no use of y/n or you. Reader is referred to as she/her.
word count: 2K
read on ao3
Reader is a figther for the IKFC but as BaekJeong realises how skilled she is he keep her on his team for more work and eventually fall for her.
This is a short drabble, i might write a second part later.
The first time Baek-Jeong saw her, she was fighting ten men in a locked cage similar to the one he uses for the IKFC. He stumbled across this particular illegal fight one summer night while out scouting for some underground fighters not yet discovered by the scene.
He stayed for the fun because seeing a woman in an illegal fighting ring was a pretty rare thing to see, but then stayed because she won. She fought the ten men like it was a walk in the park.
His lips had turned real quick into that infamous devilish grin of his that always announced trouble. And Tae-Geom saw it, the way his boss’ eyes lit up and kept following her movements. Alan had therefore been tasked with finding out who she was, but had come back empty handed, and that intrigued Baek-Jeong even more.
He knew the smell of money in the duffle he presented her a few days later was what convinced her to follow him to Korea and do a few fights for him. But he’d be lying if he said he had to threaten her to stay by his side and do more fighting– bringing him more money because the viewers loved the novelty of a woman in a cage locked with someone twice her size.
She knew they were exploiting her, turning her into an animal in a zoo, a lamb caged with wolves, but she was paid, fed and housed in a pretty luxurious penthouse somewhere in Seoul. She wasn’t one to complain, she’d known harsher working conditions.
At least Baek-Jeong kept her under the radar, only broadcasting the live on the dark web, he had assured her no one could find them unless he decided so. And he didn’t know why but she had trusted him. She’d gotten close to Alan, playing video games together when there was nothing to do and the days were quiet.
She also befriended Tae-Geom, with whom she liked to train sometimes. He seemed to be the only one so far in the whole organisation to be at her level. Even Baek-Jeong was a level below, but she knew better than to say anything. The man had an ego and she didn’t want to piss him off. So far she was making good and easy money, but she knew it could change at any point. Baek-Jeong could get into a mood and decide the viewers weren’t betting enough money anymore on her, and decide to get rid of her.
She’d seen how he did it with previous fighters, snapping their neck and walking away all brooding, even more angry than when he’d entered the ring. And she liked to keep her neck as it was.
What she didn’t know, was that Baek-jeong had no intention of getting rid of her anytime soon. She was making him good money so far and he wanted to see how far she would go in this. And how far he could go, ever since he noticed she was not afraid of him. No matter what happened she never backed away from him, never lowered her eyes from him when he started getting angry, never cowered or shrunk in on herself like he saw so many men do in his presence.
He knew sometimes he was a loose canon and it made him impervisible to others, which he liked. Surprising your enemy was always a good thing, giving you an advantage.
But he felt like he could never really surprise her, never make her flinch, or scare her away. She always kept her eyes on his, not a single emotion crossing her features. It made him a little scared of her even though he would never admit that to anyone. If anything it made him more attracted to her, but he wouldn’t even allow himself to feel it, denying himself what his body and mind obviously felt.
It made her a little scary, sometimes, how she could keep her composure, remaining cool and collected even in stressful situations. He admired that quality a little. He thought maybe he would intimidate more people if he got his temper under control like her.
But his emotions were strong and he needed an output or he’d go crazy, so he had found boxing. And then violence, pure raw unfiltered violence in his underground fights. She saw it like his very own playground where he got to do anything he wanted with nobody to tell him no.
One night after a particularly long and exhausting fight in the cage, he emerged from the penthouse’s sliding window onto the massive terrasse for some air. His sleep had always been pretty bad; short nights, nightmares, exhaustion. He preferred to avoid sleep entirely when he could, which didn’t really help with his short temper.
That night, when he stepped out onto the terrace, he saw her on one of the outside chairs, a first aid kit laid on the table in front of her, squares of gauze and antiseptic soaked in blood laid out on the glass. She was laying back, her head tipped up toward the sky, a final gauze in one hand, but it seemed she’d gotten distracted.
The Seoul night air was significantly less hot at night, and he saw her rub her arms with her hands in an attempt to keep warm, her head still tilted back toward the ink black sky.
It’s like his body acted of his own, he realised, once he found himself a few paces away from where she sat. He noticed that she wasn’t looking at the sky as her eyes were closed now, her hair dancing around her face in the slow breeze.
“I can hear the gears in your head from here.” She’d spoken without moving from her position, head still tipped upward and eyes closed facing the stars. A small smile appeared on his lips as he heard her accent slip out under the exhaustion.
He huffed out a small laugh and shook his head while leaning against the railing of the terrace facing her, arms crossed and eyes on her.
“Are you staring at me?” She asked again with her eyes still closed. But at the lack of response from him she opened one to peer at him and then the other as she turned her head to look at him. Of course he was already staring right back at her. She smiled in a way that was far too innocent for someone in this kind of life and fists of steel.
Silently he walked toward her, sitting on the empty space next to her on the outside couch, and she had to turn to her side to keep looking at him, one leg tucked under herself. Baek-Jeong had one arm thrown over the backrest of the couch, his body angled toward her own, and his devilish grin still adorning his lips. She recognised this last detail as trouble on their way but still decided to stay and see what the story might bring.
For a few seconds that seemed to stretch in time and last longer, he just looked at her and the cuts and bruises covering the skin of her tattooed arms. A few cuts and bruises on her face as well. One of his hands came up to meet a strand of hair and push it back behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her cheekbone in the process. The contact felt nice, she hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in years. The only times someone had touched her it had been to hurt, punch or use her.
But not him, not right now. His hand lingered in the air, his fingers still grazing her cheek and she leaned into the touch. Soft caress against rough skin. She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the palm of his hand. The night around them silent like the world itself pressed the pause button to give them privacy. To make the moment last longer.
The gesture soft and silent but surprising. He hadn’t expected her to lean into his touch so easily, not even after months of being side by side for the IKFC, not after they’d started to warm up to each other. Because everyday upon waking up he tried to convince himself she was just an employee, a pawn in his big underground fight plans. A pawn he couldn’t deny the need to keep close to him.
Everytime he tried to convince himself that it was nothing; her lingering stares he often caught, the way she stayed by his side no matter what when talking to investors or potential fighters, the way she was ready to fight for him. He tried to convince himself she was just behaving like a normal person, doing the job she was paid for.
But each passing day, his resolve crumbled a little more and he felt his body in a new way, his mind losing grip on reality. His vision filled with dreams of a future an old version of him would’ve perhaps dreamed of every night.
He hid behind violence and anger, frustration piling up behind his dark stormy eyes, brow creased with tension. Everyone noticed how the blows he inflicted to his opponents were stronger, more violent, like he had unleashed something within himself lately. Tae-Geom worried a little, because he knew his boss was a loose wire and if something frustrated him so much as to unravel his anger on others then he needed to find what it was and fix it.
Baek-Jeong kept his entire body still, his eyes fixated on her face in his hand, her breathing slow and intentional. She was enjoying the moment, the stillness of it and the warmth emanating from him.
“You’re so warm.” was the only word that camee out of her, a little slurred from the exhaustion and it did something to his body, his breath itched, missing a beat and he had to force himself to keep his composure.
Without thinking Baek-Jeong shoved the threads of doubts and hesitation he felt lingering in his mind and shifted his hand so he could angle her face up toward his with his thumb on her chin, the rough skin of his hand so close to the soft flesh of her lips.
The movement made her open her eyes, already going away from his hand so he moved his fingers to the back of her neck before she could go too far, holding her in place as he approached his face. Right before their lips touched he saw her eyes darting down his face, her breathing missing a beat and finally her eyes closed as their lips met.
It was awkward for a second, he didn’t move and then closed his eyes and let himself revel in the moment, in the feeling of her soft mouth against his.
He moved and she followed, no question asked. The world tuned out around them, shivers erupted on her skin when the hand he had behind her neck squeezed a little there. Possessive in a nice way.
She moved her hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, up his neck, tangling with the hair at the base despite it being up loosely tied.
Their breathing intensified and he grabbed her hips to move her onto his lap, kissing her down her neck, biting down onto the soft skin there and kissing it again after. It didn’t feel like a first kiss, it felt like a reunion after a long time apart, it felt like a ritual lovers would have, hidden from the rest of the world on the rooftop of a hotel with no one around to disturb them.
When she woke up the next morning in his bed with one of his arms across her stomach she didn’t dare move, afraid everything would change right in front of her eyes as if it was just a dream. So she stayed very still next to him, his body heat radiating onto her and keeping her warm.
When he subconsciously moved his arm to bring her closer to him, squishing her to his chest and burning his nose in her neck while he slept, she let out an exhale and closed her eyes again. It wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t alone anymore. She hadn’t expected it but it had swooped her off of her feet and she really didn’t want to come back down.
no use of y/n or you, the reader is self insert and referred as she/her. Not proof read. word count: 2k
also on AO3
It took some time for Alan and the others to warm up to the new member of Baek-jeong’s team. A woman more than capable of doing the job, never hesitating before diving into a fight or flinching when the opponent sliced her skin with a sashimi knife. She was fast and strong, a damn good fighter by Baek-jeong’s standards, as good as Tae-geom even. But Alan kept his distance because even though he worked for a dangerous man and lived a hidden life made of violence and hacking, he wasn’t a violent man. He knew how to fight, it had been a requirement from Baek-jeong, but he didn’t like it. He knew it looked like cowardice to the others around, when he’d stay in the backseat of the car, hiding behind his laptop while the others went out to fight. But he just didn’t like to use his fists, he preferred to type on his keyboard– that’s the kind of violence he knew best. Inflicting someone some pain from afar, even if it was not physical, was much more satisfying and entertaining to him than any fist fight.
After awhile having to work and spend so much time with her, Alan finally warmed up to her a little bit. It was gradual, not intense and not a lot of words were exchanged but he noticed how she’d look at him sometimes and get so lost in thoughts that he would catch her staring a few seconds more before she realised and averted her gaze. He thought she hid it well under a look of indifference, but not nearly as good as she thought. He could see the very faint blush on her cheeks and her eyes staying longer on the piercing at his lower lip. He wasn’t indifferent to women, he liked them but he was just shy. Perhaps not confident enough in himself to totally understand why anyone would be even slightly interested in him. It wasn’t like he hated himself, but his lifestyle didn’t allow him lots of free time or freedom to meet new people, let alone women.
He was an introverted nerd who preferred the company of his tech rather than other humans. He was more confident behind his screen than he’d ever been in realy life. Except when he had to talk business with potential investors for the IKFC– that’s when the passion for his job took over just like it took over when he was typing away on his laptop, forgetting the whole world around. Despite the violence and rules he had had to live by because of his boss, Alan didn’t hate his job, nor his life. Maybe he did feel a little lonely sometimes, and that’s when he caught his mind wandering in a dangerous direction; toward her. Wondering what she was up to, what her past had been like and if anyone was looking for her.
Every time he’d try to shake the thought away, physically shaking his head like a dog after a bath, cracking his fingers and opening a new can of soda he willed his mind to come back to the present moment and the screens in front of him.
Baek-jeong had made him look her up but hardly anything had come up. A few child services files, a few police records when she was still a juvenile therefore avoiding any prison time. And then nothing, it was like she was dead to the rest of the world and there was not even a record of it. Like she disappeared from the surface of the Earth and no one went looking. He found it a bit tragic and sad, but also wonderful in a way. It gave her all the freedom she wanted. In a sense he was free too as he’d erased any trace of his previous life from the internet, he was a ghost like her. The simple fleeting thought made him smile, his tongue probing at the ring on his lower lip and immediately her face took over his mind again.
The moment his mind betrayed him and showed him images of her, blurred and fleeting in his brain, he threw his arms in the air as if in a giving up motion, annoyed that she was distracting him so easily. He didn’t know why she affected him so much, but he would be lying if he said it bothered him so much. A part of him was annoyed of course, from not knowing why his mind was acting up. The other part of him liked it, that special feeling he got in his body, filling his stomach with something special like she’d poisoned him.
Giving up on whatever he’d been doing on his screens all night, he got up and out of his room in search for something to drink in the not-so-mini fridge of the vast penthouse Baek-jeong has rented in a very luxurious hotel. Closing back the empty fridge he jumped from surprised when he turned around and noticed her standing on the other side of the counter. The last bottle in hand and a sort of innocent look on her face.
She finished swallowing her mouthful of water before throwing him a curious look and extending her arms, offering him the bottle. He took it hesitantly as a shy smile adorned her lips.
They started talking a little, some back and forth easy banter, and he enjoyed it. How easy it was to be around her, and it surprised him he hadn’t noticed sooner.
At some point she ended up on his side of the counter, he didn’t remembered her walking over while they discussed in hushsed voices as to not wake up their boss and his right hand who were sleeping just a few doors down the whole of the penthouse.
She watched him laugh at something she’d say, the way his smile radiated and was so communicative she couldn’t help her lips when they formed a smile too. Her eyes caught his lip piercing and the way his tongue poked out to wet his lower lip and the glint of the metal in the low kitchen light. Never in her life she’d imagined reacting so much to a simple piercing, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him very attractive.
His hair seemed even crazier than during the day, streaks of blue and blond, and she surprised herself when she asked him what his natural color was. She wasn’t even more surprised when he answered.
“I think i’d like to see you with your natural dark brown hair.”
That stunned him, shy as he was, couldn’t find a single thought in his big brain. So his body reacted on his own and he laughed a little awkwardly at it, because it was sort of a compliment half said. A truth hanging in there between them in the chill night air. The silence that enveloped them felt suddenly thick and Alan found a small pocket of courage in this tranquille atmosphere, because he stepped a few inches in her direction. The way she was she couldn’t run away easily, her back pressed to the counter, a wall on one side and his body on the other.
She seemed so close and yet so far, as if he could reach out with one hand and touch her arms crossed over chest, but so far because he struggled to let go and do what he craved too.
She kept looking him in the eye and threw him off balance a little, and sometimes her stare would slowly slide down to his piercing before going back up. He kept talking with that low deep voice of his she only hears when it’s pitch black outside and they’re both on a mission for Baek-jeong. She realised she liked it, the low deep tone leaving his throat as his adam apple bobbed. He seemed to catch up on it quickly.
It was instinctive, the way one of his arms slid around her waist, warm hand splayed at the small of her back. Her tank top was too thin to conceal his warm touch and goosebumps erupted on her skin, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice. But he did and he loved it, revelled in the way she reacted to his touch.
The distance between them disappeared gradually, and her arms uncrossed and palms splayed against his chest. He radiated warmth and it felt so good that she let her eyes flutter close for a second and her breathing slow down.
When she opened her eyes again, they felt heavy with sleep but mostly with need, her pupils blown wide engulfing almost all the brown around. She’d been craving physical touch for the longest time, yearning to be held and here she found herself. Held by the man she possibly had a crush on no matter how hard she scolded herself for it. But a part of her reasoned that Alan and her had been exchanging glances for months now, his voice always so low and intentional whenever he’d talk to her.
She’d look up from his lips to his eyes, only to find them fixated on her own mouth, heavy lidded eyes staring right back at her, at something that looked way too soft for such a violent world. The moment seemed to stretch forever as he leaned toward her, their noses brushing and their breathing entangling. For a second it felt like the world stopped spinning entirely, and froze on its axis.
He sneaked a hand to her waist and held her tight like he needed physical support, the other coming to brush under her jaw, hold it and swipe a thumb on her cheek. She could taste the last energy drink he drank on his lips, the metal ring on his lower one colder than she expected. The kiss deepened and he shuffled closer, their bodies flush against each other and her back pressed against the cold counter.
The hand at her waist slid under her thin tank top, the fabric so thin she felt every inch of him through his own t-shirt. His hand squeezed the soft flesh at her waist and she caressed the hair at the back of his neck while they got lost in the kiss.
After that first move that night, every time he looked at her she could feel herself blushing and she hated herself for letting her feelings rule her. She was a professional, she needed to keep a cool head but Alan was everywhere, always nearby with his finger hovering above his keyboard.
Some night when she couldn’t sleep she would find her way to his room, hovering behind the door wondering if she was making a mistake until the need to see him took over and she stepped inside his room before anyone could spot her in the hallway.
Often time he wouldn’t hear her sneaking up onto him, his headphones blasting some heavy music, his hands busy on his computer and his eyes glued to his screens. But once he noticed her, he would completely leave whatever he was doing aside, get up from his chair with a wicked grin on his face.
Everytime she’d see him look at her with that devilish grin and his tongue poking out on his lower lip near the ring, it felt like something was fluttering in her stomach. Something almost feral and instinctive. And he felt it too, when she’d look at him and get lost in thoughts so much she wouldn’t even notice that he caught her staring. He found it amusing but never told her, afraid she would stop doing it if she became self-conscious about it.
So he kept his thoughts a little secret but made sure she knew that she didn’t leave him indifferent, he wanted to make sure she knew how he felt. And since he wasn’t good with words he let his body do the work. Letting his hands roam over her top and shorts, letting his mouth tell her unholy stories in the form of long passionate kisses.
His breathing hitching when he’d feel her hands at his neck, on his shoulders, down his stomach. Soft sounds leaving him when she’d slightly bite down on his lower lip, kissing his piercing.
Making her walk backward he lowered them both on the mattress, her body beneath his and one hand caressing the skin on her thigh uncovered by her shorts. Clothes quickly discarded on the floor, messy tangle of limbs and breathing, his voice so deep and low she was certain he could send her over the edge just by talking to her like that.
She knew he kept his voice down for practical reasons, she knew they had to keep it low for now, but she’d be damned if she didn’t say it turned her on even more. The way he talked her through it, his grunt and breath against her skin, the metal of the lip piercing a stark contrast to his soft lips.
When he spun them around and she found herself on top of him, he kept his hands on her hips squeezing the skin as they moved as if in sync. His eyes trailing over her naked form right in front of him, he thought he was seeing an angel, a few locks of her long hair falling over her shoulders. She moved and arched her back, eyes boring a hole in his soul as she completely lost herself. A rolled his hips to match her movements and the feeling was so much his back arched instinctively.
They were both revelling in the feeling of each other's embrace, the walls of the room and the city night lights the only witnesses to the devotion they displayed.
No way I just found a midnight mass fic on ao3 that’s AU and it’s alpha and omega werewolves kinda stuff. I love fanfics, the diversity is awesome, it cracks me up
note: no use of y/n, the reader is referenced as she/her, in my head there's a slight age gap but it's not specified in the story, so you do whatever you want with this information :) )
the men in bloodhounds were just serving ahhhh ? little something because my thoughts were going crazy and i just had to get it out, so i wrote it down. Feedback is highly appreciated! idk if the fandom might be small and niche idk, i just really enjoyed the show! Who should i do next? What kind of fic do we want?? I've never written smut so if you want more explicit scene i could try but i won't do it unless someone ask xD
word wount: 2k, english is not my first language, sorry for any mistake!
She’d always been an outcast. Never fit in, always the odd one out, the weird one. It has always been like that, until she started working as a mercenary. Traveling around the world solo to execute contracts was more her thing. It didn’t require her to have social skills, just to be the best. And she was the best at what she did. And that’s how she found herself working for some Korean boss of an underground fighting ring. He was known in the whole world, at least for those who knew where to look. The dark web was the only place to find the IKFC, and he had his own hacker traveling with him, making it hard for anyone to track them. She liked Allen, he was always nice to her even if at the start he seemed a bit tense around her.
She liked that new job, it was a new kind of contract. She just had to stay by Baek-jeong’s side and do the dirty work he didn’t want to do sometimes. She was constantly around him and Alan and Tae-Geom, making it hard not to befriend them. Each had their own personality and she liked to hang out with them three, even if it was often work-related, they sometimes found themselves around a drink late at night to decompress. To her it was good company, and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. She knew her contract would come to an end at some point, and she didn’t know if it would be renewed or not.
Baek-jeong had first found it a bit hard to trust a newcomer, let alone a woman, on his team. But she eventually proved him that he could trust her, that she had what it took to live this kind of life– away from everyone, no social life, no family, no friends. She showed him she was loyal and would always do whatever he assigned her to, as long as he payed her and her contract wasn’t terminated but that part of course she kept to herself. He was hard to read, never showing his emotions except anger and violence. A lot of violence.
Sometimes he liked to put on a show to remind her that he was the boss, pinning her against the wall and staring at her with those murderous eyes of his. A wicked grin would stretch his lips and he would look down at her mouth, his breathing fanning over her face. One time he was so close to her that she thought he was going to kiss her, force himself on her. But his phone rang and he looked down at the screen displaying Taegeon’s name. Baek-jeong was so dedicated he didn’t realise he’d missed an opportunity. He didn’t realise he’d put his work– or rather his angry determination, before his own feelings. He could’ve had her, she wouldn’t have said no if she was still single, but now was different.
And that’s when she noticed the difference with Tae-Geom. The way he wouldn’t even have heard the phone ringing because he would’ve been too focused on her, his body so close to hers, their breaths entangling between them, the silence that screamed yearning louder than any words. He always seemed enthralled by her presence, and the closer he got, the harder to resist it became. His fingers itched to touch her, to feel the soft skin of her own hands. He always wondered how she could be so soft when her job was so rough. He admired her for being so strong every day, on every single job, in every situation even though he never told her. He’d been distant with her at first, and slowly working together and spending so much time together helped building trust, and other feelings.
When it’s just the two of them, in a hotel room from a different hotel from where their boss stayed, it was like the world around them didn’t exist. It was rare moments they could share together away from everyone and everything, as they were always busy running around for their boss. But Tae-Geom always made sure that he didn’t have any unfinished business before seeing her, so he wouldn’t be disrupted by unwanted phone calls from Baek-jeong asking him where he was and to come to him right away. Baek-jeong was a loose cannon and Taegeon feared the moment his boss would discover his relationship with her. He was so afraid of what he would do that it made every secret rendez-vous even more important to him. He poured his whole heart and soul into it, making sure she knew he loved her more than his own life.
As soon as she opened the door of the hotel room he was on her, hands at her face, thumb stroking her cheek, sliding on her lips, his eyes devouring her as passionately as his lips on her mouth. Pushing her backward against the door, cradling the back of her head and slowly sliding his hand to the back of her neck. She loved his quiet dominance, not brutal but absolute and certain. There was no space for doubt here, in their own bubble, he made sure of it. Switching to the front of her neck, holding her steady while they kissed, heavy breathing echoing against the walls like unholy sounds. He knew she liked that, the hand on her neck, not too tight but still holding her in place, putting him in charge. It gave her a chance to relax, to not be harsh and merciless in the face of the world, the opportunity to slip back into a normal person, a more soft version of herself, and let her body be consumed by the feeling of his fingers on her skin.
He let himself go entirely, head empty of anything that wasn’t her. A few more desperate and intense sloppy kisses before he pulled away just a few inches for air. She tried to move her head forward, to reach for his lips to capture him in another kiss, but he softly dodge by pulling away a little more just as her lips grazed his. Her eyes finally lifted from his mouth to his own, they both had heavy lidded stares lost in another world. A spark bloomed in her insides as if this little cat and mouse game just woke her up from a slumber. He smiled softly at the face she made, her small smile tugging at her lips. She tried again but this time he used the hand around her neck to stop her, squeezing a little, and coming close to her again his body flush against hers, he looked at her from above like she was unreal.
She never told him she liked that little height difference and the way he just used it to his advantage in these situations. She hadn’t told him about the neck thing or the kiss-chase either but he was so tuned in to her that he noticed every little reaction. He noticed how her pupils reacted to his actions, he heard her breathing skip a beat and watched her chest rise and fall heavily when his other hand squeezed her waist and his nose nudged hers, his voice already repeating her name like a prayer, in a low raw tone, almost broken voice.
And in a beat they were back to it, her hands that had been fisted in his flannel now tugged at it down his arms, mumbling something about too much clothes in between them and needing him. They didn’t break the kiss as he walked them backward toward the bed, shaking their shoes off, she fumbled a bit with his belt and him with hers. He took his t-shirt and jeans off before his back could hit the mattress, slowly bringing her down with him as she did the same. He kept his hands tightly around her as she climbed on to straddle him. The sounds escaping them were already full of the heat of the moment, outright filthy, gasping in each other’s embrace, mouth devouring each others.
Taegeon liked when he could look at her while she was on top of him, he liked to see her face, her reactions, and how her body moved. The way her eyes progressively got more screwed shut as the pleasure consumed her, head thrown back and her mouth slightly open, sounds worthy of the greatest porno leaving her. If she was an actress and awards existed for these movies she’d get them all, he thought. He would give them all to her even without watching these kinds of movies. He didn’t need to when she was right here in his arms, when she was all he ever wanted, all he could ever dream of. She was perfect to him, even when she didn’t see it in herself, and he wanted to remind her of it everyday. He needed to make sure she never forgot how perfect she is. How much he loved her.
When he couldn’t take the distance anymore, when his body craved her skin, he finally sat up to meet her, encircling her waist with his strong arms, their bodies flush against each other, no distance possible. Sometimes they’d do it like that, hugging each other, soft and tender and peaceful in the way only skin to skin could bring to you. Other times he would turn them around, laying her down underneath him, their body never detaching from one another, his mouth trailing kisses from her stomach to her breasts and then neck where he buried his face. One arm under her shoulder holding her, the other down her side, kneading at the flesh, grabbing her thigh, he really couldn’t help it– he needed to have his hands on her, to feel her.
He revelled in how she encircled his shoulders with her arms, nails digging in his back, the better he made her feel, the deeper the nails dug, making deep groans leave his throat. He didn’t care about the aftermath of it, the red marks trailing his skin, the stinging sensation when he moved and his clothes irritated it the next day. To him it was just a reminder of what they’d done, how good they’d both felt. When he started neebling on the soft skin on her neck, his head buried between her hair and the pillows, she instinctively moved one hand to the back of his head, as if trying to anchor him there, softly moaning in a way that made him see stars, his head so light and a soft fluttering sensation filling his stomach.
The only time they’d part was to shower afterward and clean up before coming back to bed and sleep the reminder of the night in each other’s embrace. Even in his sleep he would hold her close to him, too scared something could happen to her when he slept. He got that gut wrenching feeling during the day too, when she’d go on her own without backup to do something reckless for their boss again. He always worried about her but could never show it directly and he had to conceal his emotions everyday for risks of Baek-jeong finding out.
That night, after they showered together and went back to bed to sleep before another day of work, he promised himself one thing as he caressed her shoulder– he promised that no matter what, he’d get out of this life and take her with him and his daughter. He’d give her the life she deserved and everything she ever wanted.
Twilight fanfic - Paul Lahote x reader part 2 “Rain and anguish”
part 1
masterlist
ao3 link
While you’re dealing with the aftermath of your beach adventures, Paul is too. The difference was that he has the pack to look after him and help him understand what’s happening to him. And they all know two things for certain: one; you had the distinct scent they’d smell on the clothes found deep in the forest a few days ago, and two; Paul had imprinted on you.
And the two weren’t adding up. They didn’t understand how they could be another shifter in Forks and they hadn’t noticed. Some had suspicions ever since that day in the forest, but nothing had been confirmed. Though your sudden appearance had lifted some concerns at the reservation, and even sparked a meeting between the elders.
Sam wanted to meet you, make you come to the reservation and have a discussion. They couldn’t have another shifter outside of the reservation or it was war guaranteed with the coven of vampires that were the Cullens. They had rules they needed to respect. That’s what made the elders agitated mostly.
Paul’s imprinting was the lesser of their concerns. But to him though? It was a big deal. He couldn’t believe it happened to him. He didn’t know how to feel. When he had looked at you at first, it’s like gravity had suddenly shifted under his feet and his whole world was upside down. Or rather like it was finally making sense. Everything was a little smoother around the edges, a stark contrast to how he had seen life unfold around him for years; sharp and tough. Hurtful.
You were soothing him.
When he had looked into your eyes, it was like the final piece of the puzzle of his soul had finally been found and put at the right place. He didn’t know if all these feelings and emotions washing over him all of a sudden were good or bad. Maybe a little of both, he decided. He couldn’t make up his mind. A part of him was furious that another choice in his life had been taken from him. First he had shifted without even wanting it. And even now after some months, he still hates himself for it. Blaming himself, as if he had any say in all of that.
And now the imprint. It scared him. An imprint could be a lot of things, but in general people ended up getting together and irrevocably in love. It was almost endearing but also disgusting to witness Sam and Emily and their perfect love bubble.
You spent that day alone inside your house, trying to keep your mind busy from the beach events and the pain, but you barely managed to read a few pages of a book before your brain started wandering off. At least it seemed your brain was so focused on the recent events that it almost forgot the pain coursing through your body.
Bella called you the next day, saying that Jacob had asked her to drive you down to the reservation. She said he didn’t tell her the reason, but maybe she knew and didn’t want to tell you in case it stopped you from following her there.
That’s when your mind snapped back to reality and doubled over, hands braced against your knees, trying to catch your breath. Your head was pounding and thankfully Bella drove in silence. No questions, no music, just the sound of the road underneath her truck and the cool breeze coming through the open passenger window.
You saw in the corner of your eye that Bella turned her head towards you a couple of times, probably checking if you weren’t dying on her passenger seat. She could probably see the beads of sweat forming on your forehead.
“You okay? You haven’t said much since the beach,” she let her voice drop low and quiet as if she wasn’t sure she should or could mention it. Like you would burst in an uncontrollable rage at the memory. You thought you must have scared her quite well if she was taking so many precautions to talk to you.
You blamed yourself and hated yourself for behaving a certain way sometimes, but there were days, moments, during which you could barely control yourself because you weren’t yourself.
When she parked beside Jake’s bike, you immediately noticed him standing straight, arms crossed over his chest. A few other boys hovered around him, some sported curiosity on their faces, others looked more worried than anything else.
As soon as Bella got out of the car it was like Jake forgot all his worries and the world around, as he ran to greet her with a big hug. You hesitated, hands on the door handle, finger’s fidgeting nervously. You could sense something in the air, but you didn’t know what it was. And it made you nervous.
What did Jacob want to talk to you about? Had you done something wrong the other day at the beach? Had you hurt or vexed anyone? You didn’t fully remember the day but you know you barely talked. You let Bella do the talking that day.
Taking a big gulp of air you pushed the door open. The very moment you put one foot on the ground and Jacob had you in his line of sight, it was like the stars in his eyes had been turned off. He didn’t look happy to see you, but again Bella hadn’t said anything so you weren’t sure.
He came up to you as you closed the door, fidgeting with your sleeves. “There’s some things we need to talk about.” Was all he said. He didn’t even greet you, so you guessed you had done something pretty bad for him to be so closed off and grumpy. He simply nodded at you to follow him down a muddy path toward a simple but cute house.
Hidden away underneath the shadows of the big trees in the forest, you could see silhouettes moving inside behind the windows, and you heard chatter and laughter.
Jacob entered first, followed by the guys that had been waiting with him and Bella. You were the last one to get inside, and as you closed the door behind you, every pair of eyes landed on you. What you didn’t notice though, was that some eyes traveled from you to Paul and from him to you again.
Looks were exchanged and finally when the silence became too loud and heavy, a man in his thirties and a woman about the same age came out of another room hand in hand. They stopped short when they noticed everybody inside the house, and finally their gaze landed on you. The woman was the first one to speak, greeting you warmly and introducing herself and the man by her side. Her name was Emily and he was Sam.
She immediately went to the oven, opened it and took out a tray of freshly baked cookies. Sam went up to you and introduced himself as well as the other boys and young men in the room. Meanwhile one of the youngest boys sitting down around the dining table got scolded by Emily who had just put a plate full of hot cookies. He was shaking his fingers and blowing on them, you guessed what he had tried to do and a soft smile brushed your lips.
You all but noticed the dark silhouette hovering at the far end of the room, like he was sulking after being punished like a child. His arms crossed over his bare chest, his eyes remained on the ground.
Sam told you to take a seat and you obliged, not wanting to show how tired you were but also grateful he gave you the option.
You sat in silence observing the scene around you. The boys had started talking amongst themselves, the agitated chatter filling the kitchen and dining room. It looked like a mundane scene in the home of a loving family, you thought nostalgic.
Sam leaned back against the wall facing you, his hands in his jean’s pockets. You noticed he was barefoot, but you also noticed they were all shirtless and barefoot. Sam had a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he observed you. You didn’t know if you should feel nervous about it, or nervous about the way they all seemed to share a secret that the world would never know.
He took a deep inhale, then started talking again, ending the torture of waiting silently while happy chaos gently unfolded around you in the room.
“I know this seems strange,” and he gestured to the room around the both of you, “but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
He then took a place on a chair in front of you, beside the table and started telling you a story about his tribe and the reservation. About some monsters named the Cold-ones and others beasts trying to protect their land. It was a story of life and death, survival and war and bloodlines.
You got chills when he talked about the violence and the fights. And somehow you felt the story resonating inside your bones. You weren’t sure you fully understood or grasped the whole point of his story, the whole gravity of it, but somewhere within yourself, you felt that this story was a part of the past and that it had really happened. At the end of his story his eyes were still on you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if you’d get the hint.
You saw some sort of currency in his brown eyes, but you didn’t know why. So you simply asked. You hadn’t noticed that everyone had quieted down and had been listening too despite knowing the stories by heart as it was custom for the tribe members.
“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t these kind of stories ancient and sacred and like, I don’t know, private to the members of the tribe?”
Everybody was surprised that you knew how private the tribe was and how their past was important. You weren’t ignorant or insensitive, you just thought these kinds of stories were passed down from generation to generation. Never wrote down, always shared with their voices.
As the time passed and Sam was telling his story, you could feel your headache coming back. All your senses heightened once again, you could hear everyone breathing in the room, every scrapping of a chair on the wooden floor. Beads of sweat started to appear on your forehead and neck and Sam seemed to notice. You tried to cover yourself up with your hands, but your arms were hurting. Your shoulders were stiff and your head felt so heavy.
You could have fallen asleep right then and there so much the pain was tiring. Or more like your endless effort to tame the beast inside of you was taking your strength. And the beast was still clawing inside, howling silently in your mind. Like silently begging you to let go.
You had developed a pretty strong mental willpower– that or you were incredibly stubborn trying to fight off the symptoms of each shift.
The noises in the room were starting to overwhelm you, added with how hot you were feeling, like you had a fever. Emily walked over to you and reached out with one hand, but you flinched away and it startled her.
You stuttered a half apology, “Don’t.”
You got up fast from your chair, knocking it over in the process. All the eyes were on you. Paul had shifted from his spot to another closer to the table sometime during the storytelling.
And suddenly you heard a branch cracking outside the open window. Your head snapping in its direction. Eyes narrowing and breathing slowing down, you clenched your hands into fists and tried to ground yourself in your surroundings.
You couldn’t cause a scene here. Not now. Not in front of so many people. A part of you was scared and was seeking loneliness in times like these. The comfort of the forest, the silence of nature and the soft whisper of the trees in the wind. The darkness the tall trees and bushes provided gave you privacy during these tough moments where your entire body shifted. All the bones snapping into different places, claws growing out of your nails and your skin getting covered in fur.
It was a painful process, and you struggled a lot.
Sam got up too, pushing Emily behind him protectively. He kept one hand in the air in front of him like you would to a scared or wounded wild animal. A sign of peace. You knew he didn’t want to hurt you, but the thing trying to get out of your skin could easily hurt him. Or anyone in that kitchen for that matter.
You stumbled backward a few steps and looked up to see everyone looking at you with concern all over their faces. The youngest looked the most excited though, and you didn’t fully understand why. The eldest of the small crowd sported a look of worry and pity.
And it made you angry. Why would they be worried about you? Were they scared of you? Scared you could hurt them? Why did they look like they were pitying you too? Couldn’t they just look away and forget everything, down to your very own existence?
You inhaled sharply. The feeling of anger was much easier to trigger during this state of pre-shift struggle. And now that you felt this anger, this hatred at the world and at nothing in particular and you couldn’t hold back any longer.
Shaking your head “no” slightly, your hand flew to your ears. Trying to drown out the noise and pain pulsing through your skull. You staggered out the door, down the few steps of the small wooden porch and onto the mud.
A soft rain had started to drizzle down from the grey clouds, and you closed your eyes as you looked up at the sky. Praying to whoever was listening to help you.
If anyone discovered your secret, knew who– what- you truly were, you’d had to move out again. And you hated this idea. Mainly because you liked it here. You had slowly adapted into a small routine and it wasn’t that bad. Despite the pain and loneliness. But also because something was holding you here and you didn't know what it was. It made you feel like you were going crazy some days.
You couldn’t help it, you let out a low grunt as your knees landed in the wet soil. A few gathered on the front porch and observed the scene. Sam walked forward, not too much as to scare you again. Paul was on his heels, curiosity and something else written on his face. You couldn’t quite tell what else, that you saw in his dark eyes.
But your stare lingered a moment until you doubled over, hands pressing hard against your skull and spine curving forward.
Your nose almost touched the ground as you rocked back and forth on your knees. Someone said something in a hushed tone and you couldn’t make out the words, but then you heard Sam’s voice nearer and you held onto that.
“It’s gonna be okay, don’t fight it.” You took a few ragged breaths and he continued, “Don’t fight it, it’ll only make it worse.”
You wanted to listen to him but you also wished you hadn’t changed into this beast. You were scared, and maybe he could feel it or maybe he saw it on your face as he crouched down and leaned to be closer to you. Trying to make you feel safe.
“Listen to me, it’ll be easier if you let it come, let the feelings wash over you, trust me I know.”
He knew the firsts transformations were supposed to hurt like hell, what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t technically your firsts shift. It had been six months since the incident and ever since that fateful night you couldn’t control the shift whenever they happened.
You wanted to tell him everything, tell him your story, tell him all the details, all the things that happened and that you had to go through alone. You had a feeling he would understand, maybe he had experienced that alone as well. You clung onto that single thought, like it was your only hope.
You heard a few birds taking up in the sky from some nearby trees and the noise only spurred you on– triggering the beastly instinct inside of you.
Suddenly you yelped from the pain coursing through your body and took a few steps forward, away from the house. Sam followed you close enough to help if anything happened, but not too close as to disturb you. He wasn’t sure if your shift would be the same as any of the others he had witnessed.
He knew what you were trying to do, walking slowly through your body’s convulsions toward the forest. Searching for privacy and the dark protective shadows of the ancient trees.
He understood the gesture, all the shifters from his pack had done the same during their first shift. Searching for a private place where they could suffer alone.
Without any watchful eyes, judging and full of unwanted emotions.
Paul took a few steps, staying behind Sam as he couldn’t overstep the Alpha of the pack. He watched you with a deep worry in his beautiful dark eyes. Jaw clenched and hands balled into fists. He wanted to help you, something inside of him ached for you, seeked to be close to you, to help you in any way. But he also knew shifting could be painful. He didn’t fully understand how he felt about all these emotions swarming his mind and body.
You screamed again, head thrown back from the pain, from the bones cracking and moving into place. A big cluster of clouds passed overhead, low and dark, full of rain. Thunder rolling and a few flashes of lightning illuminating the forest. It was like the sky was following you, the shade of the clouds staying above you as you became a big wolf with fur so dark it looked almost black in the shadows.
Paul’s jaw dropped slightly, unintentionally as he took in the giant wolf in front of him. You were big, probably as big as him and Sam. You could probably fight a full grown Alpha and win by yourself if you wanted to.
His thoughts were interrupted by a low, angry growl as you turned back to face him and Sam. Your eyes were dark and narrowed to slits, almost glowing with fury. Paul got chills running up his arms as he stared at your cold and predatory glare. You looked beautiful and fierce, lips curled back, showing ivory teeth sharp like knives. He observed attentively as you growled low, foam gathering at the corner of your lips, saliva stringing a little. Everything in you just showed anger and fury, relentless fury. It was savage, violent but also beautiful. He just knew you would be a hell of a fighter. He also knew you would give a hell of a hard time to Sam.
Everybody watched as Sam moved in front of you, blocking your view of Paul and the others. You wondered silently if he was trying to protect them from you. Were they scared?
The thought only made you even more angry and hurt, your head was pounding as you lowered your head and snarled at him. Your front paws were braced heavily against the muddy soil, the muscles in your shoulders moving. The others were impressed and not hiding it in the slightest.
Sam recognised this stance and didn’t waste a second more. A fighting stance. You were ready to bounce on your prey or on anything. He shifted into his wolf form, ready to help you or defend his family and friends if needed be. He had to keep in mind that you were still a stranger despite knowing Bella, and he couldn’t rely on his trust because he didn’t know you well enough.
So he braced himself ready and waited. He tried to tell you via his thoughts that he was here to help you but your mind was so messy and loud he could barely get a thought for himself. So he tried to look less intimidating, and more curious and cautious. Trying to make you understand he wasn’t here to hurt you.
Unfortunately in your frenzy you barely registered anything, and right now this other big wolf in front of you was a threat in your mind. As your thoughts swarmed inside your own head, flashes of various threats from your past, Sam saw a few of these glimpses in his own, and started to understand that you had been hurt before. He understood easily enough that gaining your trust wouldn’t be easy.
But he was ready to do his most to help a fellow shifter.
So when you launched yourself forward to attack him he only focused on defending himself. He didn’t try attacking you back, but rather trying to help you get all that frustration and hurt out of your system. Like playing with a dog to exhaust him the most to make sure he’ll be obedient afterwards.
The rain started in a soft drizzle, cold and fresh. You enjoyed it but were too focused on your task that you didn’t notice.
The others watched as the fight continued on for a long time. They witnessed Sam being thrown forcefully against trees and rocks. They watched as you obviously led the fight, again and again. You had a lot of strength, it was remarkable. But again Sam wasn’t giving you everything he had and it frustrated you even more each time you landed a blow or threw him hard enough to knock him off.
After a while they all grew restless just as the rain grew more heavy. Some went back inside to fetch a few cookies, as if they were only watching tv and enjoying it. Emily sat on the stairs and Paul could sense the tension radiating from her as she folded her arms against her chest. She fidgeted anxiously with her ring. He slowly got down on the front steps beside her, silently reassuring her one hand on her shoulder.
You could sense that Sam was getting tired of the fight dragging on, but you weren’t the least bit exhausted. You could’ve fought all day and night long. But you slowly started to feel less anger coursing through your mind. More frustration. Slowly becoming a little bit more empty, your feelings erased, leaving your mind fuzzy.
You were growing tired of this game, Sam wasn’t even attacking you back and you had quickly noticed. You turned your attention to the forest as Sam seemed exhausted besides you, breathing heavily.
Sensing something, Paul got up from his spot on the front porch stairs and walked closer slowly. You didn’t look at him once before leaping towards the forest. The sun had started his descent and the luminosity was getting lower by the hour, making the forest even darker than when the clouds arrived.
Paul called out your name for you to wait, Sam howled but you didn’t stop. You didn’t look back. You continued to run forward. And then you heard it, two sets of breathing, more than one wolf coming after you.
The realisation only spurred you on even more and you ran faster, jumping and bouncing above the trunks of trees covered in moss and rockes. You reached the clearing at the same time as Paul, his wolf form right behind you. He was fast, matching your speed. You liked it. You blinked at him curiously as you took it in. His beautiful grey and brown fur, his eyes.
You were ready to fight again, your big black paws stomping on the pretty green grass. Paul walked with you, both of you walking in circles around each other, like you were sizing up your opponent. But when you looked directly into his big dark eyes, the brown almost swallowed by new moon blackness, you couldn’t see what you were looking for. You couldn’t see any trace of hate.
Your thoughts came to him in a big flash, too fast and intense for him to have time to grasp anything and really look into it.
And then you felt that sensation again– the one from the beach. Like the ground moved under you and the sky started spinning above. Suddenly it was like someone had popped the bubble that had surrounded you for so long, and you could hear the birds singing around you. You smelt the flowers from the clearing, something beautiful and colourful. The earth wet from the soft rain that was slowly stopping.
He was intently watching you, his stare locked onto yours. Face unmoving, mouths closed. He was silent, not a single sound coming from him. But if you really listened closely, you noticed his ragged breathing, matching yours.
You both stopped walking in circles, close enough that you could feel his breath on your own muzzle. He tentatively took a few steps closer and you sniffed the air around him. His scent washing over your senses, his heartbeat a melody in your ears.
He did the same, sniffing the air, closing in on the fur around your neck and taking big sniffs. He heard the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, it was like he felt it physically too. Like his heart was cut in half and you were the other half. He thought it was beautiful, like a song he could listen to forever. All animosity and rigid predator behaviour was gone now, replaced by something so tender and soft it was almost painful to witness. Like he was hurting from being so close and yet so far from you.
The soft bubble that had formed around you popped suddenly when Sam erupted into the flowery meadow. You only had time to notice that he was carrying something in his mouth before you ducked your head down in a sudden rush of pain. And in a flash of thunder you were human again, laying down on your side, naked in the wet tall grass. You curled up on yourself, eyes staring at the pretty flowers almost above you. You barely remember thinking how flowers could be so tall.
You heard a few noises behind you as Paul shifted back to human and put on the pair of denim shorts Sam had brought. The Alpha nodded to Paul and turned around, walking back to the house where everyone was waiting.
Paul gathered the clothes and walked slowly closer to you. He was facing your back and it stopped him in his tracks when he saw the scars there. Claws marks. Bite marks. On your lower back, your shoulder blades, and he saw a glimpse of your arms too.
He knelt and put the clothes on the ground. He didn’t know if it was safe enough to touch you but he didn’t really care. Something inside of him had been craving your closeness ever since the beach. Ever since he knew what had happened but was too scared to admit it or say it aloud.
So he gently rested a warm hand on your arm. You startled, curling up even more on yourself like you were trying to disappear from the surface of the Earth. He felt how warm you were underneath his fingertips and he almost hummed from the sensation. Closing his eyes he just took a moment to savour it all. The way his mind was calmer than usual. It was like he could breathe more easily now that you were nearby.
Somehow, with gentle soothing words he convinced you to get dressed. He noticed the goosebumps running up your arm when he took his hand off, as if the contact of his skin alone had been keeping you warm against the soft breeze after the rain.
He smiled a little. Liking that reaction of your body and mind to his presence.
It meant a lot.
He gave you privacy as you slowly got dressed, silently waiting his back facing you. Then he offered you his hand to help you get up, not doubting how sore your muscles were after such a long fight.
Your fingers lingered longer than it should have in his hand, slowly slipping away from his palm as you both silently walked back to the others under the last drops of rain.
You undoubtedly were going to need some explanations and help from the pack. You clearly needed their guidance. But they also needed to know where you were from and if you were any danger to the reservation.
Part 1: A wolf gone rogue - pairing: Paul Lahote x reader
part 2
masterlist
blurb: This came to me in a dream, for real i just wanted to imagine an alternate story in which Paul’s imprint would be another shifter but I wanted to add a little twist to it. So here we go with something a little crazy about shifting and probably not accurate at all. But hey, it’s just a fanfiction.
You arrived at Forks under the cover of a low and dark sky, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. The thick forest surrounding the town was a lush dark green color, giving you the impression of being alone on the Earth. And to be honest, the thought wasn’t so bad.
People were the reason why you had to move out in the first place. Something happened and it left you with no other choice than packing your things, loading your truck and driving as far as you could. Or until you found the perfect place.
You didn’t really know why you had decided to do a pit stop in Forks but one thing was certain, you were hungry and your tummy noises could compete with those of the thunder in the dark sky. So you stopped at a diner and ate so much all you wanted to do afterwards was take a nap.
But you had to keep going. Keep driving until you can't anymore. But there was something about this place, Forks, it made you feel all funny inside. Made you want to stay a little longer. Like there was a thread pulling you and keeping you there.
You found a small house on the outskirts of the woods to rent. Cheap and small but it was largely enough for you. You just needed a fresh start. So you found a job, or two and began your new life. You befriended your neighbor, the chief of police. His name was Charlie, and his daughter Bella. You weren't that much older than her, so you became friends.
Some night you even went to their place when Charlie would invite you over to watch baseball on tv with his friend Billy and his son Jacob. So yeah some of your nights were as lonely as your day, some were better. Spent in good company, with genuine people. Pizza, popcorn, beer. Good evenings.
And the other nights? They were worse than the rest, lonelier and more brutal. It is during those torturous nights that you wish you could hold on to somebody. But your fear of getting close to people- either because you knew they could easily hurt you or you could easily hurt them- was holding you back from any real socialisation.
One night in particular was rougher. Thunder rolling low in the sky, rain falling slowly, the sound echoing on the roof of the house. The whole day had been excruciating, pain flaring up in your entire body, your skin felt too tight on you, you couldn’t breathe properly, every sound was louder than usual. Everything you touched felt wrong. You knew what it meant and yet your brain tried to deny it every waking second. Every cell in your body was fighting against one another.
When you couldn’t take it anymore, and you knew you’d shift at any given moment, you leaped out in the forest, thorny bushes grabbing at your skin and hair. But you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop. You kept on running as fast as you could and screamed when the shift happened. You could feel every bone in your body snapping into place, your skin moving with them.
Your senses already heightened where exacerbated even more and you fell loudly to the ground, your body convulsing in spasms. You tried to drown out the noises by covering your ears, grabbing at your head. You screamed again and again from the pain. Praying, begging it would stop.
In your state you didn’t notice the dark silhouette watching you from a distance, half hidden behind a tree. He watched as you moved in pain, laying in the grass under the cover of the big trees. He watched as you shifted slowly, painfully. Listening to your cry of agony. He was hovering between walking away and waiting for you to reveal yourself to the rest of the pack, or staying in case you needed help. It was strange to see another struggle with their shifting. It made him feel less alone.
But suddenly you rose up on your feet, ears moving with every sound around you. And then your head ducked down again and he saw a flash of your human form covering your head with your hands. Just a flash, barely could see the colour of your flesh under the black and and dark brown fur. Then the wolf was back, the flash stopped and he heard a howl, low and painful. He could feel the pain in the tone of your voice.
You dashed deeper in the forest, paws landing heavily on the wet ground. He watched you disappear in the dark, where the moon couldn’t touch the moss covered ground. Under his wolf form he took a few tentative steps, staying silent as he walked towards the place where your shift had occurred.
Your clothes still on the ground, smelled strongly of you for his wolf senses. He heard you howling again and turned his head in your direction. Mentally telling Sam about what he had just witnessed.
The alpha arrived, cautiously sniffing your clothes. That way they could recognise you if they crossed your path one day.
-
You spend the next day in pain, curled up on your bed. The pain had persisted even after you had shifted back and retrieved your clothes. The walk back to your house annoyingly painful but alas the cold rain drenching you allowed your mind to relax a little and to cool down.
During the next few days you only wanted to skip work and stay curled up in bed. Painkillers only worked for a few hours before the pain came back again, so you quite literally looked like a junky. But you had to go anyway, the rent of the house wouldn’t pay itself.
All day your colleagues would throw weird glances your way, and whisper amongst themselves, thinking they were being discreet. But you could hear them, they hushed tones as if they were speaking of some ancient secret. You didn’t really care, all you could think about was the pain taking over your body.
You could hide it most days, but sometimes it was too much and you looked so sick people started to throw worried glances at you. One day your boss sent you home early and told you to take the reminder of the week to get back on your feet.
So you took his advice and tried to rest, but you knew there was nothing to be done. The pain would always be here.
Your doorbell brought you back to the present, it was Bella. She hadn’t heard from you in a while and was worried when you showed up looking like a sick puppy at the front door.
“Hey, what’s up? You look like you haven’t slept in days.” And you just shrugged softly. So she grabbed your hand and dragged you to her truck. you barely had time to grab a flannel jacket. She drove to the reservation, a place you only had heard of through her and Charlie and Jacob. She said it would be good to breathe some fresh air, would probably make you feel better. You doubted but indulged her.
“It’s high time you finally come visit this place and make some more friends. Besides, it's a bit lame to only hangout with single dads to watch baseball.” She said. “So you’re saying you’re lame?” You retorted, and she was happy to see that your humour was intact.
Once at the beach of La Push, she parked beside a black truck and you both walked on the sand. The silence was comfortable, and sometimes you both would talk about anything and everything. You liked Bella, it was easy to be around her even if it had been a bit awkward at first.
There was something you couldn't quite shake tho, it was a strange smell, and you could swear it was coming from Bella. But it wasn’t strong enough for you to actually identify it so you decided to let the thought go.
After some time, you both decided to sit down, using a log of wood to rest your back. You groaned while moving to sit down, Bella shooting you a weird look. You pretended not to notice her in the corner of your vision, but you could see her brow knitted together in worry.
“I know you’re a little bit older than me, but not that much,” She tried to land a joke and you only huffed a laugh, half smiling. “What’s up with you lately?” She asked still, but you could sense the hesitation in her voice.
Before you could answer you both turned your head toward voices coming your way. A group of young men and teenagers walking shirtless and barefoot and you thought it was strange, they should be cold.
But then you looked at yourself and the beads of sweat on your forehead. You would gladly take your jacket off, even though you had chosen to wear a light one, but you didn’t want to worry Bella anymore. The weather was cold for her, with a little wind picking up from the sea and the grey clouds blocking out the sun, you could see her shivering.
She stood up to greet one of the guys, Jacob and you did the same since you had been hanging out with him on occasions.
“Hey! wow,” he grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at you like you had something on your face. You stared back and smiled slowly. “Hey sorry, think i’m coming down with something.” You offered the only plausible answer you could muster.
“Jake,” One of the other guys said beside him, a weird look on his face. Jacob looked at him and then back at you. Letting his hands fall from your shoulders you could feel something in the air had shifted. A gust of wind shook around you, your hair dancing in the cool breeze and you welcomed its fresh sensation on your hot skin.
And that’s when it hit you. A very specific scent, something of pine needles and wet dog. You sniffed the air a bit more loudly than you meant to, looking around for a dog walking on the beach or something. But upon seeing nothing around you, your gaze landed back on the group of young men in front of you. They were staring at you.
A part of you knew what you had just smelled, but another part of you wanted to deny it all together. You took a step back at the same time as one of the other guys. Suddenly he looked as sick as you, or more like he was going to faint. Jacob and the two other guys looked at his friend with concern. They all exchanged glances while you and Bella hovered on the side, watching it unfold.
“Paul? You okay?” Jacob puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder and when said Paul faltered backward, Jacob and another guy caught him by the arms. And your eyes met Paul’s.
And then you felt something else. A weird warmth spreads inside of you, wrapping its tendril around your ribcage. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt like you were suffocating suddenly, and you thought you were going to shift again, right then and there. Fear making its way to you, making you start to panic a little.
You couldn’t bear the sweat sticking on your skin anymore and took off your jacket in a swift movement, letting it fall to the ground. You didn’t care if it worried Bella, you needed to cool down. You were left in just your long sleeves. Bending down, hands on your knees to try and steady yourself while you try to breathe. And sure enough Bella gasped and almost forcefully put your jacket back on your shoulders but you shrugged it off. You took a few paces and passed your hands in your hair. You couldn’t focus on anything. All you could hear was Paul’s ragged breathing and all you could see was his eyes glued to you.
And all of a sudden Paul turned on his heels and ran away, his friends right behind him. Jacob mustered a half apology before running after them. You were left alone on the beach with a shivering Bella. You told her you should both get back home and she hurriedly agreed.
You didn’t see her for a few days after that. Not that it was the first thing on your mind at the moment. You were still feeling a little weird from the beach encounter and the sensation that had washed over you that day. And the smell. It was a distinctive smell, and you knew now that you had already smelled it around Jacob.
daryl with a stoner gf would be adorable I love ur work eeek 💕💕
⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Lucky Day
⌇daryl dixon x stoner!reader
⌇summary: you find a bag of weed after months of not smoking some. you and daryl get high and get…𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂
⌇warnings: weed use, oral sex (f receiving), soft high sex
⌇word count: 8.2k
a/n i absolutely saw the vision here and i hope i did this justice (i don’t smoke or anything of that sort so i tried my best to make it accurate 🫰)
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❀ ⋆｡˚ ˚｡⋆❀
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Back in Atlanta, things were bad…just but not bad enough to quit smoking.
And you didn’t mean cigarettes. You meant your stash. A miracle box of tightly rolled joints in a baggie, wrapped up in a scarf at the bottom of your duffel. You’d brought it when you fled the city thinking it’d all blow over soon, and in those first weeks, you smoked like you were trying to get high enough to escape the world entirely. Sitting on top of the RV, legs crossed and clouds floating out of your mouth while people whispered and side eyed but said nothing.
They didn’t understand. But Daryl, Daryl didn’t either, and he said something. Not in a judgy way, more like “That shit ain’t good for ya,” as he lit up another cigarette. You raised a brow. “Mmm, okay, Dixon. Go suck on your cancer stick then.” He snorted, but didn’t push it.
Eventually, the girls had asked you politely to stop smoking around them. So you had. You weren’t cruel. You knew some people were grieving, anxious, holding onto control by their fingernails, and you? You were just trying to float through it without panicking. You still smoked, but you’d hide away, perched on the roof of Dale’s RV with the moon for company.
Then Lori got pregnant.
And you stopped cold. Not because anyone asked, but because it felt wrong. You didn’t need it anymore. You had Daryl. You had hope. And after all that time, your stash had finally run dry.
Two years later, the world had shifted—even more if that was possible. Alexandria. Safety. Soft clothes and soap and patrol shifts on rotation. You and Daryl had been assigned a two-week supply run with just the two of you, and it was your favorite kind of alone time, long, quiet roads and long, quiet nights in sleeping bags zipped together.
You’d been walking in a field outside an abandoned strip of homes when you spotted the trailer. Metal door swinging on one hinge.
You turned to Daryl. “Be right back.”
He was halfway in the trunk of the car, digging through the last crate. “What?”
“I said be right back!” you called, and then you were already running, boots crunching on dry grass as the little metal trailer came into view.
Inside, it was dusty and stale, but untouched. A couch. A kitchen. Some water bottles. And in a box under the sink—
You were grinning wide, holding the bag like it was treasure when the door flew open behind you.
SLAM.
Daryl burst through with his crossbow raised, breath ragged. “The hell?! You don’t just run off like—”
You turned, held up the bag, and grinned brighter. “It’s our lucky day.”
He froze. Blinking at you. Then down at the bag.
Then he groaned and dragged a hand over his face.
“Oh my God,” you laughed. “Look at this! Untouched! Probably a whole ounce!”
“I thought you were in trouble,” he growled, stepping in. “You scared the shit outta me.”
You walked over, still grinning. “C’monnn baby! Look It’s perfectly sealed. And you’re always so tense.” You pulled out one joint. “Let’s celebrate. Just a little?”
“I told ya,” he muttered, slinging his bow on his back, “shit don’t work on me.”
You were already fishing out your lighter, perching on the faded armrest. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so boring.”
He smirked, arms crossed. “Ain’t boring. Jus’ ain’ stupid.”
“Oh please. You smoke cigarettes like they’re air. And you’re worried about weed?”
He opened his mouth, closed it, rolled his eyes. “You ain’t gonna listen to me anyway.”
You lit the joint and took a deep inhale. Sweet and sticky. Homey. You exhaled and let your head fall back with a slow, happy sigh.
“Fuuuuck.”
Daryl watched you, annoyed. Or maybe charmed. Hard to tell with that face.
You took another hit, then stood, stepping close to him. He looked down at you with a huff.
“You’re so sexy when you give me that look.” you whispered, leaning in—and then kissed him, open-mouthed, slow, as you blew the smoke past his lips.
He coughed. Caught it in his throat, pulled back with a scowl, and then blinked, eyes soft.
“What the hell,” he rasped.
You smiled smugly. “Mmm. What was that, Dixon? Didn’t work?”
His eyes flicked to the joint in your hand. Then your mouth.
“Gimme that.”
Twenty minutes later, you were both laid out on the trailer floor, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
“…Why the hell the ceiling movin’ like that?”
You snorted. “It’s not.”
“I swear it is.”
“It’s not baby.”
“…Shit.”
He rolled over to look at you, red eyed and slow. His hair had gone fluffy from the heat, and his cheeks were pink. “This is your fault.”
“Mhm.”
He reached out to touch your wrist. Light. Barely a brush. “You’re really pretty.”
You turned toward him. “You’re really pretty.”
“Yeah?” he asked, half laughing. “I got like—scratches on my face.”
“Apocalyptic scars,” you whispered, scooting closer. “They make you even hotter.”
He swallowed hard. “Think you’re the only person who’s ever said that to me.”
You blinked. “That’s the weed talking.”
“Nah.” He tucked a hand behind your head. “It’s me talkin’. Weed just made it easier.”
You leaned in, kissed him slow. “How you feelin’?”
He smiled lazily. “Floatin’. You?”
You kissed him again. “High and horny.”
“Yeah?” he whispered, dazed. “That’s my girl.”
You ended up on the old couch, tangled in each other.
You were straddling his lap, shirt half off, hands in his hair while he kissed you like you were spun from honey. His hands traced over your back, then forward to cup your breasts—gently, reverently.
“Always want ya like this,” he whispered, mouth warm against your collarbone.
“You’re just stoned.”
“I’m always wantin’ you.” He kissed lower, down your chest, kissing over the fabric. “This just makes me say it out loud.”
You giggled, high and warm. “Yeah, baby?”
He pulled your shirt up fully and kissed one breast, then the other. “Mhm.”
You felt like you were melting.
“You’re so soft,” he mumbled. “So good.” His mouth found your nipple and sucked slow, lips plush and reverent. You gasped.
“Daryl…”
He groaned. “Love you like this. Love every part’a you.”
He rolled his hips up, and you moaned, grinding down against him, dizzy with pleasure and heat and the buzz of it all.
The sex was slow, sweet, a little sloppy. You rode him with your head tipped back, his hands on your waist, both of you giggling and moaning and whispering how much you loved each other like it was gospel.
You came first, trembling, whispering his name. He followed, face pressed to your chest, holding you like a lifeline.
After, you both lay there, sweaty and still stoned, limbs tangled and sticky and stupidly in love.
“I wanna find more trailers,” you mumbled.
Daryl snorted. “Just for the weed?”
“No,” you whispered, nose against his neck. “For you. For this. For everything.”
He kissed your forehead, smiling. “Yeah, alright. Let’s find a whole damn trailer park.”
A revolution of hearts - Haymitch Abernathy fanfic part 3
Haymitch Abernathy x f!reader
part 3!
Masterlist
Previous part next part (upcoming)
At the next meeting Haymitch doesn’t let you go alone. He sticks to you, walks beside you, opens the door to the room for you, where a few patrons are already seated. All are sipping on some drinks, and as soon as the door closes behind Haymitch a waitress presents you both with a silver plate upon which rests glasses of champagne.
Haymitch doesn’t even look at it, he puts his hand in the small of your back and guide you with him toward the bar, where he pours himself a glass of the famous golden liquid that seems to never leave his hand.
He offers you a glass, but you decline politely. You watch him as he watches the room intently. The rich patrons are all busy talking with each other, eating delicacy from the overflowing buffet or dancing to the music. They might as well be talking about the weather or the latest death in the current Games, their facial expressions never shift more than necessary. Eveything so perfect.
Too self-centered to think too much, to let their thoughts be occupied with more than small talk. They’re used to this lifestyle and you find it revolting. But you know there is nothing you can do. At least not now. Maybe one day, maybe, you will be able to help resist this oppression and its tyrant and build a new world.
You don’t dare dream too big but you do indulge yourself from time to time. Letting your thoughts run wild and free, faraway into the future. A future that you will probably never live to see.
You focus your attention on Haymitch. It’s the only way you find to keep your composure and not run away right then and there. Somehow his presence grounds you, and at this moment you don’t question it. You let it be, you let the feeling wash over you.
Haymitch offers you his arm and you gladly accept it. Clutching to him like a kid too afraid of the world aroud her.
You walk like that slowly through the room. It’s not too pacted like would be an official party, but still the atmosphere is bustling all around. Like little bees buzzing around and never stopping.
“Don’t these people ever get tired?”
Your voice is low enough for only Haymitch to hear. He doesn’t look at you, but shrug slightly his shoulders. “They grew up like that. Just like we grew up in the districts, used to the dirt and the hunger. and the fear.”
His words are like a blow to your stomach. You swallow with difficulty as you witness two women drinking something from a small vial and heading hurryingly toward the restroom.
You heard rumors about these people’s methods of… enjoyment. It makes you want to puke your empty stomach on the pretty carpeted floor.
Someone audibly gasps, probably louder than required, therefore drawing the attention of the people around. Murmurs echo under the music, faint but distincts. You hear them as clearly as if they were talked directly to your ear.
Haymitch turns his head toward you, leaning slightly to whisper, “Here we go,” Before a storm of voices suddenly replace the murmurs.
“District Twelve Victors!” Someone almost say louder than the music.
“Together!”
“Haymitch Abernathy.” A masculine voice rises higher than the other around you. Suddenly Haymitch’s face shape into something resembling a smile and you think it might truly be the first time you even see him smiling from ear to ear.
“They do form a ravishing duo! Do you think they’re together?”
"Do they think we're deaf or something, or are they really stupid?" you ask yourself in your head.
He let go of your arm to welcome a tall man with broad shoulders and dark skin.
“How is my old friend?” the man asks, and then looks at you. “And look who is a lucky man tonight!” The tall man lets out a loud laugh and you swear you can see Haymitch’s shoulders shake in a slight laughing motion.
You don’t have the time to say anything, Haymitch’s friend, as funny as that sounds, lunges towards you and trap you in a bear hug.
The wind is knocked out of your lungs by the sheer force of this man’s arms crushing.
And again you swear you can see Haymitch trying to hide a fit of laughter.
The night goes on without any incident, but you can’t help your nerves to be a wreck. You fidget a lot, trying to hide it with drinks and food.
Your fidgeting only intensify when you momentarily lose Haymitch in the mass of extravagant dresses and costumes for a moment. You chug down a couple of drinks to try and calm yourself. It only results in your head becoming heavy and light at the same time. The room starts to spin.
You try to find your way out of this room, you’re suffocating. Your clothes feels too tight, the air doesn’t fill your lungs. You think you are going to collapse when a small circle of curious people glue themselves to you.
You hear their voices, muffled sounds, you try to answer their questions but your brain is lacking oxygen. You can’t think at all, the only thought going around in your mind at that moment is to get out of there.
A distinct feeling washes over you. A feeling you would rather not experience again. Taking you back to a certain arena a few years ago. The feeling of being trapped.
Suddenly a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the circle. Your head is too fuzzy from the alcohol and anxiety coursing through your veins.
You let the person pull you away, merely thinking it might be Haymitch coming to save you. Or maybe not. But you don’t pull away, you don’t react. You’re too out of it. You don't notice the costume is not Haymitch's. Nor the haircut.
And then you find yourself climbing a flight of stairs you don’t even remember seeing upon entering the room a couple of hours ago.
Your free hand trails over the railing, the wood cool under your fingertips until you feel another hand, warm and calloused closing on your wrist.
You’re as shocked at the other person pulling you up the stairs, stopping short on your feet. A bit wobbly.
Haymitch walks up a few more steps and grab you by your forearm this time. Throwing daggers with his eyes at whoever is pulling you in the other direction.
“Alright, show’s over.” He simply says and pull you toward him, his other hand coming to rest gently on your hips. then on your lower back, guiding you.
“It’s okay, I got you now,” you hear him whispering in your ear. His breath fanning over your skin. You don’t remember how you got to your bed. You’re afraid you embarrassed yourself.
You spend the next day in bed, nursing a bad headache. Both from crying and the alcohol. Again. You start to notice a pattern, and you are not really sure what to think of it.
Effie brings you food and water, but it stays untouched.
Eventually sometimes in the evening Haymitch comes to see you.
He sits on the edge of the bed, you feel the mattress dip a little and your feet sliding toward him.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
His voice is so soft you think you imagine it. “You gonna get up and come eat something.”
It sounds half way like an order and half way like an advice. Like he is concerned for your wellbeing. Which still surprises you, because you’re not used to this side of him.
You’re more used to his drinking habits and sarcastics comments, his smug smile and wink he sometimes throws your way as if flirting with death itself. You’re used to his clothes being wrinkled from falling asleep anywhere he can and his hair being a mess.
“Do you really want to make me do this, uh?”
Your eyes still half closed, you lift your head a little and peak over the duvet to stare at his face. Yours is blank from any expression.
But still you wonder what he mean.
“Okay then, guess it’ll be that way.” And he doesn’t even give you time to process his words and their meaning. Hi lean in and grab you over the blanket, get up and throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
You’re slightly insulted from being carried like that, but you also find it funny. If you had half your mind awake you would probably say something.
Doors open and close behind you, your only view being Haymitch’s feet moving.
He drops you, dressed in your blanket burrito, in the dining room. The smell of warm food coming to your nose.
And your stomach betray you and let out a growl
You turn your head away from haymitch so he can’t see the grimace you make.
“Come on then,” Effie’s voice encourages you. She seats on a velvet covered chair, her makeup and hair done as always. You must make a stark contrast with your bed hair, bare face and pajamas.
“You need your strength. Can’t have you sent back to your District looking worse than when you embarked on the train weeks ago, can we?” Effie’s voice is too high pitched for your head, still slightly pounding.
It was a rhetorical question of course. But the sense of her sentence echoed in your ears.
Effie was just doing her job, keeping the image of the Capitol shiny and untouched by the dirt and grime of the Districts.
A few days later you were back at a somewhat normal pace. The hours just blurring together, blending into days, just passing by one after the other.
You are back in you house in Victor Village, silence deafening after the lullaby of the train.
You find your way to your couch more often than your bed. You don’t know what you’re afraid of but being near the exit brings you more comfort– even tho still not enough– than being upstairs trapped.
That’s how you feel. Trapped. This entire life, these games, your win that isn’t really a win. Not yours anyway. It’s the Capitol’s win because now they control you even more.
You avoid going out as much as possible. Talking to no one and avoiding any eye contact when going to the market.
You barely eat anyway so you don’t need much. You end up reaching for the bottle more often than for real food. Finding solace– or so to speak– in the golden liquid you so often saw Haymitch drink.
You understand him now even more than after your win. You get why he folded in on himself, didn’t allow anyone to get too close, didn’t attach himself to his tributes for years. Didn’t fully invest in his role as a mentor. It’s taxing, too exhausting. You risk losing yourself in the process. And you fear it has already started.
So without really understanding it, you start loosing yourself at the bottom of the bottle.
Because when you look in the mirror, you don’t know what you’re looking at anymore. You don’t know who you are. Not that you ever cared and tried to put a label on yourself. Because even before the games you didn’t have your own identity. You were a ghost, floating around.
One day while you are staring relentlessly at an empty bottle, your head resting in your arms on your knees, you heard three knocks against your front door.
Getting up slowly from the ground, you didn’t really believe anyone would want to come visit you. It surely wasn’t your family.
You squinted against the sudden aggressive sunlight. Haymitch’s figure just a dark shadow in your vision. You blinked a few times to accommodate.
He was standing there, a glass in one hand, and something that looked strangely like a pie in the other. You didn’t bother asking any question and stepped aside to let him in.
You closed the door behind him and turned to look at his back. He was studying the place like he didn’t have the exact same house across the small dirt path. Like he was trying to find clues on who you were and why you were here. Same buddy.
Eventually he turned around and faced you, “Rise and shine, sweetheart!”
He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You didn’t reply, your arms crossed over your chest, leaning against the door.
“Well well, is that how you welcome your neighbors?”
No response again. Your mouth was sealed shut from days of not using your voice.
He turned around and walked toward the kitchen, and you caught him say something like “Real ray of sunshine this one.”
He put the pie on the counter, obviously he wouldn’t put his drink down, would he.
Rummaged through your kitchen drawers looking for a knife and forks.
“Left drawer,” You said slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. He made a motion toward you and went to fetch the cutlery in the left drawer.
“At last, she speaks!” A pause.
“I don’t suppose you have plates?” He asked you, turning around and taking a swing of his drink.
You nodded toward the cabinet behind him. “You get it, my hands are full already,” he said as he picked up the pie and gestured with his glass.
You reluctantly grabbed two plates and the cutlery he had dumped on the counter. Following him toward the living room as he settled on the couch. You put the plates on the side table in front of him and sat on the carpet on the floor.
Staring at him while he cut the pie and put a slice in each plate.
“Bon appétit!”
You just stare at your slice, then back at him. Slowly you pick up the fork and start eating.
He watches you between sips of his drink and bites of the pie.
He can feel the gears turning inside your head as if they were making noises outside of your head.
“Spit out, sweetheart.”
Your hand freeze mid-air at his words.
“Not the damn pie,” He let out a chuckle but you might as well have imagined it.
“What’s on your mind.”
It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Somehow he knows there is something wrong.
You drop the fork and swallow your bite.
“What is this for?” you nod slightly toward the plates. The sweetness of the pie lingers on your tongue, sweetening your thoughts and maybe your words. You don’t want to make him your enemy by being unnecessary mean just because you’re not in the mood.
“Got it at the bakery.”
His answer shocks you as much as it shocks him. You didn’t portray him as the type of man leaving the comfort of his couch and bottles of alcohol to go fetch a pie and eat it with his only neighbour.
“You got out to the bakery?” Your words sound stunned. Because you are.
He looks at you like you just insulted him, mulling over a sarcastic reply undoubtedly. So you go ahead of him.
“I mean it’s still better than what I imagined.” Your tone slightly innocent, but still sarcastic. A small smile tugging at your lips.
His face doesn’t move, “Yeah? And what did you imagine?”
You fain innocence again, sweetening your voice a little. “Oh I don't know. Just you trying to cook a pie with a cute apron on and flour on your nose looked very cute in my mind.”
You take another bite from your plate.
He chuckled lightly, almost a phantom of a shuckle.
“So you saying I can’t cook?”
You look up from the plate and just shrug your shoulders.
“You’re insulting me, sweetheart.” He points his fork at you to get his point across and take a swing of his glass.
“i would never.” You smile nicely. Cockily.
“You could be a damn good actress, you know.”
You laugh at his remark and try to change the trajectory of the conversation. You do not want to sit there and mul over what ifs and stupid dreams.
“What’s the occasion, old man? Is it your birthday today? Is that it? Getting older?” You tease playfully. Somehow talking to someone helps a little with getting your mind off of whatever it had been ruminating all week.
“You wished. Went to the platform earlier, walked passed the bakery and saw this pie. It looked very lonely in that window.”
You hum around another bite and his eyes find your face.
“Couldn’t leave it all alone.” He shrugs.
You laugh. A shy but somewhat real laugh, because this is the lamest excuse you’ve ever heard and it sounds so silly you almost want to believe it.
“You can say the truth you know.”
He rises an eyebrow at this, encouraging you to continue.
“That you just so desperately wanted to visit your favourite neighbor.” You offer him with a smile.
Haymitch doesn’t think he ever saw you smile that much ever since the day your name was drawn at Reaping day.
He clears his throat, as if suddenly a lump had taken hold of his voice. He averts his eyes, staring at the now empty plate.
“It’s your birthday.”
He just announces flat out, without warning. You freeze again. Not really knowing what to say or do. You know damn well what day it is, even tho you tried forgetting really hard. You even considered bashing your head against a wall.
“Read it in your file.” He just explain.
Your mouth feels dry like you swallowed a spoonful of ashes.
He notices how uncomfortable you look and he gets it. He hates his birthday too.
“And seeing how much of a creature of the night you’ve become.” He gestures to your house, “Living solely in your cave and never visiting anyone. And also how much you bloody radiate anxiety across the street, I thought…” I thought this would be nice to share.
“Did you take pity on me? After what happened back at the Capitol?” You ask him, a sharp reminder of an experience you would gladly erase from your memory forever.
He leans back in his seats on the couch, his hand fidgeting with the empty glass on his leg.
“You gotta understand that the Capitol is not a nice place, sweetheart and-”
“No kidding. I noticed a long time ago, not thanks to your help by the way.”
It stings. The words hit like a hammer against your skull. You don’t know if you regret them or not. Maybe a bit of both. You drop your head.
“Sorry I didn’t mean.. I’m sorry.” Your voice dies on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.
“I get it. I failed you from the moment your name was Reaped. But this,” He gestures between the two of you and then the whole room, “This, all of it, links us now. And what happens in the Capitol is both our concern.”
You stare at him, not knowing what to say while he continues his monologue.
“D’you really think that once you become a victor of the Capitol you get to be left alone and live a nice sweet little life?” His tone has shifted, and you can taste bitterness building up in the air. You curse at yourself silently.
He raises his glass mi-air as if he was about to drink from it, then looks at it half-heartedly remembering it is now empty. His arm falls back onto the arm of the couch with a thud as he huffs in frustration.
“Well I don’t know what delusions you’ve been feeding yourself here, locked up with yourself but ding dong! sweetheart,” He snaps his fingers twice in the air before you. “This is a giant circus and we’re all the clowns in the middle playing out little roles for the Capitol and its beloved people to see. They watch us. No one has it easy once they’ve won. No one.”
A revolution of hearts - Haymitch Abernathy fanfic part 2
Haymitch x f!reader
previous part
masterlist
warning: this part comes with a mention of attempted sa, proceed at your own risks, and take care if you do read that part. Nothing graphic tho.
The day had started on the wrong side, just like the way you went to bed the night prior. Your head was pounding, from crying all night and from drinking too much. Your throat felt dry and sharp, like you swallowed shards of glass in your sleep.
Reluctantly you drag your legs from under the covers, the floor too cool under your already freezing feet. You get in the shower, hoping the scalding hot water might wash away the remnant of the night, the taste of alcohol and the sting of tears.
It doesn’t. Your skin still red from the too hot water, clothes picked up randomly from the drawers you make your way to the breakfast table. Silently you sit down around the mahogany table, and wait a few seconds for your tea to infuse to colour the water in the mug.
Effie and Haymitch are already seated, eating toast and eggs and whatever else the table is filled with. it makes you sick, the opulence of the Capitol. The opulence of the people, their distaste for the other districts.
You just sit there, your hands curled around the teacup. It’s too hot, it hurts your skin but you don’t move, you let the pain ground you. It’s a minor pain really, you had worse, but in that moment it’s all you need to take your mind off of the real world and disappear far away.
Haymitch clears his throat, making Effie look up from whatever she was reading on her tablet. She eyes him, the you and him again. She exhales loudly and stands up, clearly reading the tension in the room and deciding it is none of her business. The room fell silent after her departure, her footsteps light on the marble floor.
Haymitch has his eyes on you, unmoving, unwavering. You don’t notice, too far gone in your daydream. Trying to escape the dull fate awaiting you in the real world, shackled to the Capitol like a puppet on a string.
He drops his coffee mug– undoubtedly filled with more than just coffee– loudly on the table, tearing your attention away from the clouds.
You turn your head slowly toward him, your eyes tired, slightly closed like you’re squinting at the too bright light in the room.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” he says, his tone half-sarcastic, half-concerned. He doesn’t really know why he cares even in the slightest, but he does.
You don’t answer, not immediately, your eyes scanning his face like he is some ancient statue in a museum you have to keep quiet around or else he’ll curse you forever. He swat a wild strand of hair from his face with his hand.
You inhale sharply, averting your gaze. You are not ready for this conversation.
And yet, Haymitch doesn't seem to want to back down either.
The urge to flip him off and storm out of the room corsses your mind, but apparently so does he.
“You can’t run away forever, sweetheart. We’re stuck on that train and here in this Capitol’s building for the rest of our miserable lives,” He almost spit the words out, then he takes a long gulp of his more-than-just-coffee.
“Might as well cooperate with your only ally here.”
You scoff, not loudly but enough for him to hear it. He crosses his arms over his chest and lean back in his chair. Asking again.
“What’s wrong, c’mon.”
You swallow hard, not looking at him.
“Our second tribute died yesterday. Skull crushed by a Career.”
You risk a glance at him, from the corner of your eye. He doesn’t flinch at the news, doesn’t look any more sad than he usually does. It stunts you, how easy he take the news. But then again you remind yourself he has been playing this mentor game for far longer than you.
You fear that you might become like him one day. Cold hearted, no more tears to cry. Only alcohol and pathetic jabs of sarcasm thrown around like a defense mechanism.
You don’t blame him, though. You understand. You survived the games too, and you still don’t know how to keep going on with the weight and the blood of the people you killed to make it out alive.
Sometimes when you wake up from a nightmare, you can see it, faintly painting your hands in a bright shiny red colour. It makes you want to scream.
“What else.” He simply ask.
Your gaze lands on the table once more. Your hands fidgeting with your cuticles and one of your legs starts to bounce from nerves. You think to yourself that you’re such a pathetic liar.
“It’s not important. What matters is that we lost tributes. Again.”
That last word is sharper, colder and slightly louder. You didn’t intend to, or maybe you did.
It doesn’t startle him. As if he was waiting for you to start yelling from the moment you walked into the room.
“Snow…” The words catch in your throat, dry like sandpaper.
A crease forms on Haymitch’s brow. He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to continue at your pace.
“He… We talked yesterday.” You swallow hard again.
“You saw President Snow yesterday? When? Why?” The questions leaving his mouth faster than he intends to.
You still don’t look at him. But Haymitch can feel it. The sentence, the words that you will say next. He heard them too once before. He remembers how it had made his blood boil from frustration and anger.
“I have to meet some rich patrons soon.”
The sentence is pretty, the words nice and soft coming from you. But you can both taste the bitterness of what linger behind this revelation.
The sentence feels petty now. Like you shouldn’t have said it at all. Like the sky might fall on your head any moment now that it’s out in the open.
You don’t know what to expect from Haymitch. It’s not like he cared about your safety when you first embarked on this train. And despite him giving you a fighting chance by finding you sponsors in the arena, it didn’t change the fact he let you down as soon as you came back to the Tributes center.
Like he was ashamed of himself, ashamed of keeping you alive to witness the rest of your life in shiny Capitol’s shackles.
He ignored you for a year after you won the game. So you learnt the Capitol’s rules by yourself, Effie helped you as best she could. But the surviving part? That was Haymitch’s specialty.
He inhales, long and sharp. You see his hands curling around his mug, his knuckles becoming white. Maybe because he knows what I just announced really means.
“When?”
The question feels as sharp as your own words, but his tone is quiet, almost gentle. You can still hear an edge to his voice, like he is holding himself back. A part of you is not sure what that means.
“Last night. Tonight again.”
The answer hangs in the air like a bomb ready to explode at any given moment. You half expect him to storm out of the room or start yelling at you for speaking to Snow and meeting the Capitol’s most powerful people on your own. They’re dangerous people. But he does neither.
He huffs, slump even more in his chair and drinks his coffee like it’s definitely not coffee. A few seconds pass by in silence before he turns his head toward you.
You can’t look at him. You don’t want to look at him.
He can see it on your face, the way your brow kneet together in a pathetic attempt at keeping the tears behind your eyes. He only hopes nothing too bad happened. Because he knows there is no defying Snow. It’s a game you are certain to lose.
He knows he doesn’t really need to ask you, but does it anyway because he needs to hear it. He needs to hear you say it.
“Did anything happen?”
You bite your lower lip, a sob building up in your throat and Haymitch can feel it. But you shake your head no. You let it drop forward, your hair hiding your face like a curtain. Like it might shield you from whatever is out there.
Your hands are pressed together on the table, sticky from nervousness and anxiety.
“They tried…” The words dead in your mouth, tasting like ashes. “They tried to lead me to a room after the dinner.”
You pause as if to allow the words to evaporate in the air before continuing, like they might circle around you and strangle you if you say too much too fast.
“I didn’t drink from the cups they kept passing me.” Haymitch can hear you swallowing. He can’t, his throat is too dry to choke out a single word anyway.
“I played their game, mingled, told them what they wanted to hear, smiled and laughed at their deranged humour. I told them soon. I kept smiling and then I left.” A sob escapes your throat.
A revolution of hearts - Haymitch Abernathy fanfiction
Haymitch x f!reader
Masterlist
part 1
Next part
A loud bang! precedes heavy footsteps and startles Haymitch who is nursing a glass of a golden ember liquid near the giant windows overlooking the Capitol. The view from the penthouse is breathtaking, overlooking the city. Yet he turns and watches as you walk in the room with a certainty to your steps that Haymitch has rarely seen before.
Your heels clicked loudly on the marble floor, not a single time you falter like you have a target in mind already and won’t back down. You aim directly for the polished silver tray on a side table, grab one of the glass bottles and pour yourself a drink. A generous drink, by Haymitch’s standards. And that’s saying something.
His gaze follows your every movement, as you put the bottle back down and swallow the liquid in one motion. You don’t even flinch. And he is kind of impressed because the bottle you randomly chose actually contains the good stuff, as he calls it.
And his eyes follow your movements again as you pour yourself another glass, down it again like it’s nothing more but water. You take an inhale, pour a third glass, put the lid back on the bottle a little too violently and with your glass in hand you turn around.
Not a single look in his direction. To be honest Haymitch doesn't think you knew he was there to begin with. He had stayed so still and silent in the corner of the room that in your angry state you probably didn’t notice him at all. He chuckles slightly, but his brow furrows in slight concern still.
You don’t know each other well. Your name had been reaped only three years ago. And yet it felt like an eternity had passed.
No one truly cried for you when Effie announced your name through the microphone. No one to come and say goodbyes before taking off in the train. A train you knew damn well you would never get off of if you ever survived the games. If, keyword darling.
What hurt you the most that day, was that despite having what people call a family, no one had shown up to give you a hug or tell you to be strong. You had stayed silent and alone in the room.
Shrugging it off, allowing the pain to transform, to morph into something deeper, somber. You allowed yourself to store that feeling, to keep it caged inside of you.
Not too close that it would slip out without a warning, but not too far either that you couldn’t reach for it and use it to fuel your body and mind to help you survive. Because sadness never helped anyone go far.
Because the only thing that has kept you alive all these twenty years has always been anger and spite. You stayed in spite of the world being against you, in spite of your mother treating you like shit. In spite of your need to disappear from the surface of this world. A recurring thought. A tragic one that kept coming again and again almost every night when everything was silent and dark.
Sadness, loneliness, despair. They couldn’t keep you alive like anger could.
Haymitch hadn’t shown up in the train the first few days of the trip. You were left alone with your thoughts and the other tribute. Stuck with you in a train racing towards what was most likely to be your last day breathing. Eventually he had come on the last day, throwing advice like they were burning his tongue.
To you it felt like he had given up on you and the other tribute already, without even getting to know you and your abilities. The male tribute didn’t stand a chance according to you. He was too weak physically and kept avoiding your gaze at the table.
You had decided to keep to yourself then, but after a short while Effie had successfully clawed her way to your heart and you came to like her company. Begrudgingly. Despite her extravagant personality matching her outfit and character so well, she felt familiar somehow. It was an odd feeling. She taught you some things about the Capitol and the other Districts. And maybe in another lifetime, if she wasn’t escorting you to a certain death, you could be friends. Maybe.
When the cannon had echoed in the arena for the first time, you fought every instinct that told you to run far from the blood bath. Instead you forced your feet to run as fast as possible, dodging spears and knives, bodies falling and battling around you. Screams all around you.
You snatched everything you could find and carry and ran away without looking back once. You didn’t stop running until you couldn’t hear the battle raging, until your legs gave out beneath you and your throat and lungs burned from breathing.
Haymitch had been in the viewing room with everyone, as custom has it. A glass of something in hand, eyes half closed, like he was actually bored and didnt’ give a chance to his tributes.
He remembers when he slowly went from a limp mass on a couch to a body of nervousness and tension watching his tribute fight for her life. He remembers the feeling of guilt stinging in his chest where his heart was when he watched as you sliced your opponent’s throat open with a cry so full of rage that the entire viewing room fell silent.
He remembers looking around at the faces, all turned toward the giant screen on the wall. Everybody watching the girl from twelve wipe the blood from her knife with her bare hand.
At that moment, he felt something strangely foreign but also familiar. It scared him, scared him a lot but he unconsciously pushed the feeling aside and set his goal on getting you sponsors.
He spent all his time divided between watching you and sweet talking to ever rich patrons of Panem, trying to sell them the dream of the girl from twelve. He wasn’t sure he was half-convincing, but he wanted to try. Because he knew that if he didn’t it would mean he had already given up on you.
And a part of him couldn’t give up now, when you still hadn’t. When you were still fighting in that damn arena, giving it your all and everything. He thought if you were to come back– if you were ever to win these games– that you would come back with a hole in you and it would be your soul missing. Taken from you with violence and blood and tears.
His work had paid off and he was able to send you food or water. The arena you were stuck in was bare of any source of food and water, so that’s what he focused on giving you. He told himself he was giving you a chance, giving you time to survive long enough and hide that you wouldn’t have to kill. But another voice in his head told him he was only evading the inevitable. You would surely die like all the others.
And yet, you didn’t hide away, you didn’t run anymore. You fought every tribute that stood in your way. Everyone that showed any aggressivity toward you, you fought them and killed them without second thoughts. You didn’t allow it to affect you. You told yourself you could let it consume you later once you made it out alive.
Haymitch saw the look in your eyes. A look so dark it scared even himself. The blood didn’t scare you though, you were covered in it, dirt and branches sticking to you like you were a wild animal.
Back in the Capitol Haymitch was submerged with work, day and night. Rich citizens betting on you, patrons pulling strings and giving more money for Haymitch to you sponsors. They were fascinated with the Wild girl from twelve. That was how they all called you. The Wild. The Savage.
It’s not like you were eating their corpses after killing them, you barely touched them, only searching them for items you could use. You were just trying to survive a sick game created to entertain and punish.
Haymitch couldn’t believe what was happening. Maybe he wouldn’t be the lone victor of District twelve anymore. This thought was strange, and he didn’t know what to do with the feeling. Because he knew all too well what fate awaited you if you came back.
He knew all too well what the Capitol did with its Victors. And he hated it with all his being, but he decided to bury these thoughts deep and focus on the present moment. On his work. For the first time of his life after winning his games, he felt a somewhat sense of duty. A goal giving sense and meaning to his bleak existence.
And now standing in the penthouse of the training center for tributes, his glass almost empty in hand, looking at the door you had just slammed shut on your way out.
He could hear your heels clicking on the floor and a door slamming shut again.
Effie walked in the room not long after, some papers in hands, humming to herself as if everything was normal in the most perfect world.
Haymitch moved back to the window, overlooking the Capitol and sank back into his thoughts. Wondering how his life had changed in barely a few years.
He wasn’t the only victor from twelve now, the train ride to the Capitol less lonely. You were a pain in the ass at first, asking him questions. But you gave up, seeing as you couldn't get anything out of him after your win.
He still drank too much most of the days, passing out on any furniture he could find. But now the burden of being a mentor had fallen directly into your delicate and yet bloody hands and he was glad he could ditch this forced duty and stay in his room, drinking himself to death.
He wished he didn’t have to come all together though, but it had been made clear that the mentors were mandated to the Capitol. Whether or not they gave a damn about their tributes and tried to help them was entirely irrelevant.
Hours passed by and Haymitch stayed stuck inside his own mind, only shifting from the window to one of the couches. His drink still in hands, mostly empty. He was spiraling and couldn’t stop it.
Someone requested a part 2!! So this is part 2, here's part 1 :) my masterlist!
a little something for my favourite Winchester, because i wanted to continue this fanfic but i don't really know where this is going to go, so let's just roll with the flow!
The full moon was bright enough that night to illuminate in a pale glow the shining cars parked in the parking lot where y/n was standing, leaned back against the side of the Impala. Her arms crossed over her chest as goosebumps spread over her skin in the cool night breeze, she gazed at the stars barely twinkling above.
The faint thrum of the music surely blasting inside the bar where Sam and Dean were having drinks, echoed through the night air of the parking lot. They had finished a case a few hours ago and the brothers had decided to go celebrate, a little outing to release the tension and the thrill accumulated. The thrill, she never thought she would get used to hunting, fighting and killing monsters.
But she was. She didn’t know if she hated the fact, because maybe admitting it was making it feel a bit too real. Maybe she felt like killing monsters was slowly turning her into the very same monster she spent her time chasing. She inhaled slowly, closing her eyes, exasperated with her own thoughts. She exhaled as the music became louder for a second before disappearing again when someone opened and closed the door.
“Here you are!” Dean’s voice cut through the river of thoughts in her mind, waking her up from her haze. She opened her eyes and met his. The deep green of his stare was more piercing than usual, the moonlight making it appear brighter somehow. She was so lost in contemplating him that she forgot how to talk and just kept staring. Her breath caught up somewhere in her throat. His gaze was hypnotising, even more when she was tired and she let her defense down slightly. He always managed to get through them anyway.
“You okay?” Dean asked with his usual head tilt, brows furrowed a little. It was a little thing she had noticed him doing. His hand coming to rest on her shoulder broke the trance and brought her back to reality again. She blinked a few times, looked away before he could see how flustered she was by their proximity. Her body was memorizing the feeling of his hand on her shoulder and the warmth coming from it and sipping through her clothes. Sniffing at the cold air she could also smell his scent, his unique cologne. He only heard her letting out a sigh, she couldn’t let her feelings for him slip from the confines of her mind.
“Hey, you know you can talk to me, alright?” Dean took a step closer, almost trapping her in between his body and the car, his hand moved from her shoulder to the roof of the car. Her shoulder felt colder now. She could feel his breath fanning slightly on her face, and that was way too much proximity her mind could take at once even more so when tired and lifeless from finishing a hunt just a couple of hours ago.
She allowed her gaze to fall back into his and slightly shrugged at his question.
“Something’s bothering you?” He wouldn’t let it go until she clearly answered him and somehow that showed her that he cared. For how she felt. For her safety. She never doubted it, but after the event of the last hunt she started to feel like she was a weight for Dean and Sam. A part of her brain knew it wasn’t true but another part of her brain kept thinking that they would probably be better off without her. After all she got captured like a newbie hunter and they had to come save her. She would have never forgiven herself if something, anything, had happened to one of them.
“Just tired, that’s all.” She tried to answer honestly, keeping her tone neutral, but she was tired and her answer felt like an easy answer to Dean’s ears. It fell flat on her tongue and she thought anyone would interpret it as disappointment. She struggled to read his face, covered in shadows but still glowing in the pale light of the moon. She contemplated his freckles as she waited. He was studying her for a moment. He was waiting for her to say more. But her brain started overthinking without warning and she hated it.
It was not new, this overthinking thing but it got heavier when it was about him and her feelings that she desperately tried to conceal. She didn’t want to disappoint him in any ways, somehow she found herself seeking his attention and validation, but she knew that if she got too close he would probably pull away and she would regret ruining everything. And her thoughts were spiraling again.
Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stepping even closer, if that was possible. He ran a hand on his face while releasing a long exhale. “I can see it on your face, you know?” His other hand still rested on top of the car’s roof.
“See what?” she asked perplexed, her eyebrows raising in question.
“The gears turning in your mind. So, tell me what’s in this pretty head of yours?”
His tone was surprisingly gentle but still firm, letting her know he wouldn’t let her be until she told him the truth. She didn’t suspect before this moment that her behaviour had changed after the incident, but maybe it had and she hadn't noticed because she had been too caught up inside her own head.
“I.. I don’t know”, she let her sentence hang in the air between them, trying to find the right words to explain what was going on. Her gaze fell to the concrete under her boots. But not a single word came to her. She only had one impulse and she had to force her body not to act on it. Or maybe she should. What was the worst that could happen? Dean didn’t give her time to think, as he spoke again. His cologne overwhelmed her senses as a small gust of wind ruffled her hair.
“Don’t say that you don’t know, please. I’ve seen how you’ve been acting since the hunting incident. Something’s bothering you. So tell me.” His voice was gentler than usual and his brow furrowed in concern. He was standing so close to her, her senses assaulted with him and his scent and his eyes reflecting the moonlight– that’s when she let her body act before her brain could register it. With one small step she closed the gap and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Breathing in the smell of his cologne, her hands fisting his flannel in an attempt at keeping him right where he was standing. Grounding herself in the moment. She didn’t want him to move. Didn’t want him to leave.
He froze at first, not expecting this move. It took him a second to recover, but soon enough he wrapped his arms around her and propped his chin on top of her head. His eyes closed half-way, all his facial features relaxing at once. She felt his shoulders become less tense with every passing second they stayed like that. A part of her worried Sam might come look for them and disturb this moment of solace. As selfish as it sounds she wanted to stay like that forever, trapped in a bear hug, feeling safe and warm. She took a deep breath and allowed her shoulders to relax as well.
That’s when she noticed it– the noise inside her head had become a soft hum in the back of her mind and was slowly but surely going away. No more screaming voices echoing inside her mind. It felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she knew that if she pulled away, the noises would come back. She knew it was a strange thing and that if she tried to explain it she would probably fail.
It was like the world had gone silent and only remained Dean and his arms wrapped tightly around her. His scent and the rhythm of his heart beneath her ears on his chest. She thought she could stay like that forever, with this warm feeling inside of her and finally some peace of mind that wasn’t the result of too much alcohol or a joint or any other shity coping mechanism she had developed.
She tightened her hold on him and he felt it. Rubbing circle with his thumb on her shoulder. She felt his lips on her hairline, leaving a kiss there, before his chin was back in its original spot. When she peered up at the sky she saw the stars blinking from above. Like silent witnesses to this secret moment. A moment that felt too soft for the kind of people they were, for the kind of lives they lived.
this fic on ao3 if you rpefer to read over there :)
Dean Winchester x reader
summary: Dean comes to the rescue of his hunter friend (very very close friend), feelings are awoken but he’s got blood on his hands, and darkness in his mind, why would he be loved by anyone?
The room was dimly lit with just a few rays of sun making their way through the window panel on the damp stone wall, planks of rotten wood barricading the hole. A single lightbulb hung from the decaying ceiling, casting dark shadows in every corner, making the whole room look scarier. As Dean made his way through the corridors of the old abandoned factory, his knife ready to slice every obstacle on his path, his gun at his hips in case he needs it. His steps are sure, motivated, doubtless and focused on one thing; rescuing his favourite hunter in the whole damn world.
He relentlessly slices and cuts through anything that dare stand before him, streaks of blood painting his face, droplets smudged on his shirt. The knife gets slippery in his hands from all the blood but he never falters. And then when he rounds a corner, he finds an empty room, dimly lit by the sun shining outside. And it takes him less than a fraction of second to see the figure standing there cast in shadows but he knows. Against an old pillar, wrists bound to it with ropes. His feet move before his brain can register it, his hand clutching hard on his knife, his jaw is set in determination.
A noise behind him and the enemy is down before he can even blink, Dean’s knife tucked neatly between his eyes. When Dean turns he doesn't waste another second and gets his second knife out of his belt, cutting through the rope. The silhouette drops against him as soon as her bounds get loose. Dean’s hands coming to support her at her waist as she leans in, the exhaustion taking over her body. He supports her as they make their way toward the exit. They can still hear fighting sounds, grunts, gunshots, yelp as Sam keeps fighting.
Back in the car Dean lets Sam drive in silence to the motel as he holds the third hunter on the backseat. Her frame shivers as he takes his jacket off and wraps it around her shoulders. He hears her whispering in her drowsy state, her eyes moving under her eyelids, he fidget with her hair, gently brushing it away from her face as she rests upon his leg. He knows her sleep won’t be a good one, she will feel as if she didn't sleep at all for days, and maybe it will be the case. Dean knows that feeling too much.
At the motel he helps her take off her shoes and clothes, gives her one of his t-shirts to wear as he puts her to bed with soothing words and caresses. She grasps at his hand with force when he starts, making a motion to stand up. He gets it, hell he himself doesn't want to leave her even for a second. So he takes off his boots and clothes as well, and slides under the covers with her. She holds onto him like he is her lifeline, the warmth of his body keeping her alive. The metallic scent of blood mixed with gunpowder and his aftershave. It's almost soothing. He holds her until she falls asleep, and even long after, stroking her back gently, running his thumb in circles on her cold soft skin.
Blood still paints his features and he knows the more he waits to wash it off, the harder it will be but he cannot make his body let go of her. Now that he has her back and safely tucked in his arms he won’t let her go. His jaw clenches at the notion he almost lost the only woman he truly ever loved without even telling her of his feelings first. A part of him hopes that she knows, but another part of him wants to make sure, wants to look her in the eyes and tell her how much she means to him and that he’d rather die than lose her.
His eyelids droop lazily as his thoughts take him to a near perfect future where they are together, happy and never leaving each other’s side. He thinks back on all the moments, no matter how small, they had shared. A wink and cheeky smile at the bar, his eyes intensely trained on hers whenever he looked at her, making her cheeks blush, his fingers lightly brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, thei fingertips brushing against each other while exchanging a book when doing researches. He fell asleep like that, a small smile graces his lips despite the furrow of his brow. A stark contrast that shows the divide conflict of his joy of having her back and his fear of losing her.
Sam chuckles lightly as he opens the door, food in one hand and drinks in the other, at the vision of his brother and the girl he hopes will soon be his brother’s girlfriend. And maybe more one day.
The horizon of Dawn - a walking dead universe fanfic - chapter 4
twd x f!oc!
previous chapters: part 1 , part 2, part 3
the masterlist :)
The city during the night turned out to be far more scarier than during the day. The street lights were off which made it difficult to navigate the labyrinth of streets. Dawn thought twice that if they’d got lost again she'd blow her own head off. Merle was walking beside her silently, only cursing when it seemed they’d lost their route. After what seemed to be an eternity, but truly only lasted a couple hours, they finally got out of the city and found their way back to the road leading to the quarry. Thankfully the moon was full that night, and allowed them to see the signs that indicated the right way.
Dawn didn't know how they did it, but they successfully dodged every crowded street and ran into only a few geeks, quickly and quietly taking care of them with a knife or other sort of improvised weapons.
The duo was now quietly walking on the dirt road leading to the campsite, Dawn gazed at the stars when she noticed the sun was about to rise. The horizon already turning from ink dark to a dark blue, then to a light orange. She quickly glanced at the man walking slightly before her. She wasn’t the most talkative person, preferring the calm at a meaningless conversation, and so over the years before the outbreak she learnt to be observant and to listen– even when she shouldn’t. She had to admit eavesdropping at a campsite was a lot easier than anywhere else, especially when everybody knows each other from the beginning of the apocalypse.
One day she heard the women talking while they were all doing laundry, they were talking about their love life before the outbreak when they suddenly started to whisper about the men of the camp. Dawn felt like fifteen again, in school listening to the other girls rating the boys and vice versa. It had seemed so weird at the time, but now, hearing those women doing it so freely, it almost made her smile. Obviously everyone had their own opinion, and they couldn’t stop laughing at one another when Andrea confessed she had eyed Shane quite a few times already. Of course she has. Since she arrived Dawn had felt weird when around Andrea, there was something about the blond woman that set her off but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. That woman’s energy felt a lot like someone Dawn had known, and it wasn’t someone she wanted to meet again. Toxic people…
Lori gave Andrea a nod and laughed with the others, Carol made an approving sound and Amy elbowed her sister playfully. Sometimes Dawn wished she could be like them, lovely and caring and not shy and awkward. She never had many friends, only one had lasted over the years, but then it had stopped. For a time the girl had asked herself why, but she didn’t do it anymore. It led nowhere to dwell that much on the past and on regrets. And yet that was what filled her nightmares somehow.
Watching her shoes kick up dust as they climbed the road slowly, Dawn exhaled loudly. Georgia's heat was already looming over their heads and she was more thirsty than she had been after eating the crackers. Maybe the peanut butter wasn’t a good idea after all.
During her little eavesdropping session while continuing to help silently with the laundry, she heard the women continue with their little ranking-rating. To stay on that subject that long they must’ve been really bored. But Dawn guessed she would be too, if she had spent a whole month with the same people at the same place non-stop. She couldn’t quite remember everything they had said, but she knew they went over every man present at camp.
In the grand scheme of things, speculating over who had a thing for who seemed meaningless and useless. Still, it was entertaining and it helped pass the time faster. And she’d bet the men didn’t restrain themselves either.
Soon the duo arrived near the camp and they could see someone on the RV’s roof keeping watch. According to the light reflection that caught her eye, Dawn knew they had been spotted and were now watched by the survivors. She called out to Merle, “Think we got fans.” He first turned around to look at her, and then turned his head to see what she was pointing out. Spotting the RV too, he hummed in agreement. The person on duty keeping watch must have called out the others, because when they arrived near the first tents, they were all huddled near the camper, Dale still on the roof with his binoculars.
Dawn dropped on the ground and lay there, out of breath and way too thirsty. Merle leaned against a nearby car and pulled a cloth over his forehead and neck to wipe the sweat.
Some people quickly gathered around them, passing them bottles of water. Dawn drank hers in one big swing.
“Hey, take it easy or you’ll be sick.” she heard Carol say to her. The woman had a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner.
“Thank for the exercice, think ’ve dropped ‘few pounds.” Merle laughed, but it was nowhere near humoristic. Dawn could almost hear the frustration in his voice and she understood how he must feel. Because she was feeling the same way. She had been left out before, left behind, and it had hurt her more than she’d thought it would. Her self-confidence was fragile and she needed to restrain herself from crying when her brain started to drown in thoughts like these. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that the group wouldn’t have come back for them, leaving her and Merle to survive on their own. Well at least she wouldn’t have been alone, and that was somewhat comforting.
But then she remembered that Merle had a brother, a brother that certainly wouldn’t let him alone out there. He certainly would’ve come to rescue him. But she had no one. Not even before the outbreak, she had always been alone. Being by herself since she was a kid really weighted on her shoulders, she had grown up slower than other kids because her brain was in flight mode; trying to distract her from the harsh reality. She hadn’t wanted to grow up, to have responsibilities and all but it had happened and she had found a certain peace in her loneliness. A certain freedom. Until the dread of the reality of how lonely she was cripled in again and made her sink to the floor in a mess of tears and cries.
Dawn was stirred out of her spiraling thoughts when Daryl came out of the forest yelling at everyone. She lifted her head up from the ground and felt a single tear run down her left cheek. She quickly sniffled and glanced at the commotion happening before her. Daryl had his crossbow in one hand and was pacing, his feet kicking small clouds of dust. His jaw was tense and his eyes shooting daggers. He yelled about how irresponsible they all were to leave group members behind, how they would feel if it was them and not his brother and her, stuck in that city. Dawn couldn’t stop observing the scene, her eyes dry from not having slept much and maybe from dehydration too. Maybe her eyes were stinging because she was fighting not to let the stream of tears go past her eyelids. She straightened herself as she slowly rose to her feet, the empty bottle in one hand. She didn’t want to appear scared or hurt or even weak, so she straightened her shoulders back and put a mask on her face, not letting any emotion pass.
***
Merle glanced at the brunette on the ground, a few feet from him. She had collapsed on the dust as soon as they arrived, but was now on her knees, slowly rising to her feet. Her lips were sealed shut, crackled dry and pale in contrast to her slightly sunburnt nose and cheeks. Her scalp must have been a bit sunburnt too from walking under the growing heat of Georgia's sun without a cap. Her tattooed arms were hidden from the sun by her unbuttoned shirt. The white t-shirt she wore under it was dirty from perspiration and stained with dirt, and maybe even blood. He couldn’t read her face, and that set him on edge. He was usually good at reading people and telling if they were telling the truth or not. But she, she is a damn mystery.
Daryl was suddenly yelling at Rick and Shit-head Shane took a few steps forward, trying to keep him at bay. But it seemed like his presence only nourished Daryl’s anger. Dawn was watching too, her eyes passing from Daryl to the crowd of survivors around them. He could imagine what she was feeling. disappointment. anger. fear.
Shane’s voice broke through his chain of thought, and he turned his head to see what was happening. “Hey, you better calm down now!” The black haired cop had a shotgun in one hand and held the other toward Daryl, like he was a trainer trying to tame a wild animal. Ain’t no taming my brother. He would have laughed.
“Y’all left them in that damn city, with those motherfuckers and didn’t think ta tell me?”
“We were planning to go back.” Rick said calmly, like he had already dealt with that kind of angry reckless man and knew how to behave to make them at least less angry and more willing to discuss. And they thought it would work, but it was not knowing the young Dixon. “Withou’ me?” The angrier he became, the more his southern accent was kicking in and it almost made Merle chuckle. Really, everything about this was funny, but also it was not.
He wanted to say something too, to yell at the others for letting him behind, for letting her behind, like they were nobody. And as though Dawn had read his mind that’s exactly what she said.
“D’you realize you left two members of the group behind? Without even a word? Without a glance? What are we to y’all? Expendables?” She inhaled and exhaled, no one said a word. Her voice was calm but he felt the sting of anger and sadness piercing the air when she resumed, “Hell you didn’t even leave us a weapon! We only had a fucking knife. That’s not how a team’s supposed to survive.” She waved slightly a hand, as if swatting away a fly and walked right to Rick, not glancing at anyone else. Was she going to punch him? That’ll be fun.
Her pace was steady, not too slow but not fast either, and Merle was disappointed when she walked past the two cops and his brother and didn’t even stop. She just glared angrily at Rick and Shane and went straight to her tent– that Glenn had brought back to her from one of his supply runs in the city one day. Few moments later he saw her going down the slope to the lake of the quarry while all the others were discussing or resuming their chores for the day.
Merle didn’t know what to do now that he was back at camp. He felt restless. He was sitting by his tent near his brother’s and was fidgeting with a wooden stick, alone. He was used to it, the loneliness, the hatred from others. But this time it felt different. It felt like the people of the camp weren’t truly happy to see him back. And he couldn’t blame them. They’d left him alone, if not for Dawn he’d be dead probably. Or worse.
M’ sure them wished for my ass t’be bitten, bunch o’ assholes.
Kicking at the dirt with his foot, he stood up and started walking aimlessly, hands in his pockets, watching people as he passed by. Some threw him glances and others just simply ignored him, but overall the feeling was the same; people were unhappy with him being back. They certainly didn’t care much about Dawn, and probably were pissed she saved his ass, but he was grateful to her. And as much as he wouldn’t admit it even to himself, he owed her his life. He had a debt to her now. Who knows what would have happened if she had left with the others? He didn’t want to go down that way, thinking ‘what ifs’ always put him on edge. He didn’t like thinking about the past, considering his to be one the shittiest ever.
As his thoughts circled back to the woman and why she had helped him, he came to a halt and looked around. It has been quite some time now that she disappeared down at the lake and he couldn’t find her anywhere, so he walked there slowly, not really knowing what he was doing. He was just tired. Tired and bored. And everything in between.
Approaching the lake down the slope he spotted some of the women doing the laundry but no Dawn. He kept walking, going around the big rocks and to the other side of the lake, where the water wasn’t all soapy and where the women’s chit-chat was no more than a whisper. And there he found her. Floating on her back a little farther in the water, her clothes discarded on a rock with a towel. He sat on one of the rocks, almost burning his hands doing so, and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. As if sensing the movement or maybe it was the smell from the cigarette’s smoke, Dawn looked up from her spot. Her hands shielding her eyes from the sun even though she was wearing sunglasses.
She didn’t wave or anything, just splashed some water to her face and approached the shore. “Didn’t find a swimsuit, huh?” he asked, puffing out some smoke in a chuckle. She was wearing denim shorts and a tank top. He could clearly see the tattoos on her arms and shoulders, and some black lines running on her neck. She hadn’t taken off the several rings she constantly wore. He had remarked that too.
“In fact, nope.” She emphasized the last syllable and took the towel to dry her face and hair. “Guess they’re not real happy I saved your meat, huh?” She looked up at him while wrapping herself in the towel to hide as she started to get changed. He let out a snort of laugh before finishing his cigarette and crashing it on a rock, stomping on it with his feet. He looked toward the other women doing the laundry. “Ain’t no one to appreciate the ol’ Merle.” He said, throwing his arms in the air in a grand gesture, almost theatrical, and she chuckled. “Think they like me even less than before.” Her tone was flat and distant, but he could guess the outline of something. A bittersweet emotion. Even without looking at her he knew she had put that mask back on her face, the one he didn’t like because he couldn’t read her. He couldn’t see beyond and it unsettled him.
Silence fell on the lake, only the camp’s usual noises filling the air, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. Just like when they sat on the brown leather couch in the apartment and feel asleep. It was a silence far from awkward, it was more like the peaceful silence of a late summer night, with only the cicadas singing restlessly, and the sun setting on the hill.
She finished changing, picking the wet clothes from the ground and putting on her socks and shoes, not bothering tying up the laces.
Walking past him, she said, “You shouldn’t smoke. S’not good for your health.”
“What do you care?” He answered, surprise in his voice.
“I don’t. Just stating facts.” She said blankly, not turning around.
He stayed on his rock, his head empty, watching her walk back up to the camp passing the other women who timidly waved at her. He was so tired he knew he could sleep through the next two whole days, if only he wanted. Just like when he used drugs. He knew that feeling, and it wasn’t really a pleasant one. He didn’t want to think about it for too long, or else he’d start second-guessing things and he hated how it led him to wishful thinking. Because then he couldn’t control his emotions and he hated it.
***
Being back at camp was weird enough for Dawn because she had joined them not so long ago, but now the people there certainly hated her for saving the redneck. He was not in a lot of people’s hearts and she could understand that, but still she couldn’t understand how they could leave members of the camp behind so easily. She wouldn’t forget any time soon that they had discarded her when she had just been trying to help. I just didn’t help the right person i guess.
Hanging the shorts and top to dry out in the sun, she turned around with a start as Lori put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey.” The brown haired woman was holding a basket of wet laundry against her hip with her other hand and she smiled at Dawn, “How are you feeling?”
Dawn hadn’t expected that, sure Lori was the nicest to her with Carol, but she didn’t think they'd be preoccupied with her wellbeing, certainly not after her outburst when she got back just a few hours earlier. “Just wanted to check up on you.” Dawn didn’t really know what to say, so she said the usual “I’m fine.” with a small smile that may or may not be convincing enough, but at last Lori nodded and didn’t push further with any more questions. “Just so you know, if you wanna talk, i’m here.”
Dawn nodded and quickly ducked back to her tent, avoiding talking or looking at people. She knew exactly what kind of looks they would give her, and she didn’t want any of them.
That night, she would’ve missed dinner if Rick hadn’t come check up on her, waking her from a long nap. He stood there in a crouch, in front of her unzipped tent and was looking at her with a sorry look. She didn't want to alienate the person who seemed to be running the camp with Shane, so she smiled at him and slowly nodded as he was explaining to her why and how they left in a hurry. She didn’t quite buy all his little story, but played along nonetheless.
Upon joining the others around the small campfire, she noticed Daryl and Merle were sitting on a log, chewing on a piece of meat. She took place beside a man named Jim with whom she had talked a few times already. She had learned how he had lost his family at the beginning of the outbreak and had found the man quite intriguing. He didn’t speak much, and when he did it was either a riddle or something he truly meant. Or both. Thankfully he didn’t look at her with pity, but instead really smiled at her. Lori was sitting across from her and gave the young woman a small smile, handing her a plate over the small campfire, “Here you go.” Although the days were hot as hell, the nights were cool and Dawn's back was instantly covered in goosebumps when she felt the comforting warmth from the slow burning logs.
Silence fell on the group as everyone was eating their share. Dawn took a moment while chewing to observe the people gathered in a circle. Andrea was slowly eating the crumbs in her plate, purposefully not looking up. Maybe she felt shame from leaving two members behind. Andrea’s sister, Amy, was lost in her thought, that much was obvious. Glenn was watching the embers glowing and nodded from time to time as Dale was talking to him quietly. T-Dog and Morales were silent, as was Jacqui.
The day after, Jim started to dig holes in the fresh dirt at the top of the hill, Rick and Shane stopped the man before he killed himself from dehydration or sun exposure. And soon after that, the camp was attacked by geeks, and the damages were severe. Several members got bitten and had to get shot in the head before they’d turn. Dawn was watching Andrea crying on her sister’s lifeless body from afar while cleaning her knife. It was only the morning and as usual the temperatures were already high, making sweat form on everyone’s forehead. From where she was Dawn could hear people talking about shooting Amy. Rick seemed really concerned and saddened by the events. Daryl was the one suggesting shooting the dead-woman-soon-to-be-not-so-dead in the head “nice and clean” he said. Lori disagreed, as did Dale.
Shane was clearly drowning, taking his cap off and running a hand in his dark curls every two minutes, and Dawn noticed how different from Rick he was. Rick was calm and collected, trying to be kind and gentle with everyone but also to get them to do what he wanted, or what was necessary. Shane, on the other hand, was more hot-headed, probably could shoot a man in cold-blood as well. He seemed all charming and smiling, but when the situation was out of his control he seemed like either a psychopath all over his own head, or a scared child. Probably both.
Dawn froze when Amy started growling and gripping her sister’s shirt. Andrea was crying as she put her gun to he sister’s face, inhaled warily while closing her eyes and then pulled the trigger. Silence fell back on the quarry as the gunshot echoed in the air and Andrea’s sobs started again.
It was almost midday and they were done with burying the dead from the camp. Everyone was silent, either suffering from the heat and the exhaustion or from the sadness of losing people, friends. Andrea cried a lot, silently this time, exiling herself from the others. Jim had been bitten, and the remaining survivors all took a pity look on their faces. But he didn’t seem much concerned by the situation, he said “at least i’ll finally be with my family.” That was the saddest thing Dawn had witnessed in a while. Sure burying people was sad, but they weren’t suffering like Jim was.
***
On the road to the CDC, Jim had been left under a tree. People said their goodbyes and tears were shed again as they continued on the asphalt to try to find a new safe place. Merle was no fool, he knew the situation was desperate and that such a place wouldn’t exist, and if it did exist, well, it was going to be hard to find.
Driving at the end of the caravan of cars, Merle had no idea why they were stopping again, until people got out of their cars. They were there, they’ve arrived at the CDC. Dead bodies littered the ground and the smell was horrendous, forcing the survivors to put a hand to their nose or a cloth over their mouth. Everybody followed to the metallic gate, everyone was nervous. Merle had a sniper-rifle in hand, Daryl had his crossbow at the ready, watching their backs with Shane while Rick started to yell at a camera that apparently had moved. When Merle glanced around, he saw Dawn watching the camera and then turning to face the dead bodies. They could already hear the growling of some walkers in the distance. And suddenly the metallic door opened itself up and a harsh white light momentarily blinded the group.
A shadowy figure took a step forward, holding an assault rifle. Merle took in the white lab coat and the man. He didn’t like that, white blouses and medical stuff were not his things. And what’s a doc’s doin’ with a gun?
The scientist, some Dr Jenner, allowed them into the center but they had to submit to a blood test; it was the rule. Everybody got into the elevator and waited as it started its descent. Merle had his back against one of the walls, his brother by his side holding his crossbow so as not to hurt anyone. Dawn was crunched in a corner behind Andrea, her gaze lost in the void.
They were going underground. They were underground. This was not a pleasant thought, and not only Merle felt like it. Carol apparently had claustrophobia and some others looked pale.
***
They waited in line for the blood test, Dawn at the end of the queue. She hated needles. It was strange because she had no problem with them when it came to getting her tattoos done, but when it was related to the medical field it was almost impossible for her not to have a panic attack. And to make it worse, they were underground. At least Shane seemed to have forgotten about her entirely because he hadn’t spoken to her or glanced her way a single time since she came back with Merle. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was tired of keeping an eye on her since she didn’t attempt anything and it has already been a month that she was part of the group.
Still, she was uncomfortable with the situation, and would’ve preferred for Dr Jenner to say to them that they were not staying on the surface beforehand. Trying to regulate her breathing, Dawn kept her hands in tight fists, and she knew she’d have little marks on the inside of her palms.
Jenner was now smiling at the woman, waiting for her to take place on the chair before him. It seemed she had zoned out in the whirlwind of her thoughts because she didn’t notice the queue getting smaller and smaller. Warily, she sat on the chair and slowly showed her arms to the doctor so he could process.
Dawn didn’t know if it was her tensed face or her pale complexion due to the white light coming from the ceiling, but Jenner seemed to sense her unease.”Not a fan of needles, uh?” Dawn only shook her head trying to keep her eyes on the scientist’s face. But when he moved his hands she couldn’t help and looked at the table for a second. Her breath got caught in her throat and she tensed even more. Jenner slightly taped her arm so she would unclench her fist. She hoped she wouldn’t pass out or vomit.
Turning her head as much as she could in the other direction, not wanting to look at the scientist again when he spoke to her, Dawn closed her eyes and waited. She felt the sting of the needle entering her skin and the flux of blood being pumped out. She was too sensitive, too aware of what was happening. She has always been. “Hey don’t hold your breath, okay? It’ll be over soon.” Jenner promised her. She was paralyzed and couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even swallow her saliva. She was a stone statue. Dawn felt it when Jenner removed the needle from her arm and her eyes squeezed shut again. She exhaled a long breath.
Dr Jenner stood up and took the samples with him, placing a hand on Dawn’s shoulder. Keeping her eyes on the ground she slowly rose to her feet and retrieved her backpack. When Dawn finally looked up, she saw only Carol looking at her, a small smile on her face. She motioned to her to come over, the others all busy talking among themselves. Somewhat Dawn was glad no one noticed the tension that had taken a hold on her whole body. She appreciated Carol so she let her put a hand on her arm and guide her toward the rest of the group as Jenner was leading them into another long corridor.
Now resting on the bed of a small foreign room, Dawn stared at the ceiling. There were no windows, the walls were bare and she had only turned on the bedside lamp, letting the room float in a semi-darkness somehow comforting. Her bag still laid on the floor, untouched, she still had her shoes on, her arms sprawled at her side, she softly kicked her legs hanging from the bed, barely an inch from the ground. She still felt a bit dizzy from the blood test so she decided it was for the better to isolate herself a moment, to regain her strength and composure.
It was not the most comfortable bed, it was low and she had sunk into it so easily she had let out a small “oh!”. It was weird to be in a bed, underground, in this foreign place with those foreign people. Just as it has been weird to move to Atlanta alone. It has been weird buying furniture for her apartment, the whole moving in process has been weird. She didn’t know how long it took her to process the whole thing and to adapt, but now she needed to adapt to the new world quickly if she wanted to survive.
In this new world she couldn’t hide in her room with music and books and all the other coping mechanisms she had developed over the years. Trying to relax her body and even her breathing she thought about all the things that wouldn’t exist anymore in this new world. She truly would miss movies and shows, and wondered if some celebrities had survived and how. Her brain really couldn’t stop thinking about everything and anything.
Noises rose from the corridor as people walked past her door while talking and laughing. Then a knock. “Hey! Dawn you coming?” It was Glenn’s voice. Dawn lifted herself off the bed and walked to the door.
“Hey!” the young man seemed happy, but for what reason, she didn’t know.
“Hey, where you going?”
“Dinner!” That was it, just one word and he was beaming like a child receiving gifts. He continued, “Jenner had a whole stash of alcohol and food, c’mon.”
The horizon of Dawn - a walking dead universe fanfic - part 3: a distant moon
Twdxf!oc!
my masterlist :)
Part 1, part 2,
How did i end up there? she thought while looking outside the dirty window to the crowded streets. Merle and Dawn were hiding in some apartment in town, after having to deal with some issues as the rest of the group had left without waiting for them. leaving us on that damn roof.
Everything started to go south when Glenn brought back that new guy, apparently a former cop. Also apparently looking for his wife and son. Dawn didn’t really register his name or where Glenn had found him, but all she knew was that because of him– and surely because of her morals, she was now stuck in a city full of geeks with no way of escaping. They would have to wait for a better moment, maybe during the night when they’d have less risks of being seen. Do those things see us anyway? Or is it just by the smell and sounds? The young woman had already asked herself those questions when she had found herself alone in the woods, but she had not dared put herself in danger in order to verify a theory.
She sighed, already bored by the situation. Maybe even angry at herself. She didn’t know why she had reacted the way she did, maybe it had something to do with the fact that people always abandoned her somehow, so she felt like she didn’t want to abandon people back, because she knew how much it hurt to be left behind. She didn’t want to become like the people she grew up with. She wanted to become better, to be a better person. So she’d stayed to help Merle get out of the handcuffs, because apparently even the one putting him in handcuffs didn’t seem too bothered by the thought of leaving him behind with nothing to defend himself. And T-dog dropping the key in the drain before fleeing was the cherry on top.
She was certain they didn’t even notice that she wasn’t in the truck with the rest of them. Did she care? She tried to pretend like she didn’t, but the truth was that even after all this time and all the things she went through, it still hurt her. Wrenching her heart as the thoughts flooded her mind.
After retrieving the small key and getting the handcuffs off the man, they saw the white truck leaving the area without them. But they didn’t have the time to yell for them, geeks were already crowded at the door. So they ran.
Behind her, Merle was sitting on the brown leather couch, head tilted backward and eyes closed. He was rubbing his sore wrist, the skin red from the heat and the constant struggle against his restraints. They had scanned the place before allowing themselves to lower their guard and rest a little, the only trace of life being specks of blood on the carpet of the small corridor leading to the bathroom and bedroom.
Pulling back the curtains, Dawn walked over to the little kitchen area and started rummaging through the cupboards in the hope of finding something edible. Finally she found some crackers and a peanut butter jar, and went to sit on the couch beside the man.
***
Upon hearing the bag of crackers being opened, Merle cracked open one eye and threw a glance in Dawn’s direction. He watched her as she then opened the peanut butter jar and dipped a cracker in it. He made a move to help himself and pick in the biscuits’ bag, but the woman pushed his hand away with a disapproving sound and hard stare.
He’d almost laugh if she wasn’t staring at him like that.
“Hey don’t play with me. We’re here because of your stupid ass, Merle.”
“Never asked ya to stay.”
“Oh please, you cried like a baby before I came back to free you.” She swallowed her mouthful and looked at him with a playful grin on her lips. “Was little Merle scared of being alone? Is little Merle scared of this big scary world? Uh?” She imitated a child’s voice and it pissed him off, how easily she could get under his skin so quickly. He didn’t even talk to her that much– this was admittedly their first real conversation.
After a moment of silence, he asked;
“That’s all you foun’ ?”
Dawn hummed in agreement and the man got up to scan the place himself.
“You don’t trust me?” She didn’t even lift her head to look at him, too busy eating, and Merle let out a small laugh. “Not really.”
Rummaging through the cupboards and the small pantry, he let out a tired sigh, turning on his heels, he sat back down on the couch. Nothing interesting in this damn apartment.
***
Being in the sweltering heat of the Georgia sun had exhausted Merle and Dawn, so after making sure no one could open the front door from outside they fell asleep quietly on the sofa. Merle slept soundly when Dawn woke up with a start. a nightmare, again… It has almost always been like that but some nights it seemed that she was allowed a proper rest, her sleep not disturbed by nightmares. It was rare though. Taking a shaky breath she got up from the couch and lightly drew back the curtain, taking a quick look out the window. It was so dark outside without the city’s street lights that Dawn couldn’t make out much of their surroundings. But the one constant was the growling, a sound that seemed to never fade, letting her know that there still were geeks in the streets.
She debated with herself whether or not she should wake up Merle. She wasn’t sure it was the best idea to go out in the dark in a city full of those things, but she thought it was safer at night, when no one could see them.
Finally she nudged the man’s leg with her foot, hands in her pockets, eyes on his face waiting for a reaction. He sleeps so damn deeply he wouldn’t even wake up if i screamed..
Finally he grunted and shook his leg as if trying to make a dog go away, but Dawn gave him a final hit.
“Oh, wake up.” her voice was hoarse, she was so thirty she’d kill for a bottle of water.
Merle jolted awake and then fell back into the couch, running his hands on his face, he let out a growl. “C’mon sleeping beauty, we should go.”
“What time is it? Why is it so damn dark in here?”
He then looked the woman in the eye, dead serious. “Why th’hell d’you woke me up in the middle of the night for?”
“Thought it’ll be safer if we moved at night. So no one can spot us.”
“Who d’you wanna hide from? Those bitches only smell and hear us. Ya shoulda known by now.” He sighed heavily.
“Didn’t have much opportunity to verify that theory in the woods.”
“Ya never walked on one of ‘em?” he asked, now curious as to know how she survived this long alone if she didn’t even know how to hide from the geeks. She turned from him and pulled back the curtain again, but it was still dark and she could only see the outline of some cars, shiny under the moon’s silvery light.
He let out another sigh and stood up.
“I ain’t riskin’ my ass out there in the dark. What if ya can’t spot one in time and it bites ya?”
Dawn was surprised at how serious he seemed. For once in weeks he didn’t have that playful tone in his voice. But she felt restless.
“You concerned ‘bout ma safety, now sleeping beauty?”
Merle gave her the finger and it was too dark to tell, but he could’ve sworn he saw her smile before she turned her back again, looking out the window once more.
“Ya got a flashlight?” he heard her say, flatly.
“Nope. But i got this.” Silence filled the room as he searched his pockets, and a metallic click later a small flame erupted from a lighter.
“It’ll do.”
Now he could see her at least her silhouette against the window. She put back the curtains and went to grab her crossover backpack.
“Where d’you think yere goin’?”
“Told you.” She only looked up at him for a brief second before heading toward the front door.
He caught her arm before she could take down the casseroles and empty can hanging from the handle.
“What now? You afraid of the dark?”
Merle’s jaw tensed and he didn’t know how but he contained his emotions, stopping himself before he’d even say anything or do anything stupid. Like bash your head through the fuckin’ door.
“Hey, let go of me, now. I don’t wanna spend more time than needed in this fucking city.”
He sighed heavily again, clenching his jaw and letting go off her arm. While she started putting down their little makeshift fence, he told her “Don’t count on me t’save your ass.” to which she only replied in the most serious tone ever “I wasn’t.” And with a single glance at him she nodded her head and opened the door, she stepped out, the darkness swallowing her, Merle on her heels.
Original main character x Captain Price, reader x Captain Price, fmc x Captain Price
A cod fanfic? Original main character insert? Fluff? Yes yes yes. Originally it was supposed to be a crossover between the expendables and the Task force 141 but hey I got carried away by Captain Price what can I say ;) be kind it's my first time writing something like that!
She goes by the callsign Shadow. No one knows where she is from, or how old she is. No one knows jackshit about her. She keeps her past where it belongs, in the past. She doesn’t care for the future, all she has in mind is surviving one moment after the next. She is one of the best mercenaries the guys have ever worked with, and they hold her in great respect. Maybe they fear her a bit too– there is something in her, something dark that only reveals itself in some rare moments. Sometimes when they need it the most. So they don’t mention it, the darkness they can see in her eyes, in the way she fights, in the coldness of her voice, the steadiness of her movement. She never falters, never backs down, never fails. Never misses a beat or a bullet. They don’t say anything because she’s saved their sorry asses more times than they could count and because she earned their trust. She is one of them, she is family. But every family member gets to keep his little secret garden. And there are things they don’t know about her.
They don’t know she never served in the army, but rather she was raised in violence and evolved in a violent lifestyle. That’s how she came to be one of the most feared mercenaries to ever exist. No one knows her name or full face except for the people she works with and the ones she’s killed over the years. But they all know her callsign and they fear it. Legs shaking with apprehension upon hearing it. Breathing ragged from despair, voice hoarse from crying for mercy. She is not known to be merciful. She is ruthless.
She was truly one of a kind, and Captain Price didn’t know if his team would have survived without her help. He had called her in for a another favor knowing she wouldn’t say no to him. She never did. Price didn’t really know what was it that drove her to work with him without asking any question other than practical ones. Even after years of working together and getting closer, he still wondered why she always answered when he called. It was almost as if she didn’t care about being paid or not for the help she was providing. Like she didn’t care about the mission, as long as she was working with him she would say yes. All she seemed to have in mind was the job that had to be done. But secretly she always said yes because it gave her an excuse to be close to the guys, and a captain in particular. She would never decline a call from him even if it was to kill people she didn’t know. And anyway she was used to it.
He glanced her way, half-hidden behind a tree, crouched, head low. She wasn’t moving an inch, like a stone statue but he knew she was observing her environment. Looking for threats everywhere. One short whistle echoed in the forest and she immediately turned her head toward him. He nodded once to her, while signaling to the guys to keep cover and wait. She departed quickly, moving fast but silently. He thought she was one with the shadows around her, sliding in between thorny bushes and trees like the shadow of a cloud passing in the sky. Her gear didn’t even make a sound, like everything in her was made for this life. For a life of battle, blood, sweat and death. It was a violent life she had not chosen, and she could quit any moment if she so desired. But he guessed it was so deep in the roots of her brain and in every fiber of her being that it was like a second nature. She couldn’t hide the ferocity that took hold of her when she was fighting. She grew up in a life of violences, so she became a woman living violently.
She disappeared behind the hill, her feet gliding in the dirt so easily she was almost flying to the bottom, pebbles of stones and rocks following after her. She hung her rifle on her back and got a hold of the knives at her waist. Moving swiftly she went effortlessly and crossed the short distance to the old crumpled building and entered smoothly. A stench of mold and dust took a hold of her lungs but she didn’t stop, her steps steady. Every single movement was calculated. Deadly to her enemies. The guys listened carefully over the open coms, waiting for her to signal they could come in. Or listening for any sign of trouble, any sign she might need help. Price shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. When did she ever need help?
They heard some sounds in the distance; a few grunts and the woosh motion of blades being unsheathed and thrown, hitting the target. The deep but soft sound of corpses falling to the concrete floor. And then chaos. A man cried, whether from pain or to alert his companions of her presence in the compound. Price didn’t have the time to think about it. The cry was muffled quickly. The distinctive cracks of knuckles and bones reverberated through the coms but she never said a word. Was it her bones cracking like that? Did she shatter the man's skull to shut him up? The guys could only wait and try to guess what was happening inside the building. After a few long minutes spent in the expectative Captain Price gave the signal. They all departed silently, moving fast and low toward the building. He couldn’t wait any longer for her to give them the green light. His mind kept playing little horrifying movies in his head, worst case scenarios of what could happen one day on a job. One of them could never come back, could not make it out alive. And he knew if it was her, that he wouldn’t survive the loss. But she never gave him reason to panic, except maybe at the beginning when she didn’t know them well and would play by her own rules, not giving a shit about the team. She would not communicate over the comms, which drove Price mad with anger and frustration. Eventually, one day after a mission he took her to his office and told her to stop acting like she was alone. It made the guys in the team feeling uneasy, almost on the edge, and she promised to get better at it. And she kept her promise, each new mission she would improve and would be better at working in a team, and Price knew it was a big effort she was doing for them– for him. He knew she had spent most of her life by herself, fighting the harsh world that wanted to hurt her ever since her birth. He knew it was hard for her to trust them, and for that he was eternally grateful she did.
No one in the team asked why they kept the channel of the comms open when she was working with them. Only the two of them knew the reason and if the team didn’t mind, or at least didn’t show it, and didn’t ask about it, they would keep it like that.
Upon entering they saw the scene worth it of a horror movie set. Bodies were scattered across the whole area, smears of blood on the walls and even a tooth somewhere on the ground. Suddenly a man screamed in fear and crashed violently in front of the guys. Silence followed heavily. He had been thrown over the railing of the upper level. Shadow jumped over the old unsteady staircase and landed near the body. Upon getting back up she noticed the team had entered the building. She dusted herself off while informing them the target wasn’t there.
“How? Our intel was very specific.” Gaz said.
“Who’s your intel?” she asked, walking over the multiple dead bodies, meticulously watching every single one of them in search of a piece of information. Only her eyes were visible, a black cloth hiding the lower part of her face, eyebrows furrowed. The sunglasses she wore outside hung in one of the pockets of her kevlar jacket.
She rarely took the mask off during a mission with them, but when it was just her and Price in his office talking about mission debriefs and how life had been since they last saw each other, when they were secretly catching up all these months spent far away, only then she allowed her paranoid mind some rest and took it off. It had been hard at first to trust the guys, to trust the Captain, but they grew on her over the years and Price also earned her respect. He had helped her when she had most needed a friend in her life, when she had been left alone wounded, betrayed, and he had never let her down ever since.
So for that she thought he deserved to know who he was working with, who he was holding when the nightmares took over her mind and she woke up in a start, her t-shirt sweaty and her hand clutching at the beddings. Him rushing to her side in an instant whenever he was close enough to hear her thrashing around in her sleep or see her form in the night. Everytime she was asleep, Price made it a point to stay awake and make sure she was alright. He made sure she didn’t scream every time a nightmare was plaguing her mind, soothing her softly, trying his best because they needed to remain ghosts when on missions and if her scream of agony in the middle of the night attracted the enemy he would never forgive himself. He already knew what the team was thinking, they pitied her and somehow understood what she was going through; because who goes to war and comes back unscathed? If anything, knowing that she had feelings and that her actions haunted her in her sleep made them appreciate her more, making her appear more human rather than the cold hearted killer facade she wore during her waking moments. Price wanted for her to find peace and to cast the demons away, but he knew damn well it was easier said than done, and never would he blame her for that.
After some time he started to stay entirely by her side at night, waiting for her to fall asleep, watchful eyes observing the rise and fall of her chest, her features that seemed a tad more relaxed when he was around. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him, that he imagined everything. And the more he stayed by her side in the night, the more difficult it became to ignore the glances his brothers were throwing discreetly at him in the morning.
She felt something she had never felt before around him. She felt safe enough to drop the guard a little. But only a little, because she knew far too well that you can never know what will happen next. And yet she allowed her body and mind to rest when he would lay beside her in bed, watching her fall asleep as she was listening to his own breathing– like a lullaby.
“It’s confidential.” Captain Price’s voice came low and grave. She looked up at him from the corpses scattered in the hall, not a single emotion crossing her features. But she kept her eyes trained on Price’s face for a long moment. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to keep things from her. But Laswell hadn’t told Price the name of their intel, so he assumed it must be one of Laswell’s own spies and hadn’t felt the need to inform them he had no idea who gave the information leading up to this moment in the middle of fucking nowhere. He knew that Shadow would not have agreed on letting them go. Hell she probably would've gone to Laswell to demand more information before departing.
She only let out a small sigh before turning to leave the building, the guys on her heels. No one said a word on the way back to their vehicle and back to the safe house. She kept her thoughts to herself as they all sat in the cramped space, their gears and arsenal taking more space than themselves. Her head hung low, eyes focused far, lost somewhere between here and there. Her mind navigating a raging sea of spiraling thoughts. She was hesitating between going back with the guys and trying to talk to Price alone, or leaving them before they reached the nearest town. She memorised they had passed a small village, outside of the one where they had their safe house located. She wanted to stay a bit longer with the guys, with Price. So against her better judgment she stayed with them the whole ride. Once they arrived at their safe house they all headed somewhere, busy with their duties of cleaning guns, making food and studying maps of the area. It was an old house big enough to welcome the team and with enough bedrooms for each of them. But she could see through it. It was still a military based safe house with the minimum comfort but the maximum capacity for guns and devices they might need during the mission. Not a luxurious palace but still a place where to shower and lay down comfortably.
She silently followed Price to the room that operated as an office. There she closed the door behind her as he dropped his hat on the cluttered desk over blueprints and satellite maps. An empty bottle of scotch laid open on one corner. A glass stained with use had fallen on the carpeted floor. The captain rubbed his face with his hands and leaned back on the side of the desk. She took off her kevlar jacket and let it drop to the floor, her back pressed against the door, taking a deep breath almost like a yawn she had held inside since the moment she woke up that morning.
She studied the man in front of her. It was not the John she was used to. He was different from the last time she had seen him. He looked more tired like life had taken a liking to biting his ass a little too often. Had he lost weight since the last time? She was lost in her thoughts and didn’t realize that he was staring back at her. Studying her form. Eyes scanning her scarred and tattooed arms and going back to her eyes. She realised then that she had kept her mask on her face and removed it with a sigh of contempt. They both inhaled and exhaled in sync, like they were one.
“Listen, Dawn I..” Price started saying but he didn’t have the rest of the sentence quite formed in his mind just yet. He waited for his brain to function, his mouth slightly agape. He closed it when nothing else came out but a frustrated sigh.
At the mention of her name, she snapped back to reality and stopped contemplating him. He was the only one to know her real name, and even he was doubting she ever gave him her real name. Why would she? He only used it in private settings, when it was just the two of them and he was sure no one was listening.
She frowned.
“Why not share all you know about the mission, John? What are you hiding?” She used his name just like he had used hers, to reinforce her question and make sure he understood she wasn’t pleased with the secrets he was keeping from her and the guys.
“I am not hiding anything. I was just not given all the bits.” He shifted slightly and sighed again, his voice low and slow like he was defeated already. The tension in the room made him uncomfortable and she could feel it, the tension radiating from his body even this far. He was more than tired, she realised. What had happened while she was away?
“Should I believe that?” She took a step forward, leaving the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest, her facial expression unreadable like always when she was Shadow. He was tempted to tell her to drop it, that he knew she didn’t want to come off as hard and heartless but it was a requirement her life had made of her a long time ago. And sometimes it took a bit longer for her to drop the act.
Price looked at her, worry written all over his face. He didn’t want to upset her. Didn’t want to see her leave and never come back. He knew she could trust him, but she knew it too?
“Have I ever lied to you?” he asked in earnest, standing from the desk and fully facing her.
She took another step.
“I don't know. You tell me, have you ever lied to me, John?”
His name again. His breathing missed a beat and he tried to keep his composure. He loved the sound of his name on her lips. It always sounded prettier when she was the one saying it. They kept their gaze level, as if staring into each other’s soul. Stuck in a staring contest that he knew he would not win. He never had and probably never will.
“I’ve never lied to you.” His voice was just above a whisper, his brow so furrowed it made the little lines at the corners of his eyes appear. She noticed them because usually they only showed up when he was smiling or laughing. She liked to see these markers of time passing and joy filling his heart. It had been one of the things to make her fall for him. Every little detail about him, every little thing she noticed she’d store away in her mind like a precious treasure. And everytime she visualised him in her mind’s eye it made her heart beat faster and she was certain she was falling a little bit more each time she saw him. Each time he smiled at her or said her name. Her real name, not her callsign. It also made it harder to keep her mind from straying a dangerous path she swore herself she’d never take.
She continued to walk slowly toward him, arms still crossed. He didn’t like that. He wanted to grab her arms and hold her tight against him and never let go. Crossed arms with her could mean a whole bunch of different things and sometimes he had a hard time trying to decipher the emotions or the thoughts she could be having behind her dark eyes.
She had closed the distance now, standing so close to him she could almost feel his breath on her face. Slowly he raised his hands and took hold of her arms, uncrossing them and holding them. She let him do it without a word. Because it was him? Would she have let anyone touch her? Price’s mind was still wondering if she genuinely enjoyed his company or if she was being polite. He had often wondered, at night when sleep was evading him, if she said yes to every job he offered her as a repayment for the day he saved her life. They never talked about that day. He knew it was a sensitive topic and she would shut down from him and go back to her own life somewhere on the globe until he called her a few months later for a new job. And she would act like nothing happened. And even then he was never certain she would show up, despite her showing up for every single one of them mission so far. She had never turned one of his offers down, and somewhere far in his mind he knew it wasn’t because of the pay he was giving her.
They hadn’t been in contact for so long, both of them always on a job, never in the same country or continent at the same time. Obeying orders coming from the top. It had been a year since they had seen each other, spoken to each other. It wasn’t usually that long but sometimes it came close to it. And he didn’t know if he wanted to sink to the ground in her arms and let all the frustration out with tears while letting her hold him carefully. Or if he wanted to leave everything behind and flee somewhere far away with her. They could disappear, become ghosts, but he suspected she was already a ghost of her own. And he couldn’t abandon his men. They were his brothers and he needed to take care of them. He just wished he could take care of her too.
“John,” she said it so softly it made him close his eyes, luring him to sleep like a lullaby. Like the voice of a siren and he was a lovesick boy lost at sea resisting the urge to answer to the call of madness, of love. She ran a hand over the skin of his arms, from his wrist and trailing up to his shoulders, settling her hands on his neck. She gently cupped his jaw and tilted his face toward her, eye gaze always on him. She was so close it was like a dream after so long apart, and the feels of her hand on his skin gave him goosebumps. His cheeks reddened at the realisation and she softly smiled.
“I have never lied to you, love.” He said, his accent thick and his voice rough, laced with exhaustion and concern. He had barely moved his lips, almost whispering to her. He would say anything to keep her here in his arms. Anything she wanted to hear from him.
She slowly closed the gap, leaning toward him, seeking his warmth. Inhaling his scent she liked so much- and Oh! how she had missed it. It made her smile in a cheesy way, round blushy cheeks, eyes almost closed in a haze of her brain. She brushed her lips to his soft ones. They moved so gently, as if scared of damaging each other, hovering like bees above flowers. The pain from her split lip didn’t stop her from going forward a bit more and pressing a gentle kiss to his full lips. He let go of her arms and placed his hands on her jaw, cupping her face and stroking a cheek with his thumb. Slowly he leaned back, sitting himself on the edge of the desk and crossed his ankles behind her legs, trapping her between his thighs. One of his hands found its way to her waist, holding onto her like a drowning man at sea, like she was his beacon in the storm. And maybe she was. But she also made his mind a haze, numb from the world outside and somehow he was thankful for it. All he could hear was their breathing in sync and all he could feel was her lips and hands on him.
The horizon of Dawn - a walking dead universe fanfic - part 2: guts
twdxf!oc!
part 1,
ao3 link on the masterlist post :)
Eventually one day Dawn was allowed to join Glenn on a supply run in the city. Other people wanted to go as well; Andrea, T-dog, Jacqui and Morales. Shane wasn’t so pleased with that, even less when he heard Merle was going too. But knowing Merle would be there to keep an eye on the newcomer calmed him a little. As the group took off toward Atlanta, the rest of the camp got back to their usual chores and whereabouts.
Everything went well in the city until Glenn came back with a new guest– and a herd of geeks. Andrea drew her gun to the guy’s face and Dawn noticed that the blond woman hadn’t removed the safety. Everyone started to talk to make her put the gun down, but she was angry. So angry at the stranger for rigging the dinner bell, angry because she was panicking, because she thought they wouldn’t be able to get out of the city. It was so easy to fall into a panic state. She eventually stopped, dropped the gun and T-dog tried the radio again. But nothing but statics.
“Maybe the roof. There we’ll have better reception.”
A few seconds later they all heard gunshots, and Andrea sighed.
“Is that Dixon?”
“What is that maniac doing?” asked Morales, really concerned.
They all started to run to the staircase, taking two steps at a time, trying to go as fast as their legs would allow them. They opened the roof’s door in a big clang! and disbelief washed over them at what they witnessed.
“Hey Dixon! Are you crazy?” T-dog was the first to speak, raising his voice over the gunshots noises. Merle was propped one foot on the edge of the roof, aiming at the walkers below with a sniper rifle, hitting every target. He left out a laugh when he heard T-dog and kept firing at the flesh-eaters below them.
Andrea let out a groan. “Oh jeez.”
“Hey! Y’all be more polite to a man with a gun uh! Just common sense.” His heavy southern accents eating the syllables more than Dawn ever heard– not that the man spoke a lot at camp though. She observed him, how he held the rifle, how he didn’t miss a single target. He was trained, well trained.
“Man, you’re wasting bullets we ain’t even got!” T-dog was getting impatient but Merle only laughed more, readying himself to aim at another target.
“And you’re bringing even more of them down our ass! Man, just chill!”
Dawn looked down toward the streets, where black masses were moving slowly, growling in the distance.
“hey! Bad enough I've got this taco-bender on my ass all day.” he said pointing toward Morales, “Now I'm gonna take orders from you? I don't think so, bro. That'll be the day.” His face was distorted in a mix of rage from being disturbed whilst in the middle of his little therapy-shooting session, and a smile that would tell you a lot of stories if you’d only dared look at it.
“That”ll be the day? You got something you wanna tell me ?”
“T-dog, man, leave it.” Morales said, sensing the storm about to strike.
“No.” T-dog seemed ready for whatever furry would unleash on him.
“Hey, it ain’t worth it. Relax.”
Merle looked right into T-dog’s eyes, stepping toward him, licking his lips like a predator ready to eat his prey. He’s far from being relaxed, thought Dawn.
“Ye wanna know the day?”
T-dog nodded, “Yeah.” And Dawn knew it was going to get bad.
“I’ll tell you the day, M.Yo. It’s the day i’ll take order from a nigger.” Merle spat down the word and then really spat on the concrete floor. T-dog’s face was tense from anger. “Mother..” but he couldn’t finish his sentence as the two men broke off into a fistfight.
“Hey, woah cut it out, man!”
“Dixon, that's enough!”
Everybody yelled at the redneck to stop punching T-dog, who was now lying on the hard floor, receiving rageful hits on the face. Merle’s knuckles were red from T-dog’s blood, but he kept going. again and again as if in a trance.
Dawn watched, glued to her spot, not daring saying anything or doing anything. She knew that Merle had a temper, she saw him argue with Shane more than once since she’d joined them, and she’d suspected him, just by how he held himself and how he behaved, that he was some kind of racist and sexist redneck. But she’d thought with the end of the world he’d at least contain his feelings and be better. What a mistake. And today’s interaction only confirmed it.
“Stop it! Get off him!” Andrea screamed, almost hysteric.
And as if Merle heard Andrea’s pleading and was considering it, he stopped beating the man on the floor, his fist still in the air. But all of a sudden there was a gun in his hand, pointed at T-dog.
Everyone inhaled sharply, taking a step back, holding a hand to their mouth. Andrea cried out, “Oh no, no, no, please!”
Merle got up suddenly, looking at his crowd like a proud rooster taking in his little audience.
“All right, we’re gonna have ourselves a little powwow, uh? Talk ‘bout who’s in charge.” He threw a wicked grin, “I vote me.” his voice was now calm and collected as if he hadn’t been beating the shit out of another man a second ago. “Anybody else? Democracy time, y’all! Show off hands, uh! All in favors, c’mon!”
With the gun still in his hand, he continued on until every hand was raised. Nobody had dared resist him considering how unpredictable he was.
“Okay, that’s good. Yeah, real good. That means i’m the boss, right? Anybody else?”
The stranger that Glenn had saved only moments prior had been oddly silent until now, he took a step closer behind Merle.
“Yeah.” Before Merle could register what was happening to him, the stranger hit him with a pipe and handcuffed him to another pipe screwed to the roof.
Dawn watched in bewilderment.
“Hey! Who the hell are you man!?” the redneck started to frantically move his wrist, trying to get free from the handcuffs. He started yelling and kicking like a newborn. pathetic. He better regain control of himself if he wanna be freed.
“Officer friendly,” the stranger cocked his head to one side, “Look here, Merle. Things are different now.” He knelt to be at the other man’s level, but stayed far enough so he wouldn't be kicked at or grabbed. “There are no niggers anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. There's us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”
Merle only spat in response, “screw you, man.”
“I see you make a habit of missing the point.” He got up, adjusting his cop’s belt with his holster. Only now Dawn registered the man’s outfit. He’s a cop?
“Yeah well, screw you twice.”
Clearly Merle was in no state to be spoken to. His head still red, flush from the fight against T-dog, his chest lifting heavily and his handcuffed wrist jolting from time to time.
“Ought to be polite to a man with a gun.” The cop took a step back, cocking his gun, mimicking Merle’s words. “Only common sense.”
“Ye wouldn’t. Yer a cop.”
“All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son. Anybody that gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I'll give you a moment to think about that.”
Rick’s glare was focused and steady, his hand still holding the gun, his finger itching for the trigger.
“What are ye gonna do now? Arrest me?” Merle laughed loudly but the stranger walked away, snatching Merle sniper on the ground at the same time.
“Hey that’s my stuff! If I get loose, you'd better pray… Hey you hear me you pig!”
“Yeah, your voice carries.” the cop mutters.
The others, still in shock, regroup toward the man in the cop uniform, throwing uneasy glances at the handcuffed redneck.
“You’re not Atlanta P.D. Where you from?” Asked Morales.
“Up the road a ways.”
“Well, officer friendly from up the road a ways, welcome to the big city.” Morales welcomed the newcomer, offering him his hand to shake.
Few moments later Merle had seemed to calm down. His eyes were closed and his head lifted downward. T-dog was seated on the floor not far from the redneck, he was adjusting the radio’s channel to try getting a clear signal. But his words were lost to the statics. The hard sun of the afternoon was harsher in the city than at the quarry, reverberating on the concrete’s roof of the building with nothing to cast shades or take cover under. Sweat had formed on Dawn’s forehead and she wiped it with a cloth from her back pocket as she silently thanked herself for braiding her hair that morning before going.
“It’s useless. Stop wasting the battery.” The young woman said to T-dog after hearing him curse. He threw her a look she didn’t really know what to do with. She sat up beside him, but not too close. She didn’t quite feel comfortable enough around these people yet.
“How’d you expect to get out o’ here then?” The woman only shrugged before Morales came in.
“How’s that signal?”
“Like Dixon’s brain… weak.” the white man threw the finger to T-dog, who did well to ignore him.
“keep trying.”
“Why?” asked Andrea, “that’s useless, there’s no one.”
“It’s up to us to find a way out.” said the cop, his hand on his hips.
“Good luck with that.” Merle's words were ignored but he kept talking, making comments toward Andrea. The woman ignored him and they all started to search for a plan to get out of the city unscathed. Jacqui seemed to know quite some useful things about old buildings and how they were built so they all headed for the machinery in the basement, where the boilers and pipes were.
Everyone got assigned a job but T-Dog and Dawn. They stayed on the roof, waiting.
Don’t they trust me? I could be useful.
“Anybody out there? Hello? Anybody copy? I'm hoping to hear somebody's voice 'cause I'm getting sick and tired of hearing mine.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us. Why don't you knock that crap off? You're giving me a headache, boy.” Merle looked up to the two people seated in front of him.
“Why don't you pull your head out of your ass? Maybe your headache will go away.” That made Dawn laugh silently but apparently Merle caught her.
“What’s so funny suga’?”
The look she gave him made him shut up for a moment before he scoffed to himself and returned to his half-asleep state.
