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ohdeerfully · 27 days

Note

Hello

I live

Well, barely

OMG ISTG I JUST REREAD LIKE ALL OF YOUR FICS I'M GOING SGSJDGDJHFJDY

Your writing. I swear. It's so good. Like when I read any other alastor x reader fic I have this nasty voice in the back of my head going 'He wouldn't do this'. THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN HERE

You are a genius. (Thabk you for speepy Alastor coming from an insomniac is good praise, no?)

My personal favourites are

a. Either of the sleepy Alastoe fics (obviously)

b. Dry bed. Istg the writing in that.. Augh

Could you do a part two to Dry bed? Maybe they just wake up (Together!!!) and awkwardly get their way down to breakfast. Then they simply avoid each other all day, not talking, but still stealing glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Then reader finds Alastor chilling on the hotel roof the following night and they TALK about it. And figure things out.

Omg thabk you for listening to my rant I hope you are doing well byeeee

~❤✨

P. S. You and your fics are my new hyperfixation

hello!!!!! in general sorry yall for my absence, finals are literally next week so it Will happen again

im so glad u like my depiction of alastor hes literally so annoying to write... a dry bed is honestly probably one of if not THE fave fic ive written (though might be a tie with mourning dove) so i hope part ii does it a bit of justice (,: i kind of deviated from ur request at the beginning (they dont wake up together >_<) but otherwise i hope u enjoy! hopefully its not too obvious i kind of rushed it

mwah! <3

A Warm Bed

(sequel to A Dry Bed)

Alastor x Reader (hurt/comfort, fluff) TW: none really, alastor is probs ooc but who cares

join my discord!

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It felt a little bit too cold when you woke up, but you couldn’t immediately find a reason why. Your eyes squinted open, facing the curtains that were drawn just enough to where a peek of the morning light rudely shone against your face. You turned over with a dissatisfied groan.

Peering at the empty bed beside you, you stared blankly as wheels began to turn in your mind. It only took a few seconds to remember the previous night, and your face quickly warned as you hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, wrists coming up and rubbing your eyes with a sense of dismay.

Man, what were you thinking. You felt a strong mixture of regret and embarrassment but also… you felt lonely. The strong, strange affection from Alastor the previous night directly compared to him disappearing and leaving you alone in the morning made you feel all the more cold. The room also had an uncomfortable silence to it, but at the same time too loud with the hum of your ceiling fan.

Whatever, you feigned indifference to yourself and lifted yourself from your mattress, legs dangling over the side of your bed for a few moments, allowing yourself to get a quick stretch in before sliding on some comfortable slippers while you went to your restroom, protecting your feet against the cold tile.

You quickly freshened up, pulling on some comfortable loungewear before leaving your hotel room and walking down the long corridor that led to the steps. Maybe it was just your current mood, but the ambience was too quiet and uncomfortable.

Your spirits slowly lifted as you made your way down the steps, and you could hear the faint clashing of kitchen tools being dropped and thrown, alongside unintelligible and arguing voices, one doubtlessly being Vaggie trying to tame—or, no, threaten—the chaos.

The air, at the very least, smelled good despite the racquet. Though you were in Hell, the food was still appetizing—even if you weren’t exactly sure what it was half the time.

You must’ve made it just in time, as right when you turned the corner you nearly hit your head against Charlie’s shoulder as she rounded the same corner. You tripped over each other for a moment before she ultimately steadied you with a hand and a breezy laugh.

"Good morning! I was just about to tell everyone breakfast was ready…” You smiled at her gesture. Every morning she tried to host some sort of typical continental style breakfast that was standard for most hotels—that is if Niffty’s behavior permitted a successful morning—and the quality was usually higher than what you remembered in your time alive. Of course, you were dealing with the Princess of Hell, who obviously wouldn’t want anything mediocre for her treasured guests.

“Thank you,” was all you could offer in return before she passed you, doubtlessly to gently announce the food to the other guests. There had been an increase in residents lately, so you weren’t shocked at the piles of delicious looking food that met your eyes when you stepped into the kitchen. You could practically imagine sparkles dancing around the fluffy pancakes and still sizzling pans of various breakfast meats.

You helped yourself to a meal, carefully stepping around the growing crowd of other guests, who all, for the most part, seemed a little aggravated at being woken up but nonetheless pleased at the free meal.

A brief hush filled the room as the air seemed to get just a bit heavier, more ominous, alongside the new presence of a prickling against your skin. You didn’t have to look up, nor did you even want to look up, to know who the culprit of such a suffocated atmosphere was; you knew him well enough.

The kitchen slowly came back to life, albeit a bit stiffer and with quieter conversation. You kept your eyes glued to your plate of food as you made your way towards the dining area. As you passed through the entrance, out of your peripheral you saw the large, looming figure of the demon you had become unnaturally attached to. You didn’t look up or even acknowledge him, pretending to just not notice, but you could swear you felt his red gaze burning a hole in your skin.

A few minutes passed after you sat down before Alastor joined you, sitting in his unofficial assigned seat. The only difference was he didn’t scoot his chair nearly as close as usual, as well as the way his body was turned just slightly so that his back was facing you. Not enough to be noticed by other people, but just enough for you—though, maybe you were just overanalyzing things?—to notice how he was pointedly uninviting you from any interactions with him.

Why even bother coming to breakfast, you thought coldly to yourself, deciding to just feel mad about it instead of stewing in your own self-hate and regret. You had already spent all morning feeling stupid for the night before. It’s not like you even eat this shit. Go eat a dead deer or something.

Your fork poked aggressively against the food on your plate, head propped up against a fist as you mindlessly scooted the food around in a pool of syrup. You hoped to convey some sense of hatred to the demon next to you as you jammed a fluffy bite of pancake into your mouth—oh, that’s so good, your spirits were lifted just a bit as the slightly sweet and buttery pancake touched your tongue.

A hand touched your back, and you jolted in surprise. Naturally your eyes first went to Alastor next to you, thinking maybe he was finally over himself, but he had his hands folded on the table in front of him as he watched another table argue over something probably meaningless. Maybe you’re crazy, but did you see his eyes flick to your just as you looked away? You shook off the idea.

Vaggie sat to your right, and was currently eyeing you with a hint of concern in her eye. You shrugged off her hand as politely as possible before smiling at her with a raised eyebrow, trying to play it off with an ‘I’m alright.’

“People that are ‘alright’ don’t usually have some personal vendetta against a plate of breakfast food,” She said in a low voice, trying to keep your conversation private, particularly from a certain set of prying, fluffy red ears. “You know you have friends here. Especially Charlie.”

“Really, I’m all good, just… long morning,” You did your best to wave away her worries again, suddenly feeling a little childish. From the way she spoke, you would think she was talking to someone going through something serious—you were just having some guy problems.

It seemed to work well enough, because after looking at you for a few more beats she raised her hand and turned away, picking up a conversation with her girlfriend. You sat in your spot for a few more minutes, but the growing anxiety from silently and awkwardly sitting next to Alastor, sifting through so many racing thoughts and doubts, gnawed at your stomach. You finally stood up and excused yourself with a thank you and left the room.

You had no specific place to be, so you just wandered into the lobby and slumped against a couch. You briefly wondered where Angel was; he was surprisingly good at listening to romantic troubles, though honestly you probably wouldn’t divulge your whole “thing” with Alastor. That would probably meet no welcomed response.

You must have dozed off, because the sudden sound of raised voices startled your eyes open. Arguments and general anger were commonplace here, so you weren’t particularly shocked to find Vaggie and Angel Dust going at it about something regarding his behavior and the Hotel—a recurring theme in their conversations. Vaggie’s words fell on deaf ears as Angel tutted at her words with a waving and dismissive hand.

“I’m sure ninety percent of these guests would love to have a piece’a me!” He said, taking long strides across the room as he fixed up his chest fluff with two hands. He leaned his hip against the large chair that, much to your dismay, sat Alastor, his grin tightening as Angel approached. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as the spider laid his torso across the head of the chair.

“Even this one…” Angel said with a pouty lilt in his voice, finger dragging up the embellishments as he tried to play flirty. Alastor clicked his tongue distastefully in response before he stood up, hands folding neatly across the top of his cane.

“Not quite to my taste, thank you!” He said, looking down at Angel with an ugly curl in his lip. Angel only huffed in response before slinking down the back of the chair and taking up the space where Alastor previously sat, leaving said demon just standing there.

Alastor’s eyes glanced at you, so brief that you honestly may have imagined it, before he simply hummed with closed eyes and melted into the ground, the shadow where he once stood inking across the carpet before finally coming to a rest… behind the couch where you were laying. You grimaced as you felt his presence manifest again, sending a ripple of that familiar prickle down your bare arms.

Was this going to be your eternity now? Playing some game of cat and mouse where you have to leave every room you’re in just because Alastor gets too close for comfort? You turned your head to try to get a look at him from the corner of your eye, but immediately looked away again when you saw he was already looking at you. You couldn’t read his expression.

You sat up and thought for a few moments. Honestly, it was probably best to just go spend a depression day alone in your room. As pushy as Alastor could be, he wasn’t typically the type to barge into rooms without invitation.

Slowly standing, you managed to avoid the attention of the couple of others in the room—though, realistically, none would care if they happened to see you leave; you were just on edge to everyone and everything. You quickly made your way up the stairs, frowning down at your feet as you walked. You shot a sideways glance at Alastor as you rounded a turn in the steps, finally meeting his gaze for a few seconds before your view was blocked by the wall.

You sighed as you found yourself in front of your hotel room, a heavy feeling making you suddenly choke up. You ushered yourself into the room before you embarrassed yourself by crying openly in the hallway, but the comforting solitude of your room as you leaned your back against the door to close it made it a bit easier to breathe.

After ensuring the door was locked, you went to stand at the edge of the bed, frowning down at the still unmade sheets. Thoughts of that tender night came to the front of your mind at full force, and you bit your lip anxiously. The warmth of his body against yours, the tangle of legs and soft touches of lips… was it all actually, in a cruel turn of reality, a fake expression of care from him? When you had finally begun to think you could read the affection on his face…

You settled into the soft mattress, uncomfortably aware of how big and cold it was. You were no stranger to sleeping alone by any means, but after finally experiencing the shared space with someone you loved, the contrast was stark and unwelcomed. You did your best to ignore it as you tucked yourself in, letting your eyes fall shut in a poor attempt to sleep away your worries.

Your attempts were unsuccessful, and an empty feeling of longing and despair in your stomach grew stronger with each hour that passed as you watched the red hue of the daylight sky turn darker. You felt both restless and tired at the same time, lacking any energy to actually do anything to pass the time.

It all proved to be counterintuitive to the whole “sleep your worries away” as the hours you spent just lying down only gave you ample opportunity to melt in your own thoughts as the memories of last night kept returning. Man, why did you have to kiss him? You unwittingly ignored the fact that he had also played a part in closing that gap between you; you were honestly just pinning the blame fully on yourself.

Finally sick of stewing in misery, you kicked off the heavy blanket and stood up. You needed some fresh air.

You tried to walk quickly with a fake sense of purpose so, in the odd chance you passed someone, they hopefully wouldn’t ask about your absence all day—you were typically more present and friendly with everybody as you would often help Charlie with event organization. Lucky enough for you, you passed nobody on your way to the door that opened to some stairs up to the roof of the Hotel.

After a quick pace up the echoey, metal steps, you pushed open the large doors and greeted with a pleasantly cool rush of wind. It was still warm, of course, being Hell and all, but cooler than usual. You quietly closed the heavy doors behind you.

There was a spot on the roof you typically sat at during long, restless nights, and you turned the corner of the door before promptly backtracking and pressing yourself up against the metal door once again, jaw clenched in a mix of shock and anger.

Why the Hell was Alastor on the roof at your spot with your blanket that you had left up here on some previous night? Was he doing all this on purpose? Constantly getting all too close to you while simultaneously acting cool and indifferent towards your existence? Was this all just some sick game to him? Well… it is Alastor.

You peeked over the edge from where you hid to get a better look at him. He sat serenely with his back towards you, legs hanging over the edge of the roof. You couldn’t see his expression, but his body waved just slightly, most likely to the tune of some song in his head. Despite all the frustration you felt in your soul towards him, looking at him under the blanket of a dark red sky with a sprinkling of stars… he still endeared you. Especially when he looked so harmless and relaxed.

Just as you were about to turn away again and find somewhere else to relax, he cleared his throat, stopping you before you could even move.

“It’s rude to stare,” He stated, projecting his voice just enough for you to hear the light humor in his voice. “You seem like a stalker, darling!”

You straightened your shoulders before walking out from behind the wall, a frown on your face. You didn’t walk any closer—God forbid you accidentally do anything to hurt your relationship anymore, if that was even possible.

“I didn’t mean to, I was just… surprised, that’s all,” You reasoned, tapping your foot impatiently. “You are kind of in my spot.”

He hummed, absently pointing at the surface around him. “I didn’t see your name on it.”

You couldn’t really think of a response quickly, so you just stayed quiet, continuing to just stand in place a few meters away from Alastor.

He briefly put his hand down on the space next to him, patting twice in a vague invitation for you to join him. You thought for a brief moment before cautiously walking towards him, steps growing slower with each foot you got closer. He made no move to send you away—in fact, he even started moving the blanket in a way to make the concrete just a bit more comfortable to sit on. He still didn’t look at you.

Embarrassingly your hands had started to shake, which you realized when you reached your hand down to support your body as you lowered it to sit. You just hoped Alastor didn’t notice. You let your legs fall over the ledge, swinging slightly next to Alastor’s. You didn’t notice how he shifted his knee a bit closer to yours.

The two of you sat in silence under the still-darkening sky, and you couldn’t decide if it was a comfortable or awkward silence. Alastor didn’t seem to mind, so you tried to convince yourself it was comfortable despite the itching anxiety in your chest.

“I’m really sorry about last night,” You blurted out, unable to contain it anymore. Was it a bad idea to even bring it up? Maybe. But you felt that your relationship was already irreparably damaged so it couldn’t hurt to at least apologize. You saw his eyes turn towards you out of your peripheral, and you were too ashamed to meet his look, instead opting to fiddle with a fray of the blanket edge.

“Whatever for?” He responded after an uncomfortably long pause—this stunned you. Fuck you mean ‘whatever for?’ Your head whipped up to look at him, brows furrowed.

You had spent all die scared that you ruined everything between you and Alastor, regretting everything that led up to last night’s events—it didn’t help that Alastor himself was also blatantly avoiding you. What the fuck is he acting so confused for?

Apparently you said that all out loud, as Alastor’s smile was growing more and more strained with each loud word that tumbled from your lips. You didn’t even realize until you were done and catching your breath, but at this point you couldn’t care less to apologize or feel bad about it. You folded your arms and fixated your eyes on some random pedestrian below as another long stretch of silence filled the air.

“You confuse me,” He finally said, with a voice that lacked its usual radio tone. You didn’t respond, so he continued. “I feel these alien emotions when I’m near you—you bewitch me. And I don’t like it. I hate you for it.”

You couldn’t control the slight slump in your shoulders and the sharp pang in your stomach that his words brought you. Hate.

“But… I kill the demons I hate,” He said, looking away from you and up at the sky. “And I can’t find myself wanting to kill you. That has to mean something, though I’m really no man to figure it out myself.”

You cautiously returned your eyes back to him, shoulders curled forward as if to protect yourself against the blow of any harsh words. But, as he spoke, you felt that anxiety slowly lighten as you pieced together what he was trying to convey in his own strange way. Although, you weren’t really sure what to say in response, filled with too many swarming emotions—both new and old.

Suddenly you looked at the space between the two of you—was Alastor’s hand there just a minute ago? You looked up to try to get any hint of his goals; but, unsurprisingly, he remained unreadable. It was definitely safer to just ignore it.

Well, that got a lot harder when his pinkie finger stretched towards you just a bit, practically inviting you. You looked at his face one more time, swallowed your fear, and tenderly laid your hand down next to his. You moved it cautiously closer, just enough so that your pinkie touched his own. His lifted up and curled over yours, tightening in a way to bring the rest of your hand closer and enveloping it with his own. Your gaze was fixated on this exchange and you felt heat warm your cheeks and ears.

You both said nothing, but you thought the pounding in your ears would drown out any attempt.

Your attention finally broke from the hands that now clasped together between the two of you, turning up towards Alastor. You found that he had been looking at you with such an intensity it made you feel like an open book before him. His eyes had a slight glow to them now that the sky had fully darkened—eyes that were usually so malicious and secretive seemed to now burn with what you could only assume was affection.

“I can’t promise I’ll be a good man,” He finally broke the silence. His smile was small but strained, and his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

In response you shook your head with a breathless laugh, tightening your hand just slightly around his as you focused on the street below, watching the scattered presence of night owl demons.

“I probably couldn’t promise the same, either,” You admitted, leaning back and stretching out your legs in the open air over the ledge of the roof. You froze momentarily when Alastor shifted a bit closer, his knee now barely knocking against yours.

He reached his hand out, fingers curling gingerly but firm over your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He examined your face for a moment, red eyes trailing over every curve of your features before settling back to look into your eyes.

“But I can promise, cher,” The new name he referred to you as made the already present flush in your cheeks only intensify. “That as long as you own what’s left of my heart, no demon in Hell can keep you away from me. Not even you.”

His words were spoken almost like a threat in an ominously low tone, that heavy radio affliction dripping from his words. In his eyes was a sudden look of sinister intensity and devotion, something you had never even dreamed of seeing, especially from him and especially towards you. As menacing as the words seemed, you couldn’t stop the wry smirk that inched up your lips, slightly smushed between his fingers that still firmly held your head in place.

“I’d like to see anyone try,” You responded in an attempt to match his energy. This seemed good enough for him, as his smile lifted for a moment as he released you from his grasp and faced forward again.

You yawned and stretched out your arms above your head, popping a few bones in your back before you stood. He followed suit, deftly touching his clothes with one hand to smooth any wrinkles or crooked buttons—his other was still holding your own.

He stepped closer, nearly pressed against you, when suddenly the atmosphere around you seemed to melt in a swirl of black before being replaced with the familiar decor of your hotel room. He gave you a light nudge and you fell back onto the bed.

After recuperating and settling, you watched him from your spot on the bed as he draped off his coat and slacks before joining you in the sheets. His body language was tense and unsure, but to your own pleasure the stiffness in his shoulders lightened just a bit when your hands tenderly rubbed against his skin.

The bed that was only hours before too big and too cold was now inviting with the warmth of Alastor’s body against your own, his scent filling your nose with every inhale as his hair brushed against your cheek. Every movement was a shaky blur as you were still filled with a sense of disbelief and maybe a little bit of adrenaline from the unexpected switch-up from him. The mattress dipped and creaked as he tried to make himself comfortable, which took an awkward few seconds, but after finally settling in you found yourself laid against his chest, fingers trailing down his skin.

Alastor’s own clawed fingers trailed through your hair and he hummed the quietest tune, lulling you further into an exhaustion that you didn’t realize had been creeping up on you. You fell asleep to a comfort that you hoped you wouldn’t have to spend another day in eternity without.

#ohdeerfully #❤✨#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #hurt/comfort #alastor fluff #not proofread #like usual #el oh el

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httpskuzuu · 6 months

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if your not busy then can you make more yandere chuuya l'm down bad for him lol!😭

The best gift

can we give reader a therapy session? thanks

Yandere!Chuuya x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

summary: Chuuya just wants to make you happy (I love that man)

tw: failed escape attempt, mention of punishment, broken leg, feelings of abandonment? idk

He couldn't be more fed up with you.

I mean, he loves you, but the fact that you are always unwilling to correspond to him is something that really hurts him deeply.

He even thought of locking you up in complete darkness, no light, no food. He wanted you to crawl to him afterward and ask him to get you out. He wanted to make you say you loved him.

He never got around to putting that plan into action, obviously. He's not that horrible! He's not a monster. He really loves you.

Sure anyone would put you through the most grotesque tortures to make you submissive. But he was different, you should appreciate him more.

As much as he knows you have reasons, he still finds it completely overkill because, come on, you have everything you want just by asking nicely! Everything but freedom, of course.

You want expensive clothes? Okay. You want diamond jewelry? In less than five seconds, you'll have them in your hands. Want to travel to exotic destinations? He's taking you, just don't leave his side.

All he asks is a little obedience from you, it's not that hard, is it? He's looking out for your happiness too, the more submission from you, the better quality of life. It's a win-win.

But you didn't seem to understand that.

You were in bed, lying there, not wanting to move an inch of your body. Chuuya broke your leg just two days ago. The pain was unbearable.

You didn't talk to him since that, well, except for the moment he broke it. You cried to him and begged him, as silly as it sounds, to make the pain stop.

You wished Chuuya was some mythical God so he could fulfill your earlier request.

The pain didn't make you think well, so you were crying to Chuuya, talking about your cat and how much you missed him. Chuuya was by your side, stroking your hair, listening to you attentively.

You always mentioned your cat, how you wanted him with you now, how much you loved him. In fact, most of the time when an argument happened, it was because you mentioned that you wanted to go home with your cat!

Was an animal really that important to you? Well, if it made you happy, Chuuya would bring it home. Maybe then you'd stop crying randomly throughout the day, or fighting him. Imagining you, a fighter, turning into someone with a more passive behavior just because of a cat, drove him crazy.

Chuuya warned you that he was leaving, but that he would be back quickly, he left you a pain pill along with a glass of water. He hoped you would notice that he was not so cruel, after all, he could have left you lying on the floor, with two broken legs instead of just one, as was his idea at the beginning.

You were left alone in the house. You had never felt more lonely and bad in your life. Your friends, your family, your pet, what will become of them?

You feel miserable, left to your own devices. Why didn't they come for you? Did they care about you in the first place? You were sure there should have been an investigation into your disappearance by now, but what if there wasn't? What if you weren't important enough to them?

Were you that hard to love? But Chuuya loved you, in an obsessive way, but he did. Wouldn't that be the purest kind of love?

You don't know why you keep fighting, but it's something normal in you, like something wrapped in your DNA. You feel attacked, helpless, by something bigger that can't be stopped, so you grit your teeth trying to feel safe. It's not working the same for you anymore.

You didn't try to escape because this life was bad. You tried to escape because you didn't want to be forgotten by others. What kind of life is one in which you are a ghost trapped?

But you are not selfish, you hope they are doing well. You hope they have the happiness you can't seem to achieve.

You cried until you heard the door open. You hadn't noticed that Chuuya had come home.

You looked at him for a few seconds, he had with him a black gift box, tied with a ribbon. You didn't want gifts, you didn't want jewelry that could buy you.

Sure, that was until you heard a meow come out of the box. You stopped crying almost automatically and looked at it in surprise. You could even feel the glint settling in your eyes.

Chuuya pretended not to hear the meowing. "Why didn't you take the pill? You can't complain about the pain and then be stubborn enough not to take it."

"What's in the box?"

"A present for you. I thought it might make you happier." He sat on the edge of the bed, resting the box on his legs. "You know, I don't like to see you cry."

His gloved hand reaches to your cheek and wipes away the tears. There is an impulse in your body to fight, to refuse to be touched, but you stayed still.

Chuuya put the box on the bed next to you. You struggle and manage to sit up in bed, your leg throbbing with pain, but you ignore it. You have more important things to do now.

You don't even look at Chuuya for approval to open the box, you just open it. And there it is, your faithful friend who always stood by your side. Your cat.

You cry again.

Your cat seems happy to see you again, he nuzzles his head against your hand affectionately and meows at you. You take him in your arms and hug him.

"Do you like the present?" Chuuya's voice comes through in the place only ruled by your sobs. Of course you like it, how could you not? You missed this kitten so much, it had been so long since you hadn't seen him.

You nod your head. "Very much, I like it very much. Thank you Chuuya." Your voice shakes from the sobs, but that doesn't matter anymore.

You don't have to keep staying defensive when you have a friend with you.

"I thought maybe your cat could help you to be calmer, to stop fighting."

There was always something hidden. Chuuya wanted to see you happy, of course, but if he could gain some of that happiness from you, he would gladly do so.

You nod again. "Yes, it will help me." You wipe the tears from your cheeks as you smile.

It looks like you're both happy for once.

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #yandere bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #yandere chuuya #chuuya #chuuya nakahara

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vladajwrites · 1 year

Text

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5,043

Notes;

Part 3 should be available soon. Thank you for any and all support! It truly means the world to me. Check post comments after reading chapter for additional statements.

As you had anticipated, Irina was truly overjoyed to learn how your first day of school had gone. She asked so many questions; the conversation went well into the night after she had returned home from work.

“Could you see yourself becoming friends with any of the other students?” Irina asked from the kitchen table as you cleared remnants of dinner from the counter.

You set a plate down in the sink and contemplated her question. Thinking back on the people you met over the course of the day, a few names came to mind. Kirby seemed kind. You had exchanged numbers after film club had ended. Her other friend, Jill, seemed a fine enough person as well, though a bit more reserved.

You thought back to any of the other conversations you had throughout the day. Robbie’s awkward invitation played over, albeit a brave gesture, it didn’t seem like likely grounds for a friendship. Your thoughts then shifted to Robbie’s counterpart.

Charlie seemed to keep much more to himself. It felt special to have someone, practically a stranger, come to your defense in any sort of situation. Charlie could be a friend, possibly. A half smile slipped up your lips. What did you know, though? Maybe it wasn’t really a possibility at all.

“I don’t know, maybe. I think it’s too soon to tell.” You spoke over your shoulder, holding your hand under the kitchen faucet, waiting for the water to warm.

“Hmm,” Irina began, you peered over at her. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, concealing a knowing smile. “Well, I have hope for you. Don’t count anybody out just yet.”

You nodded, loading glasses and silverware into the dishwasher.

If it were meant to happen, you figured it would. The only real matter of importance to you at the moment was pushing through your classes, giving yourself an opportunity to move you forward in life. It wouldn’t be long until college applications and standardized testing would be consume most of your free time and thoughts.

The next few weeks passed by as most did when beginning a new school year. The teachers, thankfully, kept most assignments and quizzes simple to build back the tolerance towards regular class work that had been lost over the summer break.

As you had also expected, the introductions and sudden interest other students had towards you started to fizzle out as they fell back into their usual routines. Although Kirby had become a welcomed energy in your space. She went out of her way to speak to you in classes you shared. She had even recently began to invite you to join her and her small circle to leave campus during your lunch period. It felt nice to be included, even if you had yet to be around them outside of school hours.

Charlie had continued to walk with you to film club most days. The two of you shared very little actual conversations. Most moments were filled with a comfortable silence.

You really began to pick up on things in the club. You’d write yourself small lists of the movies mentioned during that hour and return home to watch as many as possible while you worked on your homework. It was nice to have things to fill your time, distractions to push any memories away from before your return to Woodsboro.

The air had started to chill and change as September crept its way to the present day. It was a cloudy Friday, nearly two full weeks had passed since that first day of school. You were walking your usual route towards room 120A, Charlie in step beside you. Just before you were able to make it through the classroom doors, you heard your name called from the opposite end of the hallway.

You looked up to find Scotty Anderson gawking his way towards you. ‘Shit,’ you rolled your eyes. You had done a pretty good job of avoiding him and his group since the sports equipment bag debacle. You glanced over at Charlie. His frame was unusually rigid, no discernable emotion in his expression.

You sucked in your cheeks, debating on just turning into the classroom. It was better to just get this over with than put it off; you decided.

You took a few steps forwards, meeting Scotty in the middle of the hallway. You held both hands in front of you, tapping your foot as you thought of what he could have to say to you.

“Hey, I know we haven’t had the opportunity to speak.” Scotty began, moving the same bag of equipment up onto his shoulder. “I just wanted to apologize for running into you the other day. Definitely not cool.” It was clear in his tone he didn’t actually mean a word of what he had just said.

You nodded, biting the tip of your tongue. You never expected an apology, and after as much time had passed, you really didn’t care to have one. You were more confused about why he had apologized now, after days had passed.

“It’s fine man, don’t worry about it.” You replied, turning on your heel to head back towards the classroom. Scotty’s hand gripped its way around your upper arm, spinning you back towards him. You were visibly taken aback by the sudden motion and intrusion into your personal space.

“Look, let me make it up to you. Give me your number, I’ll take you out sometime, show you around Woodsboro.” He practically demanded, a sly cocky grin plastered across his face. He was just plainly handsome, the athletic and popular type you imagined some girls would go for. You might’ve given him a chance too, if things hadn’t started out the way they had. He was still somehow able to make his chances even worse though as he continued to talk. You weren’t the least bit interested.

You glanced over your shoulder. Charlie was still standing in the doorway, his eyes flashed quickly between you and Scotty. A disgusted frown clung to his lips as he watched the situation unfolding before him.

You looked back up at Scotty, shaking your arm out of his grasp. “No thank you,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened in disbelief, as if he’d never heard those words before. “What?” His mouth hung agape.

“I said no. I’m just not interested.” You replied, this time more sternly.

Scotty scoffed, surely attempting to conceal his bruised ego. He stomped his way down the hallway like a toddler. “Ugly bitch.” You could hear him mutter as he grew further away.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your shocked laughter. You turned back around. Charlie was gone from his spot. A stupid smile plastered on your face as you entered film club. If Anderson truly felt that way, he would’ve never made an attempt to come onto you in the first place. You found your seat next to Kirby and looked up at Charlie, believing he’d be laughing with you too over the situation, only he didn’t seem amused at all. He wouldn’t even look up to meet your eyes.

His cold shouldered treatment continued into the next week as well. You figured things would just be as they were before as the last bell rang that following Monday. Before you had the chance to grab your things, Charlie had brushed past you, disappearing into the crowd of students in the hall.

You weren’t sure why it hurt your feelings so much. He didn’t owe you anything. You were perfectly capable of making it to the club without him. But still, you couldn’t help but feel anxious as the next few days unfolded in the same way. He’d barely look at you, let alone speak to you. You were trying to wrap your head around why he was acting this way. You had done anything wrong to your knowledge, but then again, maybe you had. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the matter, though. You had no idea what to say to him.

That following Friday, during your second to last period, your biology teacher announced the outline for the first heavily graded project of the semester. It was a group project. He’d assign the groups and specific topics each trio would be required to present. The classroom mumbled and huffed at the announcement.

You listened carefully as the teacher made his way down the list of students he held in his hands. You glanced around the room as the group of prospective partners grew smaller. You hoped you would be paired with people you at least vaguely knew.

The teacher then called your name. Your head snapped to meet his finger dragging across the list he held in his right hand. You waited intently for the next names to be called.

“You’ll be in a group with Mercer and Walker. Your topic is genetic pedigree.” You sunk down in your seat. Eyes flashing towards Robbie, who gave you a smile and thumbs up. You couldn’t bring yourself to look towards Charlie, who sat beside him.

You dropped your head into your hands, letting your hair cover your face. You knew you’d have to muster the courage to say something to Charlie. The project was important, and you didn’t want any made-up qualms to affect the way you all worked together.

As class concluded, Robbie stopped you in the Hallway. You watched Charlie walk past without looking behind him or waiting for his friend. You followed his frame carefully until losing him as he turned down the hall.

“Hey, if it’s alright, could I grab your number?” Robbie asked. You’d nearly forgotten he was standing there. “For the project, of course. We’ll have to work on it outside of school, and just if you- or I, have any questions..” You watched as his cheeks turned a soft shade of red.

You tried your best to give him a reassuring smile and nodded. “Of course Robbie, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Awesome!” He sighed in relief, handing you his cellphone to type in your contact information. “See you in film club?”

You nodded again, watching Robbie turn on his heels and vanish into the crowd of students headed towards their next class.

Your last class of the day felt like torment, the minutes passed by so incredibly slowly. It seemed as though the second hand on the clock was frozen in place as you waited and listened for each tick it made.

You could feel eyes stuck to you as you sat, unfurling the hem of your sweater. You glanced behind you. Charlie met your eyes, he was mimicking your own movements, heel tapping on the floor below him.

He looked absolutely miserable, pained even. He looked down at the ground as your eyes lingered for just a moment longer. You suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Maybe there was something going on with him completely outside of school, outside of you, and you had been so entirely selfish to believe his change in demeanor was a direct result of anything you had done.

You sat at your desk now braiding, unbraiding, and rebraiding the same three strands of hair near the front of your face. How could you have not attempted to reach out to him sooner? You felt like an absolutely sorry excuse for an acquaintance, let alone a friend.

You had your belongings packed and together before the final bell rang, you’d make sure to catch him this time. As soon as the clock rang to dismiss the class, you were up from your seat, headed to the doorway to catch him in the hall.

He was quick to step past you, head fixated on the crowd in front of him. You worked faster, grabbing the strap of his backpack and pulling him through the doorway of an empty adjoining classroom.

He looked shocked as he spun to face you, his mouth held agape, before snapping his lips into a tight line.

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, surprised even by your own hasty actions. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted them. What’s wrong with you? Really? There wasn’t a better way for you to ask what was going on? You silently scolded yourself.

“What?” He asked, taking an immediately defensive tone, understandably so.

“I mean, what is going on with you? Is everything okay? You’ve gone through quite the effort to act like I don’t exist this past week.” You replied, amending your original question.

He looked you over, scoffing. You brought your hands up over your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious.

“Look, if it’s attention you’re looking to get from somebody, don’t bother me about it.” He spoke just above a whisper, as if he could barely get his own words out.

His words made your eyes prick up. You felt your body heat flush as your jaw grew increasingly tense. What was wrong with him? His glare faltered for a moment, his hands dropping to his sides.

“I just mean…” He paused before continuing, “you’ve got Anderson. I don’t understand why you’d want me around.”

Your eyes widened in shock, realizing he hadn’t stuck around till the end of the conversation you had with Scotty the week prior. This was really the reason he had become so cold towards you? It was ridiculous. He was so-

You couldn’t hold back the astonished laughter, the absolute nerve. Charlie’s expression morphed into confusion. He seemed almost hurt to have you laughing in his face. Good.

“You really thought I wanted anything to do with that asshole? I didn’t even give him my number.” You exclaimed, throwing your hands back towards your thighs.

Charlie’s face bore the full front of sudden guilt. Your hurt turned to anger. He could’ve asked, but he just assumed. Even then, what issue could he possibly take with you speaking to or seeing another man?

You took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. Charlie took a deep breath, eyes glancing between you and the pointer finger you now dug into his chest.

“I thought you were a friend, you fucking prick.” You whispered just beside his ear. You could feel his heartbeat wildly pound against your finger, could nearly hear it from the proximity you shared. Or maybe that was your own heart you were hearing. You couldn’t have been sure.

Before giving him a chance to respond, you stormed your way out of the room. Making a beeline to your car.

Fuck. Fuck that stupid fucking film club. And fuck Charlie Walker.

You sped home, slamming the front door behind you. You rushed up the stairs, hearing your aunt call your name from the living room. You stopped in your tracks, shouting down to her, “I’m fine, I promise. Just need a moment alone.”

You waited for a second to hear her response. You were surprised she was home from work so early. After a few moments, Irina responded, “Okay.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced, but knew better than to pry.

You shut your bedroom door, falling flat onto your bed. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. You didn’t need him around.

An hour passed by, and then another before you heard your phone ringer buzz twice.

You scrambled for your phone, which was still in your bag on the ground beside your bed where you had thrown it earlier.

Two text messages from an unknown number flashed on the screen.

“Hey, didn’t see you in film club. Everything good?” Your heart skipped in your chest. Could it be-? Your question was answered by the second message. “Robbie btw.”

You sighed, rolling onto your back, holding the phone above your face. You thought for a moment before responding. “Wasn’t feeling well, all good, though.” You added Robbie’s name to his contact info before setting the phone down beside you.

Another minute passed before your phone buzzed again. “Cool. Would you be down to meet up later to start on our project?” Robbie’s message read.

You thought about it for a moment. The idea didn’t seem particularly great, but it would be nice to just get it all over with. You responded with a simple, “Sure.”

Almost instantly, a new message was sent. You opened it to find another phone number beside Robbies. In a new group chat Robbie asked, “Where and what time do you guys wanna meet up?” The other number had to be Charlies. You rolled your eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Your fingers hovered above the keyboard as you thought up a response. You knew Irina would be more than happy to host, and it’d save you a trip from going elsewhere in town.

“My place, 7pm?” You replied.

“We’ll be there.” Robbie responded.

You sent your address to the pair and locked your phone, shoving it in your back pocket.

You figured it was time to face your aunt, let her know people would be coming by the house later. You called out to her, hearing her reply from her bedroom. You stopped in her doorway, watching her pack clothing into a small black suitcase.

“Where are you going?” You asked, walking up beside her.

She looked up from her work. “I have a few meetings in Sacramento this weekend. I fly out tomorrow morning. I should be back by Monday though.” You nodded your head in response. She was always so busy, always had places to be.

“I’m sorry for slamming the door earlier.” You said quietly, picking up a t-shirt on the bed and folding it over for her.

Your aunt looked over at you, waiting to see if you’d continue.

“I’m okay. I just-” You paused, trying to find the right words. The entire thing wasn’t really worth getting into or being upset about, as you thought about it.

Irina’s eyebrow raised. “Boy troubles?” She said half-jokingly.

You smiled then, handing her the folded shirt. Yes, to put it plainly, just boy troubles.

“You know what I think about men,” Irina began.

“Better off without them.” You answered in unison, laughing with one another.

You stopped in the doorway, hand wrapped around the frame as you left Irina’s bedroom. “Oh, by the way, I’m having a few people over in a couple of hours to work on a project for school. If that’s okay, of course.”

Irina peered over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face. “Of course. Let me know if you kids need anything.”

It was hard to keep your nerves in check as the next few hours passed by. It would be fine, you reminded yourself over and over again. It wasn’t going to just be you and Charlie. Robbie would serve as a much needed buffer.

You heard your phone buzz on your nightstand; you picked it up quickly, reading the message aloud. “Pulling up now.” You quickly made your way down the stairs, kicking a pair of your shoes further down the entryway.

You swung the front door open without recalling whether you had heard a knock yet. You were met by Robbie and Charlie on the front porch. Charlie’s head was towards the ground, his hands in his pocket. Robbie looked around himself, mouth agape.

“You were totally right dude,” Robbie said, elbowing his friend in the side. “This was her house.”

“What?” You asked from the doorway, not sure you had heard him right. Robbie looked flustered, as if he were surprised to see you standing there.

“Oh. I meant Charlie recognized you on the first day.” Robbie tried to clear the confusion by simply adding to it. You looked between the pair. Robbie immediately cowered in response to Charlie’s shocked glare.

You waited for Robbie to continue. You couldn’t possibly understand what he meant by that. To your knowledge, you had never met either of them before that first day of school.

“Charlie’d make me ride circles down your street for hours. He said you had to be the same girl we saw when we were kids. We totally thought you just died one day after you stopped appearing in the window every summer.” Robbie said laughing, pointing at the sun bay window.

You were frozen in place; the air seemed to be sucked out around you as you thought hard back on those memories. Certain things suddenly started to click and piece themselves together in your mind. You glanced over at Charlie. He was looking at you almost pathetically, knowing there was nothing he could have done to stop Robbie from spilling any of that information.

Robbie began a string of ‘I’s and Um’s’ as he noticed your expression. You willed yourself to pull it together for a moment; lesson the deafening, horrible ringing in your ears.

“Oh, I think I remember you two, actually.” You stated. You had always had a distinct memory that fell in line with Robbie’s sentiment. You weren’t sure you’d have ever been able to place them both in that memory without Robbie’s over-share. You’d let yourself process this information at a later time. You watched as both boys relaxed a bit more into themselves, awkward glances still passed between the three of you.

“Would you guys like to come in?” You stepped aside, motioning towards the entryway.

“Please.” Robbie replied and stepped past you.

Charlie nodded, following behind him. You caught and held his gaze for a moment as he slipped in so close beside you.

“We can just hang out in the living room, if that’s cool.” You said, motioning towards the living room couch. The two men followed suit. You took a seat on the sofa, Robbie sat on the opposite end, while Charlie took a seat on the floor by the coffee table in front of you.

It was quiet for a moment as everyone pulled out their laptops, notebooks, and pens. You weren’t sure who would be the first one to break the silence. To be completely honest, you didn’t mind it. You were terrified that Robbie would somehow dig himself another hole, and you had absolutely nothing to say to Charlie. You hoped you’d be able to just get the majority of the project finished tonight so that the remaining meetings would be minimal.

Just then, you heard your aunt’s light footsteps coming from down the stairs. You sighed a heavy sigh of relief as she entered the living room. She wore a bright smile on her face as the boys rose to their feet to greet her.

“Robbie Mercer.” He held out a hand to her. “Good to meet you, Robbie.” She replied in her usual sing-song voice.

Her smile faltered for a moment as she turned to shake Charlie’s hand as well. “Charlie Walker, thanks for allowing us over.” Charlie said, giving her a courteous smile.

You looked between your aunt and Charlie, watching the corner of her lips twitch into a small frown before she replied. She looked almost off kilter. You took careful notice of your aunt’s unusual etiquette. “Anytime, Charlie.” She replied, placing her left hand over their conjoined right hands.

The gesture didn’t seem to phase Charlie much.

“If there’s anything I can get for you all, please don’t be afraid to ask.” Irina spoke before heading back up the stairs. The three of you responded in a short chorus of ‘thank you’s.’

The next few hours went by as well as you could have hoped for them to go. Once you were all busy at work, the awkwardness slowly dispelled itself. It was nearly midnight, and you were all beginning to experience the early stages of screen fatigue from your work. You all mutually decided to try to wrap everything up tomorrow.

As you led the two out, Robbie spoke over his shoulder. “I honestly think it’ll only take another day to finish this. Maybe one more after that for revision.” You and Charlie both nodded. “But, honestly, if I have looked at another fucking punnet square after this project, I think I’ll kill myself.”

You laughed as you turned the door handle.

The boys filed onto the porch. Robbie was quick to make his way towards his car that was parked halfway in the driveway and halfway onto the street. He stopped after realizing Charlie was still standing on the porch. You glanced between the pair.

“You coming man?” Robbie asked, fishing for his keys in his back pocket.

You watched Charlie, waiting for his response.

“Nah, I feel like walking.” He responded.

Robbie cocked an eyebrow, looking at his friend. He seemed slightly surprised, but didn’t bother trying to convince him to come along.

“Alright, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Robbie said, as he opened his driver’s side door. You watched him pull all the way down the street before turning around to face the closed front door. Your hand had just started turning the handle when you heard Charlie speak up.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” You turned your face, dropping the handle.

You really had almost no interest in anything he had to say at all, at this point.

“Make it quick.” You replied, stepping in front of him. Your words clearly hurt him, and he did little to hide his grimace.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He started softly, eyes flickering between your own. You sucked in your bottom lip, leaning on your hip as you crossed your arms in front of you. You scanned his face in search of sincerity.

“It’s fine, Charlie. It’s done with.” You replied.

He took a step closer to you. You fought the urge to take another back, to keep just a bit more distance from him. You held your ground.

“No, I’m being serious. It was horrible for me to just assume…” his voice trailed off for a moment. He glanced behind you at the window bay to your left. He met your eyes again. “And the whole attention thing. I never really felt that way. Regretted it as soon as I said it.” His hand flexed at his side as he shook his head.

“Okay.” You replied breathlessly. It was all you wanted him to say. You both stood there for a moment. The sound of crickets filled the air. There always seemed to be something filling in the lapse of conversation you had with Charlie, in a way you had never noticed with anyone else before.

You were the one to speak up. “I can give you a ride home if you’d like.”

A small smile crept up his lips as he followed your gesture towards your car parked in the driveway.

“It’s alright. Thank you for the offer. I just live on the next street over.” He motioned towards the road.

“It’s really not any trouble…” you began. You weren’t sure why you felt such a need to insist.

He reached up then. His thumb ran across the small braid in your hair that had been forgotten about and left to slowly unravel since last period. You left out a breath of surprise at the sudden contact. He was so incredibly close. That pounding in your heart returned rapidly as your hands dropped to your side.

Your eyes darted wildly across the features of his face. His eyes were stuck on those strands of hair between his fingers.

There were no more crickets, no rushing blood, just silence.

He had pulled away before you could process the proximity. He was headed down the front porch steps in a matter of seconds. “Goodnight, I’ll see you here tomorrow.” He called, turning over his shoulder to say goodbye.

You refused to let yourself watch him make his way down the street. Your feet carried you mindlessly up the stairs until collapsing you onto your bed. You stared up at the ceiling, reaching for the disheveled braid. Your fingers traced themselves along the same spot he had. You had just about pulled the braid apart when your aunt called your name from the doorway.

You shot up in bed to face her, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Didn’t mean to surprise you,” Irina began. Her face was splotchy and red in ways that it never was. “I just wanted to tell you goodbye, in case I didn’t get the chance to before I left in the morning.”

You nodded in response. You rose onto your feet, walking over to give her a hug. You pulled away as she began to speak up again. “He looks so much like him.” Irina seemed to say more to herself than you.

“Hmm?” You urged her to explain what she meant.

“The Walker boy. He looks so much like his father had at that age.” She began trailing off, looking at the wall behind you before meeting your eyes again.

“You knew his father?” You asked. This shouldn’t have been surprising information to you, Irina seemed to know everybody who had spent any amount of considerable time in Woodsboro.

Irina nodded.

“Just be kind to him, if you can be.” She said so softly, you barely caught her last words. This took you aback. You were sure your confusion was apparent on your face. “It’s only been a few years since he passed. I’m sure it’s been difficult for Charlie.”

Her amending statement made your heart sink low into your chest. A resounding buzz quickly filled the space between your ears.

“I am.” You replied. You thought you were, at least.

Irina nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. She turned to make her way to her own bedroom at the end of the hall. Just before she disappeared through the door, you called out to her.

“How? How did he die?” You asked. You immediately felt bad for even asking. It wasn’t necessarily anything you needed to know.

You could tell, even from where you stood, that your aunt’s eyes began to well with tears. “Suicide,” she whispered without looking back at you. It only took a single moment before Irina stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

You weren’t sure how long you stood stuck in the hallway. It was a horribly long night.

#fanfiction #fanfic #charlie walker #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x y/n #scream 4 fanfic #charlie walker smut #rory culkin fanfic #rory culkin fanfiction

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heich0e · 8 months

Text

begin - nicholas wolfwood/f!reader (trigun) prequel to the poly!au, bounty hunters!au, wild west-ish, tw BLOOD/INJURIES, reader is patching up a bullet wound so warning for all the expected nastiness that entails, tw mentions of attemped assault (not reader and not in detail), mentions of sex work, gratuitous mentions of nico's stubble

BOUND - poly!au masterlist

You live in a nothing town, in the dead middle of nowhere, called The Bend.

It’s called that because a long time ago—long before your days, or your daddy’s days, or even your granddaddy’s days—there used to be a wide, rushing freshwater river snaking through the valley, and right where the town centre now sits is where it used to turn east to the far-away sea.

But the river’s dried up now, and it took the green grass with it.

The sea is farther than you could ever hope to travel.

And the B on the sign that marks the border into your dusty little nothing-nowhere town has rusted off and decayed away with the years, which means the only warning that any misguided traveller has to tell them where they’re heading is an ominous old sign, half-rotted, that reads:

Welcome to The end.

It’s fitting, you think. An omen to give anyone who wanders within spitting distance of the border a final caution that they have one last chance to turn around. A choice to get out while they still can.

It’s a choice you never had.

You were born and raised in The Bend. Your blood runs thick with the dust that coats the decrepit old town. It’s all you’ve ever known, and all you ever will know; your beginning, your middle, and your miserable, inexorable end.

Because that’s the thing about The Bend: few people ever show up here and those who do aren’t stupid enough to stay. And the unfortunate few that are born from the dusty earth and dried up riverbeds, like you? Well, those ones never leave.

There’s some comfort to be taken from that, you suppose; a kind of stability that comes from monotony. From certain inevitability. Every day the same, unchanging. A familiarity to the nothingness of your little town, your little house, your little life.

But then, on a night just like any other, something changes.

One night, you meet him.

Nicholas isn’t quite sure how he ended up here, but he isn’t all that surprised either.

There’s something kind of undeniably fitting about bleeding out in the middle of fucking nowhere, supported on either side by two of the finest prostitutes The Bend has to offer—and flanked by a handful more as the group guides him through the dark, dusty night.

The Bend isn’t the first hellhole town Nicholas has ever stumbled into. His line of work has brought him to more than his fair share of seedy dumps just like this one. Towns like this are the perfect place for someone to hide from the law after all, because not many people would bother to come looking for you in places that might as well not exist. Most bounty hunters don’t even know about this particular town, and they don’t care to learn, especially since half the maps on the market don’t even bother marking its sorry half-existence down.

But Nicholas isn’t like most bounty hunters.

That’s what brought him to The Bend.

There’s a vicious flash of lightning that suddenly forks through the sky overhead, lighting up the dim, depressing town and the dusty valley beyond it as brightly as the midday sun for just a blink. It’s followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that makes the packed earth under his unsteady feet tremble, and Nicholas knows that means the lightning’s closer than he cares for it to be.

“’s it gonna rain?” he slurs, tearing his eyes away from the sky and looking over to the woman supporting him on his right (or is that his left?)

He wracks his hazy, addled brain as he tries to remember her name. Starts with a V, he’s pretty sure. Victoria? Viola?

She snorts, her ruby rouged lips lifting at one painted corner. “Honey, it’s been almost five months since we’ve seen a drop of rain around here, and even then it was nothin’ to write home about. You just focus on puttin’ one boot in front of the other, and don’t go gettin’ your hopes up.”

All at once, Nicholas is reminded of the burning pain in his arm; the searing, radiating agony of a bullet nestled deep into flesh.

Oh. Right.

He got shot.

It’s not the first time he’s suffered a similar wound, nor will it likely be the last if he makes it through the night—God, or whatever all-knowing bastard’s out there, willing. That doesn’t make it any less of a miserable bitch to deal with, though.

How the hell did he get shot, again?

He ponders this question for a moment, reflecting on it through alcohol sodden introspection, and the answer comes back to him in bits and pieces as he keeps aimlessly shuffling along through the night.

The sound of heels clicking overhead at the town saloon—that’s the first thing he remembers. The clacking metronome of Big Annie’s working girls crossing the wooden floorboards of the brothel that operates above the only place in this awful little town to get a half-decent drink.

A drink.

Yes, it was something bitter and dark—completely nauseating to presently even think about. It burned on the way down, and now it sloshes unpleasantly in his stomach as he walks. The girls had made him down the better part of a bottle after he’d been shot—to help with the pain, they’d said, and he’d been anything but reluctant to heed their advice—and he’d already had fair a few glasses earlier in the evening as he’d occupied his table in the corner of the bar on top of that. Panic had palpably sizzled between the women while they watched the tattered cloth Nicholas held to his arm ink steadily darker with scarlet in the lamplight of the old bar following the shooting—the tension building amongst them like the perspiration beading at his temple. They were bickering about something then.

No, not something.

Someone.

“We gotta take him to see Mama!”

It was Charity who said that, he recalls—the pretty little thing with full lips and a mane of thick, curly hair that Nicholas had complimented the first time he ever saw her traipsing through the saloon. She can’t be a whole lot older than 20, and her voice is still high and childlike; even more so that particular evening as she stomped her foot petulantly, looking over at him with worry-filled eyes as she made her plea to the other girls watching him bleed out in the musty wooden booth.

“Mama won't want anything to do with this one.”

That was Violetta who’d replied to Charity’s fractious appeal. She’s one of the older girls who works for Big Annie at the brothel. She’s got a sort of seasoned air to her, with a husky rasp in her voice—like the sand that blows through the empty streets in town has roughened it. She’s still undeniably pretty, but she comes across a little tougher than the rest of them. Doing the job she does in a town like this one, Nicholas doesn’t blame her for it.

Violetta’s the one currently supporting his right side, leading him through the night towards the woman who’s supposed to be his saving grace.

Towards Mama.

But who the hell is that?

He’s sure he’s heard the name in passing while he’s been kicking around the town saloon between his work, nursing half-noxious drinks and flirting harmlessly here and there with Big Annie’s working girls—who seem to have taken a liking to lingering around his table between visits from johns.

Nicholas wasn’t even supposed to be staying in The Bend long, only for a day or two to follow up on a bounty lead he’d caught wind of three towns over—but the lead went cold, and a few days turned into almost a week. Nevertheless, while his stay may have been extended, he just he never thought to ask any more questions about this mysterious matriarch all the working girls seemed to know so well and speak so highly of. But now, as those very same girls are dragging his half-conscious ass to the other side of town in search of this Mama, he wishes that maybe he’d dug a little deeper.

“Mama’s gonna get you all fixed up, handsome,” little Charity appears on Violetta’s other side, her eyes wide enough as she stares at him that they reflect the next flash of lightning as it rips through the dark of night. She looks worried, in spite of her words—even in his present state of drunkenness and blood loss fuelled delirium, he can tell that much.

They all do. Even the toughest, Violetta—though she seems reluctant to let on as she stands stoically at his side and shoulders his flagging, stumbling weight.

Charity nods, but it’s a gesture that seems more to reassure herself than anyone else. “Mama always takes care of us; she’ll have you good as new by morning.”

Ah, so this woman must be a doctor of sorts—or as close to it as a shithole little town like this can offer.

It’s Nicholas’ turn to nod, a bobble of his cotton-filled head the only recognition he can muster to her words, as he just keeps staggering on under their guidance. He’s lucky that The Bend even has some kind of doctor to look after him, even if it’s just some old lady who looks after the saloon girls.

The unlikely group soon arrives at the doorstep of a little house at the edge of town—as slummy and dilapidated as all the rest of them—and Queenie, the girl who’d moments before been supporting Nicholas’s injured left side, raps sharply on the door.

“She’s not gonna answer,” Violetta mutters dourly under her breath, still at Nicholas’ right side.

“She will,” Charity counters with her arms crossed over her chest, punctuating the assertion with an indignant little huff for good measure. “Mama always answers when we come knockin’.”

But Nicholas worries for a moment—a long moment as the door stays firmly shut—that Violetta might just have a point. It’s the middle of the night after all, and this ‘Mama’ could very well be sleeping like any other reasonable person would be at this hour.

Queenie knocks on the wooden door for a second time, this time with an open palm. This series of raps is a little louder. A little more insistent.

“Mama? It’s us! Open up!” she calls, casting a worried glance over her shoulder at Nicholas—who’s got his entire weight slumped over onto poor Violetta, now.

Nicholas is bleeding out on the front porch, and part of him still almost feels bad for waking up some poor, unsuspecting old—

The door flies open.

“What the hell do you want?”

Oh.

Nicholas knows that his eyes travel up your frame in a way that can only be considered wholly impolite. But he’s not really in his right mind, after all—or at least that’s what he tells himself as he justifies his immodest stare. He starts at the uneven cuffs of your paper-thin trousers, before climbing up, up, up your body to the tight white undershirt your wear—appreciating the way it clings to the curve of your waist and sits snug around your chest, and he particularly admires the pretty little edge of lace that frills around the neckline at your breasts. Finally, his gaze makes it to your face, and you look irritated to say the absolute least on the matter.

He’s not all that sure what he was expecting to find on the other side of the chipped paint of this shabby front door, but he can say with a steady hand to his foolhardy heart that it certainly wasn’t you.

For a moment, Nicholas is convinced they’ve got the wrong house—as improbable as that might be in a town as small as this one. At the very least, he waits for someone else to come to the door—a mother, or grandmother even—because surely you can’t be the one that these women have been calling—

“Mama! You gotta help us,” Queenie exclaims. She’s luckily perceptive enough to stick out her foot once she sees you fully process just what’s waiting for you outside, keeping the door jammed open with her heeled boot as you rush to slam it shut.

“I haven’t gotta do anything,” you counter sharply from around the edge of the door, your face pinching in a blatantly vexed expression at the way the woman is keeping it ajar.

Your eyes flicker over to Nicholas through the gap between the door and its frame, surveying him with a look of disdain that might just have been enough to offend him if he were a little more himself.

“Mama, he got shot!” Charity suddenly bursts into what can only be described as a spectacular display of tears—blubbering noisily between each word as she elbows her way through the group towards your door. She reaches across the threshold and desperately clutches at the front of your shirt with both hands as she pleads to you. “P-please let us in, y-you’re the only one who can h-he-help him.”

“Bertie, what in God’s merciful name is wrong with you?” you sigh aggrievedly, roughly batting her hands away from their grip on your clothes. In the next breath, you wrench open the front door to your home, stepping back to allow your unexpected visitors the space to cross through the doorway. “And cut the waterworks or you’re gonna wake up half The Bend and get us all shot.”

As the girls help Nicholas inside and across the gnarled, warped floorboards of your little house, you slip wordlessly away into another room out of sight. When you return moments later, you’ve pulled on a creased button-down over that pretty little undershirt of yours.

Nicholas can’t help but notice that you’re dressed practically like a man, especially in comparison to the painted faces and petticoats of the other women in the room. But it strangely suits you, for reasons he can’t quite place.

“He got shot fightin’ some bozo tryin’ to rough up Ada on her way home,” Violetta explains when you look to her with an expression that demands context. She’s the most level-headed of the five woman gathered in your tiny home, so no one can blame you for turning to her first.

Nicholas feels dizzy, the modest lamp-lit room around him reeling like a child’s toy spinning top gaining speed.

Did he do that?

He remembers hearing something out back in the alley that runs behind the saloon and the inn when he went out to take a piss late into to the evening, well after it had dropped dark. He was already sufficiently drunk by that point, but there was no mistaking the sound of a woman putting up a fight the moment that he heard it. He followed the racket and found the pair quickly—on instinct more than anything—grabbing the drunken man by the scruff of the neck and hauling him off the poor girl he was trying to force himself on. In the ensuing scuffle, the man pulled a gun that Nicholas wasn’t expecting. With his senses drink-dulled, he didn’t react quickly enough to miss the shot entirely and caught it in his arm—but he’s lucky the guy had such terrible aim to begin with, or the night could have turned out a whole lot worse.

But who’s this Ada? He thought the girl he’d helped’s name was Priscilla—having met her a few times in the saloon. She was always quieter than the rest of them, a little more reserved. She didn’t say much to anyone from what Nicholas had witnessed in his time spent in The Bend. But Ada’s not the first name he’s heard since showing up at your door that’s unfamiliar to him.

“You've got a lot of nerve dragging some no-good, half-cocked brute to my door like this in the middle of the damn night, Sarah Jane,” you hiss through your teeth, your eyes flickering from Violetta over to Nicholas once more.

Violetta snorts, but offers no argument.

“Please, Mama,” Priscilla (or is it Ada? Nicholas can’t keep track anymore) says quietly, though her tone is unmistakably earnest. It’s the first time she’s said anything since the girls came stumbling through your door with the injured man propped between them. First time he remembers her saying anything at all—at least other than when he heard her screaming and chased off the scum that was hassling her.

Your attention suddenly turns to where Priscilla stands just off near the corner of the little room, with Theodosia (another one of Big Annie’s working girls) at her side with a comforting arm looped around her waist. It’s not hard to see the way the woman trembles as she holds her shawl around her shoulders. She’s got a bad scrape across her cheek, and her lip is split—evidence of the ordeal she’d gone through earlier in the evening. Her skin still looks clammy and sallow from the shock.

Your expression softens as you contemplate her.

“C’mere, Adaline,” you beckon to her, reaching out a hand. “Step into the light and let me take a look at you.”

She approaches you without any reservation, and you carefully inspect her wounds after taking her face gently in your hands. A long, resigned sigh slips from your lips once a moment has passed, having turned her face this way and that to fully scrutinize her condition. You look around at the women gathered in your home, and the man slumping between them, then your head hangs in defeat. Your hand lifts to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Bertie, go grab my bag from my room. Georgie, fetch some clean water from the basin in the kitchen.”

Charity and Theodosia move briskly once you’ve issued the order—like they don’t want to give you the opportunity to change your mind.

Nicholas finds it a little funny how easily these women yield to you, though most seem to be your seniors—you’re just a scrappy young thing, only a few years into your adulthood if he had to guess. As he watches you, he sees that you carry yourself with a certain quality that’s beyond your years—every action and word steeped with a sort of weary assuredness that you haven’t even lived long enough to properly earn.

He watches you move with the grace of a woman, and listens to you speak with the authority of a man—and It could be the blood loss talking, but Nicholas thinks you might just be the most interesting thing he’s stumbled upon in this god-forsaken little town.

“You’re a doctor?”

You freeze, your head snapping in his direction when you finally hear him speak.

Your lip curls and you bare your teeth to him, and Nicholas is suddenly reminded of those city cats that wander the back alleys in Julai, hissing with their hackles raised when you happen across their path.

“Do I look like a doctor to you?” you sneer at him derisively.

For some unplaceable reason, Nicholas almost wants to laugh—the sensation bubbling up in his stomach in the wake of your harsh words.

(Though, that might just be the liquor.)

“Her daddy was a doctor,” Queenie whispers to him quietly as she and Violetta help Nicholas up onto the wooden table at the centre of the room at your instruction, leaning him back until he’s laid flat across it with a grunt. “Only one The Bend’s seen in the last 80 years."

“Prudence, you better shut your damn mouth if you want me to do anything about this mess,” you snap without looking up, busy rifling through the ancient leather medicine bag that Charity just dragged in from the other room.

You tend to Priscilla first, fixing her up with a compress on her cheek and a salve for the cut on her lip. She’s not the most desperate case in the room, but no one tries to turn your attention to the man on the table until you’re good and ready to do so of your own accord—a unanimous, though entirely unspoken, pact of silence lest your precarious agreement to help be withdrawn. Once you’re satisfied that the woman’s been sufficiently looked after, leaving her once more in the dutiful care of Theodosia, you finally turn to Nicholas.

The lamplight is fairly dim, even though you’ve moved it closer to the table to help illuminate your work—and there’s very little oil in the grimy reservoir of the glass lamp to keep it burning.

You approach him slowly.

“You a lefty?” you ask him, plunking yourself down in the wooden chair nearest to his injured left arm.

“Luckily not,” he slurs, his head lolling over to look at you as you sit beside him at the table.

“Luckily?” You huff, and Nicholas thinks that maybe it’s as close to a laugh as someone as mirthless as you ever gets. “You must not’ve heard: luck left The Bend years ago, and it’s not coming back.”

Nicholas really does find himself laughing then in the face of your plain, bur distinctly dour expression—and he immediately winces as a sharp pain shoots through him from the strain of trying to hold it back.

Your eyes survey the sopping, blood-soaked handkerchief he’s holding to his injury, then you lean over towards the medicine bag and begin digging through it again. He watches as you pull out an inhumanely large needle and some thread.

“Clear out, ladies,” you remark flatly to the group of onlookers without glancing up from the contents of the bag before you. “None of you are gonna wanna see this.”

The girls delay momentarily even after you bark out the order, as though worried that once they leave the room your willingness to help may exit with them.

You lift your face in their direction, some gauze and a corked flask of an indistinguishable transparent liquid in hand. Your lips pull down noticeably at the corners when you see the way the women are hesitating. “Go on, then. I’m making this exception for you once, and never again. Get Ada back home safe, and then the rest of you oughta do the same.”

Still, no one seems keen to heed your words.

You and Violetta share a pointed look, and it’s clear your patience—hardly-there to begin with—has worn dangerously thin.

“Alright, whores—clear out!” the older woman says, turning on her heel and corralling Queenie, Charity, Priscilla, and Theodosia towards the door with her arms outstretched. “Unless one of y’all are keen to be the next one who needs stitchin'!”

It takes a moment to get everyone moving—Charity in particular putting up more of a fight than the rest of them—but eventually Violetta succeeds in ushering them out. She casts one final glance back from the doorway, and Nicholas catches the exchange of almost imperceptible nods of thanks between you.

It’s unbearably quiet once they’re gone.

You move swiftly but silently, and set to work without a single word exchanged between you and the man stretched across your table. Without hesitating, you drag a thin blade in two strokes up the front of Nicholas’s bloodstained shirt—one cut along the torso and then another up the sleeve—and then pull off whatever’s in your way. You don’t so much as bat an eye as the tanned skin of his chest and abdomen is suddenly bared; there’s no distinguishable emotion or thought on your face that Nicholas can make out, but he’s also fairly distracted as he bites back the groans of pain that threaten to slip out each time you jostle his injured arm too roughly.

Next, you begin cleaning the surface of the wound—as best you can given that it’s still unstitched—in preparation to fish out and remove the bullet still stuck inside. That little flask from earlier has some sort of antiseptic in it, which Nicholas discerns by the acrid smell and unbearable burning that rips through him as you let it trickle over the open gouge in his skin. He cries out as it happens, and the sound even takes him by surprise—guttural and completely instinctive.

“Don’t be a baby,” you sniff, dabbing away at the blood and antiseptic around his wound with some clean gauze.

“Sorry,” Nicholas mumbles through his panting breaths, pressing his opposite hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep himself quiet.

Your eyes flicker up to his briefly in the wake of his apology, and your gazes meet. You’re the first to look away after the momentary hold.

Next, you tip the flask into your hands, coating your palms in the stinging, astringent antiseptic. The lamplight catches in the little droplets as you shake them from your fingertips.

“My daddy told me once that doctors have to tell lies to keep their patients calm,” you say quietly, your lips pursing forward as you wrap one cool hand underneath his bicep. “Said that it’s just part of the job.”

You suck in a little breath, meeting his gaze briefly once more.

He can’t help but think your eyes look pretty when the light reflects in them like this.

“But I’m no doctor—and this is gonna hurt like fresh hell.”

Outside your rickety little house on the edge of this forgotten, nowhere town, another peal of thunder roars.

You don’t often patch up bullet holes.

In fact, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve tried.

But you’re not a professional, and you’ve never claimed to be; you’re just a doctor’s daughter who used to follow her father on his rounds through town, helping out whenever and wherever it was needed. Unavoidably, you learned some things along the way—like treatments, and time-honoured remedies, and how to sew a stitch so it won’t pucker when it scars—but you’re about as far as anyone could be from trained. You’ve got no education beyond your reading, writing, and basic arithmetic—what little education the school house in town could offer you until you just stopped going altogether—and your experience is limited only to the care you offer to Big Annie’s girls: whether it’s cleaning up the messes left by their particularly nasty customers or treating them as best you can when they fall ill.

You don’t bother telling any of this to the man bleeding all over your table, though. You doubt it would do him much good.

Daddy used to deal with gunshot wounds all the time. They’re about a dime a dozen in a town like The Bend, after all, where tempers are high and spirits are low—not to mention where the men outnumber the women by about ten-to-one.

And if there’s one thing you know about men, it’s that they all love slinging guns but less than half of them ought to be allowed to—because it always leads to injuries like this. It’s rarely ever women who walk around town getting themselves shot.

But in spite of all that, and your lack of experience, you watched your father go through the motions frequently enough that the movements come to you now like second nature: disinfect, remove, keep pressure, suture, bandage. You know the order of things, and you find your mind clear and your hands steady as you set to work—starting by cleaning him up as best you can to prepare to extract the bullet.

You can see the very butt of it in peeking out from inside his ugly wound; a pesky little thing, slick with blood that catches in the light when his arm twitches towards the lamp. It’s not nestled too deep in there, thankfully, and he’ll probably be fine if he lets it heal properly—but it’ll still hurt like a bitch to pull out.

But that’s his problem, not yours.

Unfortunately, you don’t have a pair of tweezers you trust to pluck the bullet out—at least not a pair that isn’t rusty—so your god-given tools will have to be what you use for the undertaking. You disinfect your hands as best you can before you begin.

“Would you stop squirming?” you mutter under your breath as the man on your table flinches the first time your fingers graze his open wound.

“Sorry,” he mumbles back, and your eyes flicker up to his face again briefly.

This man keeps apologizing to you.

It’s unsettling.

His dark eyes are heavy lidded, but you can still sense them tracing along the lines of your face as you work. There’s visible sweat beading at his temple as he lies flat on his back atop the wooden table in the centre of your home, and his bare chest rises and falls with heavy, laboured breaths that shake every so often on the exhale—the lamplight at your side catches in the perspiration glistening there too, near the little smattering of hair that sits at the highest point of his sternum.

This guy—this stranger who’s bleeding all over the table you eat your meals on—really pisses you off.

He’s got an awful lot of nerve to show up here in the middle of the night, looking for your help after he went and got himself shot. A small part of you knows that’s not entirely fair to think, because he got shot helping Adaline and it was the girls who’d brought him to you in the first place, but you still can’t help but be resentful.

You feel yourself frown.

Your fingertips dip inside the wet heat of his wound for the first time, and he lets out a gasping, wretched groan from deep in the centre of his chest—so loud it almost makes you flinch.

“Don’t pass out,” you warn him flatly, pinning his injured arm more firmly to the table and prodding further in as you try to get a grip on the evasive little bullet with the very tips of your fingers. “You’re dead weight if you’re unconscious, and I’ll drag you outta this house in parts if I have to.”

“Noted,” the dark-haired man says through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he attempts to stomach the pain.

You don’t have anything to offer him to dull the sensation—though you’re not sure you’d waste something so precious on him even if you did. After a while, and a bit more poking and prodding, he seems to acclimatize to the agony anyway.

Or at the very least he gets better at masking it.

“I’m Nicholas, by the way,” he grits out after a while of you unsuccessfully trying to remove the bullet—frequently having to pause and wipe away the blood that’s continued to seep from the wound, slicking you down to your wrist. It stains the cuff of your shirtsleeve now, and you regret ever pulling it on to begin with, because you know it will be a nightmare to pound out in the wash.

“Didn’t ask.”

“I know,”—miraculously, he manages to laugh a bit, even as you’ve got two fingers digging around inside his arm—“just thought I’d tell ya anyway.”

You don’t bother replying, your eyes honed in solely on the task at bloody hand.

“‘M grateful for your help, y’know. Even if it’s just an exception,” the man—Nicholas—slurs next, his head tipping to the side on your kitchen table. You can tell that he’s talking, if nothing else, to distract himself. A lonely bead of sweat drips down his throat as he looks at you. “It’s awfully nice of ya to take pity on a no-good brute like me, Mama.”

You feel a crick of irritation tighten in your jaw then, as he parrots your earlier words back to you. Your fingers, still poking around to retrieve the bullet in his shoulder, twitch—and you aren’t sure the gesture is entirely involuntary. The man on the table before you yelps, flinching away from the pain, and you lean closer with your eyes still fixed on the wound piercing his skin.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss through the dull scrape of your teeth grinding tightly together.

Nicholas lifts his right hand to his mouth, curled into a fist, and his pearly teeth bite down hard into the flesh at the base of his thumb as he pants through the pain. You finally, mercifully, manage to get a grip on that damned bullet, plucking it out and tossing it into the waiting dish atop the table with a delicate, terribly anticlimactic clink. You swiftly press a pad of clean gauze to the wound to staunch the bleeding while you reach for the stitching needle you left set off to the side.

“Hold this,” you order him, and the man lets his hand slip from the bite of his jaw to do as he’s told while you rifle through the bag at your feet. You can see the marks his teeth left in his skin as he takes the gauze from your hand into his own and begins to apply pressure.

You stand and wash your hands off as best you can in the basin of water Georgie brought in for you earlier, poised at the end of the table. The liquid tints pink as you first dip them in, and then slowly it turns an even darker, uglier colour as you properly scrub his blood from your skin. You shake as much of the water off your hands as you can, and then use the front of your shirt to sop up the rest—faintly rust-tinged handprints left in the cotton.

You take your seat once more, and Nicholas watches you through mostly-closed eyes as you set about sterilizing the needle.

“How come I can’t call you that?”

You light a candle using the lamp at your side. Then you swish the needle around in antiseptic before running it through the flickering flame until it sparks—careful not to let it lick too close to your fingertips. Your eyes slide over to Nicholas as you pluck it from the fire.

With his face tilted towards you, another little drop of sweat has tracked down his cheek towards his prominent nose, and it glistens against his flushing skin in the warm light of your oil lamp. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, too—from what you don’t doubt is the combination of pain and whatever booze he’s been guzzling to numb it—and lips part on a shuddering exhalation as you survey his face.

“Call me what?” you mutter, averting your eyes and turning again to search through your medicine bag for a clean roll of bandage.

“Ma—” A sudden, harsh glare cuts him off before he even has the chance to say it. He smiles a little, the expression half-delirious, and you can’t help but think that if he weren’t so weakened from the pain that wracks him, he might have even managed another laugh.

You kiss your teeth quietly. “Only the girls call me that.”

The man bleeding out in the middle of your table clearly knows your tone of voice means not to push it, because he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his head until he’s staring up at your dingy ceiling once more, though you can tell from the faraway look in his eyes he’s not seeing much at all.

“The girls,” Nicholas remarks quietly, speaking more to himself than anything. “You don’t call ‘em by their names.”

That’s right: he’d only know the girls by their working names. You’re surprised he even caught that.

“The hell I don’t,” you mutter, turning back to face him in your seat once more with your last roll of bandage clutched tightly in your hand. You set it down atop the table as you set your supplies up just how you like them. “I call them by the names their mothers gave them.”

Nicholas hums thoughtfully. “Sarah Jane, that’s Violetta?”

You grunt out an affirmative, threading the freshly cleaned needle with nimble, dextrous accuracy.

“And Charity, her real name’s Bertie?”

“Bertha May,” you correct him, snipping away the excess thread with a little pair of mostly-dull scissors—careful not to take more than you’ll need, but still giving yourself sufficient supply to work with.

“Priscilla’s name’s Adaline,” Nicholas continues, his eyes still tracing the cracks in your ceiling. “And what about Theodosia and Queenie?”

“Georgina and Prudence,” you supply flatly as you secure a tight knot in the end of the stitching thread.

Nicholas sighs before slurring, “’s a lot to keep track of.”

You snort. “Wait until you find out Big Annie’s real name.”

He looks over at you with wider eyes than you’ve seen on him since he came staggering through your door. He catches the expression on your face and his own softens, clearly sensing that you’d said it only in jest.

Annie’s just short for Annabelle, after all. Madam’s rarely need to take up new personas—why would they need to be someone they’re not if they aren’t the ones doing the dirty work?

Nicholas watches as you tug on the stitching thread one last time to test its strength—eying the glinting needle warily. You set the threaded implement carefully off to the side once you’re confident it’s ready.

“So you learned all this stuff from your daddy, huh?” he asks you next.

You swallow over the unpleasant lump you suddenly feel in the back of your throat and reach up, nudging his hand away from where he’s holding the gauze to his wound. He’s become a real chatterbox now, and part of you wonders why you’re even tolerating it.

You clean the area with antiseptic again—and Nicholas is just as dramatic as he was the first time as a low moan of pain tears through him. For a moment you worry he really might be on the brink of passing out, the whites of his eyes taking over as they begin to roll back, so you know you need to keep him focused.

“He used to take me with him on his rounds,” you mumble a reply to his earlier question.

Nicholas’s eyes open a bit wider when he hears your voice, a little more focused now than they had been.

“My daddy, I mean,” your tone is dismissive and flippant, but it seems to be an effective distraction. “I just picked things up here and there while I watched him work.”

“You’re a natural.”

You snort mirthlessly in the wake of his reply. “Don’t know about all that.”

“You just pulled a bullet outta my arm with your bare hands, that’s gotta count for something.” Nicholas hisses as you press the antiseptic-soaked gauze to his wound one last time, then he sucks in a sharp breath. “And the girls trust you a lot, so you must be good at it.”

“Somebody’s gotta take care of them.”

Lord knows no one else around here does.

You set the scarlet saturated gauze aside in the dish with the discarded bullet, then pick up your needle.

You make neat, even sutures through his skin, and you take your time to do it right. You’ve always been good at this kind of thing, even when you were young. You were born with a keen eye for detailed work like this, and your daddy used to get you to finish up the smaller wounds he was called to treat that needed finer stitching—said your little hands were just better at it than his own big, life-roughened ones. He always used to tell you that you got your steady hands from him, but your nimble fingers from your mother.

Not that you’d know anything about that.

Nicholas has stopped flinching now, a little more relaxed than he’d previously been, and you can’t help but look up at him every so often as you work—wondering if that steady, even rise and fall of his chest means that he’s finally knocked out. Especially since he’s suddenly gone so quiet.

But each time you check, you find his eyes are still open—though only just barely—and are peering up towards the ceiling. Sometimes you catch him glancing at you too.

Once the wound has been fully closed in a tidy little line of stitches, you wrap the roll of bandages around it with some gauze tucked underneath, just in case.

“You’re all done,” you say quietly, slumping back in your chair once you’re finally finished.

All at once, you feel exhausted—the adrenaline you didn’t even know had been rushing through you disappearing in a blink. It reminds you of how the wind dies in the valley in the wake of a bad storm, like it took the breeze with it. You’re all too conscious of the fact that it’s the middle of the night now, and that you ought to long be asleep.

“Thank you,” Nicholas says as he pushes himself up onto the elbow of his uninjured arm, though he still winces at the movement. You don’t make any attempt to help him.

His shirt is in pieces, and he discards it since it’s of so little use to him now, shaking his right arm to free it from the only sleeve that remains in tact on the garment. You watch as he pushes himself fully upright, throwing his long legs over the side of the table to stand. When he does, he dips slightly—like the sudden movement makes him woozy, and his knees are weak—and his right hand shoots out to balance himself on the edge of the tabletop on instinct. You suppose it’s not unexpected given the amount of blood he lost.

You watch his toned, tanned back as he stretches himself out as much as his injury will allow; observing how his skin pulls taught over the defined musculature that surrounds his spine. He’s littered with scars—a map of wounds that weren’t stitched as neatly as the new one on his upper arm—and part of you can’t help but wonder how he got them all. Can’t help but wonder what stories those marks tell, written in a language you don’t know how to read.

You look away, feeling an inexplicable heat flood rapidly to your cheeks.

You stand and quickly slip off your own overshirt—just some old button-up left behind from your father, though you have no memories of him ever wearing it. You clutch it in your fist and stick it out for him to take.

He eyes it in surprise for a moment before accepting it.

“Those blood stains are yours, anyway. You might as well have it,” you say, eyeing the red mark at the cuff on the right-hand sleeve as the garment passes from your hold into his, “in any case it’s in better shape than the one you came here with.”

It saves having to clean it, too. So it’s all the same to you.

“I’ll pay you,” he slurs, still unsteady on his feet as he begins rifling awkwardly through his pockets with his only useable hand. He almost tips right over in his haste, but you quickly slip beside him and steady his frame.

“Yeah, you will,” you agree, holding tight to his right arm to keep him standing. “Worry about it tomorrow.”

Nicholas’ bare skin radiates warmth with only your thin, lace-trimmed undershirt left separating you as you stand pressed into his side. He peers down at you curiously, blinking slowly like he’s being called to sleep. From this close, with him standing properly upright for the first time, you realize just how big this man is—tall, with a broad chest and defined muscles, and stubble dusted along his sharp jawline that you hadn’t noticed before. You take a sudden step away to put much needed distance between the two of you, these realizations making something stir in the pit of your stomach that makes you feel squeamish.

“Do you know your way back to the inn?” you ask him, your arms crossing over your front.

Nicholas bobs his head in a completely unconvincing nod. It’s not like the town is big enough to get lost in in the first place—and he very well might know his way if it were daylight, or he weren’t half delirious—but sending him out into The Bend in his current state would be as much of a death sentence as it would have been to turn him away when he first showed up at your door.

You sigh in resignation.

“Just sleep on the floor here for tonight. I’ll check your stitches again tomorrow morning before you leave.”

The man looks taken aback, but he nods quickly—as though he doesn’t want to give you time to rescind the unexpected offer.

You fish around in the depths of your father’s old medicine bag, eventually pulling out a bottle of murky liquid as Nicholas gets settled with an old cushion and a threadbare quilt near the unlit hearth of the fireplace. You use the edge of your nail to uncork it, take a quick whiff to make sure it’s the right one, and then tread towards the man on the other side of the room.

He peers up at you from his makeshift bed on the floor, resting with his knees apart and his long legs sprawled out in front of him. You pass the little glass bottle to him, your fingers brushing as it passes from your grip into his. “Drink this, it helps to fight off infection.”

He eyes it warily. The outside of the bottle is suspiciously grimy, and the putrid colour of the liquid inside is no less reassuring. “What is it?”

“Hog Fennel.”

He grimaces, peeking into the opening of the bottle with one eye closed. “Sounds foul.”

You snort. “It is."

Nicholas doesn’t draw it out any longer, tipping the vial back an draining it all in one shot. He winces once he swallows it down, his pink tongue peeking out a little as he pants through the taste—which you’re sure is bitter and disgusting.

“How was it?” you ask him wryly.

“I’ve had worse, honestly,” he says, shooting you a little grin you can’t believe he’s able to manage not only in the wake of such a disgusting concoction but considering what he’s been through that night.

You blink, your brow furrowing, and then eventually nod dismissively before turning and shuffling off towards the other side of the room where the door to your bedroom is found.

“Thank you.”

Nicholas speaks again as you’re just shy of crossing the threshold into your room, you consider pausing in your shock but then think better of it.

“You already said that,” you reply, your tone annoyed, and shut the door behind you.

You open it again a second later to poke your head back out towards him.

“I’ve got a gun in here, by the way, and I won’t miss. Just in case you were thinking of trying anything funny.”

Across the room, Nicholas is already laying down on his pitiful excuse of a resting place, looking strangely content.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says with a smile, though his eyes stay closed.

Part of you is annoyed at how comfortable he seems. How easily he talks to you. How normal his presence feels in your home.

Another part of you—one that’s deeper, locked away and hidden out of sight in a place where you think you’ve lost they key—isn’t.

You slip back into your room and close the door behind you with a soft click.

And in the silent stillness of your little bedroom with your shoulder blades pressed back into your bedroom door, you realize that the thunder outside has stopped but you can hear the softest, faintest pitter patter of raindrops through cracked glass of your window.

Rain came back to The Bend.

Maybe luck would follow.

#nicholas wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader #poly vashwood #trigun writing #trigun fic #writing

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quiteliterallyilliterate · 4 months

Note

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

#yandere link x reader #linked universe #link x reader #yan!link #yandere linked universe #lu x reader #fae!hyrulexreader #fae!hyrule

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devilat-thedoor · 9 months

Text

Hands to Yourself Pt8

ok bbys🤍

I tried to make this as medically accurate as possible, so if there’s any mistakes as far as that goes, please forgive me? I don’t think this one is my best work, but I hope you all still enjoy it. Thank you for the love and support you’ve been pouring in thus far, it means the world💖💖 btw, special credit to @gvfpal for a particularly heartbreaking scene🥺

Part 7

Word Count: 10.5k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ as always, Minors DNI. TW!! Trauma/Injuries/Mentions of death.

Jake POV

“Odessa, can you just- I need you to tell me what happened.” You tried to keep yourself calm despite the rising pace of your heart rate. The nurses and doctors wouldn’t let you be with her. You begged and pleaded to just see her, if only for confirmation that she was still alive, still breathing like they said she was, but with no luck, you searched for anything to occupy your mind.

Odessa looked up from the hard plastic chair she was sitting in and wiped her teary eyes. “It all happened too fast, Jake. I-”

“From the beginning.” You cut her off. All you wanted was an understanding of how this happened. “She was supposed to be at your house. Why was she driving in the city? How did Sage even know where she would be?” You watched as she tried to collect herself, taking a few breaths before she could speak.

She dug her hands into her eyes as she started a play by play, “We were just looking for a movie to watch and talking about her ring, the proposal. I asked why you guys left the bar in such a rush and s-she showed me the text from Sage and…” She paused, stuttering through her words, “Y/N just wanted a chance to talk to her, face to face, so I asked Sage to come over and I was gonna have her t-take a pregnancy test. Then Y/N…she- well I-” Odessa pushed her hands into her hair, attempting to stifle her sobs. You knew she was having a hard time.

You took a seat beside her, rubbing your hand down her back, “Dess, I’m sure this has gotta be hard for you, but whatever you’re feeling… just know that I’m feeling it a million times worse. I need to know how this happened. Just take your time, take a few breaths and tell me. Please.” She nodded as tears continued to slide her puffy cheeks.

After a minute or so, she was composed enough to continue, “I asked her if she was pregnant, it was just as a joke, but then she kind of freaked out…”

“Wha- wait, why did she freak out?”

Odessa gave you a sympathetic look, “She was scared at how you’d react… Scared that you wouldn’t want her anymore.” You looked away from her, you’re conversation with Y/N from earlier coming back. Had you really reacted so terribly that she was afraid to even bring up the possibility to you? She kept speaking, unaware of your internal turmoil. “I had her take a test and then Sage showed up and it just turned into a blowout. Y/N showed her the positive test and she- Jake, she’s so obsessed with you that she refused to believe it, said it was probably Sam’s…Things got a little physical and then Sage left and everything calmed down after a bit.”

You stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to finish but she was looking around as if she was putting pieces together. “Okay, but then Y/N left? Why did she leave?” It didn’t make sense. If she was on her way home, she wouldn’t have been that far into the city.

“Uhh…” Odessa shook her head as though she was trying to wrangle a herd of scrambled thoughts. “She went to get her phone to see if you’d called but when she came back downstairs… She was panicky? I came out of the kitchen and she was rushing to put her shoes on to leave, said that the garage was on fire and she had to get down there…” She turned to face you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “Now that I think about it… Jake, I drove by the garage on my way here and there was no sign of a fire. No fire trucks or police. Not even a remnant of smoke.”

As you soaked in what she was saying, the realization hit you. This girl was even more diabolical than you thought. Sage knew Y/N was pregnant. Whether she believed it or not, she knew. “Sage fucking set it all up. She’s been stalking her, she knew exactly how to lure Y/N to the garage and the exact route she was gonna take to get there…”

Odessa was finishing your thought before you could, “She wanted her out of the picture… both of them.” She stood up and began rushing away from the area, “I’m gonna be sick…” Danny got up and went after her. You watched them disappear down the hallway before a woman was coming up to you.

______________________________________________________

*beep…beep…beep…beep…beep*

The steady blips echoed inside of your head, bouncing around in the fogginess of your consciousness. Wake up. You tried to force your eyes to open, but they felt too heavy. Everything was too heavy. Your body felt like it was weighed down by some invisible force. Were you sleeping? You had to be. Open your eyes. It was almost like you were dreaming but there were no vivid pictures or scenes that you could see, just darkness. What happened? Other sounds began to rise over the beeping but you couldn’t pinpoint what they were. You focused harder through the clouding in your brain. The blips. An EKG? A heart monitor? The air held a vaguely recognizable scent. Sterile, like industrial cleaner and antibacterial hand soap. Am I in the hospital? There were voices surrounding you. You didn’t recognize them, but you tried to listen, only picking up bits and pieces.

“The impact caused… medically induced… matter of patience…”

You can hear him. Jake. He sounds so far away yet so close. “A coma? How long…”

“….Until she’s stable enough… “

It was quiet, only the rhythmic beeps remaining. You were left alone. At least you thought… But then you felt his hand, trembling, but warm and familiar, grasping onto yours. “Baby, I need you to come back to me.” You willed your eyes to open again. I’m here, Jake. I’m with you. You could hear him crying as you screamed at yourself to just wake up. “Please, God. Don’t let it end like this. I need her.” He wasn’t speaking to you anymore. “You leave her alone, I’ll do anything. Just let them stay with me… Please…It’s not her time.” He was praying. I’m not leaving. I’m right here… You tried to squeeze his hand, even just the tiniest bit, to prove it to him, but you remained motionless. It all came back in a frenzy, flashing in freeze frames in your mind. Odessa’s bathroom, the pregnancy test… Sage in the kitchen… The headlights and the intense, shooting pain right before it all went black. A collision. That’s how you ended up in the hospital. But the baby. Was the baby still in there? Is it safe? Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP. The blips were becoming more frequent, speeding up their tempo. It felt like you were in an endless skyfall, plummeting into an abyss. Jake was yelling, he sounded panicked. “Something’s wrong! Somebody help her!”

Another voice, “She’s going into v tach.” Jake was still frantic, but his voice was drifting further away. “Sir, I need you to wait outside, you can’t be in here..”

A woman, “Pushing beta blockers…”

There were more voices, but as your body went calm, so did your consciousness as the bleak darkness swallowed you up.

__________________________________________________

Jake POV

Eight minutes. Eight fucking minutes. That was all you got with her before the jagged line that simulated her heart lit up, bouncing around in a berserk fashion. A man was pushing you out of the room, while a woman fed things into her I.V. You tried to fight your way back in, to just hold onto her hand a little longer, but it was no use. You were forced to stand there, watching as they frantically moved around her bed, shouting terms that you didn’t understand. And then they were rolling her out, down the hallway and away from you.

A doctor, the one handling her care, allowed you into her room to see her while he explained the condition she was in. “We ordered an MRI the minute the EMTs brought her in and it did reveal some swelling in the brain. Now, we’ve caught it early enough that we should be able to resolve it without surgery.” You tried to focus on what he was saying but as his lips moved, your eyes stayed trained on her. Laying limp in the bed, wires filtering out of the thin blue hospital gown she was draped in. Of the small bit of her skin that was visible, you could see deep purple bruises and drying blood littering it. She had a few small cuts on her face that you could only assume was from the glass shattering out of the window. “Ms. Y/L/N did suffer a minor fracture to her left arm. We reset the bone and we’ll apply a cast once the swelling is reduced.” He took a second to look down at the tablet in his hand, “There is also a break to her clavicle and a few broken ribs. It’s not ideal, but they don’t require surgery either. The better news is, we don’t believe the impact caused any internal bleeding, we’re not seeing signs of that.” He paused and you finally gave him your full attention as he cleared his throat, “We have placed her in a medically induced coma.” He held his hand up to stop the questions that were about to pour from your mouth. “I know how scary that sounds, but it’s for her own good. Her body will be working overtime to heal itself and it could damage her brain in the process. Keeping her comatose will ensure that doesn’t happen and allow the swelling to go down without a problem. It’s all just a matter of patience, I assure you.”

“You’re forcing her into a coma?” You were shaking your head, unable to wrap your mind around anything. “Wha- How long will she have to stay like that?”

The doctor glanced at her before turning back to you, “It’s unpredictable right now, Mr. Kiszka. We’re going to keep a close eye on her and the edema, but until she’s stable enough, this is the safest option.” He was scanning through his tablet again for a moment, “There is the matter of her pregnancy…”

The baby. Your eyes went wide with panic, “Is it- Did- She didn’t lose-“ Dread consumed you at the worst possibility.

His voice was calm but hesitant as he spoke, “I can assure you, both mom and baby are safe… There is a small risk to the pregnancy with her being comatose, but we will do everything we can to make sure they’re both taken care of.” He dropped his tablet to his side and placed a hand on your shoulder, “A nurse will be in to clean her up in a few minutes. You can stay with her as long as you want. Try talking to her, holding her hand… It’s been proven to bring physical and psychological comfort for patients in a coma and that could be extremely helpful for her healing process.” You watched him leave her room without another word.

Taking his advice, you pulled a chair up to her bed and sat down, grasping her limp hand and speaking to her. You prayed to God for her to come back to you and then you were dragged from the room. Now you were in the waiting area, unable to stand still, unable to form a single thought that didn’t revolve around her. Was she okay? Where did they take her? Nobody was telling you anything, you felt like you were going mad.

“Jake, sit down.” Your little brother had his hand on you, “The pacing isn’t helping anything, man.”

Your head dropped into your hands as he pushed you into an uncomfortable waiting room chair. “I feel like I- I c-can’t br-breathe.” The air was too thick, every choppy inhale felt like sticky tar coating your lungs.

“I think you might be having a panic attack.” Sam sat beside you, rubbing his hand across your back. “Talk to me. What happened, Jake? Is she okay?” He tried to keep his tone even, but you could hear how his voice shook.

“I don’t know.” Your hands slid into your hair, pulling at the strands. “She just started- or- I don’t- They made me leave and th- they wheeled h- her bed out…” This was all so wrong, she doesn’t deserve this.

“She’s gonna be alright, brother.” Danny was holding Odessa against his chest while she cried softly into his shirt. “It’s Y/N. She’s strong, she’ll pull through.” He was trying to be comforting, as usual, but you couldn’t take it anymore, the empty promises that she would be fine. She wasn’t fine. None of this was alright.

“She shouldn’t have to fucking pull through! This shouldn’t-“ You stood up, clenching your fists at your sides. “She should be at home, in our bed. Safe… Not fighting for her life in a fucking hospital bed because of some goddamn psychopath!” Turning back to Danny, you directed your attention at his girlfriend. “Did you know, Odessa?”

She pulled away from Danny to look at you, “Know what?” She sniffled, wiping at her nose.

The anger was bubbling out of you and you let it all loose on her, “Sage is your best friend. You brought her into our lives, introduced her to us.” Your voice was growing louder, “You can’t tell me that you didn’t know what kind of fucking person she was. You knew. You fucking knew and you still let her in…” Her eyes were wide with horror as you dropped your tone to a whisper, gritting your teeth, “Y/N being here…stuck in a fucking coma… This is just as much your fault as it is Sage’s.”

“Jake, cut it the fuck out!” Danny yelled at you now, “We all get that you’re scared and hurting and we might not understand exactly how you’re feeling, but Y/N is important to all of us.” You stared at him, your gaze flicking to Odessa who was now shaking with violent sobs as he held her. “Every one of us is here for her. For you. Don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong, you know who’s responsible for this.” The drummer turned and walked away with his girlfriend before you could say anything.

You wanted to hit your head against a wall for how you’d just acted. Odessa didn’t deserve that and you didn’t mean it, but the weight on your chest was crushing and it felt like the only way to ease the pressure was to release your anxiety. Unfortunately, it came in the form of unkempt rage that you’d unleashed upon Danny’s poor girlfriend. Everything felt like it was imploding and you bent over, placing your hands on your knees, trying to catch a breath.

Josh was coming down the hallway, giving you a look that said he knew you were about to have a meltdown, “I left her brother a voicemail, let him know what’s going on.” He draped his arm around your back, “Come take a walk with me, let’s get some air.” He attempted to pull you away from the waiting area, but you yanked yourself from his hold. “Jake, you need to calm down and take a few minutes… We’ll just go outside and get some fresh air for a bit or we can go down to the cafeteria and grab some coffee.” His hand curled around your wrist but you pried it away.

“I wish people would stop telling me to fucking calm down. None of you get it!” They may have all been scared too, but there was no possible way they could even begin to imagine how hard this was for you. “I’m not leaving. I’m gonna stay planted, right in this fucking waiting room, until somebody tells me that she’s okay…and then I’m gonna be by her side until she wakes up.” Josh opened his mouth to argue, but you stopped him. “If you want to get some air, then go Josh. Take everybody with you, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not going anywhere. Her doctor could come out at any second.” As if on cue, you heard your name being spoken. You turned around, hoping it was the doctor, but you were met by a nurse. The one that came into her room to clean the blood from her body before she was taken away. The woman had a clear plastic bag in her hand and you could see the torn, bloody clothing inside of it.

She held it out to you, “Mr. Kiszka, you are Ms. Y/L/N’s next of kin, correct?”

Your eyes went from her face to the clear bag in her hands as you reached out to take it, “What is this? Why are you giving me this?” You watched as she held up something else, a small, sealed baggie with a large orange label on it. Biohazard. A slight glare caught on the fluorescent lights when you took it from her. “No…” You fought back the bile rising in your throat, looking down at the teardrop diamond in the tiny bag, smeared with deep red streaks. Your mind went to the worst. Why would they give you her things, unless… “This isn’t… She’s not-.” Josh was beside you, taking the bag of her clothing from the nurse while you stood, frozen, staring at the ring. “Please tell me she’s not…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence as the tears started pooling in your eyes.

The nurse stopped you with a sympathetic look, “She’s not, honey.” Her hand wrapped around your arm, giving a gentle squeeze. “She’s in surgery now, the doctor will be out to talk with you as soon as he’s finished up.” She pulled her hand back before offering a small explanation, “We just figured her things would be safer with family, rather than strewn about her room.”

“Surgery? But she was…” He told you that she didn’t need surgery. Was her condition worse than they thought? Did they miss something? You looked up at her before she could turn to leave, “What happened? They said-”

“After the V tach scare, they ordered a CT scan to make sure they didn’t miss anything…” She paused for a moment, taking a breath, “Mr. Kiszka, her doctor will be out to brief you as soon as possible.”

“But th-“

She cut you off before you could speak, “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Kiszka. That’s all I know right now.”

You stared blankly as she walked off before your eyes fell back to the small bag in your left hand. “Alright, let’s sit down, Jakey.” Josh’s voice broke through, pulling you out of your head, “I’ll send Sammy for some coffee while we wait for the doctor.” He shuffled you back into a chair while he leaned in to talk to your little brother. In a moment, Sam was up and walking towards the elevators and you were left alone with your twin, the engagement ring and the looming feeling that bad news was on its way.

____________________________________________________

Hospitals always made the concept of time weird. You could be sitting in a stiff chair for hours and it would feel like seconds, but minutes could feel like days. You refused to look at the clock because it only made your nerves worse. When the nurse came out to give you her things, it was just after midnight. The last time you checked the clock, it was 1:36am and you still hadn’t heard anything about her or the surgery she was receiving. You didn’t even know what the surgery was for. Nobody would tell you anything despite your desperate attempts to pry for information. Every minute that ticked by only made your anxiety grow. You looked around at your family, all of them still here with you, waiting for a shred of good news. Josh was still beside you, occasionally reaching over to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. As chaotic as he usually was, you could always count on him to be a grounding and comforting presence when it counted. Sammy was across from you, on the other side of the waiting room, chewing on his fingernails. Next to you, he was probably handling this the hardest. He loved her like she was his own blood. They all did, but her and your little brother had a strong bond that, admittedly, you were a little jealous of sometimes. She’d always say, ‘He’s got a special light to him.’ You never knew what she meant by it, but now, the way his glistening eyes would meet yours every so often and he’d give a soft, compassionate tilt to his mouth, you understood her perfectly. Your eyes drifted to Danny and Odessa. Her small frame stretched across the vinyl loveseat with her head resting on your chosen brother’s lap. He ran his fingers over her hair while she slept. Guilt crept over you at how you’d spoken to her. How you accused her of having anything to do with this. Y/N would tear you apart if she’d have heard how awful you were. You could almost hear her scolding you, ‘Jacob Thomas, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re being a dickhead.’ Picturing her standing in front of you with her hands on her hips and her left eyebrow raised, it made you chuckle quietly to yourself. Danny caught your gaze, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you opened your mouth, ready to spill an apology, but he just shook his head and mouthed at you, ‘It’s okay.’ You knew it wasn’t okay, not even close, but you made a mental note to give Dess a full apology when she was awake. Turning to your twin, you tapped his leg, “I’m gonna stretch my legs. Be right back.”

As you stood up, Josh followed, “You want me to come with you?” Before you could open your mouth to turn him down, you were interrupted.

“We’re looking for a Jacob Kiszka.” You all turned in unison to find two men, in suits, standing behind you. Glancing back at your brothers, they were all alert. Sam came to stand with you and Josh, and Danny was shaking Odessa awake.

“Uh. Jake.” Stepping forward, you held your hand out as a formality, unsure of what was about to unfold.

One of the men grasped your trembling hand in a firm shake, “Mr. Kiszka, I’m Detective Walsh, this is Detective Dawson.” He nodded towards the other man before pulling his hand away and opening up a notepad. “I first wanna say, we’re very sorry for what you’re dealing with right now. We don’t want to cause any more stress to you or your family in a time like this, but we received a call from a nurse, Mrs. Alvez.” He paused, reading over his page of notes, “She says that you were making a pretty serious accusation about the car accident that your girlfriend was involved in.”

“She’s my fiancee…” You corrected him, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “And it’s not an accusation, it’s the truth. Sage did this.”

Det. Walsh held his hand up, “I meant no offense, son. I just need you to understand how consequential this claim could be if it is the truth. Mr. Kiszka, this woman could be facing an attempted murder charge and…” He was hesitant on what he wanted to say next, but the other man, Det. Dawson finished his thought.

“If things go south, she’ll be looking at involuntary manslaughter or, worst case, first degree.” He scratched his chin and you couldn’t help but feel his lack of compassion. “Now, Mr. Kiszka, you’re going to have to fill us in here because right now, it’s just a big ol’ ‘He said/She said.’ What makes you think the collision was on purpose?”

The look of disgust on your face must have been evident, “Worst case? Are you fucking kidding me? What th-” Your mouth hung on the last syllable as you looked behind Dawson to see her doctor coming towards you, pulling a mask from his face. You stepped around the detectives to meet the doctor, questions pouring from your mouth before you could process them. “Is she okay? I want to see her. Why did she need surgery? You said that she-”

“She’s alright, Mr. Kiszka. We have her stabilized… We took her for a CT scan and it showed that her spleen had been punctured by one of the broken ribs.” He took a few seconds to let you process the information before continuing, “We were able to get in and repair the spleen using electrocauterization. The procedure was quick, we didn’t face any complica-”

“It went quick? I’ve been waiting for hours to hear something. Where is she?” You tried to move past him, but he grabbed your shoulder, stopping you.

He waited for you to face him again, “We needed to keep a close watch on her to make sure that there was no more damage. I do have good news for you, Mr. Kiszka… The edema was a lot more mild than we had initially thought and the swelling has already decreased substantially.” Your brows were drawn together, trying to understand what he was saying. He simplified the best he could, “There’s no longer a need to keep her in the induced coma.” His lips lifted into a small smile, “Once the anesthesia wears off, it won’t be long before she wakes up and I’m sure she would love to have you there when she does.”

“I can see- She’s gonna wake up? I- Can I go to her now?” Your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“Yes, I’ll take you to her room. Now, I will warn you, when she does wake up, there might be some confusion… Things are going to be foggy for her, but it’s important not to overload her with a ton of details at once. She’s not completely out of the woods yet. She’s got a long healing process ahead of her and it’s best for her and the baby to keep stress at a minimum.”

You were nodding fast, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do anything. I just- Can I-”

The doctor let out a quiet chuckle, “Come on.” He turned around to walk you to her room but as you went to follow him, a hand stopped you.

You turned to see Det. Dawson, gripping your arm. “We’re not finished yet, Mr. Kiszka.” Pulling yourself from his grasp, you were ready to raise hell, but the other detective stopped you.

Det. Walsh pulled the other man behind him and met you with an empathetic look, “Go ahead and see your girl, son. We’ll talk later.” As you fell into step behind the doctor, you could hear him scolding his partner. “Give the kid a break, Dawson. He almost lost his pregnant girlfriend, you asshole.”

When you entered her room, you stopped inside the doorway. A woman was standing over her, wiping at the cuts on her face. She looked up with a polite smile on her face, “Oh. Dr. Brooks, I was just finishing up with some more antiseptic. I will be out of your hair in just a second.” She went back to her task and you waited patiently until she was done.

Once the woman stepped out of the room, Dr. Brooks took a moment to look over her vitals before he exited too, leaving you alone with her. You pulled a chair up to her bed, your whole body shaking at the memory of the last time you were here, just hours ago. She looked like she was in a peaceful slumber, a hard contrast from how lifeless she looked before. Reaching up, you brushed the tangled hair from her face, letting your thumb graze over one of the shallow scrapes on her cheek as you whispered to her. “Hey, pretty girl… You really had me scared for a while there.” You pulled your hand away to wipe the single tear that fell from your eye and grasped her hand. “Wake up, my love. I just need to hear your voice. I need you to tell me that you love me and that you’re never gonna try to leave me again.” You brought her hand to your lips, pressing them to her knuckles. You kept talking to her, willing her to wake up, for what felt like hours until you finally leaned back, falling asleep in the chair while your fingers stayed laced with hers.

___________________________________________________

Her POV

Your eyes opened briefly before drooping closed again. You tried to bring your hand up to rub away the sleep that laid heavy on your lids, but something was weighing on it. As you made a move to sit up, you were met with a stabbing pain in your left side. You dropped back into the pillow with a hiss as your eyes shot open. You glanced around, trying to get a feel for your surroundings when your ears picked up on the familiar blips. Hospital. You looked down at your hand, still stuck against the bed as something laid over it. “Jake?” Your voice croaked out through your dry throat. His even breaths gave away the fact that he was sleeping, using your right hand as a pillow. Your attention went to your left arm, nestled snug inside of a sling. Every small movement was coupled with an almost unbearable amount of pain. Quiet whimpers fell from your mouth as you attempted to pull your hand free again and this time it woke Jake.

He lifted his head and turned to face you, running his hands over his face. When his eyes found you yours, he stood up abruptly and leaned over you. “Baby… You’re awake, you’re actually…” He trailed off and dropped to hug you but when you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing from the pain, he took his hands off of you. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? I didn’t-“

Finally able to lift your right hand, riddled with pins and needles, you held it up to silence him, “You didn’t hurt me, Jake.” It was a lie, but the terrified look on his face made your heart ache and you couldn’t bring yourself to be completely honest. “There is a good bit of pain though…What happened?” You tried to sit up again but he stopped you.

Jake had his hand on your shoulder, “Take it easy, love. Here.” He knelt down to the panel that controlled the bed positions and clicked the button that raised the top of the bed.

“S-stop. Jake, stop.” Your face was twisted into a grimace, “It hurts, I- Please, I can’t.” Tears were dripping down your face as you gripped your side. Each breath felt like somebody was piercing your lungs with a branding iron. He straightened back up and reached to hit the call button for a nurse. His hands were shaking hard, like he was scared, and the expression on his face was showing the same emotion. You grabbed his hand before he could pull it away from the bed and brought it up to your face, pressing a single kiss to his palm. He moved his hand to cup your cheek with the gentlest touch, wiping away your stream of tears. His own eyes were shining and you placed your hand over his, “Baby, what happened? Why am I here?” His lip trembled but as he opened his mouth, two people were coming into the room.

Jake turned away from you to greet them, “Dr. Brooks, she just woke up but she’s in a lot of pain.” You watched as a woman, your nurse, stepped around the bed to your I.V. stand.

“That’s to be expected, Mr. Kiszka.” He patted Jake’s shoulder and moved past him to stand beside the nurse. “We’re gonna give you something for the pain now, you should feel better in a few minutes.” The woman connected a syringe to the access port on the I.V. tubing and began feeding the liquid through it. “Ms. Y/L/N, we haven’t officially met,” The doctor held his hand out to you, “But, I’m Dr. Brooks. Me and my team have been working really hard to make sure Mr. Kiszka would be able to take you home in one piece.” You slid your hand into his as he nodded towards Jake.

There was a dull throbbing in the back of your head and your mouth was too dry, “Can I have some water, please?” The nurse looked up, giving you a kind smile and left the room, only to return a few seconds later with a small cup and a plastic pitcher. She poured a bit into the cup and offered it to you and you wasted no time in gulping it all down. Jake took the cup from you and grasped your hand again. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Your gaze went from your boyfriend to Dr. Brooks, pleading for an explanation.

The two men shared a look before your doctor spoke up, “You were in a car accident, Ms. Y/L/N. EMTs brought you into the emergency room last night and you were in pretty rough shape.” You listened intently as he ran down, what felt like, a never ending list of injuries and complications and procedures. “Can you remember anything at all?” His brows were pinched as he studied you. “Take your time, I’m just going to look you over.”

Your doctor was maneuvering around your thin gown, lifting it to get a glimpse at how you were healing. You thought back, trying to pull the last memory that you could recover while he continued to examine each bruise and stitch, one by one. As pieces started to fall into place, you retracted your hand from Jake’s with a gasp and flattened it across your belly, “Jake, I-” Panic began to consume you as you remembered the night prior at Odessa’s. The positive test. Did Jake know? Were you still even pregnant? You couldn’t bring yourself to ask that question out of fear at what the answer might be.

“Hey… Look at me.” Jake’s voice was soft, but you were startled by his hand sliding over yours and resting on your stomach. When your eyes traveled up to his face, you were met with the warmest smile he’d even given you. “You’re okay. Both of you.” He knew. Your eyes widened and he gave a gentle nod, lacing his fingers between your own, “My loves.”

You bit down on your lip to keep it from shaking but you couldn’t stop the tears that spilled over your lashes. Dr. Brooks cleared his throat as he put your gown back in place and took a step away from you. “Everything is looking good. I’ll give you two some time, but I will back in a bit to get a cast on this arm.” He pointed to the sling before making a move to leave, stopping in the doorway to turn back to you, “I’m sure your family is eager to visit with you, but keep the excitement to a minimum. It’s very important that you get your rest.”

Jake broke away from you to shake the man’s hand, “Thank you so much, Dr. Brooks. For everything.” The doctor extended his own hand, giving a firm squeeze, and then he was gone. Jake was back at your side in a blink, wiping at your wet cheeks. “Baby, don’t cry.” He carefully sat on the edge of your bed.

Short bursts of memory flashed through your mind, some more vague than others, but some extremely vivid. “Jake, I heard you…” He gave you a questioning look. “You were praying… Asking God to let me stay. To let us stay.” You reached up to brush his hair away from his face, “I thought you would be so mad.”

“Y/N, when Odessa called me about the accident and then told me about- That you were pregnant…” He hesitated, unsure of what he wanted to say, “I know what I said before, but the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach at what could’ve happened, how badly this could’ve turned out… Love, I didn’t expect the relief I got when the doctor told me that you were both safe and now all I can think about is the future. Our future.”

A smile cracked across your face, “I love you, Jacob.” The way his face lit up made your heart swell and you pulled him down by his shirt. Once he was close enough, your hand went to the back of his neck, guiding his lips to yours.

When he pulled back, just a few inches from your face, his eyes were still closed but his brows were creased. “I’ve been waiting forever to hear you say that… I almost thought I’d never hear it again.”

Pushing his hair behind his ear, you cupped his cheek, “Baby, I-.” You were cut off by a few taps on the door, both of you looking in that direction at the same time.

“Jake, we brought you some coff-.” Sammy’s mouth hung open as he and Josh came into the room. “She’s- You’re awake.” You giggled at his observation.

Josh was closing the distance to you, moving across the room at hyper speed, “Ahh, Y/N, as beautiful as ever!” Jake stood from the bed, giving his twin the space to hug you while mumbling a warning to be careful. “It’s so good to see you awake, mama.” His lips curled into his famous, beaming grin as he poked at your lower belly, “I guess that takes on a pretty literal meaning now, huh?”

You swatted his hand away, unable to hold back your smile. “Yeah, I guesso…” You cupped your hand around your mouth, whispering loud enough for him and Jake to both hear, “Don’t worry, Joshy. We’ll definitely name it after you.” You shot him a wink.

“Yeah, over my dead body.” Jake deadpanned, shoving his twin’s shoulder. The two of them began their playful bickering and your eyes flashed to the youngest Kiszka, just a few steps inside of the room, looking at anything but you.

“Sammy?” You waited for him to give you his attention, “I can’t say that I don’t bite, but that’s never made you keep your distance before. C’mere.” Your joke would usually have made him laugh, but he stayed planted and silent. You held your hand out to him, beckoning him to come closer. He was hesitant and you could tell, but he finally started walking towards you. He was picking at his cuticles like he didn’t know what else to do with himself so you reached out and took one of his hands in yours. You looked up at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. You squeezed his hand, forcing him to turn to you, and saw his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Sammy, why are you upset? I’m the one with the broken bones here.” It was your second attempt at getting a laugh out of him, but he remained quiet. “Hey…”

“You almost died, Y/N…” His lip quivered, something very uncharacteristic for him, and it broke your heart.

You sat up fully with a wince. The pain meds had kicked in, leaving you with just a mild cramping where your ribs were fractured. You yanked on Sam’s arm, pulling him down to sit on the bed. “But, I didn’t die, Sammy. You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.” You smiled again, nudging his shoulder.

“It’s not funny.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “You were gonna leave me to fend for myself with those two idiots.” He gestured to his older brothers who were standing by. There he is. That’s the Sammy you know. But he was gone too soon as he looked back to you, a heavy sadness in his deep brown eyes. “This was really fucking scary, Y/N.”

“Oh, Sammy…” You pulled him into a hug with your only functioning arm, holding him tight, but he didn’t make a move to hug you back. “I’m okay, honey. I’m not going anywhere, promise.” You felt him nod against you as he brought one arm around you, staying far from the left half of your body. “Okay, sappy Sam. You’re gonna make me cry, asshole.” You playfully pushed him away.

He stood up from your bed with a quip, “Ahh. So you do have a heart then?”

Jake stepped in before you could return a smart remark, “Alright, guys. She needs to rest a bit before they come to put her cast on.” His brothers tried to protest but he stood his ground. “You can both come back later or tomorrow. I really appreciate you guys being here, but go home and get some sleep or a shower. I want some time to myself with her.”

Joshy was coming forward to give you a parting hug, “That’s awfully selfish of you. Mom would be disappointed that you aren’t sharing.” He bent down to press a kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be back as soon as your guard dog says it’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off, Josh.” Jake pulled his twin into a hug before moving to his younger brother and repeating the gesture, “Send Danny and Odessa back for a visit on your way out.”

Sam broke away from the hug, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced at you, “Uhh…They left a couple hours ago… After Dess woke up, she wanted to go. She tried to make Daniel stay, but he- I’m sure they’ll be back.” He was holding something back and you looked to Jake to see his lips pressed in a thin line, staring at the floor. His guilty face.

“Okay.” Josh clasped his hands together, “We’re gonna go…” He patted his little brother on the back and led him out of the room with a final wave goodbye.

After they were gone, you directed your attention to Jake, “What did you do?” He lifted his head to look at you, a shocked expression over his face as he mumbled that he had no idea what you were talking about. “Jacob, you have that look. The one that says ‘oh shit, I fucked up.’ So what did you do?”

“I did fuck up, Y/N…” You waited for him to elaborate but he steered the conversation down another path. “Love, what- Do you remember anything from the accident? Like how you ended up there or who the other driver was?”

You laid back against the bed, scouring your mind for anything you could find. “I can’t- There’s flashes of scenes, but nothing is super clear.”

He came to sit on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on your leg, “You went to watch movies with Odessa and Sage showed up and then-”

“No, I remember all of that. She was acting insane, saying that you wanted to be with her and I was just in the way.” You shook your head as it all started to slowly come back into view. “Dess ripped into her, I’ve never seen her get mad like that. I slapped Sage, she pushed me and then she left.”

“Can you remember anything past that? Anything between being at Odessa’s to waking up here?” Jake was studying your face, waiting for any indication that you knew. “Take your time, baby. If you can’t remember, don’t force it.”

Things were blurry, but you could still vaguely picture it. The phone call about the garage. The fear you felt on your way there, worried about your business being destroyed. “The garage… Jake, the food truck. There was a fire, I was going to the garage. Dess was following me there, she was right behind me. I remember looking in the rearview mirror to see her and then there were other headlights coming at me. Everything is blank after that, but the truck… I need to-”

“The truck is fine, Y/N. There was never a fire.” He was clenching his jaw and you could feel the anger radiating from him, “Sage made it all up. She came up with some crazy scheme to get you downtown. She was the one that hit you, on purpose.” No way she was that crazy to not only inflict harm on you, risk killing you, knowing that you were pregnant, but to also risk her own life? “Odessa was there, love. She saw the whole thing. It was Sage.”

You were at a loss for words. How had things gotten this fucked up? The throbbing in your head was back and you just wanted to go to sleep in the hopes that you would wake up at home, in your bed, next to Jake. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore… I’m tired.” You brought your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

Jake’s face softened from the scowl he’d been wearing, “Is the pain back? Is it your head?”

“I’m fine. I think this has just been a lot and I need rest like the doctor said.” You didn’t want to think about Sage or the wreck.

“Okay, I’ll put the bed flat so you can lay down.” He went to stand up but you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

You scooted over in your small bed and pulled on his arm, “You too.” He shook his head, arguing that the bed wasn’t big enough and he didn’t want to hurt you. “Jacob, sit down and let me lay my head on you. You don’t even have to touch me, I just want to be near you, please.” You pouted your lip at him and watched as he tried to fight the smile curling his lip. He huffed out a breath and climbed back onto the bed, shuffling up to sit beside you. Once situated, he lifted his arm and let you tuck into him. His hand rested just barely on your shoulder. You could tell he was afraid to cause you any pain or discomfort, but this was the most comfortable you’ve felt all day. Your fingers were on his leg, pulling as the threads of a tear in his jeans. He kissed the top of your head as you leaned against him, slowly dozing off. The last thing you felt before sleep consumed you was his lips in your hair while he whispered that he loved you and his palm, laying gently over your lower tummy.

_______________________________________________________

You awoke to the chattering of voices. Opening your eyes, you were greeted by the fluorescent lights above you. You blinked a few times, forcing your eyes to adjust to the lighting and looked to the window. It was dark outside so you must have slept for a while. The first thing you noticed was the plain white cast on your left arm, the second thing was that Jake was gone. You looked around the room before catching sight of him. He was standing in the hallway, just outside the door, talking with someone out of your view. “Baby?” Your voice was raspy as you called out to him. For a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you, but he was stalking into the room in an instant, two men in suits trailing behind him. Once he was at your side, pushing the hair from your forehead, you lifted your left arm, “How did they put this on without me waking up?” He let out a soft chuckle but there was a hint of annoyance in his demeanor. You looked behind him to the men who followed him into your room. “What’s going on?”

One of the men stepped around Jake, offering you his hand, “Ms. Y/LN, I am Detective Walsh, this is my partner, Det. Dawson. We just have a few questions to ask you, if that’s okay?” He had a deep, gravelly voice with a twang just like a cowboy from an old western film. You let him shake your hand and gave a small nod. “Thank you, I really appreciate it, ma’am. Now, we-”

He was cut off by the other man, “We’ve already heard from your boyfriend that this other girl, Sage, she’s been stalking you? If that’s the case, why haven’t you filed a report or gotten a restraining order?” You were taken aback, but Jake was fuming. You could see it in the way he rolled his eyes, flared his nostrils. He was clenching his jaw so hard you were sure his teeth would shatter at any second.

You took his hand in yours and gave him a soft smile, willing him to relax, before turning your attention back to Dawson. “She has been stalking me. I have proof and she admitted it to me before the accident.”

He shook his head with a laugh like he didn’t believe anything you were saying. “You’re gonna have to forgive me, but some things just aren’t adding up. You say she’s a crazy stalker, but this woman tells us that she was in an intimate relationship with the both of you.” You started to speak but he held his hand up, effectively silencing you. “I’m not finished… She is saying that she and Mr. Kiszka here started to grow closer and you didn’t like that very much. You were jealous and now you’re making up these wild stories to ruin her life. So you can see why I’m confused?”

“What is your fucking problem, man?” Jake was in front of him, their faces inches apart. “Sage is a basketcase! Any decent cop would see straight through her fucking lies.” His voice took on a terrifyingly calm tone. “Makes me wonder how you got this job…”

Suddenly Jake was stumbling backwards as the detective shoved his chest, “You’re a cocky little shit, you know that?”

“Dawson, that’s enough! Get the hell out of here, I’ll finish this myself!” Det. Walsh was pushing his partner towards the door, “You’re done here. You can go back and tell the Captain what the hell you just did.” He waited for Dawson to leave the room before turning back to you. “I can’t apologize on his behalf, but I am sorry that you kids just had to endure that with everything that you’re already dealing with.”

Surely this was some wild fever dream you were stuck in. “Did I just witness a real life good cop/bad cop situation?” You huffed in disbelief. “What is that guy’s issue?”

“Well, ma’am, I don’t know that I’d call myself a good cop, but he is a real piece of work.” He dragged his hand down his face, clearly exasperated, and looked at Jake, “I didn’t intend on any of that to happen. We already have multiple witnesses that corroborated your claims and that little redheaded girl gave some pretty specific details when we talked to her, including information on an assault…” He didn’t need to elaborate any further on that, you and Jake both knew what he was talking about.

“If you guys had all of this knowledge already, why was he acting like we were lying? Why are you here right now? You should be putting her in handcuffs.” Jake was pacing, something you’re sure he’d probably spent 20 of the last 36 hours doing.

Walsh took a deep breath, “Look kid, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” He took a couple steps towards Jake, holding his notepad out, “I just need you both to write statements. Recount every single piece of information you can that will help seal this deal.” He turned to you after Jake took the pad, “You said you have proof of her stalking you? If you can get me that proof, that’s even better.”

“I do, it’s on my phone. I’m just not sure where my phone is…” You maneuvered your body to the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the pain as you placed your feet on the ground. “Baby, where’s all my stuff?” Using the I.V. stand for leverage, you pulled yourself up to stand.

Jake was at your side in an instant, “Hey, I have it in my jacket. I’ll get it, just sit back down.” His hand was on your hip as he tried to gently force you back into the bed.

Your legs were a bit shaky and you grabbed onto his shoulder to hold yourself up. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you leaned into him, “Jake, I have to go pee…Can you help me to the bathroom?” He let out a quiet laugh, hooking your good arm over his shoulder, and led you towards the small bathroom in the corner of your room. The detective stepped aside as you passed him and Jake mumbled that he’d get the phone in a minute. Dragging your I.V. stand along, you pushed it inside before breaking away from Jake.

He was hesitant to let go of you, “Are you okay by yourself?”

“I’m using the bathroom, Jacob, not going into war…I’ll be fine.” You flashed him a smile as you closed the door between the two of you. Admittedly, it was a little difficult trying to pull your underwear down with the cast on your left arm limiting your movement. Sitting on the toilet was a task on its own with the sharp pain in your side, but it was even worse standing back up. After flushing the toilet, you shuffled to the sink to wash your hands, careful not to get the cast wet. When you lifted your head to the mirror in front of you, a small gasp left your mouth. Your face was adorned with tiny cuts and a dark purple bruise, high on your left cheekbone. Your finger traced over a cut on your forehead and then one in the center of the bruise, decorated with 3 thin pieces of medical tape. Taking a couple steps backward, you carefully gathered the bottom of your gown, bunching it up and lifting it to view the rest of your body. Your mouth hung open as you saw the bruising over your ribcage, coupled with the few stitches from where they went in to repair your spleen. It started to sink in, how bad this was. How much worse it could’ve been. Your eyes drifted to your belly and you placed your palm over it, as an unwarranted flood of emotions came crashing down on you. The burning tears began to fall, accompanied by choppy sobs as you realized how quickly this could have ended before it really even began. The pregnancy was unexpected and definitely unplanned, but the thought of something taking it all away from you made the sobbing worse. You put your hand over your mouth to mute your cries, not wanting Jake to hear you. After a minute, you had calmed down and dried your face, trying to make it look like you didn’t just have a mental breakdown. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror and moved to exit the bathroom.

When you emerged, Jake was shaking Walsh’s hand. His eyes flicked to you and his face dropped slightly before he returned his attention to the detective. He knew you’d been crying… You took a deep breath to prepare for his concerned inquisition just as Det. Walsh was coming towards you, his hand extended, “Ms. Y/L/N, it’s been a pleasure, despite the circumstances.” You accepted his hand with a polite smile. “We should be able to get an IP address from those messages you two received. If they lead back to her, paired with the statements from your friends and family, it should be more than enough to handle this situation. I’ll leave you to heal up and I’ll be in touch within the next few days.”

“Thank you for this…These past few weeks have been a nightmare and I just want to put it all behind us.” He released your hand and with a final nod to Jake, he was gone.

“What’s wrong?” You turned your back to Jake and shuffled back to your bed, refusing to answer his question. “Why were you crying?” He grabbed your arm, stepping in front of you with concern etched over his face. “Is the pain getting worse?”

You shook your head and forced a smile, “It’s nothing, baby. I wasn’t even crying.” You moved around him and crawled onto the stiff mattress. He didn’t respond, but when you looked up at him once you were settled on the bed, he had a look that said he knew you were lying. You let out a sigh and held your hand out to him. “Okay, I was crying…I just- I saw the bruises and the stitches and I-.” You squeezed your eyes shut, chewing on your trembling lip. Jake grasped your hand, sitting down beside you. “So much could’ve gone wrong, Jake. I know it’s already bad, but what if…” Your voice trailed off.

“I know, love.” He cupped your face with the softest touch. “I spent too many hours imagining the worst in that waiting room right down the hall… But you’re here and you’re healing and you’re both gonna be fine.” You leaned into his hand with a quiet hum as he continued, “There’s no more ‘what ifs.’ Not right now, anyways. And all I wanna focus on, is right now.” His lips curled into a smile as he threw his arm out in a sweeping gesture, speaking in his british accent, “Cast your worries to the open sea and let the waves carry them to far horizons at the edge of the world…”

A laugh shook your chest as you pulled him towards you and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his. “Make me a promise?” He pulled back far enough to look at you, a slight raise to his eyebrow as he waited to hear your request. “The nursery isn’t gonna be pirate themed…” Your giggle returned at the look of hurt on his face.

“Now that’s just plain mean.” Jake tried to fight his smile but failed miserably as he stared at your wide grin. He cupped your face again, catching you off guard and leaned forward, “I love you, Y/N.” It was the last thing he said before he graced you with the sweetest kiss.

_______________________________________________________

After nine long days of being stuck in the hospital, you were finally on your way home. You couldn’t have been happier to leave. The doctors and nurses were wonderful, but the food was horrible. There were a few times you’d convinced Sammy to smuggle you in snacks. The breathing exercises they had you doing everyday were helping your ribs heal and the pain was already a lot better than it had been. Dr. Brooks was adamant about keeping up with the exercises and he demanded lots of bed rest, but you were sick of being in bed. You knew you still had a long road to recovery, but with the swelling in your head completely gone, the doctor was confident in his decision to send you home. When he came into your room the night before with the news, you wanted to leap around with excitement, but you refrained.

You stared out the window with the same smile you’ve had since you woke up, knowing today was the day you got to go home. It was coasting into the early evening and Jake glanced at you before looking back to the road ahead, “What’s the first thing you wanna do when we get back, love?” His hand was holding onto yours over the center console.

“Take a blistering hot shower.” You answered without the slightest hesitation, causing Jake to chuckle. It was the truth though. The hospital showers never got hot enough, the water pressure sucked and there was always a nurse in the bathroom with you, forcing you to sit on the hard plastic bathing chair while you cleansed yourself. ‘It’s just a safety precaution, dear.’ That’s what she would always say. Jake had barely been at home in those nine days. You had to force him to leave on day three to get a change of clothes. He tried to argue that Josh could just pick them up and drop them off for him, but you refused and told him that you needed a few things that his twin just simply wouldn’t be able to find. On day seven, it wasn’t as hard to get him to make a trip home. You were both going a little stir-crazy being cooped up in the small room without much to do. Tv was boring, there were only so many card games to play and your mood swings were back in full force. Between the changing hormones in your body and bland beige walls you were forced to stare at 24/7, you could’ve sworn you were going insane. But now, as Jake pulled into the driveway, you’d never felt more calm. “I can’t wait to sleep in my bed.”

“I think that’s what I missed most.” He put the car in park and killed the engine, “Squeezing in that hospital bed did a number on my back.” Your body was buzzing as you pushed the car door open. Jake hopped out and came around to help you, even though you didn’t need it. You let him take your hand and close the door before leading you up the path.

He unlocked the front door and waited for you to step inside. You kicked your shoes off and went into the living room, “Not even a welcome home party?” Turning back to Jake, you crossed your arms over your chest with a disapproving look.

He came up, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you against him carefully, “Odessa and Sammy wanted to throw one, but I selfishly told them no…” You let your arms snake around his neck, twirling his hair in your fingers. “They were all there every single day. I just wanted you to myself today.” He kissed your forehead and began walking you backwards. “Now about that hot shower?” His hand slid from your hip to your ass, giving it a pinch.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, “Hmm… You better be careful Mr. Kiszka, doc says no strenuous activities.” You gave an innocent smile before breaking away from him and padding down the hallway. Stopping right inside of the bathroom door, you turned back to Jake, looking him dead in the eye with a mischievous smirk, “But maybe you can help me practice my breathing?”

🤍Taglist🤍

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#jake kiszka #gvf #greta van fleet #hands to yourself #jake gvf #jake kiszka x reader #danny wagner #josh kiszka #sammy kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #gvf fic #greta van fleet fic

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yawnderu · 5 months

Note

non con means non consensual

no consent = rape

can you explain why you don’t think writing rape is an issue and that it shouldn’t go unreported? i’m curious

please be kind i’m genuinely curious as to why people think it’s ok to write about

This has been explained multiple times and— not to be rude, but you can easily do your own research. It's tiring explaining this over and over, but here we go again.

TW: talks of SA and rape.

If you think it's an issue, Tumblr and media gives you the options to blacklist words, tags, and even usernames, in case blocking is somehow not an option.

There are things called dark fics, which include topics such as dubcon, rape, and other things. The fact that an author writes about these topics doesn't mean you should report their content or account, it's actually very easy to avoid, and you're responsible for your own triggers and media consumption. Every single author who writes dark fics and I've seen in the COD fandom writes the trigger/content warnings at the beginning of their fics because we understand it's not for everyone.

I've explained this before, but as someone who used to get molested/SAd since middle school and until my late teens, writing about these scenarios helps me cope. Why? Because I get to have control over what I write and situations similar to everything that happened to me, and I get to pick which character is doing that, rather than all the people who did things to me.

Some rape and SA victims develop kinks related to it, and that's totally okay. The fact that we write things about it does NOT mean in any way, shape or form that we want this to happen to our readers or ourselves, it's simply a kink that oftentimes comes from being a victim ourselves. It's all a fantasy, a controlled environment where we can write these things and have control over it, unlike in our real lives.

You may not agree with these things being written and that's where the fact that you can easily avoid them comes into play. It's truly as easy as dismissing a post, blacklisting words/tags, and blocking the creator. Trust me, no creator will ever care that you block them. I have so many people blocked in here, including some of my mutual's mutuals or followers and that has never been an issue.

Dark fics are not for everyone and that's totally okay, but reporting a creator's account for writing a sexual fantasy with fictional characters is something way too extreme. We're not posting rape videos, we're simply writing things with fictional characters. If you're (in general, not only you) not mature enough to understand why dark media is created, you're likely not old enough to be in our blogs in the first place.

I hope that explained it well and pray that this will finally be the last ask I get about it.

#stray answers

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glittering-moonlillie · 1 year

Note

fluff/comfort with Damian comforting reader who's just feeling a bit insecure and down :(((

Damian Wayne x Insecure! Reader Drabble!

Warning: TW for depression, hints of anxiety. Mentions of blood

Word Count: 1087

“Beloved…it’s alright.” Damian, the love of your life, your rock, had whispered softly in your ear. He had never been one for comforting, never been the type to take off his black veil and become vulnerable, but with his arms so delectably tight around your torso, you knew he was trying.

“I…Darling, I love you more than anything,” His voice was a faint stutter, as if you could break with his regular voice alone. With how you were feeling right now though, you probably might.

Recently you felt like a burden. Like the piece of trash that everyone is too lazy to pick up and too insignificant for rodents to consume. It was the indifference, not the hatred, that was poisoning you slowly, causing you to drown in sorrow. You loved Damian, you truly did, but you were beginning to wonder if he viewed you to be overcompensating for your lack of…well…anything.

What did Damain see in you? You were a cockroach compared to the hundreds of supermodel status women (and men) who threw themselves at his feet, worshiping him like a God, hoping and praying for a scrap of his kindness. You didn’t even have spectacular intellect nor an inclination towards athleticism, not even a quirky personality. You were just…you.

This build up of emotion began to build up more and more until your bottle just…exploded. The water dripped out of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks until it fell down to the floor, evaporating just as quickly as it appeared - almost as if it didn’t exist in the first place. More and more, everything just seemed to spiral out of your fingertips, out of your grasp.

Damian found you in the corner of your shared room, curled up in the corner and stifling the noises of your misery. It concerned him greatly but he had never been the greatest communicator with those sorts of things.

You had flinched when you heard the soft pat of his footsteps against the navy carpeting, somehow thinking that he would lash out and break up with you for being so pathetic. You couldn’t bring yourself to blame him if he did, and the blackest parts of your heart almost wished for it, to find some sort of answer for the ache.

But he hadn’t.

One second you were cold and alone, abandoned, and the next second you were in the warmth of his arms; you were found. Your eyes drifted towards his hands, the same hands that were once bloodied with the necessity to be enough. They were much bigger than yours and could easily snap any bone in your body like a fine pencil, and yet you felt no disgust or terror. Just comfort. Just warmth.

Damian shifted you onto his lap so you faced him, his eyes staring at you with an untamed and unbridled passion. You once again wondered what he saw in you, what significant trait made him stare at you as if you were the pale moonlight keeping his world illuminated. As if you hung up the stars, as if you were the sole individual who breathed color into the monotone world.

His lips parted once, twice, but failed to voice anything. His firm touches remained, however, but it wasn’t enough.

You just wanted to hear him

You want to know why he chose you; why he still chooses to be with you.

“Habibti…it pains me to see you in distress…” He mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss along the line of your jaw. “I know I don’t say it much but I absolutely adore you. You mean the world to me, the universe even.”

Your knuckles were a pale white as you gripped onto his now damp silk sweater, wrinkling and ruining it. “B-but why? What do you see in me?”

Damian shifted again, uncomfortable no doubt. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching as if biting back a scathing comment. You closed your eyes to prepare for the worst, that he had decided to leave you for being overly clingy and desperate. You knew in the end that it would come down to this exact moment right from the beginning; the cracks you desperately tried to glue together would crumble in your hands, leaving you deep in the black hole with no escape. You continued to wait with bated breath to hear his response, feeling the way his fingers danced along your skin with a steady rhythm, committing it to memory out of fear it would be the last one you have with him.

“What do I see in you? Beloved, have you looked in a mirror recently?” He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. His eyebrows scrunched together, reminding you of the soft mornings where he held you as the sun awoke from its slumber. “When I look at you, I see the most beautiful girl in existence. I see a girl with ambition, someone who is able to look past my…transgressions and hold me accountable.”

His lips brushed against your temple as he continued to gently speak. “Above all, you are kind. You are genuine. You are the shining light in my life, my one and only.”

He pulled away, hands resting against your shoulders. “I love you more than a flower’s will to bloom. I love you more than time knows how to handle. Does this make sense, my love?”

The question, of course, was rhetorical because he quickly pressed his lips to yours before you could muster an answer. The tears rolling down your cheeks were wiped away softly, his hands like feathers against your shaking skin.

“So…so you don’t despise me for having these thoughts…?” You asked, sniffling.

“Of course not, that’s absurd!” His face contorted to one of bewilderment. “I could never hold contempt towards you, I love you too much.”

Damian lightly pushed you off his lap and laid you down on the bed. He rolled next to you, faces pressed so closely together, letting you cherish the small smile drawn on his face; Damian did not smile often, but when he did, it was confided with you.

Hands intertwined, Damian told you to focus on his breathing and his words. Slowly, the black tendrils that clung desperately to your consciousness slithered back into the dark cavern they came from. You listened closely to his heartbeat, amazed that it synchronized with yours. Damian cupped your face, bringing it to his one final time before allowing you to melt into a peaceful slumber.

I hope that whoever requested this is doing okay! It has been a while since I have succumb to those nasty black tendrils that feast on your heart and soul until nothing remains. My hope is that everyone who reads this is doing alright, and if not, feel free to reach out! I'm more than happy to help~!!

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Wayne fluff #Drabbles #DC #comics #damian al ghul #Romance #Damian Wayne x Insecure! Reader #Depression #Damian al ghul x reader #Damian Wayne is trying

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archer-fb · 11 months

Text

I promise to be there through thick and thin

Bakugou hurt/comfort fic

A/N - sorry guys if this is bad I haven't written in a while, but in a bad headspace so here we are

tw - please read the warnings <3 - suicidal thoughts, self-conscious, self-harm, negative thoughts, tons of crying, depression, self-hatred, body issues, self-doubt, the feeling of never being good enough/useless/hopeless, I think that's it? but please proceed with some caution. also established relationship with Bakugou

You don't know if this day can get any worse, you missed your alarm, you were late to class, you did horrible in training, and your grades were dropping.

"Y/n", Aizawa said, "your grades are slipping. I know you can do better, is there something happening with your home life? You know you can talk to me. Whatever is going on, try and get it together."

"Yes, sensei," you said. You bowed and left to head back to the dorms. It's been like this for the past month, no one really notices. It hurts. You don't know what to do anymore. You just feel so hopeless and useless, like you're doing enough for the people around you.

Once you reach the dorms Mina greets, "Hey Y/n! You want some of the soba the Todoroki made? I can warm you up-" You cut her off and say, "No thanks, I'm feeling really tired. I think I'm just gonna head to my room. You dashed to the elevator before you could say anything.

Bakugou saw you running to the elevator nearly in tears, he could tell you were breaking during your conversation with Pinky. He makes a mental note to check on you before he goes to bed.

By the time you get to your room you're already in tears and on the verge of breaking down. "Why can't I just be good enough!" you say to yourself. "Why am I so useless, I'm not doing nearly enough anymore. My grades are slipping, I'm on the verge of relapsing, and you can't do anything right!"

You stare at yourself in the mirror feeling disgusted with yourself, you say your thighs are too fat, you have a muffin top, you're fully of ugly acne, and think you'll never be as pretty as the other girls in your class. The more you look at yourself, the bigger the urge you're starting to get to cut yourself. You swore you would never go back to this, but you can't do it anymore.

You sit on the floor leaning against your bed crying so much, you found your old razor. It still has some dried blood on it from long ago. You look at your thighs seeing your old scars. You somehow start to cry even more as you start to make light cuts on your inner thighs, not enough to cause severe harm, but enough to bleed quite a bit.

Just as you're about to make another cut you hear Katsuki knocking on your door. "Sparks? You on there? You didn't eat dinner and came back late. Are you okay?" You stay silent, you then realize you forgot to lock your door, before you have the time to panic you hear Katsuki shout, "Y/n! I'm coming in there, I'm worried about you, Sparks."

He barges in seeing you on the floor crying as you cut your thighs, you break down even more as you start to see Katsuki tear up. "Y/n... Little Spark, what happened? Are you okay? Please talk to me," he says.

"I- I-it's so hard Katsuki, I can barely make it out of bed in the morning. My grades are slipping, I'm getting worse in a training, I look so ugly, and I'm not a good enough partner," you say through tears and hiccups.

He dashes over to you and holds you saying, "Little Spark, you're more than enough in my eyes, you're prettiest person I have ever laid eyes on. You are better than any partner I could hope for, you're so strong and smart, you are such a kind person always helping when you can. It's another reason I fell in love you, Y/n. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." As he says this he starts crying and petting your head and rocking you.

"Suki, I don't know if I can do this anymore, it's so hard and beginning to be too much. Everyday I'm hurting and dreading the next day, I feel like everyone would be better off if I was never hear," you say through broken sobs.

"Little Spark," he starts to say, "I know I speak for everyone in our class when I say we'd be miserable without you. You're always there for me and everyone else. I'm always here for you always, all of class 1a is."

"You mean that?" I say as I finally stop crying. "Of course I mean that, with my whole heart. And you already know I don't say things I don't mean," he says staring into my eyes like we're we're the only two people to exist.

"I'm sorry I'm like this, and I'm sorry I'm broken..." You saying staring at the floor. "Spark," he says grabbing your chin so you are looking at him, "You don't need to apologize for any of that, no matter what you're like I will always love you and be here for you. Now why don't we bandage you up and snuggle together.

You sigh and say, "Okay, I'd like that, I love you so much suki." I know you do Little Spark, I love you more though," with a big smirk plastered on his face.

after Katsuki helps you clean up and bandages up your thighs

While cuddling Katsuki starts saying, "I promise to be there through thick and thin for you, Little Spark. Forever and always." "You really mean that?" I say looking up at it. "Of course I mean I promise with my whole heart, he says staring back at you.

"Pinky promise?" you ask him.

"I pinky promise. Now sleep, Little Spark, I'll stay with you all night. You asleep in his arms with a smile on your face feeling so much better.

I hope you guys liked this! and if not I'm sorry <3 But thanks for reading everyone!

#bakugo x reader #bakugo comfort #bakugo x gender neutral reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #tw sh #tw suicidal thoughts #bnha comfort #bnha #mha comfort

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usetheeauthor · 1 year

Text

Love, Papa 2

Virgin!Henry Creel|One|Peter Ballard x SexWorker!Reader

Summary: After family game night takes a turn for the worse, One is angry with you for ruining his opportunity to go “outside”. You try to get back in his graces in hopes that he’ll help you escape.

Warnings/TW: graphic language, attempted suicide by drowning, violence, infantilization, Brenner being weird, enemies to lovers, tsundere!Peter, hair pulling, crying, force feeding, reader nicknamed “belle” (by Brenner) and “bunny” (by One), slow burn relationship

word count: 5.3k+

series masterlist

Chapter 2: Dumb Bunny

You grow impatient as the “family” continues to eat and converse knowing you’re desperate to win this silly game and go outside. The psychotic man’s eyes constantly flicker back to you when he notices that you haven’t partaken in the meal.

“Belle, you’ve hardly tasted your food. Your brother’s been trying to feed you the entire time and you continue to resist,” Papa begins. “That just won’t do.”

“I don’t eat meat.” You spat through clenched teeth.

“Meat is protein. For your bones and for that beautiful brain of yours, my dear. I want all of my children to grow up big and strong. So you will eat the meat.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Grow up? I’m an adult! You fucking psychopathic bastard.”

He shoves the table from himself as he stands. The table along with his chair launches a few feet away. He towers over you as you stare up with a defiant snarl.

Papa grips your face in his large hand, your lips protruding out. “What did I say about that kind of language under my roof? And in front of your younger sister! How would you feel if she were to repeat that kind of behavior? You’re on your 1st strike for the night. Don’t accumulate any more unless you know what’s good for you.”

His fingers began to dig into your cheeks the tighter he squeezed, tight enough that you were convince he’d draw blood or even choke you out this way.

“Papa,” One chimes in. “She didn’t mean to say those things. She’s scared and the rules are still very new to her. She’s learning.”

“Yes, Papa,” Eleven says, terrified for you. “She’ll be good.”

The viscous man glares into your eyes for a few moments before he lets out a sigh and releases you. You gasp for air, unable to rub the sting away from your cheeks due to your hands being bound.

“I’m sorry for my behavior, children. All of you. Especially you, belle. I’ve been much too hasty with you but only because I know you can be my good girl,” He caresses a hand down your tear-stained cheek and you shiver in fear and disgust. “Will you forgive me?”

You frantically look in One’s direction and he gives you a secret nod. Swallowing your pride, you whisper your acceptance. Papa kisses the top of your head before taking his seat and adjusting the table.

He lets out a breath of relief. “Now, One…please feed Belle her meal.”

“No, please.” You whimper.

One holds the spoon up your lips, you turn your head away. He follows your movements until Papa has to once again stand from his seat. He restrains your head, widening your mouth forcefully.

You whine and cry, struggling under his grasp. For the first time, One seems to break his emotionless persona and you could actually see him being reluctant to follow his father’s commands. But then Papa growls for him to do so and Peter shoves a spoonful of ground beef into your mouth.

“More!” Papa yells.

He shovels more into your mouth until your forced to swallow. You could feel you body having a visceral reaction to the meat. It rejects the taste and, not a moment after, you’re vomiting over yourself.

“Looks like Belle made a mess.” Papa says in an endearing tone.

You couldn’t even stare at him in anger for his sick ways. You felt defeated and weak, looking up at him with tears swelling in your eyes and saliva on your chin.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s run you a bath and get you all cleaned up,” He runs a hand through your hair. “Maybe next time for dinner you won’t give a hard time. I beg not to…unless you wish to be punished. Eleven, would please draw Belle a bath? And, One, if you could please clean this mess and then take her to her bath?”

“Yes, Papa.” They say in unison.

Eleven rushes out of the kitchen and One tends to the mess all over you, wiping away with a moist towelette.

“If you’ll excuse me, I will be in my office to tend to my work. Please have lights out and everyone in bed by 8 sharp. We will have to reschedule the family game night for another time?”

“But Papa,” One shoots up from his seat in protest. “I was hoping I’d get to go outside. You said if we played then there’s a chance that I—”

“Are you being defiant?” Papa’s voice grows dark, staring the young blonde-haired man down.

The young man swallows his pride, jaw clenching. “No, I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.”

Papa nods, wordlessly accepting his apology before exiting the kitchen. One slowly lowers back down into his seat, staring in Papa’s direction angrily before turning to you.

“This is your fault.” He hisses but you couldn’t even care to reply. You already felt so broken. There was no way you could escape this place. Even if you could, you were much too afraid of what could happen should you get caught.

After cleaning you up enough, he carries you to the bathroom in his arms. Eleven awaits by the bathroom door, concern in her eyes for you. You felt genuinely terrible for her. She’s just a young girl witnessing all of this happening before her. Yet despite all the violence she must’ve endured, she was still kind and caring.

“You can go clean up in the kitchen, sister. I’ll be there with you soon.” One says to the young girl.

She nods, looking at you once more then closing the bathroom door behind her. One pulls off the large shirt he’d given you and you don’t attempt to resist. Even when his fingers curled around the waistband of your underwear, you remained an empty shell.

He doesn’t lower your panties. Instead, he pulls his hands away from you, letting out a shaky exhale.

“That’s as far as I will go. You can remove them on your own,” He reaches for the doorknob to exit but then ends up speaking over his shoulder for his last message. “You must know you’ve earned an enemy in me. I had plans to go outside for reasons that I don’t feel the need to disclose with you. If you weren’t such a brat, we could’ve been out there.”

You shudder a cry before breaking down completely, head falling into your hands. “I don’t care anymore. Just leave me alone.”

One almost feels bad for you. You weren’t built for a situation like this. But was anyone really? Something about you was different, though. Why had you given up so soon?

He exits the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar and he could hear you sobbing to yourself all the way until the end of the hall.

————————

You can hear the chimes again. When you close your eyes, they sound a lot closer. You let your mind drift away again.

This time you’re even younger in your memories. Your dress the color of sky, flowing daintily in the strong winds as you frolicked in a field of daisies and dandelions.

You can see someone in the distance. A boy some years older than you. He calls you over to him with a smile and you want nothing more than to reach out to him. But every time you felt like you were getting closer, he seemed further and further away. Oh, if only you could see his face.

But he felt so familiar. You know him. Possibly all your life. So you pick up your speed to reach him, giggling and smiling. You were almost there. So close. But then you see a tall, dark figure towering over him from behind. The boy is oblivious to it, simply waving and smiling at you.

You stop in your tracks, screaming. Or at least you’re trying to scream but your vocals felt as if they’d been constricted by your fear. You knew his name, it was on the tip of your tongue. You’ve got to say it or that thing will take him! Just say his name!

You open your mouth the first syllable of his name ready to be spoken when the figure consumes the boy whole. You watch in horror, tears streaming down your face. Paralyzed with fear, you couldn’t run. All you could do is watch as the figure slithered your way.

It rears itself back as if it’s gaining the momentum to pounce and—

—————

You’re coughing up water, gasping for air. One and Eleven over you, staring down at you with a mix of terror and relief in their eyes. You have a fluffy pink towel wrapped around your body as you recognize that you were resting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.

You were drowning, submerged yourself in water for nearly 3 minutes. One was able to revive you with CPR. His hands wet as he caresses his hands over your face to check if you were responsive.

“Why?” Was all he said.

But you don’t answer. You just blink up at him wanting to study his features, know who he is. Maybe he might have been the boy in the dream that you saw.

Eleven gets on her knees beside you, tears in her eyes. She goes in for a tight hug, surprising you. You don’t hug back at first, too dazed and confused. But then you suddenly had the urge to comfort her, curling your arms around her tight as well and whispering your apologies to her.

After the incident, you were placed back into ‘your room’. You’d been given another large shirt to wear. You knew he’d be coming in to tie you up to the bed and you wished you could savor the moments of your freedom, stretching your hands and legs. But all you could do was hug your knees to your chest.

You feel someone enter the room, not bothering to look behind you.

“Belle?”

It’s the little girl. You turn to look at her standing in the doorframe, scared to come in.

“It’s okay,” You say. “You can enter.”

She nods, walking over to your bedside. You gesture for her to have a seat and she does so as well. The silence is deafening for a moment until she speaks up.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers.

“Why?”

“Because you’re here.”

You let her reply sit for a moment then sigh. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I wish I could have said something to help you get away.”

“Then he would’ve hurt you,” You know it was brutal to say but the Eleven knew that it was exactly what he would have done if she interfered. “I think maybe I’m supposed to be here.”

Eleven blinks in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think it’s fate for me to have met you. Because it means I get to save you. Wouldn’t you want to be free?”

Eleven blinks rapidly, putting her hands over her ears. “No, no. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’m sorry. No escaping. No!”

The picture frames on the walls began to clatter against the wall.

“Eleven?” You stare at her in horror as she continues to plea and beg for you to stay.

You don’t know what to do so you simply wrap your arms around her, holding her tight until she begins to stop crying. She ceases her cries, going limp in your arms as you cradle her.

When you felt a presence coming towards your room, you worried it was Papa and you expected him to question Eleven’s distraught state. But One enters the room, concern on his face when he scans the room to see the picture frames slowing their movements then looks over at you and Eleven hugging.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“It’s nothing,” You say. “I just scared her. That’s all.”

“Eleven, it’s time to go to bed. Papa will come around to tuck you into bed soon so please say goodnight to Belle.”

She reluctantly pulls away from you, whispering a soft goodnight then exits the room. One stands in the middle of the room stiff and proper, staring daggers at you.

“Are you aware of what you’d just done?”

“Are you always this stoic?” You mutter.

“I’m only doing what I have to do. You should do the same,” He strides over to you, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. “I told you if you’re going to survive, you need to adapt. Killing yourself isn’t going to help this situation.”

“And how so? If I’m dead, I wouldn’t have to deal with you or that insane man.”

“You don’t realize what you’ll leave behind once you do,” For the first time, you can see fear in his blue eyes. The moonlight shining in them enhances his emotions. He looks strikingly beautiful, face chiseled despite the light being so dim. You’re enamored by him. “You don’t just die and that’s it. Eleven and I will face the wrath of Papa if you do so. I won’t let you die. Call me ‘selfish’ but I’ve been good enough to not be punished and I don’t need you ruining that for me.”

“You have no control over me. None of you do. I rather die than live in this nightmare. I can’t do this!”

“Do you know that it was Eleven who’d found you submerged underwater? She couldn’t see you through the milk & rose water, not until she reached in to drain the tub and felt a foot. She would have screamed at the top of her lungs but she knew what Papa would’ve done to us all.” Your facial expression softens, feeling truly horrible that she had to see such a thing. He continues. “If you don’t adapt, you don’t survive. But if you choose not to get along, that’s fine. I don’t mind whatever happens to you as long as I don’t have to get punished for it.”

“Maybe you’re okay with being a bitch boy and all because you don’t want to get hurt but at least I’ve got the balls to do something about it. So…Fuck. You.”

“I’m going to give you such a hard time.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

His face twists into a furious snarl, getting on his feet to leave when your hand reaches for his on their own accord.

He’s caught by surprise, frozen in position as he looks down at the contact. You pull him down to be seated once more and he does so without hesitation.

One studies your face for an answer.

“What’s your name?” You ask, dropping the hostilities.

“One.” He says.

“Your real name.”

“That’s my real name.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the only name I could recall.”

“What about your life before this?”

“I can’t remember that either,” He sighs. “What does it matter anyway?”

“Because,” You scoot closer to him. “I feel like maybe we’ve met before.”

“You’re mistaken.” He tries to stand again but you place your hands on his shoulders, seating him.

“I dreamt of a boy in a field of daisies and dandelions. I couldn’t make out his face. He was only a silhouette but I knew he was smiling at me. And he was happy to see me. If I could just find some connection to all of this in my life—”

“You have to let go of those fantasies. They’ll only give you false hope and drive you mad.”

You grew upset, turning your head away from his gaze. “I am mistaken. The boy in my fantasy actually smiled at me. You don’t even have the decency to tell me you’re sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being okay with this! For doing everything he says.”

“You’re as daft as you look,” He growls. “You think I want to play these silly games. We don’t have a choice! So again…if you want to survive, you have to adapt. Unless you’d like to end up like the others.”

“T-there were o-others?”

“Of course, there were others. He’ll stop at nothing for the perfect family. I’m a permanent member of this family. So is Eleven. But you… ‘Belle’… are expendable,” He whispers darkly, eyes wide with innocence despite his chilling words. “Papa dreams of a perfect family to be in his image that he’s dreamt for years. And losing another new addition will mean nothing more to him than a piece of torn paper.”

You swallow hard, chest rising and falling heavily. “How many were there…before me?”

He opens his mouth to speak only to be cut of by the sound of a door shutting. One’s eyes bug out in horror.

“That’s Papa. He’s just left his study. I must go before he sees us like this,” He picks up the rope tied to the bars of the bed frame. “I have to tie you up.”

“No,” You plead. “You can’t please. It hurts.”

“Until you gain his trust, it’ll be this way. I already told you that you’re expendable. Don’t do anything stupid and risk losing your life. If you want to survive…

“I have to adapt,” You finish with a groan of annoyances. “I know. I know. Just tied me up already. I don’t care to fight anymore.”

Peter slowly loops the rope around your limps and you could actually feel him holding back on tightening the rope.

Leans down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t give up fighting just yet. If you still have a shred of something to live for then you must hang on to it.”

He lifts his head to stare into your eyes and you see that he genuinely meant what he said. You were surprised but nodded nonetheless. He quietly slips from your room leaving you in the chilly, eerily quiet space alone.

Every footstep you heard outside your door terrified you knowing that it was Papa. Any moment and he’d be walking through the door just to harass you in some way. You couldn’t bear to have him touch you but you knew it was only inevitable.

To reduce the surprise of his presence, you counted each thud of his foot in order to determine how far he was from reaching your door. It did little to lower your anxiety as each footstep grew closer and closer in sound until you heard him halt right out your door.

You tremble against the mattress as the door slowly creaks ajar. Then, you see him. The tall, lanky silhouette of your captor standing in the door frame. He steps up and the moonlight washes over his features. He has a soft smile.

“Hello, Belle.”

You don’t speak anticipating his next move. What was he planning to do? You were already tied up. He could do whatever he pleased in his bound state and with each footstep, you began to cower even more at this very fact.

He takes a seat beside you, shushing you as you whimper and tremble. He brings a large hand to your head, smoothing your hair down.

“I didn’t come to hurt you, my dear. I only want to comfort you. You’ve disobeyed me plenty today and yet I can’t help it. I must ease your nerves,” He whispers, fingers now caressing your tear-stained cheek. “Tell me what must I do to make you love me.”

You shake your head. “I could never love you.”

“That’s not something I can believe, Belle. You wouldn’t be selling your body on the street if you weren’t craving for someone to love you. And I love you, Belle. With time, you’ll love me, too,” He leans over you as you press your head back against your pillow. “Until then, I will be patient. I will wait for you to come around. Then, we’ll begin our journey as a happy family.”

He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and you do everything in your power to keep from rubbing at it in defiance and disgust. He moves his lips to your bound wrist, sliding the rope down enough to place another kiss on the deep indentation of the rope against your skin. He takes a thumb to rub at it before bringing the rope over it again.

“Do I get a kiss goodnight?” He asks, bringing his face over yours again and turning his face to the side. “On the cheek, of course.”

You face away, snapping your head to the side to face the antique wallpaper. He looks down at you and sighs, hands on either side of your head. He inches them closer to your hair sprawled out around you, weaving his fingers in the strands of your hair and gripping hard. You gasp in pain, staring up at him with widened eyes.

“You need to sleep off this rebellious attitude. I say by morning you’ll be more well-behaved,” His lips are inches away from yours, tone icy. “Have a good night…Belle.”

He pulls away from you leaving you struggling between holding your breath and hyperventilating as he exits ‘your room’.

You coil your body in fetal position, crying softly into the night. You couldn’t see yourself falling asleep anytime soon. Not when he was around possibly waiting for a moment to take advantage of your sleeping state.

You let your mind drift again, far away from here and back to the field of daisies with the boy who made you feel safe. Slowly your eyes begin to blink close allowing yourself to hold the image of him holding out his hand to you.

—————

The next day, you were discouraged to realize that the torment that you were experiencing had not been a dream. You were awoken by the blonde haired man who still carried resentment towards you for your little stunt last night.

While he helped you out of bed, you couldn’t help staring into his face. It was no surprise he carried no emotions. He was likely desensitized to everything around him. He probably was once like the little girl Eleven, bright-eyed and innocent, until he was not.

You pitied him. And maybe that was displayed on your face because he had a few choice words for you.

“Why are you staring at me like this?”

“Like how?”

“Like you feel sorry for me. Like I’m weak.”

“I do feel sorry for you,” You admit. “You have no recollection of your life before this. You have no name other than a number. And you’re treated as if you are a child.”

“I don’t need your pity,” One scoffs. You take his hand and he’s taken aback once again at the sudden contact. “You’re always touching me. Don’t you know the basic rules of keeping your hands to yourself.”

“No one has ever followed that rule for me. Why should I be the only one to follow it? I think you want me to touch you,” You said, intertwining your fingers with his. “I think…you still have a heart and you’re seeking compassion and companionship. You want me to convince you to fight. You and I are both victims of our situation. But we shouldn’t let it drive our complacency. We could escape. The three of us.”

His ocean eyes shine with shock as if you’d read what was on his mind. He quickly snaps back to reality, pulling his hand away. “You’re a foolish woman. Your bravado will be your downfall.”

“You can try and pretend like you don’t want to run! But I know the truth and I’ve seen it in your eyes. I won’t waste my energy fighting to stay alive here like you want me to,” You say while staring up in his eyes with a newfound courageous spirit. “I know what I’m fighting for now and it doesn’t end with me being here.”

The two of you keep up your heated gazes until the door pushes open and Eleven enters the room giddily.

“Brother! Sister!” Eleven squeals giddily. “Papa says that he’ll allow us to go outside after breakfast! He says that he felt truly awful for ending family game night the way it did and so as an apology, we can play out in the field.”

“That’s splendid, El! Sister and I will be expressing our gratitude to Papa very soon. Could you please let him know that we’ll be there soon?” One says.

“Yes!” She says with a bright smile before scurrying out the room.

One brings his lips to your ears for a raspy, threatening whisper. “I’ll see to it that you’ll be on your best behavior unless you wish to be punished for real this time.”

He pulls away and gives you that famous eerie yet innocent smile. “Don’t be too late for breakfast.” And with that, he leaves you in the room alone as you seethe quietly at his unwavering demeanor.

————

Breakfast felt surprisingly normal. Papa read his newspapers, Eleven colored away in her coloring book, you and One were consistently staring dagger at one another. It creeped you out but that didn’t matter at all to you.

You’ll finally get to go out there and make a run for it. You even ate all your breakfast hoping that it’d give you the necessary energy to run for your life.

Papa looks away from his newspaper to watch you in astonishment. “Wow, look at you, Belle. It seems you’ve developed quite the appetite. And Eleven, it’s not good to color at the table. We’re meant to be eating breakfast, remember?”

“Sorry, papa.”

“You’re very much excused, love. I understand that you’re eager to hurry outside. I guess I could just let you three catch the rays of the sun right now. Is that what you’d like?”

“Yes!” One and Eleven say in unison.

“And you, Belle?” Papa says, focusing his attention on you.

You smile brightly and nod. “Y-yes.”

“Wonderful,” He beams. “Alright, let’s go outside.”

You could almost cry tears of joy. Freedom was only within a reach away. He stands to his feet and you all follow after him as he heads over to the door padded with locks upon locks.

He pulls out a keychain filled with various keys from his pocket and begins unlocking the door. When he gets to the last lock, your smile widens as the door swings open and the sun pours in.

It was in the middle of nowhere, a house in the middle of the woods. There’s a chance you could get lost but that mattered not. As long as you can get away, you’ll figure out a way home after.

The house was also surrounded by tall metal fences, fences laced with barbed wire at the top. It was intimidating and deterring but not enough to scare you.

The field’s quite beautiful. He has his own garden and crops to grow. Possibly to reduce the amount of trips to the grocery store. You could see an apple tree with a tire swing hanging from the thick branch.

Eleven is the first to exit the home, barefoot with her frilly blue and white dress blowing in the wind as she twirled and jumped around.

One is next, his excitement a lot more contained as he heads straight for the garden. He begins to tend to the crops.

Lastly, you take a barefooted step onto the creaky porch, antsy at the startling sound which causes you to bump into Papa. He chuckles, amused by your anxious state.

“Run along, Belle. Enjoy your time outside. I’ll be in my study but we’ll see each other very soon.”

You blink up at him then back at the picturesque field. He was wrong. He wouldn’t be seeing you. But if there’s one command from him that you’ll find yourself listening to…you will very well ‘run along’.

————

You need to figure out just how you will get to the other side of this fence without being shocked to death.

“Don’t even think about,” One says, bumping your shoulder with his as he follows your eyes to the barbed wire fence. “You’ll have yourself killed.”

“I thought you didn’t care what happened to me.” You mutter.

“I don’t long as I’m not in the middle of it.”

“Then, you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Whatever. It’s your funeral.” He huffs, retreating back to his garden. You should be ignoring him and focusing on more pressing matters but you watch him as he cups his hands carefully around the leaf of a plant.

You zero in only to find that he held a small tarantula in his hands. You squeak your horror.

“Why do you have that?”

“Why do you care?” He counters.

“You’re more of a child than I thought.” You say, rolling your eyes.

He gives in. “I like spiders. Everyone looks down on them because they’re ‘creepy’. Much like me, I, too, couldn’t appease the masses. I’ve been told that I’m strange. Unnerving like my eight-legged comrades. I was never normal. But why would I want to be, anyway? All humans care for is fulfilling their own selfish desires. Sex…money…violence…anything of the flesh. But what I desire…not many are willing to admit. I desire power.”

“You’re right about that,” You say much to his surprise. “Everyone I’ve met has only ever wanted those things from me. The men who used my body, the man who sells my body for profit, the violence that follows me where I go. I want power, too. If I had the power, just this once, I’d get my revenge on them all. Including your Papa.”

He’s moved by this, smirking with pride. “You’re not the dumb bunny I thought you were.”

The corner of your lips twitch in a vicious sneer. “I’d hurt you, too. I’d hurt anyone who hurt me.”

He nods, slinking the hairy spider back and forth in his hands and between his fingers. “You’re entitled to those feelings, bunny.”

“Bunny? Is that what you’ll be calling me from now on?”

“I think so. It suits you well. Hopping around dangerously and frantically only to be swallowed whole by the cunning fox. You’re only prey here. That’s all you’ll ever be. Power isn’t reserved for prey. That’s just wasteful.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.” You hiss, stomping away from him.

You pace back and forth, hands in your hair and thinking hard when you feel a small hand tug at your white nightgown.

You looked down to see Eleven with a smile on her face, waving for you to come along with her. “I have something to show you.”

“Not now, dear. I—-“

“Oh, it’ll be so quick. I promise.” She says, grabbing your hand and tugging you along to come around the back.

She halts in her tracks at a distance, then points forward and you look in her pointed direction. There’s a brown wild bunny hopping away in the cunning fox’s cage.

Eleven gets on her knees and gestures for you to follow her as the two of you crawl as close as possible to the bunny. She pulls out an apple from her small pocket, taking a bite so that she has a piece of apple to feed to the bunny. She hands the apple over to you, wanting you to do the same.

“That way the bunny will get to decide who she feels comfortable going to.” Eleven explains.

You repeat the process of biting into the apple for a chunk to provide to the bunny. Then, you hear it. The chimes gently sounding off in the winds. The bunny hops towards you and you and Eleven stare in awe at the creature as it makes its way to your offering.

It nibbles for a moment, your eyes staring into its own like you’ve formed a connection. Eleven sneezes and it startles the bunny, causing it to scamper off and under the barbed wire fence.

“I’m sorry.” Eleven says, disappointed.

But you had a revelation. It wasn’t that you needed to go over the fence. It was under the entire time.

Score: 1 for the ‘dumb bunny’.

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l-lenny · 7 months

Text

Dumb Krum … I love you too!

Part 8

Viktor Krum x Malfoy! Fem! Reader x Fred Weasley

TW: dash of angst at the beginning

SERIES MASTERLIST

—————

Viktor caressed your cheek and sighed loudly. Looking you in the eye, his eyes started to water. “Ve should head back to the rooms” he said as he turned around and walked off. You stood there. Just stood there looking at the direction he disappeared. What was that?! That was your moment! This was supposed to be the kiss of your life! The moment he comforted you and tell you he loves you!? What happened?! Staying silent new rage wave got you and you just spiralled. Wanting to scream but also wanting to cry at the same time.

Why did he do that if he wasn’t going to kiss you! Slumping down you let your tears run wild. Why did it hurt more than anything else. Heart in pieces, the silent rejection was more hurtful than saying it. You felt every piece of your heart cracking and screaming in agony. Crying your soul out you curled in a ball. Hoping nobody would see you.

You managed to get yourself down the tower and prepared to go to the dungeon to meet with Snape. In reality your only desire right now was to curl up in bed, not to go to detention. And it was potion professor non the less. With puffy eyes you dragged yourself to detention, you knew that you missed dinner. Yet you didn’t care. Entering the classroom you saw Snape and one other student. “Fred?” You asked “Y/n?” He smiled when he saw you. Snape scoffed “this isn’t a reunion” he spat.

After that you were stuck cleaning everything in the supply cabinet by hand! Snape took your wands and said he will return them after detention. “Y/n?” Fred asked you. “Why are you at detention” he was curious. You told him how that no brain treated you. For him defending him that he was a better date to the ball Fred was laughing at that fool and promised to set his pants on fire for you. You felt better, not fixed, but better. Fred wanted to ask you about your puffy eyes but he kept it for himself. Joking with you and cleaning, lifting your mood and seeing your smile was all enough for him to know you were happy.

Your smile was radiant to him. Seeing you like that brings his heart to stop for a moment before it release the butterflies into his stomach. He was falling so deep and he didn’t stand a chance if you rejected him. “Oh and I wanted to ask” he said remembering why he wanted to talk to you. “What colour will be your dress? I wanted to match with my-“ you smiled at him so tenderly. Oh he was so thoughtful. “I will match your house colours” y/n admitted shyly. “My formal dress are mainly reds and browns, but I will wear a touch of gold” she matched his house colours perfectly. He smiled at her and nodded “I am sure you would look good in any colour, but I am so excited to see you in red” he said. Something in you moved with his words. You wished it was Viktors words. But at the same time, you were smiling and feeling happy because Fred said it. Emotions are really confusing for you. Being surrounded by boys most of the time you weren’t able to talk it out with girls as most of the others. You were so confused right now.

Ending detention with a warning from Snape you headed to bed. To be honest you were exhausted from all the crying, cleaning, and talking.

Christmas was slowly coming and that meant the Yule Ball was around the corner. You kept your distance from Viktor even though it hurt you and him. You talked just about trials and study related things. Days slowly passed just as snow outside. Being the Durmstrang champion around this time was harsh. Constant interviews from the press, mostly Rita, the exams, preparations for next trial and the Yule Ball. You had almost no time to ponder if you should go for it with Viktor or if you fancied Fred. That was on one hand good for you. You have been busy and that was kind of relief. But slowly and surely it doned upon you that you would have to see Vik with Hermione at the Ball. You didn’t disliked her. You just saw her as someone who was by Viktors side. And that fact irritated you. Sure if you met at your own accord you would be friends, well maybe. But this wasn’t the case.

—

Brushing your hair, letting it fall down and styling it. Taking your enchanted golden pearls, you got for your 10th birthday, you made them fit into your hair, making it shine. Taking gold pair of earrings you polished it and put them in your ears. You were not that familiar with make up, only way it was put on you was by your mother, but for tonight you tried your best. Keeping it light and natural you looked at yourself in the mirror. Rosy cheeks, big lashes, light eyeshadow on the eye and red lipstick. You looked breathtaking. Adjusting your jewellery, rings and necklaces you finished your outfit with the half cape fur coat. You wore trational formal dress of Durmstrang. It was red robe with long skirt and slight pattern that was visible in the light. You make sure your golden shoes were extra shiny and when you make your final and last check up in the mirror you were ready. Thanks to letter send by McGonagal you knew you will be in the hall last.

Christmas Day night was about to celebrate the Yule Ball in full swing. You were nervous but excited to see Fred. Were you excited to see Viktor? Yes of course. But seeing him with Hermione? It was a different story.

#fred weasley #fanfic #fred x y/n #harry potter #harry potter ff #fred weasley x you #fanfiction #fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #viktor krum #triwizard cup #triwizard champions #triwizard tournament #hogwarts #durmstrang

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inkblot22 · 1 year

Note

HELLOOO!! hruu? any epel thoughts? :0

I was thinking of forced pregnancy bcs … u cannot tell me he’s not a family guy who would not want a kid of his own .. man has a breeding kink and noncon somnophilia … iykyk

Hello, friend! I am doing well, and I hope you are as well! Typically I'm terrified of the idea of bearing a child, but that terror is what gets me going. May I just say, this is some good food. Thank you anon, and I hope you don't mind if I expand on this. Of course all characters have been aged up to 18+, and I also have no idea what gripped me. This was supposed to be much shorter.

As always, TW for yandere, forced impregnation, afab reader (misgendering warning if you're nb or transmasc, stay safe everyone), "subtle" misogyny, if you can call it that, noncon, drugging, somnophilia, name calling. Animal abuse, if you consider Grim an animal. Don't worry too much, he doesn't get hurt.

Epel strikes me as the type of guy who would want to do anything to prove that he's "manly." You and I know that actually manly people are effortless about it, but Epel feels the need to try because... well, to put it plainly, he seems a little delicate. That's not to say that he's weak. No, you find out relatively quickly that Epel is a lot stronger than he looks.

It all begins with lunch, ridiculously enough. You and the others are talking about the future and Epel mentions that he wants a lot of kids, and you can't help the giggle. Epel as a dad? It just tickles you pink, because all you've ever known him as is a rough-hewn, soft-spoken apple boy. Vil's poison apple for that really weird plan he'd come up with. You didn't mean to hurt his feelings. That's not something you tried to do, but it happened, and despite you apologizing and explaining yourself, he seems to have taken it hard.

See, in your mind, it's just bizarre to imagine him surrounded by a bunch of little kids. In his mind, you were laughing because you believed him to be so effeminate, so girlish, that he couldn't possibly impregnate anyone. And he'd grown, in the past few years you'd known him, but he was still sweet-faced and willowy, so he felt like it was a double dig, both at his manhood and appearance.

You went home after class wondering how you could get Epel to forgive you, not expecting to find him standing in front of the doors to Ramshackle house. Grim points out that he's holding something, and you notice it too, but can't make it out from the distance you're standing at.

You shout out a greeting as you approach the door, pulling out your keys, and Epel turns to you with the most radiant smile you'd ever seen him give anyone. Foolishly, you thought he couldn't have possibly have still been upset with you, but you apologized again anyways and let him in.

He greets you by mentioning that he had gotten the go ahead to spend the night. You go along with it, even though it's a bit of a faux pas to invite yourself over. He is well aware that Ramshackle, despite being much nicer now than when you first moved in, is a lonely, lonely place and there are an abundance of strange critters living there, magical and not. You include Grim in there, jokingly.

Right as he's about to say something else, Grim interrupts him and asks if he's holding some kind of pie. Epel sighs, but it's a good-natured sigh. The three of you walk in and he places the tart, not pie, in the kitchen. You tell him you're going to get changed, leaving Grim downstairs with him.

When you come back, Grim is scarfing down a slice of that tart and there's a piece sitting next to Epel that he hasn't touched. He slides it towards you as you approach, says he wants you to try it because it's his grandma's recipe.

It's really delicious, something about the reds and oranges of the sunset coming through the windows and this wonderful confection make you a little teary-eyed. You tell Epel that he didn't need to bring anything, least of all something made with his grandmother's recipe, but he brushes you off entirely. Says it's his pleasure, even.

Usually, you would have offered to play some sort of card game, but Grim has completely fallen asleep at the table, and you're beginning to feel a bit tired yourself, so you excuse yourself to put Grim to bed.

You swear you were planning on going back downstairs to clean up the dishes, but you sat down for two seconds on your own bed and that was the last thing you remembered.

At least, that was the last thing you remembered until you felt that bleary awareness that comes with waking up. You know how when you wake up, you're aware of everything but paying no particular attention to anything? It was that, except as the seconds ticked by, you were growing more acutely aware of a disconcerting wetness between your legs paired with a feeling of... fullness? A stretch, something grinding into you.

You looked to the side, noticing Grim was completely asleep and snoring. You moved to sit up, coming to the stark and sudden realization that the weight on top of you was, in fact, not a blanket.

"Dumb bitch." That sounded like Epel, and his voice was white-hot against your ear, "I'm gonna show you just how virile I am."

You, understandably, begin to panic, since you barely know what's going on through this weird bleary haze you're currently under, but are aware enough to know that this is being done without your consent. You kick your legs and realize that they're in the air, your knees closer to your ears than you'd like.

You take in a breath to scream, because maybe, just maybe someone is standing outside, despite your horned friend leaving campus many years ago, and you're immediately thwarted by Epel's lips crashing against yours.

He pulls away to mumble, "I'm gonna make a wife and mother out of you."

Your head felt so heavy, and Epel chuckles at your expression.

"Go on ahead and tell me you won't make a great mama. I wanna hear it from you." His tone is light, mocking, even.

You can't muster anything more than a garbled series of noises that resembled pleading for him to stop.

He ignores you completely to kiss your sweaty temple, "Think I used too much a'that potion."

"Why?" You managed to ask, then louder, "Why?"

Epel doesn't answer you right away, but you feel his hips still and his cock twitch inside of you.

And then he says, almost happily, "Do you think it'll be a boy or girl?"

You don't get the chance to answer before he's moving again.

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sashi-ya · 2 years

Note

Hello sashi! Can I request a shinigami!doflamingo,with a reader that's afab gender neutral. I don't mind the kinks xD Meido or Hell? (idk about japanese Lore?? Sorry)

And the prompt can be purgatory? xD if not I don't mind this too whatever you think it suits better to Doffy!

Congrats in the event!

Hola!!! So, since I know I owe you a Doffy fic (cause I just remembered I never posted the previous one for the Royals event) here I bring you a new more sinful one! I hope you enjoy!! Thank u so much for your support, babe! 💜

𝑵𝒔𝒇𝒘 ~ 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊! 𝑫𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒙𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝑫𝒐𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒐 𝒙 𝑮𝒏! 𝑨𝒇𝒂𝒃! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~ 𝑬𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍

➡ Tw: nsfw. Doffy is some kind of shinigami. shibari. overstimulation. punishment. oral. fucking in a dark void where reader is only able to feel but not to see. size kink. fingering. "knife" play (his threads are sharp). imo is kinda dark, my mental image was reader to be tied like crucified, but you can skip that. ➡ Prompt: Purgatory; chose your punishment, eternal pain, or eternal pleasure? ➡ wc: 1.3k ➡ Want more? visit the masterlist

There is a certain Shinigami, that not even Death sometimes can control. He is in charge of reaping the souls of those who deserve Hell.

He wears glasses, and it’s fancy enough to say that he doesn’t care about his uniform. This Shinigami does not have a typical scythe, he uses his fingers. And those fingers are skilful enough to create the sharp edge of a sickle which takes away the souls of sinners.

But who is he to punish the sinners? Doflamingo is a sinner too…The worst of all.

And there was also a sinner, a sinner that had to decide which punish to choose. There isn’t many times when Doflamingo gives this opportunity to mortals, but you were the one to experience his devilishly smirk while asking you so…

“So, you little mortal… welcome to the purgatory, where you will have the privilege to choose your punishment… just cause you look really tasty” he says, while you kneel in front of him. Nothing but the warm dim lights of candles glow up the place. Around is pretty dark, and it feels as if you were over a platform of rocks surrounded by pure void around.

You look at his blonde hair, and those glasses covering his eyes. How is he able to see in such a dark place with those? Perhaps he doesn’t need his eyes to do so.

He is undeniably sexy, but, is it the place for you to still succumb to lust? You are here in the first place because of it, because of being hungry, because of wanting pleasure… is that so bad? Why is it a sin?

You swallow, and even if you are not sure of being allowed to talk, you do, nonetheless. “What should be my options?” you ask, closing your eyes as you see his fingers wiggling in a special way.

“Your options… Mmh? Well, you have to chose in between eternal pain, or, eternal pleasure… But, I must warn you, everything has its consequences… that’s what both are called punishments”

Both options being named with that low but sexy voice sounds as enticing as dangerous, and, even if the most logical path would be to choose the worst of all because he has just warned you that everything has its consequences you don’t falter…

“Eternal pleasure”

A big grin gets plastered on the huge Shinigami’s face. He is pretty tall, and not only is he tall, but also looks well trained and strong. His tongue is as huge as the rest of his anatomy. He gloats at your sudden decision; probably sure you were choosing that one. Sure, and happy, happy that you decided to go that route with him.

“Then it’s done, you have chosen to eternally pleasure me. You will be my slave, you will be my hole, the body I will use until I’m satisfied for all of this eternity of a life” he says, now letting you know why he warned you… “everything has consequences”

As soon as he finishes his speech, his big fingers tangle around your hair. He pulls you up from your kneeling position and pushes you back into the dark abyss.

You begin to fall back, feeling nothing around you but the gravity’s weight pushing your existence into an infinite nothingness. You close your eyes, it’s ok, after all you must be in hell, this should be part of your punishment.

Suddenly you stop falling, your body can’t move. Strings around you hold you tight, like an insect into a spider’s web, like a puppet moved by a puppeteer. “Are you scared, (Name)?” that man asks, knowing your name but you are still ignorant of his.

“I am….not” you whisper, still in pure darkness. You are not really scared, but curious at this point. “What’s your name, sir?”.

“That, you will discover soon little mortal”

The ties around your body begin to squeeze your flesh, and so much they do that they feel like cutting. Sharpest, finest objects that carve marks over your now ragged clothes.

In plain darkness you also suddenly feel his presence around you. His laugh, perverse but sexy reverberating in your ear, his warm breathe caressing your neck. Hands that touch you up and down, how many are they? How comes there are more than two?

“Are you ready for an eternity of pleasure, mh?” he whispers, and licks your neck up and down. “Hmm… yes, sir” you moan, covered in goosebumps.

The ties around your ankles pull in the contrary direction, spreading your legs efficiently and violently. You are not sure in which exact position you are now, since it’s like you were floating in the absence of light, but you don’t care. Probably dimensions are non-existent in Hell.

Engulfed by nothingness, you can only feel. You can’t see, but you can hear, you can smell, and you can taste. You squirm under his unexpected touch over your sex. He laughs, laughs, and laughs. This unknown Shinigami is having the time of his life, playing with the surprise effects of you not knowing what his next step will be.

“Wet… I want you more wet” he mumbles, now sticking his fingers inside you. He uses beckoning motions, violent, also crushing your neck with his free hand. Carotids being pressed, blood flow interrupted to your brain. Dizziness, and faintness mixed with explosive sensations on your lower belly.

Your back arches, and even if it isn’t resting against anything you feel like gripping your hands to almost lightweight silky sheets around you. Moans and whines your lips let out echo all around oblivion, your moans, and his sexy laughter. You can, however, despite not being able to see, imagine his grin close to your lips.

Of course, there is not much your body is able to resist, you are sure you are having more than two fingers going in and out of you, stretching you out. But, of course, this demon of a Shinigami isn’t satisfied with that simply stretch. He wants you to scream, to plead for more.

He suddenly stops, kisses now cover your skin. Wet kisses over the neck, that go up until your mouth. His teeth trapping your lower lip, pulling. You simply wish you were able to touch him, but you simply can’t. Your hands are tied, almost like crucified.

“Don’t fight to hard nor move, or you may end up cut… these strings are sharp, these are able to cut the chain of your soul… I don’t want you to bury you in hell before I give your proper punishment…” he suggest, as you feel the honed strand against your chest. It burns, but his tongue palliates the pain as he licks over your breasts.

The smell of iron reaches your nose, you are sure you have been at least cut by one of them, but you don’t care as his fingers have never stopped masturbating you and climax takes over your body.

This nameless punisher swallows the cries of pleasure of your body orgasming, but not for so long, since his mouth moves right where you thought you weren’t to take much more.

Wet tongue that now lands on your throbbing anatomy devours your orgasming spasms, giving you more, more and more. Body that feels like bursting from the inside out, overstimulating, prolongating an orgasm to the point of almost loosing consciousness. And you keep going, feeling your muscles tense, your bones on the verge of breaking, almost losing your mind…

Not enough, is not enough. Eternal? Eternal pleasure?

Yes, eternal… that’s the catch…

A never stopping orgasm, and the intrusion of his sex into yours. You were not ready; you feel like you expand even if you were sure you couldn’t do it. You feel your walls on the verge of snapping, but the pleasure is so big, so endless. So eternal.

“You wanna know my name?” he says, in between pants as he thrusts into you, and you can feel your belly growing as he goes deeper. “Y-yes…”

“Doflamingo is my name, welcome to your punish, the eternal pleasure… a never-ending climax… now, take my cum on and on and on…”

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fluffyprettykitty · 2 years

Note

Selene you lovely, kind soul!! Congrats on your well earned recognition! SO glad you're celebrating, you deserve it!

I am a total simp for you so would like to request an TWS AU with my beloved VA Support Worker Sam Wilson + dark!reader (plus sized reader would make me squeal!). If you wanted you could incorporate the prompt: You're gonna beg for it, baby

I love sweet VA Sam but his life was boring before Cap. Let's complicate that a bit 😈 If this isn't speaking to you, no presh!

So happy to have met you, you make my tumblr days brighter 💖

Gonna go back to drooling

"DOMINION"

Pairing: Sam Wilson x dark! plus sized! female reader

Word Count: 1050 words

Outline: After dinner, you can't wait to feast on the beautiful man sitting across from you.

Warnings: dub/con || non/con, food mention, alcohol mention, use of drugs, pet names, daddy kink, come shot, heavy nipple play, thigh riding, love bites, multiple sex positions, face riding, sub! sam, please read the warnings carefully!

Author’s Note: Merc you sweetest girl with the most delicious mind. Thank you so much for this, I have never written dark reader before and I hope I did this story justice. This is the last drabble from my sleepover here.

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Sam Wilson Masterlist

"This tastes like heaven."

Sam proclaims as the shallows down another bite of the food you had prepared for him. It was a Friday night and you had invited him over for dinner and a movie. But you haven't decided on the movie yet. Not like there was gonna be one anyway.

Sam was dressed in a white polo shirt, his muscles visible underneath the tight fabric and he had paired it with dark jeans with a thick leather belt. You had a dress on, satin and low cut just how you liked it.

It had been two months since you two had met and the flirtatious nature of Sam and your strong and ice-cold stare is what brought you together. Although it was the first time he was visiting your home and certainly not the first time you had seen each other naked. Thank god for tinted windows and narrow streets.

"It's time for dessert sweet baby." You tell him with a wink getting up with your empty plates in your hands shaking your beautiful body and your curves as you go. Oh, you knew how much of an ass man he was. He simply could not stop staring.

In the quiet of the kitchen, you prepare the dessert making sure to drop a couple of droplets from your favorite liquid. He would never know. It was almost untraceable. And you weren't like all the other girls.

Carefully you place each plate on your sides but you finally decide to only come out with one. You could have dessert later.

"I came to feed you, daddy." Sam chuckles as he pulls his chair a little back motioning for you to sit on his meaty thigh. You do so by settling the plate on your hand and opting to scoop up the chocolate dessert with your fingers.

"Open up big boy." Sam obediently opens his mouth staring at you as you push your finger inside his mouth. He greedily licks his tongue all over your finger and you can already feel him getting excited for you.

"That's a good baby right there." You praise him as you feed him, every time pushing your finger more and more inside his mouth and watching him eagerly accept it. Oh, you had him right in the palm of your hand.

Soon enough he starts to get dizzy and long before he could even protest he collapses his face on your breasts.

He was big and heavy but you managed just fine.

A little while later he woke up, laying on your fully clothed. You had just finished dressing him up.

As he begins to rub his eyes trying to make sense of where he is, you straddle him. Wearing nothing but a black negligee very tight against your body, all of your voluptuous figure on display just for him.

"Hey, big daddy."

He bites his bottom lip as he watches you rub your bare pussy against his crotch pushing the fabric down your breasts.

"I couldn't help myself. You looked so good like that."

Sam doesn't protest, he figures it must have been the alcohol or the fact that he is tired so he rises up to pull you into a steamy kiss. His hands wrap around your back pulling you closer to him and he hungrily feasts on your lips before moving down to his neck.

Oh, he was delicious.

So clueless.

He sucks on your neck as his hands move to cup your ass and he slowly moves to your breasts. Bringing one hand the other teasing your ass line, he pushes up your right breast and possessively feasts on it. Starting from the top till he sucked on your nipple like he was trying to find his God.

You let him use your body as he wants for a bit, sneaking your hands under his shirt to drag your nails against his skin.

"I have to get inside you, baby." He mumbles against your nipple before pulling it again with his teeth.

With a strong grip on his broad chest, you begin to push him down. He lets you do it and lays back on the bed after firstly taking off his shirt and tossing it to the floor. Your lipstick stains on his nipples are still visible and you smirk to yourself. Not bad work at all.

He then moves to push his zipper down and his hands touch your inner thigh while you are pushing the negligee up and away from your body, he stares at the markings on your thigh.

"What?" He asks and his fingers trace the cum stain on your thigh, his eyebrows drawn.

"You're a very hungry boy, Sam". You scold him and toss your clothes on the floor, pushing up your body against his.

"And a really good boy, Sammy. Very pretty, very obedient. I'm very impressed with you and your beautiful cock. And I think you can learn to become even better. "

You push him down again as he is still within a mixture of shock and confusion. Maybe he is dizzy from the booze, or maybe he was on a sugar high. You straddle him better and then proceed to ride his face. Quickly moving your body to sit on his face pushing your wet pussy on top of his plump lips. Sam's hands wrap around your thighs pulling you closer.

"But you're gonna have to beg for it, baby."

The tall man ate you out twice in a row feasting on your pussy as he has never before. Like your nectar was the sweetest he could ever find. His grip on your hips was so strong that now they were covered in markings. He wanted to show you how much he could please you. How good he was.

And when you pushed yourself off him, he waited patiently for your next move. You rode his cock again and again, in every imaginable position, sucking him off between switches and warning him not to cum.

By the time you finally let him finish again he was rubbing his cock weakly against your thigh, his eyes completely shut, his mind blanking.

Maybe that was your favorite.

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary!

#selene answers prompts #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam Wilson drabble #dark!reader #captain america x reader #captain america drabble #captain america x you #selenewrites

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moon-spirit-yue · 10 months

Text

Fought for Me

Chapter 7: A Promise, a Late Night Rendezvous

(TW WARNING! There will be intense injury in this chapter due to the fact that Sisu got shot. It won’t be too gruesome but I wanted to give everyone a heads up! Enjoy!)

Rage quickly filled Raya’s body at seeing the arrow pointed at her heart. After everything, and Raya really means everything, that’s happened between them? Namaari was seriously going to screw her over like this? Oh Raya could actually kill her right now! And she definitely would have, if Namaari was the one with the arrow.

Though it took Raya a couple of seconds to process what was happening, her brain finally caught up when Namaari moved in front of her to block the arrow. As it would turn out, the voice that claimed to be taking the gem pieces was from a man.

Raya was rather embarrassed to find that with Namaari’s body moving right in front of her her, she couldn’t see what was happening. She decided to poke her head above Namaari’s shoulder to get a better view. Along with the man that just spoke, there were about fifteen or so Fang warriors with weapons.

Now that’s what Raya calls a problem.

“Stand down, Wahn. That is an order,” Namaari stated in an eerily calm voice.

Damn, that voice made Raya want to stand down and Namaari’s not even taking to her.

“I am operating under direct orders from Chief Virana,” the guy who’s apparently named Wahn stated.

“It is so like my mother to try and ruin my life,” Namaari mumbled to herself.

Raya frowned, thinking that maybe Namaari might have set this up. That there was some elaborate and devious plot to dupe Raya into thinking the Fang princess is innocent before utterly destroying her.

But Namaari’s not wearing scent blockers. She smells confused, distressed, and even a little betrayed. Probably due to the fact that her own mother has very different ideas handling whatever this situation is.

Point of the matter is that scent doesn’t lie. That means Namaari was truly only here to do what’s right. She had no intention of betraying Raya. And stupid Wahn is ruining it. Toi, what kind of name even is Wahn anyways? It’s the kind of name for losers.

“Step aside, Princess Namaari. There’s no reason for you to injury yourself for the likes of her,” Wahn stated, gesturing to Raya in disgust.

Rude as hell.

“Speak of her in such a manner again and see what happens,” Namaari growled before Raya could even respond.

Though she absolutely loathed to admit it, hearing the taller woman sound so protective over her made Raya a little too pleased. Her omega too. Why can’t Raya ever actually focus when she needs to?

“You know, I think we can all just, take a step back for a moment and reflect on our actions,” Sisu awkwardly interjected, likely trying to diffuse the situation.

Seeing the dragon begin to move closer, Wahn decides to aim the arrow at Sisu’s chest.

“I swear to all that is good in this world Wahn, if you pull that trigger I will personally see to it that you never touch a mere kitchen knife again,” Namaari warned.

“I have been given my orders and I will not go against them,” Wahn declared. “All of you either come with me willingly or we will have no choice but to take you by force.”

“I really hope you didn’t trust me enough to not bring a weapon because I do not have one,” Namaari whispered.

Suddenly Raya regrets insisting on a peaceful, no weapons meeting.

“I brought my father’s sword but I’m not too sure what that’s gonna do against a tiny army!” Raya fearfully whispered back.

“Give me the sword, I’ll do what I can to hold them off while you gather the others to safety,” Namaari mumbled while the Fang soldiers appeared to be getting more trigger happy by the second.

“Are you kidding me? You’ll look like a pin cushion if you go through with this! Your plan is awful. Seriously, why can’t I associate with someone who doesn’t think of garbage plans?” Raya scowled.

“Raya, for once in my life I’m actually doing the right thing, so stop-” Namaari had begun to say.

This is where it all went wrong. Raya’s not sure who did, but someone stepped on a twig. That was enough for everything to go to hell.

The sudden noise had to have startled the Wahn guy because even he looked surprised when he pulled the trigger. Normally, Raya had the sense to move and avoid a weapon being flung right at her, but she honestly couldn’t. Princess Raya of Heart is still as statue.

Her lack of action ultimately didn’t matter because Namaari took the liberty of throwing Raya to the ground, effectively getting the Heart princess out of the way of any arrows that may pierce through her. Both Namaari and Sisu were not as fortunate.

When stupid Wahn pulled the trigger, it unleashed a wave of arrows from the rest of the Fang army. The rest of Raya’s human companions were far away enough to be out of the danger, but in Namaari’s efforts of keep the omega from the crossfire, she ended up getting pierced by an arrow in the process.

The arrow got stuck in Namaari’s left leg, causing her to scream in pain and collapse on the ground.

“Oh my gods!” Raya shrieked as she fell to her knees and git a closer look at the injury.

Raya’s panic mixed with Namaari’s pain was nothing compared to what they both felt after they saw one of the many arrows stab Sisu straight through the heart. The dragon didn’t scream, it all happened much too quickly for her to react. Instead, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her body gave out. Raya could do nothing but scream as Sisu fall off the side of the cliff hit the ground.

Naturally, things went from bad to worse. Raya, still close to Namaari’s heavily injured body, leaned over the edge of the cliff to see what was at the bottom. What she saw would give her nightmares for years.

All the water had seemingly evaporated the moment Sisu was shot. The protection that Fang once held was gone. Everyone’s protection is gone. Raya’s mind jumped to Charanya and Aulia. They had nowhere to go. Her baby would turn to stone and there’s absolutely nothing she can do about it.

Tears began streaming down her face without Raya even realizing it. At this point, she just felt defeated. Not only did she lose the only thing that could have brought her father back, but she also lost one of the best friends she’d ever had.

Namaari’s groan of snapped her out of her thoughts and she quickly wiped her eyes to try and asses the damage.

“I’m so sorry. You’re a pin cushion because of me,” Raya sniffled, trying really hard to fight back sobs.

“Oh please, this isn’t your fault. I totally had this coming. I’ve been known to be an undercut binturi,” Namaari weakly smiled.

Namaari’s awful joke honestly just made Raya want to cry even more. The Fang woman was shot and yet she was still trying to make Raya feel better.

“If anyone’s sorry here, it’s me. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that I was being followed. You lost your friend because of me. I really am sorry,” Namaari chocked out mournfully.

“Oh don’t be stupid, this wasn’t your fault. That guy was way too trigger happy. I’m sure he would have found a way to get to us either way,” Raya sniffled.

Raya never thought she would be comforting Namaari. And she certainly never thought she would actually mean the words she said. It really does take one instance to change everything.

“That arrow needs to stay in until a proper healer can get their hands on,” Tong stated, causing both Raya and Namaari to jump.

Neither girl had noticed his arrival. Nor did they notice Boun and Noi right beside them. Damn, Raya needs to put a bell on those three.

“Let’s not worry about that now. My people, they need to get out of here,” Namaari said in a strained voice.

Raya’s honestly not too sure where they’re going to go considering the fact that with the water gone, there’s really nowhere to hide.

But, well, it’s better than doing nothing.

“Tong, you go ahead. We need to get everyone that’s not an adult or can’t stand on Tuk Tuk,” Raya said.

Despite Tong’s insistence on staying, Raya reminded him that someone had to help the other Fang citizens. Though he didn’t like it, the Spine man rushed off with a gem piece to try saving as many people as possible from the Druun.

Putting Boun and Noi on Tuk Tuk was no issue. Even the ongis got on without a hitch. The real issue was trying to get Namaari on without accidentally agitating her very prominent injury.

“Seriously, just leave me so that you and your friends can get out here. My people need help much more than I do,” Namaari sighed as yet another attempt to get on Tuk Tuk’s back failed.

Part of it was the fact that it was nearly impossible to get the alpha on the pillbug without digging the arrow deeper in her limb. The other part was the fact that Tuk Tuk is kind of a jackass and scoots away whenever Namaari comes near him.

“Someone’s self sacrificial today. Take it from me, it’s not a good look for you,” Raya frowned.

“Liar, I always look good.”

“You got shot in the damn leg! You look the opposite of good!”

“I look fantastic.”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REITERATE THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SHOT! WITH AN ARROW! TOI HOW STUPID ARE YOU?!”

“There’s no need to yell at the injure-”

“FOCUS PEOPLE! THERE IS A CRISIS!” Boun yelled, effectively breaking up their argument.

Raya sighed and gently guided Namaari on the floor. She knelt in front of Tuk Tuk and crossed her arms.

“Listen, buddy, you gotta let Namaari on your back,” Raya insisted.

The pillbug did not budge.

“Okay, it was kinda funny the first time, but now I just want to get a move on! I get the fact that you’re still upset over being kicked and all but she was literally shot in the leg! I think that’s an acceptable form of retribution! Please Tuk!” the Heart omega begged.

Tuk Tuk, despite the grumbling, lowered himself so that Namaari had a better shot of climbing onto the shell.

With the power of love, friendship, and a lot of painful movements from Namaari, the injured woman was finally on Tuk Tuk.

“Finally! Okay, you two find Namaari a medic and help when you can, I’m going to go straight for finding Tong. I’m sure he needs backup,” Raya told them.

Boun nodded and steered Tuk Tuk off to find people to help and medics to save Namaari. Hopefully they could find help before said medic turned to stone themselves.

******************************

Raya didn’t even feel like she was her own person as she used her gem piece to help guide the Fang citizens back to safety. Her mind jumps from Sisu’s death to Namaari’s injury to how her baby is probably a statue right to how utterly powerless Raya felt right now.

At some point in the fray, she accidentally dropped her gem piece while the Druun was gunning straight for Raya. She absolutely would have become stone if it weren’t for the help of...Namaari?!

There the princess was, in all her alpha Fang glory. Though now she had a thick bandage tightly wrapped around the area it was stuck in. Namaari was leaning on a wooden crutch and seemed to be in a significantly less amount of pain than before, which is great!

The fact that she walking around a battlefield totally pisses Raya off though.

“What the hell are you doing up right now? There’s no way an actual medic cleared you to start hobbling around!” the Heart woman snapped.

“Of course they didn’t,” Namaari simply replied.

“What is your problem?! You are a cripple!” Raya hissed.

“Careful dep la, I might start thinking you care about my well being,” Namaari smirked.

A horrible realization came across Raya, because honestly, she is worried about Nmaaari’s well being. She’s gonna turn to stone before admitting that though. And hey, with the way things are going right now, the chance of that is pretty high.

“Shut up and stay close to me,” was all Raya managed to say.

To Namaari’s credit, she did just that. For someone that only had one leg that actually worked, she managed to be fast and was a great guide to safety. Her expansive knowledge of Fang certainly played a big part in that.

Somehow, they were able to evacuate just about everyone in the town. Tong, Boun, and Noi raced up to her as Tuk Tuk was evacuating the last of the civilians.

“Alright, that looked like everyone,” Boun confirmed when he joined the group.

“Wonderful. Now let’s-” Raya started, before the ground quite literally gave out beneath her.

Panic engulfed her before she realized that she didn’t even hit the ground that hard. Then she discovered that she was laying on top of Namaari.

“Damn, are you okay?! I didn’t hurt your leg too badly, did I?” the Heart woman asked worriedly while scrambling to her feet.

“No, I’m alright. Toi, look out!” Namaari exclaimed as she pointed behind her.

On instinct, Raya shoved the gem piece in the direction Namaari was pointing to. The horrible creature screeched and split off. The omega quickly helped her companion to her feet so that they could both participate in the efforts of keeping the Druun at bay.

“This isn’t working! There’s too many of them!” Tong exclaimed.

Dread filled at the pit of Raya’s stomach. She knew he was right. They wouldn’t be able to survive much longer like this. To top it all off, the glow of the gems was getting dimmer and dimmer.

Noi had begun whimpering and was giving her best effort to hide her face in Tong’s shoulder. Not once had she seen the baby look so terrified. It was starting to break Raya’s heart.

“What do we do? We can’t stop them anymore!” Boun yelled.

What to do is right. Honestly, Raya had no fucking clue what she was supposed to do. This feels like her fault entirely. If she hadn’t gone searching for dragons, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Sisu wouldn’t be dead, just asleep and hope for other generations wouldn’t have been destroyed.

As Raya was continuing her internal spiral of despair, a golden glint caught her eye. The dragon pendent.

She can’t say for certain why she kept the thing after all this time. It would have given her a nice chunk of jade, which she desperately needed during the past six years. And with such negative memories behind how she got the pendant, its sentimental value wasn’t all that great.

But maybe this is why she needed it. To remind her of what Sisu said.

“Everybody! Give me your gem pieces! We can still put it back together!” Raya told them.

“Sisu’s gone! We don’t have her magic anymore!” Boun oh so kindly reminded her.

“It’s not about the magic, it’s about the trust we have in each other!” Raya yelled, barely being able to hear herself over the Druun’s screeching.

“WHAT?!” Namaari screamed.

Raya’s not sure if Namaari was yelling like that because she genuinely couldn’t hear or because she thought Raya was insane. Either way, it’s a bit hard to give everyone a full play by play.

“I don’t have time to explain everything, people! All you guys need to know is that the reason why the gem worked the first time is because Sisu’s siblings trusted her with their lives! We need to trust each other like Sisu wanted us to, even if her plans were garbage!” Raya told them.

“How can you be sure this will work?” Tong asked while simultaneously evading another attack from the Druun.

“I don’t, but it’s the only chance we have! C’mon, circle of trust people, let’s do it!” Raya exclaimed.

Boun, Tong and Noi were shooting glances at each other. Then they’d look at Namaari, then at Raya, then back at each other. They’re not sure what to make of Namaari, since it’s obvious she had meant to stop this madness before being followed. Even so, they’re hesitant. Since everyone layered up on scent blockers earlier that morning, she can’t exactly smell what they’re feeling, but she doesn’t need to. It’s written all over their faces. Raya knows what she has to do.

Though Raya was shaking like a leaf, she put her gem piece in Namaari’s hand. She tried stepping back to let the Druun, uh, consume her? Is that what they do? But the Fang woman was faster, and got a vice like grip on Raya’s wrist.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Namaari hissed.

“I’m taking the first step,” Raya said as if it was obvious.

“Look who’s trying to be the self sacrificing one now? You’re so hypocritical,” Namaari snapped.

“Maybe I just wanted to be more like you, Namaari,” Raya stated.

“I feel like you should know that self sacrifice isn’t a good look on you either,” Namaari declared.

“I bet I wear it better than you,” Raya smirked.

“You wish, dep la,” Namaari whispered.

Raya tried to take a step back, but the other woman’s grip around her wrist was something fierce. Okay, now Raya’s a bit annoyed. The only way for this to work is to prove that Raya trusts Namaari. How the hell is Raya supposed to prove anything if Namaari is keeping her hostage?

“Let me go, Namaari. I know what I’m doing,” Raya said softly, trying soothe her.

“I’m not sure why you’re being so risky. You have a kid, so I should be the one giving you my gem piece,” Namaari tried arguing.

Hah! If that’s the case, then Namaari shouldn’t give up her piece either. Not like Raya can make that argument, though.

“Do you trust me?” Raya asked.

Namaari nodded. The omega woman could smell the utter terror her companion had.

“Then let me do this. It will work,” Raya insisted with all the conviction she could muster.

Reluctantly, Namaari loosened her grip on Raya’s wrist. Despite the many survival instincts screaming at her not to, Raya stepped into the fray of the Druun with no protection. All she could do was imagine her family as the life left her very being.

******************************

Raya felt a droplet of water plop on her head. Then another. Before she knew it, she could move her face. Then the hands that were originally cupping water flopped to her sides. Namaari had done it.

She turned her head to see Namaari gasping for air. The Fang princess’s hand was already resting on Raya’s shoulder, a comforting warmth exuding from it. Namaari automatically turned to her left to see Raya looking right at her.

Namaari smiled in utter relief and squeezed Raya’s shoulder with her hand. Choked up by the dozens of emotions the Heart woman felt, she just mustered a smile right back and brought her left hand up to squeeze Namaari’s.

Raya and Namaari were snapped out of the little trance they were in when they heard Boun yelp and face plant on the ground. Raya resisted the urge to laugh at the fall and helped him up after he finished wiggling his legs. Tong and Noi were quite literally jumping for joy after feeling the rain hit.

“Oh toi, Tuk Tuk! He must have been so scared! C’mon, let’s get up there!” Raya yelled while pointing to the exit.

“That’s your big concern right now?” Namaari asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, my father and baby are totally fine right now because Charanya’s got them. Oh toi, my father’s not stone anymore!” Raya exclaimed, barely allowing herself time to process the truth in that statement.

“That’s right, and it’s all thanks to you, dep la,” Namaari smiled.

“Well, I suppose I can’t take all the credit. You’re no slouch yourself, binturi,” Raya giggled.

******************************

“They do know we are right here, right?” Boun asked.

“Let them have this. Something tells me this is going to get very complicated very quickly,” Tong sighed. Noi nods in agreement.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

******************************

Raya almost ate shit like three times trying to climb out of that stupid cave like structure. It was hard enough trying to balance herself, but then she was also yanking on Namaari’s arm so that she can at least try to stay upright.

The group of five plus three ongis finally broke though to the surface. Raya began eagerly looking around for Tuk Tuk the second she was on solid ground. Only a couple second later was Raya blessed with Tuk Tuk’s adorable face barreling right to her.

“Oh, my baby! I love you so much, bud,” the Heart woman cooed as she began affectionately scratching his perfect little head.

“No way! Look up!” Boun yelled.

Confused, Raya did just that. Honestly, she’s never seen anything more magnificent in her entire life.

There in the sky was dragons. Hundreds of them, all varying shades of all different colors zipping through the sky. Raya laughed from pure awe at seeing these legendary creatures in the flesh.

“I can’t even believe this,” Raya whispered.

“Me neither. The dragon nerd in me is kind of freaking out right now,” Namaari mumbled in awe.

Raya could smell the fascination all over Namaari. Her scent had become much sweeter with a surprisingly strong hint of citrus. (Now’s really not a good time to remember the fact that Raya loves anything with citrus.) There’s nothing that can truly describe how she feels in this very moment.

“I just wish Sisu could be here to see this. It wouldn’t be possible without her,” Raya sighed mournfully.

As if the dragons all somehow heard her, they began rapidly flying in the air. It almost looked as though they were preforming some kind of choreographed dance in the sky. A blob of water appeared in the middle of the action and it morphed into none other than Sisudatu.

“AYE SISU! GET OVER HERE!” Raya yelled happily.

At the speed of light, the water dragon nose dived straight to where the little group was huddled up.

“I gotta say, saving the world has left me positively starved,” Sisu grinned.

“I’ve got some spare jackfruit jerky if you’d like,” the omega giggled.

“Raya, I love you so much, but I will never be that hungry,” Sisu bluntly stated.

The Heart woman merely laughed and lunged at Sisu to get a hug. Sisu swiftly returned it and squeezed her tightly.

“Awww, get in here everybody! And yes, I’m talking to you too Namaari!” Sisu declared as she scooped up the five humans in a tight hug.

“Ah, it is good to breathe in your glorious dragon stench once more,” Tong exclaimed.

“I choose to take that as a compliment!” Sisu said as she squeezed everyone tighter.

“Okay, now it’s getting hard to breathe,” Raya wheezed out before everyone was released.

“There’s a fifty percent chance that the Shrimporium was demolished, but if it wasn’t, you guys want to hitch a ride?” Boun asked once the joyous reunion was over.

“I’d love a ride, Captain Boun. Provided that there is a boat to ride,” Raya nodded.

“I too wish to venture back home on the boat that brought us here! If it’s an option,” Tong agreed.

Noi babbled something and she was smiling, so Raya assumed that meant she was cool with tagging along.

“What about you, Princess Namaari? You gonna ride along with us?” the young boy asked.

“If you’ll have me, then of course. I do need to discuss things with my mother before going anywhere, though,” Namaari told the group.

“Good luck with that,” Raya smirked.

“Yeah, I’ll need it. Raya, before we leave, I was hoping I’d be able to talk to you,” Namaari whispered to avoid the others listening in.

That may be a problem. Raya’s not entirely sure what they’re going to talk about, but she can almost guarantee that the Heart woman is going to hate whatever topic they come across.

But hell, the dragons were back. Sisu is alive and her father is no longer stone. Charanya’s family is also no longer stone and she can’t run the risk of being stone either. Aulia never has to see the Druun for as long as she lives. Raya can deal with an uncomfortable conversation.

“Sure, let’s talk down at the docks. We need to see if Boun’s poor boat is salvageable anyways,” the Heart princess nodded.

Once Raya let everyone know of their plas, she marched on to their destination with Tuk Tuk in tow. Namaari had no complaints and followed after her. The Fang alpha was clearly having a difficult time keeping with Raya’s anxious speed walking pace, so she had to force herself to slow down.

In what felt like absolutely no time and all the time in the world, they arrived at the docks. The good news is the fact that the Shrimporium is intact. Got to look on the bright side, after all.

“Why don’t we sit on the pier? I wouldn’t want to strain a cripple,” Raya smirked.

“Toi, consider this the last time I save your life. Your mockery is the only thanks I get,” Namaari scowled with no real bite in her voice.

The Fang woman eased herself on a bench and Raya sat right beside her. Raya almost instantly regretted that decision as the smell of soil and citrus surrounded her, making it hard for Raya to focus. Namaari really needs to get a move on with this chat.

“So, what’s up?” Raya questioned. Namaari took in a long, shaky breath before speaking.

“I just wanted to apologize. For everything, really. I never should have betrayed you back when we were kids. Even then, I knew it was wrong and I shouldn’t have done it. And I realize that what happened on the hill wasn’t entirely on me, but I still should have done something to stop it. I am so sorry, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I wanted to let you know I’m sincerely remorseful for everything I’ve done and I have every intention of making it up to you, however I can. If you let me, of course,” Namaari finished off very bashfully.

“I forgive you,” Raya simply said. And she meant it.

“Wait what?” Namaari asked, clearly dumfounded.

“I said I forgive you. I forgave you the moment you decided to do the right thing to save everyone. Granted, everything isn’t perfect. It’s going to take some time before we can really trust each other again but I’d like to try if you would,” Raya explained with a rapidly beating heart.

“I’d like that,” Namaari said with an ear splitting grin.

That smile alone could have brought Raya back from stone over how magical it is. Who knew the Fang princess had such a wonderful smile?

“I’m glad,” was the best Raya could come up with.

“Good. Also, about the time where we, uh, spent your heat together-” Namaari began as her face turned bright red.

Ah, see, now it feels like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over her. Raya’s not ready for this. Her mind has been very positive, and she really can not handle hearing how Namaari thought the whole thing was this huge mistake that should have never happened. It didn’t mean anything, so Raya shouldn’t be as scared of this topic as she was. May as well end the conversation before it even starts.

“Yeah, don’t even worry about that!” Raya nearly screamed, effectively cutting Namaari off. “I get it, instincts were crazy, life happens, no worries!”

“No.....worries?” Namaari asked, clearly very puzzled.

“Yeah, no worries! I mean, it’s not like you forced me into doing anything I didn’t feel comfortable with! No harm, no foul,” Raya said while waving her off.

“Right,” Namaari mumbled.

Yikes. Not the reaction Raya was hoping for. Honestly, she’s not even sure what reaction she wanted from Namaari. But now the Fang alpha just sounds weirdly dejected. Then a horrible thought overtook Raya’s mind.

“Shit, I didn’t force you into anything, did I? The memories are kind of hazy,” the Heart woman frantically asked.

To Raya’s relief and annoyance, the other woman laughed.

“Please! You’ve seen your muscles compared to mine, right? There’s no way you were forcing me into anything I wasn’t okay with,” Namaari snorted.

“I’ll have you know, binturi, that I’m crazy strong,” Raya grinned while nudging her.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Namaari said in a provoking manner.

Just when Raya was totally going to prove it, the rest of their companions caught up to them.

“CANNONBALL!” the water dragon yelled as she proceeded to throw herself into the large body of water.

On instinct, Raya jumped up from her seat and hid behind Namaari. Boun and Noi had the same idea with Tong. In a couple seconds both alphas were drenched with water as the other three remained fairly dry.

“Did you actually just use me, the cripple that saved your life, as a human shield from water?” Namaari spat at the Heart princess.

“Maybe,” Raya admitted guiltily.

“When I’m fully healed, you’re going to have to watch your back,” Namaari glared.

“Fair enough,” Raya shrugged.

“How cruel it is to learn that my own companions have betrayed me so,” Tong scowled while looking down at Boun and Noi.

“Sorry,” Boun laughed awkwardly.

Noi, on the other hand, didn’t even look a little sorry.

“Okay, why don’t we talk about things that make us smile, mainly because I’m scared Namaari is going to try stabbing my eye out with her crutch. I know I’m super excited to my family again! Especially my daughter. She’s super cute, and young, Namaari please stop trying to kill me with your eyes,” Raya whispered in fear.

“By the dragons, I nearly forgot due to all the commotion! Tell me, how old is your precious child?” Tong asked happily.

Out of the corner of Raya’s eye, she could see the Fang princess stiffen. Shit. Namaari may be a major binturi, but she’s not an idiot. Basic math would totally give away Aulia’s parentage.

That is, if Raya was honest about her child’s age.

“She’s about a year old now,” Raya lied.

Though she still refuses to look directly at Namaari, Raya can see the other woman’s body visibly relax. Raya tried to ignore the hurt she felt over the obvious relief Namaari experienced when thinking Aulia isn’t hers. Of course the Fang woman doesn’t want a kid, she’s eighteen for heaven’s sake.

This is so coming back to bite Raya. She knows it. But that day did not have to be today.

“Ah, what a wonderful age!” Tong beamed, oblivious to Raya’s inner turmoil.

“Aww, she sounds so cute! Hey, who’s her other parent? I don’t think you ever told us,” Boun asked out of pure childlike curiosity.

Wow, so apparently everyone just loves talking about the subjects Raya is desperately trying to avoid. It honestly feels a little bit targeted. She officially regrets bringing up her child.

The Heart woman began laughing rather nervously when she noticed that Namaari had, once again, seemed very intent on hearing Raya’s answer to these questions about Aulia.

“Haha! Boy oh boy, that is definitely a question! Thanks for that! I’m just so thrilled that the youth today have such inquiring minds! On that note, I’m just going to go make sure Sisu’s not drowning!” Raya exclaimed, avoiding the question like an absolute pro.

And on that note, Raya dived right into the water, despite the confusion from her dearest friends.

Looks like hiding behind Namaari to stay dry was a futile attempt. The cold water was honestly a relief against Raya’s warm skin. It felt like she was on fire up there.

Sisu then noticed Raya swimming around and waved excitedly at her. Raya smiled and waved right back at her. It’s a nice time to be swimming.

The Heart woman then remembered the fact that she is not a water dragon and can not hold her breath for that long. Her lungs began to burn and she had no choice but to resurface.

Raya popped her head out of the water and was greeted with four utterly confused faces. Eight if you count Tuk Tuk and the ongis.

She might as well give them an update on the water dragon’s condition.

“Don’t worry! Sisu’s all good!” Raya smiled.

Silence.

“BINTURI WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU-”

#raya and the last dragon #ratld #rayaari #namaari #raya x namaari #namaari x raya #raya and namaari #ratld namaari #raya disney #ratld raya #omegaverse #alpha #omega #alpha namaari #omega raya

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