#now we do full-blown hikes in the woods :)

[ebonysplendor]

Where Winter Crows Go Review ❄️🐦‍⬛

TL;DR: Chaga mushrooms ain't the only thing that Crowe be foraging, but this time he doesn't want to share the spoils with the squad for research purposes.

Game Link: https://prikarin.itch.io/where-winter-crows-go

Notable Features: Gender Neutral MC, Optional Reader-Insert with choice of pronouns, Yandere LI, 17+ Spiciness: 1/5 -- It gets a little flirty, but it's sweet and innocent LI Red Flags: 3/5 -- Manipulative, little hands on, has a temper

Want to know more? Well, let's get into it!

Okay, so, the full release finally came, and ya girl was SO excited! The demo was very promising, but I needed a little more convincing. That being said, this wasn't by any means one of the one's that I was the most ecstatic about, but I was still excited enough about it to check back occasionally for the full release. I just so happened to get lucky recently and saw that it had actually dropped back in November. So, I was late, but not embarrassingly so. Now, this review on the other hand... But listen! I just recently decided to take the plunge and start making reviews, so mind ya business lol.

Anyways, this isn't about me and my tardiness, this is about this pleasant little game that really went for it in the full version, and boi, did they go for it!

I'd classify this as one of those "slow burn" visual novels, simply because it's not obvious that our LI is a lil' psycho off the rip, and there's nothing too unsettling from the jump aside from getting caught in a blizzard. Actually, since we're on the topic, the LI -- his name is Crowe Lynn, by the way -- is actually pretty damn hospitable, and he's a full blown scientist. The most shocking part is, he isn't even doing anything sketchy! for the most part. He is deadass living in the middle of nowhere for research purposes and is writing books to know why nature is...well, naturing, for lack of better wording.

That being said, I think the intro is long enough, and I'm really excited to tell you more about this game, because you guys have got to play this whenever you get the chance! As always, I'm going to tell you as much as possible about the game without ruining the game itself.

So, boom. We're -- or Aspen, should you decide to play through their eyes, but I prefer self-insert -- going on a trip in our favorite run down car to get to some town where there is supposed to be this really nice place to let off some steam via skiing. Trust me, we did research on this; we know what we're talking about. Anyways, while driving, we start noticing how we've been on this same road for a long time, and yet, we haven't seen anybody for an equally long time.

Run down car? Long road? No one for miles? You already know what's about to happen.

Yep, you guessed it, we get a flat, and as you've also probably guessed, we have no spare tire, but bear with me! The game isn't this predictable, I swear! You've gotta understand that it can just be a little hard to get away from certain tropes, and let's be real, they kind've have to happen for plot purposes. I mean, think about if we actually had a tire in the trunk. We would've been outtie, we would've had a great trip, and there would've been no game lol. Sometimes, you just gotta cut the devs some slack.

Anywho, so yeah, flat tire and no spare. Naturally, we hike it to try to find some help, but the weather kind've picks up, and the clothes that we have, while appropriate for the cold, aren't adequate enough for a full blown blizzard. No worries though, because guess who comes to the rescue? This guy!

Everybody, this is Crowe. Crowe, this is everybody.

As you'd expect (I know I keep saying that, but lmao it's not a overly predictable game, I swear!), Crowe is this really chill dude. Actually, more than a chill dude, he's a massive nature nerd. That's actually why he's out in the middle of the woods anyways! Like I mentioned before, he's researching why nature be naturing, specifically -- at least, his current topic from the way it was worded is -- partial migration. If you've never heard of that, don't even worry about it, in the game he explains it to us. Like, I'm telling you. This man is super into this stuff, and we love a smart man.

Getting away from that though, he basically ends up telling us that the town that we're in is pretty much deserted with the exception of like 13 other people, and because of the blizzard, the time it'd take to clean the roads, the likelihood of there being another blizzard right behind the one that just happened, and cleaning up after that blizzard, getting to our planned destination just wasn't going to happen. ...Well, shit.

What are we going to do then? Our car has a flat, we can't travel, and there's not any resorts nearby. No worries though, because the bae came through! He said "Oh, you can just stay with me!" Oh wooooooord???

So guess what we do? Make ourselves cozy in this bomb ass cabin. I'm not even exaggerating about that. Like, this cabin is REALLY nice! Take a peek!

That's just our room and the hallway. You can only imagine how bomb the rest of the place looks. Like, I'm telling y'all, it's super cozy up in here. But we must stay focused! And by we, I mean me, because I could go on and on about how nice this cabin looks.

Back to the topic at hand though, we've agreed to stay with Crowe, even though, we honestly don't have much of a choice, but it was just dope that Crowe was cool with everything. That being said, during our stay, we do all kinds of pretty cool stuff! We go foraging with him for chaga mushrooms and winterberries, we create some powders to add to other stuff, and we make some medicines. Everything was going super smoothly ... until it wasn't.

Crowe kind've has...a weird temper. Like, we had accidentally gotten hurt, and he had gotten super pissed about it. We love a man that cares about his guest, but he was a bit overdramatic about it. You'd think we would've lost a limb or something. The main thing that got him really pissed, though, was when we had mentioned our car and implied leaving. He did not like that, and when I say we got into it bad? Oh, the insults were flying. Like, look at this!

So, yeah, we fought, and what about it? It's whatever. Forget him...

...Actually, we felt really bad about the whole thing, and so did he. We talked it out, and everything was all good again; however, now he's acting really weird, we're getting really suspicious, and we still have to get home. That being said, we call it an early night, borrow one of his books, and pretty much make a gameplan so we can figure out how to get home as well as what the hell is going on that is not only making Crowe act weird, but what is going on in general.

And we do! We sneak out the next morning and ... we actually make things worse because now, we're REALLY confused. I'm not going to get into the details, but just know that there are more questions than answers at this point. So, yeah, while the investigating helped, it only helped a little, and I genuinely mean only a little.

One thing that we know for sure though...

This man is definitely crazy in love with us.

And that's all I'm going to tell you! Lol I'm sorry! But if I tell you the rest, it'll literally be the ending, and it'll ruin it! You know how much I want you guys to play it, so no way am I going to spill the details, but like most visual novels, how it ends is completely up to the choices that you make.

Guys...the full game delivered.

I prefer choice heavy visual novels like Darling Duality and Forcefully Yours, but this still wasn't bad by any means. I actually thought it was quite good! Like I said, the most shocking thing to me about all of this is that this man is deadass a scientist! Like, he really isn't doing anything entirely sketchy out there! That was the biggest plot twist of the century to me! But, anyways, letting go of that. Let me tell you more of my thoughts on the game, and why I feel like you should play it whenever you get the chance.

The visuals are absolutely stunning, first and foremost. So far, my favorite VN visual wise has been Mushroom Oasis, but this is definitely a solid number 2 spot. I absolutely adore the art style. I also appreciate the revamp that they did with Crowe. There is nothing wrong with femboys by any means, but to me, Crowe was a little girly looking, and he very much so looked like a small child lol. Like look at the difference in this.

This is the old Crowe Lynn

And this is the new Crowe Lynn

Lol you see what I mean? He looked like a child that wanted to be a scientist when he grew up versus the actual adult him that chose science as a profession. The redesign was definitely a good choice, and I love how he looks now, especially with the longer hair and worn out lab coat. What do you think, though? Which did you prefer?

Aside from that though, you know what one of my favorite things about the game was? The fact that -- and listen close, because this is about to be a tip! -- the endings that you get are based more on how the character feels about Crowe versus how Crowe feels about us. How curious is that?

In a majority of visual novels, the endings are literally dependent on how far we push the LI or their affinity for us, but it's not like that in this one. We get a different ending based on if we trust him or not, if we flirt back with him or ignore his remarks, and some other factors that I don't want to include and possible spoil the story. I just thought that was a really interesting take, and that was super creative of the developer. It was definitely refreshing to play as more of myself and base the gameplay on my -- or rather my character's -- feelings versus playing for the LI and his feelings.

With all that in mind, I definitely say give this game a go! It has a nice mystery/suspense to it, and not to mention, there is a really bomb song during the credits. I was so sad to see that it was not on Spotify! Well, let me clarify, it IS, but it's not available to me which sucks ass. It's not even on YouTube, and it hurts me so bad! Ugh!

Anyways, in case my feelings and opinions weren't clear -- play this game, play this game, play this game, play this game! As always, be sure to leave your comments on the dev's page if you feel like they've done a good job, and you want to give them that extra reassurance to keep making games. Of course, donations are always helpful to them as well! Like mentioned at the very top, here is a link to the game so that you can play it for yourself, and I really want you to play it for yourself!

That's all from me! Drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Where Winter Crows Go

#yandere visual novel #visual novel review #visual novel #yandere visual novel review #yandere vn #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere male #where winter crows go #where winter crows go vn #where winter crows go visual novel #wwcg #wwcg vn #where winter crows go visual novel review #vn review #where winter crows go vn review #wwcg vn review #where winter crows go crowe #crowe #crowe lynn

[quills-of-freedom]

Oluo Bozado Relationship, Vibe & Various

🙊

🦅

🧨

🧤

⚙

⚔

🪔

📜

🍣

💐

Although Oluo appears to be a little patronising and it sometimes seems he talks out of his ass, it's because he cares. Olou comes from a big family so underneath his attempts of being a stoic soldier like his captain, is just a front to hide his big heart.

But, just because he has a big heart, doesn't mean he can't be a cheeky ass at times - because we all know he can and is.

Maybe it's because he is from a large, loving family that he feels the need to prove himself and stand out from the rest. He already is a talented Soldier, but to him, it just doesn't seem enough.

Ideal Dates

Oluo would adore just sitting in a peaceful garden while sipping some tea. He loves the outdoors but the more peaceful side to it. Isn't one for hiking etc - he does enough of that at work. So a bird chirping garden full of trees and pruned rose-bushes is his idea of heaven.

A glutton for relaxing and a good home-cooked meal. Hot springs / hot tubs, saunas etc is where he will be when relaxing, so expect that is where he takes you for some alone time.

He's older and a little old fashioned. He has traditional outlooks and beliefs, as we've seen, and expects the wife to do the housework and watch the children while he works his dangerous job. He's not an ass about it though, he never mistreats you. Taking the old fashioned man into account, expect flowers, courting, arm linking and the likes.

Modern AU

I can still see Olou being in the military in an AU. With that point of wanting to prove himself and thrives from being the protector of those he cares about.

Again, he's skilled at what he does, it's in his DNA so it transcends reality dimensions.

Likes to work with wood and build things. Often in his workshop in the bottom of your beautiful garden, carving and building things.

When he has been working in his workshop and you call him in for dinner, has that wonderful working man smell. You know what I'm talking about.

Life with Olou would be so traditional and wholesome.

Loves picking you up some flowers now and again, gifts, anything to brighten your day a little. He knows it's a burden being on this planet and he wants to lighten the weight for you as much as he can.

NSFW

Olou will not have sex with you out of wedlock. It's just how he is. He's traditional and comes from a large, loving family that wasn't broken. (Lucky him, huh?)

So he will court you for a few months before he proposes. Really like 1940's style of romance. But oh lord, let's get into it...

Just because he has been chivalrous and a gentleman, does not mean he hasn't had dirty thoughts and desires for you, because god damn, he has.

He's not shy either - as soon as you're alone on your wedding night he is all over you like a bear on honey.

It's actually really fuckin' hot. He's weirdly confident and knows what he's doing. Ravishes you with such passion, all the while wearing a cheeky smirk.

During married life, expect him to roll over to you in bed pretty often, his hunger is deep so you'd better prepare to serve.

Always ensures you're having a good time though. But he can sometimes be selfish in bed. Nothing too bad but enough to irk you sometimes. (Hey, married life ain't ever perfect.)

Kinks

Dom. With his old fashioned ways we've discussed, he likes to be in charge of his partner under the sheets.

If you top him, it's because he's led you to do that, gripping your hips while you ride him.

Service kink. Both ways. Loves it when you service him as a good wife / husband should. Also adores to service you; it turns him on beyond words when he knows he's providing things every man should for his partner.

Oral. He whimpers like crazy whenever you take him into your mouth. It's his utter weakness.

Aftercare

On your wedding night, he's so blown away he's literally at your service for whatever you need. Massages, drinks, food etc.

As time goes on, he still cares for you after just not as... how would I put it... he's not like a love drunk puppy about it. Will hold you, speak soft things and tell you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you.

He will never take you for granted, but he does get used to you, if you know what I'm trying to say.

DATES 7/10

THOUGHTFULNESS 8/10

AFFECTION 9/10

SEX 7/10

AFTERCARE 8/10

#snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk headcanons #aot headcanons

[schizowitchic]

thing my mum is currently mad about: that i am not helping with the housework (ive literally been home all day with a migraine and period cramps so bad i can barely stand, as well as being exhausted bordering on sleep deprived from exams for the past week).

massive vent under the cut that goes super off topic.

tw for fatphobia and mild ableism and mentions of suicidality and poor mental health

like be more mad at my siblings who are not ill and perfectly capable of helping? before he left (hes away for the weekend) my dad was like "make sure to help ur mum this evening since im away so i cant" like hello? im literally ill at the moment. i get that my mum is super stressed and tired as well but like. right now. im literally physically ill. ive had almost ten full blown panic attacks in the past week.

ALSO ive tidied and hoovered my room, i collected wood from the shed in the garden from the fire, and changed all the hand towels over to clean ones so it's not like ive done nothing at all. ive emptied and refilled the dishwasher as well. plus whenever she's said "can you get this for me" ive gotten up to get it for her.

furthermore she hasn't asked us to do specific tasks so like. i have no idea what needs doing. im always available to do stuff if im directly asked (bc it's not like i can refuse without getting complained at all evening) so idk how im meant to telepathically know what house work she wants us to be doing. and even when we do help she always complains that we dont do it in the right way but never tells us what to do just complain about how incompetent we are

like im gonna be honest i just end up feeling less motivated to keep even my own room tidy. and that im constantly never enough for her. bc even when im sure ive done all the things i should. theres always something else i shouldve known how to do, or that bc ive never done it before that somehow erases that ive made process

for example she's always on at me about shaving and washing my face and etc. and like. im mentally ill. it is such a struggle to get up and get clean each day. and i was super proud of the fact that i now manage to clean my face at least once a day every day now. but that's not enough for her is it "you should be washing your face twice a day". and i was like "but surely one is better than the none it was before" and she just gave me a look like i was being ridiculous. and she's always on at me about shaving hair from my legs, getting rid of hair on my face and my back. i never was selfconscious about my appearance until she said i would be bullied for having hair, until she used the words "rolls of fat" to describe my stomach, until she said the slight bulges on the back of a dress were unflattering and would make people bully me, until she said that i needed to lose weight and exercise more. (for context on how ridiculously fatphobic this is. im skinny. i have high metabolism. but that's not enough for her)

the worst part is that she has no idea how harmful this stuff is. she thinks this is how to show she cares. that she's doing it for us. to the point where i feel bad putting this rant out onto the internet where like 5 people will see it. but then. just bc i know she loves me doesnr mean i feel like im loved.

like. im not even allowed to be tired or stressed without her saying how her job is so much worse so she has it so much worse (not like she witnessed my mental breakdown aged 15 not like she's accompanied me to mental health appointments for anxiety). we both had covid at the same time and whenever i was like "damn i feel like shit" well guess who felt like even more shit? and she always says how we get more days off if we're sick and it's like. you control how many sick days you have. plus she'll complain about how she never gets to rest and stuff but like i see her resting???? and also. im expected to still help out if we've gone on a long hike all day (i have severe joint pain) but im meant to be able to continue past that and not let it stop me

also neither her or my dad will say the word autism. it's always "neurodivergent" "neurodiverse" (why i not always a fan of "neurodivergent traits are x") they won't tell my siblings i cant discuss my pending diagnosis with them in front of my siblings like it's some bad thing that needs to be hidden. bro its just autism.

idk my main issue is that she complains about how i sit around on my phone/reading and it's like. well. do you even know how much i have to distract myself to stay alive. but she's really fucking annoying when she's concerned for my wellbeing (like toxic positivity. meditate do yoga solve all your problems type shit). lmao whatever whatever im going to uni this year

#personal #vent #dont touch #don't touch #probably delete later #delete later

[megadavestewart]

WFS 363 – 7 Leave No Trace Principles with Gary Huey and Peter Murry

Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/363

Presented By: Bearvault

Sponsors: https://wetflyswing.com/sponsors

Peter Murry and Gary Huey share the 7 Leave No Trace Principles to explore the outdoors sustainably and how we can all be a solution to conservation.

We discover what they have going on to keep your natural areas clean and diverse, which auto manufacturer is leading the way in conservation, and what you can do today even if you're just camping at a local park.

How can we be more responsible outdoors and how do BearVault canisters help us to leave no trace? Listen to this episode to find out.

Leave No Trace Show Notes with Gary Huey and Peter Murry

4:05 - Gary's first backpacking trip during a study-away program was when he first learned about Leave No Trace. 

5:00 - Peter grew up fly fishing in the upper Midwest. He went to a school up in the Driftless Region where there are phenomenal areas for fly fishing, mountain biking, and climbing. He studied in South Africa for a year where he joined a mountain club. That's where he had his first true introduction to the organization.

9:57 - Peter emphasized that the 7 Leave No Trace Principles are more like a framework than direct guidelines. These principles are meant to be adaptable and flexible depending on the activity. That general guideline of being aware and present is what they strive for when applying that to outdoor spaces.

The 7 Principles of Leave No Trace 1. Plan ahead and prepare. - Gary says it's the principle of all principles. 2. Travel and camp on durable surfaces. 3. Dispose waste properly. 4. Leave what you find for the next person to enjoy. 5. Minimize campfire impacts. 6. Respect wildlife - Rule of thumb: Put your hand out straight with your thumb up. If the thumb completely covers the animal, you're at a safe distance. 7. Be considerate of others. Recognize that everyone has the right to be outdoors in their own unique ways.

16:12 - Gary talks about poop as a big problem, especially in the backcountry areas. Peter recommends packing poop depending on where you're at because different ecosystems have different abilities to process human waste.

When in doubt, use a WAG (Waste Alleviation and Gelling) bag, but recognize that what you do in the Pacific Northwest is not necessarily what you're gonna do in the Southwest.

18:17 - Gary recommends some brands of WAG bags such as Restop and The WAG Bag (now known as Cleanwaste).

19:15 - Peter shares how lnt.org got started. Leave No Trace as a concept has been around for quite some time. It was originally a guideline developed by National Park Service and a group of land managers in the '60s. It was then adapted and adjusted into a full-blown conservation-minded organization in 1994.

20:53 - Gary explains how tossing food even as small as apple cores if you're in a thick wooded forest can disrupt wildlife. It takes time for these food wastes to break down. He suggests to just pack them out instead of just tossing them on the ground.

21:58 - Peter mentions the slogan "A fed bear is a dead bear", emphasizing that even a small amount of food left in the wildlife can attract squirrels and other small animals which then can attract large animals. It's important to not feed animals in the wild. Animal interaction can have detrimental effects on the ecosystem.

23:23 - Peter talks about the science and research behind Leave No Trace. Before they put out any education and information, it goes through a very rigorous process and has been vetted by a committee with representatives from the five major national land managers as well as university professors who do research on human interaction in the outdoors.

25:10 - Gary recommends using bear canisters, such as the ones from BearVault, as it is becoming a requirement now.

29:01 - The Leave No Trace principles were originally developed for hiking and backcountry, but they're now adapting the LNT ethics to the backyard and the everyday users like those having a picnic in the local park and quick day hike in a somewhat urban park.

30:47 - Peter encourages everyone to check them out on their social media accounts and follow their website for updates on their programs. Gary encourages everyone to volunteer and participate even on social media if they cannot go to their events.

33:00 - As a minimalist packer who also loves dehydrated food, Peter recommends the BV425-Sprint BearVault canister which is perfect for quick 1-2 day outdoor trips. Gary likes the medium-size one which is the BV450-Jaunt.

36:35 - I gave a shoutout to REYR Gear for their collapsible fly rods that pack out in seconds.

38:13 - Peter doesn't leave without a good pair of polarized sunglasses. His current favorite is the Ferg sunglasses from Costa. Another one is an inflatable pillow from Big Agnes, one of their great partners in Leave No Trace.

39:42 - Peter recommends diving into local non-profit organizations that are doing important work on conservation on a smaller level.

42:00 - Gary talks about Subaru, one of their biggest partners. The car company has a Zero Landfill Initiative wherein they try to get a few national parks to go zero landfill. Subaru also sponsors their travels to be able to go around the country and educate more people.

43:00 - Peter talks about the Outdoor Retailer (OR) event which is one of the staple gatherings in the industry. It's got a little bit of everything. A lot of those are general apparel outdoor groups. If you're a gear junkie, there's no better place for sure.

45:00 - Peter mentions other brands and organizations that support the conservation work they are doing, such as Fjallraven and Big Agnes. He also encourages everyone to be mindful of where these brands are doing and putting their money.

47:25 - Gary shares their upcoming activities in the summer and next year.

48:26 - Peter encourages everyone to check out their membership plan in their website to access resources and other information about the organization.

Show Notes: https://wetflyswing.com/363

Check out this episode!

[woodsy-hoe]

your cats hike?? how?

like this :)

#but honestly though it took a lot of harness + leash training in our yard #now we do full-blown hikes in the woods :) #asked and answered #mine #adventure cat #hiking cats #cat video #catblr #cats #mostlycatsmostly

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Very Okay

I was consumed with the urge to write some domestic smut so here's some soft dads Widomauk just banging it out at the end of a long week. Huge thanks to my wonderful enablers @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short

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Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3!

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“...and then Una said next week she’s swimming for her Level 2 badge and she’s a little nervous, she’s got to go a whole lap. She’ll be fine, of course, but she has that whole thing about putting her head underwater so we need to make sure we keep an eye on her.”

Molly nodded, shifting so his tail wasn’t trapped under his leg, “She’ll do a wonderful job, she goes through the water like a shark. Literally, with the teeth…”

“And Trinket needs a costume put together, it’s World Book Day on Friday and apparently preschool kids have Fairy Tales as their theme? So I was thinking we could just swipe something from when your theatre group did Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s a little short notice and I thought that would save you having to sew something new.”

“Yeah, he loves messing around back there anyway,” Molly nodded, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, trying to angle his chest forward, “So, um…”

“Oh!” Caleb’s finger shot into the air, sending a wave of water over the edge of the tub, “Before I forget! I have to take the kittens to get their vaccinations at the vets tomorrow so if you could watch the bookstore for me, that would be such a huge help.”

“Of course baby, I can do that, but don’t you think we should maybe-”

“Thank you! I promise I’ll be super quick, I have this thing at the Academy, apparently professors are supposed to go to parties? That wasn’t on the job description-”

“Caleb,” Molly couldn’t help himself, reaching up and taking hold of his husband’s face, doing his absolute best not to laugh, “Listen, I love catching up with you but this is our date night and you were kind of about to start fucking me and it seems we’ve stalled a little? If we could get back on that, it would be great.”

Caleb took a few long, slow blinks, his eyes then travelling around him like he was only just noticing the fact that he was sharing a bathtub, naked, pressed up against his equally naked husband. Or rather, remembering that he was, it seemed like he’d been pretty into the idea when he’d been tearing Mollymauk’s clothes off and tipping him into the water.

“Oh,” his face flushed so quickly it can’t have had anything to do with the heat of the water, “I’m killing the mood, aren’t I?”

That was all of Molly’s available composure, he snorted as laughter tore it’s way out of his chest, sending his head knocking back against the rim of the tub. After a few moments, Caleb started giggling too, helplessly putting his hands over his face.

“I mean, it started well,” Molly cackled, hugging his arms around himself, as it happened sharing a tub between two people didn’t leave much water to cover you, “Y’know, growling that you were going to touch me until I screamed, that was a real good start to date night? It only went South when you started coordinating our schedules…”

Caleb groaned, tilting forward until he was resting his head on Molly’s shoulder, strands of hair falling out of his bun and drinking the water, “Sorry...There was just one thing I wanted to tell you and then it kept going.”

“It’s alright,” Molly chuckled, still cradling his head, pressing his lips to his head, “I do feel like we’ve hardly talked this week.”

“That’s just it!” Caleb sighed, melting a little in his husband’s arms, gingerly letting him take his weight, “Between the store and now me being an associate professor and you doing tech week, I feel like I only see you when I bump into you in the hallway.”

Molly had to admit he was right. Of course he was endlessly proud of his husband, the fact that he’d had the courage to even step over the threshold of the Soltryce Academy after everything he’d been through there, let alone accept a job and try and make the place better, was incredible. Making this huge step in his recovery all while maintaining the little bookstore he’d been running for the last few years, coming home tired and smiling every day, satisfied and certain of his place in the world. It was everything Molly had wanted for him.

But he couldn’t lie, he was starting to miss him.

Mollymauk smiled softly as he traced his fingers through his hair, “Well, I’m kind of glad it’s not just me who was thinking that...that’s kind of why I asked if we could make tonight a date night.”

Molly felt Caleb deflate a little in his arms, “And I turned it into some kind of press conference. I’m sorry, Mollymauk.”

Starting to purr, the tiefling’s tail found its way around Caleb’s leg, squeezing like some kind of comforting snake, “I’ll hear no apologies from you, Mr Caleb. What I wanted was to spend time with you and that’s what I’ve got. Minus clothes too, which is a nice bonus.”

Caleb made a soft, decisive noise, pulling himself back up, bracing his hands on the rim of the bath either side of Molly’s head.

“But if I went back to that whole ‘touch you until you scream’ thing? Would that be alright?” his smile turned crooked.

Molly unsuccessfully suppressed an undignified squeak of mixed shock and arousal, his smile flaring into a full blown grin.

“Oh that would be pretty okay too, yeah.”

Caleb gave one of those rough, rumbling laughs that Molly loved so much, the ones that only came out when Molly knew he was about to become the sole focus of Caleb’s not inconsiderable attention, when the brain that normally went in ten different directions and most of those on other planes of reality, was about to zero in on him and him alone.

Molly yelped as he felt surprisingly strong arms slide under him and lift him out of the water, sending rain pattering down from their bodies.

“Babe!” Molly locked his arms around his shoulders like a vice, “This is romantic and all but you’ve got skinny noodle arms!”

“Charming,” Caleb snorted, “You don’t weigh all that much, Liebling. I won’t drop you.”

Before Molly could properly address his doubt about that- he’d once watched his husband struggle for twenty minutes to open a jar of peanut butter that wasn’t even new- they were moving, water scattering generously along the hallway. Apparently lifting books all day was better for your upper body strength than Mollymauk had realised because, true to his word, Molly wasn’t dropped until he was tumbled into bed, Caleb following pretty soon after.

Eagerly he dragged him closer, pressing their lips together, barely letting a heartbeat pass before he slid his tongue across Caleb’s. He hiked his legs up around his husband’s waist like he was anchoring him there, like any bare inch between their bodies was just unbearable. Caleb’s hands felt like they were everywhere, so much so that Molly wasn’t convinced there wasn’t magic involved. Just the warm, roughened touch of his broad hands sliding across his shoulders, following the curve of his spine to press their bodies closer, kneading the softness of his thighs. Everywhere he needed him, Caleb was there and still it didn’t feel like enough.

Almost the exact moment he had that thought, he was turning, rolling, until suddenly he was on top and Caleb was grinning wickedly up at him, his normally bright blue eyes dark with want.

“Want to ride my tongue, Liebling?” he purred roughly, knowing the answer full well but still wanting to hear him say it.

Molly obliged him, whimpering, “Oh fuck yes.”

It wasn’t that people would look at Mollymauk and expect him to always prefer the dominant role in bed, he was well aware of the vibes he gave off and cultivated them carefully (though if anyone were to let their gaze linger more closely they’d notice the two fingernails on his right hand kept deliberately short). It was more that they would notice Caleb, hiding behind his hair and hunching his shoulders and never speaking above a low murmur and never imagine him as the kind of person to take control. Of anything really, let alone someone like Molly. He didn’t look like he could command a one person canoe in a swimming pool.

How little they knew.

Molly gripped the headboard so hard that the nails he did keep long and wickedly sharp bit into the wood, levering himself up a little, bracketing Caleb’s head with his knees. He hovered at first, even as his thighs trembled with anticipation, with the intense sensation of those eyes examining him meticulously. Suddenly he was incredibly aware of how wet he was, conscious of every bead of slick, every pulse of heat through him, the stiffness of his cock.

No one would look at Caleb and see a man capable of nearly making his husband come from eyes alone.

“So cruel of me to make you wait,” Caleb’s voice was a rumble in his chest, “And yet you look so beautiful when you’re desperate…”

“Caleb,” Molly whined, teeth gritted, the lightest brush of his husband’s breath enough to make him beg shamelessly, “Please.”

“My apologies,” Caleb’s accent got noticeably thicker when he was turned on, like the part of his brain usually keeping him in Common was slipping. Or perhaps he just knew it drove Molly wild, “Just admiring…”

He took hold of Molly’s thighs and pulled him down, until Molly felt the rough scrape of his beard against his flesh, the contact after so long waiting wrenching a soft cry from him. Then he felt his wizard’s lips part, his tongue, warmer, trace a teasing path between the valley of him and the cry became a throaty moan. He couldn’t help it, almost immediately he was rocking his hips, seeking more, every nerve ending screaming for it.

Caleb tapped his thigh smartly, half in warning that he hadn’t given permission, half in warning that- while drowning in him would be a rather pleasant way to go- he’d prefer not to go at all if the option was there. Molly forced himself to still, even as it made him ache between the legs, tipping his head back and taking deep, desperate gulps of air.

Back in control, Caleb rewarded him with broad, generous strokes of his tongue, keeping it flat so Molly felt every inch of it. He took his cock in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue, scraping lightly with his teeth, kissing and lapping and sucking like he was eating some fruit. Finally, he found his entrance, probing gently and then far less gently, pulling him close so he could plunge deeper.

Molly was as vocal as ever, clinging to the headboard for dear life, tail stiff and straight in the air. He’d learned, he kept his hips still but there was no need, Caleb was in control. He rocked him back and forth, using every ounce of this surprising strength, giving Mollymauk everything he needed, leaving him nothing left to take.

Molly’s frantic, formless moans and screams haphazardly threw themselves into something close to words, “Caleb, I...oh fuck, baby, I’m...gonna…”

Through the haze of it all, he felt two quick taps on his thigh, Caleb’s affirmative answer. His signal that it was okay to fall, that Caleb would catch him.

And so he did. A last scream tearing its way from his raw throat, Molly’s shoulders locked and his chin hit his chest as it all rolled through him, as it lit him up from the inside out. He couldn’t have said how long it lasted, only that when it was done with him he felt as exhausted as he ever had. Enough that when he started to sway too hard and fell, he didn’t have the strength to catch himself.

But Caleb did. Moving quickly, he sat up and wrapped his arms around his husband, snagging him before he could tumble off the bed.

“Easy there…” he panted, grinning.

Molly’s eyelids felt leaden but he couldn’t bear not to look at Caleb right now, smiling wonkily back and leaning into his embrace, “You are fucking magical.”

Caleb giggled, gently laying him down against the pillows, curling on his side beside him. The lower half of his face was shining in the low light, his smile soft and shy and sweet again. Molly reached up and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, like he was worried he would disappear if he didn’t.

Caleb caught his wrist, turning his head and pressing a kiss to his palm, “I’m right here, Liebling. I’m right here.”

Molly exhaled in gentle relief, his eyes slowly gaining focus, “You...lie next to me. Tell me everything you want to tell me, all about your day, all about...everything. I just want to listen to you. And then when my brain puts itself together it's your turn. Okay?”

Caleb nodded, eyes wide and eager and loving, “Very okay.”

#widomauk #modern au #critical role #smut #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #trans mollymauk

[imagine-darksiders]

I’m in the mood for angst so how bout a scenario where Karn takes Deaths human charge (Death has feelings for but hasn’t confessed) to explore since Reader used to hike and something happens to make Reader get hurt badly and get knocked out cold, Karn breaks down and picks them up and runs back to the forge and cries and yells for someone to help. Death sees his hurt and unconscious charge and completely looses it on Karn and when Reader wakes up, they tell Karn it’s not his fault?

Thundering footfalls resound off the walls of Tristone, each embellished by a wet splash as a young maker staggers through steadily pouring rain, his breath escaping in short, ragged gasps that send clouds of condensation billowing from his parted lips like smoke. 

There’s an unmistakable urgency to his gait and a wild-eyed look about him that bears a close resemblance to one beset by hysteria, or mania. 

Such a volatile state doesn’t come without reason however, as the Horseman - Death - soon discovers upon emerging from the makers’ forge. The old Reaper’s mood perfectly reflects the gloomy skies overhead, his dourness due in no small part to the absence of one, irrepressible human.

It isn’t your absence itself that has him irked, rather, it’s the fact that you’ve once again disappeared from TriStone without a word or a trace as has been a habit, of late. One that you seemed to have adopted after meeting your newfound friend, Karn.

Grumbling, Death shakes his head and allows the door of the forge to slam shut at his back, wondering where in the nine realms you and the maker could have scurried off to this time.

The Horseman is so preoccupied with his own thoughts, he barely takes notice of the rain that begins cascading down his spine, only glancing up when something utterly enormous barrels down the stone steps towards him and in the blink of an eye, he finds himself nearly run over by a panic-stricken youngling.

“Pup,” the Horseman drawls, a raised brow the only indication of surprise at the sight of the giant careening to a halt just in front of him, with arms cradled against a broad chest as though there’s something immeasurably delicate that he’s trying to hide behind his hefty biceps, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen that blasted human, have you?”

The youngling doesn’t respond at first, merely stares down at the Horseman with the same, fraught stare that’s so uncharacteristic of Karn, Death is instantly suspicious. 

“Pup…”He drops his voice to something low and dangerous, eyeing the flash of hair that pokes out above the maker’s arm. “Where is Y/n.”

At last, Karn’s eyes stop darting and settle properly on the Horseman, his pale pupils slowly coming into focus.“It… it was an accident,” he stammers miserable, bending down onto one knee and, with more care than the Horseman has ever seen him exert, unfurls his arms.

What he reveals ignites an icy rage in Death’s chest, born from an uncomfortable pang of alarm that he’d rather not acknowledge.

In the maker’s arms lays the very human Death had once pulled from the ruined Earth, the same human who has been his unorthodox companion over the last few weeks and who has been so, unwaveringly determined to make a friend out of him, the Horseman begrudgingly let his guard down and allowed a friendship to be cultivated, against his better judgement.

“Y/n?” he breathes, reaching a hand over Karn’s forearm and hovering the appendage warily above your head, from which rivulets of glistening blood trickle down into the creases around your eyes, each screwed tightly shut. The youngling’s broad chest is keeping you shielded from the rain, butDeath almost wishes it would fall on you just to wash away the crimson liquid running down from your hairline.

The Horseman almost succumbs to the immediate, knee-jerk reaction to find out how this happened, yet he reminds himself that standing in the rain and grilling a rattled maker for answers won’t get you the help you so clearly need.

So, swallowing down the urge to tear Karn’s head from his shoulders for allowing you to get hurt, Death grits histeeth and growls, “Eideard. Now.”

Then, as less of an afterthought and more of an instinct, he leans over Karn’s arm and slides his cold, raw-boned hands underneath your fragile, little body scooping you gently out of the maker’s hold and never once taking his eyes off your face.

Although Karn bridles a little at having you taken from him, he doesn’t argue, instead staggering to his feet and once more uttering, “It was an accident…”

Death, at least for the time being, ignores him to spin on a heel and march back towards the forge, his grip on you growing firmer as you roll your head floppily into his chest.

————————

A concussion, Eideard had eventually deduced after a brief minute of chaos ensued once Valus and Alya caught sight of you laying unresponsive and bleeding in Death’s arms.

The village elder had ushered the twins out fairly promptly with much protest and reluctance on their part, and then he’d had Death place you on the anvil where he set about trying to determine the cause of your injury. In the meantime, Karn had remained as close as he could get to the anvil, wringing his hands over one another and chewing a deep welt into his bottom lip.

With steady hands and softly murmured words, Eideard wove together a few healing spells, watered down to their most basic level of power to accommodate for your delicate, human frame. Every now and again, you would try to crack your eyes open and speak, but your words made no sense and blended together into an incomprehensible noise that Eideard would gently shush, reminding you to keep your eyes closed, lest the light cause you any more pain.

Finally, after far too long, in Death’s opinion, the wound on top of your head stops oozing blood as ancient magics stitch your skin back together and Eideard raises his eyes to give the Horseman a reassuring nod, his own relief palpable in the sagging of his titanic shoulders.

It’s only then that Death feels the immediate danger has passed.

Slowly, with the threatening glare of a predator, he turns his gaze to the youngling.

Death barely hears Eideard’s sharp warning not to take his frustrations out on Karn, he’s too sunken into his own fury and desperation. 

It’s with a primal kind of ferocity that he rounds on the young maker, his Reaper form rippling underneath the surface of his pale skin like a brewing storm, just moments away from exploding outwards into a full-blown tempest.

Karn feels a raw pulse of sickening energy hit him square in the chest and he’s forced back a step, tearing his gaze off you with a dull sort of resignation painted across his features as he turns to face the bristling Horseman.

“What. Did. You. DO!?” Death roars, each word pervaded with tremulous power and preceded by a rattling hiss, every neuron in him firing off impulses that tell him to protect the human on the anvil behind him. Yet without an immediate threat present, his rage redirects its attention to the next best thing; the one who’d let this happen to you.

Karn however, even in the face of what could well be a dangerous situation, doesn’t even flinch. He merely stands there as the Horseman bears down on him, his ears drooped and arms dangling limply at his sides.

The decidedly non combative stance doesn’t deterDeath though, who continues to stalk right up to the youngling’s boot and once again shouts, “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

If Karn hadn’t been feeling so guilty about yourinjury, he might have noted how unusual it is for the Nephilim toexpress this level of concern for another.

Dropping his gaze ashamedly to the stoneunderfoot, the maker heaves an unsteady sigh. “We were only inBaneswood,” he murmurs, more to himself than the room, as though hestill hasn’t quite come to terms with the events, “I was on thelookout for demons, not the damn trees!” Peeling his lipsback with a despairing whine, he scrapes a hand over his sparsedusting of hair.

“What?” Death hisses when he doesn’t elaborate, momentarily thrown bythe notion that now, apparently, even the trees can pose a risk toyour safety.

Karn’s eyes drift down to the ground and theHorseman can’t help but notice that they’ve clouded over, stuckbehind a memory of whatever had occurred in those dreadful woods.

Death doesn’t have to wait for long however beforethe maker reveals what he’s seeing with his mind’s eye.

“Was a branch that did it,” he mutters,“must’ve already been barely hangin’ on, what with the wind andrain. When we passed under it, it – it just…. fell..”Shuddering back into himself, he blinks and glances sorrowfully overtowards you, quietly adding, “By the time I heard it snap, Y/nwas… was….” Karn’s unsteady voice peters out and hesubconsciously rubs at the spot on his own head that mirrors theplace where your wound is.

Unfortunately for him, his explanation does littleto soothe the ire roiling in the Horseman’s chest.

“Why did you take a human out of Tri Stone inthe first place!?” Death barks, “You know it isn’t safe!”

Karn’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly, wettinghis lips. “I… I thought I could keep ‘er safe…” he utterssoftly, ducking his head when Death brusquely snaps, “Well, youthought wrong. Y/n was hurt on your watch. The lasthuman in the Universe could have died, all because of you!”

Chest heaving with barely restrained contempt, theNephilim ignores a disapproving hum that warbles out of Eideard’sthroat and lowers his voice to a much darker, somehow far morefrightening pitch, holding Karn prisoner beneath his poisonous glare.The youngling looks as though Death might as well have torn his heartasunder right then and there. “Might I make a suggestion, Pup, thatso long as you value your life, you’ll keep Y/n out of it.”

He isn’t sure what he expected the youngling tooffer in response. Perhaps a meagre protest, perhaps a flat outrefusal to stay away from you, as Death had just not so subtlysuggested. However, what he certainly doesn’t expect is for Karn tooffer up nothing more than a resigned nod of his head before turningabout and trailing slowly towards the doors at the far end of theforge, dragging his feet with each, heavy step.

Death waits until the stone entrance slides shutin the youngling’s wake, then, heaving a weary sigh, he twists aboutand focuses his attention on the anvil, or more importantly, thehuman laying quiet and still at its centre.

“That,” Eideard grumbles, furrowing his bushybrows until they almost form an uninterrupted line across hisforehead, “was an unjustly cruel thing to say…”

“I notice you didn’t interject.”

The Old One’s chest rises and falls around anindignant puff of breath. “Mark me, I would have, had Ithought you posed any real threat.”

Death can only give a humourless huff, feigning disinterest and wondering when he’d grown so soft that the maker wouldn’t see him as a constant source of danger.

Apparently, Eideard has him all worked out.

——-

The dark blanket of night gradually begins torecede with encroaching rays of sunlight that emit their faint,orange glow from behind the far-off mountain peaks, chasing the starsback into darker corners of the sky.

Almost immediately after leaving the forge, Alyahad accosted Karn and bullied a confession from his lips, after whichshe’d subjected him to an admonishing that had been strikinglysimilar to Death’s, although hers was accompanied by a swift cliparound the ear, doubtless the very least she wanted to do tohim.

After that, she’d left him to sulk, alone in thedead of night where he could torture himself by imagining all theways he should have protected you from that falling branch.

Now, he sits slumped upon the east-facing wallthat looks out over the distant peaks, his mind far from the goingson of the world around him. Rain still falls from the fat, blackclouds overhead and serves to dampen both the ground and Karn’salready dreary mood.

How had everything gone so wrong so quickly? Yes,he knows the dangers of the Forge Lands, perhaps better than most.It’s a wild and unpredictable place. But… he’s Karn.

If anyone was going to be able to protect you, itwould be him….

… Wouldn’t it?  

Raindrops cling to the youngling’s eyelashes, buthe can’t even bring himself to blink them away.

Sagging further into himself, Karn drops his chinonto his knuckles with a grunt, expelling all the air in his lungsand focusing on the burning sensation it brings rather than the stingbehind his eyelids.

He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing.

You were sad. You’d been sad ever since you firstarrived in Tri Stone. Then, one evening spent sat amongst the giantsin Muria’s garden, you had made a comment, something throwaway andforgettable to the others, but not to him. Karn had vowed never toforget a word you said from the day he met you.

You told him how much you loved exploring.

“I used to go and hike the local trails all thetime back home,” you’d murmured as a wistful smile tugged atyour lips, “Just me, my music and the open road. It was so muchfun, even if I was doing it on my own...”

Hearing this, Karn had leapt at the opportunity tocheer you up, inviting you to explore Baneswood with him in the hopesthat it would take your mind off the fate of your home world. And ithad…

…At least for a little while.

Groaning, Karn buries his face in a pair of gloved hands, pressing harshly against his eyelids until specks of colourbegin to invade the darkness.

Even with the best of intentions, he still managedto mess it all up. Death was right, after all. You very well couldhave died back there. The first, real friend Karn had ever had, andhe almost got you killed.

The youngling’s ear twitches at the sudden soundof approaching footsteps, almost imperceptible among the drumming ofrain on hard, grey stone. Too light to be a fellow maker, too heavyto be the Horseman’s….

The maker’s heart lurches and he keeps his facecovered stubbornly when a small voice calls his name.

“Karn? There you are!”

Ashamed as he is to admit it, his first impulse isto leap off the wall and put a safe amount of distance betweenhimself and you.

What are you doing out here? Not that he isn’tdelighted to see you conscious again, but surely neither Death norEideard would have allowed you to be up and about so soon after thatkind of injury.

The footsteps trail to a stop at the wall besidehim where a brief pause ensues before he hears a grunt and the soundof hands and feet scrabbling for purchase on the slippery stone.Seconds later, a tiny, shivering body presses up against his leg andstartles a sigh out of the maker. You’ve climbed up to sit next tohim, evidently.

“Karn?” Your voice is so soft and mellow, asthough speaking too loudly causes you pain. “You okay?”

He doesn’t reply, but the rain cascading down fromabove coupled with the tremors he feels through the thick leather ofhis trousers is enough to make him pull a hand away from his face andlower it slowly towards you, cupping his colossal palm around yourfragile frame as closely as he dare. Karn’s spare hand slides downhis stubble until it drops heavily into his lap whilst he stares outinto the distance with a glum expression ageing his otherwiseyouthful features.

It must have perturbed you that Karn – of allmakers – isn’t trying to fill the silence, because you promptlytake it upon yourself to answer at least one of his unspokenquestions. “Death doesn’t like that I’m out here talking to you,”you mutter gently, noticing how the maker tenses against your side,“I don’t think Eideard likes it either, but he wasn’tactively trying to stop me.”

Chewing pensively on your lip, you lean furtherinto the maker’s palm, feeling the minutest twitch of his thumb as heresists the urge to brush it over your head. After a few seconds oflistening to the rain patter off his shoulder pauldrons, you openyour mouth and carefully say, “When I woke up, Death wouldn’t tellme where you were, but… I wanted to make sure you’re all right….

Something about that tugs at the maker’sheartstrings and his eyes dart down to you before snapping away againonce they spy the faint traces of blood still clinging to your scalp.

Dimly, you watch his fingers curl towards you inchby painfully gradual inch. “Eideard said I could go and find you,provided you were still in the village, and under thecondition that I rested for a couple of hours first, which I did.”You throw a smile up at the side of his downturned head, hoping thathe’ll catch your attempt to lighten the mood. “So, you know, theykind of had to let me go. That’s not to say Death didn’t throwa temper-tantrum about it beforehand though, the drama queen…”

It is both disquieting and frustrating to see themaker’s ear flick down at the mention of the Horseman’s name, yet, toyour surprise, he finally, finally opens his mouth to speak. “Youcould have died,” he utters, sounding far older than hisyears suggest, “He’s not bein’ dramatic.”

“I’m afraid he is,” you retort, “Andfrankly, you sitting out here by yourself in the rain is prettydramatic as well, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Karn scowls at that and for the first time, aspark of ire ignites in his chest and turns its burning gaze ontoyou, frustration growing like mould around his ribcage. You seem fartoo nonchalant about the situation, in direct contrast to his own,tumultuous flurry of emotions. “I – I thought I damn well killedyou!” he chokes out, at last twisting his head around to glare atyou, rain pouring down his cheeks in much the same manner as tearsmight, “So… So I do mind you sayin’ that, thanks.”With a huff, he tears his eyes off you and fixes them straight aheadonce more.

With a demeanour that’s so typically laid-back andfriendly, his clear burst of agitation doesn’t seem to suit the youngmaker in the slightest. Even more worrying though, is that he seemsto be under the impression that somehow, in some way, your injury washis fault.  

Reeling back a little until your spine knocksagainst the heel of his palm, you spare him an incredulous huff oflaughter and blurt out, “Karn, you… you understand that it wasn’tyour fault, right? Why would you say you nearly killed me? Youdidn’t do anything!”

“Exactly!” he snaps, “I didn’t doanything to stop that branch fallin’ on your head! If I’d 'ave beenfaster, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt!”

“If you’d’ve been - Karn! That is themost ridiculous thing you’ve said yet! Of all the dangers in thisrealm, who could predict a branch would be the thing to watchout for? Nobody! Because it was just a freak accident!” As if inwarning, your head suddenly gives a painful throb and you let out agroan, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment and breathing deeplyuntil it passes. Getting worked up is helping no one, least of allyou. So, inhaling through your nose and releasing it slowly, you leanforwards to try and catch Karn’s eye again, finding that hestubbornly twists his head away, hand balling into a fist in his lap.“Karn. Will you look at me, please?”

Perhaps it’s the unexpected gentleness that’scrept into your tone, or the fact that he would do almost anythingyou asked of him, but reluctantly, the youngling moves his gaze downtowards you again, where it lingers briefly on the slight welt lefton top of your skull. With the rain weighing down your hair, he cansee far more of the wound than he’d like to, although you’re quick todivert his attention by ducking until his eyes lock with yours andthere, you hold him, a stern frown on your face when you firmlystate, “It was notyour fault.”

For a few seconds, you manage to hold hisbewildered stare before his face suddenly falls and he shakes hishead, a retort on its way out of his mouth. But before it can reachthe open air, you put a halt to it. “I mean it, Karn. Stop blamingyourself for what happened. It could have happened if I was out withDeath, or Eideard or Alya – anyone! It was just…. bad luck.”

The heat radiating off Karn’s palm keeps most ofthe rain’s chill at bay, yet for the sake of a friendship, you dareto venture outside of the meagre cover and stand up on the wall,curling your fingers around the top of his belt to hold yourselfsteady. All the while, he carefully watches your every move lest youslip and take a tumble off the side. In fact, he’s so preoccupiedwith making sure your feet are firmly on solid stone that he nearlymisses the moment when you press yourself against his side, your armsspread as wide as they’ll go to encompass even just a fraction of theyoungling’s girth.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things youcan’t help,” you mumble, your voice nearly lost against the fabricof his tunic, “And besides, I’m still here, aren’t I?”

At long last, the maker’s lips give the smallesttwitch, indicative of a smile. “Huh… Aye,” he breathes, liftinghis hand until it lands against your back, pinning you against himwith the barest amount of pressure and you have to roll your eyes,realising that he’s still filled with trepidation at the prospect ofaccidentally injuring you further. 

So lost in the ethereal peace that the rainfallbrings to Tri Stone, neither you nor the maker notice a figurestanding at the Forge’s entrance, cloaked in shadow and indifferentto the icy water making tracks down pale skin pulled taut aroundsinew and muscle and bone.

An old, long-buried part of the Horseman is urginghim to lose his temper, to march over to you and rip you away fromKarn, who likely has no idea how fervidly Death has longed tohave your arms wrapped around him in the same way you havethem slung around the maker’s bulky torso.

But… what would separating you possibly achieve?He had already tried that once, and now it appears that you and theyoungling are closer than ever…

Casting his luminous eyes to the glistening stoneunderfoot, the Nephilim shoves his childish fantasy down and grindsit viciously into dust, hoping that it’ll never raise its ugly headagain. For a bitter-sweet moment, it had been… rather nice topretend that he might be given the chance to feel the warmth of asmall, compassionate human pressed against his side.

Wrenching himself away from the scene, Deathbegrudgingly pushes open the door to the maker forge and, aftercasting a last, lingering glance over his shoulder at you, he slinksinside once more, resigned to a night spent reevaluating everything he thought he knew about humanity.

#darksiders #oneshot #karn #reader

[everamazingfe]

Magic in the Mundane

Fic Summary: Everyone had something special about them, their own personal bit of magic. Most found out about their abilities early, but Gavin had always been a bit of a late bloomer. Luckily, Michael comes by to help him put the pieces together. 

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Words in this chapter: 5521 Pairings: Gavin Free/Michael Jones Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Written for Kait (@uy8hg) for the RT Writer’s Discord Secret Sunshine event! All of her prompts were amazing and I spent far too long trying to decide between them, but I'm so glad that I decided to go with this one because it was so much fun to write. Check the source for a link to read it over on A 0 3!

Prompt: Someone discovers a new power or something that they find really cool, and they want to show it off to everyone else, with varying levels of success.

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In a world full of wonder, it wasn’t always easy to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, but those who had magic running through their veins found it quite simple. The way that magic would manifest itself in those people wasn’t always the same, though. Sometimes, the magic was in their personality. Jack had a warmth about him that could make anyone’s day better in a matter of seconds. Trevor’s charisma was off the charts, he was such a smooth talker that it was hard for anyone to dislike him unless they really tried. Other times, it was in their looks. Alfredo had a smile that could light up any room, big and beaming and bright enough to outshine the sun. Geoff had amazingly artistic tattoos that seemed to come alive if one looked at them a little too long (he would always deny this, but there was a gleam in his eye that made everyone think twice about his words). Sometimes, it was something else entirely. Their magic came in the form of special abilities, of genuine magic. Lindsay could speak to animals, using their skills for good a majority of the time, but otherwise causing mischief. Michael could create just as well as he could destroy, rendering entire buildings obsolete and creating new ones in their wake. 

There was a little bit of magic in everything, but oftentimes there were those that couldn’t see it in themselves. That was where Gavin stood. He was a smooth talker, sure, but not as smooth as Trevor. His smile wasn’t as bright as Alfredo’s. He didn’t have any magical abilities. Though he was welcomed into their group, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He didn’t have any magic. They insisted that he was part of their crew, magic or not, and that he was welcome, but sometimes he didn’t want their comforts. He just wanted to be left alone. It was hard enough to be the lone member of the mundane in their little crew, he didn’t want their pity points on top of it. Still, it didn’t stop them from trying to help.

“Maybe you’re just a late bloomer?” Fiona suggested to him late one evening when the sun had already set, laid out on her back on the roof of a building Michael had created just for her. Her magic was her ability to be good at anything she set her mind to, with an unwavering confidence that Gavin admired (and sometimes envied), even when it was misplaced. “Or you could just be totally oblivious to it. That’s always an option.”

He let out a soft sigh, shrugging a shoulder as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone else would’ve noticed it in me by now though, I think. Everyone has something, even if they're not the ones who see it.” Those who had magic were usually pretty good at picking it out in others. It had been how those without genuine magic had discovered theirs. How Jack had discovered his warmth, how Ky had discovered her strength, and so on. 

Fiona bit her lip, going quiet. He had a point there, but she didn’t want to admit it. She hated when he was right. “Maybe your magic is just being an idiot?” There was a grin on her lips, but the way that she spoke made it sound like a genuine suggestion. Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, his and Fiona’s giggles echoing out across the landscape. 

“Kind of a shitty magic, don’t you think, Fifi?” He asked finally, when his sides ached from laughing and his lungs begged for air. “I know Michael would certainly agree with you, but… I really hope that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, Gavvy. Could be. But I hope that’s not it too. I think you’re made for something a bit better than that.” Instead of pity, or jokes, she gave him a vote of confidence, and there was a little gleam that formed in Gavin’s eyes at her words. 

“You mean that?” 

“Of course I do! 

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The day after speaking to Fiona, Gavin was still thinking about her words. Despite how good it had made him feel in the moment, they’d ended up putting him in a worse mood than usual, and it was hard for him to even begin thinking about the magic he might have held. Was he really meant for something better than the idiocy his friends assigned to him? He wasn’t sure. 

He’d set out on a hike, outside of the city that they’d made for themselves and into the woods surrounding it. Some time out in nature always made him feel better, more at ease, more connected to the magic of the world around him. The small nuances on how the ecosystem worked together to thrive always intrigued him, and he was jealous of how cohesive it all could be. 

“I’m just a bit too all over the place for it, I guess,” he muttered to himself, taking a seat on a fallen tree. The moss was soft beneath him, and he ran his fingers over it as he talked to himself. Working through his thoughts aloud always made them feel less jumbled. 

A figure sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, and a hand was placed over his. “Don’t beat yourself too much, Gav,” Geoff said quietly, wrapping his arm around Gavin and pulling himself close. “We can’t all be something special, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything special at all.”

Gavin let out a long sigh, leaning into the gent when he was pulled in. He’d stopped asking how Geoff could find him so easily long ago. It was the same answer every time, ‘I just know where to look, you assholes aren’t exactly all that hard to find,’ said with that same glint in his eye. “Yeah, I know. But it’d be nice to be able to do something more than exist.” 

Geoff hummed softly, rubbing his thumb gently over Gavin’s shoulder. It always made him feel guilty when any of his friends were upset, particularly Gavin, but he’d been so hung up on the same thing for so long. “Are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for the attention to be back on you for a change?”

The lad sat up quickly, pulling away from Geoff and cutting him a confused look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m just saying! Going around talking to everyone, being all mopey about not having magic? Pretty good way to get everyone to pay attention to you for a change, right?”

Gavin scoffed at the notion, pushing Geoff away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as Gavin stood up suddenly. 

“Yes.” They’d had a few new members join their ranks, and attention was divided as they worked to expand their little city and network with others, but he hadn’t minded people paying less attention to him. If anything, he enjoyed it. It meant there was less pressure on him to perform. “Now, I’m going. And this time, you’re not allowed to search for me.” 

He didn’t even know where he was going, he just wanted to go away. He wondered if that’s what everyone thought, or if Geoff was just trying to get a rise out of him. If they all thought that way, they’d certainly never said anything of the sort, but this was how people were going to treat him, Gavin didn’t want to be around them.

“What a dick,” he muttered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he walked deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful green and gold tapestry, the hues blending together to make a simple but pleasing pattern. The threads had been hand-woven by Matt and enchanted to protect its wearer from whatever may come their way, and it did a remarkable job. 

As he ventured deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and thicker, blocking out the sun’s rays and sending a chill through the air. As the coldness began to creep in, the cloak kept him warm and made him feel safe. However, it couldn’t protect him from the turmoil inside his own mind. 

----------------------------------------------------

In the city center, Michael was having a different sort of crisis, and his angry shouting could be heard all across the land. 

“You said what to him?!’

His relationship to Gavin was indiscernible at best, no one knew whether they were deeply in love or mortal enemies, but one thing was certain: he was fiercely protective of the fact that he was the only one allowed to bully Gavin, and anyone else could only do so with his permission. Whether they were soulmates or archnemesis, Gavin was his boi first and foremost. 

“I just suggested that maybe being an idiot was his form of magic! It was funny, we were both laughing!” Fiona said, completely oblivious to the way that Michael was shooting daggers her way. Usually Michael played along with her playful teasing of Gavin, so when he didn’t continue to make jokes, she looked over. “Don’t you give me that look, you’re thinking it too.”

“I’m not, though.” Fiona scoffed, and Michael all but growled. “I’m not. You all underestimate him, and when he does find his magic, you’re going to be blown away. All of you will be.” There was a special sort of conviction to his words, one that was usually reserved for saying the most ridiculous things completely stone-faced. 

Michael stormed off after that, ignoring Fiona’s demands for him to keep hanging out with her. Movement came from the bushes on the outskirts of their community, spotted just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention snapped towards it in an instant only to reveal that the movement was caused by Geoff. His eyebrows furrowed as the other tried to pretend like he wasn’t covered in burrs and twigs, like he wasn’t trying to sneak out of the brush and back into the city unnoticed.

“Do you know where Gavin is?” he asked instantly, lifting a hand swiftly to raise a dirt wall behind Geoff, who was trying to retreat back into the bushes as quickly as he’d come out of them. 

“Why would I know where he is?” Geoff asked, his voice pitchy and lilted like he certainly did know where Gavin was, but also that he knew that revealing that information would get him in more trouble with Michael than not at the same time. 

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and propelling him like a moving walkway until he was nose to nose with Geoff. “Because you know where everyone is, you always know.” 

There wasn’t fear in Geoff’s eyes, but the man’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths. The staredown was long and tense, though he eventually relented, letting out a long sigh as the wall behind him fell. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I spoke to him in the woods maybe an hour ago, he told me that I’m not allowed to look for him, but here.” He reached into his gear, pulling out a weathered piece of parchment that was rolled and tied with a thin strip of leather. A map, one that he’d made with the same magic that lived in his tattoos, that not only held the lay of the land but also markers for everyone who lived in it. Geoff offered it to Michael, who quickly swiped it from him and unrolled it. “He never said anything about you going after him.” 

The lad hummed quietly as his eyes scanned the map for the forest green marker that indicated Gavin’s name, wordlessly stepping beyond the brush and into the woods towards it. 

“I don’t even get a thank you?!” Geoff cried out behind him, annoyed by the lack of gratitude. The ground beneath his feet rose suddenly, knocking him off his feet and onto the earth. He cried out, flailing his arms in an attempt to stop himself from falling, but it was futile. Michael was already gone.

----------------------------------------------------

The woods looked easy to traverse on the map, and they most likely would have been if Michael had stayed on the trails, but he opted to make a beeline towards Gavin. The terrain was rocky and there were steep cliffs off the beaten path, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He could mend and mold the earth to make it easier to traverse, creating stairs along the cliff faces for an easy descent. The climate was what was really getting to him. The chill in the air was unbearable for him, only getting worse as the sun began to dip down, and he had a bear’s pelt to keep him warm. Gavin’s frame was thinner and frailer than his own, he most likely wasn’t faring any better.

He lit a torch as night fell, raising up dirt and stone walls around himself to block out the cold and keep himself safe from the nocturnal monsters around him. After jamming the torch into the wall, he unfurled his map and saw that Gavin’s marker had stopped moving and was instead spinning around in frantic circles. Evidently, he was trying to make camp for the night as well. With a swift movement of his hand, miles away on the other side of the woods, similar walls raised up around Gavin, and the marker finally stopped moving. Satisfied that his boi was safe, he settled down, wrapping his pelt around himself tightly for warmth as he laid down to sleep. 

----------------------------------------------------

Gavin was startled as the dirt walls rose up around him, terrified that something was trying to trap him within them, though he quickly became at ease when he realized what it meant. Geoff had listened and wasn’t going to be searching for him, but Michael was certainly looking out for him instead. The fear that came from being alone out there dissipated as he ran his fingers down the dirt, pulling out several clumps of roots and knocking bits of earth loose. Dirt walls were less than fancy, but they were a great comfort regardless.

He slept easily through the night with a newfound sense of safety, his cloak pulled tightly around himself for warmth. It worked wonders against the cold. As the sun began to rise, it didn’t emerge from the clouds, the sky grey and dreary as rain began to fall. Gavin could hear the rain hitting the tops of the trees, but even as he began to move none of the drops ever hit him. Above him, the branches of the trees bent and molded, shielding him from the downpours as he walked. No doubt this is Michael’s doing, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. No matter how much they seemed to argue, the other lad still managed to be protective of him. It was something he was always grateful for, even when the others seemed to give him shit for it. 

His pace that day was slower, more leisurely now that he had calmed down some, but he still had no intentions of going back to the city. If Michael was the only one who cared enough to come for him, they could start their own city far, far away. Together. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, pushing his hood down and taking a look around. Though the trees were tall above him for now, he knew that if he just kept going they’d give way to a beautiful, grassy plain. He couldn’t wait to walk on grass again, the dirt and stones beneath him were starting to make his feet ache. 

Several yards from where he’d first had that thought, he had to stop, kneeling down to untie his boots so he could re-lace them tightly. Moving slowly, he bent down, not wanting to end up with another cut on his knee from landing too hard on a rock like he’d already done far too many times this trek. But the terrain beneath his knee was soft, and as he looked down at his boot, he saw that there was soft, lush grass beneath him. Not dirt. 

“What on earth?” He asked himself, brushing his fingers through it. There was some grass on the forest floor around him, but it was rough and patchy, nothing like this. “Michael’s really outdone himself this time.” With that thought, he smiled to himself before continuing to lace up his boots with deft fingers. Before he stood, he spotted a small wildflower that had bloomed among the blades , and he gently picked it and placed it behind his ear. “What a dope.”

What Gavin didn’t know was that Michael didn’t have the ability to create foliage or flowers underfoot. No one in their community did. And with each step that Gavin took, more of it sprouted up from the dirt beneath him. 

----------------------------------------------------

Night fell again soon enough, and Gavin wasn’t sure where he was. He could’ve sworn that the forest gave way into plains at this point, but instead he found himself in the middle of the desert. Stupidly, he’d continued on, just in case the plains were just beyond it, though now he was too tired to turn back. 

“Maybe Fiona was right,” he muttered as he sat down in the sand, digging his toes into it and wiggling them for some amusement as he propped his cloak up over himself like an umbrella. It was nighttime now, but it would be morning again soon enough. He didn’t want to end up burnt to a crisp before he even woke up. No walls came up around Gavin this time either, so it was up to him to protect himself. 

Gavin leaned forward against his knees, peering up at the night sky for a few long moments. Jeremy had spent many long nights back in the city teaching him the constellations and the stars within them, though he could never tell which ones were real and which ones the lad had made up for his own amusement. Orion was certainly real, but Beauregard’s Chariot was almost certainly not. Almost. He picked that one out, finding comfort in its familiarity, before he decided it was time to get some rest. Toes still in the sand, he laid back, arms crossed beneath his head as he closed his eyes. He had been so focused on the sky that he was unaware of what was happening in the sand beneath him. 

----------------------------------------------------

With Gavin’s slowed pace, Michael was able to start gaining on him. He raced through the trees with even greater speed now that he was beyond the craggy cliffs and difficult landscape, the earth moving beneath him to propel him along. By nighttime, he’d closed in on Gavin’s position, and he was stunned by what he saw.

Smack dab in the middle of the desert, where not even cacti could manage to survive due to the horrible heat and scorching sunbeams, Gavin found himself within an oasis. That same lush grass and wildflowers were no longer just underfoot, but in a wide circle around the lad, almost tall enough to completely hide him from Michael’s view. Small trees were even beginning to grow, supporting Gavin’s cloak above him in place of the flimsy sticks he’d set up before. 

“Gavin?” Michael called softly, stepping forward with caution in case it was a facade, a trap of some sort. The desert was known for causing hallucinations, for preying on the hope of the desperate. That was the kind of magic it held, and it was very skillful at using it. But as he knelt down at the edge of the circle and reached forward to feel the greenery, sure enough, it was real. “What the hell? Gavin! Wake the fuck up!”

The lad sat bolt upright with a start, catching himself in his cloak and fighting it off with all the fierceness of a kitten. Sleep was still gripping him, catching him somewhere between being wide awake and deep asleep, but he was quickly coming to. “Who’s there?!” He shouted, finally tossing his cape away from himself and looking around in confusion. “Michael?” That wasn’t the last thing he expected to see out there, but it wasn’t the first either. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It had taken everything in Michael not to laugh at the display in front of him, but he quickly wiped the smirk off his face to look offended when Gavin addressed him so incredulously. “Jeez, don’t sound so happy to see me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes before shuffling forward on his knees. “Mind telling me what all this is?” He arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the small haven among the sand. 

However, Gavin had no more answers than Michael did. “I’m not… I’m not sure what it is,” he responded earnestly, glancing between it and the other lad before reaching for his cloak. “I thought you were doing it. You’re not?” Michael shook his head fervently, and Gavin only frowned as he pulled the garment on. “Then who is?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, humming a soft ‘I don’t know’ before standing, stalking around the mysterious growth. This wasn’t anything that anyone he knew could do, and when he tried to make it happen himself, all he could do was raise the earth itself. He couldn’t make anything grow from it. Which left only one option…

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and Gavin looked at him like he’d asked him to do something insane. “Stand up! Get the hell over here!” When there was still no movement from him, Michael reached forward, hauling Gavin to his feet and yanking him out of the circle. Sure enough, grass sprouted up beneath the lad’s feet, extending the circle and connecting it to wherever he stepped. “Holy shit… Gavin! Look!”

Gavin had thought that Michael was angry at him, scolding him, but the tone of his voice was nothing but excited. Thrilled, even. He followed Michael’s gaze down to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together like the other had. “This happened to me back in the forest too! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“You’ve found your magic, that’s what’s going on!” Michael was practically screaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at Gavin with a big beaming grin. “You can make stuff grow! That’s incredible!” 

That made things click for Gavin, finally, and his grin ended up matching Michael’s. “I can make stuff grow!” Geoff was going to be blown away, everyone was. He wondered if Michael would be okay with them going back to the city immediately, they’d be able to get there by morning thanks to his abilities. “Fiona was right!”

The other bristled immediately, his grin turning to a frown in a fraction of a second. “Fiona was… Right?” She’d told Gavin that his magic was being stupid, that his special ability was being an idiot. This certainly wasn’t that, not by a long shot. “Gavin, this isn’t stupid. This is awesome! Fiona wasn’t right.”

“What? What are you on about? No, she… She said I was made for something better than what everyone else thought. And she was right! Oh, and she’s had such shit luck getting flowers to grow at her place too, no wonder!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug that was fueled by nothing but pure glee, and he could only hug him back just as tight. “We have to get back there, immediately. Everyone is going to be so jealous, Michael-boi.”

----------------------------------------------------

Some proper rest would’ve been a great benefit to them both, but Gavin had insisted that they return to the city as quickly as possible. The moving ground beneath their feet made it a relatively quick task, and Michael had managed to find a well-worn trail that made it even easier. They were back in the city by sunrise, and while the excitement had died down in Michael to give way to sleepiness, Gavin was no less giddy. Probably because he’d climbed on Michael’s back at one point and managed a small nap. Lucky bastard, Michael had thought to himself when he’d heard the soft snoring in his ear, but he hadn’t woken him up. 

“Michael. Stop here, Michael,” Gavin urged, nearly losing his balance as the dirt beneath him ground to a halt suddenly. They were just outside the city, inside the same bushes that Geoff had attempted to sneak out of a few days prior, hidden from view as residents began to leave their houses to begin their tasks for the day. “I’m gonna get on your back-“

“You’re not taking another fucking nap,” Michael interjected, and the other huffed and waved him off. 

“No! I’m gonna get on your back so I can do a grand reveal, you dolt. The flowers appear when I step, and if I step too soon the surprise will be ruined!”

“Hey, assholes!” Jeremy’s voice boomed across the city center, no doubt hearing the commotion, and Gavin quickly began to scramble onto Michael’s back. 

“Ow! Watch it, you’re gonna knock off my glasses! Stop!” Michael huffed, swatting at Gavin’s hands as they reached for purchase anywhere they could. He stepped out of the bushes once he was settled, looking annoyed while the lad on his back was nothing but gleeful. “Hey, Lil J! I rescued our favorite dumbass. You’re welcome.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as Gavin let out a little ‘hello!’ and waved, though he was curious about why the other was on Michael’s back. It wasn’t unlike Gavin to demand piggy-back rides. Though normally once Jeremy was in view, he made it his mission to climb onto his shoulders instead. “Gav, are you hurt? What’s going on?” He stepped up with caution, ready to call for help if needed. Injuries weren’t uncommon, but if Gavin needed to be carried, it must’ve been serious. 

“No, the asshole’s not hurt. Not yet, at least. He’s just got a surprise for you,” Michael assured, rolling his eyes. “For everyone, actually. Do me a favor and ring the bell? They’re gonna want to be here for this.”

An eyebrow shot up, but Jeremy was quick to comply with the request. He crossed the city center, grabbing the rope and pulling it once, twice, three times to signal that it was a meeting of utmost importance, but not one that brought bad news. When the bell rang three times, it meant that there were good things to come.

Soon, all of the residents of the city were there, eagerly awaiting to learn the reason for this meeting. Very rarely did the bell ring thrice, and there were hushed whispers and guesses of what was to come. They all fell silent when Michael, with Gavin still on his back, stepped forward.

“I’ve found my magic,” Gavin announced, savoring the look on everyone’s faces as they processed that announcement. Particularly Geoff’s, whose face was twisted into one of apologetic guilt. A sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside of him at that. And of course Fiona was delighted, jumping up and down and pumping her fists, shouting ‘I knew it!’ before she even knew what Gavin’s magic was. It didn’t matter to her. Alfredo and Trevor were also excited, but only because their beloved Dusk Boy had finally joined their ranks, though Jack and Matt simply looked skeptical. He couldn’t blame them, really. Why now? Why did it take so long for him to find it? Those were the questions behind their eyes, and Gavin wished that he had answers for them.

When he felt like he’d let the suspense hang in there air for long enough, he stepped down. For a moment, nothing happened. Matt was about to open his mouth to complain about being dragged out of bed for a grand display of nothing. And then, all at once, a beautiful display of lush grass and flowers appeared at his feet. The more he focused on it, the bigger it grew and the more beautiful it became. No longer was it simply wildflowers, either. In the hours of their journey, he realized he could control the types of flowers that grew. He opted for sunflowers this time. Everyone knew that they were his favorite. It was proof that the magic was his, and not anyone else’s pretending to be his. 

The reactions were mixed, and Gavin deflated a little as several people seemed unimpressed and walked off to return to their duties. It wasn’t the most spectacular power in the world, he knew that, but it was his and he liked it. That was what mattered to him. There wasn’t much time for him to mope though, as Fiona quickly rushed him, wrapping him in a hug and lifting him off his feet. 

“Gavin!” she shouted, stepping back to inspect the flowers closer. She plucked a few blades of grass, feeling them between her fingers. After a few seconds, she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You can help me grow flowers at my place!”

Gavin laughed, nodding quickly and beaming at her. He could always trust her to cheer him up. “I can, yeah. No wonder you’ve not been able to grow anything.”

“Yeah, cause you stole my green thumb! That’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.”

They bickered back and forth, Michael watching with a tired but fond smile, until Fiona decided that she’d had enough and thumped Gavin on the side of the head before racing off. The lad was too exhausted to follow, so he just stepped over to Michael, the foliage underfoot following him as he went. Everyone else came up to congratulate him in time, Geoff doing that and apologizing for the harshness of his words in one awkward convoluted mess that Michael wasn’t even sure was an apology, but Gavin understood what the gent was trying to say. He’d learned to decode Geoff Speak over the years. 

Still, the person whose opinion Gavin valued the most was Michael’s, and once the excitement had died down and they’d retreated to their homes to rest, Michael stopped by to give it. 

“I’m real proud of you, Gav,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bed next to the lad without a second thought. 

“Proud of me?” he asked, snatching his blankets back from the lad as he tried to steal them. Michael always did this to him. 

“Yeah. Proud of you. For putting up with the bullshit and finding your magic. Even if it was a total accident.” Michael snorted out a soft laugh and smiled, crossing his arms beneath his head and looking over at the other. “You just lucked into it, just like you lucked into everything else.” 

“Including you?” Gavin arched an eyebrow as he met the other’s gaze, desperately wanting to wipe that smug look off his face.”

“Especially me, are you kidding?” That comment earned him a gentle smack to the chest, a kiss to the cheek, and a mutter of ‘I’m going to make a tree grow through your damn house.’

To everyone else, their relationship was indiscernible at best. But Michael and Gavin knew exactly what they were to each other, they didn’t need anyone else in their business about it. They were partners. Not just in life and love, but in their magic as well. As he learned how to hone and control his abilities, Gavin would decorate the city and beautify the buildings that Michael had created. And once he had mastered his skills, Michael began to create buildings specifically for Gavin to embellish. Dirt roofs became his signature style, the gravity-defying feature held together by the roots of the flowers that Gavin planted into them. The city had never looked better, and even those who were initially unimpressed by Gavin’s abilities had to admit that it was perfectly suited to him. He took great pride in rubbing it in their faces. 

Gavin was happy to not be a member of the mundane anymore. His spirits were higher, and he felt more useful to the city. His abilities, with more practice, extended beyond flowers and grass and into fruit and vegetable plants. The magic that Gavin held could sustain them all. 

But Gavin had always held magic within him, in Michael’s eyes. He had never been mundane. That gleam in his eye when he got another crazy idea to cause chaos was nothing if not supernatural, and his ability to find the fun in even the most boring of situations had proven to be valuable time and time again. It just hadn’t been the form of magic that Gavin had always desired, so he never took note of it despite it always being there. Michael was just glad he could finally see it in himself too. 

#ragehappy #rpf #mavin #oneshot #magic au #secret sunshine #secret sunshine event #fic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 33)

The large round eyes, belonging to the auburn fox, flutter from left and right, back to left, before it takes a deep breath and leaves its safe pot to seek food for the day. The night’s hefty downpour prevented it from going out, and now it’s hungry. The new world order has made it a lot easier to find food, which also means that the feeling of hunger is seldom reminded. But during the night, its stomach has been rumbling for something tasty, a bird or anything really. On soft paws, the fox hurries across the grass before stopping abruptly, to check that the coast is clear. But its home environment, a forest somewhere in Virginia, is deserted and free from danger. It had been a long time since this fox had experienced a hunting season, or heard the sound of quad bikes smelling of exhaust fumes pulling through its natural habitat. The fox hurries on, but just a few meters on it stops abruptly again, pricks up its ears when a rustle is heard. Silently, the fox hurries into a bush, at the same time as the grass is split some distance away by a pair of worn Keen hiking boots. The sun plays through the rustling foliage; a soft clatter, a result of the soft breeze that pulls through the forest.

After rain comes sunshine, it’s said. But the crooked male who stumbles between the tree trunks with trailing steps, has no idea of ​​the beauty of mother nature that surrounds him. Nor any idea that he was once a thinking, living being. Many months have passed and time has not been gentle on him. A piece, large as a clenched fist, of his cheek is ripped out, but it doesn’t worry him. He totally lacks the ability to feel, to reason about whether he needs to see a doctor or put a bandaid on it. That time is over. The only instinct that remains and clings to the man’s poisoned, dead consciousness is hunger. An incurable, constant hunger for meat. That’s what drives the man forward through the forest, without, unlike the fox, being on his guard. It’s also this inattention that is reminded when a 5.45 mm bullet penetrates his skull, between the ear and the eye. The loud sound makes the fox give up his attempted excursion and rush back to his burrow.

Daryl tears his eyes from the walker who collapses on the ground like a shattered house of cards, and glances to his left. 

“Home run.” He says as Mila lowers the rifle. “Ya’ wanna let me have a fair chance?” “It was you who said we should compete.” Mila threads the rifle’s shoulder strap over her arm and gives him a cheeky smile. “Gotta level up your game, Dixon. It’s not a contest if I let you win.”

“Hmpf...”

Mila starts walking and Daryl follows. He should have suspected that she was competitive. So far, she leads with eight hits against his three. 

They’re heading west. A few days earlier, Glenn, Rick and Sasha returned to the Safe-Zone after a run, announcing that they had passed a mall they hadn’t seen before. As it got dark, all three agreed that it would be foolhardy to go in and investigate. Instead, Daryl suggested that he take on the task; leave early and check the place out.

“Take someone with you.” was the only thing Rick said before heading off to bed. 

In front of Daryl, Mila’s trotting on towards their goal as fast as her feet manage. The untied boot laces bounces around her feet, whips up fallen leaves. They have accomplished about 2 miles which is halfway according to Rick’s description, made their way through woods and abandoned streets. Not taking the car was a conscious choice; Daryl wanted to do the walk. In nature he can breathe, he needs it and all its simplicity as if it were oxygen. He can not imagine spending the day with anyone else then her, on foot, on a mission to explore. Neither more nor less, yet everything.

“How far did they say it was?” Mila turns and looks at him; the long hair forms a fan around her face of the rapid movement. 

“‘Bout halfway.” He replies.

“And we’re supposed to do what again?”

“Scout the place for supplies, then go back another day if it’s any good.” Daryl offers Mila his hand as she makes her way over a big branch, lying in their path. “Ya’ had anything in mind?”

“Carol asked for some new fancy kitchen knives.”

“Course she did.” Daryl grimaces, amused by Carol’s request, and climbs the branch. 

“You go way back, you two, huh?” Mila squints at him.  

Daryl squints back at her; Mila’s sapphire blue eyes are curious and gleams in the dancing sunlight that penetrates the dense foliage above. He shrugs a little. 

“No more than anyone else.”

Mila lifts her eyebrows at him, she wants to hear more. Daryl sighs.

“We just-” He pauses, doesn’t really know what to say. “Get each other. Somehow.” How should he describe their friendship? Carol is one of his closest, most dearest friends. She’s warm, kind, fierce and she has a haunting ability to read his mind; knows what he thinks without him uttering a single word. Might be a mother’s instinct, or it might be something else, but Daryl values her ability immensely, not being very good with words himself. In the beginning, way back, he felt irritated, exposed and vulnerable in Carol’s presence. Could just as well be because he was a full blown ass to everything and everyone, but Carol made him feel human, made him feel like ‘someone’. She helped him find purpose and meaning in the group, never doubted him. Gosh, if it wasn’t for Carol, he thinks and looks at Mila, he would never be where he is; here, with Mila, being able to talk with her, not sounding like a buffoon or a total piece of shit. Crap, without Carol’s tremendous influence, Mila would probably have shunned him like the plague. He’d never in his life thought he’d soften up like this, but right now- He owes Carol everything for believing in him, not giving up. What if he’s been a good influence on her as well?

Out of nowhere, Mila says:

“You’ve gone through a lot together. Of course that must be more than friendship, that’s-” She searches for words. “-family. Strong bonds. Growing together, always having each others back. That’s valuable.”

“She’s great.” Daryl says and looks at Mila; wow, she really put words on his feelings. 

“Invaluable, I would say.” Mila smiles. “Who could have dreamed of having a babysitter in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? One who’s also chef, baker, friend- a hell of a soldier.” She chuckles and grins at him. “And here I am, with you. Hell, I might switch to Carol, now that I think of it. She’s awesome.”

Daryl takes up a handful of leaves and throws at her. Mila laughs and leans in, pulls him into a kiss, lips with a lingering taste of this morning’s breakfast; coffee black as hell and the blantest looking bowl of oatmeal Daryl’s ever seen. Her lips sweep over his and Daryl, still holding onto the crossbow, puts his arm around her neck and replies the kiss, feeling her soft hair brush against his arm. 

”I guess I get to work a little extra then.” He says with a smirk. “I won’t start baking though.”

“You sure?” She raises her eyebrows. “I'm pretty convincing.” 

For you and the kid I’d probably do whatever the hell you wanted, if you asked me to, Daryl thinks. Damn, he would go through fire and water for ‘em.

“Let’s get this over with.” He puts a loop of her hair behind her ear. ”come on, Jersey.”

With his arms still resting around her neck, they continue to walk. Above them the treetops rattle pleasantly in the wind. The birds chirp and some distance away two squirrels perform their dance for each other around a thick tree trunk, wiggling their tails and noses simultaneously. But something’s disturbing the overall peaceful atmosphere. Maybe it’s intuition, but something's not quite right. Something in the distance makes Daryl stop abruptly. All of his muscles tenses and Daryl pricks up his ears, just like the fox he saw earlier. Male voices, more than two. Like a laser pointer, his gaze moves from left to right, frantically scouting for the slightest movement, the slightest deviation from the green vegetation around them. Suddenly he sees it. Ten meters in front of where they have haltered, the greenery, scattered with a few trees and bushes, opens into a paved road. On the other side of the road lies two buildings. It’s the dirty, black pickup parked in front of one of the buildings that has caught his attention. That and the armed men surrounding it. 

“Down!”

“What?”

Before Mila has the chance to react, Daryl grabs her by the jacket and forces her to crouch. He raises a dirty index finger in front of his lips, as a sign that she should be dead quiet. Mila looks around, understands that he has seen something she has not seen yet. The sound of voices at a distance makes her look beyond the trees and bushes and she catches sight of the pickup. Carefully they make their way over to a pair of bushes that separates wilderness from domesticated. He pulls her down in the tall grass behind the foliage, out of sight, but the men in the parking lot don’t take notice of what’s happening in the vegetation at the other side of the road. Their attention lies fully on the boxes of ammunition they carry out of the run down building. They stack them on the covered truck bed, then return inside to grab some more, like a running band. Mila scouts through the foliage.

“Anyone you’ve seen before?” She asks in a low voice.

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head while he follows a man with shoulder-length blond hair with his eyes. The blonde man disappears into the building and another comes out with yet another box. “Nah, they’re new.”

While five of the men fill the truck bed with boxes and cartons, the sixth man is standing on guard, armed with an automatic rifle, eyes searching the surrounding for any dangers, or other people. 

“Maybe we should lie low for awhile.” Mila states. 

Yeah, certainly feels foolish to make themselves known. Instead they lay low behind the bushes, watching the unknown group from a distance. Daryl looks at Mila’s profile; her forehead is furrowed and she seems to think, while biting on her lower lip. 

“Whatcha thinkin’?”

“There’s-“ She counts. ”-six of them. There’s two of us. And I’m not good at math, but-” Once again Mila peers through the foliage. “And one doesn’t need that much ammunition unless there’s a threat.” She mumbles. “Or if you yourself is the threat.”

Daryl doesn’t answer. He thought exactly the same. There’s two possible scenarios for the reason behind this hoarding and he doesn’t like any of ‘em. His thoughts wander back in time, to the prison and the Governor, beheading Herschel and splitting the group, which caused him to flee headlong with Beth. An unpleasant sensation begins to take shape inside his stomach, a bundle of painful memories cutting his insides like barbed wire. There can’t be another Governor situation, not another battle. No more losses.  

“Wonder where they’re staying.” Mila continues. “You think they have their own Safe-Zone somewhere?”

“More like Alamo.” Daryl replies, considering the heavy armor. “Ain’t lookin’ too good.”

“As long as we stay far away, we should be fine.” 

Mila pats him on the knee and turns her eyes away from the gun shop. She makes herself comfortable, takes off her backpack, opens it and takes out two plastic bottles of water, followed by a half filled bottle of vodka. Daryl grins.

“Ya’ got a problem, Jersey.” He says and receives a bottle of water. 

“I know.” She says. “If you happen to stumble across an AA meeting I promise you I’d attend, without hesitating.”  

“Been like this for long?” He drinks and looks at Mila over the clear plastic bottle. “The drinkin’ I mean.”

“My family has a long tradition of desertion, foolish luck and malicious alcoholism. I’m not exactly surprised.” Mila fiddles with the cap of the vodka bottle. “Luckily I have a quite high tolerance. Besides, I can’t really stop either. It’s considered a disease I’ve heard.” She grins amused. “Back in Russia they’d die of laughter if they heard.” She pauses and squints at Daryl in the sun. “You’d like me to stop, right?”

“You do you.” Daryl responds. Ain’t his business to tell her what to do. Nor his right to.

“That’s new.” Mila says. 

“Doesn’t seem to be that much of a problem, that’s all.” 

“Good for me then. I didn’t plan to stop, not yet at least.”

“Take ya’ time.” Daryl says. “As long as ya’ safe. And the kid. Ya’ doin’ fine.”

“Might be hard to put your head around, but I was actually quite deep in the shit a couple of months ago. Though-” Mila pauses. “I’d lie if I said I didn’t feel guilty. This-” She nods at the bottle. “No kid should grow up around it. I mean, I did and that didn’t go well. I’d throw myself over a cliff if anything happened to Juri, but-” She sighs. “I have flaws, demons. But I’ve sworn to myself, and Juri, that he’s safe, no matter how wasted or fucked up I am.”

Daryl reaches out his arm, pulls her towards him. 

“He wouldn’t be more safe with anyone else.” Daryl says and squeezes her a little. “Ya’ doin’ good, Jersey. Drunk or not.”

A bang, the sound of the door to the pickup’s flatbed closing, makes them both jump in the grass. They turn their heads and look through the foliage, seeing the men step into the car and onto the loaded flatbed.

“Let’s go.” They hear one of them holler.

The engine starts and they drive out of the deserted parking lot in front of the gun shop, turn left and disappear.

“Coast is clear.” Mila declares. “Let’s get going.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #jersey on my mind #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #twd #daryl fanfiction #walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanficition #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd fanfic

[oldfarmwitch]

My state moved up my eligibility group and I was able to schedule my first shot for a week from tomorrow. Mental health chat under the cut.

I thought scheduling my vaccine would bring some relief and possibly some improvement in the mental health crisis I’ve been dealing with, but it’s kind of been the opposite, so that’s...interesting. It finally stopped raining long enough for the trails in the woods to dry out and we went to a spot we like, but the parking lot was mostly full and I had a full blown panic attack. Blurred vision, hyperventilating, racing heart, sobbing, shaking, the works. From seeing a *mostly* full parking lot for a hiking trail. (We ended up going to a trail that’s always quiet and it was...fine.)

Oh, also, my therapist thinks I have OCD in addition Bipolar II, so that’s more fun stuff to talk about when I’m finally able to see the psychiatrist (9 days. I just have to make it 9 more days.). 

I was supposed to go back to work on March 1, but my general practitioner didn’t want to clear me to go back until I could see the psychiatrist, so it got pushed to April 1. I do not feel able to go back at all. Like, at allllll. Right now I’ll have 1-2 days in a row where I feel like a semi-functional human and can do more than like two or three things, then it takes me 3-5 days of doing almost nothing to recover. Then the cycle repeats. I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to work, even if it were partial hours. (And yes, I do recognize the immense fucking privilege in having a job with short-term disability benefits that even allow me to take paid leave for mental health issues. It’s not fair that benefits like that aren’t available across the board.)

I also have a history of reacting pretty poorly to psych meds (hello, all the side effects), so there’s a very high chance that whatever med(s) the psychiatrist puts me on first will not work out. The idea of adjusting to meds while trying to return to work is terrifying to me.

At this point, I genuinely don’t know if I can work, at least not full time. But I’m the primary earner in my home and can’t just not work. Capitalism sucks. 

Anyway, this is a long post to say I’m still alive, but I’m struggling. 

#personal #cw: panic attack #cw: ocd #cw: bipolar

[kaymaystar]

Broken Dream - Zelink One-shot

Rating - Teen+ for suggestive themes

Pairing - Link/Zelda

Summary: Link is dead, and Zelda is alone. A short one-shot story exploring Zelda’s grief when the one she loves is taken from her.

I heard this song and my mind immediately went to this super sad scenario. If I had to categorize this, I guess I would put it under OoT or TP Zelink - but I didn’t have any specific versions of them in mind so feel free to insert whichever ones you prefer.

Read below the cut or on AO3

The sunlit grass sways and glimmers in the dimming evening light, grazing and tickling at the bare skin of her neck as she blinks up at the orange and pink streaked sky.

Gentle fingers comb through her hair, pressing enticingly against her scalp as they retreat and return over and over. She hums happily, tilting her head towards the feeling and shutting her eyes.

A low chuckle drifts from above her, light and airy and full of love. She opens her eyes, meeting blue richer than any ocean.

“Are you laughing at me, Sir?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Majesty.”

“Good.” She smirks, snuggling deeper into the warmth of his lap as her eyes slip closed. “I would have to exile you for that.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No.” She agrees, hearing the smile in his voice. “I quiet enjoy your company.”

He hums deep in his chest, fingertips pressing against her temple.

“And I, yours. But you will eventually have to wake, love.”

She bats an eye open at him, huffing.

“Oh, wake from what? I’m perfectly content to stay here forever you know.”

“Zelda...” He murmurs, and she lifts herself from his lap and onto her knees to look him in the face. His eyes are glazed and sad, his lips downturned.

His lips, soft and warm and plaint and so easy to be kissed. So she does.

They are no less perfect than the first time he had pressed them to her own. She sighs, a delicate hand tracing the hard line of his jaw. When she pulls away, the harsh line of his frown has disappeared - but there is a crease in his brow.

The evening sun bathes him in golden light, a heavenly glow radiating from around his body. Hylia’s chosen.

She smoothes the line with her finger, following the path down the bridge of his nose and across his kiss stained lips. When she is done, the crease has disappeared - but his eyes are still heavy with sadness.

“You have to wake up.” He whispers, a calloused hand lifting to grasp her own where it curls around his cheek.

Her smile is radiant and she shakes her head.“Link, I-“

His fingers are ice cold where they touch her lips, and she nearly startles.

“Don’t do this to yourself Zelda...please. It’s time to wake up.”

She leans away from his touch and looks around her. Hears the birds chirping and feels the soft breeze of the autumn wind. She looks to the tree they’re under, across the creek only a mile from her summer cottage, tucked away in privacy. It was here that they had spent most of their time as newlyweds, simply reveling in the luxury of being alone. They would pack a small lunch from the house, take the short hike into the woods and set up a picnic underneath her favorite tree. She can recall the taste of sweet snow berries and the slight tang of his skin as they fed each other beneath the sinking sun.

Their simple acts of adoration would divulge into the holy worship of one another’s bodies, the barely there brush of fingertips and the gentle breathes of pleasure filling the air.

They would bathe in the creek afterwards, blessing themselves in Hylia’s waters, and walk back to the house hand in hand to repeat the same routine the next morn.

She smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There is no mirth in his tone when he answers her, eyes hard.

“Yes. You do.”

It shakes her from her reverie, hearing such darkness in his tone. He had never spoken to her like that in this place, under this sacred tree.

She reaches for his hands, still cold to the touch.

“Link, you’re scaring me.”

He searches her face, pity gleaming in his eyes.

“I’m gone, Zel.”

His words are soft, but she can feel the agonizing crush in her chest as if he had screamed them in her face. She scrunches her nose, defiant till her last breath.

“You’re not. You’re sitting here in front of me.”

His gaze melts even further, and he grips at her wrists.

“I’m not real, love. You know that. You have to wake up now.”

“Stop saying that!” She bellows, shoulders trembling. He is unfazed, simply smiling at her sadly and shaking his head. She feels panic grip her around the throat, and when she blinks the world tilts and splits.

Understanding tightens it’s noose around her, and she can feel her consciousness bleeding into her mind as she struggles against it.

She throws herself towards him, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist as tightly as she can.

“No. Please, please don’t go. I can’t do this. Not without you.”

He kisses the top of her head, sweet and chaste.

“You can. And you will.”

Her tears are hot and treacherous where they flow down her cheeks, burning a trail down her throat and into the dip of her chest. He lifts her head with a hand under her chin, brushing tears from her face with the pad of his thumb.

“I miss you...” she sobs, and he nods in understanding. He presses his lips to her forehead, and when she opens her eyes he is gone.

The grass beneath her knees scratches at her skin, and she takes in a shuddering breath.

“Link...? Link!”

“LINK!” She screams into the empty dark of her bedchamber. There is sweat staining the silk of her sheets and seeping through the fabric of her nightgown.

She reaches a panicked hand towards the side of the bed, her palm smacking against cold fabric and a pristine pillowcase. Unused.

She chokes on a sob, clutching her hand over her mouth until her fingernails dig crescent marks against her cheeks. When she is finally able to breathe again, she wails. The unused pillow is thrown to the floor, her sheets are ripped from her bed, her hair torn from its braid.

She rampages in her agony, her chambers destructed. She would be concerned at the lack of response shown by her guards, but she knows the nightly terrors have trained them to be less hasty in their involvement and more capable of distinguishing when she is truly in trouble.

There is nothing they can do for her now. No evil to slay our enemy to fight, nor an intruder to disarm. They know better than to disturb her when she is lost in her grief.

She crawls back into her bed in the early hours of the dawn, simply laying with her eyes closed as her heart threatens to beat out of her chest. It is only a few short hours later when her maid comes knocking.

She bids her good morning, and brings her a breakfast that she promptly retches up.

Two more maids come in to help her dress as her housekeeper cleans up the evidence of the nights destruction.

Her hair is brushed and twisted and pinned in place, pink rogue tapped onto her cheeks and oils rubbed underneath her eyes to disguise the sleepless nights.

She stares at her face in the mirror of her vanity as her maids bustle around her.

She blinks.

“Must you go?”  She pouts, tracing lazy circles across the smooth metal of his badges. She always liked the way he looked in his uniform, but today it’s image stings bitter.

He chuckles, stilling her fingers and placing a kiss along her knuckles.

“I must. I may be King now but I’m also still your top General.” He winks at her, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Yes, but can’t you send someone else in your stead? No King of Hyrule has ever laid foot on the battlefield.”

“Then I will be the first.” He grins, although a bit sadly, and rubs his hands across her arms. “They are my soldiers, Zelda. I can’t let them march into battle alone, not when I was once the same as them.”

She nods, because she knows he is right of course. Her heart thumps painfully regardless. She kisses him hard, teeth clacking together at the force.

He is breathless when she releases him, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Promise you will come back to me.”

“I promise.”

There is suddenly not enough air in the room, and she coughs and splutters against the memory beating through her skull. He had promised. He had promised and still- .

She is shepherded out of her room and down the long corridor that leads to the throne room, maids trailing behind her as they lift the long skirt of her pitch black dress. Someone lends her their hand as she walks up the few steps up to her chair, bracing her forearms against the cool metal. She spends the next hour and a half receiving gifts and listening to the woes of mourning from her subjects. Each one turns her stomach more and more. By noon the doors have been locked, and she is once again lead to her next engagement. And the next, and the next, until the day is almost over - and she must do what she has loathed most.

When her maids help her to the front foyer, Impa is there waiting for her.

“Majesty.” She murmurs, head tilted in a bow.

“Thank you for coming, Impa.”

“Of course. How are you faring, if I may ask?”

She hesitates to answer, and Impa clucks her tongue. She places a warm hand on her back, leading her forward.

“We will just try to get through this day, ma’am. And if you need me, I will be here.”

The carriage ride to the temple is short, too short. Her pulse races and she grips tightly at Impa’s wrist with gloved hands as the driver dismounts from his seat and opens the door to escort them inside. She freezes, her limbs unable to unlock, and squeezes Impa’s arm so hard she flinches.

With soothing words and guiding hands Impa is able to coax her from the carriage, up the steps of the temple and onto the alter. Flowers litter every square inch of her vision, vibrant colors of every kind, and the smell almost overwhelms her.

“One last thing your Majesty...” Impa coos, her voice hushed. She holds a bundle of black mesh in her hands, gently lifting it up and over Zelda’s head when she bends forward. She drapes it evenly over her hair and face, tucking it snugly underneath her thin crown. There are tears in her advisors eyes when she stands up straight.

“He loved you dearly, Zelda. And he will live on...”

Zelda smiles against the bile rising in her throat, tears stinging at the corners of her vision. She mustn’t cry here, amongst her colleagues and council members. She must stand tall, remain the pillar of hope she has always been, and swallow her despair in silence. She smoothes her features, nodding to Impa to lead the way.

They open the doors to the temple, her royal advisors and the monarchs of other races trickling in little by little as they take their places around the altar. Time passes in a blur as each one bows in respect to her, kisses a hand, and takes a seat. Before she knows it, the high priestess is lifting her arms in direction, and the choir behind her begins to sing as the doors open once again and everyone gets to their feet.

His body is brought in like a warrior, rather than a King. Zelda thought he would have preferred it that way - but now she is selfishly regretting the decision. He is laid not in a coffin, but on an ornate slab encrusted with jewels of every shape and size. He is carried to the pedestal in front of her, his fellow soldiers treating him with gentle care and reverence. Jarrin, the Captain of the Royal Guard and Link’s friend since childhood, is among them. He bends at the knee, and offers her his condolences. He does not stand until she touches a hand to his shoulder, and he moves to take his place behind her right side.

Her eyes have not left Link’s face since he was brought before her. And if there is thanks to give for anything, it is for the dark veil hanging over her eyes.

He sleeps eternally in his Royal uniform, stark white gloves and boots contrasting against the deep blue and burgundy of his tunic. Gold weaves in and out of the stitching, and her eyes follow it to the matching hue of his hair and the glittering crown around his head.

His hands, folded towards his chest, rest lightly across the pommel of the Master Sword. She had protested at first, surely she should be allowed to keep something from his life - but Jarrin had talked her out of her mania.

“We shall replace it before his burial.” He had promised. “It’s purely ceremonial.”

He is pale, paler than he should ever be, in death. But his face is passive, smoothed of any worry. Her eyes commit every feature to memory, tracing over every inch. He has been cleaned up well, his largest wounds covered by bandages and hidden by clothes - but his face they could not hide.

All that is left is a minuscule scratch at the base of his chin and the edge of his brow.

She half expects him to blink.

He does not.

The choir continues as more rights are completed, but Zelda pays not a single attention to them - that is until Jarrin slips the Master Sword from his friends limp hands, folding his cold fingers around a broadsword instead, and presents her the holy weapon wrapped in cloth.

Numbly, she takes it. It’s weight heavier than she remembers. She holds it tightly across her chest as she watches the high priestess read her final blessing, and Impa steps up to the pedestal to mark his forehead with the symbol of the Sheikah.

“In honor.” Zelda hears her whisper.

“For your country...” a line.

“For your Queen...” a rounded edge.

“For your heir...” a dot.

Zelda cradles the growing curve of her stomach, and breathes.

#my writing #Zelink #zelink fanfiction #one-shot #Link/Zelda #angst #grief/mourning #two steps from hell #sad music

[galadrieljones]

As You Were (Chapter 6)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in what feels at first like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret. While there, they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival, and who have recently endured a terrible tragedy on their family farm. Amidst their joint desire to find hope for the future, the two groups decide to set out west together, changing the course of the story (as we know it), and the very course of their lives.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second game. Joel lives.

Chapter 6: La Crosse (Pt. 1) / The Lapp Farm (Pt. 1)

“Well, is that everything you hoped for?”

They found the church in a valley surrounded by dead trees. The main road was blocked and they’d had to hike for a long while off of Highway 61 to find it—through an elementary school campus, an old cemetery, which had been flooded so many times it seemed that certain of bones had begun to rise to the surface of the soil. The church was huge, thought Joel, much bigger than he had expected, with a rotunda and several wings extending in multiple directions. The building was old and made of stone, so much of it still stood, aside from the many rooftops. All was blackened and charred. It was clearly a Catholic church, but there were no indications left as to what it was called.

Noah stood out front, holding his shotgun. Joel stood a little ways behind him, unsure of what was going to happen, or how he should proceed. There were no signs of Infected on the way into the church grounds. The whole valley was wiped. They had only encountered a few signs, which looked old. They were makeshift, slabs of wood with black spray paint. They had said, simply: COTHS. most with directional arrows pointing them toward the city. Some had what looked to be flowers, painted hastily around the letters. Noah had no idea what they meant, but he said they were there last time, too. 

“The horde ambushed us by the side of the road,” he said, switching his shotgun from one hand to the other. “We had stopped to figure out where we were. The signs and the blockades got us confused.”

The sounds of nature, as usual, were deafening all around them. Noah began his story.

“We came up around the opposite side,” he said. “From behind the church. The cemetery and the elementary school, those were all full of Infected when I was here last. There was a big like, storm drain, on the other side of that hill over there. It seemed designed to trap the Infected. They would slide in, and then they couldn’t climb back out again. We tried luring some, but the horde was dozens deep.”

Joel just listened.

“When we got to this church, we barricaded ourselves inside these doors, and then we went down to the basement,” said Noah, “but some more were in there with us. My mom rigged up a couple explosives that killed a few. A bunch of them followed us up the stairs though and we locked ourselves in the rotunda, but they were coming. When they came through the door, my dad and my Uncle Nick hit them repeatedly with Molotovs and that’s what started the fire. It went up really fast, because there were gasoline stores, up above us, in a kind of balcony. A stash that we didn’t notice right away. The rotunda blew. We had to run, so we did. All of us. But when me and my mom got outside, we looked back and we were alone. My dad and my Uncle Nick never made it out. I don’t know if they stayed behind to buy us time, or they got tripped up or crushed, or what. I mean, the ceiling was falling. My mom wanted to go back in but I stopped her. We hid in one of the outer buildings till night, but the fire was still burning, and nobody came out. There were more Infected in the woods. It was spreading. I drove us home.”

Before Joel could say anything then, Noah had begun to make his way up to the church doors. He felt along the hinges, and then he tried slamming one of the doors open with his shoulder. It budged, but it was clearly blocked. He took a step back and looked up as if to try and assess another way in.

“That's a lot of bad stuff,” said Joel. “But I can assure you, there ain’t nobody left inside.”

“No shit,” said Noah. He put the shotgun strap over his shoulder. “I wanna get in to find that gasoline stash.”

“You said it got blown up.”

“Yeah,” said Noah, “but maybe there’s like a clue or something, about whose it was.”

“I doubt anything is left behind, after what you described, and the looks of this place. This—I don’t think we should go in. It’s too dangerous.”

“When we came through these doors last time,” he said, “there was a big tarp, hung like a banner from the wall. It was the same letters as on those signs you see coming in.”

“COTHS?” said Joel.

“Yeah,” said Noah. “It said, Welcome Home, COTHS. Maybe if we can get in, there will be more information about what that means. Maybe something survived the fire.”

“Why do we need to know what that means?”

“Because maybe, if we can find them, they can tell us what’s been happening to the river.”

Joel took a deep breath. He ran his hand along the heavy door, which was singed along the outsides and on all the corners. The smell of burning was long gone, he thought, and replaced with the ambient smells of nature and you could hear birds and the cicadas rip-roaring through the trees. He dropped his hand to his side. “You wanna find out what’s been going on pretty bad, don't you?”

“Yes,” said Noah. “I need to know.”

Joel turned around, looking back out toward the road, where they’d left the truck. Readying himself for the consequences that most likely lie ahead of them, he said, “Why don’t we just follow the signs then?”

Noah was thinking on it. It was a warm day, and humid, and he had his sleeves cut off on his tee-shirt. His sunburn from the day before had turned into a very deep tan. He said, “Do you think it could be that simple?”

“Ain’t nothing that simple,” said Joel. “But it’s a start.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Hang on.” Joel clasped him on the shoulder. “You gotta know, Noah. I been down these kinds of roads before. It ain’t never easy.”

“What kind of roads?” said Noah.

“It’s been a lot of years, since the Outbreak,” said Joel. “Things changed. Rebel armies rose up, people gave up hope in a lot of places—It don’t look like the military has been through here in a very long time, but this here is a city, with enough people to cause problems. There is no telling what we are walking into.”

Noah was staring straight at him, but then he was looking down at his boots, seemed to be calculating something in his mind.

“Now I ain’t trying to deter you,” said Joel, “from finding out what went wrong here, because it destroyed your home. I said I'd help, and I will. I’m just warning you. And I’m saying, if we are gonna walk into a potential enemy territory, we need a plan.”

Noah nodded. He unzipped his backpack. He unfolded a map from the front pocket. It was a map of the University of Wisconsin, La Crosse. He showed it to Joel. “The travelers who came through,” he said, “the ones I mentioned yesterday at the trench, they gave this to my dad before we came up here. They had marked this building, where they said they saw some gnarly shit going down.”

“What kind of gnarly shit?” said Joel.

“They didn’t get into specifics,” said Noah. “Or, if they did, nobody told me. Maybe the signs lead here.”

Noah handed Joel the map, and Joel was trying to understand exactly what it was he was seeing. “Looks like the building you’re talking about is something called Centennial Hall.”

“Centennial Hall,” said Noah. "Good. Let's do it."

Joel studied the map, and then he studied Noah. He had not seen such fire inside a person, not in a long while. “Okay,” he said. He folded up the map, shoved it in his back pocket. “Let’s get a couple things straight first.”

“Fine,” said Noah.

“If we’re gonna do this,” said Joel, “I need you to listen to me. Okay? Take my lead, do exactly as I say. I understand that you seem know what you’re doing, and I trust you to hold your own, but trust me when I say that I got a lot more experience with navigating occupied urban areas than you do. Can we agree on that?”

Noah processed, and then he nodded sternly. “Okay,” he said.

“Good,” said Joel. He looked around, took a deep breath and ignored the nagging impulse to ponder his dumbass, impending mortality, yet again. “Let’s head back to the road,” he continued. “We’re gonna get in the truck, drive as close to the city as we can. Then we’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

Cici and Ellie had to take Cici’s truck that day, over the hill and to the Lapp's scrapyard, to get more fuel for the generator. To trade they had forty one-gallon bottles of fresh water in the bed of the truck, sourced from the Fox River to the east.

“So what’s the rest of the state like?” said Ellie. She had her arm hanging out the window, watching the trees fly by. They were on a shady dirt road that ran alongside the river. “Joel said he expected it to be flatter.”

“Wisconsin is very green,” she said. “And very flat. It is mostly forests and farmland, to be honest. But there are some bad places. Cities. Just like anywhere.”

“Like what cities?”

“Like Milwaukee,” she said. “Kenosha. Racine.”

“I've heard of Milwaukee," said Ellie. "Were there really no QZs in Wisconsin?"

“Not really,” said Cici. She had her blond hair tied back, loose, and pieces of it were falling into her face as she drove. “Those all used to be port towns in the old days, and then they were factory towns, before the Outbreak. I had only been to Milwaukee twice. My husband had some family there. It was big enough, and it should have had an actual QZ.”

“Why didn't it?” said Ellie.

“I don't know why. My dad used to say they didn't have the manpower, but some people said that the infection rates weren't high enough in Wisconsin yet to warrant it. All I know is FEDRA evacuated people from those areas down to the Chicago QZ,” she said. “When they got to the gates, though, the QZ was already too full. A lot were turned away and had nowhere to go.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“No,” said Cici. “It was messed up. I remember seeing it on the news, that they finally tried to outfit a small QZ in Milwaukee to house the overflow, but it was too late. A lot of those people got sick, or they armed up and resisted. The Fireflies—I hear you know about them?”

“Yeah,” said Ellie. “I know about the Fireflies.”

“Well, they started giving them weapons, but it backfired. I think the military abandoned the area, including the Chicago QZ, maybe five or six years ago? The Milwaukee QZ never even got off the ground. It was totally shuttered." She looked down at her knuckles where she held onto the steering wheel. Ellie could tell that Cici was worked up about it, that maybe it had something to do with her husband. "You guys were right to try and avoid that part of the country. It’s bad.”

“Jesus,” said Ellie. “In Boston, we still had soldiers. I mean, I heard they were trying to leave? But the military was like, a basic part of life. It's basically what I was training for.”

“Did you feel safer?” said Cici. “Having soldiers around?”

Ellie watched her hand, resisting the wind as they drove down the dirt road. It was hot out. She wore a tee-shirt and had bandaged up her arm to hide the bite marks. “At first, I thought so. I thought, you’d have to be crazy to wanna kill soldiers. But when I was with Joel and Tess, trying to get out of the city, they were trying to kill us, and like, it was scary. I mean it didn’t help that they were constantly at war with the Fireflies either. Nobody could trust anybody else. I guess that’s why we left in the first place.”

“Joel and Tess?” said Cici. She looked at Ellie, away from the road.

“Oh,” said Ellie. “Yeah, Tess. I—wait. What the hell is that?”

Cici slammed on the breaks. There was a figure, a girl, coming toward them, walking right down the middle of the road. To Ellie, she looked like some kind of nun.

“Oh my god,” said Cici. She got out of the truck right away, left it on to idle. “Ellie, stay here.”

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Just stay here.”

Cici got out of the truck slowly. She had her hand on her side-arm. Ellie opened the door and stood up on the running board, to try and see what the hell was going to happen. As the girl got closer, Ellie could see now that there was blood on her hands and on her plain blue dress. She wore something like a little white bonnet over her mussed hair. She was not a nun. She had to be one of the Amish.

As Cici approached, she held out one hand, as if coaxing a small animal. “Danielle?” she said. “Danielle, are you okay?”

The girl stopped when she saw Cici and looked like she’d been crying. Her hands were bloody, she was getting blood on her face and in her dirty blond hair. Ellie could barely make out what they were saying, but she could catch a little.

“Are you bitten?” said Cici. She held the girl by the shoulder, to steady her.

“No,” said the girl. “I don’t—I don’t think so.”

“What happened?”

“I was just in the barn.”

“Who’s blood is this?”

She said nothing.

“What happened?”

“I was in the barn,” she said. “Gathering eggs. One of them was in there. It is locked inside. I was coming to find you and Noah.”

“Where are Zach, and your dad? Where’s Becky?”

“Zach and my dad are out hunting,” she said. “They’ll be back tomorrow. Becky is at the house. She fell asleep on the day bed. She is safe.”

“Come with us,” said Cici. “I’ll drive you home.”

“I—Thank you. Who is she?” said the girl—Danielle. She had a slight accent, Ellie thought, but there was no way to know what it was. She was staring and pointing at Ellie. She had to be at least Ellie’s age, maybe a little older.

“That’s Ellie,” said Cici. “She’s a friend. Come on.”          

They drove silently, about another mile or so, up a hill. Ellie stared outside at the grass. You could see a very long, green lawn with many tall trees now, including a weeping willow, and nested behind them a white house, which was very simple, with gray shutters and a pair of wooden rocking chairs on the porch. Danielle, the Amish girl, stared down at her hands the entire ride. They were bloodied, and this seemed to really disturb her. Ellie could tell. She sat in between Ellie and Cici on the bench in the cab of the truck.

“I’m Ellie,” said Ellie, awkwardly. Even though she had already been introduced, she felt like she needed to fill the silence with something. She was trying to play it cool, but she didn’t hold out her hand, because she didn’t really know the rules.

Danielle smiled at her, demurely. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. I’m Danielle. I’m sorry about this.”

“Pretty freaky, huh?” said Ellie. “I’ve had those things sneak up on me before, too. It’s not fun.”

A little surprised, Danielle had very bright blue eyes, like swimming pools. “No, it is not fun at all,” she said. “I had to push it away. This is…this is its blood. Not mine. It did not bite me, or get is nails in me. I don’t know why it was bleeding, from its face and neck and shirt. I don’t understand. They are so sick, the Infected. It’s so sad.”

Ellie thought this was a strange point of view, but she listened. “Have you guys, uh, been getting a lot of them, too? Wandering on your property?”

“More lately,” said Danielle. She was scrubbing her hands with her skirt now, trying to get the blood out the crevices. “Cici, we heard explosions again yesterday. Is everything all right?”

“Not really,” said Cici. “But we’re okay. Ellie and I were just driving over to the scrapyard for fuel. We need to keep the electric fence running.”

“Is Noah home?”

“No,” said Cici. “He’s on a supply run.”

Danielle nodded. She turned to Ellie then. She had a wide, warm face, like the sun, and a soft voice. She said, “Are you new on the farm?”

“Me?” said Ellie. “Uh, yes.”

“How did you find this place?”

“My friend and me—his name is Joel—we got lost, coming out of Chicago. We ended up here. He’s actually with Noah now. Helping, get the supplies.”

“You must have gotten very lost if you found yourselves here.”

“That’s what they tell me,” said Ellie.

“I see,” said Danielle. “Cici, did you tell them not to drink the water?”

“We did,” said Cici.

“Good.”

They arrived at a large wooden fence with a tall white gate, and they parked. Around the back of the house, as they had come around the bend, you could see a flower garden, and a clothesline, as well as a wooden swing set, and a tire swing, hanging from an old oak tree. You could not see any scrapyard. But you could see the red barn with the doors chained shut. There were also several acres of corn. The property was empty out front, but if you looked closely upon parking on the drive, you could see fine barbed wire, laid down like a grid across huge swaths of the lawn. It was sneaky and unexpected, and it scared the shit out of Ellie, because she had legitimately not seen it there at first.

“Holy shit,” said Ellie. “What’s this for? More traps?”

“Yes,” said Danielle, as she got down from the truck. “Cici and Noah laid it for us earlier this year.”

“That’s crazy. You ever catch anything in all that?”

“You’re funny,” said Danielle. When she laughed, she sounded like a mouse. Ellie did not feel funny, but it was nice to hear her laugh. “Please come inside, just for a moment. while I clean up. Then I’ll show you where I locked it.”

The inside of the house was plain but, Ellie thought, lovely. All of the furniture was simple and sturdy, carved from wood, and there was a basin but no faucet, a propane stove, and all of the light fixtures were oil-burning. Ellie saw what she was pretty sure was a loom, and many quilts with beautifully bold geometric patterns. They looked similar to the quilts on her and Joel’s beds back at the farmhouse, and Ellie wondered if this might be where they’d come from. In the kitchen, there was a bowl full of brown eggs and a pie cooling on the windowsill. The house was warm and a little stuffy, and the floors creaked beneath their footsteps. Danielle took off her bonnet and set it on the kitchen table beside a terra cotta pot of purple flowers. Danielle scrubbed her hands in the basin, and then her face, until the blood was gone. She was sure to check her arms and hands for bite marks, though she swore she was not bitten, and there was nothing. She was clean, just a little worse for the ware.

“Becky should be here somewhere,” said Danielle. “Becky?” She called out, but the house felt empty. “Where could she be.”

“What kinds of flowers are these?” said Ellie about the pot on the table.

“They’re wood violets.”

“They smell really good.”

Danielle smiled. She looked around again, standing plainly in the kitchen with her hands folded in front of her. She said, “Becky?”

“I will take care of the Infected in the barn,” said Cici. She had not really left the doorway. She didn’t seem uncomfortable, but Ellie could tell that she had not spent much time inside the house, despite having known the Lapps for many years. “Ellie, why don’t you come along.”

“Okay,” said Ellie.

“Becky?”

“Is everything okay?” said Cici.

“I’m not sure,” said Danielle. “Becky was asleep right here, on the day bed, by the window.”

“Is Becky your sister?” said Ellie.

“Yes,” said Danielle. “She is my brother Zachary’s wife. She is pregnant, so she sleeps often.”

“How long has she known?” said Cici.

“A few months.”

“That's a blessing. Best wishes to you all.”

“Thank you.”

“Could she be upstairs?” said Ellie. “I thought I heard something, just now.”

“She must be. Becky?”

Joel and Noah drove until they hit what looked to be the town. They parked at an O’Reilly’s Auto Parts, hauled their backpacks onto their backs, and loaded their guns. The signs continued, most of them nailed to other kinds of signs: COTHS, they read. C.O.T.H.S.

C O T H S

La Crosse had never been a big city. Joel didn’t know a lot, but he could gather as much. It wasn’t big, but it was a college town, and that college was big enough to have a football team. It would have been home to a lot of people during the initial Outbreak, probably forty or fifty thousand, and it was probably a metro-hub for these little Driftless, farming towns, too, with a good hospital, warehouses, factories, and some semblance of a retail industry. It would have been a lot of meth, he thought. Maybe not so much in the city proper, but in the outskirts, in the tin cans and the trailer parks. As a city on the banks of the Mississippi, it would have pretty pockets but mostly, it was just franchises and mini-malls, like anything else.

But this was strange, thought Joel. The goddam of it was, it seemed empty. Really empty. Like, god no longer smiled upon this place, as if something evil had given up on this place, gone on its way. There was nothing. Nothing bad, nothing good. Just the trees, and the nature noises, the grasses, which had grown so tall, they engulfed the cars abandoned at the side of the road. There was a McDonalds sign, growing out of a massive, twisted heap of vines and bramble and it made Joel think of small things that still broke his heart from childhood. He pushed it down.

“This is fucking weird,” said Noah. The air smelled ripe in some places. Rotten. Like an overgrowth of mold in the washing machine. “What the fuck is that smell?”

“Something bad happened here,” said Joel.

“Hey, look,” said Noah. He was headed toward another one of the signs. It said: COTHS.      

“Yep, another sign,” said Joel.

“No, look,” said Noah. He got closer. He had to snap a couple saplings to get to it. This sign was on the ground, leaning against a tree. He pushed back the tall grass, and the milkweed to reveal the rest.

Joel squinted at the words, more paintings of flowers. “Circle of the Holy Signal,” he read, “Welcome all ye who seek submission in its eyes.”

“Circle of the Holy Signal," said Noah. "COTHS. Sounds like a religion or something. Is that good?"

Joel looked around, listening to the cicadas. There were zero recent signs of human life. “Not always," said Joel, suddenly feeling watched, or left behind. "Let's get a move on."

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #joel miller #ellie williams #joel tlou #ellie tlou #as you were

[thetravelerwrites]

The Purple Hoarder (Dragon)

Rating: General Relationship: Female Human/Female Dragon Additional Tags: Exophilia, Dragon, Japanese Dragon Content Warning: Disease, Illness Words: 3202

A 3000 word commission for @alittlespicygay​, the first place reward for the 2000 follower giveaway! A village at the base of the mountain has been stricken with a mysterious disease, the only cure of which is an illusive flower known as the Dragon's Tear. Finding it was easy, actually obtaining it would be a bit more complicated... Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

To say that hiking in the nearby mountains is ill-advised was an understatement: most people who did so never came back. Only desperate people with a death wish were crazy enough to traverse the wilds of the forest, but you were plenty desperate.

A strange illness had overtaken your town, and you, as one of the last healthy people left, had been tasked with going into the mountains to find a rare flower called the Dragon’s Tear, which was supposedly the cure. The quest was made all the more difficult since you’d never actually seen one. In fact, no one had. There were drawings of it, but no one had seen the flower in over two hundred years.

Having packed and bid farewell to the few who could still stand to see you off, you started your long trek into the woods at the base of the mountain.

Two days had brought nothing but blisters on your feet and a sore back from sleeping on the ground. You really had no idea where to go, only a vague idea of what you were looking for. As you sat on the third morning, eating dried fruit for breakfast and staring at the peak of the mountain above you through the canopy of the trees, you suddenly had the intense feeling as though you were going to have to go up. Way up.

So you did. You had to find something that resembled a pathway, as most of the stones were jagged and broken, but after several hours of scrapes and scratches, grunting and heaving, you made it to a ledge to rest, gulping for breath.

As you sat there, trying not to die from lack of oxygen, you felt something brush softly against the back of your hand: a purple petal with black veins and a white base, fresh, perfect, and unwithered. You sat up suddenly, shock driving the exhaustion from your body. That was a Dragon’s Tear petal!

Where! Where had it come from? Scrambling up and grabbing your bag roughly, you tried to find the source of the petal.

After searching, you found a strangely hidden mouth of a cave, cleverly concealed behind a wall of jagged stone. If one was looking from any direction but down at it from above, they’d never have seen it. Petals were drifting out of the opening one or two at a time.

You made your way carefully inside, taking off your shoes so that you didn’t make any sound as your feet glided gently across the floor. It was dark in the cavern, naturally, but there were points of light through the rocks that gave you direction without having to light a torch.

Creeping slowly, you saw more petals peppered here and there on the ground, moving to and fro from the odd wind that permeated throughout the tunnelway. But the petals weren’t what you needed; while the petals had some components needed to treat the sick, the more potent medicine was in the stem of the flower. The petals of one flower might treat one person, but the stem could cure twenty.

As you slowly got closer into the cave, you heard a rumbling sound that continuously grew louder as you went farther in. You began to feel trepidatious, but you didn’t falter in your steps.

The tunnel of the cave opened up into a larger cavern. Light from a small hole in the center of the roof poured in, adding a small amount of light to the cave, just enough to see. You gasped. All around you, covering the floor, the walls, and the ceiling in the purple healing flowers, just growing from the stone. You could take as many as you wanted and cure an entire country. Once the village was healed, you could sell the rest and be rich beyond your dreams. Your mind reeled with possibilities.

As you reached down to pluck one up, you heard the rumble again. Looking up, you saw a dark purple mass, huge, black, and curled around itself, lying in the the middle of the sea of flowers. The way it was laying made it difficult to determine what manner of creature it was, but the way its body rose and fell with the rumbling said it was clearly asleep. Whatever it was, it was big enough to injure you should it wake, so you carefully backed away, bending to snatch a handful of the flowers.

As you did so, your canteen fell out of your bag, falling past the flowers and clattering loudly to the floor.

“Fuck!” You hissed, grabbing it up and pulling out a dagger, looking at the figure as it moved and stretched, shaking out its dark fur. It was long, from it’s neck to its body to its tail. Its limbs were relatively short, however. There were a pair of long horns on its head and it had whiskers that extended past its mouth and downward, like a mustache. It appeared to be a dragon of some kind, though it had no wings.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my home?” The creature said in a distinctly feminine tone, blowing warm breath against you as she spoke. For having been woken by an intruder, she was awfully calm, though you assumed if you could eat your intruders, you wouldn’t be all that perturbed, either.

“I…” You gulped a little but raised the knife in your hand in a way you hoped was menacing. “I’ve come for the flowers. A sickness has taken the village at the base of the mountain. None have died yet, but hundreds are sick and not recovering. Please. I just need the flowers and I’ll never bother you again.”

She snorted out of her nostrils, and your hair was blown back by the wind. “You come in here, threaten me with a toothpick, and make demands? How bold of you.” She sat back on her short hind legs and crossed her front ones, like a disappointed aunt. “What will you offer me for the flowers?”

“Offer you?” You asked, confused.

“Well, yes,” She said impatiently. “You wouldn’t steal flowers from your neighbor’s garden, would you?”

“I would if it saved an entire village of people!” You retorted loudly.

She was unswayed. “What will you offer?”

You sighed sharply. “I don’t have any money,” You replied, holding out your hands helplessly.

She snorted again. “I’m not like my scaly cousins. Money doesn’t interest me. What else can you offer?”

“What do you want?” You asked.

She got back down on all fours and came closer. “Do you have a comb or a hairbrush?”

“What?” You said, feeling more confused that you thought possible.

“Well, look at the state of my fur!” She said, turning. Her fur was rather tangled and full of brambles and twigs. “I don’t have the dexterity to to get it out myself. Or a comb.”

“So you want me to groom you?” You asked skeptically.

“Yes,” She said. “You brush my fur, and I’ll let you have one flower.”

“One?!” You shouted. “It’ll take plenty more than that to cure the entire village!”

“Which is why you will return each day to brush my fur. Each day you come and attend to me, and each day, you’ll leave with one flower. When the town is cured, you won’t have to come anymore.”

“It took me three days to get here!”

“I will fly you down the mountain every evening and come back to pick you up every morning.”

“You can fly? How? You don’t have wings.”

You could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I’m magical, dear. So, do we have a deal?”

“Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You grumbled.

“Oh, there’s always a choice,” She said. “Come along, now. It’ll be better in the sun, where you can see what you’re doing. It’s too dark in here.” As she brushed past you toward the exit, she added, “I’m Raun, by the way.”

You resisted the urge to snatch up a few of the flowers while she wasn’t looking and reluctantly followed her out of the cave, petals whispering against the ground as she moved through them.

Out in the sunlight, you could see that she wasn’t all black like she appeared inside: like the flower petals, her fur started black at the base but grew out into a purple hue. The slitted irises of her eyes were also purple, and the blackness of her horns had an iridescent purple sheen. She lay her long body down on the warm stone and looked at you expectantly. With a sigh, you retrieved a comb and hairbrush from your pack.

Thankfully, she was clean and smelled very nice. She said there was a private pool close by where she bathed regularly, and she attributed the pleasant scent of her fur to the flowers she slept in, which had a vaguely honeysuckle-elderflower smell.

The hardest part was removing each tiny bramble and twig individually before you could even start combing out the tangles. By the time you were halfway through plucking, the sun had begun to set.

“Ah,” She said, standing abruptly and dislodging you. She darted into the cave and returned with a single flower, stem included, and gave it to you. She then lowered her neck to the ground. “Time to get you home. Climb on. Hold my horns.”

Not at all trusting this situation, you carefully swung a leg over her and straddled her right behind her head. Wasting no time, she bound forward and took a dive off of the cliff. You screamed as she came up short of the ground and rose sharply, dancing like a ribbon in the wind as she flew, truly flew, over the canopy of trees back toward the village.

She stopped short of the town’s edge and landed gracefully, though you were still feeling sick.

“I’ll return here in the morning, just after dawn. I’ll have breakfast waiting,” She said. “Also, as part of the deal, you tell no one about me. I don’t need a legion of thieves showing up at my doorstep, if you please. Otherwise, I’ll destroy the flowers and move on.”

“I understand,” You said.

“Good.” Without another word, she leapt and took off back toward her cave. You watched in confusion and a little bit of awe.

You went back into the town and present the flower to the council, telling them you could only find one, but that you’d go back out the next day to look for more. They thanked you, immediately instructing the physician to begin the process of distilling a cure.

You didn’t sleep that night, feeling anxious about the next day. Raun had been rather approachable, friendly even, but she was still a dragon. The stories about them weren’t exactly encouraging, especially about what happens to the people who encounter them.

The next morning, you hiked out again into the woods. Raun was waiting for you there in the place she’d sat you down.

“Ready to go?” She asked, sounding chipper.

“I suppose,” You grumbled.

She cocked her head at you. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Goodness. Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, sighing. “Let’s go.”

She shrugged and, after letting you climb on her back, she took off again.

As she landed and allowed you to slip down, you asked, “So, should we get started?”

“No, no! I said I’d have breakfast ready. Are you hungry?”

“It depends,” You said, eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s not raw meat or anything, is it?”

She snorted again. “No, don’t be silly. I’m a vegetarian.” She led you inside the cave, which you couldn’t help but notice had been spruced up a little. There were other flowers and things littered about. There were even two braziers lit, so that there was more light in the cave and you could see better. You imagined she had night vision and didn’t need the extra light, so she must have put them up just for you.

In the center, where she slept, there was a large array of fruit and vegetables laid out on some kind of fur, most likely bear, and flowers put all around the spread. It was actually… really pretty.

“Why…?” Was all you could manage to get out.

“I don’t have guests all that often,” She said, curling her body around the bear fur with breakfast on it and eating an entire watermelon. “I want you to feel welcome.”

“Oh,” You said, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. You picked up a pear, sniffed it, and ate it.

You ate your fill long before she did, and as you waited for her to finish, being full and warm started to make your eyelids droop and your head nod. You blinked, and when you opened your eyes again, you were laying against her fur with her head in your lap, her eyes closed.

“Um…” You reached out and tugged gently on her ear, which was goat-like, and her eyes popped open, her pupils blown wide like a cat in the dark.

“Ah, you’re awake,” She said, lifting her head off of you. “You fell asleep during breakfast. It’s almost lunchtime now.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” You said. “Please, I didn’t mean it, please don’t withhold the flower today! So many people are still sick!”

“I wasn’t going to,” She replied, taken aback. “I”m not heartless, dear.” She stood up and began walking toward the exit. “Would you like to come and help me pick lunch? I have a garden I’ve been tending in a lower part of the mountain.”

“Sure,” You said slowly and followed her outside.

Her “garden” was practically a farm in and of itself; there were rows of vegetables and trees, and fruit dangling from the vine. In addition, there were flowers everywhere. It was a paradise.

“This is beautiful,” You told her.

If a dragon could smile, she certainly was at the moment. “Thank you! It was years in the making.”

You helped her pick a bushel of various fruits and vegetables and had lunch in the middle of her garden. She then flipped on her back and allowed you to begin detangling the fur on her long belly like a placated housecat.

It went on this way for weeks: every morning you left with Raun to brush out her fur and spend a day talking and, over time, enjoying each other’s company, and every evening you returned to the village with a single Dragon’s Tear. Every day, twenty people were cured of the sickness, and life began to return to the town. You were hailed as a hero, though you felt a bit guilty that all you had done to earn the flower was lounge around with a fluffy dragon in a garden.

Six weeks on, you were sitting against her with her tail in your lap, brushing out the fur. Since you had started, her fur had gone from a tangled, brambles mess to sleek, shiny, and gorgeous. You were almost a little jealous.

“There’s only twenty-three people still sick in the village,” You mentioned casually. “You’ll be free of me the day after tomorrow.”

Raun was silent and still, perhaps sleeping. She often did fall asleep when you were brushing. After a few minutes, though, you heard her ask, “Will you visit me?”

“If you like,” You said. “I know I must be a thorn in your side, coming up here and demanding things from you. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You laughed. “So to speak.”

Raun did not laugh. In fact, she was rather quiet from then on.

The day came when you received the last flower, and she let you down in the same glade as always.

“Well,” She said, sitting down so that she was eye level with you. “I’m glad your people are well. This will be goodbye, then?”

“I’m afraid so,” You told her, patting her nose. “I’m sure you’ll be glad without me underfoot.”

“Take care of yourself,” Raun said. “This village is lucky to have someone like you.”

Before you could reply, she turned and ran off, shooting up out of the canopy and away to her home.

The last few people were cured, and the village held a celebration in your honor. The attention made you extremely uncomfortable, and everything reminded you of Raun. The wine was made with elderflower, there was a watermelon carved in the shape of a dragon, there was a spread of food on a bear skin. This feast should include Raun. She was as much responsible for this as you were.

A week passed, and you dreamed of Raun every night. Some dreams were good, some weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t put her out of your mind.

Will you visit me?

Well… why not? She didn’t kill you the last time you showed up unannounced, and you imagined her fur must be rather tangled by now. You bounced out of your bed in the early morning hours while the village was still quiet, gathered your things, including a giant, brand new horse brush you’d bought for no reason you could think of, and began your trek up the mountain.

It took less time, since you knew where you were going, but it was still the better part of the day to get there. By the time you’d made it to the well hidden entryway, dusk was falling. Inside, you heard a low moaning, like wind through a tunnel. Curious, you went inside.

It was dark, but there was still enough light that you could see Raun inside, sitting with her front legs tucked in, her head bowed, and bright tears dripping down her face and onto the stone. As it hit, a brand new Dragon’s Tear flower bloom instantly from where her tear fell, fully formed and glowing.

It was then you realized as you looked at the flowers all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Each one was a tear, a real tear. How many had she cried? How long? It had to have been before you came because there were already so many then, but now, every inch was covered in the flowers. She must have been crying for days.

“Raun!” You exclaimed, running forward and throwing your arms around her neck. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

She gasped and put her large paws around you. “You came back! I didn’t think you would!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me to come back?” You asked her, pulling her forward by her whiskers.

“I did!” She said, sniffling, another tear leaking out. It landed on the hem of your skirt, and a flower popped up there. “But I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You said. “I haven’t stopped thinking of you. I should have come back sooner.” You kissed her snout repeatedly. “I brought brushes,” You said, a tear or two in your own eyes. “Could you use some grooming?”

“Always,” She laughed back, nuzzling your neck. “But can we have dinner first?”

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The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

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Monster House 7

Summary: Posing as Newlyweds Sam and Y/n set out to investigate what’s killing the visitors of a secluded Inn, and attempt to keep their working relationship professional.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word count: 4884

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, suggestive themes, language, smut

A/N: tropes, tropes, tropes!! Well here’s another wall of text y’all! 

Immerse yourself in the story, Buy Sam’s Scent Here from @scentsfromthebunker (And damn does it smell goooooood)

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

No one wants to tell you how much effort is involved in digging up a six foot deep grave armed with nothing but a couple of old rusty shovels and sheer willpower. No one wants to tell you how long it takes either. The Sun was going to be up in the next hour or so, and the cover of darkness was a necessary precaution when it came to gravedigging. When Sam’s shovel struck something hard and hollow you could not have been more thrilled. Your eyes met his, as he moved to get a better angle. 

Sam jammed the spade of his shovel between the lid of the coffin and the side prying it open with creaking wood and a crack of relief as the lid came loose. 

“…The hell?” Sam’s face twisted in confusion as he lifted the top, hazel eyes moved back to you as he shoved the lid to the side of the hole revealing an empty coffin.

“Well that can’t be a good sign.” You announced, just as puzzled as Sam.

“You’re sure he said he was buried here?”

“No Sam, I just made it up so we could pointlessly dig a hole in the middle of the night for fun.” You rolled sarcastic eyes at him.

“Hey, I know how much you love digging holes. So if he’s not here-”

“Then just where the fuck is he?”

Together, you and Sam dug up the next grave, Mrs. Wellington’s body- also gone.

 In less than an hour the night sky would turn and Sunrise would come all too quickly. Time was up, none left to double check the coffins of the children, but the conclusion was that it would be a fruitless effort regardless. They would likely be gone. The two of you shoveled the dirt back into the holes and set to hike back to the Inn.

“So… How do we stop a ghost that doesn’t have bones?” You asked, wiping sweat from your brow with the back of your dirty hand.

“Better question is what took them?” Sam replied. 

The snap of a branch echoed through the trees and you both stopped in place, cautious eyes scanning the woods around you. In an instant you were transported back to the Wilderness of West Virginia, that fateful day. Had it followed you? Was that even possible? Was there more than one? You never spoke about it, never spoke aloud what happened to your family in fear that the White Thing would somehow find you again to finish the job. 

Sam put a large hand on your shoulder, gathering your attention and pointing about thirty yards north to a little blip of light strobing between the trees. You certainly weren’t alone, but your anxiety quelled at the notion of it being literally anything other than the White Thing. When you and Sam moved it was in stealth, following the light back to the rotting house you found the day before. The light turned off, and the shadow of a tall man wrestled with the lock on the door for a moment before the loud clattering of chains fell to the forest floor.

“Same guy from yesterday.” You said. Same height, same hunched over posture. The bag he dragged behind him had a body in it no doubt. The stench from the kitchen was far to foul to be anything other than a body, it wasn’t a far leap to guess what this bag was filled with too. He disappeared into the house followed by the sound of clacking locks. You followed Sam to the back of the house to the busted basement window. It was easy going in when no one was home, far harder to screw up the courage when you didn’t quite know what was locked in the house with you.

“Are you strapped?” Sam asked, you gaped at him. What nerve. You tugged up the back of your shirt where your handgun was tucked into the lining of your jeans.

“Uh, yeah Sam. I’m not an amateur.” You snarked, it came out a little bitchier than you’d intended, but Sam didn’t seem too bothered giving you a dimpled grin in response. To be fair you had a right to be sarcastic. You’d been doing this just over half your life. Left home at 15 and never looked back. It was rough in the beginning, learning the ropes. Thankfully you were a pretty quick study; save for some bumps, bruises and scars along the way, you managed. 

Sucking in a deep breath you readied yourself to climb back into that dank basement. Sam was looking at you, you could see him in your peripheral, sizing you up and gauging your reactions. Surely he noticed your hesitation, but he gave you the much needed moment before offering to step in for you. The idea of Sam, gigantic, humongous, Sam trying fit through that tiny ass window? Ha! You’d pay good money to see him try but now wasn’t the time.

You let out a huff, breath coming out as mist dissipating in the air, before setting to your task and climbing into the window again. Boots hit the dirt floor with a soft thud as you allowed time for your eyes to adjust to the pitch. Barely visible shapes of shelves bloomed in your sight, your hands slid along the wall careful of your surroundings as you tried to make it blindly to the cellar door. Sam watched you disappear into the dark, moving to the door for the tell tale sound of the log being moved. 

A full minute passed, and the edges of paranoia crept in. You were still trying to find your way, it was too dark in there, he should have given you a light.

30 more seconds. He’d give you 30 seconds to find the door. Much too impatient for that he stepped back to the broken window, whistling a bird call. When you didn’t reply with a call of your own his panic was full blown. Something was wrong. 

He wouldn’t fit through the window. He couldn’t break through the log sealing the cellar doors, and even if he thought he could, it would waste too much time trying. The open window on the second floor was too high, even for his height. There was no way he’d break through the locks on the front door. The windows were all boarded from the inside. The scenarios whipped through his head like a meteor shower, all of them landing back exactly where he was, helpless. 

A loud crash from inside the house ripped him from his thoughts, then gunfire. And another crash. Before he had a chance to think again his feet moved, following the sounds of struggle, and pain. Fingers dipped into a soft spot along the outside of the wall, he stopped on the spot, brow furrowing in thought. The wall was squishy there, bloated with water, mold, and old termite damage. He pressed both hands into the wall and like a sponge it gave way, just enough to give him hope.

Another scream ripped from your throat, and it was all the confirmation Sam needed to plow his shoulder into the wall, and tear through it like tissue paper. He stumbled into the room with the closet pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Another scream, more in pain than the last, and he rounded the corner into the kitchen, a struggling body writhed on the table, as something pinned it to the table face down.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted, unloading three rounds into the back of the shadowed figure. It stood upright, and turned on heel to face him, taller, and broader than even Sam was.

“Sam! Ghoul!” You screamed as you rolled off the table , hitting the ground with a thud. Sam adjusted his aim, Ghouls meant headshots. With a bang the silver bullet let loose ripping through the forehead of the shadow, reducing it to a heap on the ground. Over as quickly as it had begun. On instinct Sam found you, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey, you alright?”  He asked, helping you to your feet. Out of breath and exhausted you let out a laugh.

“Just fuckin’ peachy.” You muttered. You snagged the ends of the body filled plastic bag the Shadow had drug in, clutching the tender spot at your side with a grunt. “Lets’s get the fuck out of here.”

Sam agreed, grabbing the body of the Shadow, and leading the way out the front door. The moonlight illuminated your attacker. Probably the groundskeeper based on the coveralls, and the smell of sweat, dirt, body odor and death; you were now sure the putrid scent wouldn’t wash off no matter how many showers you took.

“Jinkies. Why is it always the groundskeeper?” You said, enthusiasm lacking severely in your tone. Sam crouched tearing a hole in the black plastic trash bag. Sure enough, a body,

“Nolan…” He sighed, disappointment setting in. The man from the parlor earlier that night. “He said his wife was sick, he looked pretty rough himself.”

“Worse now.” You replied.

“How did this happen right under our noses?” Sam questioned. He should have seen it coming. Sam usually got more involved in cases than you did. He always found a way to connect with people, always cared. People trusted him, it was the puppy dog eyes you thought. He just had a specific charm that cut through the walls of anyone. You loved that about him. Other people loved that about him. On the other hand, you were not so warm and fuzzy. Of all the descriptors in the world “people person” was not among them; you never knew what to say to make it better when he beat himself up over a loss. But you admired that he gave a damn enough to still feel anything anymore.

“Sam, we were out digging graves all night. We couldn’t possibly have known. Hell, we were pretty sure it was a ghost until like literally right now.” You said, dropping a hand to rest on his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. Looking past him at the body it became clear what Sam meant. The body was still warm, but Nolan was sickly looking, not just the dead kind of sickly, spent, and sallow, greying in pallor even for a freshly dead body. The Ghoul hadn’t even gotten the chance to chomp into him yet. “Did he say how long he was sick for?”

“No. But I got the impression that whatever the Wife was sick with hit her pretty quick.” Sam said with a shake of his head. This explained how parts of the bodies were being found. The Ghoul ate what it wanted and scattered the rest throughout the grounds.

“ If I’m right, and I usually am- If this was the groundskeeper, how much do you want to bet he was talking to one of the Overly-Friendly Innkeepers yesterday?”

“Think they’re in on it too?” He asked.

“I have some suspicions.” You answered. Fucking. Esmeralda. That woman rubbed you the wrong way from the first second, if there was something else fishy going on you’d stake your life on the claim that she was behind it. Something wasn’t adding up, and it stunk, like Esmeralda. Ugh, no. She probably wears designer perfume and smells amazing.

Disposing of the bodies was quick but messy. Nolan deserved to be salted and burned, but the ghoul… just to be sure it was dead you and Sam dismembered it, and buried it in the dirt basement. Time seemed to speed up with the Sunrise, and you barely made it back to the Inn before the sky lit up entirely.

Sam helped you shrug out of your jacket. A fresh, but shallow bite mark on your left shoulder was just one of two injuries you sustained, The other was a piece of wood sticking out just over your ribcage. That was going to suck. Bumps and bruises aside you walked away from the fight in pretty good condition. You’ve suffered far worse on hunting trips, this was cake.

“What happened in there?” He asked, the shame in his voice was palpable. It was guilt. Guilt that he wasn’t the one who climbed in and got hurt. Guilt over the fact that you didn’t even want to be there, that you hated this job, that you hated this lifestyle, and he put you in danger. It should have been him.

“I don’t know- he grabbed me out of the black, and the next thing I knew he was trying to take a bite out of me.” You answered. Sam’s  fingers brushed over the supple skin at the back of your neck raising goosebumps in the wake of his touch as he pulled the collar of your blood soaked shirt to the side to inspect the bite. Turning into a monster was the last thing you wanted to worry about, but you couldn’t remember if Ghoulishness was communicable or not. No, of course it wasn’t. Well… maybe. No. It’s not. But it could be. How the fuck were Ghouls even formed? You couldn’t think straight with Sam’s hands on you. “Is it bad? I’m not going to turn into a Ghoul am I?” 

“Uhm… I don’t think this is a bite.” Sam replied, humor in his tone, as he looked at three large dots in a perfectly straight line just above your shoulder blade. Either it was the oddest bite mark on Earth or…

“Well what is it then?”

“Best guess. A fork?” He answered.

“What?”

“It uh- it looks like you were stabbed with a fork. You’re up to date on your tetanus I hope?”

“Are you serious? I got fucking stabbed with a fork?” You questioned, standing up to inspect it yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. 

“Better than being bitten right?”

“Ah ha ha ha. You think you’re funny don’t you?” You snarked, a pleased little smile graced Sam’s lips as he poured alcohol over the little punctures, like pouring lemon juice over papercuts, and then placed a single wide bandaid over it. “Thanks, Doc, am I cured now?”

“Not yet, let’s see those ribs.” He commanded. A little more than happy to oblige you struggled to tug your soiled t-shirt over your head. Some of those stains weren’t coming out, and it was one of your favorites. Sam stepped up to help, fingers grazing over your bare skin as he freed you. There it was, over your left rib cage a large black and purple bruise, with a large chunk of wood buried deep under the skin and out the other side. Hed it been any less intriguing to look at his eyes certainly would have fixed lower than you face. He could see you half naked a thousand times and you would never stop taking his breath away. But he was a gentleman, and you had made your professionalism clear, even though you called to him in your sleep. 

“Oh gross.” You exclaimed upon seeing the biggest splinter you’d ever gotten. No, not a splinter, you straight up got stabbed with a piece of wood. 

The struggle was real, he caught you completely off guard, you didn’t hear him, didn’t know the houl was down there in the dark with you until he clamped a large hand over your mouth and wrapped you up in arms too thick and strong for you to do much. But he wasn’t counting on you giving him the struggle of a lifetime. 

“I’ve never had living flesh before.” He taunted. Kicking and biting all the way up the stairs you finally saw an opportunity and dug your feet into the doorframe refusing to go any further, pushing back hard enough to knock him off balance and drop you. You hit the floor and rolled yanking your handgun from the back of your jeans and unloading 3 rounds into his chest, but he kept coming stalking towards you getting angrier with each bullet. He whipped a hand across your face, before grabbing you by the shoulders and slamming you onto an end table which collapsed beneath you splintering into shards, then pain. Yanking you up by the hair he threw you into the kitchen table and then he was on you. That sick rancid smell of rotting meat and death permeating every sense. Until gunfire, and Sam.

“You know this means we have to stay longer.” Sam stated, as he set to work trying to figure out the best extraction method. It was deep but nothing punctured, a clean through and through. Best thing to do was just pull it out. 

“Yeah, I figured as much. I’m not thrilled about it, gotta say.” You replied. Sam responded with a  half smile, focused on the task at hand, with a quick motion he yanked the shard of wood straight out of your side. “OW!” You yelped, and shoved his shoulder in mock offense.

“Hard part’s over now.” He said, before pouring more whiskey over the open wound. With a wince you shoved him again. Sam just smiled, and began the less than fun process of sewing up the two large puncture wounds. It would have been easy to watch him work forever. It would have been easy just to watch him do literally anything forever.

“Why are you nervous in the woods?” He asked, out of the blue, and feeling like walking straight into a wall.

“What kind of question is that? You know why, you know what’s you there.” A half truth. Sam saw through it, saw through you.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s just that. You’ve been on edge since we pulled in.”

“To be fair I could be back home stuffing my face with pizza rolls with a six pack, binge watching Outlander. But instead I spent the night digging graves. You should be on edge too.” Mmm… Jamie. You had a full docket, wasn’t that enough reason to not want to go traipsing around the woods digging up empty graves under the scrutiny of the weird Staff and getting stabbed with a fork? It was more than justifiable to you.

“That’s how you’d spend your week alone?” Sam asked with a chuckle, snipping the ends of the suture.

“Pfft, I’m not telling you all my secrets.” You replied. Oh but he could imagine the things you might do by yourself. Did you ever think of him? Just once even. What he wouldn’t give for confirmation. The little sounds as you touched yourself, the things you might be thinking in your own head. The thin layer of sweat glistening in the cool night air. His name falling from your lips in a gasp as you came apart. But there was only one secret he was truly interested in.

“Okay, then just tell me one. What’s going on with you?” He said snipping the ends off of the final stitch.

“Look, Sam I’m not going to give you my damn- origin story. I just don’t care much for the woods is all.” You snipped. End of conversation. Shut that shit down. You never told anyone what happened. It was something you intended to take to the grave. It was something you intended to keep locked away even from yourself. So much time and effort went into fighting the memory of that day, you couldn’t just drudge it up for anyone. Sam wasn’t anyone. Could you do it for him?

“Okay. Maybe I misread you. But- uh… If you did. Want to give me your origin story, I would be more than happy to listen.” He reassured, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Suddenly you felt guilty for not sharing. It was your story to give if you wanted to, but now it felt like you were just hiding something.

“It’s violent, and bloody, and traumatizing, like everyone else’s. There’s nothing more to it.” You dismissed, moving to grab clean clothes to sleep in, and a towel.

“I don’t think you’re like everyone else.” Sam replied, stopping you in your tracks. If you turned around, if you looked at his face, you’d cave. So you didn’t.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s the same old song and dance. You see something, you lose someone, you search a little too hard and then you get sucked in.” You said and disappeared into the bathroom.

After a night like this, the best cure for any ailment was a steamy shower with the water cranked as hot as you could stand it. Letting it wash over you, carrying away the dirt, the blood, the sin, it was as close to tranquil as you’d ever get. And you were not one to miss out on a shower at a nice hotel. Great water pressure, perfect temperature. Ah, it was like heaven. The nagging in the back of your mind was impossible to ignore. Open up. Just tell him. Just do it. You might feel better. You’ve only kept this secret for a decade and then some. Speaking it into reality doesn’t make it any more or less real or true. It happened, it couldn’t un-happen. You can’t undo it, and it wouldn’t make the pain of that any more bearable if you shared it with someone. And of all people… it was Sam. 

Stepping out of the bathroom finally your eyes immediately landed on Sam pouring over John’s journal. There you were again getting lost in his visage, still covered in dirt, and exhausted beyond measure. You walked up behind him and leaned over his shoulder, between the sweet and floral scent of your shampoo and the feel of your breasts as you leaned against him, he could have melted into your arms. Soft, and warm, if he paused in his mind he could trick himself, for a brief moment, that this was how it always was. 

“Someone’s been busy.” Your eyes scanned the various papers and notes spread over the table in front of him, picking up one of the papers your brow nit at the list. “Vampire, Vetala, Djinn… What is this?”

“I don’t think Nolan and his wife were sick. You saw his corpse he looked sucked dry. I’m trying to find anything that takes the life force to feed. It happened fast, but over time. So it’s not a wraith, or Okami, or a Banshee.” He explained. Something just wasn’t adding up for him, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“That’s a pretty short list.” 

“No kidding.”

“You’re brilliant, it’ll come to you.” You said, dropping the paper back on the table, and moving to the chair beside him. Pausing and starting and pausing again, you struggled to find the words. Being vulnerable was not a speciality of yours, in fact you did your damndest not to let yourself feel that way. It only led to pain and digging up shit you’d buried for reasons.. But with Sam you weren’t afraid. You knew his story, yours was just as unbelievable, it was only fair. “So, uhm… When I was 15, I was walking through the woods behind our house, it was basically a straight shot home from school, and I used to play in those woods, like… all the time as a kid. But one day it was like the forest was alive and threatening me.”

You made the mistake of looking at his face, fixed in confusion, concern, maybe even adoration. He’d dropped everything, the monsters in the book before him suddenly meant nothing.

“I know how it sounds, but trust me, they- the trees moved, and switched on me, and I got lost, and then. Then there was this stillness, like a vaccuum sucked out all of the air, you could hear a pin drop. And the… White Thing. “ A chill ran down your spine, raising goosebumps, he took your hands in his. “And it was the most terrified I’d ever been, I thought I was going to die, but it handed me this little stone.”  He didn’t believe you, or you were convinced he didn’t. Either way it didn’t matter, you had proof. You stood and walked to the bed, yanking your bag from under it, and rifling through the pockets, finding it with an ah-ha you returned to the table and set the little green stone with a carving in it on the table. Sam’s brow creased as he picked up the stone, his mouth moving to speak, but you cut him off.

“I left it there in the woods. I didn’t touch it. I ran straight home, and eventually passed out I guess. In the morning I got up and uh-… I went to find my brothers, and my parents, It was a blood bath, They were dead, all of them, and this stupid fucking rock was left there. That thing killed them, it was in my home… I was asleep. I didn’t even know.” Sam gave your hands a reassuring squeeze thumbs running over your knuckles as he leaned in until there was nothing but him in your vision. There was empathy in his eyes, no pity, or disbelief. You took in a breath to steady yourself, emotions beginning to peak more than you were comfortable displaying. You sniffed back the tears that threatened to gather.

“I tried to throw it out, back into the woods. Down a well. I buried it. I smashed it. I threw it into a river, a lake, the ocean. I threw it out of a car. Sam I’ve tried to get rid of this thing for almost 15 years. It just keeps coming back.” You said with an exasperated sigh attempting to catch your breath, gripping his fingers tightly. “Anyway… It wasn’t long after that I went searching for answers, and found the life.”

“And here you are.” He said, eyes like a field of sunflowers fixed on yours mesmerized by you.. Heart jumping into your throat you leaned in, closing the space between you to practically nothing.

“Here I am.” You whispered. He was close enough you could feel the warmth from him, you could practically taste him. You wanted more than anything in the entire world to know how his lips tasted. More than anything he wanted to know what yours tasted like.

Knock! Knock!

Nearly jumping out of your skin, and now boiling you turned a rage filled head to the door stomping to it more than happy to give that perfect little shit a piece of your mind. It was barely past 6am and Esmeralda was already trying to sink her claws into Sam? Yanking the door open you started in.

“Look I don’t know what your deal is but-” It was Derek! And he looked mortified. “Oh, shit I’m sorry! I  thought you were someone else.” Not that it made it any better.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wesson, I thought you might be awake. Pardon the interruption. Breakfast will be served shortly, but I wanted to deliver you this. For the Masquerade Ball tomorrow night.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Masquerade?” The dumbfounded look on your face must have been entertaining because Derek chuckled and handed the box to you. Sam stood up and walked to the door, hearing Derek’s voice and hearing about a delivery was more than enough for his interest to pique past disappointment at what just transpired- or rather, what didn’t. He stepped in close resting a hand at your hip, happy to play the territorial husband.

“Yes, in carrying on the tradition set down by the Wellington’s. This year’s theme is Heaven and Hell.” Derek explained.

“How charming. If there’s one thing I love more than a Ball, it’s a Masquerade. What is this box for?” What’s in the box? What’s in the boooxxx?! Brad Pitt. No, but really there better not be a human heart or something weird.

“Well, forgive the assumption, but you don’t strike me as the type to typically shop for such occasions, I sent for a few things for you.”

“You- I’m sorry, you sent for a few things?” You clarified, because clearly there was blood in your ear or something. Peeking into the box you gasped, and shook your head trying to hand the box back. “This is like a lot of money’s worth of a few things Derek. I’m sorry I can’t accept this.”

“But I insist, you may return them after the night is over, but in the meanwhile I think they will suit you.” Derek said, not taking no for an answer and stepping away from the door.

“Thanks…” You replied, unsure and a little confused. Turning to face Sam you kicked the door shut.

“There’s a really fancy dress and jewelry and stuff in this box.” Panic. You were in panic mode now. You were expected to wear that stuff- and lets not even touch how creepy-weird it is that the fucking Innkeeper just “sent for a few” really expensive, but also really pretty things for you! Ew! Weird! Pretty… You were expected to wear high heels.

“Well, if we’re going I guess I need to go into town later.” Sam said.

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#Sam Winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam x reader #monster house

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Someone You Loved (Part 3)

Summary: The reader is the daughter of a well known mafia boss in her city and is used to an easy going life. When her father is arrested along with his crew, the reader is forced into a different life full of lies and adversity. Worst of all, her boyfriend of the past year, Dean, is an undercover cop who put her father away. She’s perfectly content with never seeing Dean again but he has a habit of making his way back into her life…

Pairing: Cop!Dean x Mafia!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, angst, harassment

_____

You’d just finished jotting down the last of your math notes when the doorbell rang the next day. You heard your dad answer as you hopped up from your desk and grabbed your purse, quickly out in the hall. Dean was wearing a loose open flannel, smiling at something your dad was saying to him.

“Ready?” asked Dean.

“Mhm,” you said, cocking your head at him in his plain clothes.

“Small department. We don’t have much of a dress code,” he said with a smile.

“Being the boss has its perks,” said your dad.

“It does indeed,” said Dean. “I figured we could grab a bite here in Deer Creek? So I can get you back in time for class.”

“Oh, she can take the classes whenever she wants. She’s already two weeks ahead of the curriculum,” said your dad.

“Dean does have work, dad,” you said. “Come on.”

Dean gave him a smile before you were both piling into Baby, Dean driving for a few minutes before finding the cafe on main street, the two of you seated quickly.

“Your dad looks different. Way less stressed out,” said Dean.

“Being a bum will do that to you,” you said. “I’m trying to figure out ways of getting him out of the house more to be honest.”

“He could get involved with town stuff. These small towns are full of those meetings and boards,” said Dean.

“Maybe. How’s the town council going?” you asked.

“It’s alright. I had a meeting this morning on it. There’s a lot of stupid stuff in my opinion on it but you know, these people don’t have much else to do,” he said.

“You’ve never been afraid of taking charge,” you said.

“I came here so I could get away from that sort of thing,” he said.

“You came to hide,” you said.

“I’m okay with a quiet little life,” he said.

“You really want to live in Hawthorne forever?”

“I wanted a slower pace job. I can do what I’m supposed to and that’s it. They had a spot open and I knew it was close to you,” he said, pursing his lips. “Someone needs to watch your back. You have a knack for finding trouble.”

“I find the trouble? Look who’s talking,” you laughed. He shrugged, thanking the waitress when she brought over your drinks.

“Deer Creek’s a nice place,” he said. “Near the woods and mountains. It’s pretty here.”

“Hawthorne is pretty too. It’s quieter is all,” you said. “It feels like the middle of nowhere.”

“I mean, there’s nothing on the other side of Hawthorne so it kind of is. I’ve heard there’s lots of good hiking and camping around. There’s a big outdoors store here I’ve been told,” he said.

“That sounds fun,” you said. “I should totally get my dad to go hiking.”

“That’s a great idea. He’s looking a little rounder than I remember,” he chuckled.

“He was like that after my mom died too,” you said.

“How’d you snap him out of it?”

“We started to hang out more. Dad was not the mafia boss anymore but just dad, you know? Now that I know what he was really up to, I know he’s a better person than I gave him credit for,” you said.

“He still was a money launderer,” said Dean with a smirk. “But there’s a reason they never tried to get him for anything. I think out of your family only your cousin Mark had like a public intoxication arrest on him and I mean, that was Mark so that’s not surprising.”

“Do you know what happened to all of them?” you asked.

“I think most of them stayed in their new towns where it was safe, started living normal lives. Your cousin Sarah is going to art school in Florida I think,” he said.

“Good for her,” you said.

“It’s probably a blessing in disguise you know. Your family all have normal jobs, no records. They got out before something bad happened,” he said.

“How’s Sam?” you asked. He shrugged. “He still undercover?”

“No. He...he’s actually transferring to the Deer Creek department. He got in a bit of trouble for telling you the truth. But he trusted you,” said Dean.

“I’d like to have a civil conversation with him for once,” you said. “Tell him Gary was a super dick.”

“He was, wasn’t he?” teased Dean. You bit your bottom lip, Dean giving you a smile. “What?”

“Why’d you blow up at the bar that night? I mean, you knew that was Sam playing Gary after all. Couldn’t you have blown your cover?” you asked.

“Yeah. I could only take so much though, even pretend,” he said. You nodded and were both quiet for a few minutes, your salad coming out and a tiny smile on your face as you caught Dean eating one of his own. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t eat rabbit food,” you said.

“I’m trying to,” he said, picking at the meat in his bowl first. “So. You go to school everyday?”

“It’s all online. Aside from a few timed tests on certain days, it’s more go at your own pace. I figure with summer classes, I’ll get a degree in three years instead of four,” you said.

“What about your college classes from high school? You would have gone in with credits,” he said.

“I...totally forgot about those actually,” you said.

“See if they’ll take ‘em. You’re just looking for a degree right? Maybe you can save yourself a semester,” he said.

“I told you about that like, once,” you said.

“I am very good at remembering,” he said, poking at the rest of his salad.

“Excuse me,” you said when your waitress went past. “Can we get a BLT wrap instead of the salad?”

“Sure thing,” she said, taking the bowl away.

“Thanks,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baby steps,” you said.

“Baby steps,” he said.

His new food came out a few minutes later, Dean telling you about the local area as he ate. He’d been there about a week or so. He was staying in the previous police chief’s house on the edge of town. He was a bit miffed that there was no garage with it but he figured he could always add one later on.

He started to talk about Baby, a topic you knew he could on about for hours and hours if left to his own devices. You smiled as he spoke and ate his wrap, Dean loosening up and acting like his old self.

“What’s with the goofy look?” he asked with a chuckle. You shook your head.

“You sound like you again is all,” you said.

“You always did like listening to me talk about Baby,” he said.

“You don’t get between a boy and his first love,” you teased.

“No. You don’t,” he said, twitching his lip up. “You got a little…”

He wiped at the corner of his mouth, your tongue jutting out around yours.

“Still didn’t get it,” he said as he leaned over, wiping off a bit of dressing with a napkin. “Perfect.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said.

“You shaved this morning,” you said. He ran his hand over his jaw, a little hair there but much more like you were used to. “It looks good.”

“I was due for one,” he said. “I got to head back to work but maybe I’ll see you at Breacher’s tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll be working,” you said.

“Good. I’ll make sure to swing by then.”

Two Weeks Later

“Are you two sure you ain’t dating?” asked Mel. You smirked behind the bar top as you poured his refill, Dean hiding his smile as he bit into his burger.

“They flirt enough,” said Victor, Dean chuckling and wiping off his mouth. “What do you say chief?”

“It’s complicated,” said Dean.

“Extremely,” you said.

“Eh, it ain’t that complicated,” said Mel.

“Trust us,” you said, wiping down the bar, surprised when Victor stood up. “Just the one drink tonight?”

“Yeah. I ought to go spend some time with my wife,” he said. “Night.”

“Night Vic,” said Dean, Mel raising an eyebrow when he left. “There a story there?”

“They been fighting a lot lately. I keep telling the idiot to spend some time with her,” he said.

“Maybe he’s finally listening,” you said. Mel nodded and knocked back his drink.

“I should take that advice myself. I’ll see you kiddos around,” he said.

“Drive safe, Mel,” you said.

“Do I smell or something?” teased Dean.

“Oh yes. It’s quite horrifying,” you said, giving him a laugh after a moment. “Those two should be at home anyways. It’s getting late.”

“It’s nine,” said Dean.

“Late for them,” you said. You cleaned up their plates and glasses, exiting out of the kitchen area a minute later to see another man sitting next to Dean, a head of longer hair on him.

He gave you a friendly if not weary smile.

“Moose,” you said, tossing down a coaster.

“Chipmunk,” he said. “You look good.”

“I was wondering when I’d see you around. Looking like the fifth beatle there,” you teased. Dean snickered in his seat, Sam whacking him in the back of the head. “What’ll it be, Sammy?”

“Just a pepsi. I’m on duty,” said Sam. “Lunch break actually.”

“Want the kitchen to whip something up for ya?” you asked.

“Is there anything not covered in grease?”

“Pie. They make good pie here,” said Dean. “Can I order my pie now too?”

“Pie for Dean and I’ll get a garden salad for you Sam,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said as you jotted it down. His salad was out fast with the kitchen slowing down, Dean wolfing down his pie the second you had it out. “I guess you really are doing better.”

“Told ya so,” said Dean.

“So...you guys dating again?” asked Sam.

“It’s...a work in progress,” you said.

“We both agreed we should wait a little while, give us time to try and get our heads on straight,” said Dean.

“Is that why you smile at your phone like an idiot when she texts you?” asked Sam.

“Shut up,” said Dean.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Sam, turning to you. “About the Gary thing...I’m sorry for all that stuff.”

“You were just doing your job,” you said, setting his second soda down in front of him. “It’s alright, Moose.”

“Oh I see. I do all the groveling groundwork and Sam gets to reap the rewards,” teased Dean.

“Just a tad different, De,” you said.

“Yeah. De,” said Sam with a big smirk.

“At least I have a girlfriend,” mumbled Dean.

“I thought it was a work in progress. Plus I’m married you idiot,” said Sam.

“Didn’t I tell you he was an annoying little shit?” said Dean.

“He’s a little brother. Kind of in the handbook, Dean,” you said.

“I didn’t hear a correction in there,” said Sam.

“You really are a little shit, Sam,” you said.

“Told ya,” said Dean.

“Still,” said Sam. “You two…”

“Leave it alone, Sammy,” said Dean. He dropped it at that, making some small talk as he waited for another slice of pie to come out. You tended to the rest of the bar, the two of them talking about their days. It reminded you of when they’d talk when you were over Dean’s place. It was always kind of cute to you how they checked in everyday.

“Y/N?” asked Sam. You hummed, giving him a smile. “I asked if you were going hiking with us this weekend.”

“I didn’t know I was invited,” you said. Dean glared at Sam, opening his mouth slowly. “Hey. You two should have your brother time.”

“I was gonna ask later,” said Dean quietly. “You got midterms soon and-“

“And Y/N’s coming with,” said Sam. “Right?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said.

“Don’t bug her, Sammy,” said Dean.

“When are you gonna stop being depressed and tell-“

“Really?” said Dean. He stood up and put down some money, Sam looking to you for help. Dean was gone like that though and Sam closed his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” mumbled Sam.

“Probably not,” you said. “It’s why it’s a work in progress, Sam.”

“It’s kind of stupid in my opinion. You’re both still into each other. It wasn’t like you broke up because you stopped liking each other,” he said.

“No. What happened was much worse,” you said. “There’s a lot of hurt feelings there.”

“Then why don’t you hate me as much?” said Sam.

“I didn’t love Gary, Sam. Gary was a dick. One that scared me,” you said. “But you weren’t that much worse than a bad night tending bar or the walk home at three in the morning.”

“He never told you, did he,” said Sam.

“Told me what?”

“There were two regulars at your bar. Hank and a younger guy, Teddy. You never noticed that Teddy always came in just after Hank would head out?” asked Sam. You tilted your head back, Sam taking a sip of his drink. “Dean was concerned. He convinced the department to give you a protection detail in the event that you might be able to help with the organization.”

“So you’re telling me that every night I was creeped out walking home by myself, there was a cop nearby watching my back?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam.

“He didn’t tell me that,” you said. “He’s such an idiot sometimes, I swear.”

“There are worse idiots to wind up with,” said Sam.

“Carl, you mind watching the bar for a minute?” you asked, one of the waiters nodding as you skirted around the top and over to the front door. You poked your head outside, Dean leaning over Baby with his head down. “Winchester!”

He popped his head up and spun around as you headed over, Dean looking behind you, his hand on his gun.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No. No. You gonna invite me to go hiking?” you asked.

“What’d Sammy say in there?” he asked, dropping his hand away.

“You’re sweet. Nothing I didn’t know already though,” you said. “So, hiking?”

“I’m not…” said Dean, gnawing on his bottom lip, shifting on his feet. You reached out and grabbed his hands, Dean staring down at them. “You know I shove stuff down. You have a way of dragging it up and making me deal with it and I don’t want to deal with...I want to be your boyfriend again. I do. I want it to be the way it used to be but I know it’s never going to be that way. You’ll never trust me like that again and I’ll never not feel guilty. I just need more time to deal with that, okay? Maybe we go hiking next weekend, just us. I need time to-“

“Don’t assume things about me Dean,” you said, dropping his hands.

“A month ago you hated my guts,” he said. “You’ve spent the past few months hating me.”

“Don’t push me away because you’re afraid of feeling something again, Dean,” you said. “Don’t put words in my mouth either.”

“You said-“

“I said a lot of things and most of it when I didn’t know the full picture,” you said, kicking at the ground. “There’s always more secrets, more I didn’t know, Dean.”

“I told you the truth,” he said.

“Then why am I still finding stuff out like I had a police tail on me every night?” you asked. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the car. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter,” he said.

“Actually, it does. Now I knew I was safe back then. So what else are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“Dean.”

He wasn’t quick enough to make his face blank but maybe he wanted it that way, wanted you to know there was something he still wasn’t saying. He quickly turned his gaze hard though.

“You always gotta push, don’t you?” he said. “You push and push and push and push. You’re so fucking annoying sometimes. You can’t just let things be. You gotta dig and ask stupid questions and be the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met in my life. Why do you never, never, shut the fuck up? Please. Just shut up.”

“You know what? Don’t come back to the bar. Ever,” you said as you spun around. “I’m done. We’re done. Fuck you, Dean. Just stay the fuck away from me from now on.”

“How was work?” asked your dad when you came home an hour early. “Feeling alright?”

“I hate that fucking asshole!” you shouted, rubbing your hand over your face. “I should have never...fuck him. Don’t ever answer the door for him again.”

“Y/N-“

“I am done with Dean Winchester. Forever.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you said the next day, storming into Dean’s office as he ate some yogurt.

“Lunch?” he asked.

You slammed the parking ticket down on his desk, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“You pay that over at the front desk?” he asked again, looking you up and down. “Are you on something?”

“I am sick and tired of the police harassing me!” you shouted. Dean leaned forward in his chair and took the ticket, glancing at it.

“Nina. Can you come here a minute?” called Dean. You glared as a cop came in, looking at you wearily. “You write a parking ticket this morning?”

“She was double parked.”

“Double parked my ass,” you said.

“Miss. This is a police station,” she said.

“Oh, don’t go there with me honey,” you said.

“There,” said Dean, ripping it in half. “No ticket. Nina, try not to ticket people for being a little over the line.”

“Alright,” she said, staring at you.

“Back off,” you said. She put a hand on her hip and Dean stood up, grabbing your arm. “Hey!”

“I do not need a fist fight in my office,” he said, leading you out a side door and outside. You shrugged away from him, Dean taking a deep breath. “I didn’t put anyone up to it. Don’t go starting fights with cops.”

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone,” you said.

“Yet you’re the one…” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Go back in the station. Now.”

“No! I-“

“Get the fuck inside,” he said, grabbing your arm hard, practically shoving you back through the door. He locked it behind himself, barely giving you more than a quick glance.

But it was enough.

“You’re still protecting me, aren’t you,” you said.

“Yeah well, deal with it. I had a feeling shit would hit the fan and it’s hitting it,” he said, shoving you back towards the cell area. “Lock the door. It’s the only way in or out. Don’t open for anyone but me or Sammy. Call your dad and tell him Alpha Green two. He knows what it means.”

He left the room and you almost locked the door after him, his hand suddenly on it. He was holding something big and bulky out to you.

His thigh holster with the gun in it.

“Put it on. Point and shoot. Make sure the safety’s off. You got sixteen rounds. Don’t use it if you don’t gotta,” he said.

“Dean, what’s-” you got out before he was out the door. You locked it up after him and strapped the thing on your leg, shaking your head as you pulled out your phone.

“Hey, sweetie,” said your dad when he answered.

“Something weird is...I’m with Dean at the police station and he said to tell you Alpha Green two and I have no idea what is going on,” you said, the other end quiet. “Dad?”

“I’m not gonna see you for a long time, kiddo. I gotta go away for awhile. I want you to stick with Dean. He’ll keep you safe. I know you two got your issues but you’ll work them out,” he said.

“What is happening?” you asked.

“Alpha Green two means get out. Dean saw something he didn’t like so I gotta go,” he said.

“He gave me a gun,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to get out too then. They know if they grab you, then they get me,” he said.

“Dad-”

“Remember where I said I met your mom?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“October first. You meet me there at noon if it’s safe. That’s how I’ll know it’s safe to come back,” he said.

“Dad-”

“Do what Dean tells you and for the love of God stay with him,” he said. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said quietly. “Who’s here? That organization?”

“Worse. His brother. I gotta go. I’ll be with Sam. I’ll see you in October, kiddo. Love you,” he said.

“Love you t-” you heard before he hung up. “Too. What the fuck?”

“Y/N,” you heard on the other side of the door, Dean knocking lightly. “Open up. It’s me.”

You carefully undid the door, a backpack tossed in your face along with a police jacket.

“What-”

“No one saw you on the street thankfully. Your dad getting out of here?” he asked. You nodded, Dean glancing around. “I got Baby packed. Sam’ll try to help your dad get out of here as best he can. We gotta get you out of here and now.”

“Am I ever going to know anything real about you?” you asked. He stared at you blankly, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours.

“I kept lying about my job. Not about me,” he said. “I will explain everything later. For now-”

“Let’s get going then.”

“This jacket is nice and warm,” you said, curling up in the thing in Baby’s front seat, Dean humming as he rolled into hour nine of your impromptu road trip. “We gonna stop soon? I got to go to the bathroom.”

“Yeah. We’re almost there,” he said.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” you said.

“We’re almost there too,” he said. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the window again, trying not to think of what had happened to your dad or where he was. Dean was mum on everything until you were settled he said but you knew wherever it was you were going, you were going to have to lay low.

He pulled up to an old farm house near a field and nestled near some woods, driving down the dirt path for a moment before he put it in park.

“Where are we exactly?”

“Safest place I ever knew,” he said. He opened his door and got out. You followed his lead and stretched out, hearing some clanging going on in a nearby garage. It stopped quickly and a man walked out, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry I didn’t call. Sort of last minute.”

“You must be Y/N,” he said, looking you up and down, giving you a smirk. “He gave you a gun?”

“Who is he?” you asked Dean.

“Y/N, this is my dad, John,” he said. You turned your head a little wide eyed as he stepped over and gave you a big hug.

“Nice to finally meet Dean’s girlfriend in the flesh,” he said.

“Dad, we’re not…” said Dean.

“Oh,” said John. “Was that...okay, now I’m confused.”

“Welcome to the club,” you mumbled.

“We were. We broke it off when you know, her dad and family went into hiding,” said Dean.

“Okay?” said John.

“I didn’t know he was a cop for starters,” you said. His dad raised an eyebrow. “Then there’s all the lying and secrets and sounds like you do that with everybody, hm?”

“I thought you had to go to the bathroom,” said Dean.

“Go up through the back door, past the kitchen, door on the left,” said John.

“Thanks,” you said. You wrapped your jacket around yourself as you jogged up the back steps into the quiet house. The kitchen was sparse and half of it was ripped up. Half the house looked under construction in your opinion.

The bathroom looked like new sheetrock had been put up and needed to be painted but otherwise it looked brand new. You were quick to relieve yourself, voices coming into the house by the time you were exiting.

“He’s an idiot,” said John as he walked past you, going to the kitchen cupboard and pulling out a bottle of liquor.

“Where’s mom?” asked Dean.

“She and Jess went to the movies. Apparently I annoyed them today,” said John, taking a sip.

“Maybe if you finished working on the house they’d be less pissed,” said Dean.

“They got hands. They can pick up a hammer and get to work,” he said.

“Dad.”

“I know. It’s hard to renovate a whole house by yourself is all,” he said.

“Maybe Y/N can help with demo. She’s pretty pissed off lately,” said Dean.

“I can see why,” he said.

“You’re taking her side?”

“Sammy told Jess.”

“Sam and Jess are married. It’s different. He had permission. She was different,” said Dean.

“You still could have told-“

“I fucked up. I don’t need everyone to keep reminding me,” said Dean, dropping a bag by the stairs and going out the front, slamming the door shut after him.

“He probably didn’t need that,” said John.

“Can I have a sip of that?” you asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

“He didn’t,” said John, cracking up beside you a few hours later.

“He sure did,” you said, giggling as you passed the bottle back to him.

“Oh, that kid doesn’t know the first thing about being in a city,” he laughed, taking the last sip. “Shit. I think we’ve been cut off, kiddo.”

“Well you’re both drunk so it’s probably for the best,” said Dean as he stepped out the back door. “Mom and Jess are back. I told them you weren’t up for meeting any more new people today.”

“I think he’s pissed,” you laughed.

“You should have seen his face when he was three and-“

“Alright,” said Dean, leaning down and taking the gun from your holster. “Before you two get into real trouble, inside. Y/N, we got the air mattress in the guest room so get your tush up there.”

“I’m enjoying myself here just fine,” you said.

“Yeah. What are you? The fun police?” joked his dad.

“I’m tired. Please, just go inside for the night and sleep this off,” said Dean. “Both of you.”

“Alright,” said John. “No harm in helping her calm down.”

“I’d rather it have been done sober,” said Dean.

“Yeah, well. You can work on that tomorrow,” said John. “Come on. Better do as told.”

You grumbled as you stood up and went inside, the house quiet. Dean showed you upstairs, his dad staying down and heading down the hall where you assumed the master bedroom was. You trudged past an open room, a girl probably around your age laying on a bed, reading a book.

“Hey,” said Dean, pointing a finger at you. She lifted her head up. “This is Y/N. You know, don’t shoot her if you see her around. Drunk girl, this is Jess. Don’t shoot her if you see her around.”

“Always a joy, Dean,” said Jess. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a cop too,” you said.

“I’m a nursing student,” she said. “Or I was I should say.”

“Look. I brought you a friend so you can both hate me together,” said Dean.

“Shortie,” she mumbled, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Asshole,” he said, spinning you around. “Night Jess.”

“Night De,” she said.

“Sam says hey too,” said Dean.

“Just hey?” she asked.

“Yeah. Just hey,” said Dean, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out an envelope. He flicked it over to her, Jess smiling wide as she caught it. “Page three, whoo, Sammy. I thought the boy was innocent but boy was I wrong.”

“Goodnight Dean,” she said with a grin, tearing open the letter.

“Night Jess,” he said, pulling her door shut. “Okay. Let’s get you in bed.”

He showed you down the hall and into a room, nothing inside but two backpacks, a duffel and an air mattress with a blanket on top.

“Okay,” he said as you kicked off your shoes. You plopped down on the mattress, rolling to the left side. “Before you pass out completely on me, this backpack with the red tape on the strap? That’s your bag. If I ever tell you the furnace light is out, that means take the bag and get out of here. I don’t care how but you do it. If the furnace light is broken, that means ditch the bag and just go. You got that?”

“Talking about the furnace is bad. I got it,” you mumbled, tugging the blanket around yourself.

“You can change into something more comfortable,” he said.

“Like what,” you mumbled.

“Hold on,” he said. He went over to a closet and pulled out a box, digging through it a minute before pulling out a few things and tossing them to you. “It’s from when I was about your size. It should fit.”

You stared at him, Dean rolling his eyes.

“This is my grandparents house. It was in somebody else’s name and trust me, it’s safe,” he said.

“So this stuff is from when you were a teenager?”

“Yes. Bathroom is across the hall,” he said, leaving the room for a minute. You changed into the loose shorts and t shirt, smiling at the baseball camp shirt.

The door opened and he popped his head in, another bunch of blankets under his arm.

“Did you go to camp around here?” you asked.

“Yeah. For a summer. Sam and I stayed here. We’re both tired, we’ll talk in the morning,” he said. He took off his boots and jeans, shrugging out of his jacket and taking one of the blankets for himself, leaving the others on your side. He flicked off the light switch and lay down with a sigh, his back turning to you when you crawled under the blankets.

You stared at his stiff shoulders, Dean taking a few deep breaths.

“Thanks for the extra blankets,” you said quietly. He nodded, stilling after a moment.

You turned your own back to him, closing your eyes, already regretting the alcohol in your system.

“Is my dad dead?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Okay,” you whispered, a tiny shudder running through you.

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Do you want me to go?”

You didn’t say anything and for a moment, you thought he’d get up and leave. Then you felt him roll behind you, roll closer. You didn’t lift your head as you turned to face him, ducking your chin down and letting yourself bury your face in his chest.

“I know,” he said quietly, placing his arm over your back, holding you close. “I know.”

“I don’t know…” you mumbled, a shudder running through you.

“I got you. That’s all you need to worry about tonight, alright?” he said. “I got you.”

You nodded your head, fisting your hands in his shirt as you willed yourself to get some sleep.

_____

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

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