MCD x Fem!reader | Angsty | This happens after episode 100 when shadow knights are more prevalent and Laurence is more emo. This is intended to be Lurence x reader, but I'm thinking about doing multiple endings or something. I'm just seeing where this fanfic goes. Also, sorry you're right-handed. Also, I'm dyslexic, so if you see any spelling errors, no, you don't.
The scream of splintering wood yanked you from sleep.
The world tilted violently.
You slammed into the floor.
Shouts echoed above deck, frantic, sharp, followed by the thunderous snap of something heavy breaking loose. Boots pounded on wet planks. Someone was yelling to lower the sails. Another was screaming for help.
Your hands fumbled in the dark. The floor swayed again, and you grabbed whatever you could, a blanket, a wall, anything, just to stay upright.
Another crash. You could feel it in your teeth.
You burst through the door and staggered up the steps, rain already needling your skin. The deck was chaos. Crew scrambled through the downpour, the ship groaning under the weight of the wind. The sky was black. Not dark...
Like something was watching.
Lightning split the sea, and for a second, everything froze in white light.
A massive wave was rising. Higher than the mast.
Laurance was shouting your name?
But you couldn’t hear him over the roar of the ocean.
This is a very uneventful way for you to die.
That was the only thing you remember, mind half awake. That and the taste of salt water.
---------------------------
It clawed its way up your spine, burrowed under your skin, until your entire body was shivering. You gasped, coughing up seawater, your lungs burning. Everything hurt.
Gray sky. White clouds moving slow and heavy.
The taste of salt still clung to your tongue. Your hair stuck to your face, soaked. Everything about you was soaked, your clothes, your boots, the sand beneath you.
You sat up too fast. The world tilted and swayed, even though the ocean was yards away. You dug your fingers into the wet sand, grounding yourself, heart thudding against your ribs like a warning.
Snow dusted the beach like ash. It melted on contact with your skin but stayed piled in uneven patches around you, clinging to the edges of rocks, driftwood, and tall, unfamiliar trees beyond the shoreline. Snow and sand. Warm and cold.
You blinked hard, trying to steady your breath. Trying to remember.
Your head snapped toward the water. Empty horizon. Pieces of wood bobbed in the shallows. A tattered piece of sail lay tangled in seaweed.
You were frozen to the bone. Your teeth were chattering.
And for the first time since you've left the nether.
Not just crying, sobbing, wailing.
You weren't sure why exactly you were crying right now, at this moment.
In the grand scheme of things that you've been through in the past few days, this wasn't the worst.
But it was the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was your life.
The hot tears streaming down your face brought you some mild relief from the cold.
You curled in on yourself, knees to your chest, arms wrapped tight around your shivering frame as if you could hold the world out that way. The wind howled past, dragging your sobs with it, carrying them off into the vast, empty sky.
No one knew where you were.
You were just... gone. Just like that.
You continued to sob. You cried until it hurt.
And when your voice gave out and your body was too tired to shake anymore, you collapsed sideways into the sand. Wet, freezing, aching. But quieter now.
Your eyes fluttered shut.
Not the wind this time. Not the sea.
Your eyes snapped open, breath caught.
Her blue hair glowed in the breaking dawn.
You quickly wiped your eyes and sat up.
You scrambled to your feet.
You rushed toward her, nearly slipping in the sand.
She didn’t speak at first, just met your gaze with wide, stunned eyes. Her lip was bleeding. Her cheek was bruised. She looked like hell.
When you finally reached her, you both stood frozen for a moment, like neither of you knew what to do now that you weren’t alone.
Then, Katelyn reached out and grabbed your arm, grounding herself.
“I thought...” Her voice cracked. “I thought you were dead.”
You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat returning. “I thought everyone was.”
Her grip tightened. “Where are we?”
You shook your head, eyes scanning the frozen shoreline. “I don’t know. Just… not where we’re supposed to be.”
The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the waves crashing steadily behind you, the cold biting into your bones. But for the first time since waking up, you weren’t crying. You weren’t alone.
“We need to find shelter,” you said, voice steadier now. “And the others.”
Katelyn nodded, though her limp made it clear she wouldn’t get far without help.
You took her arm gently, looping it over your shoulder.
“Come on,” you said. “Let’s figure out where the hell we landed.”
And there you two were.
Her arm slung over your shoulders, your body supporting most of her weight.
You’d been practically strangers this morning.
Now you were all you had.
She was shaking. Or maybe that was you.
Her leg was definitely broken, bent at an angle it shouldn’t be.
You pushed forward, step by step, trudging down the shoreline. The sun was finally rising, but it offered no warmth.
Wood and debris littered the shore. No sign of anyone, dead or alive.
You weren’t sure what would’ve been worse;
Finding bodies or not finding them at all.
At least with bodies, you’d have answers.
This? This was just silence.
A thin curl of smoke rising over the treeline in the distance.
Faint, but steady.
Too thin for a fire left burning by accident. Too high to be natural.
Katelyn groans quietly, her weight shifting against your shoulder.
“Do you see that?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
She nods once, her eyes glazed but focused on the same smoke.
Hope. Or danger. Maybe both.
But either way… it was something.
You push through. Coming up off the shore into the snowy woods, the wind biting at your face like needles. The trees offer some shelter, but not much.
Each step is slower than the last, half for Katelyn’s sake, half because you don’t have much left in you. Your legs ache. Your fingers are numb. Her ragged breathing is the only sound between you.
“Almost there,” you whisper, though you don’t know if it’s true. Maybe it’s for her. Maybe it’s for you.
The smoke thickens as you climb the ridge. Your heart beats louder now. Is this a village? If there are people, you’ll finally have answers. Shelter. Maybe even the others.
You swallow the thought and press on.
Then, through the trees, you see it.
Roofs. Walls. A chimney still smoking. Movement.
You and Katelyn exchange a look. Exhausted. Relieved. Terrified.
You don’t know what’s waiting for you in that village. But you don’t stop.
You kept walking, boots crunching softly through snow and brush, every step heavier than the last. Katelyn was leaning more on you now, her weight a silent reminder that you had no choice but to keep going. You didn’t know how much longer either of you could last.
The woods began to thin. Through the trees, you spotted thatched rooftops and timber, rising smoke curling into the morning sky.
Not out of relief out of hesitation. This could be good. This could be very bad.
Katelyn let out a faint breath, nearly collapsing into you. “Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.”
You don’t answer. Just keep moving.
You reach the edge of the tree line, stopping at a worn fence. Beyond it, fields lie quiet under a dusting of snow, and a few weathered homes sit in a cluster. A figure moves near the water, a fisherman.
You raise your voice, unsure if it will carry. “Hey! We need help!”
The man stops. Slowly, he turns.
Your heart thuds in your chest. His eyes scan you, both your torn clothes, and the blood frozen on Katelyn’s leg.
For a second, he does nothing.
Then whatever fishing supplies he was holding dropped from his arms.
He strides toward you, cautious but not aggressive. As he gets closer, you can see the lines in his face, the roughness in his hands.
“What happened?” he asks, glancing at Katelyn, then back at you. His tone is hard, uncertain.
You shift Katelyn’s weight again. “Shipwreck. We... we were headed north. Please.”
You don’t remember much of the next few minutes—just voices and movement. Someone shouts. Boots crunch through snow. Doors creak open.
They come fast once they see you. Half a dozen villagers are rushing toward you with blankets and wide eyes.
“Help her,” you manage, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Her leg.”
They take Katelyn from you, carefully, like she might break. You try to follow, to say something else, but your knees buckle.
You catch yourself, barely. One hand hits the snow, the other grips a fencepost to keep from collapsing completely. Everything aches. Your breath fogs in the cold.
Your shirt is soaked dark, tacky with blood. You blink. It’s all over your arms, dried at your elbows. Smeared on your palms.
You touch your side and wince. No. Not all hers.
Your ribs throb. Your vision wobbles... not darkness, just a haze creeping in at the edges. Like your body’s begging for rest, and you’re stubbornly refusing.
Someone crouches beside you, maybe the same person who took Katelyn. “You’re bleeding.”
You try to speak, but your jaw trembles too hard to get the words out. You settle for a grimace and a nod.
Strong hands ease you back upright. “Let’s get you inside.”
You’re not sure if you walk the last few feet or if they half-carry you, but the door swings open and warm air wraps around you like a second skin. You let it.
Because you're not passing out.
But you are done being strong.
Whoever it is sets you on a soft bed. You lean back against the wall, winching when your clothes contract over the wounds underneath.
Some of your stitches definitely opened up. Zoey's hard work, unfortunately, gone to waste.
"What's your name?" A voice asks you from behind your veil of haze, back in the real world.
Your focus shifts, a man was staring at you, his grey eyes analyzing you.
"What?" You asked, confused.
"What is your name?" he says a little slower this time.
You exhale, trying to gain some composure.
You blink slowly, trying to shake the fog from your head. It doesn't work.
"Your name?" the man asks again. His voice is low, steady, not unkind, but careful, like he’s walking the line between suspicion and sympathy.
He crouches beside the bed, a clean cloth and a bowl of water in hand. That’s when you really see him.
Dark hair falls in loose waves across his forehead, damp at the temples from exertion. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle, calloused hands stained faintly with salt and earth. Everything about him is broad and solid—like he was carved from the same stone as the cliffs outside. Definitely a farmer, or maybe a fisherman. Someone used to hauling nets and chopping wood and doing it all before dawn.
And yet, his touch is gentle.
You flinch as he reaches toward you, but he pauses, letting you see his hands before they touch you. “You’re hurt. Badly.”
You hesitate. Your whole body aches, and the adrenaline has thinned to nothing. You’re cold, you’re bleeding, and trying to be tough now feels... stupid.
Still, you mutter, “Why do you care what my name is?”
His grey eyes, surprisingly clear and warm for someone who looks like he could lift a tree, hold yours steadily. “Because if I’m going to stitch you back together, I’d like to know what to call you.”
You stare at him for a moment longer. Then finally, “…It’s Y/n.”
“Rudi,” he says, dipping the cloth into the water. “This might sting.”
It does. But his hands are steady and capable, and something about the closeness, his quiet strength, the smell of smoke and salt clinging to him, grounds you more than it unnerves you.
“You crash onto our shore, half-dead, dragging someone twice your size, and still you act like you're the one who has to fight,” he murmurs, a hint of amusement beneath the concern.
“I’m used to people being worse,” you admit quietly. “Safer to assume the worst normally.”
He doesn’t argue. He just hums, focused on cleaning the wound along your ribs. The warmth of the fire, the rhythm of his movements, the slow unraveling of pain—all of it lulls you into something just shy of peace.
“You tore your stitches,” Rudi says. “Whoever patched you up before did a good job.”
You nod faintly. “Zoey.”
“She kept you alive. Let’s keep it that way.”
You quietly mourn the beautiful dress you received while in Phoenix Drop. The embroidery down the sides is now nothing but threads. Everything was sliced and easily ripped by the dried saltwater.
You're sure you look awful.
He works quietly after that, binding your side with clean gauze, each wrap of the cloth drawing your awareness further back into your body. The room smells like woodsmoke and something herbal, and the sharp sting of cold has faded into a dull ache.
“She okay?” you ask, voice hoarse. “Katelyn.”
He nods. “Broken leg. She’s asleep. We gave her something for the pain.”
Relief sweeps through you like warmth. You let your head rest back against the wall, exhaling slowly.
“You can rest too,” Rudi says, standing. His frame seems even larger from below, and when he offers you a brief smile, it’s warm enough to thaw the edge in your chest.
You’re not sure you trust him yet.
But it’s hard not to when he looks like that.
Suddenly, commotion from outside, people shouting. Both yours and Rudi's attention snaps to the door.
Rudi moves quickly to the door, and you follow a little slower.
He holds the door open as you both peek your head out.
You squint into the pale morning light.
Three figures stumble out of the woods.
You recognize them instantly, but your reaction doesn’t come like some flood of joy; it just settles, heavy and strange, in your chest. Like your heart can’t decide whether to beat faster or stop altogether.
You let out a slow breath, sharp with cold, as a few villagers rush past you with blankets. You don’t move at first. You just stand there, watching them limp closer. Aphmau leaning into Aaron, Laurance dragging his left leg behind him, blood caked down the side of his face. Aaron looks the least injured, but even he’s gripping his ribs tight, and what face you can see is pale with pain.
Rudi steps up beside you, his brow furrowed. “You know them?”
You nod once. “Sort of.”
He gives you a sideways glance but doesn’t push.
Aphmau’s gaze lifts and finds yours. For a split second, her expression shifted, relief, confusion, something softer. “You made it,” she says, voice hoarse.
You nod again. “So did you.”
It’s all you can manage. You want to say more, but your throat feels tight. You were a guest on their ship, not part of their crew. Not really.
Laurance gives you a crooked grin. “Didn’t think we’d find you playing house with the locals.”
You exhale a quiet huff, half a laugh. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”
Then someone’s shouting behind you, “Get them inside!” and the moment breaks. Rudi brushes your arm gently. “Come on.”
You nod, stepping aside so the villagers can rush in. You don’t offer your help, not because you don’t care, but because you’re not sure if it’s your place.
You trail after them quietly as they’re led toward the longhouse. And despite the cold still biting at your skin and the ache that’s settled deep in your bones, something inside you finally eases.
Making it inside the largest house, you're greeted by more warmth and the smell of something homey.
The room, which clearly used to be a living room, was now converted into a makeshift infirmary. Cots lined the walls, and medical supplies were strewn about, with a large fire keeping the space warm.
You step out of the way, watching these kind strangers bustle about to try to save your companions.
You stay against the wall for a moment, still trying to understand how you should feel about everything, when Rudi comes over, leaning casually against the wall. His shadow consumes you, blocking the light of the fire from touching you entirely.
"They'll be alright." He says quietly, attempting comfort.
There’s a beat of silence between you, the kind that doesn’t feel awkward, just still. Like the world is giving you a moment to breathe.
Rudi doesn’t push. He just stays there beside you, arms crossed loosely, watching the room with that quiet, steady presence of his. It’s strange how comforting it is, how solid he feels in all this chaos.
You shift your weight, eyes drifting across the space. Aphmau is seated now, her boots off, someone wrapping her ankle. Aaron sits a few cots away, cradling a steaming mug in both hands like it’s the only thing anchoring him. And Laurance, typical Laurance, tries to charm one of the villagers tending to him, but the edge in his voice gives him away.
They’re alive. That should be enough.
So why do you still feel like a ghost in the room?
“They’re lucky,” Rudi says, voice low. “Not just to be alive, but to have someone who came here ahead of them. Someone to get help ready.”
You look up at him. There’s no teasing in his tone. No angle. Just… sincerity.
You almost don’t know what to do with it.
“I didn’t do much,” you murmur. “I just walked.”
Rudi smiles faintly, but doesn’t argue. “Sometimes, that’s the hardest part.”
The heat from the fire brushes your arms now, he’s stepped just enough to the side for it to find you. You let the warmth in, bit by bit.
Then, a voice calls your name.
She’s sitting up now, eyes on you, that same soft look from earlier still in her face.
You walk over to her cot, kneeling to get on her level.
“You okay?” she asks, quiet, but genuine.
You hesitate, then nod. “I’m fine.”
You’re not. But maybe… you’re getting there.
"I don't know if you heard, but Katelyn's okay. She was pretty banged up, but she's alive."
She lets out a small sigh of relife.
You shake your head. You don't know why, but you know you don't feel deserving of any thanks.
"You should get some rest, Lady Aphmau."
She smiles again when another nurse brings her some soup and medicine. You walk back to your spot on the wall.
Rudi's eyes were glued to you.
Not in a way that made you feel watched, exactly, but noticed. Like he saw something in you that you hadn’t quite seen in yourself yet.
You settle back against the wall, crossing your arms more for comfort than defense. The ache in your body is settling deeper now that the adrenaline has worn off completely.
“You always brush off gratitude like that?” Rudi asks after a moment, voice low and casual.
You don’t look at him. Just stare ahead at the fire. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“I disagree,” he says simply. “But maybe that’s not for me to decide.”
You glance over, and there’s no judgment in his expression. Just calm. Steady. He’s the kind of person who makes silence feel like a conversation.
You don’t know what to say to that. So you say nothing.
He seems to understand. He just nods a little and looks away, letting the quiet stretch between you.
For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel heavy.
Heyyyyy Lovies!!!! I hope you liked chapter 10! I'm trying to write more before school starts again. Any support is appreciated! I also love feedback!
