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archived-kin · 3 years

Text

petty ghost haunts their murderer but doesn’t actually do anything vengeful, more at eleven

note from kin: i don’t even know what this is myself to be honest but the simple way of putting it is that you were accidentally killed by one of satan’s fits of rage and now your ghost follows him around and messes with him at any given opportunity out of pettiness

basically i came up with the prompt ‘vengeful spirit is more of a slightly miffed and extremely petty spirit who doesn’t actually do much but inconvenience their hauntee, shenanigans ensue’ and ran with it

(as a heads up, reader is not mc in this situation, and this takes place before any of the exchange program stuff, so belphie’s not in the attic and solomon and the angels aren’t in the devildom)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, satan, beelzebub

pairing(s): satan/reader (though it isn’t particularly romantic since you’re, y’know, dead, so it’s more of a satan & reader)

warning(s): references to death, beel eats an entire rotisserie chicken

genre: crack (with a bit of fluff i guess???)

“For the last time, [Name], put the knife down.”

“Bite me, bitch-boy.”

Satan lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets down his mug of coffee, then reaches out and carefully pushes the floating butter knife pointed directly at his jugular back down onto the table. “I don’t know why you keep trying that. You do know it wouldn’t actually get through my skin even if you did manage to hit me, right?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” comes your disembodied voice from somewhere near the ceiling. You’ve probably decided to float up there to sulk like you always do after a failed attack.

“I’d prefer you didn’t think about it at all.”

A still-wet towel pulls itself from the rack on the wall and hits him square in the face. Satan gives an exasperated groan as it slides down his face and lands on the table with a soft splat.

“That’s what you get,” You sniff indignantly, finally materialising in front of him with a scowl. You’re floating upside down in a way that makes it look like you’re standing on the ceiling. “Buttface.”

“Come on, you can come up with better material than that,” Satan shakes his head, pushing back his chair and picking up the wet towel you’ve just flung at him to hang it back up again. “Where did all your creativity from yesterday go?”

“Six feet under with the remains of my body, probably,” you reply with a scowl. Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Confounded cheese wheel.”

“Oh, that’s a new one,” He comments, mildly surprised. “Where’d you pick that up?”

“Made it up myself. Ha!” You bob past him and through the wall, most likely to go terrorise Mammon by making his lights flicker on and off again. “Guess my creativity isn’t as dead as I am after all.”

“You still haven’t gotten over that, I see.” He sighs.

Your head immediately pops back out of the wall and glares across the room at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been weeks now - months, even,” Satan explains carefully as he sits back down at the table, not wanting to aggravate you further. The last time he'd brought something like this up, he’d ended up making you so angry that you’d managed to become physically corporeal enough to fling him across the room. “I would have thought you’d have passed on by now, that’s all. Surely it doesn’t take this long for the gates to the Celestial Realm to open?”

You consider his words, apparently appeased by their logic. “...I guess. Maybe I’m not passing on because I can’t rest in peace yet, like the ghosts do in horror films.”

“They’re films, you can’t expect to apply what happens in them to reality,” Satan replies flatly. “Besides, even if that was the situation, you've met all the criteria to 'rest in peace’, haven't you?”

“Are you trying to tell me, the dead one here, what merits as ‘resting in peace’?” You counter, floating back through the wall so that your entire body is in the room again. “My murderer’s still walking about like he doesn’t dress in the entire green colour spectrum and think it’s a good idea. How am I supposed to rest in peace knowing that?”

Satan looks down at his outfit, a little offended. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“What’s right with your clothes?” You shoot back, drifting over to him and passing a ghostly hand through his shoulder, apparently too lazy to muster up the energy to make your hand physical enough to touch him. “Look at it! Your blazer doesn’t even have lapels!”

“It isn’t a blazer.”

“Jacket, then.” You make a move as if to pinch at the fabric, but your fingers just pass right through it like a hot knife through butter. “It doesn’t even fit you. The sleeves are too short.”

Satan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to wear it if it didn’t fit me. Besides, why does it matter to you?”

“The demon I might be doomed to be attached to for the rest of my afterlife has the worst fashion sense in all three realms is the matter,” You sigh dramatically and float up to the ceiling again. “Why do you even wear rip-off jeans if you’re going to put a belt over it?”

“First of all, they aren’t rip-off jeans,” Satan tells you as you start idly making the kitchen light flicker. He should probably tell you to stop doing that whenever you get bored, but he’s gotten so used to it at this point that he can’t really be bothered to. “And, second of all, why does it matter if I’m wearing a belt on it?”

“Rip-off jeans are meant to be ripped off,” You explain with all the patience of a mother explaining something to a curious child, completely disregarding Satan’s first point. “Putting a belt on top of it kind makes that redundant.”

Satan thinks about it for a moment and begrudgingly comes to the conclusion that your statement is correct - not that it makes a difference to him. “...they’re still not rip-off jeans.”

“Think whatever you want to think, burro verde.”

“What?”

“It means green donkey in Spanish.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I took Spanish for, like, three years when I was in high school,” You shrug, and the light brightens and dims slightly with the movement of your shoulders, as if it’s shrugging with you. “Failed all the exams, but at least I got something worthwhile out of it.”

“Three years of linguistic lessons and all you learn is how to string together bizarre insults,” Satan shakes his head. “You really are incorrigible.”

“That’s a big word. You sure you know what it means?”

“Of course I do,” He gives you a slightly disgruntled look. “I wouldn’t use it if I didn’t. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who doesn’t know what incorrigible means, obviously.” You pretend to aim a kick at the spider perched quietly in the corner of the ceiling, but Timothy ignores your efforts to boot him from his web. After a moment, growing tired of bothering the little guy, you ask, “...what does it mean?”

Satan snickers, then answers, sounding as if he’s reading the definition directly out of a dictionary, “In reference to a person or their behaviour, unable to be changed or reformed.”

You contemplate his words for a few seconds. “Is that a good thing?”

“Not usually when that particular word is used for it, no.”

“Oh. Bitch.”

He pauses at that, moving his mug of now marginally cooler coffee away from his mouth again, having been in the middle of taking another sip when you decided to insult him again. “Where did that come from?”

“You called me incorrigible, which you just said is not a good thing to be,” You explain as if it’s obvious, frowning down at him. “So I’m taking it as an insult and insulting you back. Bitch.”

“You didn’t have to say it again.”

“I didn’t, but it’s fun to call you names.” You snort and glide down from the ceiling to float above the table, crossing your legs and pretending to sit down on it. “It’s not as fun as it used to be, though. You never get all puffed up about it anymore.”

“That’s your own fault for doing it so much that I got used to it,” Satan reproaches. “Besides, it was pointless getting angry. It’s not like I can do anything to you in return.”

“You could ignore me and pretend I don’t exist or something.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“No!” You hurriedly throw up your hands in a gesture of surrender and shake your head so hard that Satan swears he actually feels a breeze - an even more impressive achievement considering that your body isn’t even tangible. “Please don’t. You’re the only being in the entire universe that I can actually interact with.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that is a good thing,” Satan mutters.

“It’s a good thing for me, and that’s all that matters,” You reply, unfazed.

No one other than Satan appears to have the ability to see you, which is an odd thing in and of itself. Ghosts aren’t a foreign thing to the Devildom - they’re so common that you could probably just walk into a convenience store and find one shelving cans of soup - but you don’t seem to follow any of the rules that they do. Sometimes Satan wonders if you’re able to actively choose to not allow his brothers to see you as you drift around the house, but then again, he’s pretty sure that, if you had the option to make Lucifer watch you pretend to fist fight that weird skeleton hanging in his room, you definitely would.

Satan doesn’t pretend to understand the laws of your otherworldly existence - he’s read so many variations on the rules behind lingering spirits like you that he can scarcely tell the difference between pure fiction and actual logical hypothesis. It’s easy enough to wrangle you into behaving for a day so that he can observe you properly by promising to leave his radio on for you while he’s out, but the observations themselves never seem to lead to anything. He knows that you’re able to pass through any physical object (as far as he knows), can make lights (of both the electronic and candle variety) flicker at will, can muster up enough physicality to move and touch things if you try, and can phase in and out of perceivable view, but he doesn’t know why you can do any of those things.

“Quit trying to come up with explanations for everything,” You’d told him wisely a month or so ago, when you’d floated in on him muttering to himself about the possibility of something called ‘ether energy’. “You’re just gonna give yourself a headache.”

Then you’d started making his candles flicker like disco lights until he stopped.

“...but I don’t think he spotted me, since he probably would’ve commented on the floating meat cleaver if he did, and— hey, big guy!”

That last exclamation is aimed at Beel, who has just walked into the kitchen and is now rummaging unceremoniously through the fridge, most likely in search of something to eat. At this point Satan’s pretty sure that you still don’t know any of his brothers’ names - at the very least, even if you do, you’ve never called them by them.

Beel continues to sort through the various already empty boxes and containers in the fridge as you start zooming back and forth through him, marvelling over the sheer broadness of his chest and shoulders. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this to him - or indeed any of the brothers - but Satan can tell that it’s more innocent awe than any kind of objectification or intent to harm, so he doesn’t mind. As mischievous as you are, he’s pretty sure you don’t have a genuinely malicious or wanton bone in your body... well, you don’t have any bones anymore - or a body, for that matter - but the point still stands.

“Hungry?” He guesses, but it’s honestly more of a statement. It is Beel, after all.

The Avatar of Gluttony withdraws from his search briefly to offer a nod. “I didn’t get to finish all of my lunch.”

“Well, there’s a surprise,” You comment as Beel sticks his head back into the fridge, finally tiring of buffeting yourself back and forth like a pendulum and choosing to start hovering just over the second youngest’s shoulders to watch his hunt. “Wonder what he was up to that got him to stop eating.”

Satan opens his mouth to reply, then stops and closes it again. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Beel with the not-really-a-secret of your existence, but he’s sure that at some point or another, Beel will end up letting it slip to Lucifer, who would most likely want to know why your death ended up attaching your spirit to his brother, and Satan’s already gone to great lengths to make sure that the oldest won’t find out about the rampage he went on that cost you your life in the first place. It'd just be a waste of that effort for Lucifer to find out anyway. Besides, it isn’t like the information will make much difference to Beel - he can’t see or hear you, and you’re pretty harmless, so there wouldn’t be any need for him to get involved in the situation anyway.

You, meanwhile, are well aware that Satan isn’t going to be saying anything to you while one of his brothers is in the room - you don’t really understand his reasoning for it, since you like to think that you’re a pleasure of a ghost to know, but you suppose you can’t really force him to make any decisions. Besides, you’re pretty content with the way things are right now; you don’t want to complicate the situation by bringing in another demon who, as far as you know, might just smite you on the spot if they find out about your existence.

Instead, you busy yourself with watching in fascination as Beel somehow pulls what looks like a rotisserie chicken from the very back of the fridge and shove the whole thing in this mouth. You exchange slightly disturbed looks with Satan as he begins to chew - you’re pretty sure you’ve just seen him dislocate his jaw like a snake to fit it in there.

“You might want to calm down, Beel,” Satan advises after a brief moment’s stunned silence, though even he knows that it’s a fruitless warning. “You’ll end up choking.”

Beel nods, but makes absolutely no move to slow in his aggressive chewing.

“This must be what the peak of evolution looks like,” You say in bemused awe as Beel finishes eating. The entire chicken has disappeared down his throat - bones and all. “How the hell does he manage that?”

Satan doesn’t answer, but his subtle shrug says that your guess is as good as his.

Much to your surprise and Satan’s resignation, Beel immediately goes back to the fridge, apparently unsatisfied by the copious amount of fowl he’s just eaten. To be honest, you feel sorry for the guy - while the you from when you’d still been able to eat would have done some unspeakable things to be able to consume as much as he does and still remain that fit, you’re sure that the black hole he calls a stomach must be an awful thing to have to deal with. At least he gets to enjoy a lot of food because of it, though you suppose it’s a double-edged sword if he’s also constantly being scolded for it. Personally, you don’t understand the reasoning behind telling someone off for eating as much food as they need, but they are demons. You probably shouldn’t expect them to have that level of compassion.

By the time you break out of your train of thought, Beel has found something else to eat amidst the many empty boxes in the fridge. It’s much smaller than the rotisserie chicken - some kind of pastry with a dollop of snowy white cream on top, decorated with a few lines of melted chocolate to look like a cat’s face. In fact, it looks almost identical to…

“Hey, wait!” You swipe a useless hand through Beel’s arm as he raises the pastry to his mouth. “Don’t eat that—!”

Too late. The pastry disappears into Beel’s mouth, and you drift backwards again, letting out a defeated groan. Satan shoots you a curious look - you can’t eat, after all, so why are you so upset about Beel eating that pastry? Is there something special about it?

His question is answered when he actually turns to look at his younger brother. The Avatar of Gluttony has gone rigid on the spot and is blinking rapidly, his eyes the size of moons.

“Beel…?” Satan questions hesitantly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Beel takes a long moment to respond, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Satan takes a closer look and realises that Beel’s pupils seem to have dilated to an almost impossible degree, resembling a cat’s eyes when it’s about to go absolutely feral. Whatever it is was in that pastry, it’s definitely hit him hard.

Now, Satan isn’t one to interrupt good fun when it’s about to happen, so instead of stepping in and performing some sort of spell that might help on his possibly-high brother like a good guy, he sits back and watches as Beel’s head swings around the room as if he's never seen anything in it before like the mischief-loving little shit he is. Beel himself doesn’t appear to be negatively affected, so it can’t be that bad, right?

You float cautiously around the giant as his hands ball into fists. His entire body is trembling slightly with pent-up energy. Then, a split second later, as if he’s been zapped by some catalystic bolt of lightning, he abruptly snaps back on his heel and positively zooms out of the room. You can practically see the cartoony cloud of dust that he’s kicking up as he disappears down the corridor.

“He’s absolutely zooted right now,” You comment, flipping upside with a resigned sigh and crossing your arms a little grumpily. “I told him not to eat it.”

“He couldn’t hear you, you know,” Satan says, moving over to the fridge and slamming it shut, since Beel has neglected to. “What was even in that thing?”

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’ve just been calling it demon-nip.”

“I suppose that it does to demons what catnip does to cats, then?” Satan doesn’t even wait for you to answer before continuing - rude. “How did you even get a hold of it? Never mind that, how did you manage to get it in a pastry and put it in the fridge?”

“I got some help from one of the poltergeists downtown to make it,” You wave your hands about dismissively. “You should pay more attention when you go out. I disappeared for, like, five hours, and you didn’t even notice.”

“When even was this?”

“Tuesday, I think. Remember when you bought that giant bag of cat paw-shaped biscuits and then accidentally dropped the bag in the hall and got them everywhere?”

You don’t miss the way that the tips of his ears go slightly pink as he coughs subtly and averts his gaze. “...why would the poltergeists help you? They hate humans.”

“I don’t know, actually…” You ponder for a moment, then decide, “...probably because I’m cute.”

“Are you?” Satan deadpans. “Cute is what you’d call a cat. You’re just… tolerable.”

“Oh, fuck you, I think I’m adorable.” You huff, flying over and poking him hard in the side of the head. Satan hisses in pain and reaches up to rub the sore spot, but he supposes he should have seen that blow coming - you’re never too humble to make yourself physical enough to hit him after an insult.

“Where did that idea even come from?” He asks quickly, not wanting to take another attack. You may be a mere imprint of a dead human, but your fingers are sharp, and he’d prefer not to provoke you further if he can avoid it.

His change of subject is so abrupt and obvious that it’s almost laughable, but you choose not to call him out on it. As much as you’d like to set him on fire or something, he hasn’t given you a really good reason to commit arson yet, and you’d just end up feeling bad for doing it. Well, to be fair, he did kill you… but still, you don’t want to keep holding that over his head.

“I read it in a book.” You answer. Satan’s eyes light up slightly.

“Do you remember the title?” He asks almost eagerly, and you disguise a snicker. His intentions are practically painted in bright red paint across his face - he’s hoping that there’ll be more schemes like the one you’ve performed that he can use against that sadist of an older brother of his.

Unfortunately for him, the book doesn’t exist. “Yeah. It’s called One Hundred Ways To Get Back At The Ass That Killed You, Free Of Murder and Actual Crimes That Might Get You Persecuted And Sent To Super Hell.”

Satan clearly isn’t thinking very hard today, because for a moment he actually looks as if he believes you - you suppose it’s because he’s grown desensitised to the oddness of such long titles after hearing so many weirdly specific anime titles from the otaku brother that you still have yet to see come out of his room. (You’ve floated in a few times to have a look around and appreciate the decor, but other than that, you’ve barely even seen his face. You’re not even sure what his name is, to be honest…)

He realises what you’re getting at after a moment, though, and immediately frowns at you in disapproval. You just grin, pleased with your small victory.

“You're insufferable,” He says, shaking his head with an long sigh.

“No, I'm cute,” You counter, frowning. “Weren't you listening to me earlier?”

He throws his hands up hastily as you drift forward with a hand brandished and a nasty glint in your eye, unwilling to get jabbed at again. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

You, however, don't relent. Eyes narrowing, you float even closer - so close that, if you'd been physical, he’d have been able to feel your breath on his face. “Say it.”

Satan may be one of the seven most powerful demons in the Devildom (below Diavolo, of course, and possibly Barbatos), but the aggression of a pissed-off ghost, especially if that ghost is you, isn't anything he wants to be on the receiving end of right now. “Fine, fine! You're adorable, you're cute, whatever. Now will you leave me alone?”

You finally pull back, beaming in a gratified fashion. “That's all I wanted to hear!”

Satan gives you an irritated look as you drift back across the kitchen, a satisfied grin on your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’ve said that already,” You sing back, laughing in victory when you see his eyebrow twitch slightly in annoyance. “And you had the nerve to lecture me about creativity earlier! Why don’t you come up with better material, Mr Shoes-Up-My-Ass?”

He doesn’t reply for a good moment, attempting to think of a insult to counter your admittedly slightly juvenile one. Try as he might, though, all of his good jibes seem to have evaporated. “...shut up.”

His pathetic response, of course, immediately compels you to take the piss out of him. Clutching your chest dramatically, as if Satan’s just stabbed you with the knife you’d been waving about earlier, you wail, “Oh, thy words do wound me! 'Tis like thou hath rip’d my heart out with thy own hands!”

Satan glares you for a long moment, but he doesn’t have the heart to keep it up when you’re grinning so brightly. Honestly, you’re a nuisance and a brat sometimes, sure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider you his closest friend at this point. “...do you even know how to use those words?”

You drop the act faster than Asmo throws it down on a Saturday night, shrugging and floating back over to hover just above the chair across from Satan’s. “Nope. It sounded right, though, right?”

“I haven’t read enough works in Old English to know,” Satan admits with a shake of his head. “But it did, I suppose…”

It’s kind of weird that he’s agreeing so easily, you think. Has he just had enough of your bullshit and is complying with to keep you quiet? Or has he just finally seen the light of your brilliance?

...well, you suppose it doesn’t matter. You grin and move to ruffle his hair, but forget to make your hand physical and instead end up flying right through his head. Satan shudders slightly - though he doesn’t feel it, it’s still weird to have an entire hand and arm go through his cranium.

“Could you not?” He complains as you right yourself and pull your hand back again. “This feels weird.”

“Baby.”

“Pet names aren’t going to do anything,” He sighs, pulling his chair to the side so that he’s no longer half-inside your torso. “Hands to yourself.”

“No, it was an insult,” You correct him. “I was calling you a baby. Though bitch-boy works too.”

Satan lets out a long sigh. Now you’re just back where you started.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagines #satan x reader #except it's more of a satan & reader #crack #ghosts #swd satan #swd beelzebub #I've taken a look through my obey me drafts and noticed a pattern #if i'm writing about one of the brothers beel always seems to show up as a cameo #now that i think about it this prompt has some real angst potential...#unfortunately i seem to incapable of writing anything but fluf and funny in these trying times #anyway i hope you enjoyed this!!#the ending is super abrupt but i've already spent too long on this thing so just TAKE IT

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

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Words: 5,229 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 7 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl continues to worry about Y/N and wonder about her past, but they continue to bond inside the safe walls of Alexandria.

Your name: submit What is this?

From that day forward, you and Daryl were almost inseparable. The growing closeness between you was obvious and spending your time together was like a subconscious habit you couldn’t break.

When he wasn’t around you, Daryl felt like something was just missing and it seemed you always ended up together, even if it was just to do nothing.

Not too long after your last bad run-in outside the walls, Deanna insisted on having a town get-together as a morale booster. There would be food and a bonfire and supposed comradery. You were lying on your couch when there was a knock on the front door earlier in the day. You winced from the continued soreness in your ribs as you climbed to your feet and when you rounded the corner into the hall you could see Aaron on the front stoop.

You immediately gave him a look when you pulled open the front door.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

You nudged your head as a way to say “come in” and Aaron stepped inside. You walked back up the hallway and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to follow. “I know that isn’t why you came by,” you said.

“It is too!” he argued. “Well… it’s at least one of the reasons…”

“Uh huh.”

“Tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted.

“But just—”

“Aaron, you know I hate this pretend bullshit…”

He sighed heavily. “It’s not pretend. It’s real. This place is real.”

“And so is what’s out there!” you argued back. “Daryl and I just almost died. That just happened! Am I supposed to forget about my busted ribs or this,” you asked, gesturing to the bruising on your neck, which thankfully was starting to fade at last.

Aaron’s face softened and turned apologetic. “No. Of course not. But if we stop trying, if all we do is think about what’s out there… what’s the point of living?”

Goddammit. He had a damn point. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes for a moment. You shook your head. “I hate you,” you said sarcastically.

He smiled. “Love you too. Starts at 7. I’ll wait for you to show up, and if you don’t, I’m going to come get you, okay?” He started to head toward the front door but turned around halfway. “Oh—and hey, maybe think about bringing Daryl with you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “…what’s that mean?” you asked suspiciously.

“What? Nothing! Just—you two are kind of alike in some ways. You know he won’t go unless someone drags him,” Aaron said.

“Uh huh…”

Aaron only grinned back at you. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. You heard him open the front door and returned his shouted goodbye.

“Fuck,” you said aloud. You needed a shower and something to wear that would hopefully cover up worst of the bruising on your neck… At least you could count on dim lighting conditions since it was a bonfire.

That evening, Daryl was sitting on the steps of the house hoping, waiting to see if you would step outside. Finally, he saw you coming out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. You were wearing a long sleeve thermal, with the sleeves partially pushed up to accommodate your wrist brace and the still balmy evening air. You had a light scarf looped around your neck, and Daryl knew that was purposeful. He got up as you came down the stairs and strode toward you.

You saw the archer and couldn’t help but smile at him as he approached. He had that stride, leading more strongly with one shoulder and foot than the other.

“Hey.” There was something about his deep voice that instantly put you at ease and you paused in the middle of the street.

“Hey,” you returned. You noticed again that his hair was shiny and looked soft, clean. He’d obviously cleaned up. “You going to this thing?” you asked.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shrugged. “I dunno. Was thinkin’ about it. You’re goin’?” he asked.

You nodded. “Gonna try. I guess,” you said with a laugh. “Aaron talked me into it…”

“Yeah, uhh—yeah, he came by here earlier, too.” Daryl rocked on his feet a little bit. He wished he was better with words because he really wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful, even just in your jeans and thermal, bruises and broken wrist and all. “Well, if you’re headin’ there I’ll walk with ya.”

You nodded and Daryl fell into stride beside you. As you approached the center of Alexandria, you could already hear loud laughter and conversation and there was a warm glow from lanterns and the bonfire. Kids were running around playing the kinds of games you did when the world was free—Ghost in the Graveyard and Hide and Seek. You shook your head as you took in the scene, your feet faltering a bit. “Surreal, isn’t it?” you said vaguely. Daryl couldn’t help glancing at your expression. Far from looking content or like you were enjoying the domestic scene, your brow was furrowed and there was a faraway look in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he acknowledged. “C’mon. Let’s get a drink at least.”

You followed him through the crowd, feeling somewhat more at ease, more okay with him beside you. Daryl handed you a cold beer and grabbed one for himself, nudging his head over toward the reservoir just outside the circle of firelight and bubble of conversation. As you left the refreshment area you snagged a bottle of whiskey too. You collapsed down onto a wooden bench with a sigh and stared toward the water. You took a long drink from your beer and drummed your fingernails against the glass. Daryl was standing nearby, his blue eyes narrowed as he stared out over the water.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention. “Come on and sit by me at least. Then they can’t accuse us of being totally anti-social.”

He let out a small snort in place of a laugh and rolled his eyes. His stomach fluttered a little as he complied and took the other seat next to you on the wooden loveseat, spinning his beer anxiously in his hands. The bench was small; your shoulders were almost touching.

“Look what else I got,” you said, reaching down and lifting up the bottle of whiskey. Instead of the reaction you expected, Daryl just gave you a calm but perceptive glance.

“Ya plannin’ on gettin’ drunk?” he asked sharply.

You stared down at the bottle in your hand and your eyes fell again on the brace on your wrist. “Maybe,” you said quietly, not even really sure you had said it aloud.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why?” he drawled.

You shrugged. “Does there have to be a reason?”

He licked his lips and leaned back in his seat. “Usually is one, whether or not there needs to be.”

He was annoyingly observant. You’d known him a matter of weeks and he always seemed to see right through you. But you simply uncorked the bottle and took a pull. It burned your lips and left a warm trail all the way down into your stomach. You chased it with another sip of your beer and tried to distract yourself by just staring out at the water again, looking at the glowing orbs of porchlights in the distance reflecting there. Every so often you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you.

“What?” you said, finally turning to face him. You were only a few inches apart. You thought you saw his cheeks grow a bit pink for a moment, but in the dim light you couldn’t be sure.

“Nothin’,” he said, turning away and gazing out across the water the way you had been just a moment earlier.

You sat together in silence for quite a while and although it felt tense at first, both of you relaxed into it. You alternately sipped from your beer and took pulls off the whiskey, a dangerous pattern because you weren’t paying any attention to how much you were drinking and you were a lightweight even before alcohol was a rare commodity.

But the longer you sat, the more you felt like there was a bubble in your chest, growing bigger and bigger and waiting to burst. Finally, you couldn’t hold out in the strenuous anticipation any longer and spoke what was on your mind. “You ever wonder how this place is going to fall?”

Your words were quiet and definitely a bit slurred. Daryl’s eyes snapped over to yours which were already on his face, surprising him as they flickered back and forth between his, holding his gaze steadily. He gulped and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Or when…” you added.

“Yeah…” he agreed again. “I do.”

You sighed and turned back to look at the water. “I think about it all the time,” you said softly, and Daryl thought he heard your voice break. You stood up abruptly and whipped your empty beer bottle into the water, watching the ripples expanding across the small pond. You wavered a little on your feet and Daryl jumped up, hands extended in case you needed to be steadied.

“I think ya better slow down on that booze,” he growled.

You simply gave him a defiant look and took another pull from the bottle. You held it out to him but he only stared you down.

“Nah. If you’re gonna be stupid, then I’m gonna be sober. And I’m gonna get ya some water,” he said, turning to leave. His momentum stopped when he felt your hand gentle on his arm. He looked back at you in shock and couldn’t help the kneejerk way his body stiffened. But it was only from surprise. A split second later his stomach flipped at the feeling of your hand there and he wished you would never take it off. But you had obviously perceived his tension and you withdrew it quickly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, sinking back down onto the bench, wanting to kick yourself for grabbing onto him.

The archer was left puzzled and chewed his bottom lip as he considered you a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

You were alone on the bench, waiting for Daryl to return, your head more than a little hazy from the whiskey, when footsteps approached. You knew they weren’t Daryl’s. They didn’t have his cadence and his footsteps were almost silent, even when he wasn’t hunting or tracking. You turned to see Spencer and internally groaned.

“Isn’t right that you’re over here all alone,” he said, walking around and sitting in the seat that was Daryl’s without any invitation.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, leaning away from him.

“Look pretty alone to me,” he said, downing what was left in his drink glass and actually taking the bottle of whiskey from you to refill it with a healthy share.

“Yeah, well, that seat—the one you’re in—it’s reserved. Already taken,” you said, snatching the bottle back.

He scoffed. “What? By that redneck? Seriously?”

You shot a sharp glare at Spencer, but knew the sting was likely diminished by the glazed look in your eyes on account of the booze. “You know his name. It’s Daryl Dixon. Not ‘that redneck’.”

“Whatever,” Spencer laughed. “Guy’s a nobody. Who cares?”

“I care. Now get the fuck out of his seat,” you growled.

Spencer only smiled back at you. “I think you’re just afraid that if you let me sit here, something might actually happen between us… Come on. You know there’s something here—as much as you fight it. Some spark.”

You stood up abruptly and stepped away from him, scoffing. “What the hell is wrong with you? I feel like I’ve been perfectly clear with you over and over again. Did you forget that I punched you out?” He seemed impervious to your refusal and only stood up too and stepped closer to you.

“Come on, Y/N. You know you want this,” he said, reaching a hand out and trailing his fingers down your arm.

You shrugged him off. “Don’t. touch me. I won’t tell you again.”

He soured somewhat immediately. “What is your problem? Is it seriously something to do with that hick you’re always hanging around? You have something going on with Daryl?” he said, mockingly. “Seriously? What a fucking joke. He’s a mess. Just some—dumb redneck. You deserve way better than him. You deserve someone with their shit together, someone who will string together more than two words at a time. Someone like me.”

You physically recoiled from him again. “You’re a fucking joke. Everything you’ve ever had in life has been handed to you and you’ve turned out to be a spineless, spoiled dick. You have no idea what’s out there and you wouldn’t last a day. You’d be lucky to ever be even a quarter of the man Daryl is.” Your jaw was set. “Now fuck off and go find someone else to bother,” you growled. “Try one of the other sheltered suburbanites. They’d probably fall for your bullshit.”

“I can’t believe this shit,” he muttered angrily, but you heaved a sigh of relief as he stalked off, hopeful that he would finally get the fucking hint for once and leave you alone for good. You turned back to stare at the water in front of you, gentle ripples still bouncing off the shore from when you’d tossed your bottle in. Your uninjured hand went to clasp around your wrist brace absently.

You didn’t know that Daryl was only a few feet away, returning with some water for you, and that he had been watching the entire interaction. And Spencer’s words had stung. Sure, Daryl knew Spencer was an idiot and he certainly had no high opinion of the moron but Spencer had also just verbalized some of Daryl’s own deepest insecurities about himself and even… about you and how you felt about him… and that had stung him deeply. But then came your words… and he felt complete disbelief, sure he had misheard. He felt paralyzed for a long moment as he puzzled over what you had said and how you had said it. But you had been forceful and purposeful. Daryl hadn’t imagined that.

He was so shocked that his boots were rooted in place. He stood there with that cup of water in his hand, dumbfounded, before he finally snapped himself out of it and went around the bench to stand beside you. “Hey,” he said, holding out the water. “I just, uhh—I just saw Spencer stalk off. He looked pretty pissed. Was he botherin’ ya? Are ya alright?”

You accepted the glass and drank deeply from it, suddenly realizing that you actually were pretty thirsty. You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. And maybe now that fucking asshole will finally leave me alone… Idiot,” you mumbled, looking back at the water.

Daryl shifted awkwardly on his feet. His heart was racing as he thought about what you had said. He watched with concern as you took another drink of whiskey from the bottle, this time grimacing a little at the burn. “Would ya quit that?” he asked, drawing your eyes to him.

You studied him for a moment. “Wanna get out of here?” you asked, glancing back at the crowd around the bonfire. Daryl followed your eyes and then looked back at you. His expression was unsure. He was trying to guess at your meaning. “Just—go for a walk or something. We can at least tell Aaron we came,” you said.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, alright. Somebody oughta babysit ya anyway,” he snarked. You pulled a face at him in response and one corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Alright then, chaperone. C’mon,” you said. Bottle in hand, you started to follow the edge of the reservoir, moving away from the glow of the bonfire and the loud laughter and conversation. Daryl walked next to you, content just to walk quietly. You ended up on the other side of the pond from the party, leaning on the railing of the dock and looking back across the water. Daryl walked past you to stand at the end of the dock. You meandered over to him and took in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. You couldn’t help biting your bottom lip. Oh, fuck You are in trouble… you thought to yourself. “Can you swim, Dixon?” you asked him suddenly. He had just enough time to snap around to look at you before you were grinning at him and pushing him hard, your uninjured hand flat in the center of his chest. He went plummeting into the water backwards and came back up gasping as you laughed hard at his expense.

“Are ya frickin’ kiddin’ me?! The hell is wrong with ya?!” he barked at you, treading water. His long hair was plastered to his face. “Oh, yer dead,” he growled at you.

“I’m dead? What are ya gonna do?” You slowly paced backwards on the dock, a wide, genuine smile crinkling your eyes, and the sight of that was enough to make any real annoyance Daryl had evaporate. He couldn’t resist that megawatt smile. “You made it so easy! You were just standing right there at the end!” you said back. “What, I was supposed to just not take that opportunity?”

Daryl let out a chesty growl and pointed a finger at you. “You and whiskey should not mix.” He pushed his wet hair out of his face and swam back to the edge of the dock. “Well…” he said expectantly, staring at you.

You laughed again and shrugged. “Well?”

“At least come help me get the hell out of here,” he rumbled.

You let out a loud laugh. “How stupid do you think I am? I know you just want me to come over there so you can pull me in or splash me or something! Besides, I can’t pull you out. Wrist? Ribs? Remember?”

Daryl muttered under his breath and pulled himself out on the dock, his wet clothes sticking to him, complete with sopping wet boots. He stared down at the water pouring off him onto the wooden deck.

You pressed your lips together in a pleased attempt to stifle more laughter.

“You’re dead,” he growled again, looking up at you. “I ain’t babysittin’ your ass no more. I dun care if ya do fall in and drown,” he barked, starting to stalk toward you to leave the dock.

“Oh, come on, Daryl. It’s pretty funny. I mean, if it were reversed—”

“My damn boots,” he interrupted, giving you another glare.

You stared down at his feet and grimaced. “Right… well… come on. I’ll walk you back to your house so you can change. It’s the least I can do,” you said, trying hard to stifle more laughter at the glare the archer was giving you.

“I should throw ya in right now,” he said. “Maybe it’d sober ya up,” he said, shaking the water from his arms.

“Hey—I probably shouldn’t be swimming! I’m a cripple, remember?”

“Uh huh. Convenient,” he muttered. He started down the sidewalk, leaving wet footprints. You jogged a little to catch up with him and although he could feel your eyes on him he was determined not to look at you, trying to pretend he was still mad. It didn’t last long and when he next looked up you saw that one corner of his mouth was quirked up in a half-smile. Your grin widened. “Ya are gonna pay for this eventually, ya know,” he said gruffly.

“Worth it.”

You walked with Daryl in a comfortable silence all the way back to the house he was sharing with many of his group members, although some had split up and moved in to the other house by now. You froze suddenly at the bottom of the stairs as Daryl climbed them.

“Woah,” you said. You pressed a hand to your head.

Daryl glanced back at you and rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp exhale. “Whiskey?”

“Yeah, it’s like it all just hit me at once.”

He let out a gruff laugh. “It ain’t hittin’ ya at once. Ya been slurrin’ for over an hour now.” He came back down the steps and gently grasped your elbow, his heart jumping as his fingers made contact with you. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some more water.”

You smiled at him a little abashedly as he led you inside. It was the first time you’d ever been in their house and you looked around, taking in Rick’s spare pair of boots by the front door and Judith’s high chair at the table.

“Here,” he said, shoving a full water glass into your hands. “I’mma get some dry clothes and rinse off this pond smell all over me. Thanks to you…” You laughed again and shrugged.

“You look good all wet though,” you said, the words surprising you even as they slipped out.

Daryl’s blue eyes narrowed and he ducked his head, mumbling a gruff “whatever” before disappearing downstairs to retrieve some clothes, completely baffled and unable to come up with any response to that. He hoped you hadn’t been able to see the warmth he certainly felt in his face. He came back quickly with a towel over his shoulder and some clothes under his arm and pointed at you vehemently. “Now just sit down and quit with the damn whiskey. Don’t go anywhere.”

You saluted him and affected a serious face, resulting in him rolling his eyes at you again. But you left the whiskey bottle on the counter and took your glass of water into the living room with you. As you sunk down on the couch, you heard the shower turn on. You unwound the light scarf from around your neck and tossed it down carelessly. Daryl’s crossbow was sitting on the coffee table and you picked up one of the spare bolts from where it was laying on the table and spun it absently between your fingers. You collapsed back on the couch so you were laying out flat and stared up at the shapes of the shadows on the ceiling. They shifted a little as your vision seemed to spin. You planted a foot on the floor to ground yourself.

You knew it was stupid to get drunk… but sometimes you just wanted to try to forget.

That’s where Daryl found you when he came back out, now in his change of dry clothes. “Y/N?”

“Over here,” you said, still spinning his crossbow bolt between your fingers. He looked over the back of the couch at you, leaning on his forearms.

You smiled up at him, just a small one, but it sent his heart fluttering. He was always amazed that that smile was just for him.

“Well, I think I smell a bit less like pond now,” he drawled.

You leaned up on your elbow a little, ignoring the twinge in your ribs. You dramatically sniffed in his direction and he gave you a look. “Less pond,” you said. “For sure.”

Leaning up closed half the distance to Daryl as he looked down at you and you felt suddenly like the air was charged. Probably just the alcohol, you thought to yourself, gulping at the sudden lump in your throat.

Daryl felt it too and he suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze any longer, running away from the feeling. It was magnetic. But he told himself there was no possible way you were feeling the same thing and he straightened back up and just like that the electricity, the heaviness in the air evaporated.

You glanced down at his crossbow bolt in your hands with a fluttering in your chest. “Probably shouldn’t leave these lying around with a baby in the house, ya know,” you said, waggling the bolt at him.

“She ain’t crawling much yet. But yeah… you’re probably right.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” you said. Daryl gave you a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. “Judith.”

Daryl smiled and looked down at his hands on the back of the couch. “Ya. It is.” You liked the way his expression softened at the thought of her.

You strained to sit up straighter, an arm wrapping around your ribs. Daryl watched the tight expression of pain take your face over and then pass and he felt another hot flash of rage about what had been done to you outside the walls. And he had so many questions he wanted to ask you, so many worries… but you were so closed about it…

You spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re lucky. You have so many people, good people, and—they all obviously care about you. A lot.” Your voice was soft and Daryl finally looked up again and met your eyes with his. He felt a rush of nerves.

“Ya. Don’t make any damn sense, really,” he drawled.

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

Daryl felt those annoying butterflies flit to life in his stomach again. God, you hardly had to say anything, do anything for that to happen. What the hell was wrong with him? “Ya got people, too,” he said. “That care about ya.”

You let out a somewhat wry laugh. “I’ve got Aaron and Eric. Aaaand… that’s about it,” you said. You discarded his bolt back on the table.

“Nah. Ya got more than that.”

Daryl’s response drew your eyes back to his in surprise and you swore that his gaze was flitting between your eyes and your lips. Your lips parted slightly of their own accord. You felt suddenly breathless and the space between the two of you was charged again.

You gulped at the tightness in your throat suddenly and looked away, running scared. “I’m just—I’m not good at letting people in,” you whispered, not meaning it to come out so softly.

“And ya think I am?” Daryl laughed gruffly. “People have a way of gettin’ in anyway. If they want to.”

You were struggling to come up with something to say to that when the front door suddenly opened. Daryl straightened up and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You suddenly remembered you weren’t the only two people in the world.

“Oh, good! Daryl, you’re—oh!” It was Carol. “I didn’t realize we had company!” Her voice had been much more relaxed, much lower when she first spoke, but her tone and face suddenly brightened when she realized you were there.

You climbed to your feet and gave her a tight smile. “I was just heading out actually. It’s late,” you said, shooting a glance over at Daryl. He rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck.

“Ya, alright. I’ll walk ya out,” he murmured. He could feel Carol watching the two of you all the way across the kitchen and up into the front hall.

You stopped in the entryway to turn and give him a small smile. “Thanks. For tonight,” you said quietly. He gave you a dumbfounded look.

“I didn’t do anything,” he murmured. “’Cept not kill ya after ya pushed me in the damn pond.”

You laughed at his confusion. “Yeah. You did.” You turned to leave but froze once again with your hand on the doorknob. “Oh—and you can tell Carol she can knock off the suburban sweetheart act with me, okay? I’m not buying it. I’ll see ya, Daryl. Goodnight.”

Daryl spun around to see Carol standing at the end of the hall, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the space you had just occupied. “Did ya hear—”

“Huh,” Carol interrupted. “Yeah. She’s the only person to figure that out so far.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded before looking back at the archer. “I like her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ya, she’s annoyingly observant. Rick tell ya she knew he was a cop immediately, too?”

“Well, sorry to interrupt your date,” she said with a small smile. “She didn’t have to leave just because I showed up.”

“Would ya quit?” he rasped gruffly. “Wasn’t a ‘date,’ alright? We’re just—” he shrugged and Carol raised her eyebrows at him knowingly.

“Wait—why is your hair all wet?” she asked, moving closer to Daryl.

He groaned and rolled his eyes again. “She fuckin’ pushed me into the damn pond,” he admitted in a low growl. Carol let out a loud guffaw.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely like her,” she said with a grin. “You should bring her around more often. Let everyone get to know her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes again and headed for the living room to collect his bow. “Quit tryin’a meddle, would ya?”

Carol laughed and tried to look affronted. “I haven’t done anything! God, you’re so sensitive,” she teased him. “What’s that?”

Daryl’s hand closed around your scarf, which you had discarded carelessly on the floor. “Y/N’s.”

“Little warm still for scarf weather isn’t it?” Carol asked, peering at it curiously.

“Ya. She was—she was wearin’ it because of the bruises on her neck. One of those assholes was—” he broke off as he remembered turning the corner and seeing the guy on top of you with his hands around your neck. He felt another hot flush of rage. “When we were outside the walls, one of ‘em was choking her. She’s got marks all around her neck. Probably didn’t want anyone else seein’ em.”

“God. I couldn’t see them in here. It’s too dark,” Carol muttered. “That’s horrible,” she said. Daryl nodded, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers.

“Mhm.” He gave one more nod to Carol. “G’night,” he said, heading immediately for his space in the basement, the scarf still dangling from his hand. He flopped down on his back on the bed, running the soft fabric between his fingers. His stomach was turning as he thought of you, that brilliant smile you gave up so rarely staying in his mind’s eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and chewed his bottom lip, trying to banish it. The hell were all these damn feelings? The archer finally let out a frustrated sigh and set your scarf down on his bedside table before putting out the flame of his lantern and rolling onto his side, chasing sleep.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #my gifs #daryl dixon series #alexandria #sacrifice #part 7 #daryl dixon fluff #daryl fluff

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ohmystars-marvel · 3 years

Text

So...you’re mine, huh? pt. 2

Pairing: Tony Stark x daughter!reader; Peter Parker x reader (eventually)

Word count: 1,798

Summary: When your mother passes, she wrote in her will if she passed when you were still a minor, guardianship would get passed to Tony Stark. You have no idea what their relationship was, despite both of them living their lives in the spotlight. However, for someone who lived in the spotlight, your mother held plenty of secrets.

A/N: So um.....surprise!!! It’s finally here!!!!! I’m sososoSO sorry ;_; life’s been kind of rough and since I’ve been in uni it’s been hard to actually get time for myself, but I’ve finally actually gotten the time to sit down and write it out. I’m sorry it’s not that long, but I promise I won’t ghost like that again, but without further ado, here’s chapter 2!

(Also credits to owner of gif)

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The funeral felt like everything was moving in slow motion. A couple of people came up to talk about (Y/M/N), and Tony noticed how whenever the people at the podium would give you a pitying glance in between their eulogies. The older man that was seating with you earlier isn’t sitting up front with you. He sits in a row behind you, leaving you all by yourself in the front. Tony also noticed how stoic you appeared to look. You sat with your head tall, your hair styled out of your face, tightly and professionally, evenly squared shoulders; the perfect sitting posture.

A couple of people near him whispered about you. Some admired how composed you looked, just like your mother. Some whispered that you looked like you didn’t care that your mother passed, you just cared for the money that you were inheriting. Selfish brat someone whispered around Tony.

She inherits all that her mother worked for without having to put any work ethic in

She isn’t going up to talk at her mother’s funeral?

She does take after her mother after all..couldn’t give a care less that her parents died, why wouldn’t her daughter act the same way now?

In Tony’s opinion, you didn’t look composed and neither looked like you didn’t care. You looked like a kid who was trying to hold it together in a room full of adults in order to be perceived as an adult. A child trying to act far more mature than their actual age.

When the funeral was over, people started getting up to either talk to you, or to talk to others around them. Disgusted with how people talked about you while a funeral was taking place, Tony walked over to talk to you instead. Besides, he felt that he needed to get to the bottom of how the hell (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) had a kid he knew nothing about. He also wanted to figure out whose kid you were. No kid should have to get through their only parent’s funeral alone.

When Tony walked over, you were finishing a conversation with one of the guests. Tony stuck his hand, reaching for a handshake. You accepted his handshake, and surprised him when it was a solid, firm one. Guess (Y/M/N) did teach you well.

“Ms. (Y/L/N). We haven’t had the chance to meet, and I wish it was under better circumstances. I’ve known your mother since we were children, and I know what a devastating loss it is now that she’s gone. I know you’re hearing this phrase more often than you’d like to right now, but please know when I say that if you ever need help, please do come to me. Stark Tower or Avengers Headquarters, you'll be accepted anywhere there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. That’s very kind of you. I as well wish that we could’ve met under better circumstances. You’re kind of my hero, honestly. The advancements you’ve made with arc reactor technology is amazing.” (Y/N) admitted shyly, while sporting a small smile.

Tony analyzed your face. Jesus, it was like Tony was thrown back in time. I looked so much like your mother when she was much younger. That’s where the similarities stopped though. Your shy demeanor and politeness were honest reactions, no acting involved. Your eyes were also different from (Y/M/N)’s. (Y/M/N) looked at everyone like a certain degree of coldness, keeping people at a distance. Yours were gentle, inviting. There’s no way this kid can be hers. She’s nothing like her.

“Mr. Stark,” you interrupted his thoughts, “I’m only telling a select group of people who actually knew my mother well. We told the public the coroners haven’t signed off yet. That, however, isn’t true, and we'll be doing a more private service. I want to give enough time for the press to leave, and for people who my mother claimed that ‘actually cared for her money, not her well-being to leave’. I’d like it if you were to join us.”

“Please, call me Tony. I’ll be there, Ms. (Y/L/N), don’t worry. Gives us all the chance to actually give your mother the goodbye that she deserves, don’t you think?”

You blinked at him, an expression of shock that briefly broke your composure. “Of course, Mr-” she caught herself when Tony smirked at her, and she smiled sheepishly. “sorry. Tony. It’s going to take me awhile. There’ll be an announcement that’ll be given for the burial service so please, stick around and chat. Please excuse me, I’ve got to greet the others who came as well. It was a real pleasure to meet you, Tony.” She bid him a small smile and left him standing by himself.

When you left him, Tony went to grab himself a cup of water. While sipping on his water, the older man that sat next to you before the funeral approached Tony.

“Mr. Stark, it’s a great pleasure to meet you. Though, I wish I would be meeting you right now at something like the Stark Expo.”

Tony didn’t respond, but took another sip to avoid the small talk that the man was trying to achieve. The man cleared his throat.

“Right then. Mr. Stark, I’m Philip Ashcraft, (Y/M/N)’s lawyer. Could we step out in the hallway and talk? (Y/M/N) left something important to you, and the both of us would very much rather have this conversation where someone can’t overhear.”

“You find a hallway during a private funeral? Let me guess, you wanna suggest the coat closet next? I mean I guess we can meet in there, but you have to promise no playing seven minutes of heaven-”

“Mr. Stark, please. It’s of the utmost importance.”

“Why don’t you take this up with my secretary, Mr. Ashcraft? They can schedule a meeting with you within this next week. After all, I am not in the mood to discuss business right now, considering that we’re currently at a funeral.” Tony took a sip of his water, raising an eyebrow at the lawyer.

“This isn’t something that can be pushed away! Mr. Stark, this is in regards to what (Y/M/N) has left for you, and her will states for you to receive her last wishes as soon as the funeral’s over.”

Tony sighed. “In case you haven’t noticed, (Y/M/N)’s funeral is not over. If whatever (Y/M/N) left for me is that important, then you can wait until after the burial service is over. That’s when the funeral is over and that’s when you will have my attention. Until then, kindly fuck off.”

The lawyer swallowed, clearly trying to keep his temper, and walked away, begrudgingly. Victorious, Tony walked away from the water pitcher and found himself an empty corner that no one else would bother him. Besides, he had some homework to start before (Y/M/N)’s burial service started. If he didn’t know anything about (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s existence, then how much did the rest of the world know about you?

Tony pulled his phone out of pocket, and pulled it close to his face, pretending like he was taking a phone call. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. I need you to do something for me really quick.”

“What do you need, boss?”

“Look for anything in regards to (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I don’t care if it’s newspaper clippings, science fair photos, or even a mugshot. Anything that just proves her existence.”

“Looking online now. I’ll check back in with you when my analysis online is complete.”

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Tony mumbled to himself. He put his phone back in his pocket and decided to wait out the thirty minutes by himself.

******

Tony watched as time passed and those that were clearly not invited or were exhausted from trying to butt into (Y/N)’s business left the room. Tony saw that besides himself, you, that asswipe of a lawyer, and approximately two other people were invited to the service. He noticed that the one who told him who you were wasn’t included in the group. For some reason, that didn’t sit well with him.

The burial service went by just as smoothly as the service given inside. Tony noticed that when you placed flowers on the headstone, your eyes were glassy. So this was the group you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, not terribly vulnerable, but enough to know that this clearly affected you. When the service finished, the two others were conversing with you, one holding one of your hands as you wiped your eyes delicately, clearly still trying not to cry. That’s the time that the lawyer decided to act. He put a hand on your shoulder, and whispered something in your ear. You nodded and went back to listening. The lawyer made his way to Tony, and opened his mouth to speak, but Tony beat him to the punch.

“Alright, bug-a-boo, now we can talk.”

“Do you mind if we talk inside, Mr. Stark? I am required to have your signature.”

Tony sighed and made an after you gesture with his hand. “Christ, what is it that (Y/M/N) left behind that is so goddamn important that you have to dump on me at a funeral and require me to sign?”

Ashcraft clenched his jaw, and opened the door to the funeral home and stalked into the room where the public service was held, Tony close behind. Ashcraft unlocked his briefcase, which held an envelope that was thick with papers. He pushed it into Tony’s hand with plenty of force.

“The thing that (Y/M/N) is ‘dumping’ on you is her child. She left guardianship claims on (Y/N) to you, Mr. Stark” Ashcraft said bitterly.

Tony hurried to open the envelope. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way you actually left your kid to him. It’s gotta be some kind of a joke. At least, that was what Tony tried to convince himself before he found a handwritten will that was in your handwriting. The last sentence is what made his heart drop in his chest.

In the case of my passing before (Y/N) can legally care for herself, I leave guardianship rights to Anthony Edward Stark.

Tony’s phone buzzed in his pocket. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s search had been completed, and only included one document. Tapping on the document, it opened into a scan of your birth certificate. What drew Tony’s attention was the name that was entered for the father’s name. Tony softly scoffed to himself.

“So...you’re mine huh?”

#avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #tony stark #tony stark x daughter #tony stark x reader #Tony Stark fanfiction #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker

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theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Solitude Madness

BSD Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader

Setting: Confinement can make people crazy. Before all of this happened you would never dreamt about submitting to an evil man like Fyodor. The demon does have his way of breaking down even the toughest minds.

Notes: This may or not relate to my quarantine and seasonal depression and my need for a cuddle session with my favourite rat man. There will be no torture in this since I am not familiar with writing graphic violence.

Word count: 1.1k(Sequal to a fic, but my muse kind of ditched)

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, self-indulgent garbage, implied abduction,mindbreak, mentions of surgery, general Yandere content

When was the last time you had seen the sun again? How long have you been trapped in this dark underground facility?

You are well aware who can answer those questions, but you refused to ask him anything. After all, Fyodor is the one responsible for your present condition.

You hate this, you never wanted this, being in this little cell against your will, just because you are the object of his affections? Has he ever heard of what love is?

True love is seeing your loved ones happy, whether they are with you or not. If they are happy, you should be content and guard their happiness. You were happily enjoying a normal life in the sun, but now this damned Russian terrorist had dragged you into eternal darkness, all in the name of love? He calls this selfish obsession, this bone-chilling possessiveness love? Just what made him this way? “You are absolutely insane.” “Glad we are in agreeance, dear.” Those amused chuckles made you look away trembling, leaving another scar on your already scarred mind.

You are a nuisance, a distraction to Fyodor’s grand plans. He hates this feeling of you being out on your own, where anyone could just whisk you away as you are such a helpless little creature. Surveillance feed from hidden cameras failed to satiate his desires before long, Fyodor has to do something to make sure no one(else) hurts you.

You have been screaming and crying less whenever he comes into sight, Fyodor could consider that to be good progress. He fully understands that nobody likes to wake up in a strange place one morning and that loss of freedom. Why else do you think you have been getting away with punishments for yelling at him? The last person who dared to do so is no longer in the land of the living. But you are different, Fyodor is surprised to find himself willing to be patient with you, to tolerate your inconvenient behaviours. Which makes him wonder when this state of transition would pass, what would you be like when you finally accepted your place here. How long? A few months? A year?

Call him as many names, scream whatever sharp words as you like. One day you would understand you belong to your god, your master Fyodor. There is no need to force you to do anything, you will do them by your own “free will” soon enough.

You are particularly quiet today, no noises whatsoever when he brought you the meal. Just curling up against the wall, hugging your knees with a grim expression.

Well, just as he expected. Long periods of isolation can do amazing things to one’s mind, he knows that all too well. This nearly effortless tactic is surprisingly effective.

That day begins like any other. He was about to put the food tray down and return to his work as usual, but this time he felt a little pull on his cape.

“Don’t leave...please-” Now, now. What do we have here? Are you clinging on to the edge of his cloak? Do you want him to give you some much-needed attention? Has his little mouse finally learned how to behave?

Fyodor might not have hurt you or starved you just yet, but countless days would go by silently, without anything to keep you occupied within these empty walls. No one to talk to, nothing to keep your mind off these horrific conditions, all you can do is sob in that corner like a miserable animal. What date is even today again? It was bearable at first, but as the days went by you had become quite desperate for attention, to the point you do not care who you got it from. The endless boredom scares you so, this horror of being alone scares you also. You had imagined all sorts of things following your abduction, such as torture, but you failed to account for what to do with this utter silence and isolation. It may not hurt physically, yet it feels much worse.

And that is exactly what Fyodor wants you to perceive. Everything is going just according to his little plan.

Why would he apply violence when he can do this? That is for brutes, never for someone intelligent like him. He would hate to cause you any physical harm, as he does not have a doctor on-site for treatment. When it comes to your mind, however, that is a completely different story. Your mind will shatter by itself, so Fyodor can build up an ideal darling with those broken pieces, and he rather not perform that troublesome procedure again.

That scared expression you made when he pretends to not hear you is just so endearing. Feeling your grip tightens, almost tearing his cape off his shoulders, Fyodor finally stopped. Letting out a sigh, he turns back to face your trembling form.

“Do you need something, my little mouse?” That smile, that vile smile dipped in venom, the only thing that could peak your interest in these empty walls.

You do, you need some company, any company will do.

“I…” Your remaining conscience screams in the corner of your brain, do not submit, he is the one to blame! But it was ignored, unfortunately. What is dignity again?

Your captor was shocked when you straight up jumped up and wrapped your arms around his slender shoulders. He did not expect you to be this...passionate.

“Fyodor, please. Do not leave me here alone any longer. I will do as you say, I’ll do anything!” Gods, you really are doing this. Begging for this rat’s mercy like a pathetic dog. But you had passed the point of having dignity. His chest feels surprisingly warm, compared to his icy fingertips, and you buried your face on those fluffy decorative fur trimmings. Soft, you should really have done this sooner. You belong to him now, so why not exercise the rights you have instead of being a brat?

This is perfect, the result is almost the same as what he expected. Your affectionate nature has only been a pleasant surprise, and Fyodor is surprised about your resilience. Now all he needs to do is just sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labour.

#bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoyevsky #yandere bsd #yandere fyodor dostoyevsky #yandere fyodor #yandere x you #quaratine depression product

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wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse · 3 years

Text

Clear Waters (Fili x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2069

A/N ok so I do not like this one as much and also it is veryyy long for me so that's also why. For this one, it is kind of open-ended and I still have not decided who it's for lol, It could be Thorin, Fili, Kili, or Bilbo. Who knows, even Dwalin or bombur. I lovvve being indecisive. so have a surprise and let me know if you have any requests. Enjoy xx

The water swept over me, my muscles taut with strain, but I felt freer than ever. The water was icy, but it soothed me. Muscle memory taught me to savor the moment from when I jumped in the water to when I clambered back on the boat. A few stray waves hit me, rolling me over a bit. I let them roll me, facing upwards towards the sky. I sighed. Bard would be back soon, and he would want me to help him with whatever he had today. Of course, I was more than willing to help. After all, he is the one that brings me out in these waters and lets me have time to myself. I began to swim to our meeting place, one that we both had memorized. I let my body relax, the tendrils of kelp trying to keep me from going back. I willed myself forward, but to what? More scoffing at my ideas, more remarking on how I am not married yet. But I had to.

The waves began to swell, and I smiled. Bard was here to pick me up. Of course, he did the old trick of pretending to almost run me over. I laughed at his antics, he rarely was ever humorous anymore. I hoisted myself up the side of the boat, sopping wet when I realized that he had company. I looked at Bard, who shrugged.

"Lass, you could have drowned! What are ye doing?" A crowd of what looked like 14 dwarves stood before me. They were all staring incredulously, obviously, they did not expect someone to be swimming in these waters.

"I'm just going for my daily swim of course. Did you actually think Bard was going to hit me? You have so little faith in your ferry it seems." I wrung out my hair over the side of the boat. My explanation did not seem to suit them, but they dropped the subject fairly quickly.

"Now might I ask, who are you?" a voice said quietly. I looked up and faced a dwarf, no, a hobbit who looked very out of place.

"I am y/n, from Laketown. And who are you? It looks like you are a halfling unless my eyes deceive me," I responded.

He fidgeted a bit. He was obviously very uncomfortable. "Yes yes, that's me. Bilbo Baggins." He scooted back to the other side of the boat. An odd character he seems, out of place. Why was he here? I turned back around, tired from all the swimming. I met the eyes of some of the other dwarves. Two of them had a very mischievous look in them. Some were more somber. But one of them caught my eyes. He looked like he was the leader of all of them, even if he did not say anything. He had that air of authority to his figure. I caught his eye, trying to figure out what these dwarves were doing here, but his face did not give anything I way. I leaned my head back against the boat. Breath in, breath out. Slowly my eyes closed, letting slumber take over my willing body.

--------time change hehe--------

Bard shook me awake, motioning to the barrels that were now filled with fish. How long was I asleep for? I shook the last tendrils of sleep off me, and clumsily grabbed one of the barrels. I poured it onto the deck where Bard was pouring one, and a redheaded dwarf rolled out unceremoniously. I gave Bard a questioning look, but he motioned to stay quiet. Well, a time for everything I suppose.

Once we had poured out all the fish, dwarves included, I was free to go. But, after all, I am a nosy person, so I decided to go with Bard. For some reason we had to sneak the dwarves into his house, were they fugitives of some sort? Well, no matter who they were, they were picky, with everything. The weapons Bard offered were "not good enough". Everything seemed to pass by in a blurry haze. Clearly, I needed more sleep. I noticed one of the dwarves seemed to be in pain, clearly trying to hide it. I ventured a bit closer, but Bard called for me to help him with something.

The night approached quickly, and these dwarves were very somber. I walked up to one of them, the oldest one. "Might I ask what is going on here? Everything that I have ever heard about dwarves is that they are jovial, and I have rarely ever seen anyone this quiet," I spoke quietly, not wanting to draw attention to my confusion.

"Well lass, we are not here to stay, and we are a bit behind schedule. Everyone is just a bit tense, as this is very important for everyone," the dwarf said vaguely. "You're y/n aren't ye."

"Yes, that's me. And who are you?"

"Balin son of Fundin. It is a pleasure to meet you. Now I see you are a bit fiercer than the rest and I would like to know if there is an armory here where we can get weapons from. If you do not wish to help, that is fine. However, I can tell you want adventure. Make up your mind soon." He walked away to get some food, leaving me with my mouth wide open. How could he know? How does he know that I hate this place, that I want to leave on journeys? I would drill him about that later, but for now, I must help them.

I murmured some of the plans to Bilbo, who told Balin. Everyone else came to know, and the minute Bard would leave we would be off. Bard would not be happy with me, but I don't care. It's about high time I had something to do other than sitting around or swimming. I needed an escape. As we were all eating, talking amongst ourselves, I noticed Bard hurriedly whisper something to his son and slip out the door, unnoticed by everyone.

I yawned, "Well I think I will be heading off to bed. It was lovely meeting you all." I met all of their eyes, lingering on some for longer. I still noticed the younger dwarf hiding his pain, but I could do nothing at the moment. I left the house and down the stairs, waiting. After about five minutes I heard grumbling from the rest of the dwarves. I motioned for them to stay quiet and quickly led the way. I showed them the window that they could enter once we reached the armory.

"This is the only way in without alerting guards. Be quiet. If anyone of you makes a noise, it is over. I will leave once you get in unless there is anything else I can help you with," I said hopefully. I still wished to leave this dreadful town.

Thorin, the dwarf in charge, muttered some orders to the rest of them and then turned wearily back to me. "We are in your debt. Thank you for helping us," he said grudgingly, in a deep gravelly voice.

I nodded my head and left them, turning around a corner. I stopped though, for I heard them saying something.

"She would have been of use to us. Clearly, she knows a way out of here and we don't." I heard one of the dwarves arguing. I could not tell which one.

"No, she would only hinder us. She is soft, she has never left this village, she would only be a burden." I heard Thorin say gruffly. He wasn't necessarily wrong, but they underestimated me. I could handle a sword, and I would not hesitate in killing orcs. But if I showed myself, they would all not trust me. So I stayed hidden.

"Uncle you don't know that. Besides, think of what use a human might be. They perceive things in different ways sometimes. There's something about her. She would help us, I know she would." The other dwarf spoke.

Hmmm, which ones were his nephews. I thought the injured one was his only relative, but clearly, I was wrong. The injured one's voice was not as resonant as the one that was speaking. I accidentally shuffled a bit, and their voices grew quieter. I could no longer hear them, but it was nice to know that someone wanted me there. All of a sudden there was a huge crashing of metal and a couple of thumps. I fled the scene, knowing that I could not get caught with them. Everyone already was wary of me, I would hate to make things worse for myself.

I heard the shouting of guards as I ran, far enough away that I knew I wouldn't be caught. The town center, that was where they would be brought. I took some shortcuts, so hopefully, I could see them alright. Everything passed by in my anxiety-induced haze. If they mentioned me at all, I was well, screwed. I vaguely heard Thorin shout something, and everyone cheering, but I was mostly looking at the dwarves' faces and made sure they were alright.

Balin looked a bit concerned, and the youngest one was still trying to hide his pain, but everyone else looked joyous. I smiled looking at them. It was the first time I had seen them in a good mood. One of them looked right at me, he was blonde, and he looked younger. I think he might have been the one talking about me. I waved and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Everyone was busy celebrating that they were going to the lonely mountain, but I mostly wanted to check on the hurt dwarf. Kili I think his name is. But before I could reach them, the crowd pressed in. Drinks were brought out and I could barely move without bumping into someone. It got harder to breathe. I began taking quicker breathes, trying to push my way out of the pandemonium. My ears were ringing because it was so loud. Finally, I managed to get out, and I sat against one of the stalls, leaning my head back against it. Footsteps approached me, slowly, and I turned my head.

"They are going to bring doom to us all," Bard said hoarsely. "But all anyone wants is gold. Greedy things we are. It makes me almost sick to watch this. Do you want me to walk you back to your house or are you fine on your own?"

"I think I'll be alright for tonight Bard, thank you though. Goodnight." I replied back.

I closed my eyes for a second, listening to the laughter, beer slopping down the sides of mugs, something I have not heard in a long time. It is odd to miss things like this, especially when you don't realize you miss them. Some more footsteps approached me, but quicker, with a skip to them.

"My Lady," the dwarf said, bowing his head.

I smiled in return. "I am certainly no lady. And remind me, which one are you?"

"Ah, but you look like a lady to me. I am Fili, nephew of Thorin. Why are you sitting down when there are festivities to be had?"

"A gentleman does not ask a lady such questions." I retorted.

He gave a sly chuckle, "I thought you aren't a lady."

I laughed, not expecting this from him. But it was funny nonetheless. "Well, you have me there. Now tell me everything about this quest. I am keen to be on one myself and I would love to hear it all."

So Fili told me everything. Where he was born, why he wanted to go, everything. Obviously, some of the ale he drank was at work, seeming to make him more flamboyant than he usually might be. But it was amusing and laughter ensued.

When the music died down and people began to head home, Fili wrapped up his exaggerated tale.

"It was lovely to meet you Fili. I wish you the best of luck on your quest." I said softly. "Please try not to wake the dragon."

He chucked. "It was lovely to meet you as well y/n."

I waved him farewell and walked back to my house. It was always good to meet new people, especially these dwarves. They seemed like they could be so happy if they tried. Well, it is time to settle in for the night.

#lotr #lotr fanfic #fanfic #thorin x y/n #thorin x reader #fili #fili x you #fili x reader #kili #kili x you #kili x reader #thorin #bilbo

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kl4us4 · 4 years

Text

STRANGE (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Inspiration: Strange - LP

Summary: Spencer worries about his place in the team sometimes. He doesn’t have a love life, he doesn’t get things that everyone else gets, he’s left out of jokes sometimes. His friends love him dearly, especially you. But sometimes, he feels... strange. Too strange to fit in.

masterlist

tags: early seasons Spencer, little tiny baby Spence

Spencer slumps in Garcia’s seat, sitting alone in the room as he waits for her to come back from giving Morgan some printed information on the newest victim. He taps his foot against the ground, a finger placed in his mouth as he chews on his nail.

“What’s got you worried?”

Turning back, Spencer stands when he sees you at the doorway. “Oh, I’m waiting for Garcia.” He answers, only meeting your eyes for a second. “You?” That’s the first way you know something’s wrong. Both of you are aware - if not, fond - of the lingering eye contact, the soft looks, the gentle smiles shared between the two of you. It’s what first clued Spencer on that you may have a crush on him. And you did. And Spencer didn’t know what to do because he liked you too, he just assumed it’d die down because of your status as co-workers.

“Right. I’m just dropping these off before heading home,” You nod back, placing a few files down on Garcia’s desk as you speak, “Maybe you can read up about lying since you’re really bad at it.”

Spencer cringes slightly, making you chuckle quietly. “Am I that bad?” He winces slightly, hands in his pocket as he stands in the middle of the room.

You nod at him, seeing his shoulders fall slightly. Something’s bothering him, it’s beyond obvious; at least to you, being so close to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” You wonder.

Spencer flicks his eyes up to meet yours before he gives an uncertain shrug, “I don’t know, I think Garcia might be a better contender.”

“Oh, yeah,” you nod back, backing off immediately and giving him a smile, “I hope you’re okay. Bye, Spence.”

Spence. The nickname eases tension from his shoulders a little. You’ve always been kind to him, no matter what. The whole team have, but you never make jokes at his expense or tell him to move on when he’s rambling. You always listen to him. You never knock him for his interests no matter how odd they are. “Wait.”

Turning, you raise your eyebrows at him, letting out a small, “Yeah?”

Spencer pauses, lips parted as he finds the words, “Do you ever feel...” His eyes search the room, almost as if the answer will be hidden somewhere, “Out of place? Like - like you don’t belong?”

The question saddens you a little but then you think about it and you let out a small laugh, “All the time.” You smile at him, heading over to Garcia’s desk. You clear a spot, leaning against it carefully.

“Really?” Spencer tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What, is that hard to believe?” You wonder, smile still gracing your lips.

Spencer just gives a small shrug, looking up at you with curious, light eyes, “Everything just... seems to come so easy for you.”

You let out a hum, “What do you mean by everything?”

“Work, friends...” He trails off, “Significant others... relationships.”

“You feel like you don’t do well in those areas?”

Now it’s Spencer letting out a laugh, “No!”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think you’re not good at making friends?”

“I don’t know... I just - I guess I bore people sometimes. I once had a girl tell me to stop talking, just straight up stop talking.” He answers, looking down and cringing as he relived the memory, “I’m... too much for people - even Morgan gets tired of me.”

You don’t mean to look so sad and upset but you can’t help but feel his pain. Spence really seems upset by this. Does he really think everyone’s bored of him? Everyone thinks he’s wonderful, if only he heard how they speak of him when he isn’t around. You wish you could tell him all the great things he can’t see, but you can’t give yourself away so directly.

“The people who matter most won’t tell you to shut up.” You remark. Spencer can’t help but meet your eyes at the serious tone. “You perceive me in a weird way, I think.” You admit to him, seeing confusion cross his face, “When I first joined, everyone hated disliked me. I didn’t think I would last a month here.”

“What?” Spencer frowns, “No way, Rossi loved you!”

“Rossi knew my mother,” you remind him, “But Emily and JJ disliked me so much that they didn’t bother getting to know me. Garcia was the only person who tried, everyone else was too... busy.”

“I had no idea.”

You shrug, letting out a huff of laughter, “I think I give off a bad impression.”

Spencer pouts, shaking his head as he thinks back to meeting you for the first time, “I liked you when I met you.”

You try not to let your cheeks turn red, “You’re the outlier. Even my roommates hated me when they first met me, then they got to know me and everything was fine. But trust me,” you shake your head, “It did not come easy for me.”

Spence lets out a small sigh, eyes drifting away from you, “Yeah. I guess not.” You don’t push, though you can sense something unsaid lingering on his lips, “We’re different.”

“How?”

Spencer shrugs, “You’re not like me. I’m - I’m kind of a nerd. I never had many friends. I never had roommates in college. I was unpopular, girls never liked me - they still don’t.” You try not to roll your eyes. “You fit in places easier than I do.”

“Who’s telling you that you need to fit in?” You pose the question. The answer is no one. No ones pushing him to be this ideal person, someone who has many friends, fits in everywhere, is socially accepted, doesn’t rant about Star Wars and science.

“Everyone,” he admits, “You’re the only person who doesn’t get tired of me or put off by how my brain works. I think... I’m too... I don’t know, strange. For most people at least.”

“Okay, and how do you fix being strange?”

This catches him off guard. His eyes snap to yours. “What?”

“You say you’re strange, so what do you change about yourself to stop being strange?” You wonder, smile now gone as you wait for his response, “Stop reading? Pretend to be bad at your job? Why? To be, what, normal?” You laugh at the idea, shaking your head at him, “Spence, who would you be if you were ‘normal’?”

“I don’t know.” He responds quietly.

“Would you be happier?”

Spencer looks up, meeting your eyes. He wonders if he were just a random person who met you at a cafe or at a bar if you two would be together. That would make him happier. “Maybe.” He admits.

“See? Bad liar.” You point out, shooting him a smile but he just forces one and looks at the ground. “Spence, I’m not saying this to try and make you feel like... what you’re feeling isn’t valid, okay? I just-” You look down at him, your eyes brushing over his face as you look at him, “If you say yourself the way that I see you.” You just shake your head, not finishing the sentence. You look down instead, stepping away from Garcia’s desk to stand in front of him. “There’s nothing wrong with who you are. I know it seems like people get tired of you, or don’t have time for you but - it’s just the pace of the job.” When Spencer doesn’t meet your eyes, you lean forward a little, “Hey, listen to me.” He looks up, eyes becoming a little red but you don’t point it out or gaze for too long, “If you knew how much they loved and admired you, you wouldn’t be thinking this. So... I’m sorry that you don’t know how much everyone cares for you - for you, the way you are. Nothing about you needs to be changed or fixed. And don’t - don’t compare yourself to me, I used to keep all my pencil shavings in a Tupperware container when I was a kid. I had no friends.” Spencer lets out a burst of laughter - which was your goal! And he gives you a small judgmental look before you both laugh together. “We are all strange,” you admit to him, a gentle smile on your face, “And that’s never going to change. It’s nothing something that needs fixing. Don’t be afraid of that, don’t change that - especially not because of some rude girl or one of Morgan’s dumb ‘jokes’.” You place a gentle hand on his chest, above his heart, “You are who you are, and who you are is -” you cut yourself off, not getting too ahead of yourself, “Remarkable.”

Pulling your hand away, Spencer meets it with his own. His hand is gently grasping yours, keeping it hovering over his chest. You look up at him, hoping to meet his eyes but he just looks down at your hand, admiring the few rings you wear. “Remarkable?” He whispers back, only flicking his eyes to meet yours when you don’t answer.

How can you answer? Having him close makes it hard to control your breathing but now, he’s holding your hand, and looking at you like that, and you can barely breathe. You’re not sure your heart is beating correctly. Someone page Doctor Shepherd. All you can do is give Spencer a small nod, not sure what else to say to him other than, “Yes.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Spencer’s lips and his thumb brushes the back of your hand before he lets it go. But you don’t leave yet, you slowly wrap your arms under his and around his upper waist. The two of you embrace one another, silently, passionately. And you can hear his heart beating when your head comes to rest on his chest. Spencer closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you tighter. The feeling of having him so close, the front of his body just shy of being pressed against yours, the way he can smell your hair when he breathes in - it brings a light peace to his heart.

“Thank you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair, not ready to step back or leave your closeness quite yet.

You’re the first to pull away, feeling your throat become dry. But you give him a smile, hoping your bashfulness isn’t too obvious, “Let me know whenever you need reminding.”

“Yeah,” he whispers back, and you have to admit his voice is so soothing when it’s low and raspy like this, “I will.” Spencer’s brown eyes linger on you and he doesn’t try to overthink when he leans in, slowly, cautiously, pressing his lips to your cheek. The kiss is soft but not brief. His lips linger on your cheek for a moment before he steps back, opening his eyes to catch the bashful smile on your lips. It’s quiet for a moment and you feel like you’re about to pass out from it. Thankfully, Spencer speaks up, “You should get some sleep. Today was long.”

“Yeah,” you nod in agreement, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He smiles as you head for the door, “See you tomorrow.”

As you walked from the BAU office, you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot all the way to your car. And when you sat in the driver's seat and locked the doors, you couldn’t help but press a hand to your burning cheek.

#spencer reid x profiler!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid oneshots #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader imagine #spencer reid x reader imagines #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x reader oneshot #criminal minds fic

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smegdwarf · 3 years

Text

But Who Could Love Me? - Red Dwarf Fic (Rimmer X Reader)|Chapter 1 (1/2)

A/N: Did you really think I hold back? :P

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: Pretty much giving Rimmer the love he deserves 😌

Chapter 1

Your POV

Why was this happening? What was going on and how in the entire universe did you end up here? Scrambling to your feet and fumbling along the corridors, almost as if you had drunk several crates of beer on an empty stomach, you tried to figure out where you was and whether or not you was alone. After all there was only so much time before this was bound to happen again.

“Alright?” A voice boomed as a picture appeared on a screen near you.

“Christ!” You jumped back, almost falling to your feet again.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare ya” The voice apologized “I’m Holly!”

“Where am I?” You stuttered, feeling the flickering approaching.

“JMC Mining ship Red Dwarf” Holly confirmed your suspicions.

“Is there anyone on this ship?” You asked, the flickering become more constant and harder to fight against.

“They’re in...” Before Holly could finish everything went black.

What felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds in reality you reappeared from your light bee with an almighty thud as you hit the metal wall of the ship.

“Did you guys hear that?” One voice exclaimed

“Probably another part of the ship falling apart ignore it” Another completely fed up voice grumbled as the door you had landed near opened.

“Sirs you might want to come and take a look” That was definitely a mechanoid.

“What is it Krytes?” A scouse voice asked.

“Ma’am are you ok?” The mechanoid asked as I finally opened my eyes.

“Oh great another human and it’s a female” The grumpy voice from earlier groaned.

“Alright Rimmer, keep your ‘h’ on” The scouser replied.

“Shut up Lister!” Rimmer growled.

“Mr Rimmer sir...” The mechanoid stuttered.

“What is it Kryten?” Rimmer rolled his eyes.

“I’m not human” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes, the flickering feeling returning a little “Do you a medical bay on board?”

“Of course ma’am” Kryten looked over you concerned as you tried to stand up.

“I need to get there ASAP” You grumbled as you rubbed your eyes once more knocking your hair from your face and revealing what you truly were.

“You’re a hologram?” Rimmer stood stunned as you began to flicker in and out again.

“I need to go now!” You exclaimed as Lister and the remaining unnamed crew mate helped you to the medi-bay.

Hooked up to the red dwarf holo system, Kryten set up a scan to find out what was causing you to flicker out.

“You’re a hologram?” Rimmer repeated himself.

“Am I? I wondered why there was a big ‘h’ on my head?” You teased but it went straight over him.

“It appears your light bee has a crack ma’am, which is causing you to flicker in and out and glitch” Kryten eyed over the scan results as he explained the issue.

“Is it fixable?” You asked.

“Sure is ma’am” Kryten gave you a reassuring smile.

“And please call me Y/N” You smiled back.

“Hang on can’t the ship only maintain one hologram?” The unnamed crew mate pointed out.

“Shut it Cat!” Lister shushed him.

“A couple updates and a few adjustments and the ships system should maintain several holograms” You smiled “How long will it take to fix the crack?”

It was then that you noticed Rimmer had left the medi-bay, clearly not pleased about sharing the ship with another hologram. It didn’t take Kryten long to fix the crack and before long you were helping him update the hologram program to maintain both you and Rimmer.

“Well if you would excuse me ma’am I’ve got a load of Mr Listers laundry to catch up on” Kryten nodded in your direction “You’ll find the crew down the corridor on the left”

“Thanks Kryten” You smiled as you parted ways with Kryten to find the others “Hi, hope I’m not disturbing anything?”

Upon seeing you, Rimmer jumped up from his seat and took himself and the book he was reading to his bunk without a word.

“Of course not, sit down and help yourself to a beer” Lister grinned “Did Kryten fix you up?”

“He did and the hologram program has been updated to maintain both me and Rimmer” You replied earning a not so subtle scoff from the hologram throwing a strop.

“Ignore the smeghead over there” Lister rolled his eyes towards Rimmer.

Rimmer was a mystery, he avoided you at all costs for the 3 weeks you had been stuck on Red Dwarf. Even though in those 3 weeks you had become good friends with the rest of the crew. It was all about to turn upside down as Kryten had bad news to deliver.

“Are you coming?” You spoke towards Rimmer but you dared to look at him.

“Y/N, Rimmer we need to get to starbug NOW!” Lister burst in, Krytens bad news had to wait.

While Lister run ahead it left you and Rimmer walking to spacebug alone in complete silence. Lister had filled you in on Rimmer, on why he is the way he is and why he seemed to hate you with every inch of his hologramatic being. He didn’t trust anyone and perceived everyone as a threat due to his crappy upbringing and constantly being shot down. It was clear the man had issues but it would be wrong of you to treat him differently because of them and it didn’t help that the rest of his crew liked to play on his insecurities. If anything you just wanted to be acquaintances if friends wasn’t possible.

After all piling into Starbugs cockpit Kryten filled everyone in, an abandoned ship was slowly flying by Red Dwarf and it was up to this crew to check it over for remaining crew or supplies that could be useful on ship.

“Rimmer are you still sulking?” Lister decided to spark a conversation, apparently at the expense of Rimmer.

“I’m not sulking, I just don’t see why we need to check this ship, we’ve already got an extra crew mate on board ...we don’t need anymore” Rimmer kept his eyes on the console in front of him as he spoke however you couldn’t take your mind of the fact he referred to you as a crew mate. Maybe he’s finally warming up to you.

“Maybe we’ll bump into Ace?” The Cat decided to join in, Lister has briefly mentioned Rimmer’s alter ego Ace and from what you could gather everyone but Rimmer liked him.

“Ah I love that man” Lister joined in as Rimmer let out a groan “The only version of Rimmer that can be considered a man”

“Alright guys give it a rest, how would you like it we were teasing you?” You shut them down, noticing Rimmer turning from his screen to look at you for a split second from the corner of your eye.

“Did you just stand up for Rimmer?” Lister turned to face you as did Kryten and The Cat.

“Is that so wrong?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Yes!” Lister, Kryten and the Cat said in unison.

“Well you’re all a bunch of smeg heads” You grumbled.

“Ooh Y/N cares about Rimmer” Lister teased as Rimmer let out a tut.

“Have we reached the ship yet?” Rimmer growled as the ship came to a sudden stop with a jolt.

“Erm ...maybe” The Cat smiled awkwardly, clearly too interested in the drama in the cockpit than the spaceship we were hurtling towards.

“Here’s the plan, Y/N, Lister and the Cat look for any remaining crew members, Kryten and I will look for supplies” Rimmer ordered, he may not officially be an officer but 3 million years into deep space with the last human, a robot and a half cat wasn’t going to stop him pretending to be and it wasn’t until he looked up from getting ready that he noticed Lister, Kryten and Cat already down the corridor of the abandoned ship.

“Have fun you two!” Lister shouted down the corridor.

“Smeg!” Rimmer grumbled “Come on”

Of course Rimmer wasn’t pleased to be left alone with you and as much as you wanted to get to know Rimmer better you knew it was not going to be easy.

“Just to set the record straight I had nothing to do with this” You put it out there as Rimmer kept his focus on searching for supplies.

“Uh huh” Was the only response he was willing to give.

“Fine” You muttered under your breath as you too looked for supplies to take back.

“Nothing in here, onto the next room” You let Rimmer boss you about, after all standing your ground against him would just end in a fight.

“Yes sir!” You replied sarcastically, earning a frown before he walked off.

After a few more rooms it was clear there wasn’t much to salvage besides a few crates of lager, medical supplies and a bunch of stationary that only Rimmer would’ve spotted.

You and Rimmer sat in Starbug in silence as you waited for the others to return, Rimmer completely blocking out his surroundings as he went through his new haul of pens and notebooks. You knew Rimmer wasn’t like the others, as much as he hated to admit it he was shy and very awkward, his interests were on the opposite end of the scale to Lister and the Cat and he had clearly built up some very high walls in need to protect himself. Watching the way his face lit up over his new stationary made you smile, a smile you were completely unaware of until Rimmer looked up.

“Shouldn’t the others be back soon?” You immediately tried to change the subject as Rimmer tried to put his focus back on his notebooks but unbeknown why, he was struggling.

“Listy? Can you hear me?” Rimmer poked a button next to his monitor.

“Having fun Arnie?” Lister teased once more through the reciever.

“Have you found anyone?” You jumped in, you wasn’t in the mood to hear him taunt Rimmer more.

“Nah we’re heading back to Starbug now! What about supplies?” Lister replied.

“Found a few crates of lager and some medical supplies but that’s about it” You explained, leaving out Rimmer’s stationary supplies to save him from the teasing.

“Nice, we’re a few minutes away, see you guys soon” And with that the cockpit went silent.

Even though Rimmer acted as though he was ignoring everything it was obvious he had picked up on you leaving out his haul to spare him as his foot suddenly started tapping the floor beneath it not sure how to deal with the emotions he was currently feeling.

Rimmer was proving to be a tough nut to crack, either only talking to the boys, remaining silent or even leaving the room in some cases. He did talk to you but only when it was absolutely necessary and it became an extremely regular thing for the rest of the crew to run off and leave you alone together.

Another day ...or night ...it was a guessing game half the time and even if it did turn out to be midnight it didn’t stop You and Lister chowing down on a hefty bowl of cereal.

“Thanks Krytes” You smiled as Kryten placed a bowl of your favourite cereal and juice on the table in front of you as you remained focused on the book you was reading.

“You’re welcome ma’am!” Kryten smiled before scuttling off, after all there was always bound to be a basket of Listers socks and underwear in desperate need of cleaning.

“Hmm that’s good” You happily munched away on your breakfast, noticing Lister hanging over the side of his bunk from the corner of your eye “Don’t even think about touching that guitar”

“Yes please don’t” Rimmer walked in, eyes down on the papers in his hand.

“Alright jesus” Lister whined as he threw himself back in his bunk.

“Good morning Arnold” You called him by his first name in an attempt to get a reaction from him.

“Morning” Rimmer mumbled looking up from his notebook for a short second before looking back down, he definitely noticed.

“What are you up to?” You asked trying to spark up a conversation with the hologram sat opposite you.

“Probably studying to fail his Astro-navs again” Lister teased.

“Oi!” You shot Lister a look.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Rimmer snapped at Lister.

“Ooh someone woke up on the wrong side of the ship this morning?” Lister set off on his mission to piss off Rimmer.

“Shut up” Rimmer growled.

“Just ignore him” You spoke only loud enough for Rimmer to hear as he looked up and spotted the book you were reading.

“You’re reading the space corps directives?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow at the book.

“Yeah why not?” You smiled as you flicked the page, Rimmer’s eyes shot back down to the paperwork in front of him.

“I wouldn’t bother, we ignore practically all of them” Lister chimed in.

“Correction Listy ...you ignore all of them” Rimmer looked over at Lister sprawled out in his bunk.

“They are rules and rules are for goodie goodies” Lister huffed.

“Rules exist for a reason” Rimmer replied sternly.

“Rules are made to be broken Rimmer” Lister grinned “Not that you’d have the balls to do that”

“Alright that’s enough Lister” You shot Lister a look that shut him up instantly “Every conversation doesn’t have to end in you belittling Arnold”

And it was with that last sentence that Rimmer had up and left. This is how most days panned out, you’d finally get a conversation going then Lister or The Cat would butt in and insult or berate Rimmer. Being 3 million years into deep space you could understand that there wasn’t much to do and boredom would ensue but it wasn’t an excuse to treat Rimmer the way they did, especially knowing what they know about him.

“So are you staying on Red Dwarf then?” Lister asked, eyes fixated on the screen in front of him as he played his video game.

“I don’t know” You sighed, trying desperately to focus on the book you were reading and not on the nonsense in your head.

After a month or so of space exploration with the boys from the Dwarf you had obtained a substantial book collection ...a collection you knew was sparking the interest of Rimmer although he’d rather die again than admit it.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lister paused his game to look at you.

“I love Red Dwarf I really do but I know someone doesn’t like me being here” You mumbled.

“Ahh don’t worry about that smeghead” Lister grinned.

“That’s quite hard when you lot keep leaving me alone with him” You grumbled, there was sounds of movement outside the doorway of the crews living quarters to which you assumed was Kryten “I’ve tried my best Dave and he still ignores me”

“You know what he’s like, he’s Rimmer” Lister tried to comfort you but it wasn’t helping, Rimmer being Rimmer was the problem, his personality was so much different to the others which made him all that more interesting but trying to get through those walls was like breaking them down with a plastic spoon, long and tiring.

“How do I get through to him Lister?” You grumbled once more “I’m not a bad person”

“Talk to him” Lister turned back to his game.

“You know he just ignores me” You sighed, maybe there something more than even you were aware of going on “I just want him to feel comfortable around me, I try and start up conversation, I’m nothing but nice to him and I stand up for him when you lot are being smegheads”

“Awh come on winding Rimmer up is fun” Lister smiled.

“Maybe you should take his feelings into consideration every once in a while” You scolded Dave as you left the crew quarters, seeing a faint blur of blue dash down the corridor. It wasn’t Kryten walking past earlier after all, it was in fact Rimmer, the one who you had just been talking about to Lister and he had clearly heard everything as he scarpered away to avoid being seen.

You spent hours traipsing the floors of the dwarf trying to find Rimmer but if there was one thing he was definitely good at it was a hiding.

“Rimmer please come out from where you’re hiding? I just want to talk” You called out with no response until a few moments later there was a loud bang and an ‘oh smeg!” coming from Starbug “Arnold I know you’re in there?”

After a few seconds of silence and no answer you opened the door to let yourself in.

“Can we talk?” You asked as Rimmer sat with his elbows resting on the console and his hands resting at the back of his neck.

“I heard everything by the way” Rimmer mumbled.

#arnold rimmer #red dwarf #arnold j rimmer #arnold judas rimmer #rimmer #my emotional support bastard #dave lister #kryten #the cat #starbug #holly #Arnold rimmer x reader #Rimmer x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #hologram #fluff fic #yikes didn’t realize how long this was 😅#the first two parts aren’t great but stick with it pls

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elaboratedbee · 4 years

Text

Bigby x Reader

Request For: @strawberry-kitty-kat

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Female Reader

Summary: the big bad wolf makes it his mission to warm you up, and find out who you are.

Rating: E

Word Count: 6,206

Note: whoo, my first request! :)

A Dream Of Spring

Bigby

The first time that he saw her, it was in the elevator. Sees her was a slight overstatement, considering that her face was obscured by the overflowing cardboard box that she was holding in both arms, papers, files and stationary balanced precariously on top of one another. “Hold the elevator, please!” She called out, and her voice was unfamiliar to him. Wordlessly, he complied and stuck out a foot to jam between the sliding metal doors, triggering them to open up once more.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, she hurried into the elevator beside him and now that they were standing side-on, he could regard her properly. Her face was still not one that he registered seeing before, and he thought to himself that she is striking enough that he would have remembered the first time. “Thanks,” she offered him a smile, which is genuine though slightly strained and he offered her a nod in return, his mouth occupied with his cigarette as he pressed the button for the business office.

Bigby usually felt comfortable in silence, preferred it, even, but he felt compelled to introduce himself. Maybe it was because he found her so beautiful. He knew he would remember her and he wanted him to remember him too, desperately so. “Going to the business office?” He questioned gruffly, exhaling smoke into the little metal box.

“Yes, it’s my first day,” she replied, which Bigby supposed explained the box of things. He connected the dots in his head as the elevator doors hauled themselves open once more with a groan of protest. It was a wonder the rusty contraption hadn’t broken down already.

“You’re Snow’s replacement, her assistant?” It was barely a question as he asked it, considering that he already knew the answer and his tone was flat, “I’m going to speak to her now, I’ll show you in.” Bigby reached over and took the box from her arms, seeing that she was now straining slightly under the weight of copious books and stacks of paper. As he did so, their fingertips brushed ever so slightly, and a shock travelled through his body. They were freezing.

“Sorry, I’m a little cold,” she apologised immediately, seemingly embarrassed by the incident as she hurriedly shoved her hands deep into her pockets. Bigby regretted letting his expression of surprise show so clearly on his face and masked it, though it was too late.

A little cold? Sure, it was December, but it wasn’t cold in the building. Shrugging it off, he waved her apology away and they began walking down the hallway. “Takes more than a little cold to bother me,” he assured her, his words slightly muffled from his cigarette now that his hands were full with the box.

“How’s that?” She asked curiously, and he was surprised again at the question. Most of the Fables would have known the answer, seen or heard about what he was capable of.

Setting the box down so that he could open the door to the business office, he removed his cigarette so that his words were now crystal clear.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the big, bad wolf.” He answered her in a low voice, swinging the door open and swiping the box off of the ground once more. To his slight annoyance, she proceeded to laugh at him and follow him into the large office.

“Alright, well, right now the ‘big, bad wolf’ is carrying my desk toys, so I’m not exactly shaking in my boots.” She teased him, and that startled a small smile out of the Sheriff. It wasn’t often that he came across someone who taunted him in good faith the first time they met him. The more common reaction to his presence was fear, anger, or some combination of the two. The office was empty, meaning Snow must have stepped out to take care of some matter or other and inexplicably, Bigby felt a small spark of excitement at being alone with the new assistant for a little longer.

“What I am scared of,” she continued, sitting down on top of the desk and swinging her legs where they didn’t meet the ground, “is my first day on the job. You’re the Sheriff, you must know Snow pretty well, right? Is there anything in particular that I should do, or more importantly, not do? Like does she hate grammar errors or have an allergy to desk plants or something?” She stopped talking all of a sudden, and her pale cheeks made the light flush breaking out on them obvious. She flashed him an embarrassed smile to apologise for her nervous rambling.

Bigby couldn’t help but stare, listening intently to her every word. The way her legs swung was almost child-like, she seemed so innocent. He was struck by the desire to pick up her box of things again and walk her out of this place before she saw anything less than pleasant. The business office was a hell of a lot less corrupt than it used to be, but the nature of the crimes and issues discussed in this room were still oftentimes disturbing. He didn’t want her to see that.

Or maybe, he didn’t want her to see him like that.

“You’ll be fine,” he cursed himself for his absolute ineptitude as she listens to his utterly pathetic piece of advice. Was that supposed to be reassuring? She was going to think he was some kind of psychopath. Reminding himself that was exactly how he was meant to be perceived, Bigby finally extinguished his cigarette and looked away.

To his surprise, when he turned back, she was smiling. “Thank you.”

Bigby could tell when someone was lying and when someone was being ingenuine, and to his absolute disbelief, she was sincere. She stood from the desk and offered him a hand to shake, looking up at him with a sense of determination that didn’t shine as brightly as before. “You can call me Ro. I don’t feel as nervous anymore, now that I have you.” Her voice was bright and casual - it was nothing but an offhand expression of gratitude, but Bigby’s heart went still in his chest.

His hand enveloped her small one almost completely, each of her digits branding a searing coldness into his warm skin. Bigby didn’t want to let go, he wanted to keep them there until they were warm.

He didn’t.

They shook hands and pulled away, and she turned away from him and started pulling things out of the box, placing them on the wooden surface with care. Dumbstruck, Bigby stood like a statue for what felt like an hour but was thankfully only seconds, before he turned and walked away. Slowly, he closed his palm into a fist, swearing that he could still feel her hand in his. Whether that was from the cold, or for another reason, he didn’t want to consider.

The wolf was already out of the building before he realised that he hadn’t even accomplished what he meant to do in the business office. He resolved to do it at another time, and as he raised a packet of cigarettes, he couldn’t help but smile just ever so slightly. If he tried, he could pretend it was the prospect of a cigarette and not the prospect of seeing her again.

It was the next day before he finally got around to tracking Snow down again, and as he headed down the corridor to the business office, he could hear the faint sound of laughter behind the door. It was rare to hear Snow laugh at work, and he knew it must be Ro’s doing. Bigby didn’t know why he was getting nervous before he opened the door, he’d never been that way before, even when he knew he was on his way to be reprimanded by the deputy mayor herself.

The Sheriff opened to door to a scene of veritable chaos. The new assistant was precariously balanced on one of the bookshelves, as Bufkin hovered nearby, concerned. Snow was laughing as she pulled one of the heavy ladders up to the shelves and he caught the tail-end of a discussion before they noted his entry.

“- would’ve been fine, these bookshelves aren’t too hard to climb.”

“Next time that Bufkin is asleep on the job, you wake him up. Or, at least use a ladder.” Even if Snow was telling both of her teammates off, her voice was full of amusement for the two of them. With a triumphant grin, Ro swiped the desired book off the shelf before obediently returning to the ground via the ladder that Snow had provided. As he feet hit the ground, she saw him over Snow’s shoulder and her face brightened with a smile.

It made Bigby’s chest feel tight, that she was happy to see him.

Snow turned around and gave him a wave, which he returned with a nod. Making his way over to the deputy mayor, he tried not to be distracted by the sound of his obsession’s voice, discussing some sort of financial matter with Bufkin as he reported to Snow. The princess preferred to be kept in the loop about the happenings of Fabletown, considering the criminal ongoing of the community often affected who walked in and out of her door needing a favour, and Bigby was happy to comply. Snow had proved herself a worthy partner, and mayor, many times over.

Once they were finished, Bigby turned to leave slowly, hoping that he could think of some reason to stay a little longer, an excuse to speak to her. It would turn out that wasn’t necessary, as a call of his name met his ears. Ro waved him over to her desk and he raised his eyebrows at the sight. No wonder that box had been so damn heavy for her, the surface was covered in trinkets and ornaments.

A garish mug that held her pens proclaimed, “I love NY!” Next to that, a glass jar of candies with the lid off, an offering to anyone waiting to see Snow. It was an odd and thoughtful gesture that he didn’t recall seeing anywhere before in Fabletown. An elegant wooden picture frame faced away from him, preventing the wolf from seeing the picture inside, sparking his curiosity. Besides the frame sat a small but ornate snowglobe, and he was afraid to pick it up, fearing that he’d be too rough and break it. Finally, a gathering of tiny plant pots congregated in the corner; a succulent, a Chinese money plant and a cactus.

He huffed in amusement at the sight of it, “that is the ugliest fucking mug I have ever seen.”

Ro scowled at him, but her eyes were sparkling. “Shut up, Bigby, this is a very impressive collection, alright?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” The wolf’s words were sarcastic, but he raised an eyebrow in question, betraying his curiosity. He ended up leaning against the desk, fixated on her as she told him the story behind every object.

The mug was the first thing that she had bought after everything that happened, ending with all of the Fables moving to the city.

The sweets, she explained, were for anyone who was mad at having to wait in a line for so long and especially for Toad’s son, who was, “extremely adorable,” according to her.

Her tone was soft as she remarked on the snow globe, describing it only as, “a gift,” in a small voice that made Bigby want to find whoever had made her feel that way and rip their arms off of their body. Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. Once again, she was positively freezing to the touch, and this time he even felt minute tremours wracking her frame. Looking up to meet his eyes, she didn’t pull away from him for a long moment. It was nice, to not be feared.

The tension between them mounted, but he found himself unable to pull away from her. Thankfully, she did and brushed over the photograph, reaching for the cactus instead. “This reminds me of you.” She stated factually, holding it up to him.

“How?” Bigby questioned, falling into her trap and watching the mischievous grin of delight appear on her face.

“Prickly,” she laughed when he responded by flipping her off, which only made it worse.

Bigby had to leave after that, heading over to one of the many bars in Fabletown to break up some sort of fight that was breaking out. After receiving a call from the owner, who had yelled down the phone that if Bigby didn’t get there soon then there wouldn’t be a bar left to save, he knew he was in for a fight. Fables didn’t give up easy, especially when they were pissed and drunk. It was not going to be a pleasant evening.

When he returned home much later, with blackened eyes and bleeding knuckles, he stopped by his office to grab some case files before heading up to his room.

There on his desk was the little cactus.

A kind of warmth that started in his stomach crept through his body like it was travelling in his veins, reaching his heart and making it hurt. This was bad. Bigby had it really, really, bad.

The next time that he saw her, it was snowing. A soft dusting of white was beginning to layer on the sidewalks and rooftops outside of the business office, where she stood on the side of the road. Darkness was falling as she attempted to hail a cab, but rush hour traffic meant that she could be waiting for a little while. Approaching, Bigby noted that she was shaking, even more violently than the last time they had met and frowned to himself. “Ro,” he greeted her, as not to frighten her as he came closer.

“Bigby!” She greeted him with a wide smile, despite her chattering teeth.

“It’s getting dark. I’ll wait with you.” He stated, leaving no room for an argument or dispute. Fabletown was a shithole and he wasn’t about to abandon her on the side of the road as dusk fell. She heard his tone and didn’t bother to put up a fight, opting to instead enjoy his company. Once again, she shivered and Bigby couldn’t take it anymore. Uncaring if he was crossing any boundaries, he shrugged off the long coat that he wore in the Wintertime and draped it over her shoulders, still warm from the heat of his body. He was a wolf, he didn’t exactly run cold.

Her mouth fell open in surprise at the sudden weight around her shoulders, and she glanced at him with wide eyes. “You’ll be cold,” she protested, but the shivering had stopped. Bigby would do it a hundred times over.

“I’ll be fine. You’re fucking freezing at the best of times,” he pointed out and she sighed with disappointment at the reminder. It made him curious. “Is there a reason?” He pushed for more information and didn’t receive an answer. The silence stretched out between them and he immediately regretted his decision to ask. After a minute, he felt a pressure at his side.

She was leaning against him.

Bigby felt a surge of panic as he wondered if she could hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest when she was so close like this, which only made it beat faster. Her cold frame was tucked into his side, and he thought he might die on the spot. “I don’t want you to get cold,” her voice was soft. Bigby didn’t care that her temperature didn’t exactly provide him with any real warmth, the hot blood rising in his cheeks was enough to make him feel warm with embarrassment. He counted his blessings that her eyes remained on the street ahead, scanning for a cab.

Eventually, one pulled up on the curb and Bigby stepped forward, opening the door for her. Taking off his coat, she folded it carefully before handing it back to him. So careful with his things, she treated the old, beaten coat like it was of the finest silk. She stepped inside the car and he lingered for a moment, arm resting on the door, the freezing metal no different from Ro’s body temperature.

“Goodnight, Bigby.” She hesitated before leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lips were like ice and he wondered how they weren’t blue. He liked it anyway. Stepping back and shutting the door, Bigby waited on the sidewalk until the taxi was long out of sight before he turned and headed indoors.

He was starting to like the cold.

That night he couldn’t sleep. He had so many questions about who she was, what her Fable was, that it was impossible to take his mind of her as he laid awake in his chair, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. He knew that it must be something to do with her temperature - how else could she be so freezing to the touch all the time? She was constantly shivering and shaking, and it only seemed to be getting worse each time he saw her.

Closing his eyes, he remembered how she felt against his side. Her touch was addictive, worse than the nicotine in his cigarettes. Every time that they came close, it made him need it all the more. His fingers came up to hover over his cheek, where he had kissed him. In his mind, she hadn’t stepped into the cab at all. In his mind, he had taken her into his arms there and then, and kissed her senseless. She would be here in his apartment, pressed up against him and they would be more than warm as -

Bigby shook his head fervently to rid himself of the thoughts, feeling guilty. Tomorrow, he would get answers, he promised himself.

The sun hadn’t fully risen in the sky as he left his apartment the following morning. Heading straight for the business office, he wasted no time in using his keys and opening the door. Switching on the lights, he stepped into the room and looked around. “Bufkin?” He called out, wondering if the winged creature would be present, or awake. There was no answer, so he headed toward the stacks.

This was going to be difficult, considering he didn’t even know her name. That made using the mirror a fruitless task, and while what Bigby was doing by looking her up wasn’t exactly moral per se, looking at her while she was most likely asleep was not a good idea.

Heading over to her desk, he wondered if she would have her real name somewhere. Bigby didn’t spot it, and he was distracted by her collection of things. A fond smile crossed his face, and he picked up the little snowglobe, holding it carefully in his palm. Inspecting it more closely, it was a field covered in snow, and in the centre, there were two figures. A boy and girl, who seemed to be dancing, while he played the flute. Shaking it, he watched the glittery flakes dance and flurry around the little glass sphere.

Thankfully, he had placed it down on the desk before a cough resounded from behind him. “Fuck!” He swore as he spun around to see Bufkin, swallowing his surprise and glaring instead.

“Bigby?” The flying monkey was surprised to see him, “what are you doing?”

“Well,” Bigby hesitated before explaining, which is exactly how he knew what he was doing was a terrible idea, “I was trying to find Ro’s fable. But I don’t know her real name.”

“Ah, I see,” Bufkin seemed thoughtful before he answered, “as always, if you find her real name then I will help you as much as I can, but I can’t help but suggest that you ask her. I’m not sure that she’ll appreciate if you find out without her knowing.”

Hanging his head, Bigby sighed, “I know.” Considering the way he did his job, Bigby wasn’t much used to having the truth withheld from him for long. In the instances when it was, he had never done nothing about it. This was different, he should know that. Looking back at the desk, he saw the space where the cactus used to be and felt ashamed. She had been kinder to him than anyone he had ever met, the first person not to assume he was every bit the beast he once was, and he was already proving to her that she should have treated him like a monster all along.

Bufkin patted his shoulder warily, seemingly relieved that the wolf had come to his senses. Bigby started to walk away from his desk when the sound of keys entering the lock made him freeze. At that moment, Bigby had two options. He could stand there and face whoever it was head-on, or he could try and hide. It was fight or flight, and Bigby had never been much of a flyer.

Upon realising that the door was already open, the person on the other side entered the room. Of course, it was Ro. She stared at him in surprise, obviously shocked to see him in the office so early and without the presence of Snow. “Bigby?” The confusion was evident in her tone, “can I help you with anything?”

His guilt intensified. Only she would assume he was here for a noble cause, for a case he was working on or an urgent business matter. Of course, her first question would not be what he was doing but how she could help. He didn’t know how he ever thought he could deserve a chance with her. Well, this was his chance to ruin it.

“I came here to find your fable. I wanted to know who you are.” Bigby stated bluntly, and he watched as her face fell. Her usually bright eyes went dim, and her ever-bright smile went cold. It was a crushing pain, but it was almost tinged with relief. He had known he wasn’t good enough, known that he was a monster.

At least now that she knew, he could stop pretending.

She didn’t say anything as he walked past her and left.

You

The slam of the door shutting behind him rang in your ears, as you struggled to process the information. You feel tears beginning to sting your eyes, and you’re glad that the wolf walked out so that he didn’t see them. How could he do that to you?

You keep your gaze on the floor as you head to your desk, embarrassed by the display of emotion and not wanting Bufkin to see them. Slamming your papers down on your desk a little harder than you would normally, you sat down and tried to work, but the words were blurry in front of you. Bufkin is quiet behind you, offering a few words of consolation, “If it helps, Miss, he didn’t succeed. In fact, he stopped what he was doing of his own accord before you arrived.”

It was nice of Bufkin to try and comfort you, but his words didn’t fix things, and you were afraid of what kind of sound would come out if you opened in your mouth. You started your paperwork in silence and went about confirming Snow’s schedule for the day until she arrived later. As soon as she arrived, she could tell that something wasn’t right. You greeting was a little quiet, your smile not as genuine, no matter how much you tried to put up a front.

I guess I’m not like Bigby, you thought to yourself bitterly, I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.

Snow didn’t comment on the situation until after you’ve left and returned from the office, delivering papers to the thirteenth floor. When you returned, it was obvious that Bufkin must have reported to Snow what had happened by the pitying look in her eyes. “Don’t,” you pleaded with her, not ready to talk about it and too embarrassed to explain.

“Okay,” she agreed, before biting her lip. “I’ve known Bigby a long time, and you know what that means for a Fable. I’ve seen him grow and change from a heartless monster into a man that cares about Fabletown - maybe even more than anyone else. But he has a funny way of showing it. He yells, and he fights and he pushes everyone away, but at the end of the day, he’s the one out there in the dead of night keeping us safe.”

“What’s your point?” You asked and your voice was tired.

“My point,” she continued patiently, “is that Bigby as a friend is a lot like Bigby as a Sheriff. Even though he pushes you away, he really cares. Now, I think that’s something worth fighting for, and I do, God knows we’ve argued in the past. That doesn’t mean you have to, but it would mean a lot to me if you’d consider it.” After she was done, she continued with her business, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

That woman was a damned good politician.

The next few days were torture. Bigby avoided the business office, and you avoided him. His presence in the Woodlands was already scarce, but now it seemed that he was never home. The few glimpses of him you caught in hallways were brief, and neither of you met one another’s eye line. The closest you come is when you see him enter the elevator as you walk into the building.

This time, you didn’t call for him to wait and he doesn’t.

But you did meet his eyes, not on purpose, as the doors were closing and it made your throat constrict. They were filled with guilt. For a split second, you think of saying something, anything. Of calling his name and having it out right then. But the doors closed, and he was gone again. You started to shiver, feeling colder than you ever have before.

The next time you saw him, you thought that he was dead. He was collapsed in a chair in the business office, as Doctor Swineheart’s elegant fingers moved back and forth. He performed surgery like he was playing the harp, his digits moving surely and gracefully across the strings, the thread following his crescendos up and down, in and out of Bigby’s skin. You wanted him to open his eyes so badly that you could no longer breathe. You closed your eyes and wished you had called out at the elevator. You called out now.

“Bigby!”

Snow, Bufkin and the Doctor turned to look at you. The latter didn’t bat another eye, simply returning to his suturing while the other two gave you a sympathetic glance, but their concern was lying in front of them. As you got closer, you could see the rise and fall of his chest underneath all the blood, and you felt all of the air leave your lungs. The relief was crushing you, and you could have wept if you were able to take your eyes off of him.

“Bigby,” you whispered again, and it’s a broken hush at this point. Reaching out your hand to touch him, you stopped yourself, withdrawing. Your hands were ice, they wouldn’t be any comfort to him. Useless.

At the sound of your voice, he stirred. Eyelids flickering ever so slightly, a low and pained grown escaped his battered mouth. The Doctor was apparently done with him, even though there seemed to be copious amounts of blood to deal with and stood up. “No silver,” he announced, and his tone was calm enough to reassure you all, “he’ll be just fine. I could waste my breath and tell him to take it easy, but I think we all have better things to do.” A chorus of gratitudes accompanied his exit and Snow sighed with frustration.

“He never learns,” she attempted to sound angry, but there was no heat behind it. “Can you take him upstairs? I need to deal with the culprits.” At this time, Bigby finally opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings with a slight air of panic. Once he recognised the faces around him, he calmed, but it was clear that his body is on fire from the pain. Nevertheless, he pushed himself to his feet, clenching his teeth to prevent the howl of pain from escaping. Rushing forward, you placed yourself underneath his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but lean on you for support. Together, you managed to stumble to his apartment, and you patted him down for his keys. Retrieving them from his front pocket, you managed to open the door and turn on the light, revealing the cramped apartment.

It suited him.

You managed to push Bigby into the only available armchair and stood in front of him. Tiredly, he met your eyes and offered you a bloody mockery of a smile. It was a horrible sight.

“Shame they had to go and ruin your pretty face,” you broke the silence, too worried and horrified to put up any defences against the man. Not tonight. You cupped his swollen jaw with one of your hands and he let out a strangled moan, leaning into the touch.

“You ‘fink I’m pretty?” His voice was a slur, due to his broken nose, cut mouth or some combination of the two. At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humour. The pain was making him more candid, you thought. “S’nice,” he continued, “like an icepack.” You realised he was talking about your hands and gave him a strained laugh. At least you could be somewhat helpful. Using the other one to cover his bruised knuckles, you let a silence fall between you again. It wasn’t awkward, anymore. You supposed a near-death experience could do that.

Ignoring his growl of protest, you eventually moved away to grab supplies. A glass of water, towels and real ice. He seemed deeply disappointed in your decision to bring him water of all things. “Whiskey,” he demanded.

“You know what, how about when you can walk over there and pour yourself a glass, you can have some?” You drawled and he let out a frustrated huff, letting his head drop back against the back of the chair. Slowly, you cleaned the blood away, starting with the cut on his forehead and making your way downward. You applied ice to his bruised lip, and slowly and carefully dabbed at the blood from his bullet wounds. It seemed endless.

“Jesus, Bigby.” You breathed out, the metallic scent of blood was thick in the air.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was quiet, unlike how you’d ever heard it before, it was almost frightening.

“Don’t be, you did your job and -”

“Not that.” He cut you off, and stared up at the ceiling, unable to meet your eyes.

“I know.” You cleaned the last of the blood from his chest and decided to wait a while to change the bandages, even though they were already soaking through with blood. After disposing of any blood-soaked materials, you returned to the wolf and carefully pushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Can I do anything else?” You asked, and he flinched at the words. Perhaps it reminded him of the argument you had, or perhaps he was just in too much pain.

“Stay,” his voice was certain, his tone commanding, but his eyes were pleading. Begging. How could you refuse? You sat on the arm of the chair, close by his side as if your mere presence would heal him. Even in the short time that had passed, he looked considerably better than he had when you’d seen him lying on the table, especially without the excess blood staining his skin. With great effort, he turned one of his hands so that it was lying palm up. You knew what he wanted, and you slid your hand into his. He hissed at the temperature, and you wondered if the fact that you’re worried sick makes it worse.

“Bigby,” your voice was slow, and it felt like a loaded question when you asked him again, “can I do anything, else?” He clenched his jaw like he was trying to stop himself and can’t, sitting up and leaning close to you, until your lips were an inch away from his. For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared at you while you breathed one another in. He’s alive, you thought, and I’ll never forget it. Eventually, he closed his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore.

“Kiss me,” his voice was hoarse. With pain or vulnerability, you didn’t know. But you complied, leaning forward and meeting his lips. He pushed hard and fast, like he had been starved of you for too long, but you pulled back and kept it soft. His poor mouth had been bleeding not too long ago, and you didn’t want to hurt him more. You could tell he didn’t care. Your hands came up to cradle his face, one under his rough jaw and the other firmly gripping his hair. You held him like he was fragile and precious and loved. Slowly, the temperature of your hands started to rise, unnoticeable at first. As you placed gentle kisses on his mouth, and then his cheeks, one on his crooked nose and along his bruised jaw, you felt yourself grow warm, for the first time in your life. It was indescribable.

“Your hands,” Bigby covered one with his own, marvelling. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you acclimatised to the feeling of not feeling cold, feeling pain, wracked with shivers. The wolf raised a hand to wipe them away, letting himself linger on your cheeks now that they weren’t freezing to the touch.

When you were ready, you took a breath and explained to him who you were. “Snegurochka is my real name. You can probably see why I shortened it. But the more common name is The Snow Maiden. I was made of snow by an old couple, they were beautiful. Kind and generous and good, but they could have no children. When Father Frost saw how sad they were, he made me real, so that I could be a daughter to them. But I could never,” you paused, struggling to explain, “I was always cold. I felt cold all of the time, no matter how much I loved them. Soon, I found a new kind of love. At least, I thought that was what it was. I think I just wanted to feel it so badly that I made myself believe it. A boy from the village played music for me, and we played in the snow, enjoying Christmas. When Spring came, I thought that our love would be enough. He led me to the village, to the edge of the woods that I had lived in my whole life. I ignored every warning and stepped out into the Sun. It was an indescribable pain, and I could not follow him.”

Bigby stared at you in silence, listening intently. “The next Winter, I waited to see him again, in the woods. But when I saw him, he had taken another. They played together in the snow, where we once did, and I thought then that I would be cold forever.” Your voice trembled as you recounted the story of your heartbreak before you looked at him.

“But you, you kissed me and meant it. You broke the spell. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you before, about who I was. To be honest, I think I was hoping that you would.” It was a lot to take in, and Bigby seemed speechless for a long moment. Wordlessly, he pulled you close and pressed a hard, forceful kiss to your lips.

“Never again,” he promised, “you’ll never be cold again.”

It was a fairly hard task that Bigby had undertaken that night, but he went about it dutifully. You still got cold far more easily than almost anyone else, your fingertips icy and the tips of your ears going red. The wolf liked to cocoon your hands within his, warming them up whenever the two of you stood still in the cold. Before you went outside in foul weather, he would drape a coat around you, or hang a scarf around your neck. More often than not, he would dress you in something of his. He didn’t admit it, but you were fairly sure he just liked to see you marked as his for the rest of the world to see.

It was sweet, the way he pressed kisses to your cold fingertips when nobody was looking and tucked you under his arm if the wind was howling, but really, the cold didn’t bother you anymore.

No matter how much the ice froze, the wind pushed, the rain poured and the snow danced, as long as you had Bigby, your love for him burned hot in your chest like a roaring fire, warming you from the inside out.

#the wolf among us #twau #twauimagine #bigbyxreader #bigby x reader #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigbywolfxreader #the wolf among us imagine #the wolf among us fic #the wolf among us fanfiction #imagine #request

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imjeralee · 3 years

Text

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 15 - Leon in Love? (Part 2)

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell - here is the latest update

Leon in Love?

Part 2

…

[“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.”

- Friedrich Nietzsche]

…

You awake to the rhythmic beeping sounds of a heart-rate monitor, your eyes opening and adjusting to the light of the room.

Emitting an inaudible sigh under your breath, you throw a quick glance to yourself to assess the damage.

Your mauled arm is bandaged and someone has cleaned you up. There’s no more blood. Your hair has been washed and your skin scrubbed. You smell like daisies but your clothes are not your own. Instead, you’re donned in nothing but a flimsy, paste-coloured hospital gown and there's a plastic bracelet with a barcode strapped around your wrist. An IV drip has also been set up along with the EKG machine.

To your left, you spot a capless and cape-less Leon sitting on the chair provided, albeit he appears to be sleeping with his arms crossed and his face buried in the crook of his elbow, using your bed to rest.

It is beyond your comprehension as to why Leon is here, especially after what he witnessed for himself in the art gallery.

Your throat hurts, not that you have the energy nor are you in the mood to talk. Leon looks comfortable sleeping by your side so you settle your gaze on the Champion of Galar and observe him for a few seconds or so before you slowly ease your good arm out from underneath the blanket to reach over and pat him on the crown of his head, your hand patting his unruly purple locks.

His hair is so light and soft and unfortunately your brief petting session comes to an end when he shifts, brows furrowing, and so you are quick to retreat your hand. You hope you hadn’t woken him up but when he groans, you quickly return to lie over the bed and close your eyes, pretending to be asleep.

You hear Leon shifting out of his spot before he unfolds his arms off the mattress, grabs his hat from the bedside table and dons it, and sits up. He emits a soft groan and a gentle yawn before the room grows quiet. He sounds exhausted.

It's not difficult to perceive when you're being watched, and you feel his gaze landing on your form before the duvet shuffles slightly under your grip and is carefully pulled up to your chin. Following that, your hair is gently smoothed down.

Your heartbeat spikes and the monitor emits a particularly harsh sounding beep.

“Hm?” Leon utters whilst you cringe. “That doesn’t seem normal…”

The legs of the chair squeals against the floor, light footsteps meander away, the door opens with a creak and slowly returns to the doorframe with a well-timed but shrill screech.

When all grows silent, you open one eye, look around and sit up.

You have been betrayed by the heart monitor and you wonder if you should have pretended to be asleep or not. However, several pairs of footsteps approach your room and the door eases open; glancing up, you see Leon with a doctor and nurse by his side.

The champion's expression lights up at once when he sees you blinking blankly at him.

“You’re awake!” he exclaims, his grin widening.

You should respond, nod or indicate in some manner, but all you do is slide your desolate gaze to your lap.

The doctor and nurse stroll to your bedside to begin the checkup and Leon automatically leaves the room to give you some privacy. You peer over the doctor’s shoulder as much as you can, watching Leon leave and close the door behind him; the doctor begins checking your back and chest with his stethoscope and asks you to sit properly on the bed and to remain still.

Then they ask you some questions but overall, you're told you’re fine and recuperating well.

Leon returns once the checkup is over and you lie in bed, inspecting your bandaged arm. Apparently you’ve got stitches but the injury will heal and fade, though a scar will most likely persist.

You emit another sigh as he seats himself on the chair, dragging it closer to your side.

“Hey...” he says.

When you shift your attention from your arm to the Champion, your gazes meet. “Hi Leon,” you say quietly.

“Are you okay?”

You divert your limp gaze to the window. “…Yeah.”

Your lethargy and dour mood does not go unnoticed; in an attempt to cheer you up, he reaches over and slowly worms his hand into yours, the heat from his palm spreading pleasantly into yours and thoroughly warming you up. You freeze for a split second before you throw your gaze to your entwined hands and your heartbeat promptly speeds up again, the room becoming prickled with a rapid and incessant influx of beeping sounds courtesy of the heart monitor.

Leon glances at the EKG and swerves his eyes to you.

You bite down on your lip, cheeks inevitably growing warm.

And he subsequently lets go of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he mutters sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “...I’ll give you some space.”

You say nothing and a tense silence spawns as you lower your gaze once more but Leon continues to wordlessly regard you for a few seconds or so and the atmosphere quickly grows awkward. Instead, you attempt to make yourself comfortable on the bed and Leon springs into action.

“Let me help.”

Before you can protest, he’s already adjusting the pillow behind your head and smoothing the case down.

“How’s this?”

“Good. Thank you.”

He grins widely in response.

“You must be thirsty,” he adds, and he grabs a silver flask that stands on the bedside table, unscrews the lid and pours some water into a glass which he settles it in your hands. You blink in surprise before you thank him quietly, tip the glass over your lips and gulp down the contents.

He’s treating you like a queen. Last time Leon was the one in hospital and now it’s your turn. How the tables have turned.

“What time is it?” you ask, as Leon takes the glass off you and returns it to the table.

“About three am.”

You stiffen all over. “…Leon, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you would be fine.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Unfortunately I’m not allowed to stay for the remainder of the night but I want to stay with you for as long as I can,” Leon murmurs, and he sounds terribly disappointed, “I really wanted to and I asked, but Chairman Rose won’t allow it. They want me to get fitted for a new shirt.”

You mull over his words. Leon is the first person at your side upon your awakening and he had wanted to stay with you for the rest of the night. It rapidly sinks in your mind and it’s happening again: heat crawls over your cheeks but it’s not just you this time; the two of you toss your gazes at everywhere but each other until the events at the art gallery invades your mind and a deep frown worms its way over your face.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that," you mumble, "and I’m sorry for ruining your shirt and cape."

"There's no need to apologise. I have plenty of spares at home and the cape's sent off to a dry cleaners."

You still feed bad regardless. “...And Spiritomb escaped too."

He nods minutely, taking note of your dark expression.

“Leon, I-“

There is a knock on the door and it opens to reveal a weary-looking Graves dressed in a ragged black tracksuit and beanie. He steps in and greets Leon before he throws his glance to you as you lie on the bed with the bandaged arm and forehead but then he sees Leon clutching your hand and stares intensely.

“Am I interrupting something?” Graves mutters.

You and Leon hurriedly let go of each other though on this occasion, you were quicker than Leon to shake your hand out of his, which you think he realises because he throws you a surprised look.

Graves pulls off his hat and fans himself as he stops by your bedside, “Good to see you’re awake. You okay, kid?”

You nod. “I’m fine. Is Jace okay?”

From the corner of your eye, Leon’s expression falters immediately upon your mentioning of your friend. Though it is not entirely noticeable, you are able to perceive the slight change.

“He’s fine,” Graves replies, “Jeez, focus on yourself for a change, would ya?”

“What about the other two?”

“They’re fine, and Magnolia and Sonia popped by earlier. They left warm clothes for you and food over there,” Graves points to a random counter where you see a black bag sitting near a pile of paper towels, “I’m gonna get some testimony off your friend and those men... Cole and…whats-his-face, Tan-something. Arceus, it’s a mess.”

“What’s happened?”

“Well, that Tan guy could face charges for grievous bodily assault. He’s denying it even though we have the video footage,” Graves scratches at his stubbly chin with a sigh. “He says he was possessed.”

“He was.”

Graves sighs heavily once more in response to your statement, “…And I’m also going to speak to Rose. I mean, I sort of did already but I need to speak to him again; they can’t just say they’re not liable for…this.” He gestures flimsily to your injuries.

“I signed some papers though.”

“Yeah, and I really wished you hadn’t. Let me see what I can do.” Turning to the champion, he adds, “Thank you for saving her.”

“You’re very welcome, sir,” Leon replies with a smile, "I'll speak to Chairman Rose too. I'm sure he'll come around."

"Thanks, Leon, that would be very helpful. I appreciate that."

Suddenly, Graves looks at you squarely in the eye, "Now don't you go talking to Rose yet."

"I won't," you reply; you agree with his decision for you might punch him in the face should you see him.

With another firm nod, Graves briefly turns, a move indicating that he is about to leave, but then he pauses and decides to shoot you and Leon curious looks before his brows furrow questioningly.

“Are you two-“

You’re aware that he is wondering if there is something going on between you and the champion but either way, he’s decided not to comment any further as he doesn’t complete his sentence and begins to waddle towards the door.

“Never mind,” Graves utters under his breath, “Get some sleep, kiddo.”

“Wait, before you go, I have a favour," you say.

“What?”

“Can you look up Edward Rose? He was Chairman Rose’s ancestor. Can you check if he was a Satanist or something?”

Both Graves and Leon look baffled by your request but the inspector nods nevertheless.

“Alright, fine, I will. Now get some rest. That is an order.” Graves barks, pointing at you before he promptly steps towards the door; you see a familiar face peering in through the gap and you sit up properly in bed.

“Jace?”

The blonde pokes the door open and slips inside the room; your face lights up upon his arrival.

“Jace!” you exclaim, and Jace grins widely at you in response whilst Leon tenses slightly in his chair.

“Oh, chuck, you’re okay!” the blonde abruptly dives for you and sweeps you up in his arms.

Whilst Graves sighs helplessly as Jace hugs you tightly, Leon sits quietly in his chair, his gaze pinned on you before he shifts his focus to the blonde.

“Arceus, I was so worried!” Jace cries loudly.

“I’m fine…are you okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Alright, alright, give her some space,” Graves snaps at the blonde, and much to Leon’s relief, he steps in and pries Jace away from you. “She needs rest. You both do.”

“Okay,” Jace replies, sulking slightly. “…I’ll see you in the morning?”

You nod and Jace flashes you a wide smile and a wink which makes Leon bristle on the spot when he sees you finally smiling before Graves escorts him out. Once Graves and Jace have left the room, your smile disappears and Leon glimpses to you.

“That’s Jace,” you point out, and he nods.

“I know,” he replies, his voice lower than usual. You can’t help but feel he looks tense all of a sudden.

“Graves is my godfather.”

He nods once more. “How long have you and Jace been friends?”

“Since I moved to Galar. He’s one of the first people I met.”

“I see.”

“…Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Leon musters a smile and just like that, he’s back….back to being cheerful and happy. However, the smile quickly vanishes when his gaze lands on your injuries and he averts his glance to his lap. “...I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“If it wasn’t for me, if I didn’t tell Chairman Rose, then this wouldn’t have happened to you."

"It’s no-one’s fault. Whether you spoke to Rose or not, he probably would’ve reached out to me somehow and I willingly accepted this case anyway.”

“…I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, “Please forgive me.”

“Leon, it’s okay. And...thank you for saving me. I would've died if you hadn't come."

He manages to smile reassuringly at you, cheeks going pink. "Of course I had to come, I was worried."

Following that, the room simmers into silence.

"...Graves is right,” you speak up again, in an effort to break the crushing monotony, “he warned me not to work on cases anymore. He was worried I’d end up dead. He’s right. I mean, look at me. And look at Jace. He got injured because of me, and you and Charizard could have been hurt too....but Spiritomb is out there so I can’t just quit entirely… and my family are depending on me,” you utter, before you glance around the room, sigh heavily and throw your weary glance to the Champion, "...I need some fresh air. Do you want to go for a walk?”

"Aren't you tired?"

"I'm okay, I just want to stretch my legs."

“I’m not sure if you’re allowed to leave the room.”

“It’ll be fine, we won’t be gone for long.”

Leon is reluctant but you turn to slide out of bed regardless and so he helps you out and you head to the bag with the warm clothes Magnolia and Sonia had brought for you.

You grab an oversized hooded sweater along with a pair of black thermal leggings and you quickly pull them on even though Leon is standing in front of you; he turns red when you step into each leg and ease it over your hips, leaving the gown untucked.

You also find some sandwiches and a juicebox which Magnolia has packed for you so you hold onto those. When you’re ready, you leave the sanctity of the warm and toasty private room with Leon trailing after you and you arrive at the chilly corridor where you glimpse around casually.

“Is this the same hospital you were admitted to?” you ask, and he nods, “can we go to that yard with the fountain you took me last time?”

“Sure.”

You and Leon make your way through the corridor and find the same patient’s communal area from last time, except on this occasion it’s dark with the lights and TV switched off and overall, it’s empty. Up ahead, the door that leads to the yard is your destination.

Surprisingly, it’s unlocked and you step in. It’s different at night but very much relaxing and tranquil with the lack of individuals around. Despite the unforgiving frigidness of the night, the warm clothes you are wearing are providing to be effective whereas you look at Leon and he’s still in his torn champion shirt which is caked with some dried blood, yours, of course, and it makes you cringe when you can see a small inch or so of his tanned skin and flat but muscular stomach and you’re more concerned for his well-being but he reassures you he is fine.

You seat yourself down on a cold bench near the fountain and Leon joins you where you silently contemplate tonight’s events and what it means for your future before you look up at the sky. The moon is round and bright tonight, and the stars twinkle dimly in the sea of darkness. You're reminded of the time you sat together on the roof of his house, except you're loaded with painkiller and your mood has plummeted to an unimaginable level. You also seem to be experiencing a mix of self-pity and self-loathing at this very moment.

And then you remember the dream.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you pull out the food Magnolia has left for you along with the juicebox and there's a green post-it note with elaborate handwriting that says 'Get Well Soon!' courtesy of Sonia along with a doodle of Gengar and Mimikyu. Then you unwrap the sandwiches and realise Magnolia has made your favourite fillings.

Leon observes you for a quiet moment as you stare intently at the food before you meekly pick apart the plastic shrink-wrap with your fingers.

"Do you need help?"

You shake your head.

With your one good hand, you pull off the wrapping after a few seconds and finally lift the sandwich to your mouth, biting down and chewing noiselessly, your tastebuds soaking in the flavours.

Leon averts his gaze away so you can eat in peace, however the sounds of your quiet sobs quickly grabs his attention and he turns round questioningly. As you eat, tears are leaking profusely from the corner of your eyes, dripping over your lap.

"What's wrong?!" Leon exclaims as you chew and swallow whilst weeping silently, trembling in your seat, "...What is it?"

Your response is a mere shake of the head as hot, fat tears roll down the curves of your cheeks. Unused to seeing you cry, he glances helplessly around the empty yard as you struggle, shoving morsel after morsel of the crisp white bread along with the cold but delicious filling into your mouth.

“Ah, please don’t…please don’t cry,” he does his best to comfort you and as your sobbing worsens before his very eyes, he slips off the bench, “Don't cry, please."

Your sobs do not stop; through blurred vision, you see Leon crouching in front of you with your hand clamped tightly in his. You don't know what he's doing, having lowered himself on one knee before you and looking up at you like that. You want to tell him to get up, hell, you should tell him to get up. If the press saw him like this, they would yet again have a field day, knowing that you've brought the Champion to his knees somehow. However, all you can manage are unintelligible squeaks and sobs. You end up placing the half-eaten sandwich down and snivel drearily.

The more you cry, the more it hurts him to see you like this and so he returns to sit on the bench before he gently wraps his arms around you and brings you into an embrace. Leon lets you rest your chin on one broad shoulder as he holds you, his thick and sturdy arms wrapping around your form before he proceeds to rub you soothingly and cradle the back of your head. You're pressed against his solid chest and he encourages you to lean against him though his heart thumps frantically against yours, and your sobs gradually come to a stop.

"...Leon?" you croak out, hiccuping slightly.

"Y-yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I-I'm okay."

"...Your heart is pounding really hard."

"I'm sorry, I can't seem to stop it."

As much as you wanted to smile, chuckle and sink further into his chest for you enjoy his comforting warmth, you untangle yourself from his grip and hang your head low.

"What's wrong?" he asks once more, but you shake your head.

"...Don't."

"Don't what?"

"That. Don't do that," you mumble, before you smother and wipe away your unsightly tears with the heel of your hand. Sucking raspy and shaky breaths, you glance at the sandwich but find you have no more appetite.

He's confused and he reaches for you but you rise from the bench to stand.

"...Leon, I think it's best if you stay away from me from now on."

He almost falls out of his seat with shock. Clearly he was not expecting that. “What?”

Offering no further explanation or follow up, you slink your hands into the pockets of your oversized hoodie and step away from him.

Immediately, Leon gets up to follow you without a second to spare; you didn’t realise how much of a fast walker you are as he attempts to catch up to you but you don’t slow down to let him catch up nor do you spare him a second glance and you end up trekking towards the fountain with the Champion at your heels.

“I’m sorry if I made you upset, if I overstepped any boundaries," Leon calls as he hurries after you, "please forgive me.”

"You did nothing wrong."

"Then why...?"

"I had a dream about my family," you reply, listening to the loud crunch as your boots step over the dirt and dried leaves, "and it made me remember just how bad and how complicated things are and now that I think about it, it wasn’t such a long time ago. I haven't made any progress and I can't let it happen again."

"Then let me help. I want to help you," he says, "I'll do everything I can. Tell me."

"No, you can't. And I’m serious. You don't understand. Stay away from me, Leon. It’s for your own good. You shouldn’t be associated with the likes of me anymore.”

A stern shake of his head is your response and you're not surprised he's determined not to heed your warning, and as you wander further away from him, picking up the pace, Leon speeds up and he’s almost at your side and you attempt to evade him by sidestepping away but he reaches forward as quickly as he can and you feel a gentle but firm tug on your hand.

Ultimately, you're brought to a stop.

Turning round, Leon has finally caught up to you, holding your hand tightly in his again.

You slide your gaze to your entwined hands, but this time he does not let go as he stops by your side.

“...No, don’t say that,” he murmurs.

He looks upset.

You've hurt him.

And it hurts you to tell him to stay away from you too, but you ball your fist and bite out, “People call me the ‘Witch of Wedgehurst’."

“I didn’t know.”

“And they think I’m cursed and bad luck.”

“That’s fear and superstition.”

He's still not getting the message. You wriggle free from his grip once more and abruptly turn away, making a beeline for the large tree that stands in the middle of the yard.

Unsurprisingly, Leon follows you, appearing to your left.

You glance away from him to the right.

So he heads to your right but you look to your left.

He trails you all the way to the tree which you circle and he’s trying to keep up. “You tell me to stay away but you let Jace help you," he says, "What makes me different?"

You complete a third lap around the tree yet Leon follows. "You're the Champion of Galar. If anything bad happened to you, I'd never forgive myself. And I messed up back there. I allowed an evil spirit to inhabit my body-“

“It took advantage, it tricked you.”

“Yes, and I could have hurt you if I hadn’t forced it out. I was…I was naïve to think that we….…never mind, you cannot be involved with me any further or else you’ll just get hurt.”

“Don’t say that,” he repeats, and you round the tree once again but instead of following you, Leon heads to the other direction so you end up meeting halfway and you stop when you almost smack into him nose-to-chest.

You blink and glance up, your gazes finally meeting and your heart thumps a tad harder by the close proximity, “Leon, you saw it with your own eyes."

"Yes, I did."

His face bears no cheery expression and perhaps for the first time since you have met, it worries you a little.

"Then I don’t understand why you’re still here and wanting to stay with me and talk to me. I don't want you to see these things. You're not supposed to, I wanted to keep you away from this, from the...from the evil and the darkness. It can destroy someone."

"What I saw and what happened at the art gallery doesn’t change my opinion of you.”

“Which is what???”

“That you’re the bravest person I know," he murmurs, "and I want to do everything I can to protect you. You've selflessly sacrificed yourself for me and I want you to know that I would do the same for you. I'd gladly do it again and again no matter what because I don't want to lose you. You're special to me."

You freeze, stunned.

Wrapping both of his large hands over yours, Leon firmly weaves your fingers together. The heat from his warm palms encompasses your small and fragile palm all over and successfully elicits another harsh thud of your heart. He brings your entwined hands to his chest, a gesture he'd done before and perhaps would do it again should you allow it.

“I may be Champion of Galar but don't treat me differently because of that," he mutters, "don't cast me aside."

Your eyes grow to the size of saucers and your heart lurches angrily against your ribs at his words and it certainly doesn't help as he proceeds to brush his thumbs all over your hand and knuckles.

“I want to protect you, so let me,” Leon murmurs, giving your hand another tight squeeze. “Please.”

His grip on you loosens when he realises how speechless you are but he does not let go of your hand just yet; his gaze dips briefly to your parted lips then to your eyes…then to your lips for a second time.

And it stays there.

Discovering that your feet are firmly rooted to the ground, you can only gawk and blink with muted shock. You cannot imagine how flushed you must look, and the heat on your cheeks is becoming unbearable... and it's all to do with him and what he just said.

Your lack of proper response prompts him to make another move, one that includes moving even closer to you until he is mere inches away. Instinctively, you back away from his approach but Leon steps forwards.

“…Leon?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, steels his nerves and looks deeply into your eyes before he squeezes your hand affectionately and your cheeks grow hotter than ever before as his gaze sweeps over your face. He settles onto your lips for a third time; his mouth moves but you didn't listen to what he had said.

Leon begins to lean forwards.

Eyes widening, your heart pounds viciously as Leon nears and nears; the gap between you gradually grows smaller and your lips are millimetres away and his eyelids slide until they’re half-closed.

Beyond your control, you turn your head to the side slightly and he anticipates your action, attempting to meet you, unwilling to allow the close proximity you are sharing to disappear. You retreat tentatively and bob your head to the other side and he does the same, his lips gravitating further towards you. He’s not letting you go.

His cheeks are fairly pink despite the darkness and he is beginning to sweat slightly as he continues to lean in until your noses touch. When the scruff of his beard scratches delicately against your chin, your body goes numb and your mind fogs all over: it's a clear indication that you’ve reached a certain closeness with the Champion which you didn’t think was possible.

To your utmost surprise and perhaps delight, he chooses to linger, his lips hovering over yours...

You can hear his heart thudding frantically.

For you.

Leon is just as nervous as you are.

However, your fingers are bearing the brunt of Leon’s nervousness as he clenches your hand firmly; they’re beginning to throb under his iron grip and you can't help but wonder if he knows what he's doing, if he's aware of what he's trying to do because it appears he’s trying to get it right, to find the best angle for his lips to meet yours - he must need someone to teach him, to lead him, to guide him...show him how it's done....you, perhaps...Either way, he's innocent and it never crossed your mind at all but now you don't think he's ever kissed anyone before and you're going to be his first kiss.

You swallow that growing lump in your throat as you wait for his mouth to come crashing down against yours, waiting for him to thoroughly capture your lips with his and he is about to as he closes his eyes and you follow his action. Your heart begins clamouring when you finally feel the light but cautious brush of his warm and soft lips gently grazing against yours.

However, a loud knock on the door forces the two of you to jolt and reopen your eyes and everything stops.

Oleana stands at the door with her hands gently clasped in front of her hips, a look of indifference on her pale face. Even at this hour, her hair and makeup are immaculate.

“Excuse me, Mr Champion….Chairman Rose is waiting for you in the car,” she says solemnly as you both hurriedly pull away, your hands parting.

She hardly bats an eyelid as to what she may or may not have just witnessed.

“A-ah, um, yes, t-thanks...” is Leon’s not so eloquent reply whilst you throw your shaky gaze to the side. You’re too nervous to look at him and you hear him cough into his fist loudly before he finally reasserts control over himself - his voice in particular - and he says, rather sternly, “Thank you, Oleana.”

Leon abruptly pulls the visor of his hat down to cover as much of his face as he can; he retreats from you and when you muster the courage to glimpse at him, you see the unabashed wobble of his bottom lip as he steps away.

He’s clearly upset by the interruption.

“G-goodbye,” Leon’s voice is muffled as he stutters behind his hat and he leaves the garden without a further word, joining Oleana’s side where he finally lets go of his snapback to reveal his face, which is red as a tamato berry.

He gives you one final sideways glance and quickly looks away when he realises you are staring too, his face reddening further. You watch them leave wordlessly before you trace your fingertip over your lips gently.

The relationship between you and the Champion has become far more intricate than you could have ever imagined.

…

#jeralee #leon #dande #leon x reader #leon x you #Comfort in Despair #fanfic #pkmn #pokemon #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #pokemon shield and sword #pokemon sword and shield #fic #reader insert #reader

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lightsburnbrite · 3 years

Text

Things We Do for Love: Part 14

Third Part to Such a Thrill and The Devil is in the Details

Leon rolled over and was met with a lick. He scrunched his face and sat up before giving Ember a quick belly rub. Seeing that the bedroom door was ajar, Leon figured Karina was out on the balcony. He stood and stretched before walking towards the door, pausing once he heard voices. After listen for a bit more, he realized it was Karina and her mother having a conversation.

"Why did you leave Canada? Everything was fine here until you decided you needed to come back."

"I didn't like it there. Work was fine but I was…lonely. I came back to take care of a few things and I met up with Leon and I just, I missed him so much. My residence at the museum was up and I was ready to come home."

He heard her mother scoff. "You do realize that the whole point of cutting you off was to get you away from Leon, don't you?"

There was along pause before Karina answered. "Why did you want to get me away from Leon?"

"Because he is Marius's friend first and foremost."

Another pause. "You're saying I don't deserve to be with a man who I love and who makes me happy because Marius doesn't like it?"

"Your brother doesn't deserve to lose his friend because you have a silly little crush. Obviously you are enamored but I doubt he feels the same towards you."

"It's not a crush, we're married."

"Divorced."

"We never filed. We were going to but when we met up to sign the papers it was clear that wasn't what either of us wanted."

"He wanted children."

"Mama, please."

"What?" She scoffed again. "Do you think it's normal that you don't want to have children? How long do you think it's going to take Leon to realize that there's something wrong with you? He's obviously going to leave you anyway, why not keep your inheritance in the long run?"

"There's nothing wrong with me." Karina's voice quivered as if she was trying to convince herself as much as her mother.

"Do you honestly think Leon is going to stick around if you're not willing to give him children? Look at him and then look at you, even before he enhanced his physique he was out of your league. There is absolutely nothing special about you that another woman could not give him and if you keep being as needy as you've come across this weekend then you're going to actively drive him away."

At that point, Leon had heard enough. He walked in to the sitting room and sat down next to Karina on the chaise before turning his attention to her mother. "Leave. Just go. Please."

Rolling her eyes, Karina's mother stood but stopped as she looked at Karina. "Go wash your face. You've made a mess of yourself."

With that, she walked out.

Leon waited a moment before he turned towards Karina. "Maus?"

"Mausi?" Karina had started walking back towards there bedroom but had yet to respond. Finally, he raised his voice. "Karina!"

"What?" She finally stopped and turned to face him, wiping at the mascara smudged under her eyes and on her cheeks.

Leon inhaled, reminding himself to not take her current mood personally. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I'll give you space if that's what you want, but I think you should call Dr. Kattan."

"I'm fine." She shook her head slightly as she turned to walk back. "It's nothing."

He followed her to the bedroom. "I wouldn't call that nothing. Has your mother always spoken to you like that?"

"Like what?" Karina stood in front of the sink and turned the tap on so she could splash some water on her face. "She's just making sure that I keep things in perspective."

Leon felt his voice catch in his throat. It was upsetting to him to hear the way Karina's mother spoke to her but once he realized that she perceived that to be normal it just about broke his heart. "She was berating you."

Karina turned off the tap and dried her face with a towel. "She's not wrong."

"Yes, she is." He moved directly next to Karina now. "I know that you have worked really hard to learn to love yourself and be proud of your achievements. It really bothers me to see your mother undo that in the span of ten minutes."

Karina didn't respond but she allowed Leon to embrace her.

"I will always support you in whatever you need," Leon rested his hand on the back of Karina's neck as he held her against his chest. "And I don't want you to think I'm telling you what to do but…I can't think of why you'd continue to subject yourself to your family."

She stayed silent for a while but laid her head against his shoulder and thumbed the hem of his shirt while leaned into him. "What else am I supposed to do? I thought they cut me off but then I get in trouble for not pushing to get in contact…I don't know what they want from me."

"I get the feeling that they're going to keep moving the goalposts." Leon briefly rested his head against hers. "Maybe you should just take a break from them."

Karina frowned, bewildered as she stepped back to look at him. "How am I supposed to take a break from them when they're in my house?"

Leon shrugged as he let the corner of his mouth lift in a half smile. "I might have made us dinner reservations at Ikarus."

"When did you do that?" She mirrored his smile as if she was only cautiously allowing herself to be happy about it.

"Last night." His smile grew when Karina seemed to visibly relax. "I thought you'd enjoy a little time away."

Karina couldn't stop herself from beaming now as she nearly flung herself at Leon, squeezing him as tightly as she could. "How is it that you always seem to know exactly what I need?"

"We can celebrate you finally being out of the walking boot." Leon smiled as he leaned in to kiss her. "Now, do you want me to bring you up some breakfast?"

With a sigh, Karina shook her head without removing her arms from around Leon's neck. "No, I'm going to face them. Just don't leave me alone with them, please."

While Karina was able to tolerate her parents and Marius, Leon found that he didn't even want to be in the same room as them. Samantha was running around the house, frantically trying to make sure everything was just right for when her parents arrived, much to Karina's amusement. Leon took the opportunity to sit outside with Elsa and Ember and work some more on his foundation, Karina eventually joined him with a winter salad for lunch.

"There you are!" Samantha practically stormed out on to the patio. "I've been trying to figure out seating arrangements for tonight. Where do the two of you want to sit?"

Leon glanced up and smiled. "I'm taking Karina to Salzburg for dinner this evening."

Samantha's strained smile fell. "What am I supposed to tell me parents? My father is a huge football fan, he's expecting to meet you tonight."

"You can tell them that your future in-laws are horrible people and I'm giving my wife a break from them." His face remained stoic while Karina was trying not to laugh.

Karina waited until Samantha had returned inside before moving closer to Leon and resting against him. "What time do we need to leave tonight?"

Leon leaned back against Karina as he glanced at his watch. "Like…an hour and a half."

"Shit." Karina sat bolt upright. "I need to start getting ready."

Tugging on her hand, Leon playfully tried to prevent Karina from standing. "You look great, Maus. No need to change anything."

"Sir," Karina moved back and straddled his lap, "I'm not walking in to a Michelin star restaurant wearing leggings and your old hoodie."

He pretended to frown. "I guess you have a point. Want me to give the girls their dinner?"

"Thank you, Baby." Karina kissed him again before walking back in the house.

After a few minutes, Leon walked in as well and started to set up the dog's food. Once they were finished, he herded the dogs upstairs so he could start getting ready. When he walked into their bedroom, Leon found Karina standing in front of the bathroom mirror applying her makeup. She had obviously showered because her hair was still damp but she was only wearing her bra and underwear.

Leon smirked at her through the mirror as he stepped into the shower.

"I'm kinda surprised at how much I'm looking forward to this." Karina raised her voice just enough so that she could be heard over the water.

"It's been a little while since we've gone out somewhere fancy." Leon let the water run over his face for a second. "I get it, with your ankle and all, but I'm looking forward to it too."

By the time Leon was finished in the shower, Karina was working on her hair. He always loved watching her get ready as she had a very strategic process to doing things, right now she was parting her hair into sections and applying some sort of cream.

"You using the hair dryer?" Leon gently nudged her with his hip.

Karina pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. "I will be but go ahead, you'll be done with it before I would be."

Once he was finished with his hair, Leon went to his wardrobe and picked out a dark grey window pane pattern suit and a white shirt with the deep burgundy tie the that the team wore for their Champion's League travel.

Karina sat on the bed and smiled at him. "I love that suit."

"Yeah?" Leon offered a little smirk. "What are you wearing tonight?"

She thought for a moment before smiling again. "I want it to be a surprise."

"I think we can do that." He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. "How about I go pull the car around while you finish getting dressed and I'll meet you downstairs?"

"Perfect." Karina stood now. "Consider this your preview for when we get home."

Leon stopped in the kitchen to get a glass of water while he waited for Karina.

"You're looking very smart this evening." Karina's father had walked in from their room. "I'm starting to feel a bit under dressed."

Leon pretended to smile. "I wouldn't worry about it. Karina and I have reservations at Ikarus so we won't be here for dinner."

The smile on his face fell. "Is there a reason my daughter is now refusing to participate in an event that is important to her brother?"

"It was my idea." Leon shrugged. "I'm tired of the way you all treat her so I'm taking her out for a nice evening instead."

He scoffed. "The way we treat her?"

"Yes." He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair. "It's beyond obvious that Marius is your favorite and you have no idea how much you have hurt her yet you still expect her to grovel at your feet."

Just then, their mother walked in, obviously having heard Leon. "If I recall correctly, she's been fine until she started seeing you. Now you've managed to fill her head with all these ideas that it's ok to walk away from her family, to ignore her brother-"

"Seriously?" Marius had been standing in front of the wine cabinet, trying to figure out what bottle to bring out, the he'd had enough of the conversation. "Can we just stop talking about Karina? She's always been a bitch and I'm glad she won't be here for dinner."

Leon glanced over at Samantha, who was sitting in the great room waiting for her parents to arrive with a sour expression on her face. He felt like he shouldn't have been surprised that the whole family had found a way to blame Karina for the two of them skipping dinner but it still irritated him. After shaking his head, Leon took his suit jacket from the back of the bar stool and went to get out one of Karina's dress coats.

"Oh my god, are you wearing McQueen?"

Leon heard Samantha's voice and assumed that she was speaking to Karina. He took a few steps towards the stairs to see Karina in a black mini dress with a layer of lace peaking out from the hem and the same lace covering the cut out of the back. Karina smiled a bit sheepishly as she nodded her head. Leon simply beamed back at her. "You look absolutely stunning."

"I might need your help tonight," Karina reached out for Leon's hand as she made her way down the last two steps. "It's been a while since I've worn heels this high."

He glanced down at her stilettos covered with multicolored glitter and smiled. "Anything for you, Maus."

Leon held Karina' coat out for her before opening the door. "Enjoy!" He called out behind him as he closed the door.

Karina sank down in the seat and exhaled as if she had just realized she was holding her breath. "I'm a little nervous about leaving everyone there but god, I needed to get away from them. Is it just me or is it worse than normal?"

"Definitely worse." Leon agreed with her. "They've always been critical of you but now it seems like they're not even bothering to hide that you'll never measure up to Marius in terms of their expectations."

He heard Karina sigh again and he immediately continued. "Which is bullshit, by the way. You're intelligent and becoming highly respected in your field. Not to mention your compassion and generosity. Did you know that Marius never once offered to donate towards our charity? I didn't ask him to but like, you were well on your way to becoming my ex wife and you still went out of your way-"

Leon stopped when he felt Karina kiss the back of his hand. Glancing over at her, he saw Karina give him one of her little half smiles. "Baby, between that suit and the dinner reservations, you're getting whatever kind of sex you want tonight so you don't need to lay it on so thick."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I thought you would have figured it out by now, but I'm your biggest fan, Mausi."

"God, Leon." Karina pretended to be irritated. "You're going to make me cry and ruin my mascara."

He laughed as he gave her a little nudge with his elbow. "And I'd still remind you that you're beautiful."

Karina could only shake her head but she continued to hold on to his hand. After a few moments of silence, she gave it a little squeeze. "Thank you."

"For what?" Leon squeezed her hand back before he moved his hand back to the wheel.

Karina shrugged. "It's just…I know you love me and there aren't any conditions or strings attached to that."

#leon goretzka #things we do for love #Football Fanfiction

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thepandapig · 4 years

Text

When a song hits you

Passion is in every person. Passion is something that everyone can feel. But what if the passion becomes stronger ? The guys from Ateez had to ask themselves the same question when they faced one of their songs. Experience a short insight into the life with a work. -When a song hits you

A/N: Well I had the idea, what if the songs of individual kpop groups came to life and interacted with the members. I had to think of Thanxx from Ateez. This artwork is from a friend of mine that did draw this for the story. Check out her other drawings on her instagram her username is : dancing_._roses

Warning: a slight bit of violence

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Eight pairs of eyes were staring at it. Eight people who could not explain if this was a bad joke. Mingi.Seonghwa, Hongjoong,San,Yunho,Yeosang,Jongho and Wooyoung sat on the sofa of their dorms and looked at the girl in front of them. She had dark blue long hair, which was light in her face. She had a headband, a pile of jewelry and a black tank top. She also wore pants with the Ateez print of the Thanxx performances. Her black boots dangled over the edge of the armchair where she sat and looked cheekily around.

"So again you are THANXX?" Hongjoong asked for the third time and still couldn't believe the girl's crazy story. There was nothing in his head that fitted in with what the girl said. The blue-haired girl nodded again and put her head back into his neck.

"I have said so many times before " She stroked a loose strand of hair from her face and looked up at the ceiling. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa who only pointed to his cell phone. Should you call your manager? Finally a stranger was sitting there. She might as well lie and be a crazy fan. The whole thing with her being Thanxx and managing to break out of the song world was probably made up. Seonghwa stood up and picked up his cell phone as Hongjoong nodded to him. He left the room and called her manager.Seonghwa entered the room again a little later and explained that the manager wanted to talk to the girl.

"So let's go then," Yunho asked when the blue-haired girl did not move. "Why? Don't you trust me? I'm telling the truth" she changed her position in the old brown armchair and looked at the boys.

"Well, it would be nice if you would just come with me." Yunho tried again and fell silent when he saw a big grin on the girl's face. " Shall I prove to you that I am real?" she asked and rose from the armchair.

"Go ahead," Yeosang said, rolling his eyes. If that psycho fan tried to hurt them, she would see what she got out of it.The girl stood in front of San and continued to grin. " I know you always waver between insecurity and confidence on stage. You admire your Hyungs and envy that they sometimes look so carefree while performing. You think that when Mingi and Hongjoong rap the parts of me, they have the best charisma and you would like to have that charisma too.” Everything she said was true.She continued with Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, Jongho, Mingi, Yunho, and then Yeosang, revealing the thoughts and feelings they had on stage. These were things that the boys never wanted to betray. They were embarrassed.

"So you are really our song ? You are real?" Hongjoog asked again and the girl nodded. " How many times?! YEEEES I have said it a thousand times " " We should go to the manager " And with this realization, the new people headed to the KQ Entertainment building. Your manager should take a look at this. Maybe they were all on drugs." And this is supposed to be real ?" asked her manager and the boys nodded slapped. After Thanxx had proven that she was real and not a crazy fan, they had to convince their manager that she was no longer a danger. While the boys talked to him, Thanxx walked around the room and checked everything out. She seemed to be especially interested in the pictures on the wall, which showed different musicians.

"I told you she was real. I don't know where she comes from, but she is our song and I think we have a responsibility for her. We can't just throw her out and ignore her," Hongjoong said, shrugging. He found the whole thing curious and fascinating at the same time. This creature in front of him was something he had done. Something he had created and formed. It was a strange feeling for him.

"And how do we know that she means you no harm? I mean, she could be faking it all and-""How do you pretend to perceive feelings, thoughts and impulses that only take place within yourself?" asked Seonghwa and looked at the manager in a challenging way. He put two fingers on the spot between his eyes and sighed, "Well, if you think it is harmless, it can stay with you. But I want you to get in touch with me if anything happens and I'll come and check on you in between," said the manager and a soft clapping was heard as Wooyoung and San high-fived and giggled. The two chaotic people had already taken Thanxx to their hearts and were looking forward to the coming time with the girl.

"Okay, I think it would be best if the three of us" Seonghwa pointed to himself, "Mingi and Hongjoong" would go out and buy food and Yunho Yeosang and Jongho would tidy up a bit. San and Wooyoung, can I trust you with Thanxx?" asked the elder and examined the two boys who seemed to be planning what to do with the girl. They all nodded and agreed with Seonghwa's plan.

"So let's go to the studio?" San asked and Wooyung nodded "Thanxx come on let's go dance" Thanxx turned around and her blue hair blew like a cape behind her. "Dancing ?" her eyes lit up and the two of them led her to the small dance studio in her basement. The one at KQ was of course bigger and professional, but here the guys could really relax. They had covered one of the walls with mirrors and the floor was taped in some places. In the corner was an old sofa, which had been lovingly furnished by Yeosang with some blankets and pillows. A few chairs stood next to the sofa. On a small cupboard in the corner was a music system with large speakers.

Thanxx liked the design down here. It looked slightly professional, but had something more relaxed than the studio they had seen when they left KQ Entertainment. "It's best to sit down while we warm up. We want to try something out" Wooyoung grinned at her and she did what they wanted. The two guys warmed up a bit and then played one of their songs. Thanxx smiled at them. They danced to her. But they broke out of the usual choreo and just let themselves fall.

Thanxx couldn't resist when she noticed how carefree they were, she had to join them and dance along. The songs kept changing and the three of them relaxed and let the music guide them. San was really surprised how well she could do it. Thanxx moved with an elegance that San would not have thought she could do. Because of the vibes she radiated, San didn't even notice that she had already stopped moving to the music.

"Earth to San" she said and turned around in front of his eyes. He jumped out of his rigidity and looked into her dark eyes. "Sorry, did you say something?" he said and she giggled.

" YES I said if we want to go slowly? Seonghwa makes dinner he said and I don't want to be late" San nodded and rose from his seat next to the door. She was right and they should really leave now. The three of them went back upstairs and the smell of food came up to them. Seonghwa, Mingi and Hongjoong must have been back again. The last one was preparing a room. He moved the beds in his and Seonghwa's room a little and set up a camp bed. Thanxx could sleep with them. Mingi had joined the others and talked to them while they did something. Seonghwa was standing in the kitchen doing something in a pot and Thanxx left the two boys and crept into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" She asked Seonghwa and he winced briefly "I'm making the sauce for dinner" " And what exactly are you doing? "The boys wanted spaghetti," he said and she nodded. "Shall I help you?" He nodded and told her she could set the table. She asked him how exactly to do that and that made him smile. He explained it to her and she set about carrying out the task. The evening was very loud and fun. The boys showed Thanxx some games and made her feel good with them. When she lost she was quite angry and demanded a revenge. This made her laugh more than once. The boys' distrust of her became a little fainter, but it didn't go away. After many hours of playing everything was ready for bed and Thanxx borrowed some clothes from Yunho.

When Yunho asked her why, her answer was astonishing for him. "The clothes will be very big on me and therefore comfortable and I like the way you smell. You remind me of my home" He lay awake even longer and thought about what their home was like. He decided to ask her tomorrow. As Thanxx lay in Hongjoong's bed that evening, Seonghwa grinned from the cot he was lying on. "We have a fan meeting tomorrow... I bet she wants to come?" Seonghwa just nodded. Surely she would not be stopped. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" Thanxx stop it!" Yeosang hissed and pressed her hand down again. She waved to the fans for the thousandth time. It had been a stupid idea to take her to the fan meeting. But they had no other choice, Thanxx refused to stay at home and threatened to burn the dorm down if they left her alone. They really couldn't use broken things anymore. He leaned back in his chair. In front of the glass door were a bunch of fans of the group waiting to take their places. Since Thanxx was sitting right behind them, she also attracted a lot of attention. Yeosang could not blame the fans for their curiosity. Even after the few weeks that Thanxx was with them, he still had a hard time processing that this was one of their songs. Now a being of flesh and blood.

"Okay, guys, as discussed. If anyone asks who she is, let's say she's my cousin," Hongjoong said and everyone nodded. The doors opened a moment later and the fans took their seats. Well, that could be cheerful. The first half hour of the fan meeting was relatively quiet. Thanxx sometimes talked to them and also to the fans and the fans asked her questions from time to time. The boys then told the story that Hongjoong had suggested. The fans seemed to be curious and some took a picture of her. Thanxx also posed with the boys once. After another half hour, some fans asked if it was possible to have the guys dance a little bit. Not averse to the request, Yunho, San and Mingi quickly stood in front and waited for music. The staff played a kind of random dance from Ateez songs and the boys had fun. When the song Thanxx was played, a girl called out to one of her friends that she didn't like the song and they talked a bit about why Inception is better than Thanxx. Thanxx just rolled her eyes. It was clear that there was still a fight about whether her brother or she was better. Inception was the quieter of the sibling couple and was also the one who was preferred more often. But that was only because he was older. At least Thanxx told himself that.

After the boys continued to interact with the fans, Thanxx realized that she urgently needed to use the toilet. She went to the back and did so too. As she washed her hands, she noticed that a girl was staring at her through the mirror the whole time, she didn't think anything of it. The girl had come after her and probably just wanted to use the sink. Thanxx was drying her hands and wanted to leave the bathroom when the girl grabbed her by the shoulder and punched her in the face. Surprised by the unexpected blow, the blue-haired girl staggered backwards and fell to the ground. She held her nose and looked up at the girl with the black hair and braid. What was that about? "I want you to stay away from the boys, whether you are Hongjoong's cousin or not. You have no business being with them, you're worthless anyway," she said and stepped into Thanxx. Slowly, Thanxx understood the situation and tried to sit up. Her side hurt and her nose was still bleeding. The girl wouldn't hurt her again, would she? Yeosang hadn't heard Thanxx say anything for quite a while. He turned around to check on her and realized that she had disappeared. He thought nothing of it and continued talking to the fans in front of him. When she was still gone after a good ten minutes, it seemed strange to him. He apologized briefly from his members and from the fan. He had such a queasy feeling and he should be right. He searched for Thanxx in different rooms and in the end only the toilet was left. Carefully he knocked on the door and entered the room. The door next to Thanxx was opened after a gentle knock. And just in time. The girl had intended. Cut her hair and dragged her across the sink. In her hand she held a pair of scissors that she had pulled out of her backpack. Yeosang could not believe his eyes as he looked into Thanxx's frightened face. Blood was on her face and she seemed to be in pain. "What are you doing?" he asked the girl who was holding Thanxx and she let go immediately. Silence followed his question and the girl seemed to not know what to say. "Thanxx come here," Yeosang said and reached out his hand. Thanxx followed his instruction and the girl looked distraught. Did Yeosang just call her Thanxx? Her head had to play a trick on her. Yeosang opened the door and called for a staff member. This staff member took care of the fan and also of Thanxx. Yeosang explained that he had to go back, but he would come to her immediately after the fan meeting was over. Thanxx nodded and was left in the care of the staff.

"The fan did something?!" Hongjoog asked beside himself. Thanxx and Yeosang had told them the story on the way home. The leader couldn't believe that Atiny would do such a thing. But when he looked at the girl's face and the bruises she had, he had to admit that Atiny would do something like that. Thanxx seemed to be unaffected by all this. Inside she was annoyed that she had not granted herself against the fan. She had just let this happen to her because she was too shocked.

The whole evening the boys took care of her and also the days after, more and more attention was paid to how strong her pain was. The boys did not want her to feel bad. She awakened in all of them an instinct of protection with which they were all a little overwhelmed.

So it dragged on for a couple of weeks. The relationship between Thanxx and the boys got better and better. But at some point, the boys hardly had any time for her, because they had to train. Thanxx did not hold it against them. After all they are idols and have to work. She tried to take care of the dorm and the boys as good as she could. When they were too exhausted after training, she brought them food and made sure that everyone was happy. Hongjoong often needed someone to talk to,Seonghwa loved to show her new things,Yunho often played basketball with her,Yeosang and they liked to gossip,San and Wooyung often fooled around with her,Mingi tried many crazy things with her and Jongho loved to impress her. Just like Atiny and his members, she loved to share fruit with his hands. While the boys trained and enjoyed their time with her, Hongjoong became more and more silent.

He had to tell her. Say that he was working on a new song and she would probably have to leave. Inside, he was sad and scared about it. He had just taken her into his heart and now he should let her go again. He lay awake half the night and didn't really know where to take her. If he would not tell her, it would be treason. If he told her, she might get angry or try to prevent the new song from coming out. He was in a dilemma and he really didn't know what to do.

At the next rehearsal he talked about it with the others. Thanxx was preparing some food upstairs and he really wanted to know what the others would do in his place. The majority of them decided to tell her in the weeks before the release of the Mv. It took him all the trouble not to tell her, but he did his best to hide it from her. She made the days of Ateez livelier and also made monotony disappear. She had become part of the team and was essential to Hongjoong.

"Thanxx can we talk?" Hongjoong looked firmly into her eyes and they nodded. Thanxx rose from her place between Jongho and Yunho and went into the next room with the leader. They had one more week until the new MV would be released. Only one more week with Thanxx. "Now will you tell me why you are so funny?" Thanxx asked and leaned against the wall. She buried her hands in the pockets of her pants and then looked at him expectantly. Hongjoong took a few deep breaths in and out. "Thanxx we will upload a new MV next week and release the new song" Silence. Nothing but silence struck Hongjoong after he said the words. The seconds dragged on endlessly until Thanxx began to speak, "That's good for you" She smiled. Smiled at him and he could not believe it. She would have to leave her and then she would be gone forever and she smiled about it. "Aren't you angry with me about this ?" he asked her and stroked through his hair. She shook her head and hugged him. "No, I am grateful to be with you, but it was clear that this day would come. Of course I would rather stay here, but that is not possible. Your career has to go on and if I stay here it won't work" Hongjoong put his head on hers and nodded slightly. She was right.

They returned to the others and talked for a while. For the next few days, Thanxx didn't let on and didn't let on as they sat together in the living room staring at the laptop with the new MV. Today was the day. They would have to say goodbye. "On the table in the kitchen there is a letter I brought up this morning." The boys nodded, they didn't care right now. They didn't know what it would be like if Thanxx had to leave.

"Goodbye" she said and smiled slightly as Hongjoong pressed the button to publish the next MV. As she started to dissolve slowly, Hongjoong heard a faint sob and saw Jongho spilling his eyes over the top of her head. When he looked around, he saw all the boys fighting with themselves not to cry or something. Also it was not easy for him to let the whirlwind out of their lives. The last months had been just too beautiful with her. When she was gone, Hongjoong stood up without a word and left the room. He closed the door to his and Seonghwa's room and let himself slide down the door in the dark. He slapped his hands in front of his face and cried. He had really sent her away. Had placed his group above the girl. Over a living being with feelings and a heart. What had become of him? He cried and cried until he heard a melody. It came from his cell phone and he stared at it. It was over but the melody of Thanxx came out of his smartphone. He realized that it was a quiet version of the song. Was it still with him? Did she want to comfort him? He pressed the phone to himself and sobbed again. He was already missing her.

When the boys later opened the letter they had to pull themselves together not to cry again. The letter was from Thanxx and it said:

I enjoyed the time with you very much. I'm not good at expressing myself by speaking, so I'm doing it this way. I have you dear boys and I want to thank you for the nice time with you. These would be the best months of my life and sometime we will meet again. Stay as you are

In love

THANXX

#ateez #bts #straykids #blackpink #kpop #kpopwriter #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #woooyung #jongho #THANXX #inception #art #ateezimagine #askopen

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thedistantstorm · 4 years

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Project Compass 23

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This time: Maybe Thrawn was right.

Next time: Ar’alani makes some changes.

The first time Thrawn woke, it was with a lethargic, groggy unawareness. A medic on duty at the time had explained this would happen, that until all the chemicals in his system had been neutralized and run their course, they were in for an interesting couple of days. The medic had said this between asking their patient if they knew who and where they were.

Thrawn had barely had time to sneer back at them before his eyes rolled back into his head. Apparently the medic was relieved.

"The Admiral warned us that he's not a good patient," They admitted, mildly uncomfortable. "Keep that in mind if he wakes up loopy, hmm?"

Ezra had shrugged at the time. Thrawn seemed tired, not so much out of his mind, but it hadn't been very long either. He could handle the Chiss seeing flying tookas or weird colors when it happened. Ezra held back a laugh. He couldn't help but wonder if his idea of Thrawn hallucinating would be as funny as the real thing. Maybe he should keep his holorecorder close, just in case.

Or, on second thought, when Thrawn managed to throw it - and him - across the medbay when he'd woke up next, maybe he shouldn't have. There was a wild look in his eyes, their red glow reduced to vivid crimson halos for how much his pupils were dilated. Fury rang through his posture, and it took Ezra a second to shake off the panic, trying to untangle himself from the chairs that had been tipped over with him. From the corner of his eye, he saw medical staff watching warily. Above him, standing, somehow, Thrawn had managed to rip out whatever intravenous lines had been attached to his left arm, and was holding the pole those lines had been attached to over his head like a weapon.

Thrawn only said one word, his voice menacing and laced with unrestrained hatred. "Rebel."

Belatedly, Ezra was just grateful that Un'hee had been dragged off by Vah'nya to get some much needed food and sleep. This was the last thing the very impressionable young Navigator needed to see. He considered calling on the Force, but didn't want to restrain Thrawn, unsure of his lingering injuries. He looked fine, but he was still shirtless and bandaged from under his arms all the way to the top of his hips.

That option cast aside, Ezra had to hope he was quicker than Thrawn was in this state. He certainly looked to be feeling the effects of whatever cocktail of chemicals were boarding through him. Carefully, he got his feet underneath him and bolted. Thrawn charged him, and no, the distance the Chiss had to cover was unobstructed. He'd just managed to put his back to the doorway and brought his hands up against the blow, reminding himself that Thrawn was out of his mind, and definitely didn't mean it-

"I've got him," Said a sharp, whip-crack of a voice. In Basic, Ezra realized. Her accent was definitely not Chiss, so Ezra decided she must be the woman Ar’alani had told him about. There was the sound of a blaster being drawn, then he felt it being shoved against his back. The woman leaned in as she bent his arm behind his back painfully. Whispering, she added, "Play along."

“Commander,” Thrawn acknowledged, the words coming slower than usual. Behind Ezra, there was the slightest huff, like an aborted snort of hidden amusement. “Be careful. They are never alone.” He considered a moment, setting down his makeshift weapon without concern for why, exactly it was as it was. “Take him to detention cell aurek-nine.”

“Yes,” The woman said, then paused for a second too long, thinking. This time she was a little more steady when she spoke. “Understood, Admiral Thrawn.” Ezra felt her come to attention as best she was able while pretending to restrain him. Her grip had loosened significantly on his arm. She hadn’t removed her blaster, but he didn’t dare draw attention to it. “I’ll return to brief you on what I’ve found about his associates straight away.”

“Thank you. I will contact ISB to send us an interrogator. Perhaps,” Considering whatever he was about to say, Thrawn’s brow furrowed and he frowned, stroking his jaw in confusion.

“What is it, sir?”

Ezra made a half-hearted attempt to struggle, “Nothing, Commodore.” Thrawn answered, resting back on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out what it was that didn’t add up. Ezra noticed the second title, but the woman restraining him didn’t flinch over it.

“I am going to walk you to the door,” Thrawn’s ‘Commander’ murmured, swinging him around roughly. “We are going out into the hallway.” Several members of the medical staff lingered outside the door to Thrawn’s room. None of them were moving to intercept him from potentially doing more harm. Ezra couldn’t blame them, really. “Then you are going to stay there until I tell you it’s okay.”

“You can’t do this,” Ezra balked in Basic. The medical staff stepped back, giving them a wide berth.

“Quit fighting me!” She snapped, shoving him, though hardly painfully. From behind, it looked like a good act to the Chiss watching their actions intensely.

A moment later they were outside the medbay doors. Once they were out of sight, she spun him around to face her and holstered her blaster. “Sorry about that,” She said, though her tone was more blunt than apologetically. “You alright?”

“Yeah. He’s clearly out of his mind,” Ezra said, brushing himself off. “No harm done.” He looked up, surprisingly, into the stoic face of a woman at least five years older than Captain Ivant, by the look of her. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a CDF uniform much like his own.

“I’d say,” The woman said. Her eyes were as sharp as her tone. “I’m surprised you weren’t levitating him back to bed and pinning him there, Jedi.”

“I didn’t want to stress him out,” Ezra admitted sheepishly. “He’s had a rough couple of days.”

“Seems fair,” She supposed, then considered him. “I’ll keep an eye out for him until he stops thinking you’re his mortal enemy. You’re lucky he didn’t think he was on the command bridge, and his people were in danger.”

“Yeah,” He agreed. “You’re the one Admiral Ar’alani sent for, aren’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yes,” She said. “I’ve seen your face many times during my years of service to the Empire, but I don’t believe we ever met face-to-face.” Her gaze was steely, serious and no-nonsense, but hardly malicious. “Karyn Faro,” She said. “I was Thrawn’s second aboard the Chimaera.”

“You were? But I never saw you among the-”

“No. I missed the Seventh’s,” She paused briefly, trying to find the right word without cursing the barely grown man in front of her, “Adventures by a very narrow margin.” A loud slam echoed from within the medbay, followed by rapid-fire communication in rapidly escalating voices. “If you’ll excuse me, I think that’s my cue. This shouldn’t take long.”

True to her word, it didn’t. One of the medical staff retrieved him within minutes, meanwhile Faro had taken to the chair Un’hee had used hours before on Thrawn’s right, near his head. She sat seemingly at ease, but everything about her felt alert and aware. On guard.

The Chiss medic said something to her in a language Ezra didn’t understand.

In response, the human woman slid her gaze toward Ezra then back to the medic before responding in solid, but moderately accentuated Cheunh. “I understand Cheunh, medic,” She looked away from Ezra. “But you’re welcome for the help. Thanks for helping me get him back in on the cot. He was heavier than I anticipated.”

“You knocked him out?” Ezra asked, surprised. “Really?”

Frowning, she considered her words carefully before speaking. Ezra got the feeling this was Faro’s way of extending an olive branch. Almost amused, she said, “Well, it’s certainly not the first time I’ve thought about giving him a sedative. He doesn’t know when to stop.”

Ezra laughed, and the medic smirked to themself as they set the rest of the medications and intravenous lines on the patient back to rights. “Thanks,” He said. “Uh- Commodore?”

“Just Faro is fine,” She said, switching back to Basic. “My rank is a little, well, let’s call it up in the air for a moment. I’ve been helping the Admiral out since things went to hell on Lothal.”

“Huh. You didn’t defect to the Rebellion,” He said.

“I did not, but if it helps, you could consider me a rebel of a different sort.”

Csilla was a beautiful planet. Ethereal, stunning to take in from above. It was the pale, deep blue that one could only associate with a deep freeze, an eternal winter. He looked out the viewport on the bridge, beside the navigator’s console. It was vacant, like the rest of the bridge. More than ten kilometers away was the Compass, the ship that had been his responsibility for two years now sitting like an ominous reminder of his shortcomings. Vah’nya had doubted they would go back to it now. Not with things like this.

She had come a long way in understanding strategy. And with a blunder like this - at least, a perceived one, at least, politically - it only made sense to tighten the reins, to pull all the pawns back to protect the queen. Not that it was either of their decisions. The fate of everything rested with Admiral Ar’alani’s pull amongst the Aristocra and the Admiralty.

Ivant knew when he’d made the decision to strive for command - first, under Thrawn, and then, here, with Admiral Ar’alani aboard the Steadfast - that it would not all be glamorous or honorable. He’d seen what his superiors had had to do, had seen the light they’d cast upon themselves, both favorable and unfavorable. He’d seen successes painted as failures, and failures washed away with promotions and medals. He’d spent most of their time traveling back to Csilla wondering which one this was. It felt like equal parts success and failure, skewed depending upon the angle by which the events were viewed.

As if capable of reading his thoughts, Admiral Ar’alani spoke from behind him along the same thread. “If I recommend you, will you deny me before the council of families?” Ar’alani said. “Tell me now, before I make a fool of myself in the capital.”

“Do you think they’ll let you? You’ve said yourself that they would call for demotion and possibly a firing squad.”

She hummed, a dissonant, displeased sound that was muffled behind her lips. “I believe pride will win out in this case. You have saved them from a great, potentially public blunder. They will be displeased at the loss of Chiss life at the hands of a human, but they will begrudgingly agree with your judgement. To argue otherwise would make them look like imbeciles, especially if someone were to leak such information to the people.” Her gaze at that was not insignificant.

“Right,” Ivant turned away from the viewport and back to Ar’alani. It always boiled down to politics and red tape. “No offense, ma’am, but you’re sure that a family influenced by the Grysks isn’t on the council? I can’t help but think we’re painting a target on our backs.”

“There is only one way to find out,” She said, tilting her head. “I have a plan with multiple contingencies, Eli’van’to. Do you trust me?”

Where in the past there had been hesitation, here she heard none. Her captain was sincere. “With my life, Admiral.”

A smile might have crossed her face, but it was lightning quick, there and gone before he ever realized he’d seen it. “Then let us go to the capital and face your reckoning.” When his stance shifted to attention, a smirk twisted her mouth, indicative of the cunning woman the Admiral was and the grim pleasure she took in these political games. "Our shuttle awaits."

Despite Ezra’s hope for lighthearted blackmail (something he felt he was entitled to considering Thrawn’s near-assault on him), Thrawn had not had any embarrassing drugged-up, hallucination-ridden moments, only brief periods of waking confusion and almost slurred speech. Faro had lingered for a long while beside Thrawn, until Un'hee had returned and she had wordlessly given up her seat for a lonely chair near the door.

They'd resigned themselves to shifts, one human present at his bedside at all hours. There was hardly a chance that someone would dare harm Thrawn aboard Ar'alani's ship (he hoped), but Faro was diligent. Ezra reluctantly heeded her words, preferring to play it safe. In their couple hours of overlap, conversation between them was stilted, indicative of their status as newly former enemies.

All of it was easier if Un'hee was present, which she was, more often than not. Like Ezra and Vah'nya, who had also been pulled from the Compass, she had also been removed from active duty for the time being, and, following questioning, left to her own devices. The emotional intensity of her concern was palpable through the Force. It was a bright, tender, and vivid concern, like threads between them pulled taut. Un'hee cared for Thrawn, very much. Ezra didn't blame her.

He could admit that he cared about Thrawn, too. Not in the way he cared for his family - this bond was friendship, and it was very different, though not lesser because of it - but he was concerned all the same. Concerned enough to sit with Thrawn overnight, until Faro showed up with some burned caf from the refectory and a tight, defensive smile to relieve him in the morning.

Ezra's concern did make it hard to sleep when he wasn't on unofficial guard duty, however. It was inevitable that his eyelids grew heavy. He realized eventually that it was impossible not to sleep, so instead he willed himself to keep one eye metaphorically open, drawing the Force around himself and Thrawn, and by extension, Un'hee, forcing himself to remain awash in those connections as he dozed lightly. The medbay was completely silent. Surely the sound of anyone or anything would wake him.

Which it did at some point. He heard the sound of footsteps, the unfurling of a blanket. Opening his eyes only the tiniest bit, Ezra made out brown hair and a black officer's uniform.

"Eli?" Un'hee asked for him, groaning with the effort of waking.

"It's late," He said to her. It was unmistakably Ivant. He seemed to tuck the blanket he'd brought around the girl, whispering, "Go back to sleep."

The Navigator didn't argue, asleep again almost instantly. He heard the almost silent rearranging of chairs as the captain pulled the one Faro usually occupied up beside Un'hee's. All the while, Ezra couldn't help but feel wide awake. What was Ivant doing here?

Reaching out with the Force on this was easy. Compared to a Chiss, reading a human's surface level emotions wasn't remotely difficult. Vanto was throwing guilt and worry, his presence stormy, clouded. It was almost that same lonely melancholy that Ezra had been associating with Thrawn for some time now. It felt thicker, more potent now, almost like a dam had broken on his emotions.

In the narrow bed, Thrawn shifted. His breathing changed, the slightest hitch to it, instead of measured and even.

"This doesn’t look like the Thunder Wasp's med-center," Thrawn slurred in Basic. He'd only muttered in Cheunh once or twice since this whole thing started.

"It's not," Ivant said in the same language, explaining,"You've been hallucinating. You have a whole lotta drugs in your system."

"Nightswan?"

At that, the human laughed. It was almost affectionate. "No, Thrawn. He's been dead for years.

There was silence for a while, then, "I'm not in the Empire, am I?" He paused. "I seem to remember-" He said a word in a language Ezra didn't understand. Ezra could practically hear the gears grinding in his head.

"The, uh, purgill were real, but unimportant right now. You left the Empire. You're home."

"Then why are you-" There was the unmistakable sound of movement, and the answering shuffle as Captain Ivant reacted accordingly. Unfortunately the answer to keeping Thrawn from potentially harming when he woke disoriented and confrontational was more medication. Which meant that if he tried to get up, he would likely fall promptly on his face.

And that seemed to be the direction in which things were trying to happen. "Whoa, whoa, don't get up."

A short scuffle, then a soft thud later, Thrawn said, "You are stronger than I remember," Voice unmistakably awed.

Ivant didn’t bask in it. "That was leverage, not strength. Besides, you're higher than a spicehead right now, so don't take that opinion to heart."

"What caused this?"

Ezra suspected they were sitting with their backs to him now and risked another peek. Sure enough, Thrawn and Ivant sat side by side on the bed, shoulders touching.

"Poison. You had a reaction to it."

"There was an antidote?"

Ivant drawled, "’still has to run its course."

Thrawn’s frown was almost audible, his voice nearly hesitant as he reasoned, "You are a hallucination as well, I gather. I would have remembered sending you to the Asc- to my people," He recovered. “Despite my current predicament.”

“You don't remember beating Nightswan at his own game, and we chased that smug bastard across the galaxy for years." Ezra was surprised he hadn’t switched back to Cheunh to prove himself.

"Somehow I doubt that defeating Nightswan would be considered a victory."

"Certainly never felt like it." Ivant relented. "I think it was what drove you to send me to Ar'alani, though."

"We're with her?"

"This is her commandship."

"Interesting. So you’re saying the Navigator isn't a hallucination, either." Ezra suspected there was a gesture.

"No. This is Un’hee,” There was a pause, likely as the girl shifted in her sleep, at the sound of her name. “You helped rescue her from the Grysks almost three years ago now."

At the mention of their enemies, there was more shuffling. Ezra watched through the smallest slits as Thrawn curled forward to cradle his head in his hands, trying to think. The drugs running rampant in his system made it nearly impossible to make connections, Ezra imagined.

"There is something-" Whatever else he said trailed off, too garbled for Ezra to even consider untangling.

"Easy. It's alright. You'll feel more like yourself once you've slept it off, Thrawn, I promise." Eli rose, so Ezra let his eyes fall completely closed, willing himself still as he continued to listen carefully.

Ivant must have maneuvered him to lay prone, because there was the sound of blankets and weight shifting before Thrawn seemed to address the room in general. "You have not referred to me by title for the entirety of this conversation," He commented. He sounded tired, but curious despite it all. "Why?" He asked around a yawn.

"I outrank you," Ivant said. "I have since you got back."

"I am your responsibility," Thrawn mused. Ezra heard the trust in his voice, the utter lack of doubt. If nothing else, the emotion Thrawn gave to his words were less concealed thanks to his current condition. Ezra wasn't sure that was a good thing. He didn't want Ivant further damaging Thrawn's arguably fragile emotional state. Would Thrawn want Eli Vanto there if he were of sound mind?

The answer was immediate. "Always."

Ezra could feel the way Thrawn’s chaotic aura eased at that. "Then I am sure it will be fine."

The room went quiet, the sound of Thrawn and Un'hee's deep breaths in sleep the only ones to reach Ezra's ears.

He'd almost fallen back to sleep when he heard something else. A whisper. "Sometimes I still don't know what the hell you saw in me." It was Vanto. Ezra didn't dare move.

On a very long delay, came an answer. "Something others did not," Thrawn said, sleep-rough. His voice turned dark. "Incompetent fools. You were always-"

"Sleep, Thrawn." Ivant breathed, command tone hushed but present. "I doubt you're going to remember this, and that's not how I want to have this conversation with you."

Thrawn scoffed, seeing through him. Ezra doubted his eyes were even open. Thrawn was good at that sort of thing. "I was upset with you. Before this."

"You are upset with me," Vanto corrected. "Being out of your mind doesn't change anything. I deserve it."

Out of nowhere the Chiss said, "You are obviously being censured." The slightest irritation was noticeable in his voice. "Surely I would have picked up on that?"

"Sleep," Eli pressed. Still, Thrawn must have been looking at him, because he added, far quieter, "I'm not answering you."

"I-"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter right now."

"That could not be farther from the truth. I have never desired," Thrawn slowed, voice fading with each word, "For us to be-" He broke off into deep, easy breaths, too deep to be anything but the precursor to the faintest snore.

Ezra couldn't help but hazzard a peek at the situation when Eli stood a while later. He watched the human pull the blankets properly around Thrawn, who had turned onto his side to face the silent Captain. Then, Vanto leaned down and said something too quietly for Ezra to hear into Thrawn's ear, his hand carefully smoothing the blanket over his shoulder. Thrawn hadn't moved, or even reacted, exactly, but Ezra felt some of that weight Thrawn had been carrying fall away. The strange aura around him, the one that screamed displeasure, discomfort, and wary tension seemed to relax significantly.

Of course Ivant would comfort him. He wasn't a bad guy, exactly, but he had no idea what-

Or, Ezra realized, catching a glimpse of Ivant’s red-rimmed brown eyes and the sad but still so relieved smile on his face, maybe he did know. Maybe Thrawn was onto something about Ivant being censured, but Thrawn hadn't picked up on it until now because his own feelings were in the way. Maybe Ivant really did understand what Thrawn felt for him. Ezra sunk into meditation as easily as he had fallen asleep, content to think on it. Not, he realized afterward, that he ever really needed to.

Captain Ivant sat with him for the rest of the night, leaving just as Ezra feigned wakefulness. He didn't hold Thrawn's hand or even touch him. But he was there, his presence an unspoken comfort, freely given. Ezra got the feeling that this gesture, to Thrawn, just might mean everything.

Thrawn hadn't been wrong about Eli Vanto.

#thranto #eli vanto #mitth'raw'nuruodo #un'hee #ezra bridger #ar'alani #eli vanto/thrawn #sw fanfiction #my writing #here have 3k+ words of slow burn about to catch fire

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beyondtheglasswall · 4 years

Text

~~~

I’m not sure when I started walking. I just know I am.

Where am I going? Somewhere. I know where I’m going, but I don’t.

What am I doing? I know what I’m doing, but I don’t.

I just keep walking. I keep walking.

Around me, I can see machinery. All kinds of machinery. I’m not sure what it all is for a moment.

The Soreil. I recognize these hallways. This is the Soreil.

... What am I doing on the Soreil? My mind doesn’t sit on that thought for long. I’m still walking.

Before I realize it, I’m somewhere else. A city of technology--Felion. Then I’m somewhere else again. A city of ancient principles and culture--Tenryosara. I walk through the Sharl villages. I walk through the living areas for the people. I just keep walking, walking, walking--my conscious mind stops taking in my surroundings as I go.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I stop walking. I start processing where I’m standing again. Maybe it’d have been better if I didn’t, because as soon as I do, I know I don’t want to be here.

I’m standing on a metal walkway. Below me is a sea--the Flask Sea. It looks like water, but it isn’t. I know it isn’t. I can fully recall what it is.

I know I shouldn’t. I know how horrifying the sight is, but I end up looking into the water anyways. There are things in the water. Sacks, floating in the water. Suspended by a cable so they won’t float to the surface. The sacks look about the size of a person, and that’s because they are. My gaze goes beyond the sack, and I can see what’s inside one. A person--I don’t know them. I never did.

I knew they won’t drown in this sea; rather, they can’t. It wasn’t designed for that. This ‘water’ is a solvent. A solvent for the human soul. The longer a person’s in it, the more their soul slowly deteriorates. And from it...

Something breaks past the water’s surface. I see it clearly--a Sharl. A newborn Sharl. Born from a human submerged in this solvent. I see it flutter off, like an infant wandering around for the first time. How many had this produced by now? How many more would they produce until they died?

All of that, underneath the water. If any of them awoke during it, for even a minute, what would they feel? Like they were drowning? Like someone was holding them under, until they couldn’t breathe? They’d feel like they were dying, but wouldn’t be allowed to.

... I feel sick. I don’t want to be here. I turn, and begin walking again.

“Where are you going?”

I stop. That voice... A part of me tells myself to not turn around. I turn around.

I see a head of brown hair, with piercing eyes of the same color. In his usual attire, he stands tall, looking like a hero confronting a great evil. His deep, searing glare burns at me.

“Can’t stand looking at your own work?” I remember hearing that hatred from him. I almost can’t look at him. “Do you think you can walk away just because you have a guilty conscience?”

‘It’s not like that.’ I say, but my tone doesn’t match my words.

“It is.” He starts walking towards me, fists clenched. “They didn’t get a choice--you think you should?”

I involuntarily take a step back. ‘Delta, please.’ Listen to me. What happened at Felion, I didn’t know. It was out of my control. And when I realized, I did what I could to save them. We saved so many people--

“And what about the people you didn’t?”

My blood freezes. Out of the corner of my eye, I feel like there are more sacks in the water than before.

‘I can’t save everyone. It’s not fair for me to expect myself to--’

He comes to a stop, his foot stomping against the metal walkway. I hear the sound echo across the space around us. A few of the sacks bob idly, like balloons that had just been hit by a breeze.

“Don’t make excuses!” He’s shouting now. It feels louder than it is. My chest starts hurting. “You had me open the gate! I don’t care why or how, you did it! And as for that ‘we’ stuff...”

I’m not sure when I realized I had it. I don’t think it was there to begin with. Something’s in my pocket now. I reach into it, pulling out something.

“That ‘terminal’ there. You used that to control me. There was no ‘we’ in any of this.”

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing then, but none of that matters now.’

“Like hell it doesn’t! You had to have known before we did! And you still kept going! Why?!”

‘It’s not that simple! We needed to do that! We needed to use Interdimend, or else--’

“Stop with the ‘we’! YOU didn’t need to do anything!!”

‘I DID!! If I hadn’t, everyone on the Soreil would have died! Cass, Nay, Kanon--they’d all have died! Everyone!’

“Stop pretending you did any of it for them!! You know exactly who you did it for!”

‘That isn’t--’

“You sacrificed hundreds of thousands of people! Innocent people! Men, women, children--and for what? For some girl who didn’t even know you?!”

‘We’d known each other for two years, you can’t just--’

“YOU knew HER! And you got it in your head you could help her, so you jumped in! It didn’t matter what risk there was--you just did it! And people paid the price, so that you could be the big hero--!!”

STOP CALLING ME THAT!!

Delta stumbles backwards, looking like he’d just been shocked. I didn’t realize I’d actually shouted. I realize the sea below is rippling, just from my voice alone. But Delta stands his ground. His teeth are gritted.

“You know it, don’t you. You can’t stand being called that. Because you know you aren’t one.” He starts walking towards me again. I didn’t see when he pulled them out, but now he’s holding the energy tonfas Sarly made. “You know exactly what you are.”

‘Delta. Please, stop. I don’t want to do this.’

Earthes isn’t here. I can’t beat Delta in a fight. That should be the reason I’m backing away, but--

“You’re the same as them!”

He’s running at me now. The tonfas converge together, forming a blade. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me for everything.

‘I’m--’

Before I realize it, my hand’s instinctively raised. The terminal in my hands is on. And Delta freezes.

A puppet’s marionette strings are being pulled. It tugs against them, struggling to get loose and turn against the master holding them.

“I’ll never... give... up...!!”

You said that last time. I remember.

The puppet keeps pulling. The strings can only give so much. The master can only let so much go before the puppet reaches him.

“Agh... gah...!!”

Please.

“Gagh...!!!”

Just give up already.

“Ggh... AAAAGH!!!!”

I hear the strings snap.

Something hits the floor. It’s Delta, but it isn’t. It looks like him, but it isn’t anymore.

It’s just a body. A puppet that cut its own strings.

I stand there, looking down at it. I only just realize I’m shaking. I feel sick. I shouldn’t be able to stand, but my body isn’t letting me fall to my knees.

It’s wrong. I’m nothing like them. Nothing like her.

“But you are. Aren’t you?”

I don’t need to turn to recognize that voice coming from behind me. My body turns anyways. My eyes perceive her anyways.”

“Taking over someone’s body for your own reasons?” My eyes can’t reconcile the image. Her appearance seems to shift, going between someone who looks like Nelo and someone who looks like Prim. But I know it’s Arytha. “That sounds pretty much like what I did.”

‘It wasn’t! You came to this world to hurt people! I came to help them!’

“No, you came to help ‘Ion’, just like how I came to save my sister. And we both ended up hurting people, didn’t we?”

I say something, but words don’t come out.

“Oh ,just give it a rest already. It isn’t just me who deserves punishment after all.”

I keep trying to talk, but there’s no sound. Suddenly, I realize there are ‘things’ flying all around me--

Sharl.

“A few years in the Flask Sea sounds fair, huh?”

I’m being grabbed from all sides. I struggle, trying to break free. I can feel myself being lifted off the ground. I’m panicking. I call out for help, but no one comes to help me. Arytha says something else, but I can’t hear it. I can’t even make out what’s around me at this point. I’m just being carried away.

And then, I’m dropped. My body lands in ‘water’, and I go under.

Panic fills every part of my body. This is it. This is how I’m going to die.

I struggle, my instincts taking over. I flail my arms, trying to get above water, but I can’t. I feel like I’m being pulled under. Something starts wrapping around my legs. My lungs are burning. My arms keep flailing until something grabs them too. Something starts wrapping around me. I can’t keep holding my breath.

I’m not sure why, but I my eyes start processing what’s around me.

These other people in the sacks. I see Cass. Sarly. Shirotaka. Nay. Kanon.

I see everyone I knew on the Soreil.

... I see Rin. I see everyone else I failed to save.

Something covers my face. And as it does...

I lose my breath.

... ... ...

But I don’t drown. I just sit in the dark.

I feel like I’m dying. But I can’t die.

I just sit in this hell.

... Help.

Someone, please help me.

Someone, please!!

Please, help m--

---------

It was probably the longest gasp of breath he’d ever taken. He sat there, coughing for a few minutes in the silence around him. His mind wasn’t processing what was going on around him. He just needed air. There wasn’t anything in him except some spit, but he hacked liked he’d just been pulled out from the water.

“Dream... dream, dream... dream...”

He said it, as though he were trying to convince himself. His breathing began to settle, but not by much.

He sat there for a few seconds, only listening to the ambient noise around him. He was by himself.

Maybe it was because he was by himself that he felt something begin to run down his face. Something wet. Coming from his eyes.

Once he’d realized it, he couldn’t stop it.

Takuya could only try and fail to hold it back as he began to cry to himself.

He wasn’t going to be falling back asleep anytime soon.

#;thoughts of the observer [drabble]#tw drowning #tw suffocation #tw death #tw death mention #[this was either going to be a drabble or a headcanon]#[this ended up spawning from my brain]#[whoops how did this get so damn long-]#[this has some Stuff in it so be mindful before you read]#[don't want to genuinely trigger anyone ;w;]

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neargaztambide · 4 years

Text

Stan and Ford Pines: A Melancholic Story (Chapter 2)

Prologue, Chapter One

Words: 3.549 approximately:

2: Happy Birthday!

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It is a beautiful day. Outside the birds sang. The sun illuminated everything it touched. It was a perfect day, with a nice breeze, an ideal climate. Little by little, one of the brothers opened his eyes, finally being able to enjoy the benefits of the morning.

Stanford pulls the covers aside as he feels the warmth of the sun settle on his eyes. Stan is still sleeping. The boy gets up and looks at the beautiful clear blue sky, with hardly any clouds in the afterlife, with the people of the district strolling, going to work or taking advantage of the first hours to go shopping. “Wow. Stanley, wake up: you should see ...” He stopped talking. Ford erased his smile. Out of the corner of his eye he began to perceive that in microseconds the sky turned gray, dark clouds making shadows in his room. Laughter, teasing approached his head. Stanley was white as a sheet, his chest full of blood. His corpse was completely violated, as if a true beast had devoured him without contemplation. He was going to scream: Ford was going to scream, he already had it about to do it...

“... Ford, c'mon, wake up. Guess what day is today.” Stanford quickly opened his eyes. He felt cold for a few moments, like he was still in that nightmare. Stanley was alive. It was just a bad dream. "Wake up, Sixer, today’s our birthday!" Saying this, Stan punches his brother in the face with a pillow. Without opening his eyes, Ford searches for his glasses on the nightstand. Upon finding them, they are quickly put on. “You know what your gift is, don't you?” Stan asks in a mischievous tone. Ford leans against the head of the bed. He didn't ask his brother for anything; would it be a joke or something? He remembers absolutely nothing, not even the slightest hint that he wanted something on specific.

Stanley sits on the edge of the bed, putting his hand on Stanford's hair and ruffling it to finish waking up him. Ford is finally ready to listen to Stan, who looked certainly happy. He was looking expectantly at Stanford's possible reaction. He bent down and rummaged under the bed, placing a red paper-wrapped gift in Stanford's hands. –Yup, there is no reason to thank me. Enjoy it. - Ford smiled. The mere consideration made the gift something perfect. He didn't know what to say. He was stunned. -Hey! What are you waiting for?: open it! - Stan shakes Ford's shoulder a little to cheer him up. Ford breaks the paper with force, leaving the paper that was taking out stacked. The result was to bare a case, which when opened revealed a necklace that Stanford took. It was an owl, of tyto breed. He spread his wings like he was going to take flight. It was highly detailed on the head up part. The body disintegrated into a metal vine that firmly held a small capsule of non-translucent plastic. He even had his little legs made down to the last detail. “A few months ago I saw that you were really interested in this when we were passin' by Crab Avenue.” And I thought it would be a good gift.” Stan approaches the curtain to close it.

Suddenly, the owl's body began to flash a soft green light. Shining and accompanying the little darkness that was thanks to the curtain. It was peaceful and calming to see the light illuminate the room. It was as if something was accompanying them. It was weird, but it's as if someone was watching them closely. They couldn't feel it, but a strange presence was with them, watching. The light in seconds went out. “Wait, are you kidding me?” The effect of the necklace stopped working. Little by little it flickered and the light faded. Stan grabbed Ford's necklace, and tapped it a few times to try to activate it again. It didn't work. “Oh, hell. Sorry, Pointdexter: it's just a trinket.” Ford didn't care. Anyway, he liked the gift. He smiled and said: “It doesn't matter, Stanley. I will repair it. I'll find out how. Oh, right- Stanford got up and went behind the nightstand. He gave Stan his gift. The package was slightly larger than Stan's (it was decorated with blue paper). Stan ripped the paper, leaving a photo frame on his legs. It was flipped. "Um… thanks?" The little Ford did was sneak roll his eyes while smiling. He couldn't believe that his brother was unintuitive. Stan finally turned the frame over, only to stop smiling at the photo.

It was Filbrick. He had two lumps in his arms (it looked like his brother and he when they were babies), smiling. Smiling like never before. Smiling at the camera. The blue frame was full of beautiful decorations. For example, some colored crystals stuck in some corners. In another was a pretty seashell. “Stan... do you like it?” Ford asked with a certain tone of regret when he noticed that Stan only stared at the frame without an apparent smile. But, Stan only lunged at him to give him a big hug. “I-it's the best gift you could have ever given me ...” Ford sighed inwardly, and welcomed the hug. “-I'm glad you liked.” Stanford thought. The two separated. “Are you crying?” Stanford asks quickly, to which Stanley raised a fist to his eyes and began to wipe away: “No: asbestos entered my eyes.”

The brothers left their room feeling hungry and after thanking each other. They were in the living room: nice and comfortable. It is years old, with soft yellow wallpaper. Her television was on top of a library (filled with various things: horror books, science fiction in the right dose, comics painstakingly collected by Stanley, and music. Lots of music). In the kitchen was Caryn, who was busy cooking something. They both go to the dining room, and wait for their mother. She is wearing a football shirt, with the number 04 on the back. In addition to pants of different scales of blue. “Well, who's having a birthday today?” Her mother finally looks up to say good morning. Stan thinks: his mother has slightly reddish eyes. Maybe she fell asleep with tears still on her face. Why haven't she told them how she was feeling, or at least to someone else? She must have been the most emotionally charged to deal with. He felt very sorry for his mother. Is she trying to pretend that she is supporting herself for them?

“So, what’s the breakfast?” Asked Stan when it comes out of his musings when they were starting to bother. Her mother tells her that they are going to eat waffles (which they ended quite quickly). Stanford was engrossed in seeing his new possession. “Ford, where did you get that necklace?” Asked Caryn when noticing his son. He said that it was Stanley’s gift. Their mother looked at her children: they always take care of each other, no matter what. It is a relationship of real mutual affection. Stan's light went on and he went back to his room. “–Where is that dwarf going? -” Caryn wondered mentally when the boy left and returned a few minutes later. He gave her Ford's gift. His mother had almost the same reaction as Stan when opening the gift: she was left for a few moments with absolutely nothing to say, and then moved. “Ma...” Stan said suddenly, who looked at his mother, who was already starting to have watery eyes. “Look, boys: I'm going to go get some things for the cake” Caryn says to her children to explain what they could do. “. And so that you don't get bored when you're locked up, why don't you go to the beach? Let's see if you get some color, pair of vampires.” Caryn makes a graceful movement to grab the nose of Ford, who smiles at the little joke. “Do it, or I’ll make you carry all the bags.” After a while, the twins walked out the front door. Stanford stood for a few seconds at the door before following Stan. He turned to see his mother. “Ma...” “What's the matter, honey?” “Are you okay?” Caryn was silent for a few seconds. Her smiling didn’t change. Caryn replied, after shaking her head almost imperceptibly to react: “Of course I am, Mousy. See both sides before crossing the streets, fine?” With this, Ford gives him a bigger smile, and finally, he leaves.

Caryn is undaunted. Sharpen her ear to know if her children finally left home. She finally hears the twins when they close the door. Caryn erases her smile, ceasing finally. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to pretend, but she should. Caryn did not want to worry his children. She ... she honestly tried to be good, to try to be fine for them. But acting like a happy mother was tearing her apart. I really needed to tell them that she ... Caryn sighed. She took a deep breath before getting up. She needed an escape. Caryn went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of wine. A cup, and then she returned to the table. Caryn poured herself a good squirt, and took a sip. For a few moments, she saw her husband's photo. She just couldn't stop thinking about Fil. It was catching her. She wanted to continue: she couldn't stand it anymore because it was too painful for her to remember the facts. But it was constant comings and goings that her own memory used to torment her with the fact: “-Filbrick is dead, and now you are alone.-” With certain bitterness, the widow remembers how her story with her Fil, with her man began. And it was, at Glass Shard beach.

It seemed like a déjà vu: one of the most important places for Caryn was the beach. From that day on, that place took on a kind of magical importance after she saw him, and that same interest for the beach was conveyed to her children in the same way. Caryn took a drink to accompany herself to confront her memories a little better. It was exactly the day she left work. Caryn resigned from The Drunk Clam. Caryn barely received less than acceptable pay for her services -other than that the bar was a dump that preached a bad death.- She walked near the edge, barefoot. She could feel the salty waters of his feet. Caryn was stunned, thinking of one thing: “-now what?-” She walked and walked, until she collided. She hadn't realized it. Caryn immediately demanded: “Hey, don't you see where…” Caryn couldn't finish her complaint when she saw Filbrick: he was there, looking at her. May a lot of people don’t believe that love at first sight exists: it seems to them an invention worthy of tales like Cinderella , Snow White , or any story that wasn’t written by Carlo Collodi. Although, Caryn didn’t care at all that millions thought about the subject: she believed from that moment that this type of affectionateness existed.

After that day, Caryn was only dreamed of by that man: he looked perfect. His body, his broad shoulders, his well-tanned features , all of him incredible for Caryn's taste. For a week, with what can be described as a kind of not-so-healthy obsession, she searched as best she could for the number of that stranger, or at least something that could get her to see him again. She was able to hear from him little by little: he was working in a construction as just another little helper. Caryn more or less knew where to locate him, and when she saw him, Caryn asked if he could make a date with her. To his surprise, Filbrick accepted. They confirmed the day and hour, and separated at the crossroads. When she was alone, the woman jumped for joy: she did it, dammit: she did it. It should be clarified that Filbrick only accepted for one reason; which was that for one day he wanted to escape his tedious routine. He admitted that Caryn was pretty, although the date could help clear his mind. But hey: that, or having to carry concrete bags to the mixer with hot sun stalking. The expected date night came, and they both went to a karaoke bar. Before that, they went to dinner. Caryn was damn nervous: it was her first time on a date since high school, and she didn't want to screw up. Filbrick concealed his boredom as best he could. Between accepting the date, or having an arduous workday, he preferred the latter.

By the time they reached to the bar, the two of them went to a room so they could be alone (Fil, despite being on the point of falling asleep from the bluntness, he had enough chivalry to invite drinks from his own pocket ). Caryn approached the screen. Filbrick looked completely neutral, but to himself he said: “-I'm sure this girl is one of those people who think they sing amazing, but they are a complete junk.-“ “Have any preference?" Caryn asked , and turned around. Filbrick replied quickly: “Whatevah you want.” Caryn felt overwhelmed: she felt Fil's discontent. She quickly searched for a song she might know. And she did find it: Maybe , by Janis Joplin. The woman's eyes flashed upon finding her. She selected it, and began to listen to the beginning of the song.

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It all started with that hippie rhythm, the typical rhythm of the late sixties. Trumpets were quickly introduced after strumming a guitar. There, the song became much faster. Filbrick prepares for disaster, seeing Caryn imitate Janis in her smooth, wave-like movements. But, inevitably, Caryn opened her mouth to barf the words: “Maybe ... Oh, if I could pray, and I try, dear, you might come back home, home to me.” Filbrick opened his eyes. His surprise was huge when he saw Caryn sing, but not regular , but incredible. Her voice wouldn’t be the most appropriate for the blues genre, but she was setting the nail in every way: Caryn was feeling it, understanding what each word meant, and taught it with her voice and movements. “Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, dear, I guess I might have done something wrong, Honey, I'd be glad to admit it! Ooh, come on home to me! Honey, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe yeah!” For God’s sake: she seemed wild, rude, and strong, she had an almost unreal authenticity. She contorted with almost every part of his body: neither arms nor feet were indifferent to the emotion . She looked like a reincarnation of Pearl. Caryn just let go. It looked like a lioness.

Caryn flew to the following verse: “Please, please, please, please, oh won't you reconsider, babe, now come on, I said come back, won't you come back to me!” And there, in the final part of the penultimate strophe, the presence of the Texan girl known as Janis Joplin in Caryn Pines was felt for a few seconds: that same essence, the same characterization was in her for a while. “Maybe, dear, oh maybe, maybe, maybe, lemme help you: show me how. Honey maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe, yeah! Ooh!” The song decreased. It went out, but the spark was still felt in the twist movements of the feet as it turned slowly off. Caryn just felt weightless at the time. She had done the best she could. Caryn stopped playing the dead character, to turn to see her date. Which was applauding her. They were not ironic applause: they were authentic. They both left after a while, and walked next to him. “Wow: you have talent.” Caryn muttered a somewhat shameless "thanks". Filbrick was looking across the street . "So… did you have fun?" Caryn asked. Well, it was the moment of truth. “Well, yeah, of course. It was fun… it wasn’t” Caryn stopped. She thoughts he had ruined it. “: I must admit that I was ... bored.” Caryn's soul fell to her feet, and she began to apologize. Fil interrupted her.

“It wasn’t fair to you: I noticed that you tried your best. I'm sorry that I didn't recognize that. ” Caryn was speechless. So: was it a disaster or not? Caryn was confused as she needed time to swallow those words. Now that Filbrick think about it, he partially enjoyed the date. “But... how do you know how to sing so swell?” Filbrick asks. Maybe he was trying to remedy his pedantic attitude. Caryn replied that she had taken singing lessons as a child, and the talent was completely natural to her. Filbrick listened. Throughout the date, he had not paid as much attention to his companion until that moment. "And ... do you see hope on this?" Asked Filbrick; without wanting interrupting Caryn. And like a lightning, Filbrick was embarrassed by that question. Caryn, however, didn't mind at all. That phrase had a very special meaning, a special intonation. The reason for that question was to introduce them to a moment full of palpitations and excited hormones. “W-what do you mean?” The woman asks stupidly, since her feelings make her completely drunk with confusion. "I mean" Filbrick had started to blush. His ears flushed with his cheeks. “, you are ... pretty, you have talent, and...” Between each word Fil was blushing at every step, and Caryn laughed at the nerves, the emotion ... the feeling of ridiculousness, discomfort -and to be frank- the kitsch of silence that was presented. This is love, this is how it works: it is as unpredictable as the victory of a paraplegic over a professional runner in the hundred-meter-flat . “Well, this is getting awkward...” Caryn joked poorly. Filbrick agreed with her on that point, shaking his head quickly. “Yes it is.” “You asked if this was going to ... work. Why are you sure about it?” Caryn muttered, nervous. Her heart was going to be catapulted out of her chest in a daze. She tried to chill, without success, as Filbrick tried the same. He thought for a few seconds. If it would work, effectively? They barely even had a date, but they could both have some chemistry together. “We… could make it work it out.” He dropped it like a bomb: that melted the woman's heart, and her eyes lit up. There was a simple moment, when they just they drowned in each other's eyes. Some showed true love. Others showed a certain spark that gradually became a powerful flame. It was a silent moment of tension, not of discomfort. The silent between them were so fragile, that it could be cut it by a knife. Filbrick see her. Filled with something.

And it was Filbrick who took the first step. The date perfectly could have been a complete fiasco. It could all have been a terrible mistake, where Caryn could have been smashed. By pure luck he rectified. Caryn's voice and Filbrick's reflection caused them to be given an opportunity. There could have been an awkward silence in the car because of the failed date: so much that it would have been worthy of comedy for misfortune. But, Filbrick made the first step with Caryn. How?: he kissed her. It was a delicate, nervous, fragile kiss. But Caryn liked it: that kiss was full of poesy, full of no enough words to describe love, the great passion. And Filbrick, ridiculously started to blush one more time. His kiss was an action driven by desire, by the pure feeling of a blossoming romance. But, who cared about it?: they were happy. Filbrick noticed it: he loves Caryn as a singer loves the music. She felt like the most pleasant woman in the world: she didn't seem to care anymore. The least possible love, the least realistic love was being fulfilled. With those last memories, recalling the sweet memories, Caryn got up, not without taking another sip of a sweet wine. She was shedding tears. She stroked her husband's face in the photo. Every second seemed to be an ordeal, a very painful burden. Caryn saw the cup: she hardly touched it. She walked away, and left the photo on the nightstand. Caryn remembered that she had to buy to make a famous meal, and… she needed to collect the grades. Oh, the school grades: the executioner of almost any student.

Caryn got ready (she did what she could to hide her dark circles with her makeup), took the car keys and drove away. She drove, and she drove. Caryn had something in mind, but would she be able to do it? Could be, for real? She couldn't go on. Filbrick was like a part of her body she lost in an accident: it was phantom pain that haunted her. She, with all her might, despite everything, misses him ... for every single saint thing in this world: she miss him as a slave miss his freedom, as a flower miss the sun when it gets dark. She miss him. And there was –for her- not enough words to describe that feeling.

So tell me: did you like it? If so, leave your Like, and comment. I plead you, please. XD. If you see a strange word, I apologize. Inform me of that and I will correct it myself (just because I don't have a good command of English it doesn’t mean that I leave a job with mistakes of grammar, however small it may be). From the bottom of my heart, I hope you liked it, and remember to clean your hands, keep your distance, greet like the people of Wakanda, and have your vitamins on hand! Salvete ignotum est a terra.

#young stanley pines #young stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls au #my fics #My writing #Stanley Pines #stanford pines #stan and ford pines: a melancolic story #reblog if you wish

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