get you, um, just give me a couple minutes and send me your location.”

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of Spencer’s car, both of you sitting in silence. This situation isn’t new to either of you, Spencer has picked you up plenty of times before, in fact he’s done it for years now. One time, about 3 years into your relationship with Randall, you were permitted to go out by yourself with Spencer’s team, they wanted to meet you, apparently Spencer talked about you all the time. While you were at dinner with them, Morgan asked you if you had a car of your own. You explained that you did, but that your boyfriend had it a majority of the time, and that when he didn’t he hated you using it because you always had to mess with everything. He hates you touching his stuff. Morgan made a weird face about that answer, so you quickly followed up, explaining that you didn’t mind.

You do mind though. You hate how he never lets you touch anything or go anywhere, and you hate how much he despises your only form of transportation.

Spencer.

Randall hates everything about Spencer Reid, and he especially hates seeing his car pull into your driveway. That’s why after the 8th time he kicked you out, you started walking half a mile to the nearest gas station before calling Spencer.

The first time Spencer came to get you Randall came out to talk to you before you left.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“It’s Spencer, he’s gonna take me to his apartment.” you explained, confused why Randall was so angry you were leaving when he was the one who had kicked you out.

“Oh so just because I don’t want to look at your bitchass all night that means you can go sleep with another man? I knew you were a whore Y/N. You know him and his stupid fucking car aren’t going to be able to deal with you the way I can. How old is that thing anyway?”

“Randall, calm down, I’m not sleeping with Spencer. I love you, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. But I’m not gonna sit out here all night, where else should I go?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so quick to whore yourself out to the easiest man you could find I would invite you back inside,” he said before slamming the door in your face.

So you got in Spencer’s car, the one Randall would grow to hate so much.

“Are you okay Y/N? He didn’t hit you did he? You know you can come live with me, you should really get out of that house, I can get Morgan tomorrow and we can go get your belongings. I have plenty of-”

You snapped at him, “No Spencer he’s not hitting me! Why do you always jump to that conclusion, Randall is a great guy! I would’ve never called you if you were going to jump to conclusions like this. You’re supposed to be a genius, yet you’re acting like such a dumb ass right now.”

Spencer looked at you, and immediately you regretted your words. You knew Spencer was just worried about you and with his line of work he had reason to be. However before you could apologize he spoke again.

“I’m sorry Y/N, forget I said anything.”

You both sat in silence for a few moments before you even knew what to say, and yet all you could think of was, “Hey Spence, what kind of car do you drive?”

He smiled, “It’s a 1965 Volvo Amazon P130 122S, it’s horizon blue, that’s the color they refer to it as. Did you know they’re known as so reliable that the 4 door models are still used as police vehicles in some places. This one’s a two door, but still runs great. . . “

You smiled, how fitting a man as reliable as Spencer Reid had the perfect car to match.

When you get to Spencer’s apartment something seems off. Spencer has always lived in organized chaos, but this just feels different. Unlike his normal mess, this one feels like a blatant disregard for his things, even some of his most prized possessions. His books are strewn across the floors, his clothes overflowing from his laundry basket, which was a mix of both folded, clean, yet to be put away things and worn items. Weirdly, the one place that looks untouched is his kitchen, as if he hasn’t used it in months. And you mean that in the most literal interpretation, his counters are covered in visible, undisturbed dust.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He smiles, but his eyes look so tired. “Don’t worry about it Y/N.”

And at 4:47, you finally fall asleep in Spencer’s bedroom, which he insists you take, and he stays awake until he leaves for work just a few hours later.

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

You leave Spencer’s apartment the following night, after an unfortunate screaming match with him. You have never seen him so angry, so easily ticked off. Yet as soon as Randall called you Spencer became aggressive.

“Yeah babe, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’ll take a cab and be home within the hour. Of course I’m not mad at you sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean it. I love you, see you soon.”

Spencer exitted his kitchen in a huff, and opened his mouth to start talking before you spoke up.

“I’m sure you’ve overheard already, but Randall’s letting me back in the house. Thank you so much Spence. I really appreciate everything you do to help me. Call me soon please, I definitely owe you lunch,” you said, grabbing your coat and your phone, the only things you had managed to grab from your home before your unplanned eviction.

“Why do you even stay with him Y/N? Why do you keep going back there?” Spencer yelled. You had never seen him like this before, so livid and irritable.

“I love him Spence, and he loves me,” you explained, and you were telling the truth. You do love Randall, and you know that in his heart he loves you too, even if he got a little angry sometimes.

“If he loved you he wouldn’t treat you like this Y/N! Don’t you think I would know? I see this everyday! It’s my job! And yet my best friend is too stupid to realize she’s been in an abusive relationship for almost 6 years!”

You were just as angry now, “You’re wrong Spencer, I don’t wanna hear this okay? I love Randall and he loves me. We deserve each other.”

Spencer’s face softened before growing angry once more, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fuck you Spencer, I’m going home. I don’t need you and I don't need your help,” you said, grabbing your things and slamming the door open. You were lying, you need Spencer and you need his help more than anything, but you didn’t want to admit that while he was being such a dick.

“Fine!” he yelled, “Go run back to him then, but you better not call me when he kicks you out again. I don’t care anymore!”

And so you left, Spencer slammed the door behind you as you stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t stop to think about the fact that Spencer never acts like this. He has never lashed out at you, never questioned your relationship with Randall to your face, let alone scream at you and insult you because of it. You didn’t stop and think about what Spencer was on, or not on, that was making his act like this.

But you thought about it now.

You want to get home before Randall starts to get upset and suspicious, but now after your fight with Spencer you have to walk home. You couldn’t ask him to borrow cash for a cab, let alone ask him to drive you there. You were stuck walking, which also meant you were stuck with Randall’s wrath when you returned.

You already feel terrible about the way you treated Spencer. You think about going to apologize, and stand in front of the door for a second, weighing the pros and cons of doing so. Eventually, you go to turn away, ultimately deciding that you both needed to calm down before speaking to each other again.

Yet as you turn, the door opens. Spencer stands right there, strangely calm, seemingly out of it. All fury and anger you had seen just minutes before gone. In this moment he resembles Randall, and it's the first time you’ve ever been able to draw any comparison to the two.

It’s scary.

“Spencer I-” but you get cut off, not by words, but by an object. Before you can even register what was just thrown in your face the door is closed again. You duck down to grab what was thrown.

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

You light the final candle on your dining room table, before stepping back to admire your work. Randall always came home so late from work, so you rarely ate dinner together. But today was your anniversary, so you stayed up late, prepared his favorite meal and set up all of your fancy dinnerware so that you could have a very late dinner together before he goes to bed and you go to work. He should be home any minute now.

Yet 3 hours later Randall is not back. You’re just about to cut your losses and call it a night, and start to clean up the melted down candles and cold steak dinner as you hear your front door open.

“Y/N! What are you doing still awake?”

“Do you know what day it is Randall? Because I do.”

He looks down at his watch, checks the time, and looks back up at you, “Well it is now 3:57 AM, meaning it is now Monday. Which is why I’m curious as to what you’re still doing up sweetheart, you have to be at work in 3 hours.” “There’s something special about THIS Monday Randall,” you sigh, you’re disappointed but not surprised, this has happened for the past 3 years.

“Do you have a project going on at work baby? You know I can’t keep track of all that crap, your job is so silly and easy to lose track of. You have to remind me of these things if you actually want me to care about them.”

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

He stops, but instead of looking guilty or remorseful (like you secretly hoped), he gets livid, “No it’s not, are you stupid or something?”

“Randall, baby it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

“No! You stupid fucking bitch, are you trying to make me look bad, cooking this stupid fancy dinner and staying up late. Trying to lie and act like I forgot our five year anniversary?! Stop playing the victim Y/N. So tell me, are you lying to make me feel bad, or is your brain really that fucking empty?”

“It’s our six year anniversary,” you whisper.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I was just being stupid Randall. You’re right baby, I forgot the date of our anniversary.”

He snarls. “I don’t think so Y/N, I think, actually I know that not only are you stupid, but that you’re a liar. I know that you just want to make me look bad by preparing our anniversary dinner a week early. And you have to push it by claiming we’ve been together for six years. I know it’s five. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” he yells, pushing his plate of steak and mashed potatoes, letting your parent’s wedding china shatter on the ground. You cry harder. “You’re a stupid, waste of my time Y/N. Five wasted years I’ve spent on you. Do you know why I do it, huh. Do you know why I stay with you when I could have one of the beautiful, rich, successful, truthful women I’m fucking?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I feel pity for you. No other man would want you. I’m the only one that will ever love you. You know that right Y/N?” He picks up a piece of your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear. “Tell me that I’m the only one who will love you, you know it’s the truth right?” You nod your head. In a swift motion Randall turns, grabs a glass full of red wine and chucks it at the wall, narrowly avoiding your left ear.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

“You’re the only one who will ever love me Randall,” you croak out in between sobs.

He closes the distance between you two once more, gripping your chin and jerking your face so that your eyes meant his. It hurts, and makes you cry more, but you don’t say anything.

“Don’t you know it sweetness,” he lets go, delivers a sharp slap to your check and grips your wrist. “Now clean your mess up, and then I think it’s best if you get out of the house for a little bit, don’t you agree?”

You nod quickly. He smiles.

“Good girl, now I would normally be worried about you going to hook up with that string bean you’re always all over, but according to the last time I went through your phone, he isn’t in your recent calls. Glad to know he’s finally done with your bullshit. I’m sure a nice long walk alone will do you good. You can think about what led you to lying tonight, and then maybe you can come back in time for our real anniversary.”

He slips upstairs, so you clean up the rest of the uneaten meal and the broken wine class, cutting up your hands severely in the process. You spend at least an hour in a futile attempt to get red wine stains off of your wallpaper, before grabbing your phone and purse and running out the door.

Even after what Randall says, you still think about calling Spencer. Your thumb hovers over the call button for a minute until you switch the contact, phoning your boss instead. You inform her you need a personal day, and that it’s a family emergency.

You check the time, 6:53. Spencer is almost definitely on his way to work right now. You want to call him so bad, but the things he said you ring through your mind. You can’t ask for his help anymore.

For the first time, you are truly on your own.

Until a familiar horizon blue Volvo pulls up next to the curb you’re sitting on, and Spencer Reid sticks his head out the window.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Get it the car, come on I’ll drive you to work with me.”

Confused as you are, this is your best option right now. So you climb into the passenger seat of his car, refusing to make eye contact with him, instead looking at your bleeding hands. “Oh my god, Y/N. You’re bleeding. Did Randall do this to you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“No, Spencer, Randall didn’t do this to me. He dropped a wine glass and I helped him pick it up. Now just drive.” And he does, drive that is. But you can feel his stares, on your cut up hands, and you forming bruises. You can feel him profiling the signs of abuse on your body.

But more than that you hate that you can feel he’s upset with you. Upset because you didn’t call him. Does he not remember screaming at you not too?

He pulls into the parking lot, parks the car and finally turns to make eye contact with you. He has tears in his, “I really wish you would’ve called me Y/N. If it’s getting this bad I want you to stay with me.”

“Spencer am I going insane?”

“Of course not, what do you mean?” he looks so gentle, so kind and you’re so confused.

“Do you remember what day me and Randall started dating?”

“Yes, it was April 23rd, 2001. 6 years ago today actually. Is that why he did this to you? Does it have anything to do with that?”

“How can you remember that but not our screaming match a week ago?” you laughed, your hands burned now, there’s definitely glass in there, you swear you can feel the tiny little shards in your blood.

“What do you mean, Y/N? We didn’t scream at each other? I haven’t even seen you in weeks. How long has he been hitting you? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Spencer, on the 16th you picked me up and took me back to your apartment because Randall kicked me out. On the evening of the 17th I went to leave because Randall told me I could come home. You said I was being abused and called me stupid for going back to him. When we fought about it I stormed out and you told me not to call you if he kicked me out again because you didn’t care anymore. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

You look up at Spencer, and nearly start crying yourself when you see his crumpled face. Tears are freely spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I don’t remember that,” he pushes his long hair out of his face, clearly frazzled, “I- I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

Before you can say anything, Spencer pulls out his phone. “Hey Hotch, it’s me. I can’t come in today. I need to use a personal day. . . I’ll tell you later. Okay, thank you” He angrily pulls out of the parking lot, and you can tell he’s headed back to his apartment.

“Spencer it’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”

“No Y/N, it’s not okay. I said all those terrible things to you, of course you were scared to call me after them. The worst part is I was too high to even remember it all. I- I just can’t believe I helped him do this to you,” tears still freely flowing down his face.

“Spencer what are you talking about? I was with you all day, you weren’t high. You don’t even drink, how could you be high?”

He sighs, “do you remember when I was kidnapped by that unsub, Tobias Hankel? About 2 months ago?” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Well, I told you about his multiple personalities, how one beat me to death and then Tobias resurrected me, how  I had to kill Tobias in order to survive, even though Tobias himself did nothing to me. Well when I was in the barn, Tobias would give me drugs, dilaudid, in order to cut the pain of his other personalities’ abuse. When I killed him, I took the drugs he had one him with me, and I can’t stop Y/N. It’s affecting my life, my work, and now it’s affecting you.” He parks his car in his apartment complex’s lot and turns to look at you. “Hotch has never said anything about it, so even though the team knows I have no reason to quit, I think I do now. Y/N, I think we need to get clean together.”

Suddenly that night made sense, Spencer was irritable and strange, he wasn’t high, he was going through withdrawal. But when he threw the money at you, so loopy and out of it, he was on it. He was so high he didn’t remember the moments before.

“Spencer, I don't know what to say. I want to help you get sober, I want that more than anything, but I’m not addicted to drugs, I rarely even drink.”

“I know Y/N, you don’t have a drug problem like me, but you are an addict. You need to leave Randall. You know it, I know it, but you can’t.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Spencer continues to speak, “It’s okay, I understand why. But we both need to quit, and I think it’s best if we do it together.”

“Well how are we supposed to do that,” you whisper.

“Come on, let’s get started,” you and Spencer exit his car, he loops your hands together, leading you up to his apartment. When you get there, he digs through his messenger bag and grabs a couple of tiny glass bottles and a syringe. He throws them into his garbage can, and turns to look at you.

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to block Randall’s number.”

You want to fight him on it, but you know he’s right. You need to leave Randall, and now’s as good of a time as any. Yet, you can’t forget the things he’s said to you. “I can’t Spencer, he’s my boyfriend, he loves me.”

“Y/N, please, please do this with me.” You shake your head, he sighs. “Okay, I get it, this is going to take time. Just, um, stay with me for a couple days. Please. We can go get your stuff tomorrow night.”

You think about rejecting Spencer’s offer, but you really don’t want to go back there. More than anything, you want to stay right here. You try to tell yourself it’s because you’re worried about Spencer, but deep down you know it’s more than that. So you nod, and Spencer wraps you in a hug, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now let’s go get your hands wrapped up.”

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

You’ve been staying at Spencer’s for just over a week now. You haven’t seen Randall since your anniversary, and Spencer hasn’t taken dilaudid while you’ve been here. Things are going well. You’re watching a lot of bad reality TV, and Spencer has gone through about 7 packs of Gatorade, but you’re both doing okay.

Now you were just waiting for him to come back from his case in Idaho, you knew this one was pretty bad. They were searching for a woman in the middle of a huge forest, as she was being hunted and chased down. Spencer called you right before getting on the jet, and told you he would be home soon, so now you were just waiting for him.

While doing so however, you found something. A lump on Spencer’s side of the mattress. Under it, were two small glass bottles and a syringe. The same ones you had seen Spencer throw into the garbage days prior.

Now you need to talk to Spencer, so you sit on his couch, and wait for him to come home. When he comes through the door, he immediately sees you and smiles. “Y/N! I’ve missed you.” He hugs you, and for a second you forget why you’re even mad at him in the first place.

“Spencer, I need to talk to you. I found your bottles.” The mood in the room instantly shifts, but you don’t care, you need to get your words out. “You told me you were quitting, I watched you throw them away.”

He brushes his hairs through his hair, and begins to mess with his hands. “I am quitting Y/N, I haven't taken any, but. . .  I just need them to be there.”

“Spencer, please, throw them away. I’m trying to help you here.” Suddenly he grows very angry, and you can tell you said the wrong thing.

“Well I’m trying too. To me it seems the only one not trying is you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you still haven’t blocked Randall, he still calls all the time! Why do I have to throw my addiction away if you can’t even do the same to yours?”

“That's not fair.”

“How so?” he yells. “How is it that you can’t block your abusive, no good piece of shit boyfriend but I have to throw away the things I enjoy? That doesn’t feel like trying to me.”

“I’m not addicted to Randall Spencer, I just love him. I don’t want or need to quit him.”

“Oh really? Then why are you even still here? Why haven’t you answered his calls? Or gone to see him? I think you know exactly why.”

And you do. You don’t want to go back there, but what Randall says is true. He is the only one who will love you, and you’re not ready to lose that yet. You’re not ready to cut off all contact with him.

“I can leave if that’s what you want Spencer.”

His face softened, “no, that’s not what I want. That’s the last thing I want.” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If you block Randall I’ll throw away my dilaudid.”

You ponder it, “Okay.”

He breaks into a wide smile. “Really? You’ll do it?”

You smile at him.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll block Randall.”

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

Even after watching Spencer pour out his bottles, breaking up the glass and tossing it away for a second time, you couldn’t. Even after seeing him snap his syringes in half, and feeling him kiss your forehead, after seeing how happy and excited he was for your fresh start together, you just couldn’t do it.

Spencer thought you did, and it was easy to hide the truth from him. Randall hadn’t called since then, so you and Spencer continue to spend time together, last week you celebrated one month of sobriety. You got an ice cream cake and little, silly party hats and exchanged gifts.

And it made you feel like shit.

Spencer was so happy, so proud that you had both been clean for a month, but you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to be clean at all.

You still can’t decide if you should block Randall’s number.  

You try not to think about it, instead focusing the energy into making you and Spencer virgin pina coladas, he was currently out picking up burgers from your favorite restaurant. When he returns, you were going to watch one of your crappy reality TV reruns, and then an episode of Doctor Who. It was Spencer’s idea a couple days ago, and quickly it became a regular occurrence.

Faintly over the loud whir of the blender you can hear your phone ringing. You run  quickly to go grab it, just in case Spencer needed your help with something, but your heart drops when you see the caller ID. It’s Randall, trying once again to contact you.

Your thumb hovers over the accept button, but before you can make a decision, the call times out and sends Randall to voicemail. You let out a breath and set your phone down.

But then something possesses you, and you snatch your phone and dial Randall’s number. He picks up on the 3rd ring.

“Baby, oh my god baby is that really you?”

He sounds so excited to hear from you, how could you have stayed mad at him for so long?

“Yes baby, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls at all. I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t worry sweetness, I’m so so sorry for the things I said to you, I need you to come home. You missed our anniversary you know? But it’s okay! We can celebrate now! I got you a really beautiful gift, one we can definitely experiment with tonight.” You could hear his smirk over the phone.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to come back right now, maybe later baby, but not right now.”

You hear his breathing pick up, and tense. You can tell he’s getting agitated. He wasn’t expecting you to answer like that, you always come home as soon as he tells you you can come back. “What do you mean? You’re being ridiculous, I want to see my girlfriend. I’m sure you want to get off of the streets too, you’ve been squatting for over a month now.”

“I’m not squatting Randall, I’m living with Spencer.”

“What!?” he yells. “I thought I told you not to stay with him. I hate that guy, you know that.”

“Would you rather me be on the streets Randall? Spencer’s a great guy, and I want to stay here.”

“Frankly, yes I would. But don’t worry, you can still come home. Just send me the prick’s address and I’ll come pick you up. We can enjoy tonight together.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to send you Spencer’s address. I’m staying here. I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone Randall. I’m done.”

Before he could say anything, you hung up. As you did so you heard the front door open, and Spencer made his way to the bedroom.

“Hey! I got burgers! Ready to eat?” he looks down to see your phone still resting in your hand, stuck on the phone app. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just an old friend,” you say.

“Think you’ll be talking to them again anytime soon?” you can tell he knows, and you’re surprised he isn’t lashing out at you. You’re so used to how Randall reacts when you go against his wishes, Spencer’s calm, understanding presence is like a breath of fresh air.

“No, I think I’m ready to leave them behind,” you smile at each other. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a sec okay?”

He nods, and goes to set up the food and TV.

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

You haven’t gone out with your coworkers in months, you forgot how good it feels to just be present with people. You didn’t even drink tonight, wanting to remember every second of this time out with friends. You were beaming when you unlocked the front door.

Yet your smile slips when you enter what had become you and Spencer’s shared bedroom.

He isn’t there.

You pull out your phone to call him when you hear a thud coming from the bathroom door. You hesitate, scared of what you know you’ll likely find. When you finally throw the door open you’re already teary eyed, and these sobs escalate as soon as you see Spencer, tipped over, lying on the bathroom floor, the needle still sticking out of his arm.

You’re sobbing as you rip it out, hastily undoing the belt wrapped around his upper forearm. He looks up, even in his groggy haze you can see the guilty look in his eyes when they made contact with yours.

“Y/N. . . I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me but I just couldn’t stop myself . . . I-”

“Shhh, It’s okay, just breathe,” you whisper through your tears. “It’s going to be okay Spencer, I’m here, and it’s going to be okay. I’m staying right here.” You pull his head into your lap, stroking your shaking hands through his hair.

His head begins to shake, and you can feel his tears on your dress. You rest your head on his, and for a few seconds you just sit there, crying together.

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

Your head is buried in his chest, you need to be able to hear him breathe. You need to hear his heart beating. You need to be as close to him as possible right now. He stirs as he wakes up, and wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“Don’t apologize Spencer, this is a part of recovery okay? You’re still in recovery, just because you relapsed doesn’t mean we have to start over. You’re so much stronger than you were before. So much braver. So much better. You can do this.”

He smiles at you, “thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course, now withdrawal is going to be even harder this time. I’m going to the store. We’re going to need plenty of Gatorade and water. We have to flush everything out of your system. Do you mind if I take your car to the store?”

He beams, even in his groggy state he manages to look so perfect, “You know my car is always yours to use Y/N.”

“I’ll be back soon okay? Don’t move a muscle,” you grab his keys and head out the door. And you really do mean it, you fully intend this to be the shortest grocery trip of your life. You’re terrified of leaving Spencer alone long enough to get high again, even though you spent all day yesterday searching for drugs and throwing anything you found in the garbage, taking it out the main apartment dumpster that night. 

You get to the store, grab everything you need, 3 packs of blue Gatorade, 6 cases of water bottles, and the store’s entire stock of Jell-O and rush back to Spencer’s car. You were only in the store for 17 minutes, the majority of which was just check-out time. You smile, thinking of how excited Spencer will be when he sees all the Jell-O in the fridge, but feel your stomach drop when you see a familiar face examining Spencer’s car.

Randall. 

Before you can decide what to do, he turns and sees you. 

“Y/N! I was expecting Spencer, but this is even sweeter. I knew I recognized this hunk of junk. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around, I’m kind of on a tight schedule here. I really need to get going,” you say as you load up your groceries into Spencer’s trunk. 

“That’s a lot of Jell-O sweetheart, you hate Jell-O.” That’s not even true. You hate pudding, you love Jell-O.

As much as you wanted to yell at him for calling you sweetheart, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. You still missed him. Blocking him helped, but you still felt strong urges to call him sometimes. “It’s not for me, it’s for Spencer.”

“I thought I told you not to stay with him anymore.”

“What part of that conversation would make you think I would listen to you?” you say.

“You should always listen to me Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

“I haven’t seen you in months, we’re not dating anymore. I’m done.”

“You don’t mean that you’re just being irrational. Are you on your period? I bet that’s it. Come get breakfast with me. You probably just need chocolate, and the place down the block has incredible chocolate waffles.”

You open your mouth to reject him, but you can’t. Part of it is because you know if you do then he’ll follow you back to your apartment and the last thing you want is for him to know where you’re living right now. But the other part is much worse. A big part of you wants to let him try again. You can’t explain why, but you really want for him to redeem himself as your first love.

“Ok, you have 20 minutes, let’s go get breakfast.”

The walk there is silent and awkward. Randall grabs your hand, too tight for you to do anything about it, and keeps this grip until you sit down in your booth. 

You don’t get chocolate waffles. You really don’t even like chocolate all that much. Randall knows that, or at least you thought he did. Instead you get cinnamon french toast, and within minutes it’s at the table. 

“You know baby, Spencer doesn’t love you.” He says halfway through your french toast.

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been with him in that apartment for a while now. I’m surprised he hasn’t given you the boot.”

You sit in silence, Randall takes this as a sign to continue. “We’ve been together for five years, sweetness. No one can love you the way I do. That’s just a fact. Spencer fucking Reid can not replace me, no one can replace me.”

“I hate that you’re right. I hate that I can’t breathe when I’m not with you Randall. I hate that you’re stuck to me. You’re this god awful stain on my life. I hate looking at it but no matter what I do I can’t wash it off.”

He smirks. “You’re not gonna get rid of me Y/N.” He pays the check, and gets up from the table. You go to get up too, but notice he didn’t tip your waitress, so you leave another five bucks on the table. 

When you get outside he grasps your shoulders. “I knew you would come around Y/N, I knew you would get it. Now come on, we can go collect your stuff from that prick’s apartment and get you home. I know exactly how you can make it up to me.”

You pause, “I don’t think so Randall. I’m not ready quite yet, but I promise I’ll call you.” You meant it, you had already unblocked him from your phone.

“Oh absolutely not, you’re going home with me now.”

“No I’m not.” As you were yelling at each other you notice a strangely familiar face standing nearby, just in ear shot. You can’t place him, but you know you’ve met before.

“Yes you are! We’re happy together and you’re coming to live with me again!”

“We don’t love each other, Randall! Not right now at least!” 

He’s livid, and once again you feel that scared, indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach. “That’s not true! I’ll prove it to you.” He grabs your chin and pulls your face to his.

You feel as if water is filling your lungs, you’re drowning and no one is around to save you. Randall is physically stronger than you, you’re stuck in his grasp. It’s like you’re screaming and no one can hear you. 

And yet, this flood of emotions you’re feeling is the first time you realize something. 

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

After what feels like minutes (but is actually about 3 seconds) of being unseen and vulnerable, you discover you’ve been protected the whole time. The man you can't place rips Randall off of you, “What’s wrong with you? Get off of her!”

It’s his voice that lets you place him. Derek Morgan, Spencer’s closest friend and coworker, punches Randall in the face. “Get out of here!”

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU? That’s my girlfriend! Sweetheart, tell him to leave us alone!”

They both turn and look at you, with tears in your eyes you look at Morgan and shake your head. “Please, get him to leave.”

And Morgan does just that, with a little yelling and a flash of his FBI badge, Randall is running for the hills.

“Come on baby girl, let’s get you back home. Did you walk here?”

You shake your head, “No, I drove Spencer’s car here.”

“Well, how bout I drive you home, and then afterwards I swing back and get Spencer’s car and drop it off?”

So you do just that. After profusely thanking Morgan, and him insisting that it was nothing, and also insisting to carry your groceries in from the car, you and Spencer are together once again. 

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I didn’t believe you before. I was going to go back to him. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t talk like that Y/N, you said it best yourself. Just because you relapse doesn’t mean you aren’t trying, and it most certainly doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“I think it’s time we get clean Spencer. Both of us, once and for all.”

“I think so too Y/N.”

He pulls you into a hug and in between sniffles you manage to choke out what you’ve been wanting to say since you got into Morgan’s car. “I love you.”

He looks at you, and the look in his eyes almost makes you cry out of pure joy. He looks so happy, as if he’s been waiting for you to say that for years. 

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

You press your lips to Spencer’s, you know he has just woken up, but you know it’s a big day for him. 

You both have been sober for over ten months now. Today is the day of his first group meeting. He found Beltway Clean Cops recently, and has been so excited to go. You’re excited for him. You know how proud he is of you, and you want to show him in every way possible that you’re proud of him.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you. “What did I deserve to get a wake up like that?”

“What kind of question is that? You’re incredible, and an incredible boyfriend deserves an incredible morning. Do you know what else he deserves?”

He hums and waits for the answer.

“An incredible breakfast! That’s why I made blueberry pancakes. Now hurry up and come eat. You should  leave soon if you want to make it to your meeting on time. Have I told you yet how incredibly proud I am of you?”

He smiles, “Only an average of 15.6 times a day since I told you I was going.”

“Well that’s not nearly enough, now come on, get up. It’s pancake time,” you say. “Oh, and Spencer?”

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

You ate breakfast together and then forced Spencer out the door, making sure he had plenty of time to get to his meeting. You knew he would regret it if he was late. 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you still thought about Randall a lot. You still missed him. You still love him in a way. But now that you had Spencer, now that you were clean together, you would never risk going back to him. 

That day where you agreed to go to breakfast with him, Derek asked you if you wanted to press charges. You didn’t, you don’t regret that either.

You’re even more proud of yourself this way, because you know he’s still there, still accessible and available to you, and still didn’t run to him. You know that any trace of Randall in your future is gone. 

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

“Ten months sober, I must admit Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it Ten months older I won't give in Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencerreidxreader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #reid x reader #criminal minds reid #reid fanfic #reid #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds angst

[aressss1]

Gold and Emeralds Chapter 2

(Technoblade x Reader)

Read me on AO3!

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~~~~~~

Techno had found some semblance of peace in this cold tundra. Where the wind chill was anything but peaceful. His tiny family consisted of you, Phil, and maybe even Ranboo, not that Techno would ever acknowledge it. When you had come into his life, stolen his heart and you both agreed to be with each other for the rest of your lives, he felt almost as if he were complete.

 His heart swelled with pride when he saw you gazing over the netherite sword he had given you when he had proposed. You wanted to spar him often, not that you would use the sword on him. Sharpening your skills was on his priority list, as there was an ever-looming threat in the distance on the DreamSMP. Whatever was going on with the egg, he would not let anything happen to you, but he would not let you be defenseless.

At this point in his life, Techno was ready to say he was through with adventuring, taking down governments. Quiet nights with you had more appeal to them than finding rare treasure. Taking more pleasure in reading daring stories to you than living them, he felt the voices ebb away. Even when they had inevitably come back just like the stresses of daily life. Even so, there were adventures he loved taking you on just as much as well. He hoped his next retirement wasn’t like his last one.

 The two of you were on your way back from raiding a woodland mansion, the two of you stopping to camp in a spruce forest. The tent had been pitched, the food was cooking over an open fire, the sky above turned many hues of pinks and purples, and you found yourself sitting in front of Techno, his legs on either side of you. He sat with his back resting on one of the spruce trees, as he took a brush through your hair. It was something the both of you loved doing for the other.

 Every once in a while, his golden eyes traced over your neck and he would smile upon seeing the gold chain, knowing the ring that symbolized everything between the two of you lay just above your collarbone. When he was done brushing through your hair, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of your neck just above the chain. He smirked when you would shiver at his touch. He brought his arms around you squeezing you to him.

 “Tech?” You leaned back into him, and he rested his chin on your shoulder as he hummed out a response. “Do you think we will ever just have a normal life?” Staring wistfully up at the sky, you sighed, making his grip tighten on you.

 “…It’ll happen.” His voice even though monotone, he tried sounding convincing. “We just have to keep fighting.” He knew you were worried something would happen, and your worries were valid. But for now, the two of you were happy, finding solace in these tiny moments.

 “What if…” It was almost as if you couldn’t bare to say it, “what if something happens.” The tremble in your voice, made his heart ache. He could feel your shoulders start shaking. “I don’t want to lose you before we really start to live our lives together.”

 Technoblade looked to the ground in thought. He listened to you cry, looking for any way to cheer you up. He was at a loss, he still had troubles finding the right words to say when you were upset. He let his hands caress your skin in a comforting manner. He held you tighter to him, whispering that it was going to be okay and other comforts in your ear. Nothing seemed to help. Until an idea popped in his head.

 “How about…” he began, “we get married sooner than later. I know you wanted to wait until all of this egg stuff was out of the way but… Why not sooner?” You wiped your tears away at his question and let out a shaky breath. Your eyes look over the darkening horizon. Why not?

 “It definitely wouldn’t be a perfect wedding.” You chuckle out wiping the rest of your tears from your eyes.

 “Darlin’ as long as you’re there it’ll be perfect.” He peppered the back of your neck in kisses. You shifted so that you kneeled in front of him, and you were now nose to nose with him. Your hands resting on his chest. “You’re gonna look so handsome.” You teased and enjoyed the shade of red Techno turned. You didn’t give him time to retort back, and you kissed him. Melting into him, the two of you watched the sunset together. Though you loved the thought of truly becoming Techno’s one and only, you now had a wedding set in the near future, to plan, and that was a scary thought.

 --

 When you and Techno had returned to the cabin in the middle of the tundra you were relieved to have a bath and that’s exactly where you marched off to when the front door swung open. Techno chuckled as he watched you complain about the grime on your skin from adventuring and you disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. It took Techno no time at all, to turn around and stroll up to Phil’s house. His knuckles rapped against the door, and he heard Phil’s footsteps make their way to the door he was standing at.

 “Hey, Phil,” Techno sheepishly said as the door opened and out stepped Phil. “I need to ask you somethin’.” Phil gave him a warm smile, motioning for him to come in.

 “Sure mate,” When Techno stepped in, he closed the door behind him “How was your trip?” Phil noted the apprehension emanating off of Techno the moment he saw him. “Find any totems?” He sat Techno down at his table and prepared him some tea.

 “It went fine, we found two of ‘em,” Techno shrugged, “It wasn’t too bad.” Techno lightly tapped his fingers on the wood of the table.

 “How did they do?” Phil motioned his head toward the building you were currently in. This caused a smile to erupt on Techno’s face. Phil chuckled quietly to himself and shook his head.

 “Their hard work is definitely paying off.” Techno’s chest swelled with pride. You had gotten really good with your sword. It was one thing to spar; it was a different thing when you had to use it in an actual fight. “They still need to work on their footwork, but they were keeping up with me.”

 Phil listened to Techno gush about how much you had learned from the both of them, and how you had picked up on both of his and Phil’s battle tactics.  Phil was extremely happy that Techno had finally found someone. Techno deserved this type of happiness. He could still remember how cold Techno was to you in the beginning. Not showing any type of emotions toward you. It was a struggle to even get him to hold your hand. He still struggled to give any sort of affection in front of others.

 “This, uhhh, wasn’t what I came here for.” Techno cleared his throat after he was done, and Phil smirked at the slight blush on Techno’s cheeks. “I uhh…” Techno hesitated. “Phil, how do you plan weddings?”

 “Decided to do it sooner, did you?” Phil raised his eyebrows at Techno, and Techno self-consciously nodded. Phil nodded back, as he leaned forward in his chair. His elbows rested on the table as he rested his chin on his intertwined hands. “There’s a lot to it. But I think first things first is to invite all the guests and we go from there.” Techno grunted in agreement. “I found a book on Piglin bonding ceremonies a while back that might help too.” Phil shrugged.

 Techno wanted to give you a good wedding, or… Bonding ceremony… But… It would have to be a small one… Did you want to have a big wedding? Was he depriving you from that? What if someone tried objecting to the marriage? His mind went a million miles a minute and the voices in his head didn’t help one bit either.

 “Mate,” Phil snapped Techno out of his thoughts. “Don’t worry about it, it’s going to be fine.” Phil got up and poured him a cup of the tea. “They’re going to love you no matter what, I am sure of it.”

 Techno had to trust Phil on this one, and he did.

 --

 Months had passed and you and Techno had become terribly busy dealing with the egg. BadBoyHalo had even managed to trap you in, next to the egg. You struggled to get out, trying to ignore its words making their way into your ears. Even though you couldn’t understand what it was saying to you, the egg had started to take its toll on you. It had been hours before Techno had found you. When he had found you, you were a babbling mess. The vines that encroached on you left red marks on your skin.

 After that, Techno took Sam’s advice and bathed you in the holy water of Church Prime. Most of the marks had faded but a few had remained. They had started to fade with time. But with that scare Techno was even more protective over you. Going as far as to taking you out to get a trident of your own. So, if you were ever in that situation again you would be able to get out.

 In the back of Techno’s mind, he wanted to give you the wedding of your dreams, and he hadn’t said anything to you about it since that night you had talked to him about it. You had just figured the day would come when you had time to plan. What you didn’t realize that Philza and Techno were planning it all for you… Well at least a piglin marriage, they figured they would give you the chance to plan a human one yourself afterward, if that was what you wanted to do. The close encounter reminded Techno that time was short, and he had almost lost you in that brief amount of time.

 When life had gone back to semi-normal, and the marks had all but faded from your skin. Ranboo and Niki had come to your door. Both of them pulled you by the hands claiming the two of them had something to show you. As per Phil’s orders to bring you to the surprise wedding, they were also told to keep it a secret. You looked at them warily, pulling back from them.

 “Where’s Techno?” Paranoia itched at the back of your mind. What if the egg had gotten to these two? Your fingers run over where the faint red marks still were.

 “We’re bringing you to him.” Niki explained, almost feeling hurt by you recoiling the way you did. You shook your head.

 “I-I’m not going anywhere I don’t know without Techno. Why didn’t he come and get me himself?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you. Starting to back away from them, your fingers twitched for your trident. They pleaded with you, saying that they were leading you to a good place.

 “You’re taking me somewhere good?” You deadpanned at them. “You realize that that is along the lines of what Bad told me too?” That was when it dawned on them, that you were truly frightened. They had been so excited for the wedding they hadn’t even thought about your trauma. But they were too late, you had booked it to the nearest lake. You broke the ice by slamming your foot down and you broke through, feeling the freezing water up to your waist you flew through the air and pearled toward the community portal, just like Techno showed you.

 When you landed on the ground, you could hear their footfalls behind you. They called your name, and when you looked back at them you were gone. With the pearl having done its job, you run to the nether portal. Feeling that familiar queasy feeling as you enter the portal, you open your eyes to what could only be described as the depths of hell, you had walked these depths with Techno many times. Knowing that they would come through here, you started running. Nowhere was safe, the DreamSMP, your cabin, hell not even the nether that you were currently running through was safe from your enemies, you didn’t want to go back to the egg. You would go great lengths to make sure of that. Maybe you were overreacting? Maybe, but it was better than being wrong. The last time you had trusted someone so easily, you had almost lost everything. You were not about to risk it all again.

 ~~

 “HEH?!” Techno grit his teeth. Niki and Ranboo flinched at his outburst. He would apologize to them later for it. Without another word after they had told him you were in the nether, he walked away and through the nearest portal.  How could he have been so stupid? He should have known this would have happened. He was proud that you could outrun Ranboo and Niki, but now you were missing and while he had confidence in you that you would be safe. He needed to find you.

 He would track you down as if you were his prey. His piglin instincts would help him with that and being in the nether would only strengthen those instincts. This wasn’t Niki or Ranboo’s fault, but he knew he needed to be there for you. He set off in search of you in the nether.

 His eyes flooded black once more as he started to look for you from the portal you had come through. He immediately caught your scent, and he ran as if his own life depended on it. You had taken so many twists and turns through the nether but no one that wasn’t a hybrid could find you. And while he was impressed for a moment about your hide and seek skills he was done, all he wanted was you in his arms. To confirm your safety.

 All it took was a sniffle, and he had found you. You had found yourself a little nook in the netherrack.

 “Darlin’?” He whispered when he saw you with your face buried in your knees. When you looked up and saw him you basically launched yourself into his arms. “I’m here, everything is alright. I’ve got you.” He kissed your forehead as he rocked you in a comforting manner.

 “I was so scared Techno…” Your tears stained his shirt and he rubbed circles in your back.

 “I know, I’m here now. I should have come for you myself.” He cooed in your ear.

 “Why didn’t you?” You were shaking, and Techno would never forgive himself for doing this to you.

 “I… Knew I wouldn’t have been able to keep the secret from you.” His embarrassed tone makes you sigh. You press your face into his chest. Techno gave you a few minutes to calm down and when you look up at him with your puffy red eyes, he kissed you. When the two of you part, you notice he’s not wearing his usual attire. He was wearing a red tailcoat adorned with black accents and golden buttons, a white undershirt, and regular black pants.

 “What is this?” You smirk pinching the fabric of the tailcoat between your fingers. Techno couldn’t deny the blush creeping over his face.

 “…Do you not like it?” He hesitated his eyes scanning over his clothes. You could only giggle at his reticence.

 “I love it, it suits you well, I’m just wondering… Why?” You cocked your head at him, your stare meeting his.

 “I think it would be better if I showed you,” He kept his hand on your lower back, as he led you through the nether. When he had to figure out where in the nether you two were, you could only tease him about being lost. But when he found a familiar landmark, he would boast about being the human GPS. You shook your head at him, giggling at him.

 The two of you walked for a while, and the end of your journey in the nether ended in a lone nether portal staring back at the two of you.

 “Are you ready?” His thumb ran over your knuckles in a comforting manner. You nodded and he led you into the purple light of the portal, you squeezed your eyes shut. When you disappeared from the nether you found yourself hearing the calm sounds of the ocean. Opening your eyes, you were out in the open, the trees above you shading the area around you. A nice cool breeze rolled around the two of you and you stepped from the portal.

 Techno’s hand rested on your lower back once again as he guided you down a path, the area around you had been decorated with numerous flowers, and lanterns. You could hear voices from ahead and you cocked your head at the number of voices you heard. Suddenly, you were embarrassed about running off and you didn’t want to show yourself to so many people after all that. Techno nudged your shoulder with his telling you that it was going to be alright.

 Techno guided you through the brush and when the sun hit you just right, you closed your eyes in order to not be blinded, when you opened your eyes you felt a blush spread upon your cheeks. There staring back at you, were the relieved faces of an entire group standing next to a bunch of chairs and tables.

 Puffy, Niki, Ranboo, Tubbo, Phil, Foolish and Sam, had all cheered when they had seen you. You had even heard… A… Tiny pig squeal? One that hadn’t come from your hybrid of a fiancé, even he was looking around for the source of the sound.

 “Heh?” Techno had easily found the culprit. “Ranboo what is this?” Techno motioned to both Tubbo and a baby zombie piglin. “First you bring government to our weddin’ and now you have a small child?” You could hear the amusement in his voice as clear as day, but the others didn’t know Techno the way you did, well, except for Phil. Ranboo’s eyes slid over to Tubbo, who was tending to the child.

 “I’m Ranboo’s plus one and Michael is my plus one.” Tubbo didn’t miss a beat, his cheerful tone never faltering.

 “I don’t think it works like that.” Ranboo stated his eyes shifting between Tubbo and Techno.

 “Oh… I think it does.” Something in Tubbo’s tone changed, as his eyes met Ranboo’s, “You know just as well as I do, that we aren’t leaving him alone.” Tubbo’s words sounded almost threatening, not to Ranboo, but maybe to the other people who were around. Ranboo’s eyes scanned over Sam, who looked like he knew exactly what he had done, for a slight second. There was definitely history there, and you pull Techno back opting out of the conversation and offering your own up to him.

 “Our wedding huh?” You raised your eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at your lips. “And you didn’t think to ask me for help on our own wedding?” Techno looked away pretending he didn’t know what you were talking about.

 “This isn’t exactly a wedding,” Phil stepped forward. “This is more of a ritual between Piglins, when they find the one, they want to be bonded to for life. Did I get that right Techno?” You shifted your eyes to Techno, who nodded.

 “I know you want a real wedding, and I don’t want to take that away from you.” Techno held you closer, “I want to be bonded with you in the terms of both Piglins and humans, and when everything is said and done, I will give you a real wedding.” Tears flooded your eyes and you clung to him as if he would just disappear. He cradled you in his arms, looking uncomfortable with all the onlookers around. It didn’t take too long to regain your composure as you still felt the eyes of the others on you. Niki was the next one to approach you.

 “I’m so sorry about before.” She started, taking your hand in hers. Heat rose up your neck, and an embarrassed blush covered your cheeks. “I should have explained it better.” You didn’t have to say anything, you just gave her a hug. When you let her go was when you told her that it was okay and after a minute of talking, she pulled you away, to help you get dressed for the ceremony.

 Techno watched Niki pull you away and he gave out a content sigh. His eyes landing on Phil. He strides over to Phil on the hill overlooking the ocean.

 “Is everything done?” Phil picked up on the worry in Techno’s monotone voice.

 “Yeah, don’t worry about it, mate.” Phil patted Techno’s shoulder, the tenseness throughout Techno’s body never faltered. “I’m glad you found them. We were all worried for a second.” Techno looked behind him, so many faces, faces he didn’t expect to be here. They all talked among themselves. The one face he looked at the most, looked back at him curiously.

 “Phil… What’s with the zombie piglin?” Techno turned back to Phil, who let out a laugh.

 “Yeahhhh, that’s Michael. He’s their child. It’s a long story.” Phil waved his hand in the air, signifying that he would tell him later. Techno let out a grunt. The two of them had gone through a checklist for the ceremony. Not too long had passed and Niki had come back with you. Her handiwork on your clothes and your hair was immaculate, Techno stood there in place stunned, as his eyes scanned over you. He felt his legs step toward you before he could stop himself.

 He made his way to you, taking your hands in his, his lips parting, but he couldn’t find the right words. Not that he had time to. A rustling in the bushes behind you had caught his attention, and he quickly pulled you behind him, only to be bombarded with a fox shrieking the word ‘party!’ Techno summoned forth his sword and pointed it toward the fox in the bush.

 “Uhh,” Fundy nervously looked around his eyes landing on Niki. He put his hands up. “I’m Niki’s plus one?” Fundy gave a tiny shrug, his face emanating uneasiness. Techno sighed feeling you tug on his arm, he put his sword away and relaxed. You pulled him to you and giggled, as Niki pulled him away into the rest of the crowd shushing him along the way.

 “Now that my grandson is here, late, might I add.” Phil emphasized the word late in Fundy’s direction, which made the fox hybrid shrink back. “How about we get started?” His gaze shifted back to you and Techno. Taking Techno’s arm, the both of you made your way to Phil, as everyone took their seats.

 “Now…” Phil started, glancing down at a book as he spoke, “We are here to witness the bonding of these two, a Piglin and a human together.” Phil motioned to the both of you. “I will give them a moment to say anything that they would like to each other.” You felt your stomach flip. You hadn’t had time to prepare vows.  Phil must have seen the look on your face. “This is piglin tradition to speak from the heart rather than a piece of paper, and silence is valid… the bond is enough to speak of your love.” Techno was the first to begin.

 “Darlin’, I would follow you to the ends of the earth,” His hand cupped your cheek, “I will fight for you until my dying breath. I’ve always thought that, since the moment I knew I was in love with you. All I want in this life is to grow old with you... You are my world, and I wouldn’t change that for anything,” his hand falls to yours and he squeezes your hand in an encouraging way. You take a few seconds to think over your next words.

 “Techno,” you gulped, feeling the weight of everyone staring at you. “I want to give you things you never knew you wanted in this life. I want to have adventures with you, find rare items with you. You are everything to me, my love, my best friend and more and I can’t wait to see what kind of life we will live together.” You breathe out a sigh, “I love you now, forever and always.” Phil read through the book for a few seconds.

 “Now we will proceed with the ritual.” Phil turns around bringing forth a potted tree. “Where the both of you stand, you will plant this tree, as a reminder of where you stood on this day.” Phil hands Techno a netherite shovel, and he hands you the tree. “The two of you will bring a better life to this tree, allowing it to grow, instead of keeping it in its confines. You two will grow out of your own confines, as you two develop more of a relationship throughout your lives...” Phil’s eyes scan through more of the book. “The trunk will represent your relationship, while the roots, signifies your love and attachment to each other.” Techno dug the hole, and you plant the strange looking tree. This was one of the blue trees from the nether.

 When the two of you stand up with the tree between you two. You both look over to Phil.

 “When the two of you bare a child,” Phil’s eyebrows furrowed, he was having a hard time translating. “You may come back to this spot and use… crushed up bones to further the tree’s growth, to signify your lives, becoming more whole.” Phil turned the page. “If no child has been born, then the tree will age with you and become whole as you do, nevertheless.” Phil took a second to breathe.

 “Now, that the tree has been planted, a blood offering must be made to the tree. Just a drop will do, and you must draw out techno’s blood, and he must draw your blood out.” Phil closed the book. His eyes scanning over the two of you. A health potion at the ready for the both of you.

 You held your hand out for Techno to take and when he does his lips graze over your knuckles. Taking a small dagger, he initials a small T in the palm of your hand. Phil immediately douses your wound in the potion after your blood hits the blue leaves of the tree. You do the same to Techno’s hand, the scars of his initial forever on your hand, and your initial on his.

 “You may now kiss.” Phil clasps his hands together, and you feel your body move around the tree to get to him. You kiss him fervently as you could hear the cheers from your audience, but all that mattered to you was Techno. His arms holding you to him, he breaks your kiss to lean his forehead against yours. His eyes were closed as he basked in this moment with you.

 The rest of the night was filled with laughter, smiles, good food, and dancing. But one image burned into Techno’s mind, and he, at first, didn’t know how to feel about it.

 You sat down at a table with Fundy and Niki, the over-head lantern casting a warm glow on the three of you. A half full wine glass was tipped at your lips as you giggled at something that Fundy was saying to you. Techno had been talking with Phil at his own table, taking a momentary break from all the festivities of the night.

 A small squeal could be heard as Tubbo was chasing around the tiny zombie piglin. The observers watched with amused expressions, and even laughed when the piglin tried to hide from Tubbo in plain sight. Techno sighed to himself, to become a zombie that young didn’t mean good things. His own thoughts started plaguing him. He started to withdraw back into his thoughts.

 “You alright mate?” Phil noticed Techno’s eyes linger on Michael. Techno gave a slight nod, grunting in response. The child ran around, and he eventually made his way to you. His arms raising toward you, as he squealed.

 “Aww, he wants up.” Ranboo took on a fatherly tone. You felt your lips upturn at Michael. His eye trained on you and it felt weird to have a zombie piglin actually interact with you instead of ignoring you. When Ranboo gave you permission, you picked up Michael and set him on your lap. You could hear a happy little oink emitting from him and you caught Techno’s eye.

 He had been watching the entire encounter, he leaned on the table with his chin resting on his hand. It was something else seeing you interact with one of his kind, specifically a child. He knew you would be a good parent, but to actually see you play with and hold a piglin child… Even if it were a zombie… It took him off guard. Heat rose to his cheeks when you connected eyes with him, and he gave a small wave to you. He just watched you care for Michael as his parents fawned over the encounter.

 Micheal tried reaching for your wine glass, and Tubbo and Ranboo scurried over and chided Michael, telling him that that wasn’t juice… Which made Michael want whatever was in the wineglass even more. Ranboo grabbed him from your lap and apologized profusely before taking Michael away to talk to him properly. Techno didn’t miss the smile you gave the child when he looked back toward you, not wanting to leave your lap.

 When Michael had come back, he made his way toward Techno. But Tubbo was quick to stop him. His disdain for orphans was something everyone knew, but Techno had his reasons, and he knew this was why the two parents ushered Michael away from him.

 “I think the little one is curious about you two.” Phil chuckled motioning toward Michael. “It must be weird seeing a half piglin, let alone one out in the overworld.” Techno nodded his eyes trained on you as you made your way over to him. You sat on his leg and leaned into him. You looked tired and tipsy from the alcohol.

 “What are you two talking about over here?” You asked slightly slurring.

 “Oh I was just asking Techno when you two were going to have a kid.” Phil laughed and Techno felt his eyes widen at Phil. Heat rose up to both yours and Techno’s faces and you stuttered on your own words.

 “Not for a while if we do have any.” You gave an awkward laugh. Techno grunted in agreement, his eyes staring daggers into Phil, which caused him to laugh harder.

 The night went on, you had helped Techno socialize with the others and when the end of the night rolled around you and Techno headed home. When the click of his front door was heard he kissed you, backing you up into the wall, his hand rested just next to your head. His eyes flooded black once more, as he broke your kiss and whispered in your ear.

 “How does it feel to be mine?” He growled in your ear. You felt tiny shivers run down your body. He didn’t wait for an answer, he just grabbed you and slung you over his shoulder reveling in your surprised squeal, carrying you up to your shared bedroom.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #c!techno #fluff #Gold and Emeralds #mcyt x reader

[skellebonez]

I really like the way you write Mei and Macaque's interaction! Is it okey if I ask you to write something with those two from Winterpower's swap au and the prompts 17 and 30? Thank you!

I think this is my first time writing the actual proper Swap AU from Winter? This feels like a good time to post this since @winterpower98 has posted some pretty great stuff for it in the last few days too! This is probably not what you expected since I used this scene as inspiration due to the prompts, but it’s also a bit different so it isn’t just that scene written in fic form. (and now I think the only aus I haven't written for are Stone Monkey and Actor. HUH.)

I can’t do this even though everyone says I can./I already tried talking to them! They won’t listen!

Macaque wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected after the fight with the newly released Sun Wukong, and his discussion with Mei about just how dangerous that was and how proud he was of her for being alright after hadn’t been one he’d planned out in advance. But he had hoped that things would have gone smoother than this.

He had hoped that after he promised her that she would never have to fight the Monkey King herself again... that... well...

“I can’t do this!” Mei had snapped as he tried to explain, anger and betrayal clear on her face to anyone who could see it. “Even though everyone thinks I can, I can’t! You lied to me!”

He hadn’t wanted to lie. Truly he hadn’t. He just... he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Mei, please, I-”

“You promised me I wouldn’t have to fight him ever again!” She snapped again, turning away from her mentor and clutching her pigtails in frustration. “I trusted you! And you lied to me!”

Macaque could hear the tears starting from her voice and how it hitched, his ears hanging low and feeling something sink in his chest even lower. “Mei, I didn’t lie to you... I...”

“I quit.”

The words hit Macaque like a train, causing him to pause and look at Mei as she turned to him and pulled out her spear and plunged it into the ground, repeating that affirmation one last time before turning and leaving him behind.

On the wind he almost heard an angry “if I have to do it again I’ll do it my way”.

He chose to believe he had misheard.

----------

It was later. Much later, after... after the second time.

Mei was back, along with MK in tow after her little rescue mission with Red. Macaque wasn’t happy about that, if things had gone just a little worse just a little lopsided... he might not have a student left to reprimand.

But he did and as upset as he was for her reckless behavior he was happy she was home and safe and alive.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said after they sat in silence for a while, eating buns that he had back on Flower Fruit Mountain, and he waited for Mei to react before continuing. “For promising you that you wouldn’t face Wukong again. I wasn’t trying to lie, but it lead to it becoming one. And I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said after a while, washing down a bite of food with water. “I can tell... I’m sorry for running off the way I did.”

“I can tell that too,” Macaque said with the smallest smile he could manage, sighing as he watched the horizon line. “I’ve been meaning to ask... about your parents.”

“I already tried talking to them!” Mei groaned out, shaking her head and shoving the rest of her bun in her mouth angrily. “They won’t listen!”

“I feared as much,” Macaque said with another sigh, ears falling back once again as he gently placed one hand on his student’s shoulder. “Listen... I won’t promise you anything this time. But you have my word that I will try to listen to you better myself... and I will do my best to keep you out of our plans. No promises, but I will try. Alright?”

Mei was quiet for a moment, chewing the last of her bun before swallowing it and nodding. “I’ll try too. With... a lot of stuff. We can try together.”

“I think that will work just fine.”

#i don't have quite the grasp on these two as I do their cursed au counterparts #but I did my best! #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #swap au #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #prompt fill #gen fic

[riseatlantisss]

Fighter

Anon Request : “Heyy !! If you’re still doing this, I’d love a Witcher one-shot where he trains the reader to sword fight ! The reader feels outmatched and Geralt is harsh but patient. Could u also make it a little flirty/fluffy ??? Thanks <3”

So sorry to be so late on this but I hope you like it !! Request are still open :)

You never understood why Geralt chose to train you to fight. You are not a Witcher nor any other ones of those fantastic great beings one can find on the Continent. The reason, however, turns out to be quite simple….

1,4K words - Geralt of Rivia x gender neutral!reader

Low key inspired by this quote.

English is not my first language, please excuse the mistakes.

Your back ached from the hard blow you just received. Actually, your whole body ached. Yep, sword practice with a witcher will do that to you, you thought as you struggled to get back on your feet. The sun was beating down on you. You wanted to give up and tell Geralt you reached your end. But you knew it would not make a difference. Geralt was many things. Indulgent was not was of them.

“Let this be a lesson,” Geralt announced with authority, “never turn your back on an enemy.” You turned over to see him towering you. He pulled you up on your feet with ease.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I did not realize how hard I struck you.” His apology was sincere.  You rubbed your back but refused to let him know it actually hurt. Instead, you just nodded and smiled. I can do this.  

“Good.” Geralt responded. “Pick up your sword. Let’s do that again.” He walked away and halted at a distance of ten paces. He drew his sword and pointed it right at you, ready for another round.

“Now remember. You must keep your stance composed at all times. Without balance you might as well be unarmed.” He explained, waiting for you to step into position.  

You clumsily picked up your wooden sword, pointing it towards the Witcher with a novice-like apprehension. You did your best to stay focused despite the pain and tried to anticipate your opponent’s next moves. You never were good with weapons, swords, all that stuff. Your greatest chance not to bite the dust a second time was to use your brain. And you did that quite well, incidentally.

“Now, try and block my swings.” Geralt ordered.

You remained silent, trying to analyse his posture, the direction of his feet, the breeze of the wind, anything that could give you a hint on what was going to happen next, really. He’s going to run towards me in a few seconds, but he will jump on the left at the last moment, not on the right like last time, you thought, adjusting the orientation of your sword slightly to the left in preparation.

Before you could continue your thinking any further, Geralt moved towards you, jumped to the left - as you anticipated - and brought his sword to your side with force and control. Somehow, you managed to knock the blow back with a shaking hand.

“Good!” Geralt said, encouragingly. “Now, let’s see if you can hit me.” You could hear the mocking invitation in his tone. Fearing the imminent humiliation of trying (and failing) to defeat a Witcher and experimented warrior, you tried to talk your way out of this situation.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” You asked, “I mean, me, a human who can barely hold a sword up, against a Witcher? You could kill me anytime you want just by casting a spell on me, may I remind you.”

“You’re not outmatched because of my abilities, Y/N.” Geralt said, as if it that would make you feel better. “The only way for you to improve is to train. Out in the wild, a beast or a foe won’t give you this opportunity.”

“So be it.” You responded sarcastically, “Let the beast slay me. That’s one way of getting some rest.”

Geralt chuckled. However, he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easy. “Come on Y/N, stop joking around and show me what you got.”

You gripped the sword with both hands and raised it above you head. You threw yourself towards your instructor as you brought the weapon down with all your might. You did not even see the Witcher step out of the way. The wooden blade of your sword finished its course on the ground, making you lose your balance along the way. Out of breath, you fell down to one knee, feeling the fatigue of this training session surface all at once and take over your body.

“Nice try,” Geralt said above you, reaching out to help you up, once again. “But too bold. You must keep your strikes disciplined. You hand me an opportunity to strike back on a platter. An enemy would not have hesitated.” He walked away a few meters, turned over and faced you. “Again.” He simply said, indifferent to your obvious discouragement and exhaustion.

“It’s no use,” you mumbled, still trying to catch your breath. You sat on the ground and put your head in your hands. You weren’t even able to look at him, too afraid to see disappointment in his eyes. “We both know I shouldn’t be here.” You continued, “I’m not a Witcher. I am not a sorceress. I’ll never be a warrior. I’m nothing…” Tears started to roll down your cheeks, but you refused to let him know you were crying. You felt embarrassed enough as it was. Long seconds passed. At one point, you even thought that he had left but when you finally found the courage to look up, there he was, sitting beside you. He just stayed there for a few seconds, quietly looking at the horizon. Expressionless. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. Was he staying out of pity? To tell you he was disappointed? You weren’t even sure you wanted to find out.

“You know,” Geralt finally said after a long silence, “in my life, and as a Witcher, I run into dilemmas. All the time. Situations where it’s hard to judge, hard to know what’s right, make a decision.” His voice was different now. He had this reassuring and calm tone you so rarely heard from him. No sign of hardness or authority anymore. “When I met you, there was no dilemma. I knew right away that you deserved to have a chance and to show the Continent what you were capable of.” You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by his words. “You think I am training you to make you a soldier?” he asked.

“Why else could you waste your time with me?” You responded, still avoiding his gaze.

Geralt shook his head. “I train you because I want you to be able to defend yourself. Life on the Continent is tough. I want you to become as fierce as the enemies you are bound to make.” He paused to look at you and lifted your chin up with a gentle hand. Your eyes were still glowing with tears, but at this point, you didn’t care if he noticed. “The real truth was that I could not stand to lose you, Y/N.” He was still looking at you as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. You were speechless. All this time you thought he trained you to fight to hand you over or even sell you to the Royal Guard or to some rich Lord. You thought he couldn’t wait for you to become somebody else’s problem. He always seemed to be so severe. So serious. But it turned out he cared? About you? You couldn’t believe it. You were wrong on so many levels. You opened your mouth to protest but he didn’t give you the time.

“You fear I will judge you? I won’t.” He said, helping you up a third time. You could hear that familiar harshness in his voice coming back. But this time, it did not scare you. It gave you new strength. “You think you are not strong enough? You are. You have all the weapons you need, Y/N. Now, fight.”

You weren’t crying anymore or avoiding the Witcher’s gaze. You were looking straight into his eyes, feeling an emotion you thought you would never feel again: determination. His words resonated in your mind. He cared for you. More than that: he believed in you. That was all the motivation you needed right now. You have all the weapons you need. You thought as you drew your wooden sword, pointing it up to your instructor, ready to strike. Now fight.

#the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #henry cavill #the witcher netflix #the witcher x you #the witcher x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher x y/n #geralt x you #geralt imagine #the witcher fandom #the witcher fluff #geralt of rivia fluff #the witcher smut #fanfictions #Jaskier #the witcher one shot #request open #the witcher ship #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #gender neutral fanfic #the witcher x gender neutral reader #The Witcher Netflix #The Witcher #Witcher #witcher x reader

[forasecondtherewedwon]

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 2

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 2/2

Read chapter one on Tumblr.

Chapter two summary: Sam and Bucky talk after their date op in Germany.

“Four,” Bucky says.

Sam, plodding down the road beside him, turns to stare. His sidekick (and fuck him if Bucky’s thinking of Sam in the same terms) has his chin lifted, moving his gaze back and forth across the horizon in a slow sweep. With the lines of trees planted as windbreaks around the fields, they can’t see the highway from here. It could be nice, without the rushing noise of cars and trucks, if Bucky knew how to shut up. That sorta pout his mouth does when his face is in its sour resting position—that’s what Sam wants to see. Only because it means Bucky wouldn’t be talking and Sam could maybe find a few minutes of peace, some quiet in which to consider the Flag-Smashers they just fought.

“Four what?” he demands when Bucky doesn’t continue.

Can’t be hostiles. If Bucky had spotted anybody, he wouldn’t still be striding along, looking unconcerned. No, he’d be running flat-out towards their adversaries like the rash moron he’s always accusing Steve of having been. Trying to leave Sam in the dust until Sam kicked off and spread his wings.

“Four stars,” Bucky says, carefully, clearly, like that clears anything up.

“What are you doing? Rating our trip down the highway? That was a transport truck full of medicine and super-soldiers, not an Uber.”

Sam’s grinning to himself when Bucky turns his head to glare. Ah. So gratifying. Amends sound good in theory, but Bucky’s irritation is so much simpler in practice. Sam knows how to handle that. He’ll take the grouchy stewing post-mission over having to meet Bucky’s eyes across a table, the promised snapper dinner laid out in front of them. They haven’t gotten around to that yet.

“I’m not rating the ride,” Bucky says, “I’m rating our date.”

That trips Sam up, but just for a second.

“No, no, no, dates don’t end with me rescuing you from the underside of a truck.”

“You didn’t rescue me.”

“Man, those wheels would’ve turned you into ground beef,” Sam says with a snort.

“I doubt it. Fell two hundred feet without a parachute today and I’m fine.”

“You want a second opinion on that?”

Instead of watching Bucky’s scowl deepen at the joke, Sam sees his expression flatten out. It makes Sam narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“What?” he prompts.

“You’re wrong,” Bucky states plainly.

“About what those wheels would do to you? We can test it when we’re back stateside if you want. I’ll requisition a truck.”

“Not about that.”

Sam’s looking closely, so he spots the smile. A curl at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. He hopes, secretly, that Bucky is scanning the surroundings well enough for both of them, because Sam’s attention is homed in on this little sign of Bucky’s amusement.

“About the end of the date,” Bucky finally clarifies.

“Mission. The end of the mission, when I rescued you.”

“The end of the date, when I was on top of you.”

Something to throw with all his strength, that’s what Sam needs right now. Some physical outlet for how badly he wants to fling the creeping, seeking, aching things he’s feeling very far away from himself. He wonders if Steve ever just whipped the shield as hard as he could to vent his frustrations. It’s hot as hell out here under the sun and Sam can feel the dampness of his chest inside his suit, the sweat riding his spine.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, fine with the scent of manure and getting nothing but grass instead. Like inhaling the colour green. Smells like the field they landed in. Landed in and went barreling across until, yeah, Sam wound up on his back with Bucky above him, their arms fastened around each other like life preservers or umbilical cords or anything else tight and necessary for keeping people alive. Goddamn nose-to-nose. Over the phone, Sam could brush Bucky off. When he says this shit in person, Sam has nowhere to go, besides extending the wings and launching himself into the sky. But he doesn’t want to overreact (doesn’t want Bucky to see him overreact).

“You just calling it a date because you don’t have rules for those?” Sam asks, deflecting.

“My three rules, you mean?” Bucky asks. He loses the smile.

“Right.”

“They’re for… everything. Supposed to be a blanket rollout, not doing anything illegal or that’ll hurt anybody in any aspect of my life. I’m sure the rules go for dating too, though Dr. Raynor and I didn’t really talk about those specific circumstances.”

“I think you might’ve mostly stuck to those rules today. I don’t think we hurt those guys.”

“Maybe you didn’t—”

“Get over yourself.”

“You’re a rude date,” Bucky notes. He’s looking straight ahead. No, not looking, staring. Like he does.

“I didn’t even invite you,” Sam says, refusing to correct this bonehead again about what kind of outing this was. “You walked onto that plane.”

“You wanted me to come.”

“Didn’t need you.”

“Oh really?” Bucky challenges. Sam clenches his jaw as he avoids meeting Bucky’s gaze.

“Hey, I was still in the air while you were clinging to that truck like a toddler to their dad’s leg.”

“You were in the air, but for how long?” Bucky asks, halting and grabbing Sam’s arm. Sam shakes him off in annoyance but stops too. “Until the Flag-Smashers knocked you out or broke your wings like they broke Redwing. They were mopping the floor with you.”

“And it was so damn useful to have you there to be the other mop,” Sam says sarcastically.

“If you’d put me back on the truck instead of in the field, we mighta had a shot at them.”

Bucky’s hands go to his hips, his Vibranium arm gleaming in the sun. He’s going to have to say more about that White Wolf thing. Wondering where the hell Bucky’s sleeve went and refusing to ask, Sam crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“We had no shot. Not today, not without more information.”

“Information takes too long.”

“That’s what a successful op is,” Sam stresses, chopping the side of one hand into his opposite palm. “Intelligence gathering, corroboration, planning, execution. Information is what tells you to hang back instead of throwing yourself into a fight you’re not prepared enough to win.”

“We were already here. We couldn’t just let them leave.”

“Don’t worry about the hypotheticals now; them leaving is exactly what happened.”

“Unless Captain America has ’em on the ropes,” Bucky says deadpan.

“I hope they pushed him off the back of one of those trucks.”

“Were you thinking about that while we were up there with him?”

“At the time, I was thinking about pushing you off the back of the truck for getting us into that situation,” Sam explains, “that’s why I can picture it so clearly. See, Buck? I always have a plan.”

“Just like Steve.”

“No, not just like Steve.”

Sam pushes past Bucky to start walking again. After a couple steps, Bucky’s back at his side.

“You think the new guy had a plan?” he asks. “I don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Sure you do.”

“Are you trying to get me to talk now? Mr. ‘I’m not a words guy’? Fine,” Sam huffs, tired from everything inside him that’s pushing to get out rather than their leisurely walk down a country road. Even so, he walks faster, almost stomping, and Bucky has to lope up next to him to stay in step. “I don’t think he had a plan. I don’t think he could fasten that dumb helmet on his head without a direct order. I don’t think he and his partner found us on their own initiative.”

“They work pretty smoothly as a team though,” Bucky tosses out.

“That looked like familiarity, not the result of inspiring leadership on the part of the Captain.”

“And not as good as us.”

Sam sends Bucky poisonous side-eye.

“I’m not trying to lead you.”

“I don’t wanna be led,” Bucky replies. “We fight together better than they do and that’s with you pretending you hate me.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend.” The comment is habit.

“All I’m saying is that it’s better. The two of us being out here doing this stuff together.”

“Especially with that dick waiting in the wings.”

Bucky stares at him long enough that Sam turns his head to stare back. When he does, Bucky glances away, but Sam knows where he was looking—at his back, where his wings are folded away.

“Waiting in the wings is a figure of speech,” he tells Bucky angrily.

“It’s perfect though. I always think of you as that dick in the wings.”

Sam exhales hard through his nose.

“I hope you don’t always think of me as anything.”

“I do. I always think of you.”

Freefall doesn’t jar Sam, no more than what he can remember it feeling like when he was a little kid and his dad would toss him into the air before catching him again. But what Bucky says changes the physics of his insides, the gravity all wrong with his organs. Heart plummeting then trying to sail straight up his throat like a balloon somebody just let go of.

Then Bucky adds, “You and that shield.”

“Drop it.”

He could just fly to the airport, leave Bucky here with plenty of time to think his stupid, shield-related thoughts. Maybe this smartass would have all the answers by the time he reached the plane, or Munich, if they went wheels-up without him. The truth is that the shield—and the Captain America persona—are on Sam’s mind just as much as they’re on Bucky’s, only he manages to keep those thoughts locked up tight. He has to make sure that shit’s contained, particularly if the new poster boy’s going to turn up like this. Sam doesn’t need that in his face.

As they walk, he glances at Bucky, who’s probably as aware of it as Sam is when Bucky gives him that stare. Blue as the sky overhead and heavy as a boulder. The realization that, although he didn’t mean to lead, Bucky followed him here, and continues to stick with him, is staggering. The pages of his mental photo album flip and he sees Steve crack a grin. It’s not like that, Sam tells that blond do-gooder, young in his memories. The only blond do-gooder who ever has or ever will look right with his arm threaded through the straps of the shield.

Maybe, maybe, this thing could work. Him and Bucky running ops, doing better at not getting their asses kicked in front of the government’s hand-picked hero. But Bucky’s gotta let that shit go. Since the Blip, Sam’s been trying to fly under the radar and that’s what he wants to continue doing. He doesn’t need to be showy, just effective; he doesn’t want to get dragged into some Cap vs. Cap contest, the inheritor against the upstart. If Bucky would take the time to think and listen, they could figure this out and be good. And do good. Understanding each other the way Sam wanted when he called Bucky up and they talked about Tunisia and rules and fish dinners. Bucky could make his jokes and, the next time, Sam could call his bluff. Show that gruff, rusty motherfucker what a real date looks like. What kind of team could they be? All kinds.

“Are we even going the right way?” Bucky asks after a half-hour of silence.

“Yes,” Sam says firmly.

He actually hasn’t checked. After they untangled themselves in that field, he just started walking, too keyed up to establish their position. He wonders if the grass still shows their path, crushed where they rolled to a stop.

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

“Got any thoughts you wanna share?” Bucky asks. Sam frowns and steals a glance at him. “What? I told you I’ve been going to therapy. I know the importance of a healthy dialogue.”

Sam tries to force his mouth to keep curving down, but he really wants to smile. Bucky’s not the worst company and he is obviously capable of growth.

“A question,” he says.

“If it’s sarcastic, I’m not—”

“Four outta what?”

“What?”

“You said four stars,” Sam reminds him. “Is that four outta five or four outta ten?”

Bucky’s smile spreads slowly, smugly, and Sam rolls his eyes hard. He’s no more aggravated by Bucky than he is by his own need to know. ‘Four stars’ was an incomplete assessment! Typical.

“I hate you,” he says.

Still smiling away, Bucky sways into Sam as he walks, their arms brushing. Could be an accident.

But probably not.

#my writing #story update #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

[peggyrose19]

Where I Find You

So uh, I got bored. And to distract myself from the torture my stomach has decided to put me through (again), I figured I should work on finishing this. And I did! It’s an idea I got from an ask @heyitssmiller received months ago about the cubs’ park. This took me literal ages to finish, but oh well. It’s done now :) They have an argument and Logan runs out, leaving Finn and Leo worried and upset. Yes, it’s angsty but there’s some fluff and comfort in there too. Characters belong to the always amazing @lumosinlove. I am so not ready for this wonderful story to be over but I’m also really excited for it? I don’t know if I’m gonna make it through the last chapter honestly. We’re getting off track. Anyway. Hope you guys enjoy. You know the drill, leave a comment and I’ll love you forever <3

Logan stormed out of the apartment, swallowing back tears. His heart was pounding, mind running in circles. The wind whipped at his cheeks but he barely noticed. Subconsciously, his footsteps took him to the park. 

It was nearby, Logan knew the route by heart. Knew it from the regular early-morning runs with the sun peeking over the trees. From countless weekends spent lounging in the grass, food and wine spread between them, Finn and Leo reading aloud, Logan himself braiding Finn’s hair the way his sisters had taught him all those years ago. From the team parties held for each birthday and anniversary and victory, filled with string lights and music, with laughter and dancing and family. 

Over the last few months the space had become theirs, a place Logan felt safe and at home, something he hadn’t felt since high school. It was a place for family and love, where he and Leo and Finn could be together and happy and open. 

His tears had escaped by the time Logan reached the familiar circle of trees they always gathered in. Great heaving sobs overtook his body and he collapsed to the ground, leaning against the trunk of a tree. 

He’d yelled at them. His boys, who he loved more than life itself, who had done everything for him, for whom he’d shatter the earth for. He had yelled, about something so stupid it barely even constituted an argument. It had started out simple. Just a little jab about Logan’s shoes on the floor. Leo had tripped over them, nearly falling on his face. 

“Merde, Lo. Do you have to leave your stuff all over the floor?” Leo had asked, glancing at him as he rubbed at his ankle. 

Usually, it wouldn’t have bothered him. They had both chirped him for it before and it had rolled easily off his back. He knew he was messy, but it had never seemed to really bother them. Leo had given him a few exasperated looks anytime he left his dishes in the sink, and Finn had lived with him long enough that he was used to it. 

But that day, Logan was hungry and tired and sore, and he snapped. 

He hadn’t meant to snap. And he certainly hadn’t meant all he had said. All that mattered was that his Peanut was okay. But in that moment, that had seemed to slip his mind. 

Before he knew it all three were screaming at each other insensible nonsense. And he’d had enough. 

Logan had been out the door before he’d even really processed what he was doing. 

And now he was in the park, turning in circles, helpless, tears streaming down his face.  

“Where would he go?” Leo asked Finn worriedly. 

Logan wasn’t answering his phone. It had been 30 minutes since he’d stormed out and they hadn’t heard a thing. They soon found out it was because he didn’t even have it with him; it still sat on the kitchen counter where he’d dropped it only hours earlier. Finn and Leo were worried, their nerves growing as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. Neither was mad anymore. 

“Let’s try the park,” Finn suggested. “You know what Lo is like, he likes to feel safe. C’mon.” Leo nodded mutely and followed Finn to the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

“Wait, we should bring him a jacket,” Finn said, and grabbed Logan’s coat as well as his. “He was only wearing a shirt, he must be freezing now.” Despite it all, Leo smiled a little, heart warming at Finn’s thoughtfulness. 

They walked in silence, both lost in their thoughts. 

Leo hadn’t meant to make Logan so mad. But his ankle was still a bit sore, and he really did wish he didn’t leave his stuff everywhere. It was dangerous. He didn’t mind it, really, but things could be a hazard, and he wished Logan understood that a bit better. Perhaps he could have explained it to him a bit better, too.

Finn didn’t understand what the big deal was. He had lived with Logan for three years, had gotten used to navigating the messy floor of their dorm room. But then Leo had tripped and Logan had snapped and suddenly they were yelling at each other and he was in the middle of it and he didn’t understand what was going on. He wished they were all better at talking. Maybe they needed to work on that. 

The two of them reached the park quickly, heading automatically to their favorite spot. At the edge of the clearing though, they paused. Logan sat against a tree on the opposite side, head in his hands. 

“What are we gonna say to him?” Leo asked quietly. “He was so mad at us.”

Finn grabbed his hand. “It’s alright, Nut. I don’t think he was really all that mad at us.”

They walked over to where Logan was curled around himself.

“Lo?” He looked up sharply. When he saw the two of them, he let out a harsh sob, burying his face in his hands once again. 

“Logan?” Leo crouched by him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder and rubbing soft circles there. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Logan didn’t say anything, just sobbed again and leaned into Leo. Finn sat on his other side, putting an arm around him, and glancing at Leo worriedly. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out finally, lifting his head just a bit. “For yelling at you. And running out.”

“We’re not mad at you, love, it’s okay,” Finn said reassuringly. 

“We could never stay mad at you for long,” Leo added. 

“Still, I’m sorry-” he wiped his face messily- “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Leo sighed, “I know, baby. It’s okay. And I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure? Your ankle-”

“My ankle is fine,” Leo cut him off gently. “We’re more worried about you.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” 

Leo and Finn glanced at each other again. Leo shrugged. “We just knew.” 

“Here.” Finn draped the coat he’d grabbed across Logan’s shoulders. “You’re shivering.”

“No, you’ll get cold,” he protested weakly, even as he pulled it around himself.

Finn shook his head. “No, I won’t. I brought this one for you.” 

This brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes and he curled into Finn’s side, sobbing into his shirt. 

“You’re always so good to me,” he sobbed. “Even when I’m not to you.”

“Because we love you.” Logan just shook his head, crying too hard to speak. 

“Oh, love,” Leo sighed, and pressed a soft kiss to Logan’s temple. The three of them stayed curled together as the sun sank below the horizon, cloaking the area in darkness. Logan cried into Finn’s shoulder, wishing he had the words to voice all he was feeling in that moment. 

The relief and guilt that they weren’t mad; the love and safety his boys always brought. He wished he could tell them. 

But he knew it would all come out wrong and so he stayed silent, clutching at Finn’s shirt and thanking the whole universe for giving him these boys. 

“I love you guys,” he choked out finally. “So, so much.” It was all he could manage. 

But Leo and Finn seemed to understand, seemed to hear the depth behind it, and just held him closer. 

Leo gave him another soft kiss on the forehead and grabbed his hand, saying softly, “Let’s go home.” 

#lumosinlove #coast to coast #cubs #o'knutzy #minor angst #comfort #park ask #oh look another song as the title #we're shocked

[txtdiaries]

Void - Chapter Three

SUMMARY | Amidst your world shattering to pieces, the boy you met long ago manages to fit everything back together again. Also - zombies. Lots and lots of zombies.

PAIRING | Yeonjun X Reader feat. TXT

CATEGORY | apocalypse au, end of the world, survival, angst, romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

WARNINGS | dark content, swearing, gore, weapon possession, etc.

A/N | So this hasn’t been proofread, but I hope there aren’t too many mistakes and u guys enjoy it anyway. Thanku for reading! <3 

SONG REC | Wires - The Neighbourhood

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

The sun is dipping behind the horizon, colors melting against sky as the car rolls along the freeway. The majority of the younger boys are asleep in the car, it is silent, and Yeonjun is stressed out.

Of course, who wouldn’t be? He almost lost his life to something that looked like it walked straight off the set of The Walking Dead. And Yeonjun has never forgotten his weapon - ever. It’s in that moment that he knows.

He has to get rid of the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Soon.

The silence is uncomfortable as he drives. Neither is speaking, and even though he isn’t looking at her, he knows she isn’t asleep.

After a few minutes of the silence ticking along with the minutes, Yeonjun feels like he is going to burst. And then, finally, she speaks.

“Listen… uh- Yanjun-”

“My name is Yeonjun.” The older boy sneers, accent thickening as he enunciates his Korean name, still annoyed. He realizes just how annoyed he always is with her.

“Right, sorry! Yeonjun.” He stays quiet, letting her go on.

“I’m really sorry for what happened back there. I may have overreacted a little bit.”

Yeonjun scoffs as she continues, “And I just want to thank you for saving my life. I really appreciate it.”

The girl sticks her hand out as if he’s not driving, and after he gives it a side glance, she retracks it.

“Maybe we can be friends, you know, work together?”

Yeonjun almost swerves off the freeway at 90 MPH.

“Here’s how this is gonna work...” He searches her eyes for a second, noticing how she sits up straighter. She replies quickly with a, “Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N, this isn’t some fucked up stockholm syndrome situation. I didn’t tie you up and throw you in the back of my Jeep because I thought you were too precious to save, and I definitely didn’t do it because I wanted you with us. I did it because it was the only option, got it?”

The girl blinks at him.

“It was the only option, and at this point you’re just deadweight to us now, okay? We aren’t going to work together, and we sure as hell aren’t going to be friends.”

It’s silent for a lot longer this time, before Yeonjun hears the girl reply back in a whisper, “If I’m just deadweight to you, why did you save me?”

“Jun, where are we?” Soobin grumbles suddenly from the backseat, stirring a bit as he starts to wake up.

“Just about there, Soobin. Go back to sleep.” Yeonjun replies as he pulls off of I-86 and into what seems like the local college town of the area. He decides to ignore the girl’s question as he turns on the radio. Of course, it’s just the low sound of static, but it’s better than listening to her questions again.

The farther Yeonjun drives into the town, the more he starts to notice the tattered college flags hanging from the unlit street lamps, and all of the broken windows in every building they pass. As he drives with caution, Yeonjun can tell how eerily quiet it is, apart from the radio. He spots the girl looking out the window, and decides to do the same, allowing himself to survey their surroundings.

A few home style diners and restaurants dot the blocks they pass, along with small gas stations (probably empty), and a few fast food places as well. The road guides him to a gentle curve, and then he realizes that he’s going in the direction of an underpass. For some insane reason he doesn’t completely understand, the lights along the inside leading to the other side are on, and they guide him to something that is shocking for him to see. The underpass opens back up at the end in a way Yeonjun can only feel like exiting a time machine would be. The tunnel cuts off, barren and with the walking path fences on either side rusted and destroyed.

But that’s not the part Yeonjun is paying attention to.

The buildings are breathtaking. They are old stone, brick, and clearly had been worked on to keep their vintage roots. One of the buildings on the right has huge archway windows on the second floor, which the moon reflects off beautifully. The street lamps are winded with decorative mistletoe, but the ribbons attached are tattered and almost black. Yeonjun sees what used to be bars, restaurants, all different colors. Green, red, and a pretty maroon color. He’s almost sad to see all of this - to get a glimpse of the real world back in front of him.

The farther he drives, the worse it gets. The town is beautiful, and he can only imagine how beautiful it used to be in the world before.

“This is old town.” The girl says softly from the passenger seat as Yeonjun approaches a huge park, even more trees on display and decorative lamps. He almost thinks he sees a fountain before he looks back at the girl.

“What did you say?”

“Old town. Like, downtown. The original one for the city.”

“How…” Yeonjun is surprised the girl knows as his curiosity intensifies.

“I uh… I used to live here. I went to college here.” She clarifies, avoiding his gaze now.

The older boy is even more surprised than he was before. She looked old enough to be in college, but he didn’t even consider it. Someone else having a life before all of this, much like he did. He never considered it until now.

“Up ahead it’ll take you to the fairly decent houses, lots of cops and bankers used to live on this side of town, but the houses will be trashed most likely. The long road past that will take you up the mountain to the super rich houses on top. Those might have some food and supplies, but it’s more dangerous. The high school is to the right, but the college is back around the way we came. Up to you.” She nods, not speaking anymore. Yeonjun is surprised she’s even helping him, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Thank you.” He says awkwardly, turning back around the way they came. He figures the college is their best bet. More buildings to search for safety in, and all relatively close to the gas stations.

She says nothing as he makes his way back toward the college.

The drive to the campus is somehow more tense than before, and Yeonjun is grateful when they finally pull into the main parking lot, in front of a building labeled, Museum of Natural History.

“The SUB is up ahead.” The girl speaks flatly, and Yeonjun gives her a confused look.

“Student Union Building. They have an event center inside, super spacious, just incase.” She clarifies, looking at him again.

“Sorry, I just never went to college before this all happened…” He explains, finally parking the Jeep.

The parking lot extends to a walkway that goes under the second floor of the SUB, and Yeonjun finds himself parking there to keep the car hidden. It’s almost like the whole slab of the SUB’s second floor is covering the walkway for a few yards, and then connects to the neighboring Museum’s second floor too. Past the end of it all, he sees a grand cement staircase leading up to the side door of the building. It’s perfect.

He pushes the gearstick into park and finally cuts the engine, sitting silent for a few moments.

The smaller girl is still gazing out the windshield, eyes scanning along the huge quad slowly.

“Is it weird to be back here?” Yeonjun doesn’t know why he asks, but he can clearly see the girl is visibly upset as she has her hands bundled in fists.

Without answering, she unlatches her seatbelt, swings open the door, and steps into the cold. After her feet hit the ground and she slams the door closed, the rest of the boys in the back groggily come to.

“We’re here.” Yeonjun sighs, turning on the upper light and pocketing the keys, “Grab your stuff, we’re setting up camp for the night.”

And then he’s getting out of the car himself, slamming his door and heading for the trunk.

“Hyung look, there’s a giant tiger statue back there!” Kai says with excitement, motioning back through the door they just came in through.

“It’s a Bengal.” Y/N corrects the youngest boy before leading the group farther in the empty building. The inside is pitch black, but the moonlight allows Yeonjun to see their surroundings, just barely.

To their right there is a huge staircase leading to the lowest level of the building, and a long hallway filled with multiple tables and chairs, like a huge eating area. Next to the help desk in front of them, small restaurants are grouped side by side as the window parallel shines even more light on all of the walls. The girl drags them to the left, taking them toward the offices and hallway that lie ahead.

“Fuck.” She says when she finally sees the door. It is bolted shut, with wooden planks and furniture piled against it. There is no way they’re getting in.

“Plan B?” Yeonjun asks annoyingly, making the girl brush past him, feet stomping along the way.

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” She snaps as she drags them back past all the small food places, leading them toward a staircase near the side of the building. Yeonjun can’t help but make another snarky comment at her. Soobin laughs under his breath. The youngest boys look shocked.

“Doesn’t this place have elevators?”

She glares at him when he speaks again, and juts her chin to the elevator along the right wall as they walk into the stairwell, saying nothing as she climbs up the stairs.

The boys all follow her, saying nothing at their interaction.

“Hey, Y/N, do you know where we’re going now?” Soobin speaks up, his voice timid as he catches up to the angry girl.

“Yep. Clearly the elevators don’t work but the top floor is our safest bet. There are tons of big rooms where we’ll be safe in. Unless you guys wanna spend the night in the bowling alley or the movie theater.” She throws in the last options offhandedly, knowing both will just be annoying to settle down for the night.

The two youngests perk up at this though, all voicing their excitement.

“There’s really a bowling alley and a movie theater here? This place was so awesome.”

“It is awesome.” Y/N clarifies, swallowing thickly before she leads the rest of the boys up the remainder of the flights.

Once on the top floor, Yeonjun knows why the girl chose it for their spot. There are dozens of lined rooms down the hall on either of them, and huge windows that show the entire campus and more, the land extending for miles upon miles. He can even see the mountain just off campus, trees swaying in the wind.

“Here you go.” She says, finally shrugging off the backpack she was actually able to retrieve from the trunk, “Home sweet hallway.”

The largest room is to their right, which gives them a view of both doors on either side of the hallway. Yeonjun nods a bit before appointing the group to set up their own sleeping bags and spaces.

The three youngest always stick together, all chatting about whatever is on their mind as they set up their sleeping bags, and Yeonjun notices that Soobin is back to chatting with Y/N easily, saying something he can’t pick up as he starts laying out his sleeping bag as well.

It’s like that for a few minutes, all of the boys laying out their sleeping bags, whipping their blankets in the air to get it into shape before laying it on the thin material of their makeshift bed. Yeonjun honestly cannot wait to sleep. He’s so tired, he doesn’t even think much about the fact that they can’t eat dinner. He hopes they will be able to find some food tomorrow.

“Hey Jun?” Soobin asks, catching the attention of the older boy as he looks up toward him.

“Where is Y/N going to sleep?”

All eyes settle on the girl sitting criss-cross on the floor, shivering lightly with her coat draped over her shoulders. Soobin frowns at Yeonjun before motioning toward her obviously, and the older boy just sighs.

“It’s not my problem Soob-”

“She can sleep in my sleeping bag if she wants.” The younger boy offers, already looking back toward the girl again. Yeonjun feels his heart leap up into his throat. He has to try hard to not eagerly deny the fact that she very much cannot sleep with Soobin.

It’s not that Soobin is a bad guy - quite the opposite actually. And the last thing Yeonjun needs is to hear the girl giggling from Soobin’s goofy antics all night long. No, he will not have that.

“She’ll sleep with me.” Yeonjun says firmly, nodding before he kicks off his shoes and places them next to his flimsy little blanket layers on the ground.

“Not happening.” Y/N finally speaks up, glaring at Yeonjun, “I’d rather get mauled by a zombie.”

“Be my guest then, that is, if you don’t freeze first.”

Yeonjun grins sarcastically at the shivering girl, and even though she is wearing multiple layers, he knows she’lll still be freezing if she doesn’t contain enough heat to get her through the night.

“Jun.” Soobin tries to interject, but the blue-haired boy just glares at him.

“Not a debate, Soobin. Go to sleep.”

The tallest boy looks sadly at the girl, before turning on his back away from her. The rest of the boys do the same, leaving her shivering in silence.

Yeonjun doesn’t know what time it is when he feels movement from his side. His eyes snap open in fear quick enough, though, and he almost reaches for his bat next to him before a soft voice breaks through the darkness.

“Jesus, relax. It’s just me.”

The girl’s teeth are chattering as she crawls under the layers of blankets Yeonjun has above his body, and he doesn’t say anything as the side of her body is suddenly flush against his.

“Thought you’d rather be mauled to death.” He rasps, still half asleep as he nuzzles further into the blanket.

“Shut up, will you?” The girl responds, voice still low so she doesn’t wake the others.

It is quiet for a while, both of them just breathing together. Yeonjun doesn’t know if it’s awkward, but he’s too tired to care. After driving for so long, it starts to take its toll.

“Yeonjun?” The girl says softly, causing the older boy to glance over at her. She sighs before speaking again, “Who were you before all of this?”

The boy blinks at her, mind reeling before he stares up at the tiled ceiling again.

Does he want to do this? Does he really want to open up to the girl who he can’t help but fight with every single second?

He doesn’t have much of a choice as he opens his mouth, and his exhausted body starts speaking honestly.

“I lived in Korea.” He explains, but he doesn’t know why she cares enough to ask. He doesn’t know why he cares enough to explain. He wouldn’t have asked about her, but it’s clear she had other intentions.

“I worked for a company called Big Hit. It’s like a company that trains and creates Idols. Kind of like celebrity performers.”

The girl listens intently to his words, not speaking as he goes on.

“This was our first debut, coming to America. I always dreamed about coming back. I studied in California for a few years when I was younger, but it was always my dream to come back. You know you’ve made it when you make it in America.”

Yeonjun shifts to his side to get more comfortable, and suddenly realizes how close they actually are. He can feel the girl’s breath across his cheeks, and he has to keep himself from pulling away with anxiety.

“I- um… the rest of the boys were in a group with me. We were all idols. But when the virus hit, we got stranded here. Our managers died in a car accident, and we were lucky to make it out alive. We all just want to go back home.”

He doesn’t know why, but somehow he can’t stop. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at him, listening, or because he hasn’t talked to anyone like this in a long time.

“I loved dancing. I trained as an Idol for years, but it was all worth it because I loved it. Before all of this, I studied really hard, and I enjoyed hip hop the most. It was my favorite to dance to. Just being able to move my body freely to the music, I loved every second of it.”

Yeonjun stops now, not really knowing what else to say. He feels embarrassed, a bit flustered, and he tries to take the attention off of him as he asks, “Who were you before all of this, Y/N?”

The girl is still, eyes glossed over as she bites her lip a bit. Yeonjun can see it’s hard for her to talk about it, but she still does. She still opens up to him, because he did to her.

“I was… I was a student. I worked my ass off at community college to come here, and I got scholarships and grants just to be able to live here on my own. I had a rough time in high school, but college was supposed to change everything for me. I was living alone, trying to make friends, and just attempting to start my life. I came from a small town, where people get trapped like poison. No one comes out of my hometown unless they’re willing to risk everything for it.”

Yeonjun can feel his heart beating steadily against his ribcage as the girl speaks, and he can’t help but feel understood by her. He takes a deep breath to stomp the feeling down.

“I remember I was so excited to finally start. I was studying marketing and creative writing. I loved writing so much, I was so excited to be able to do what I loved. It may not seem like much, this town, but it’s all I had. It was the only chance I had at becoming someone else - someone better.”

She looks over at Yeonjun suddenly, and is surprised when he nods for her to continue.

“I grew up in this state my whole life, and my only goal was to leave. All I ever wanted was to leave.”

The smaller girl can’t help but get choked up, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Yeonjun easily slides the blanket farther over her shoulder, hoping the softness will comfort her a bit.

It takes a bit for her to finish, but once she does, Yeonjun knows she is exhausted.

“So that was it. I made it here, and then the virus stole it all from me. My education, my family. All the hope I had. Just… gone.” She says, eyes now closed as she lies next to him. He doesn’t know what to say, and he truly doesn’t think anything he can say will make her feel any better.

“You should rest.” He whispers to her, hand moving up before he realizes what he’s doing.

Before Yeonjun knows it, he’s wrapping his arm halfway across the girl, holding across her chest in a hug, his hand holding onto her right shoulder gently.

He slightly expects her to swear at him. He also expects her to punch him in the face.

She does neither.

Instead, her breathing evens out, and she falls asleep like that. With her body finally warm next to Yeonjun’s, and a single tear slipping down the side of her cheek.

Yeonjun allows himself to fall into a deep slumber soon after.

After all, tomorrow, they have to get a move on.

#yeonjun #yeonjun scenario #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fanfiction #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun fic #yeonjun au #yeonjun angst #choi yeonjun angst #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop angst #kpop fic #tomorrow x together au #tomorrow by together #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together fic #tomorrow x together angst #void #txtdiaries

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 5)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2276 Warnings: mentions of physical/verbal child abuse

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 4 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

The subway doors opened letting people spill out before the anxious crowd pushed their way in. Some people rush to find the best spot, leaning against the railing of the wall or beside the door that leads to the other cars, others look for a seat or grab a pole to hold on to.

Everyone kept to themselves though there’s a knowing look between a few, in search of the source of the terrible odor that fills the car. Summer may almost be over but the use of deodorant should never, ever stop.

You couldn’t wait to be home, not only to save your nose from further inhaling the awful stench but because you needed to prepare your outfit for the following day. You put in to leave work a few hours early and unbeknownst to Maria it was so you could interview at Metro-General with Ms. Rodriguez.

You needed to make a good impression. The deadline for submitting your internship paperwork was quickly approaching and you really wanted to have everything settled.

When you were finally home you kicked off your shoes and swapped your blouse and skirt for a more comfortable pair of leggings and a loose tank top. Your closet was full of options and you pulled down a few hangers but you couldn’t think straight. Your stomach rumbled with hunger so you decided to make something to eat.

Opening the cabinet you found a value sized box of macaroni and cheese, something you had bought on those few occasions you made something at home for when Steve would come over and knowing his appetite, family sized meals were the most appropriate.

Water began to boil on the stove as you went back to the items hanging off the closet door knob. With food on the horizon you were able to decide on a white striped button down with slim navy trousers and beige heels. Some basic jewelry was set aside, nothing too flashy.

As you poured the macaroni into the boiling water you realized just how much food there was going to be but at least you would have leftovers. Chalky orange powder floated in the air as you mixed the “cheese” in with the cooked pasta, stirring around to ensure everything was properly coated.

Setting the food aside you opened your fridge to grab a drink, debating what would go best with mac and cheese before you heard a knock at your door. Steve was at the gym and even though you were overdue to see Wanda you didn’t think she would just drop in without notice.

Looking through the peephole your heart raced. Bucky.

Unlocking the door you pulled it open and smiled at your unexpected visitor. “Hey neighbor.”

He smiled, quickly taking in your casual appearance. Bucky didn’t know you very well but he did know that you were a busy woman and any chance you took to relax should be thoroughly enjoyed.

“Hey Y/N. Sorry to bother you but…” He brought his hand up with a snap, presenting the match to your missing sock. “I think this belongs to you. I hope it does at least, otherwise it would be weird that I stole a random sock,” he laughed.

You reached forward for the sock, immediately recognizing it as yours. Your face questioned how he found it and Bucky explained it must have been left in the washing machine.

“Aww thanks!”

“You’re welcome. Uhh, well, I’ll let you get back to your evening.”

Bucky took a step to walk towards his door before you called out to stop him. He turned around with surprise written on his face.

“So, I kinda made enough mac and cheese to feed a small army and if I’m being honest with myself I know I’ll wind up heating some up in the middle of the night and definitely regretting it.”

Bucky laughed at your admission which made you smile even wider.

“So what I’m trying to get at here is, are you hungry?”

Bucky hadn’t expected to hear that from you and upon further clarification he certainly didn’t expect you to be inviting him inside your apartment, but he happily did so, following behind you.

He stared at your apartment thinking somehow you had so much more space than he did even though the units were identical. He smiled at the delicate decor around your bedding, the feminine curtain framing your bed with soft lights shining through it. It made your bed seem inviting, like a soft cloud floating amongst the starry night sky.

You lead Bucky to your table, pushing books aside and piling stacks of paper on top of them.

“Your place is cute,” Bucky commented as his head continued to look around and observe things.

Two bowls were brought down as you scooped heaping amounts of the mac and cheese into them, placing one in front of Bucky and the other at the empty spot beside him.

“Uh, I’m not actually sure what drinks go with this,” you admitted, chuckling as you turned back to Bucky.

Opening the refrigerator again you called out what you had and Bucky accepted a beer and you snapped open a White Claw and took a sip. He eyed you suspiciously and smirked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you joked.

Bucky ran his fork through the food, biting his lips to hold back an even bigger smile. “Like what?” he not-so-innocently asked.

“It’s the same look Steve gives me. I know they’re trendy but they’re actually really good!” you defended, taking a forkful of the still steaming macaroni.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

“Steve?! No, he’s just a really good friend.”

“Oh I just assumed since I know he’s here a lot.”

Your face twisted in confusion, worrying for a moment about the person you let into your apartment until Bucky eased your mind with the words you once told him, “thin walls.”

“Right.” You were partially relieved that your neighbor was not a creepy stalker, but you hoped you hadn’t heard all the times you were venting about him.

“Steve comes over to hang out and watch movies and stuff.”

“Oh, Netflix and chill? Do people still say that?” he wondered out loud.

“I don’t think they do,” you laughed. “Why, you jealous?”

You didn’t believe the words spoken had come out of your mouth. Where that brazen flirtation came from you don’t think you’ll ever know.

Bucky was just as caught off guard, swallowing his food at the same time unexpected nerves bubbled to the surface. “No…” he began.

“I’m just kidding. You don’t seem like the jealous type, especially with your, uh, frequent visitors.” Somehow things didn’t seem as awkward as the last time you brought the subject up.

“Yeah I’m not really a relationship guy,” he said confidently.

You found yourself explaining Steve’s situation with Lillian and how he needed a friend to take his mind off the pain. “I can’t blame him, having your trust broken like that is awful. He’s not ready to get back out there yet.”

Visible dark hair was speckled under his chin as Bucky tipped his head back to take a swig of the bottle. The bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed mesmerized your eyes, as did the single swipe of his tongue across his plump lips to lick away the excess liquid.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me? I couldn’t tell you what a relationship was if it hit me in the face.”

Lazily you swirled the fork around your food. “I’ve been so busy with school the last few years and working full time on top of it. It’s rare that I meet someone new, let alone devote any time to them.”

You explained the history of your living situation to Bucky and the reason behind all those nights you’ve spent studying at The Grind House.

“That’s definitely stressful,” he let out a sigh. “So why social work?”

Sometimes people know what they want to be from a young age. If they really like animals they might become veterinarians or zoologists. Some people have a knack for science, some for teaching, others for law. Bucky has clearly loved music even before he realized he could make a career of it.

Things were always different for you. There was never a clear choice. You had hobbies but nothing ever stood out and even as you grew older and your interests changed there was still never a distinct path of where you wanted to take your life, not until everything you thought you knew about your best friend had been a lie.

You took a moment to collect yourself before opening up. Throughout your first year of middle school you were seated next to Pietro Maximoff, a friendly, quick witted class clown that made each day brighter.

Pietro’s twin Wanda was separated into a different class but you all shared the same lunch period and became friends. You were never allowed to go to the Maximoff’s house and you didn’t question it too much. You didn’t mind when Wanda hung out in your room after school but she was always in a rush to get home before dinner, before her father got home from work.

It wasn’t until high school that you learned about Django Maximoff and the violence he inflicted on his children. His drinking had always been out of control but he managed it until one day when he was driving and he nearly hit another car. Pietro was worried and questioned if his father was alright, his concerns were answered with a rough fist.

As his drinking increased so did the physical abuse which he enforced over anything. If Pietro ate too quickly Django smacked his head and told him to slow down. If Wanda ate too slow he would kick her shins with heavy boots under the table and tell her to not chew her food like a cow.

Their mother Marya sported bruises that matched her children as Django didn’t hold back with her either. He blamed her and the kids for all the problems they were having. If bills were too high it was because the kids watched too much TV. That problem was solved quickly one night when he threw Pietro into it.

He got the worst of the abuse, often protecting Wanda when he could, telling her to hide in a closet or under the bed as he took each whip of the belt and every spiteful word that spewed from Django’s evil tongue.

Marya wanted to leave Django but he threatened to kill the children in front of her if she tried, he told Wanda and Pietro the same thing and so the family were hostages in their own home, left to keep their painful truth a secret for as long as they could.

You hated the days of Pietro’s absence, selfishly missing the way your friend could always make you laugh when unbeknownst to you he was at home recovering from an injury that was too great to hide at school.

A drunken crash finally removed Django from their lives but the damage was done. Left with large debts and little money Marya struggled to keep a roof over their heads.

Sometimes people do the wrong thing for the right reasons. By the time you were in high school Pietro dropped out and got involved with some bad people. The gang he was with gave him the opportunity to help provide for his mother and Wanda but they protested. Marya was looking into moving somewhere else, declare bankruptcy and start over, start fresh but it was too late.

“Pietro died.” Your voice cracked as the pain of bringing up the memories flooded your heart. “There was a shooting with a rival gang. Piet didn’t even have a gun but he ran out in the middle of everything to protect some kid from the crossfire.”

Bucky noticed the tears that brimmed over your eyes. You took another sip from the can, hoping that as you tipped your head back the tears would retreat. You really didn’t want to cry and make things awkward.

With another deep inhale you continued, “Pietro was robbed of his childhood and nobody did anything to protect him. It always stuck with me, I think about the signs looking back. There should have been someone there to help them, to intervene when they were growing up maybe, just maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

A tear managed to slip out but you wiped it away quickly. You didn’t have to say anymore, Bucky understood why. Every long day at work followed by a longer night of school, every minute you spent devoted to your studies, all of it was worth it to bring you closer to the promise you made yourself, helping the Pietro’s of the world that needed a hand to pull them from the darkness.

Dinner was finished shortly after and Bucky offered to help clean up but you declined. Bringing up the past made you long for a good, deep cry, one you didn’t really want to do in front of your new neighbor.

Bucky lingered at the door before leaving, acting on the thoughts he quickly processed in his mind. He leaned in to hug you, quickly because he wasn’t quite sure if you would be okay with that but firm enough to offer emotional support after you opened up to him. You nearly cried again as you felt his strong hold against you but thankfully you held out, letting the tears slip out after the door shut behind him. Bucky wasn’t so bad after all. 

PART 6

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Nagito Komaeda x Reader - Proposal

I needed some things to write! So i approached some folks for suggestions and the lovely @legendarytreasurerhighway​ asked for some fluffy domestic stuff, so here is what i came up with! 

Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

Your boyfriend is planning something. Whenever he is organising a special date for the two of you, or trying to hide a gift in the house somewhere, his luck always starts going haywire, and this is the worst it's ever been.

“Are you sure you're okay, Nagito?” You ask, you're in the middle of cleaning a mixture of blood and milk from his face. It’s all swirled together into a pale pink as it drips down his cheek.

He laughs, waving your concern away with a hand, “I’m fine! And you're doing such a wonderful job taking care of me, so I feel even better!”

You smile softly at him, wiping the last bit of milk from his chin, “You didn't get any shards stuck in your face did you?”

“Not at all!” 

It’s good that he has mellowed out a little, a few years ago the shattered milk jug would have resulted in an hour spent talking him back down from a self deprecating spiral. You knew what you were getting into when you asked him out, you knew that it would be hard work, but you have never been happier than you are with him. Your eyebrows pull tight as you trace the angry red cut on his cheekbone. It must have taken some seriously bad luck for a small mishap with a milk jug to result in such a deep cut. Luck this bad, means he got lucky somewhere else. 

Very lucky if the accident he had with the vacuum the night before is anything to go by.

“Thank you so much for taking the time to look after me, love.” Komaeda breathes, his eyes aglow with happiness, “I know it must feel like a waste of time to clean up after-” he stiffens and shakes his head a little, “-Sorry. Thank you.”

You cup his cheek in your hand, “You don't need to apologise. You're allowed to slip up every now and again.” You press a kiss to his forehead, “I love looking after you, Nagito. I love any time I get to spend with you.”

“Do you want to go out tonight?” 

“Oh.” You say, suddenly a little jittery. You didn't realise that whatever big thing he was planning would happen tonight, “Sure! Do you just want to go to the Italian place we like, or do you have something else planned?”

He definitely has something else planned. You heard him on the phone yesterday afternoon, talking animatedly to someone on the other end. From what you could hear, there was a stroke of luck (the cause of that is quite obvious) and whatever he was waiting on had been made available early. Maybe the luck he experienced there resulted in the bad luck of you overhearing. Either way, you aren't going to tell him that you know he is up to something.

“I have a few more things i need to do around the house today, but i was thinking we could try somewhere new.” He slips a hair tie from his wrist and starts gathering his mess of white hair into a bun, “I’ll look some places up online and let you know what i find, okay?”

This is suspicious, but you are too busy watching his long fingers contending with his hair. It’s been years and yet his hands have never stopped being mesmerising, “Sure. That sounds good.” 

He beams at you, “I’m glad. I’ve got a few things to pick up from the store so I’ll head off for now, do you need anything?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay. Just don’t be too long or I'll miss you.”

“Hah, we couldn't have that could we?” He stands up from his chair and wraps an arm around your shoulders before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’ll be back soon.”

*

You can see his hands shaking on the steering wheel. The sun has almost completely set outside the car and the moon is out in full, he doesn't usually drive. Something is definitely suspicious. After a day of him cleaning up around the house and you pouring over some work on your laptop, he told you that he finally picked somewhere to go eat, and that he would drive. He claimed that it was “kind of hard to find”, but you suspect he just didn't want you to punch the address into your GPS and ruin the surprise. Still, he usually hated driving. 

“We’re almost there.” He says, eyes flitting over to you and then back to the road. 

He’s wearing a pair of brown slacks and a green button-up that you bought him for his last birthday and his hair is in a tidy half ponytail, though a lot of it has still escaped at the front and is hanging in his eyes. He looks nice, really nice. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive, Nagito?” You can see a bead of sweat running down his forehead, but you can't tell if he is nervous about driving or something else, “You can give me directions.”

He shakes his head, “I’m okay, It’s just up here.” 

You are taken aback when he rounds the corner, and instead of seeing what you were assuming would be a restaurant, the car pulls up at a grassy lookout point. Nagito pulls the keys from the ignition and lets out a sigh of relief, glad that there weren't any luck related incidents on the way over. The sound of the ocean pricks your ears up and you open your door. It’s windy outside, but the summer air is still warm. The smell of the salt hits you and you close your eyes, breathing in the fresh air.

You hear the sound of Nagito closing his door and turn to look at him, he looks ethereal in the moonlight, the pale light is dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters, “So, no dinner?”

He laughs, “Yes, dinner. Come with me.” he takes your hand in his and starts leading you further down the lookout point, the grass is a little uneven but he is very careful in guiding you, “Are you cold?”

“No, the breeze is nice actually. I’m fine.” You smirk at him, “Looks like we had some good luck with the weather.”

It’s dark, but you can still see him turn a little pink. You don't have much time to indulge in his embarrassed expression though, because when he leads you through a small thicket of trees and bushes, you gasp and cover your mouth with a hand when you see exactly what he had been working on.

“Nagito…” You whisper, “You did all this?”

There’s a large red picnic rug laid out on the grass, surrounded by empty bottles filled with candles or flowers. To the right of it you can see a picnic basket and to the left, a bottle of wine in an ice bucket with two glasses standing beside it. When did he have time to set this up? You were working almost all day, he must have been driving all the way up here on his own to get everything ready. 

But this still doesn't explain the phone call, the picnic set up is elaborate, but clearly still organised by Nagito himself. You wonder what other surprises he has waiting for you.

“Is it okay? I know you don’t really like big fancy restaurants so i thought something more personal might be better…” He trails off into a nervous laugh.

“No, it’s wonderful! I just-” You look up at him, the moonlight catches in his hair, “-is there some sort of occasion or?”

He smiles, “Not at all! You’ve just been working very hard this past week and i thought it might be nice for us to have a real date.” he pauses, “not that i don't love our staple italian restaurant.”

You giggle, “This is much nicer than the italian restaurant. Thank you.”

He takes your hand again and starts leading you down to the picnic rug. You carefully toe off your shoes and curl your feet under yourself as you sit down. He managed to find the perfect spot to set up, you can see almost the whole coastline, the waves going out and coming in, a few boats dotting the horizon and the stars. They’re the most amazing part. 

You don't notice as you stare up at the sky, that Nagito only has eyes for you. He watches the gentle way you smile at the stars, and the way they dance in your eyes. He is fingering something in his right pocket, you definitely don't notice. 

There’s a fizz, then a pop and the sky lights up with an explosion of red and yellow fireworks.

You gasp, looking up at the sky before turning to Nagito, “Did you do that?” 

He is looking nervous, “I didn’t plan for it. No.” He sighs, disappointed, “I was hoping to save my luck for this next part…” 

His hands are shaking as he slowly reaches into his pocket, his eyes never leaving yours. He swallows, “You are...wonderful. I- uh, I mean, you know that I can sometimes be, hm…” his eyes turn from you as he fishes around for a word that isn't too negative. He eventually settles on, “complicated…”

You smile gently, “So can I. Remember when i couldn't put together my new desk chair so i cried on the floor for over an hour?”

“That was cute!” He says almost sternly, “I like when you get worried about things like desk chairs, or sad snails or, well, i guess me. You care about things a great deal and the fact that extends to someone like myself is just…” he takes a deep breath, “I am honoured every moment I get to spend with you, truly.” 

You feel your heart do a somersault in your chest, as the reality of what is happening starts setting in, “Nagito…” you breathe, covering your mouth with a hand. 

He smiles, “Ah. You’ve figured it out. I know you heard me on the phone yesterday afternoon, well they uh...they called to tell me that this was ready early.”

His hands are shaking when he pulls a ring out from his pocket. You start crying, you can't help it, “You thought you needed luck for this?” you whisper, “Nagito...you could have proposed to me at the kitchen table, or in the garage, or on the couch. The answer is always going to be yes.”

He laughs breathily, smiling wider than you’ve ever seen, “I haven't even asked yet.”

“You don't need to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He is crying now too, he brings an arm up to wipe his eyes on the back of his hand, “Do i...just put this on you, then?”

You can't stop smiling when you hold out your shaking left hand, “Yes! Please.”

When he slips the ring on your finger, his hands are trembling so much that it looks like he might drop it, but he doesn't, it slides on like it was always meant to be there. Like you were always meant to marry him. You cup his tear streaked face in your hand and kiss him with as much gusto as you can muster, your heart soaring with love of him, and then. It starts to rain. 

You’re laughing now, holding his face in your hands as the sky opens up above you. All of the food and the picnic blanket is drenched in moments. You’re cold and shivering but you’re happier than ever, “I guess your luck ran out, huh?”

He’s still smiling when he shakes his head, leaning in to press his lips to your cold cheek, “No. I’ve never been luckier.”

#komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #danganronpa #super danganronpa goodbye despair #/request

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I love the photographs series! Any more of those planned?

Photographs - Part Seven

Brianna helps Claire choose photos for her to show Jamie. When the time comes for Brianna’s journey, she takes a risk and brings her new automatic camera to document her time in the past.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

************************************************

Brianna watched as Ian stared at the razor in his hand but made no move to use it. It had been a few weeks since his return and she knew he’d heard the whispers. Amazement and fascination with his appearance had faded. For some, they simply ignored it, the ways he stuck out as different. For others, they spoke about how he hadn’t really come back or couldn’t be trusted. 

“He still dresses and makes himself look like one of them,” Mrs Bug had murmured under her breath to another woman as they kneaded dough, baking for the men who were nearly through with cutting the hay. “He’d be such a handsome lad were his heid no lookin’ like a plucked-bare chicken ready for the spit.”

Ian said nothing about whatever bits of gossip he overheard but Brianna thought he’d grown even quieter than when he’d first arrived back looking so haunted and worn… like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Watching him with the razor in one hand, glancing at Jamie’s small looking glass and running the other over the places on his scalp where the hair was beginning to grow back, he looked like he didn’t recognize himself. 

Brianna could certainly relate to that. How many mornings had she woken cold and disoriented listening for the furnace to kick on? How many times had she caught a glimpse of her bare limbs and experienced the jolt of shock at just how hairy, calloused, battered her body had become, how jarring and surprised that her brain had expected them to look as they did before?

Ian lathered his scalp and ran the razor over it, leaving the naked skin behind. Looking in the small mirror again, he sighed and shook his head. He cleaned up after himself before whistling to Rollo and stalking off. Watching him go, Brianna was struck by the image of his retreating figure dark against the lighter tones of the fields in the distance where the wheat was a pale wave bending to the breeze. It gave her an idea.

************************************************

Ian sat on the top step, leaning against the railing post. Rollo lay beside him, the dog’s head in Ian’s lap, eyes monitoring the horizon as dusk quickly yielded to night. 

He should turn in but still felt out of place, watched, even if Auntie Claire and Uncle Jamie meant well. And Brianna was staying at the house tonight too, with wee Jem. Roger was away on some errand for Uncle Jamie and though Brianna said she felt safer here than on her own, from the looks she’d been sending his way she felt the house was a more convenient place for keeping an eye on him. He doubted it was because she felt responsible for Ian essentially being traded for Roger – someone must have told her the whole story by now. Or maybe she had more questions about Ottertooth – he knew Auntie Claire did. Not that he had any answers or understood much about what they said about their own time. It didn’t much matter, as far as he could tell – they were here and he doubted anything could be done to change history. Even if he had known what would happen between him and Emily, would he have done anything differently? Almost certainly not. He would be exactly where he was now. 

Rollo lifted his head as Brianna came out to join Ian on the step. 

“I uh… I know it’s been a lot for you – coming back and then… the truth about Mama and Roger and me,” Brianna said quietly. 

Ian didn’t say anything, didn’t look at her so after a few beats she pressed on. 

“Personally, I’m a bit sick of talking about the war. It’s coming. We have time to make decisions. I’d rather talk about the fun stuff.” She held something out for Ian to take. 

“Isn’t that one of wee Jem’s toys?” he remarked turning the roughly carved object over in his hands, running a finger over the wheels.

“Roger made that for Jem and showed him how to play with it without even thinking,” she explained. “When he realized what he’d done, he called it a vroom but it’s a toy car. Automobiles won’t be invented for over one hundred years, but as soon as they are, kids will start making toy versions and every little boy will instinctively start making the ‘vroom’ sound,” she chuckled. 

Ian set the vroom on the step below them and gave it a gentle push. Rollo sniffed at it as Ian smiled. 

“It helps when you can have tangible reminders of what you’ve left behind,” Brianna continued, pulling out something more. “We don’t have many things left of what we brought with us but I have this.” Ian turned to look at it but Brianna kept it mostly concealed in a fold of her skirt. “It’s called a camera and I’d like to show you what it can do but we have to go inside where there’s more light.”

************************************************

“Lallybroch,” Ian gasped, looking at the image in his hand. He was too afraid to touch it, to feel for tiny brush strokes. He’d never seen a painting so perfectly rendered, especially so small though he knew artists skilled in miniatures existed. But none who could capture so much… 

“And that wee… thing,” he nodded at the camera Brianna held, “that made this?”

“Mmmhmm,” Brianna nodded, showing him another and another. Her parents in a candid moment by the hearth of the cabin she and Roger now shared. Jamie looking out over the land that had only just begun to be cleared to make the homes of the Ridge. 

“Is that…?”

“Jem,” Brianna confirmed with a laugh. “That’s the day he was born.”

“And ye can truly see it any time ye want…” Ian murmured with awe. 

“It can make it easier to let go of some things when you have this kind of memento… or hold on, maybe… while moving on.”

When Ian handed back the small stack of photographs, he thanked her for sharing them with him. “I ken I couldnae hear the gemstone so it’s no likely I’d ever be able to see such wonders as ye’ve told tale of, but if I were ever like to doubt, those are proof enough for me.”

“Ian… I want to take your picture,” Brianna told him. “Somewhere out in the woods where we wouldn’t be seen. A portrait or two of you and Rollo… What do you think?”

Ian looked flabbergasted. “Ye want to use yer camera there on me?”

She nodded. 

“It… willna hurt, will it?”

“Not at all,” she assured him, struggling not to laugh. “You can take pictures of people and they don’t even have to know you’re doing it – that is, they won’t necessarily notice.”

“And why do ye want my… ‘photo’, was it?”

Brianna sighed, unsure how to put her hope into words. “I wish I’d managed to sneak a picture of you before… everything happened – before you went to live with the Mohawk. I’m sure you feel you’ve come back… different.”

He ducked his head and she wanted to kick herself. 

“That’s not… I don’t mean it in a bad way, exactly. It would be easier if I could show you pictures of my mom like the ones I grew up with,” she rambled. “Looking at the ones from her wedding to my dad – to Frank – before she ever met Jamie and then pictures of her when I was little and then this one, now…” she pulled out the image of her parents again. “You can see how in some ways she’s the same and in some ways it’s like she’s a completely different person. Having pictures like this, especially of ourselves… it can help us recognize ourselves as we grow, as life changes us.”

“Ye think having a picture of me will help me to… what?” Ian asked, still unsure. 

“It might not help you right now,” Brianna admitted, “or maybe ever. But you’ll always be able to look back and see where you were – who you are – now.”

Ian rolled his eyes, still baffled and unconvinced but ready to yield to his cousin’s whim. 

“If ye want to add me to yer wee stack there, I suppose I dinna mind,” he said. “I do want to see how it works.”

************************************************

A few days later Brianna and Ian went on a hunting trip together, just the two of them. 

Within another week, Ian had stopped shaving his head. 

#returning to this AU after far too long #;mod lenny #photographs au #anonymous