#also i just finished over the garden wall today and it will plague my mind for the next week

[p0pp3t]

[sp00kworm]

Iron Lake

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Pairing: Qene (Male God [Bird Creature]) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Wound Descriptions, Blood

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Ore was rich in the valleys once. The entire hillside was covered in small mine shafts for digging up iron ore for smelting in the iron works, and that lead to several settlement villages between the city and the ocean. Your family had lived on the final reaches of the valley, towards the sea, for many generations, until the collapse. The men worked as miners, and the women worked the farms. Your own family, however, had moved on long ago. When the iron ore ran dry, and the mine shafts began to collapse, the village was left to the farmers and creatures which plagued the woods and hills. You looked at your sturdy cottage and the barns surrounding it as you sat on top of the newly built dry-stone wall you had just finished. It had collapsed with a recent bull charge and you’d spent a long time building it back up higher so he couldn’t get at your cows. A few heifers were too young and now steered clear of the wall, wandering along the other side of the field. You didn’t blame them. The bull was a neighbour’s, and rarely did he have the beast under control. Smoking a pipe called you, but it was a habit that was best left alone living so rural. You patted your nearest cow and fed her a handful of weeds before taking your bucket and heading to your chickens, which were clucking around the few ewes you had.

 The chickens ran on small legs as you shook the feed bucket, and you grinned as you leaned over to toss them some food. The ewes were slower to move and trotted over as you headed to their small food trough and hay basket. You shovelled more hay in from under the shelter and locked the gate before filling their feed and water troughs. The chickens were back following you around as you tapped their own feed buckets again and herded them back into their coop. They happily ignored you closing the caging in favour of the food you had put in their own trough. Whistling, you took all the buckets and closed the gates to the fields, heading back towards the small storage and utility shed to put everything away. The wind rushed over the long grass at the top of the hill and you paused to look up as the sky rumbled with the beginnings of rain. Sure enough, as you looked to the herd, they were heading back to the shelter. There was rain on the way. You tutted and made sure to put everything away before rushing to cover the chickens and make sure the sheep had their own shelter with their raised bedded platform.

 As you finished checking on the cows, the heavens opened, and you rushed for your small porch, sprinting under the cover as the rain came lashing down, soaking your shirt and bottoms through. The cotton clung to you as you shuddered by the door, watching the grey clouds blur with falling water over the top of the mountain in the distance. It was colder now, and you opened your door to stoke the fire and dry your clothes. You grumpily tugged your wet clothing off and hung it in front of the fire before you rekindled the embers and wrapped yourself tightly in a heavy blanket of white wool. The rain thundered on the roof, and you warmed your toes before pulling on a small pair of moccasins and peering through the glass in your windows. The animals were huddled together out of the rain as it gave the grass and small crop garden you had a good soak. It was miserable. You perched yourself on the small table and watched the weather with a hum.

“And I had so much to do today too.” You lamented quietly.

 The rain was white noise after a while, and the clouds rolled over head, still full of rain when you peered back up at the sky. You jumped as a great screech sounded overhead, inhuman, furious and in pain. It sounded again with the thunderous boom of a weapon, and you jumped from the window at the flash of gun powder in the far distance, over the mountain top. Your home shook with another screeching wail as the flashes stopped and the clouds rolled again, the wind howling through the unsealed stone cracks in your cottage. There was another boom of thunder as the cries of the creature paused for a moment. You prayed they hadn’t just shot at a dragon. Dragons were harder than steel plating and bullets or canons did very little damage to their interlinked scales. Fury would follow an injured dragon, but there was no hiss and boom of burning flames. Another ear-piercing screech followed down the mountainside, as a great black figure soared into the clouds and disappeared overhead. It’s shadow hung over the top of the hill as it zipped down through the valley before it screeched again and plunged from the sky, spinning in a mass of glorious golden brown and tawny feathers before it plummeted into the muddy cow field in a mass of feathers, dirt and blood.

 The cows mooed violently before trotting out to investigate the lump, the younger females hanging back under the wooden shelter. You watched the feathers float from the sky, shellshocked, before you rushed for your damp clothing and pulled it all back on. You threw on your hooded cloak and rushed out into the rain and wind. The cows called as you rushed to the fence and thumped at their flanks harshly, batting their tongues away from the creature’s wounds. It hissed, feathers brushing upwards as you dared to touch its giant body. It was huge, easily over twelve feet long, the long tail feathers crumpled under its cut legs. It had a great talon missing from one of it’s feet, and blood thrummed from the wound. You rushed to its head.

“Oh, my Sun…” You cursed as you looked at the burning orange eyes that peaked out from the great, fluffy crown of feathers. A beak opened as it hissed again, another, weak scream of upset. A threat, you realised as it’s feet moved and talons slashed at the floor.

“Don’t!” You pushed it’s shoulder as the orange bled to black and it turned onto its other side, flopping over in its attempts to push itself back onto its feet.

 “You’re killing yourself!” You screamed at it as it flexed its wings and black blood spewed from its mouth. You gasped at the cavern in its side, bleeding black tar and red blood over its beautiful, soft feathers. It screeched again, madness taking over as it thrashed to get itself upright and managed, shaking on its swollen, bleeding foot. The wound to its torso was heavily bleeding, and blood poured with the stress and movement, revealing the two-inch diameter iron ball wedged in between its ribs.

“Stop!” You screeched again, putting your hands on its wings before two hard arms extended out of the feathery chest. The clawed hands snatched at you, lifting you high to its bleeding black eyes as you gasped. With a small scream, the creature reared its head back and paused as you covered its eyes, small hands encompassing its blackened gaze. Its wings sagged as it’s beak opened to let tar leak from its gullet.

 “You’re going to die if you don’t let me get that bullet out of you!” You shouted up at it, clinging to its face, “Let me help you, please.”

The bird-like creature sagged, its wounded feet giving in as it paused to retch blood up once more and placed you back on the floor with a croak. The croak bubbled with tar and blood as its feathers shifted and it looked up at your little cottage. The wind shifted and blew violently, soaking the both of you with more, icy rain.

“I will not fit.” It whispered deeply, as though its voice was being carried to your ears on the wind itself.

“You can…talk…” You commented, stunned for a moment as it opened its mouth, “There’s a barn to the back. I used to keep the horse in there, but its empty now.” You reasoned as you opened the gate and coaxed the bleeding beast through the rungs. It cried out as its claws got stuck in the cattle grating, the wound from the missing toe tearing and bleeding over the wooden slats. The creature followed, feathers dripping from its body in a bloody trail as it struggled behind you, croaking and wheezing as you heaved open the doors to the horse barn and opened the door to a stall.

 The creature flopped into the stall, its burning eyes dripping with tar as it wheezed, wings ruffling as it struggled to keep the gapping wound in its chest off the stone floor. You rushed to kick over a great barrel of sawdust to mop up the blood before disappearing back into the howling wind and rain to grab what little medical supplies you had. A crow squawked by your window as you rushed into the front door, his beady eye following you before it hopped into the house and cawed again, louder. Cursing, you grabbed your old sheets and shoved them into the large cooking pot with the rest of the water from the well. The fire was roaring, and they would soon be clean enough to wrap the wounds. The poultices were a little old, but they smelt fresh and clean, of mint and lavender, and you grabbed the jars and your needles and some fine thread. It would be a botch job at best, but it was all you could do for the creature. You also made sure to grab something for the pain, grabbing a bottle of dragon fire whiskey as you grappled the cooking pot of boiling sheets and shouldered the other supplies. The crow followed you out of the house again and cawed, but you paid it no mind, even as more small birds flocked with it under your porch and in the fields.

 The creature was wheezing against the floor, barely breathing, when you returned, and you cursed as its eye opened, devoid of any honey colour, just filled with black. Its eyes rolled and closed.

“Try and stay awake. Please. I need you awake to stop the bleeding.” You scrubbed your hands and hung the sheets to dry as you looked at his chest again, eyeing the iron ball wedged under his bottom rib, mashed in with broken feathers and splinters of stone. With a shaky hand, you took hold of your small set of forceps, usually used to help cows calf, and soaked them in the boiling water before you dared to ease them under the plumage and grip the bullet. The creature screamed but didn’t lash out, and so, you committed, heaving the bullet down, and out of its chest with a rush of tar like goo and blood. It croaked against the stone and you reached for the fresh water and salt to rinse the sharp pieces of feather and stone away before you plucked the broken feathers around the wound away and eyed the wound for any other artifacts. It was clean. You jumped as one of the creature’s leather skinned arms appeared from out of the feathers of its chest and reached for the large bottle of whiskey you had brought. It hissed and pulled the cork free with its beak before pouring the strong alcohol into its gullet, grumbling, and croaking after with the burn.

 “That much will knock you out good.” You promised as you stroked its feathery chest and pulled out your needle, sterilising it in the boiling water before you threaded it, knotted the end, and got to work, suturing the wound closed where you could, as tightly as you dared. The bird creatures’ skin was dark underneath its feathers, leathery to the touch and tanned. You closed the final part of the wound and tried not to slip too much as you knotted the end with blood slick fingers. The tar was gone, no longer leaking from its eyes and mouth. Quietly, you listened to it breathe, wheezing softly against the floor. You took hold of the mint poultice and applied a layer with honey over the wound to soothe the raw, sore skin. Wings shuffled as you reached to tear apart your sheets into large strips to wrap the wound. It cried as you returned and eased its chest up enough to reach around, duck under its arms and wrap the whole thing tightly. You pinned it before letting it rest as you cleaned and wrapped its foot, wondering if the toe would need cauterizing as you left it be, snoozing in an alcohol induced sleep. You made sure to pile hay around him for the night before you closed the doors tightly and looked at your cottage.

 The crow from before cawed again from your small porch, fluttering about the floor before it landed by your window and watched you as you hauled your supplies back inside.

“What’s brought you here?” You asked, “I don’t have any seeds for you!” You shouted as it followed you into the house and settled itself over the top of your fire, seated in a small handkerchief on your mantle place.

“Fine. Make yourself at home then.” You scoffed as you looked over at your cooking pot and poured the water out of the window. You were drenched through to the bone and you shuddered as you stoked the fire again and stripped off your clothing. You hung it by the fire and sniffled as you dried off and then wrapped yourself back in your large blanket, content to snuggle into your large armchair and warm your toes by the flames. It was soothing to hear the rain slow to a patter against your roof and the soft cawing of the crow nestled in front of you. Your eyes drooped as you snuggled into the blanket and forgot about the creature laid in your barn.

 A great squawk in your ear woke you up, and you jumped awake violently before the crow stomped over your lap and jumped up and down on the arm of your chair. You looked at it in confusion before pushing the blanket away and shuddering. It was cold. Using the blanket as a shawl, you stoked the fire again, throwing some more kindling and then logs into the embers to get it going as the crow fluttered into your kitchen and snapped at the crumbs on the side. You huffed and pulled out a small bag of sunflower seeds before you put a small handful in a bowl and watched the crow go to town.

“You’re a weird little thing.” You commented before going to get dressed in the small room you had to the left side of the cottage, leaving the crow to eat and hop around, so long as it didn’t decide that your floor was a good place to poop.

 The crow was still on the countertop when you returned, watching you through one, beady black eye, as you walked towards it. It flapped in protest as you stood in front of it but didn’t squawk or fly away. It stared back at you, its head turned and tilted up to see you properly.

“Are you here for the creature?” You asked, no louder than a whisper.

In response, the crow flapped again and gave one short, loud honk.

“Hm. I don’t think I trust you just yet.” You scolded gently before you offered your hand to the crow. The corvid pecked a finger before stepping onto your hand and skipping up your arm, hopping as it went along your sleeve, its beak holding itself up when it slipped against the cotton.

“Come on then. Let’s go and see how our house guest…well, our barn guest, is doing.” You tapped the crow’s beak and headed towards the door. You both looked up at the morning sun and smiled, thankful for the sunshine. The crow flapped again and spread its wings to soak in the rays before you turned to head around the back of the cottage where the barn was.

 The rain had washed away most of the blood, leaving clumps of muddy feathers around the rocks and fence posts as the evidence that the creature had passed through. You stepped over a puddle and heaved open the barn door. A great rumbling croak sounded as you stepped inside, leaving the door open a little to let the morning air in. The creature’s feathers dragged against the piles of hay and the stone floor, as it struggled to raise its head. When it managed to get high enough, one, burning orange eye peered over the top of the stall, eyeing you as you approached the wooden gate.

“Good morning.” You uttered as it flopped back against the floor with a sad, long croak. The crow on your shoulder squawked again before fluttering down to the great beast and moving from the bottom of its tail feathers to its hooked beak. It opened one giant eye and huffed before looking at you again and opening its mouth.

“Sustenance.” Its great voice rumbled before closing its eyes again, struggling to swallow as the crow pecked gently at the loose feathers on its face, pulling them free before it tapped its beak against the other and flew up to the side of the stall.

 “Food?” You asked, “Well, I have some but certainly not enough to feed you. You’re giant, if you don’t mind me saying and I don’t know if I could feed you.” You confessed, holding the top of the gate as the creature hissed lowly and dragged its great claws along the floor.

“I will hunt.” It rasped.

“NO!” You grabbed it’s shoulder, gently pulling it back down, “You’ll open all of my hard work. You, sit there. And you,” you pointed to the crow, “you’re coming with me.”

The crow nodded and fluttered out of the barn. Before you could turn to follow, the giant bird-creature rustled its feathers and its leathery, clawed hand appeared, holding your waist to keep you in place.

 “Thank…you.” It hissed, “I am… Qene.”

It’s name was hissed, a long pronunciation of E’s which made you wonder just of what race is was. If it was a fae, it would not have told you it’s true name, lest you bind it in contracts. You introduced yourself quietly and it nodded, slowly, exhausted still.

“I am…God of the Valley. Wind, weather and bird.” Qene rasped, “He who…controls the mountains.”

“A…God?” You whispered as the creature let go of your waist, “A god in my barn and…”

Qene huffed and collapsed again in his hay bedding.

“I’ve got questions but let me feed you first. What do you eat?” You asked.

Qene raised his beak from the hay to speak, his voice like a small thunderous rumble, “Meat. I hunt…deer and elk. Anything to then give back to the…” His eyes closed slowly, the orange disappearing behind his eyelid before he fell back asleep.

“I guess a chicken might have to do…or maybe I can get a deer from Thriskar.” You pondered as you followed the crow out of the barn and went for your bag and a bow.

 Thriskar scoffed at your request, “A deer? A whole one?” The orc sniffed before he carried on skinning the buck he had strung up outside his small home, “What the fuck do you need a whole…” he smirked then, suddenly, as though he had been told the funniest joke, “Do you have company over? Wanting to impress?”

With a snort, you were quick to flip your middle finger up at the orc, “Yeah, fuck you. I need it for pickling and smoking. I want to not live off my cows again this winter.”

“Well, you’re in luck then.” Thriskar commented, rolling his eyes as he wiped the blood from his hands and pointed to the young buck hanging in his shop, “I caught that yesterday. Should be drained enough for smoking now if you want it.”

 “How much?” You asked, sceptically.

Thriskar grinned as he tapped the counter in his shop, perching himself, leaned over the counter, before he tapped his lips, “A kiss and four bronze, or seven bronze if you’re feeling less generous.”

“You’re the worst.” You commented as you handed him the seven bronze coins, “I should be able to carry it before you offer that too.”

“Here.” Thriskar laughed as he pulled the creature’s pelt out and tied the deer in a sling like fashion around your back, “You should get it back now.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t make a habit of it okay? I won’t give you the skin for free in future!” he warned as he saw you out of the door and down the path back towards home.

 The crow squawked overhead, and you saw Thriskar look up and shake his head before the crow landed on your shoulder.

“Well done. Now he really will think I’m a witch or something.” You scolded the crow as it hopped from your right shoulder, over to your left.

“You don’t need me for that. He likes you enough to want a kiss, doesn’t he? Does that affection not prove anything?” The crow squawked.

You felt your back go cold, “How…can you…”

“Talk?” It asked, “I am…omnipresent within my children.”

“Qene?” You asked as the crow eyed you.

“Yes…” It rasped tiredly, “I wanted to ensure you would be safe.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s nothing but pesky fae and annoying goblins, and they know not to mess with me. I like salt, iron and flowers too much.” You smiled. The crow’s head turned again before it let out another squawk and shook its wings and head violently, as though it had been released from some kind of spell.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that was lots of fun, huh?” You asked as you stroked the crow’s head and carried on along the path.

 Home was a great greeting of farm animals. The chorus was loud and upset, as they had expected their food early in the morning and now it was almost midday. You heaved the deer off your back and onto the porch. The cows crowded the gate as you went to retrieve a hay bale with a pitchfork. There was a lot to tend to before you could give your guest the food he needed. The cows were happy for their filled hay and you were quick to give the sheep and chickens their food before you dragged the deer away from your little crow friend, and towards the large barn on your back. You opened the door and peered inside. Once again, Qene lifted his head, just high enough to see over the top of the stable door, his burning orange gaze looking directly at you.

“I’m back.” You smiled, “And I got you this!”

“Meat?” Qene droned over the top of the stable, “Deer…. No innards.”

“We don’t tend to eat the insides…the intestines are for sausages though.” You told him as you opened the door and laid the deer over the stone floor.

“Sausages?” Qene rasped, his head tilted as his feather’s rustled, and he pulled himself along the floor, his beak opening.

 Spit dripped from his beak as his tongue extended, pointed and tanned like his skin. He licked at his beak before he took a great chunk out of the hind of the deer.

“Thank you.” Qene rumbled as he threw his head back and swallowed the chunk of deer, “This…will help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as you reached to pluck one of his feathers from the floor, looking at the now dull brown colour. When it had been attached to his face, it was shiny, golden and beautiful.

Qene ripped more from the deer and noticed you spinning the crushed feather by its quill, “They do not live once they are detached…True power flows through them, but they cannot be removed with it forcefully.”

“What kind of power?” You asked as you sat by the stable door, “I’ve…Well, I guess you are a God.”

Qene scoffed, “It is why I took a bullet to the chest.”

“They’re after your feathers?”

“Yes. Fools that they are.” Qene snorted again over the carcass, “Even if they have no value when they are forcibly plucked.”

 You decided not to press the issue, and simply sat as Qene ate, intrigued by the way he plucked at the meat, tearing it all from the bones before smashing open the bones for the marrow inside, his tongue licking at the blood and goo before the bones were then crushed and eaten.

“We really should change your bandages.” You offered as the God finished crunching the brains inside the skull.

“There is no need.” Qene grumbled as he swallowed the last pieces of his meal, “This will be enough for me to heal fully.” His eye turned on you again, “And soon I will be out of your hair.”

“What do you mean you’re almost healed?” You scoffed, “Let me see.”

Qene chuffed and opened his bandages with a swipe of his claws, “See for yourself.”

You shuffled through the hay and looked at the exposed wound below his ribcage. Except, now it was no longer a gaping wound, it was a healing wound, scabbed over where you had stitched it, the flesh filling the line quickly, and moving by the second.

 “How is that happening?” You asked in fascination, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I am the God of this valley. God of the Iron Lake valley. I am not…held by your mortal deigns.” Qene rasped, his voice growing in strength like a thunderstorm now that he had eaten, “But I would…like some more of that Dragon Fire Whiskey, if you have anymore?”

You looked at his feet and noticed his toe had not grown back, but was quickly snapped from your revere as you smiled and laughed, “More whiskey? Its only just past midday but sure. I’ll go and get the rest of the bottle for you, since you’re a God and all that.” You turned to stand and opened the stall, “Does it even have an effect on you?”

The God huffed and opened his beak in something that looked like a smile, his claws tucked under his head and his wings blanketed over his body, “Not greatly, but it is strong, so I can feel the effects for a moment.”

“So, when you chugged it for the pain…”

“It did not help for a long time.” Qene confirmed, “But I am grateful for your help. Without you, I would have gone mad and destroyed much of this place in my agony.”

“Well, you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do after what other humans did to you. Now, let me get you that whiskey.”

 Qene’s feather’s rustled in the valley winds, and he raised his head as he stepped out of the barn, his claws dragging on the floor before he spread his wings and let the wind run through his feathers. A few final dead ones fluttered away on the wind, browning as they disappeared up the hills.

“It feels like an eon since I felt the wind.” Qene rumbled as he flapped his wings and stood tall to look over the fields and up to the mountain, “I will now no longer burden you.”

“I…I’m glad you’re well, but…” You looked at the mountain again, “Won’t they be waiting for you?”

“Waiting for me?” Qene rumbled, his head tilted to peer down at you, “They may be, but my home is my own…”

“Why not stay here?” You asked as the small crow cawed and landed on your shoulder, “They won’t look for you here.”

“And why would you want this?” he asked as he dipped his head, “I am not of your kind, nor am I a welcome guest. I fell into your home.”

“But you are also a welcome one now.” You smiled at him, “I don’t mind you being here. You even helped me get those hay bales out of the barn.”

Qene’s eyes looked to the mountain with longing, “My home…”

“You can go and see…but if you want to come back then…”

 Qene lowered his beak to your head, pressing the top to the top of your skull before he looked you in the eyes and licked at your cheek, “Silly human. I…” he rumbled, “I will see my home, but I will return…for visits or for…If my home is not inhabitable.”

You reached up to his face and carefully stroked along Qene’s feathered neck, the golden feathers soft and pretty, “Come back when you want.” You smiled, “Maybe you can replace the whiskey you drank, huh?”

Qene laughed, his beak open and eyes closed, “Perhaps…Or maybe I can bring you something better?”

“Something better?” You asked.

The God nodded his head, “I will bring you a feather, if I return, and weave it into your hair.”

“To what end? What does that mean?” You stroked his neck.

“That you are chosen by me, by the valley god…” he confessed, “That you will be my priestess.”

You laughed softly, “I don’t know about being a religious figure but…”

“You will be mine?” Qene rumbled, his wings flexing.

“Maybe I will, Qene.” You promised before the God flexed his wings and pounded them three times, lifting from the field and into the air.

 The crow on your shoulder rubbed its head under your chin, “I will be here. My eyes see everything.”

“I know, Qene. Good luck.” You whispered to the crow before the shadow in the clouds disappeared back towards the mountain.

 Weeks past with warm weather and pleasant breezes. The mountain was silent, looming in the distance over the valley, and you tended to your animals and small vegetable patch. Thriskar came for some milk and eggs, looking at the sudden brightness to your animals and farm.

“It is like a God has touched this place!” He commented over a cold glass of milk one day, crunching carrot sticks between his teeth as he looked at the farm. His comment made you wonder just where Qene was. Since he had left the farm had been brighter, fuller of life, but quiet and Qene had not spoken through your crow companion for a long time. You were beginning to think something had happened, and often you went to bed after leaving a bottle of whiskey on the porch. This night, you did the same, placing the bottle out on the porch with a small candle in a holder, before heading to bed.

 The next morning you opened the door and stood over a single, golden feather. The feather glowed in the early morning light, bright and brilliant, burning with power. The whiskey was uncorked, and the candle blown out. You rushed for both items, grabbing the feather, and clutching it close before you rounded the corner and thundered into the barn. Qene’s orange eye slowly peered over the top of the stall.

“Hello, little bird.” Qene rumbled before he pushed open the gate, “It has been a while.”

“Qene!” You rushed to the bird creature and hugged him around the neck.

Qene raised his neck and hung you before he gripped you around the waist and smiled, clucking softly with a purr before he placed you back on the floor, “I have missed you. My home is gone, destroyed and trapped. I…I searched for somewhere, but I have ended up back at your doorstep.”

“So…You’re here to stay?” You asked gently.

He nodded his head, “If I am welcome. I will make a home here and…I would like to know more about you.”

 You looked up at the eagle face. His eyes were covered by golden and brown feathers, and you reached up to push them away, staring at the orange eyes of the God.

“You were always welcome.” You cooed before kissing the top of his beak.

“Thank you, little bird.” Qene cooed back as his leathery skin rubbed against your own, “The whiskey was a treat.” he chuckled.

“You’re going to have to give me some way to buy more! It’s so expensive!” You scolded.

[whitexwingedxdoves]

a love like war | part one

Sequel to The Other Side 

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/her Warnings: Language, Violence Summary: Despite your best efforts you just cant seem to avoid Negan A/N: SHES HERE. IM EXCITED <3 Again all the thanks goes to @jinxeee​​ <3 Tags: @aubageddon91

“You belong to me” he whispered, catching you off guard and it showed “you always will” he added before you stepped away from the man, the confused look creasing your soft face as you reached for the door.

“Go to hell” you snapped before leaving the room, once you were outside you pressed yourself against the brick wall to catch your breath

You avoided the gardens like the plague after your interaction with Negan and it brought up some questions with Daryl, he’d grill you day after day, asking what was wrong until you had enough and told him everything. At first he was taken back by the assumption you and he were somewhat an item but he soon channelled that into anger, he hated the idea of you and Negan. He’d tell you, you deserved so much better than him and of course you’d agree. After that day, he promised to stay by you whenever you went out to the gardens so that Negan couldn’t corner you, and he thought he could get some revenge of his own by purposely flirting with you whenever the prisoner was watching. Of course his flirting was much more subtle than what you usually encountered, he’d pick you a fresh strawberry and tuck your hair behind your ear every so often but mostly he made you laugh to the point you’d forget that any one could be watching. You’d scold him when you’d get home at night but you’d never tell him you enjoyed knowing Negan would think of nothing else in his cell at night.

You felt confident walking through the gardens on your own today, you did your job checking up on people as you inspected the quality of the crops all while your face flushed red, attempting to avoid Negan’s stare. You left his section until last, thinking you could quickly get it done and leave before he had a chance to say anything to you but of course, that was too good to be true. Brandon stood over Negan as you approached but quickly dropped his weapon to his side as you did, he looked eager to ask you something “Im really sorry Y/N but I ain’t feeling all too good and there aint no one else I can ask'' You took a deep breath anticipating his question “Do you mind taking watch while I visit the doctor?” you cleared your throat before taking the spear he held in his hand from him, sending him a small smile and a nod.

“Sure” you watched as he hurried along to the infirmary, your heart dropping once you noticed you were now alone with the one man you didn’t want to be alone with.

You looked down at the man who was already staring back up at you with a wide smile, you rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the rest of the garden. “You know when I first saw you sat on that rock, covered in all that shit” he started, pulling at weeds from the ground before turning slightly to face you “I still though, my god is she beautiful” his tone made you snap back to his direction, scoffing at his words

“Did you think I was beautiful when you locked me up in your little torture chamber?” you spat back at the man, he held his hands up defensively, his smirk seemingly disappearing.

“I never apologised for that” his tone was much softer now but you still shook your head at him

“It’s a little late for apologies now, Negan,” the man sighed at your truth, and turned back to the weeds, pulling at the leaves while biting down on his bottom lip.

“I am. Sorry that is. If I had known- I can’t help but think how different everything would be” he sounded defeated which pulled at your heart a little until you realise who you were talking to.

“It’s gonna take more than a meaningless apology for me to forgive you” you didn’t mean for it to come out as a hiss but it did. Your eyes now scanning the area to track down someone to take over for you, Negan surprisingly stayed quiet as you did just that. You signalled for someone to come over before you looked back down at Negan. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for what you did to me” you whispered before handing the spear to the man who saved you from Negan duty.

-

The next day you gathered before the council, you stood by Daryl as you listened to Gabriel explain a situation with a hoard of walkers and his plan for getting rid/diverting it. He put together some teams of people and explained their jobs, Daryl and Michonne were to take  down any walker that strayed from the path and Aaron, Eugene and Rosita were to divert the crowd into the next town and attempt to trap them there. You embraced Michonne and Daryl as they left the room, wishing them luck and warning them to be safe, just as you were about to leave Gabriel called on you to stay behind for a moment.

You waited behind like he had asked, waving goodbye as people passed you. “Thank you for waiting” Now that the room had cleared, Gabriel took a few steps closer to you, you flashed him a smile and perched yourself on a desk that stood behind you.

“What can I do for you?” you questioned, oblivious to his intentions. He gave you a warm smile as he paced before you

“I want you out there too. I haven’t forgot that you were one of the best back at the sanctuary and think its time we put our skills to good use!” you couldn’t disagree with him, you pushed your lips together as you nodded at his words, waiting for further instructions. “I want you – I want you to go out there and keep the walkers on the right path” you cocked a brow at the man, you figured Daryl and Michonne already had that covered but he seemed convinced they may need extra help. “I also would like for you to take Negan with you”

You wondered if you had heard him correctly as you pushed yourself away from the desk “I'm sorry? You want me to take who?” You scoffed at the man when he repeated the prisoners name, shaking your head at his suggestion. “The man who left me in a room to die, that Negan?” your words tasted a little salty as you questioned the priest,  his head hung low as he took a deep breath.

“I see how he acts when you’re around. I have faith he will keep you safe!” you rolled your eyes at his words, chewing on the corner of your mouth as you thought of all the possibilities of being left alone out there with Negan “He’s a good fighter, we need that!” He added, walking closer to you before placing a hand on your shoulder, you avoided his stare as you looked down at your feet. “We can’t let anything bad happen to you but Negan? He’s a life I’m willing to risk for the safety of the community” Eventually he broke you down enough to get you to agree with his ridiculous plan. Before you even left the gates, you warned Negan not to speak a word to you, threatening his life if he even breathed in your direction and off you went, leading the man to your station.

-

Negan seemed to keep to his promise and not a word was spoken during your time travelling, when you reached your spot there were already a couple of stray walkers roaming around. Reluctantly you handed Negan a knife and watched him run off to kill the walkers, you offered no help as you stood back and watched him take down each walker, he barely had time to rest when the next set came limping over to him. You decided to sit down in the grass, drinking out of your canteen ignoring his struggles. By this point he must have killed over 20 of those things, he was panting and sweating yet you did nothing to resolve his exhaustion. It felt like it was the perfect display of karma, like the world had finally given you what you had been asking for, for years. The walkie on your hip started to buzz before Rosita’s voice spilled through the speakers notifying you that their plan worked and they would see you all back at Alexandria, Michonne’s was next claiming that she and Daryl didn’t have a lot of strays and they were ready to head home. You thought it was best you didn’t reply, none of them actually knew you were out there and you didn’t want them to panic.

You looked up at Negan, he had a couple walkers on him but you figured after they had gone, you’d be fine to head home too. You picked yourself up and brushed off any dirt that may have collected over time and turned on your heels to get the car started. What you didn’t expect was the dead that seemed right on your tail, You grappled with the creature before it took you down. You managed to keep it at arms length but you knew if you reached for your knife it would get you, you called out for help as you struggled to hold its weight. It felt like you were under the dead for a while, the feeling far too familiar as it snapped its jaws at you, suddenly the snapping stopped and the body became limp over the top of you, allowing you to throw it off to the side.

A hand reached out for you to grab and you did, a little too hazy to realise who’s hand it was. Once you were on your feet, your gaze met Negan’s and you allowed a small sigh to pass your lips “Thanks” you whispered, brushing off your clothes “you know if you’d have left me to die, you’d be free right now” you added, disguising your grateful words.

“Na, wouldn't be worth it” you cocked your brow at the man now you had finished cleaning your clothes, he shrugged at you a small smirk gracing his features, his tongue caressing his bottom lip. “the five minutes a day I get to see you, is worth way more than freedom”

[expensiveglasses]

Charming Chapter 5

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 6253

Warnings: Brief mention of the evil queen wanting Snow’s heart. Future warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described. Chapters will be noted when these things take place. 

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** Jungkook’s P.O.V **

“Your highness.”

The sun had risen only an hour before. The prince was expected at breakfast in 30 minutes but the fresh air from outside the castle walls was too alluring a prospect. 

Jungkook turned from his place on the balcony to survey the servant behind him. “His majesty the king wishes to have a conference with you.”

“Is he here now?” Jungkook asked, adjusting the sleeve of his tunic.

“Yes, your highness.”

“Very well.” Said Jungkook, nodding and moving towards the entrance of his balcony as the servant opened the door to his bedroom, allowing the king in before he exited himself. 

Jungkook watched as his father moved about his room, running his fingers across old tapestries as he walked. “I remember when you were a boy, before your mother died, when we first gave you this room. You immediately broke the fine washing basin your mother and I had acquired for you from Duchy of Savoy on one of our trips.”

“I remember.” Jungkook smiled, fingers sliding across the stone railing at his side. “Mother was extremely cross with me, but when I began to cry, she forgave me.”

“Always a gentle woman.” The king replied with a soft smile. He moved towards where Jungkook still stood at the balcony. “Had she still been alive, she would have known what to do with you, how to raise you far better than I knew how. She was very creative, always had ideas.”

“I think I’ve turned out OK.” The prince replied softly and the king nodded, sighing. His fingers tapped absently across the sheep’s skin draped over one of Jungkook’s chairs. 

“I believe so, though not due to my own merits. That school taught you everything I failed to.” The king bemoaned. “I just didn’t know what to do with you. I failed you as a child but I would like to think I’ve grown better since then.”

“I believe we both have.” Jungkook said. 

The king nodded, fastening his hands behind his back. “You have been decidedly absent since you returned.” He paused at Jungkook’s look of surprise, “You thought I wouldn’t notice? Where have you been?”

Of course his father would notice his absence; he was meant to be training alongside him. There was only so much a person could disappear before being missed. Shame colored the prince’s cheeks as he gripped the balustrade railing tighter. 

“I’ve been taking walks. To clear my head.” He said carefully. The king seemed unconvinced so he pressed on. “It’s a lot of pressure, there is so much to remember. I’ve just been trying to take it all in.”

“In peasant clothing?”

Jungkook paused, clearing his throat. Someone saw him. Why was he surprised? “I felt it would be better to blend in. I’ve been wanting to get to know the village and the people. I want to be an effective leader, father, and I believe that requires me to know the people’s problems.”

The king paused a moment, hands still tucked behind his back as he crossed the room to look out the window. Jungkook leaned against the balcony railing.

 “Do you think me an ineffective leader?” He inquired.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he shook his head, standing straight. “No, of course not! That was not what I meant to insinuate. Only that I have new ideas and thought that knowing the people better would help me in that course.”

“And you felt it best to dress as a pauper and wander the streets of the village in order to do so?” The king asked, turning to survey his son. 

Jungkook floundered for words. “I was unaware that, that was considered an evil.”

“Only when you lie.” The king frowned, eyes narrowing. “You continue to do so now. I had to find out from servants that you were leaving the castle dressed like one of them when you were meant to be studying and now, I come to find out you’ve been seen with a girl that is not your betrothed, and a commoner no less. Who is she?”

The prince flushed, turning away from the king to look over the kingdom. “No one you need to concern yourself with, father.”

The king spluttered angrily, “what has gotten into you? Clearly, I have failed you again. I thought you were ready to come home. Perhaps I’ve given you too much freedom.”

Jungkook sighed, “Father, please. I’m just asking you to not worry about that girl. She’s a friend.”

“I don’t care who she is; you will do your duty, Jungkook. To your country and to your king.”

“I don’t understand what my duty has to do with whom I choose to marry or spend my time with, father. Why can I not choose this for myself, so long as I fulfill my promises to my kingdom?”

“You said she was just a friend.” The king frowned.

“I’m speaking in hypotheticals.” Jungkook replied flippantly, turning to look back out over the balcony.

“You already know your answer; it is the way of things. Stop testing my patience.” The king sighed, rubbing his forehead before beckoning Jungkook to sit down. The prince moved slowly to take a seat on the end of his bed and his father folded his hands behind his back once more. “You are my only son, my only heir. I am concerned for the future of this kingdom. After your mother passed, I’ve had to shoulder the burden of not only the kingdom, but raising you to be the type of man that our people deserve. I’m not going to be disappointed, am I?”

Jungkook frowned. He knew his father’s tricks and they weren’t fair, but he understood them. He knew he wanted Jungkook to be happy but his duty to the kingdom had to be paramount and a princess for a wife was what made the most sense to him.

“No, you won’t.” Jungkook replied softly.

“Good. I expect you to learn to be the king this kingdom needs. Know your place in this world, my son. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He left in a hurry, cloak billowing behind him. . . **Y/N’s p.o.v**

Midsummer had arrived and had left you dirty and hot by the time you’d finished your chores. Stepping inside your home, you moved to the water basin by your bedroom, grabbing the cloth inside and scrubbing at your face. You had just enough time to make your way to the river before the sun began to set and you intended to make good use of that light.

You rushed from the house and into the forest. The rivers basin started high in the mountains, but not far from the house was a water fall that met a lake and funneled into the river that fed your village. Sometimes, on days like today, you would wash there.

It was quiet and most importantly, it was private. The sound of the waterfall greeted you as you stepped into the clearing and you moved towards a moss-covered rock, removing your boots and quickly stripping down.

The sun was setting fast and though the dwarf’s cottage was nearby, you didn’t fancy trying to find your way in the dark. You scrubbed yourself quickly, shivering from the chill of the water. The sun had warmed it on its descent into the forest, but it was still Alpen water and made your skin prickle uncomfortably.

After quickly redressing, you made your way to the cottage to find Snow inside cutting potatoes for a stew. “Good evening,” you greeted, stepping into the cottage, warmed by the fire in the kitchen hearth. “The dwarfs are not home yet?”

“Hello!” Snow beamed, beckoning you closer. “They’ve not arrived yet, which is good. We’ve got time to get dinner prepared. I cannot even imagine how they ate before we arrived to help.”

You smiled, moving to grab the ingredients Snow had set aside for bread. “Certainly not as well as now, though Bashful does make some very fine meals.”

A knock at the door roused your attention and you moved towards it, pushing open to find the face of the prince. He seemed tired and distracted but he greeted you both with a smile and a soft hello.

“Good evening, Jungkook.” You smiled, closing the door behind him as he entered. “I was not sure you would make it today. I was just starting with the bread now; would you like to help?”

He nodded, moving to the table where you’d spread the ingredients and you began to prepare in silence. Snow distracted herself with cutting carrots, humming softly a tune that felt familiar and you watched as Jungkook focused on kneading the dough you’d given to him.

“You seem out of spirits, this evening.” You commented softly.

Jungkook’s head bounced up as though surprised by the sound of your voice. You raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded, flushing and returning to his task. “I apologize. I just have some things on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?” You asked carefully.

He looked back up at you, features softening into a smile. “I thank you, but no. Unfortunately, it is something that must plague my mind alone.” You nodded, allowing silence to overtake you once more. Usually, the prince was lively with conversation, coaxing you from your own shell. Today it seemed that the tables were turned.

“Are you well?” He inquired softly and you looked up at him, nodding.

“Yes, thank you. I spent most of the day helping my mother in the garden. There is still time before we can harvest anything, but it is fulfilling work.”

“What do you grow in your garden?”

“Usually we grow things like potatoes, beans, and onions. My mother makes a lot of pottage, although these days because of your generous gifts, we’ve been able to enjoy stews. Thank you again for your kindness, I hope you know it is very much appreciated.”

“It is nothing that you do not deserve.” He said softly, shaping the dough like you’d shown him and cutting diagonal lines across the top. You flushed warm at his words, shaking your head as you placed the two loaves on the bread peel and moving them towards the oven.

“Would you like help, Snow?” You inquired as you moved towards where she stood in the kitchen, stirring the stew gently.

It was fragrant now; the smell of garlic and rosemary wafting through the small cottage and you took a deep, steadying breath in. Growing up, you rarely had the pleasure of such smells and tastes. Meat was expensive and the animals you did keep were more valuable alive than dead. If a chicken died, it would be utilized, but otherwise bread and porridge was the staple of your diet.

The river had sometimes provided fish, but your kingdom was far from the sea and that was often not available to you either. The first time you’d tasted meat was a gift from the king to your father. 1 pound of venison had been provided to your family when you were only 9 years old. 

Your mother hadn’t known what to do with it, so she’d boiled it plain and you’d eaten it with a potato at its side. It was a moment you’d never forget, though. A small glimpse into the life of the other side. You couldn’t have imagined a finer meal than that at the time.

“The only thing I need is for you to sit and enjoy yourself. Now that the bread is baking, we just need to wait. I am very grateful for your help these last few days. The company of another woman is invaluable, I have found.” She moved to stand across from you at the counter. “I am often alone in this cottage, and when the dwarfs are here, they speak mainly of the mines, which I find myself ill equipped to add comment to.”

You chuckled, sitting in a chair by the table. “They do love conversation of the mines. Even when I was a child and my mother would bring me; that was often a topic of great interest for them. I wonder that they have not found anything else to discuss.”

“When Jungkook and I were children at Hallen des Efeus, we would often talk of the same sorts of things. Things that don’t bear repeating; like our first fight. Do you remember that, Jungkook?”

“Yes, of course.” Jungkook smiled.

“You were so cross with me.” Snow pouted over at him and he chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“You scolded me like a mother would her child!” He chided and she frowned, delicate hands moving to her hips.

“Well, you were behaving like a child, what was I to do?” Snow asked, the corner of her lips turning up with a smile.

“I was a child.” Jungkook insisted, pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

“You were 13, that’s hardly a child.” Snow tutted, turning to look at you. “So, you see, a woman’s company is a lovely thing to have. Yours is especially nice, don’t you agree, Jungkook?”

The prince’s blush deepened and you could feel your own face heating with embarrassment. Snow smiled coyly at you before turning back to the fire, stirring the soup once more.

“Of course, you’re both invaluable friends to me.” He said softly.

Just then the dwarfs returned, boisterous in their greetings as they dropped hammers and pickaxes by the door. “You’ve come again!” Sneezy cried happily, coming to pat you on the shoulder.

“Of course.” You smiled, watching Dopey kick his shoes off sloppily at the mouth of the doorway.

“Don’t you ever tire of us?” Grumpy muttered, sitting down at the table and combing his fingers through his long grey beard.

“Never!” you insisted, coming to stand beside him. “Especially not of you, Grumpy.” He grumbled loudly for your benefit, but you could see the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth. “Will you all play for us tonight? Doc, I would love to hear you play the mandolin again!”

Doc smiled, patting at his stomach as he came to stand behind his own chair. “For you, dear, anything. I request a dance, though. Nothing is as lovely as song and dance together.”

Normally you loved to dance while they played, but with the prince as a witness you suddenly felt stricken. You opened your mouth to excuse yourself but before you could, Snow was clapping excitedly and you turned to look at her.

“Oh, please let us dance!” She cried happily, rushing over to you to take your hands in her own. “I’ve not danced in so long.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any serious dancing, only the kind of my village.” You admitted. The thought of dancing alongside her was equally daunting, no doubt with years of instruction under her belt. You felt ill equipped to even try.

“Then you shall be my teacher! I would love to learn the dances of your village.”

You turned to search for Jungkook, as though a pleading look might save you, but he simply smiled his encouragement. “Very well.” You replied timidly, “but after dinner!”

Time marched quickly on, as it tends to do when one is nervous, and once all the dishes were left to soak in warm water, the dwarfs retreated to grab their instruments. Grumpy and Doc both returned with their mandolins, Sneezy with his fiddle, and Sleepy with his pipe. The rest of you cleared the table and chairs from the center of the room and prepared to dance.

“Teach us the dance first and we shall copy!” Snow smiled, ushering you into the center and you cleared your throat, fingers digging into the skirts of your dress.

“First, you extend your foot like this, then you do a small jump, spin and clap.” You said softly, demonstrating the moves slowly so that Snow and Jungkook could follow your lead. None of the moves were particularly difficult, though you were sure this style of dancing was foreign to them.

When the dwarfs began to play, you and Happy demonstrated the dance in full. The music was jolly, the room quickly filling with laughter and clapping as you danced, allowing the high-pitched trill of the fiddle to guide you through the room.

The dwarfs stomped their feet loudly on the floor as you twirled through the motions of the dance with a laugh, closing your eyes to feel the quick tempo-ed rhythm. Happy grabbed your hands, swinging you in a circle around the room and you let out a delighted squeal as your vision blurred.

There was nothing quite like the rush of a dance; it always left you feeling light and free. You glanced towards Snow and Jungkook as the song slowly came to a close, curtsying for effect before looking back up.

The intensity of the prince’s gaze left you breathless; dark eyes following your movement as Snow clapped happily, rushing to your side and you quickly tore your eyes away from him.

“That looked like such fun. Let’s try, Jungkook!” She called.

He nodded, moving into the center of the circle and the music began again as you taught your friends the dance more earnestly. Happy, Dopey, and Bashful all moved along with you, clapping loudly as the loud stomping of their boots enhanced the mood of the room.

By the time Snow and Jungkook had learned the dance, the prince finally had a smile on his face. So serious and gloomy all night, he now moved gleefully, dancing and clapping as the song was reaching its crescendo. Both Happy and Dopey created a tunnel with their arms, Bashful taking Snow by the hands and bouncing through along with the tempo.

They called for you to join and Jungkook instantly reached out, grabbing your hands in his own and bouncing towards the bridge of their arms. You were surprised by his enthusiasm, but pleased all the same. His hands were warm around yours, leaving you feeling warm and tingly.

When the time came to return home, the prince insisted on walking you. It was dark enough to require a torch, which Doc lit for you at the hearth before wishing you both a safe trip home.

The forest was alive with activity so late at night. Crickets chirping and the business of animals who slept during the day. You walked in silence for a period of time, until the forest began to thin at the entrance. “I’m so glad that you could come tonight. Dancing always helps me to forget about the cares of the world, at least for a moment.”

Jungkook smiled softly, holding the torch carefully in front of the two of you. “Thank you. I’m glad I could come as well. It was nice to spend time with you again; I’m not always sure if I’ll be able to return.”

The silence was heavy at his admission, but you took it as an opportunity to navigate carefully from the opening of the forest and out onto the dirt pathway. You stared up at the castle, darkness shrouding it in shadow. “I should really be walking you home.” You said, turning to look at him. “What is a peasant to a prince?”

“Nonsense.” Jungkook replied sharply. Your eyes flicked to his as his features softened. “You are just as worthy of protection as I am, Y/N. Perhaps more so. You are…you are very important to me.” He murmured, staring down at the road.

You felt like you’d been doused in flames at the admission, but he quickly cleared his throat, motioning with his hand to continue walking. He moved beside you as you walked along the dirt path towards your home. “My father scolded me today.” He admitted and you turned to look at him in surprise.

“For what?” You asked gently and he sighed, hand sliding into the pocket against his thigh after switching the torch to the other.

“A multitude of reasons. For being so absent recently, because he thinks I’m not taking my role as seriously as I should, because…because we’ve been seen together.” He finally said.

You felt like the air had been siphoned from your lungs. You’d been seen together? By whom and when? You’d been so careful recently; you couldn’t even imagine who in the kingdom would have seen you and recognized him.

“Jungkook, I’m so sorry!” You said, attempting to stop, but his hand placed gently at your elbow coaxed you into movement once more. “I had no idea anyone in the village had even recognized you.”

He smiled, ruefully, shaking his head. “I don’t know exactly who saw us, Y/N, but it was a servant in the castle. Again, I was an unpleasant child…not everyone likes me. I have much to repent of.”

“But you’ve changed!” You said heatedly. The idea of someone doing something so juvenile was astonishing. He had changed, you’d been witness to it over the last six weeks. You could no longer associate that young boy with the man now before you; they were completely different.

His fingers slipped away from your elbow, but not before leaving a soft trace against the skin of your forearm and your skin prickled with electricity.

 Maddening in his temptation, you looked away from him quickly as he swept dark hair from his eyes.

“Yes, I have changed, and I will prove that. Never fear. My father was unhappy, though. He insisted I start behaving like a king and insinuated that I not fraternize anymore.”

You’d reached the gate of your home where you paused; not wanting to rouse your parents before the prince could leave. You didn’t need anyone else to see him, especially not your father.

“So, then I suppose you mean to cut ties?” You questioned in a hushed voice. The thought of never being with him again left your chest aching, lungs burning in an effort to keep the emotion at bay.

“Only that we will have to be cleverer in our disguises.” The prince grinned and you looked up at him with a smile.

“Going against your father’s wishes? I supposed there is still some of that naughty little boy left in you.” You teased.

“As I said before, you are very important to me. I think the risk is worth it.” Once again you were left breathless, reeling from his declaration as he reached for your hand. Bringing this to his lips, he left a small kiss in the center as he gazed down at you, eyes dancing in the light of the torch. “Good night, Y/N. Sleep well.” . . The square had filled with life by the time you’d weaved your way towards the bakery. Your mother had sent you for bread, but it was also an opportunity to stop and talk to your friend.

Else stood by the front of the shop, batting her eyelashes prettily at customers and encouraging them to buy a loaf. She spotted you from across the square, smile slipping from her face, and she turned to enter the shop quickly.

You paused a moment to ponder the strange behavior before resuming your walk to the bakery. You made it to the window just in time to hear Else’s father scolding her and insisting she return outside. Else moved stiffly towards the door, frown etched onto her lips and nose upturned as she moved to stand away from you.

“Is something the matter?” you asked, watching as she pointedly ignored you and called to another villager passing by.

“Would you be interested in rolls, ma’am?” she called at the harried looking woman who was wrangling two small children by her sides, a basket on her arm and their little fingers digging into the pockets of her apron. “They’re just come out and are lovely and warm.”

“No thank you, dear. I’ve made bread myself this morning.”

They disappeared into the throng of people before you moved from beside the window to talk to your friend. “Are you upset with me?” You inquired.

Else huffed, gaze shifting away from you. “If you should have to ask, then I find myself disappointed.” She paused for a long moment while you thought. You could not come up with an instance recently in which you’d made her upset and you turned to tell her so just when she spoke once more. “Where have you been? I’ve not seen you in what feels like forever.”

Time spent divided between morning chores and the prince had occupied so much of your time that you’d not had enough to spare for Else or Peter. Peter felt less neglected, you supposed, since he worked daily with your father from the comforts of your home. Else, though, had not seen you since the night of the prince’s ball.

“I did not realize it had been so long.” You admitted, “I apologize that I’ve neglected you; I’ve been busy recently.”

“Doing what?” She sniffed, still keeping her eyes dutifully away from you as she beckoned more people into the bakery.

“Well, I’ve met with my friend Jungkook a few days this week.” You started and she turned to look at you incredulously.

“The man from the other village?” She asked and you nodded. “You said he’d returned home.”

“Ah.” You cleared your throat. You’d not remembered saying that, but now that she mentioned it, you weren’t quite sure what to offer in return. “I…said that more for Peter’s benefit.”

“Why?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed before suddenly becoming animated, turning her whole body to face yours in excitement. “Does Jungkook court you?”

“What?” You asked, eyes widening. “No, of course not.”

Else deflated, frown returning to her pretty face. “Then why spend time with him? Y/N, your future is all but spoken for with Peter, it would be a good living. Why threaten that by spending time with another man who does not court you?”

“Don’t worry about Jungkook.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I want to apologize for leaving you neglected; that was not my intention. I promise to spend more time with you. Tonight is the village celebration; will you be there?”

“Of course.” She replied with a nod, “I’m never one to turn down a party.”

“Then we shall spend the whole night together, I promise!”

She looked like she wanted to refuse you, stew in her frustration a little longer, but she sighed, nodding. “Very well.” She accepted begrudgingly.

“Can I buy some bread while I’m here?” You said and she smiled, leading you back to the window of the bakery. “My mother requires one loaf.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s for your mother.” Else mused. . . In the evening, once the sun had begun to set, you made your way with your father and mother towards the village center, carrying a pot with a stew your mother had made with some of the venison from the prince.

You could only imagine the shock of those who would try it. Most in the village had never had the opportunity to try this type of meat. Sometimes rabbit, but never venison.

The village was already lively with music and dancing, candles lit and circling the festivities. Peter’s family was nearby, Peter himself staring down at the food wistfully. Else was in the group dancing, stomping her feet loudly along with the fiddle and laughing as she spun in a circle with her mother.

Your mother took the pot from you, ushering you towards your friend and you rushed off, allowing Else to pull you into the dance. The musicians hollered loudly, feet pounding in quicker succession as the music picked up pace. Peter came to join the two of you, shouting along with the crowd as he moved.

Once you’d tired yourselves out, the three of you went to go sit with a bowl of your mothers stew. The nearby fountain had some space so you moved towards it, sitting along the stone, still warm from the sun.

“What is in this?” Else asked, eating happily and you looked over as she spooned some of the broth into her mouth.

“Potatoes, carrots, cabbage, garlic, rosemary, I think, and some venison. Those are the only things I know for sure. I had to come get the bread while my mother was preparing it.”

“Venison?” Else asked in surprise, nearly dropping her spoon into her bowl. “How did you come to get venison?”

“The prince sent it to our family.” You said softly, staring down into your bowl and using your spoon to cut into a potato. “I think as a thank you for preparing his clothing for the ball.”

“That’s very generous of him.” Peter commented lightly, but his expression was pinched and you weren’t quite sure if he really felt it was generous at all. “Does he send gifts often?”

You looked over at him, watching as he pushed his spoon through the stew, feigned disinterest masking his features. “Sometimes.” You shrugged, “not terribly often. He’s a prince after all, he has far more important things to do than send food to his tailor.”

“Does he send them to your father or to you?” Peter asked, looking up at you and you tried not to show your surprise.

“What business would the prince have sending me venison? I am neither the tailor nor the woman of the house.”

“You’re asking very strange questions, Peter.” Else said, dipping bread into the dregs of her soup.

Peter’s expression loosened, a small laugh erupting from his chest. “Yes, you’re right. I’m only teasing, of course.”

Only, he certainly looked like he was not teasing, despite the airy way in which he dismissed the topic. Else dominated the conversation for the next half hour, though your mind was distracted with unease. You’d been very careful not to be seen by your friends or the villagers with the prince over the last few weeks, though the majority of them didn’t know his face.

You wondered absently if Peter would talk to your father soon. His discomfort at the idea of the prince sending anything to you left you feeling somewhere between baffled and concerned. You didn’t feel ready to move forward with him yet…especially not now that you’d discovered your own blooming feelings for Jungkook.

Then again, no time was ideal in cases such as these.

“Alaric has spoken with my father.” Else said suddenly and your attention was quickly pulled back to the conversation.

“He has expressed his desire to court you?” You asked excitedly, placing your empty bowl beside you.

Else shook her head no and your shoulders sunk in dismay. “No, actually, he has asked for my father’s permission to have my hand. We are to be married in the morning.”

“What?!” You squawked loudly and Else shushed you with a blush across her cheeks.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She complained as both you and Peter leaned in closer to hear her. “Yes, you heard me correctly. He sought my hand in marriage and my father gave him permission. We are to be married in the morning.” She said it with all the air of someone who was shy at the admission but you could see the pleased look in her eyes, the small smile tucked in the corner of her mouth.

She looked happy. Though she’d never said it out loud, you knew she liked Alaric more than all the other young men in the village. He was kind, jolly, and hardworking. You couldn’t imagine a better man for your best friend.

“I’m very happy for you.” You smiled, reaching for her hand and squeezing. “We are invited, are we not?”

“Of course.” Else nodded, looking between both you and Peter. “If you’re not there I’ll be very cross with both of you.”

“You should have told me sooner; I could have made you a pretty dress!” Peter complained.

Else tutted, brushing dark strands of hair from her face. “With what fabric?”

Peter shrugged bashfully. “I would have found something.” He mumbled.

“Do you remember when we were children?” You asked suddenly, both of your friend’s eyes darting to look at you. “We would lay out in the fields during spring, picking daisies to make jewelry, and pretend we lived in a fairytale.”

“Yes, of course.” Else said, “Those are some of my favorite memories.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back?” You ventured on, staring up at the stars. They were bright this evening, slightly obstructed by the roofs of the buildings. The view from your family’s small garden was much more beautiful. The thought suddenly made you wish you were back there, laying in the sunbaked grass by the walls of your cottage.

“What has brought this on?” Peter questioned.

“Nothing in particular, I suppose I’m just feeling sentimental. Things were simpler when we were children. I miss that.”

The musicians started a new song, just as lively and happy as the others and it made you feel strange to be so melancholy at such an occasion.

“Of course, I miss it in ways.” Else admitted. “We had nothing to vex us but the occasional scolding from our parents. I was an ugly little thing, though. I don’t miss that at all.” Her nose wrinkled at the thought and you chuckled, rolling your eyes.  

“Be serious.” You chastised and she smiled.

“I am being serious. I was dreadfully plain and I love the attention being beautiful has brought me. Besides, I’m to be a married woman tomorrow, I feel nothing but happiness at the prospect. If I went back in time, I wouldn’t have that.”

“I suppose that is what makes me reminisce. Marriage is…it’s scary, don’t you think? I don’t feel ready.” You said it softly with eyes still trained on the sky, though you could see Peter’s shoulders stiffen from your peripheral.

“Marriage doesn’t have to be scary, if you marry someone who loves you dearly.” He said gently. Peter was a good man; perhaps better than you deserved. Especially since your heart pined for another who was already destined for someone else. And Peter loved you. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

“Yes,” you admitted with a whisper, “but shouldn’t I love him too?”

The voices of your friends quieted as the music and cheers of the villagers swelled. “I suppose you should.” Peter eventually acquiesced. “Couldn’t you learn to love someone, though?”

“Perhaps,” you nodded, “but how long would that take? One year? Five? 20? My whole life?”

You left the question as it was; hanging heavy in the air. The answer to your question was that there was no answer. You’d spent your whole life with Peter and still didn’t love him the way he loved you. You didn’t think you ever would, though sometimes you felt it would make things much easier.

To have your heart’s desire…well, it would never happen so what was the point in dwelling there? It was a tree that would bear no fruit, but still, trying to convince the heart otherwise was near impossible.

“Come, let’s not talk of such things.” Else said, standing quickly and pulling you to your feet. “Let’s dance. You too Peter! I don’t want any heavy feelings before my wedding day.”

The night waxed late and you filled your bellies with mead to forget before you all retired to your homes. . . It was muggy when you dressed in the morning. Like the tepid air beside a swamp, you felt clammy and uncomfortable as you fastened your dress about yourself. Your head throbbed uncomfortably and you kept one eye firmly shut as you clung to the last tendrils of sleep.

You had no time for breakfast before leaving, but the fresh morning air was enlivening as your family made way up into the center of the village. You wondered absently what Else’s father would do now that his daughter would run a home and no longer be able to attract visitors to his bakery. The last of his children to get married; Else was the youngest of seven, six of whom were brothers.

The church came into view, in the center of the upper part of the village, just below the hill that housed the mill and its occupants. Sprawling gardens and a small cemetery greeted you as you entered the gate, making your way to the large wooden doors.

Else stood just inside the door in a deep purple dress, her mother fussing over her hair which had been braided over the top of her head and adorned with flowers. She looked beautiful and once again you felt envious. She was radiant not only because she was beautiful, but because she was so happy. Staring across the church at her soon to be husband, her smile filled her cheeks.

You wondered what it would feel like to stand at the altar with the one you loved; so happy you could hardly contain the emotion. You glanced out of the window where you could see the castle looming over the lake. Beautiful in its majesty, blue spires intense in the glow of the sun.

Once again, your thoughts turned to the prince and your mood soured. Someday, perhaps soon, an announcement would go through out the kingdom for his wedding. A marriage to, quite possibly, the fairest woman of them all.

A woman that wasn’t you.

.

.

Ahhh! I love this chapter so much and I hope you did too! I will be posting chapter 6 on Monday since chapter 7 is nearly done and then the series will end! I really look forward to hearing your thoughts, they mean so much to me! <3

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Copyright © 2019 by Taeken-My-Heart. All rights reserved.

[weminence]

Untether

Written for @originalfictionbigbang

CWs: there's a lot of talk of death, and there's specifically vague talks of car crashes and being sick

Also, thank you to the artist who did the artwork for this piece @the-dot they did amazing beautiful work and you can check that out here

Any way, onto the story.

Imogen died last Wednesday. A small crowd of mourners gathered around her casket to say goodbye. None of them heard the shadow of a child heave great hiccupping sobs. Behind them, Rune sits away from the funeral, insight but distant. No doubt the presence of the Bryne family banshee would depress the mood further, especially since Imogen had been the last Bryne and Rune wasn’t taking it well.

Rune had had an audience to every Bryne death since their first, Éabha and they’d expected to be audience to many many more, but expectations can disappoint. The gravediggers wasted no time lowering Imogen into the ground, but Rune couldn’t make themself look, wouldn’t look. Their breath was stuck in their chest and their cheeks were stained with tears. Watching would only make it worse. Imogen’s mourners filed out, saying goodbye as steadily as they could and eventually the priest left too along with the gravediggers and Rune was alone, staring away from the last Bryne’s grave.

A week passed, and even though Rune wanted to scream and fight, their cries quieted. Imogen’s headstone came, bright and simple. Rune moved without thinking, trying not to stare. They sat curled against her headstone and slept.

Another week and there was less crying.

And another.

Rune doesn’t know what they should do next, how to move on. They thought about it, when they could muster up the energy, but there were too many paths before them and it was making Rune dizzy. Then, when Imogen would come to mind again, Rune became consumed by guilt. They slept a lot, to avoid thinking.

Another week and Rune wasn’t alone. There was a man made of fire, probably a wisp, above them and a harbinger, like Rune, behind them. The wisp shifted from foot to foot before saying, “Hello.” Rune looked up, met with flame blue eyes and a half crooked smile. He was tall with shaggy bright orange hair and he blurred around his edges like Rune did, like he wouldn’t be solid if you touched him. “I’m Finn and behind you, that’s Callum.”

Rune didn’t answer, only rolled up from their fetal position to sit. They could feel the dried tears on their cheeks and the dirt that was no doubt caked on their face, but the banshee couldn’t bring themself to care.

Finn stared at Rune, getting more confused as the silence continued. Callum walked around the headstone and took a place in front of Rune. His voice was solid but gentle when he said, “We’re from a place called Hawk House. It’s a home for fae who have lost theirs or who don’t feel like they quite fit.” Callum was taller and broader than Finn, though he still looked gaunt with deep bags under his eyes and sharp cheeks. He wore a black shirt and a leather jacket. There was a thin scar on his neck. A dullahan, then. Rune thought he was the more inviting of the two.

Rune opened their mouth, but just ended up coughing. When their throat was clear, they asked, “Fit?” The banshee’s voice was rough from the month they’d spent crying and doing nothing else.

Sitting next to Rune, Callum answered, “Some fae don’t want their abilities or their place in the grand order. Some fae lose their place.” He paused and turned to face Imogen’s headstone. “Like you.”

Rune turned to look at Imogen’s headstone for a moment before turning back to the men. There was nothing for them here. Imogen would be nothing more than a box of bones before Rune could even blink. What did they have to lose? “I’m Renan Bryne. I prefer Rune, though.” Finn smiled widely, almost blindingly. Callum smiled too but his was quieter. He offered out his hand and helped Rune stand. Rune didn’t let go as they walked to the car.

Rune slipped into the car’s backseat and promptly fell asleep which made the ride to Hawk House that much faster. They only woke up when Finn opened Rune’s car door. The wisp waited for Rune to wake fully before saying, “Welcome to Hawk House, usually described as a home for wayward children, but actually it’s a home for wayward fae.”

It wasn’t a grand building, not a castle by any means, but it was certainly big. The outside was a light teal with white trim and the door was a light cream color. Inviting, but Rune wasn’t too sure they’d want to call it home. A little gaudy honestly but Callum and Finn looked at it like Rune had looked at Éabha so long ago.

Callum came to stand beside Rune, looking out at Hawk House. “It doesn’t have to be your home if you don’t want it to be. It’s just a place to start.” The harbinger offered Rune a warm smile and held out his hand.

Rune considered it and huffed, taking his hand. They walked into the house.

The foyer was more barren than Rune expected. No gaudy paintings or useless vases, just wide windows and outside was a bright garden. The sitting area had a couch, which looked well used and worn and there were some pictures hanging on the walls. Cozy not grand.

On the couch there was a girl reading but as soon as they were all there, she was in front of them.

“Hello!” she greeted. The girl had dark brown skin and eyes the color of smoldering embers. Her face was open and she wore a bright inviting smile. Like Finn, she was made of flames but there was something different about hers; older and more volatile but also somehow suffocated. “I’m Morrigan. I’m a phoenix.”

Rune tilted their head. “A phoenix. Don’t phoenixes live in flocks?”

Morrigan’s smile faltered subtly but visibly. Rune flinched and moved behind Callum, panic settling heavily above their lungs. “Sorry, that was gauche.”

Morrigan laughed quite loudly and Rune ended up fully behind Callum. “Sorry! Sorry!” Morrigan started. “I was just taken aback, that's all.” Morrigan sobered and said, “Yes phoenixes do live in flocks but they don’t take kindly to those who can’t die and won’t age. I was cursed and my flock didn’t care that it wasn’t my choice. Finn found me a month later.” Morrigan offered out her hand and when Rune took it she pulled them close and loudly whispered, “That’s why Finn’s here, he’s always a month off.” Finn protested but Morrigan was already pulling Rune away from them. “C’mon let’s go get you cleaned up.”

~~

Morrigan brought Rune to a room and said it was theirs and then sat Rune down in the bathroom. She wet a washcloth. “So how are you feeling?” Morrigan asked, gently, but Rune still tensed at the question. Morrigan began wiping the dirt from their face.

Realistically, Rune knew they didn’t have to answer, didn’t have to put a word to the chasm that was now their chest, but the words came spilling out of Rune’s anyway. “Empty,” they answer. “Like there’s a piece missing.”

Morrigan took a moment to rinse out the wash cloth before she asked, “Is that something you’d like to change?”

Rune didn’t respond, didn’t know how. The answer should have been yes, yes, yes, but Rune didn’t feel excited to fill up the void. It felt like a betrayal.

Morrigan finished cleaning up Rune’s face without pushing for an answer. The wash cloth got rinsed a final time before Morrigan spoke again to say, “You don’t have to, we'll all be here for you if you want to.” She offered a comforting smile and added, “You’ll have clothes in that wardrobe over there if you need.” And Morrigan left Rune alone. Rune didn’t change, they just fell onto their bed and fell asleep.

~~

Days later, Rune found themself in the kitchen with Callum as the dullahan made sandwiches. He wasn’t necessarily paying any mind to Rune, who was staring out at the garden.

“Why do you make food?” The banshee asked, still looking out the window.

The dullahan didn’t answer right away, finishing up a flip as he warmed the sandwich on a skillet. “Because it’s fun and food tastes good,” he answered. Callum turned to Rune and said. “That’s really all you need.”

Rune didn’t really see the point, but it looked like the harbinger was making them a sandwich and they didn’t feel like refusing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Rune only shrugged at first but answered, “I’m not used to talking.”

Rune waited while Callum worked at the counter. He replied, “Did you talk at all during your tenure as the Bryne’s banshee?”

“Children can sometimes see me,” Rune answered. “There were other fae, too. I wasn’t crying over deaths every hour.”

Callum was staring at Rune in surprise. “Children?”

Rune nodded. “Imogen saw me the longest.”

Callum looked at Rune for elaboration but all Rune could say was, “I don’t know why.”

“You talked to them?”

Rune nodded. “They usually talk first,” they answered. “Éabha’s grand niece was the first to see me.”

“Éabha?”

Rune smiled, and saw the way that surprise flickered across Callum’s features. They quickly schooled their features. “She was the first Bryne. The reason I’m a banshee.” Callum came around the counter to the table Rune sat at with two plates, and set one in front of each of them. He hadn’t asked, but Rune felt the words bubble up in their throat. “She was my only friend. Brash. Bold. Even then I didn’t talk much, but with Éabha I didn’t have to.”

“What happened?”

Rune’s shoulders fell, and their throat tightened. ”A plague. She died before me.”

Callum looked down and away from Rune. “I’m sorry.”

Rune didn’t know what to say. It took them a moment to relax and think before they quipped, “At least my head is not detachable.”

Callum snorted, surprised. “Eat your sandwich,” he demanded. They did. It was delicious.

~~

More days than not, Rune found themself in Hawk House’s library. It had become a safe haven of sorts. Finn and Morrigan were quite loud and sometimes it was just nice to have a place where they could sit quietly. They liked to spirit away into one of the more dimly lit corners of the library and read until eventually someone (usually Morrigan) came to them, but today Rune was mostly trying- and failing- to ignore the shadow hiding behind the stacks. It became increasingly difficult as the shadow’s anxiety grew more and more palpable, until Rune’s patience finally ran out. “You can come out and say hello.” Rune tried to keep the annoyance out of their voice but thought they’d failed when they heard the shadow drop something. He had joined Rune at their table though.

“Hello,” he said quickly, voice rough like it was almost gone. He was avoiding Rune’s gaze, though it was difficult to tell as his eyes were pure black. The shadow was pale, almost gray with deep circles under his eyes and sunken cheeks. His hair was moist and he wore mostly black. He seemed to want to fold in on himself. “I’m Aodhan. A merrow.” He didn’t speak over a whisper.

“Rune. Banshee,” they answered.

Aodhan shifted uncomfortably. “I just wanted to introduce myself. You’ve been here awhile and I haven’t been able to and I’m sorry for that. I was just nervous. I-”

“You’re fine,” Rune interrupted. “That wasn’t an introduction.” Aodhan gave them an incredulous look and Rune elaborated. “More details please.” They closed their book to put all of their attention on Aodhan.

“Um… I’m a Pisces?”

Rune snorted, surprising themself and Aodhan too by the look of his face.

“Not what I meant,” Rune responded.

Aodhan smiled and seemed to relax. “How are you enjoying Hawk House?” he asked.

Rune smiled, and answered, “It’s nice. Quieter than I expected.”

“Finn and Callum make sure not to be overbearing.”

“They’re kind.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Rune looked down at the table, trying to think of what to say, but Aodhan beat them to the punch, saying, “I heard why you’re here. I mean it’s usually that reason for banshees who end up in places like this but I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

Rune gave Aodhan a small smile of thanks, swallowing around the tightness in their throat. “Do you have a story?” They asked.

“I’m uncomfortable with large bodies of water. That’s why I’m here. I don’t dislike water but if the body of water is too big I hate it. Sometimes I swim in the lake on the property but mostly I just shower when I need to get wet. I do enjoy a good bath.”

Rune smiled at his story. And then a thought occurred to them. Before they could second guess themself Rune blurted, “Is this home, now?”

Aodhan’s face broke out in a giant grin and he answered, “Yes, there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.” Rune didn’t know how to react to that, so they just smiled again.

~~

Morrigan pulled Rune out to the garden to show them the roses. They were both sitting before the bushes, watching as a bee crawled over one rose’s petals. Rune didn’t remember the last time they’d let themself sit and admire the scenery. “Aren’t they lovely?” Morrigan asked. Rune nodded. “The garden is Keane’s pet project.”

Rune looked over at Morrigan now and asked, “The changeling?”

Morrigan turned to Rune in surprise. “You know they’re a changeling?”

Again, Rune nodded. “Is it not obvious?”

“How would it be?”

Rune considered Morrigan’s question for a moment before answering, “They’re soul. It’s fae but it’s been molded by humanity.”

Morrigan narrowed her eyes at Rune. “You could tell they were a changeling but not that I was a phoenix?” she asked.

“I’d never met a phoenix,” Rune answered, quickly but continued, “But there are other factors too. Keane isn’t fully fae. Your fire and Finn’s are different but they’re still fire. Callum is clearly a harbinger but I only knew he was a dullahan because of the scar on his throat.” Rune heaved a breath. “Also changelings haven’t been strangers to the Bryne family.”

“So you’ve known other changelings?” A voice asked behind them.

Morrigan jumped and Rune turned to face the changeling in question.

“Yes. And families aren’t often without neighbors.”

The changeling smiled. Keane was slim with open green eyes and pointed ears. They had brown skin, and freckles danced across their features, left there from hours out in the sun, no doubt. Their hair was short and brown and looked soft. Their casual clothes were more formal than not.

“Would I know any of those changelings?” they asked.

Rune shook their head. “Greater fae tend to avoid families with banshees. The Bryne family had two banshees. One technically wasn’t under my watch.”

Both Morrigan and Keane looked confused.

“He’d returned to the fairy lands before I died. There was one after that. And others around the Brynes.”

Silence followed Rune’s statement until Morrigan asked, “Why do they avoid banshees?”

Rune shrugged. "They might become part of the family, I suppose. Families aren’t determined by blood and so my bonds aren’t either. Sometimes changelings choose both families. If they can.”

Keane’s eyes widened in wonder. “They do?”

“Only if both sides can accept them.”

“Have you seen it happen?”

“I wouldn’t know it was possible otherwise.”

Keane leaned forward, curiosity making them obviously excited. “Tell me all about it.”

Morrigan elbowed the changeling, and added, “Please.”

So Rune did. They told them about the neighbors, the Aldridges, whose son was spirited away a week after he came home, how Mauve took care of him even when she doubted him and how she accepted him horns and all when the first son came home too. The changeling had gone home to his fae family and they’d welcomed him and told him to follow his heart and he’d responded that his heart was in two places and it couldn’t be any other way. He’d been a friend to Rune while they still lived close by, but the Brynes in that house died. And Rune moved on to the next. Keane stayed stuck to their story, soaking up every word that came out of Rune’s mouth. By the end the changeling was crying. Morrigan had her tiny arms wrapped around the older looking fae and Rune held their hand, though they didn’t know why or even if it was helping.

They sat like that for a while, until Callum came to call them in for dinner.

~~

Rune didn’t interact with Finn much, as the wisp was typically busy doing wisp things, but sometimes, when he was too tired, Finn would slip into the kitchen and sit at the table while Callum cooked. They didn’t speak, usually. Finn sat next to Rune and his head kept falling to the side quickly followed by the wisp jerking up his head as he tried and failed to stay awake. Rune placed a bookmark between the pages of their book and said, “Sleep.”

Finn straightened, blearily blinking at the banshee. “Hmm?”

“Lay down. Sleep,” Rune demanded. Finn pouted looking over to Callum, who was still mostly ignoring the wisp. Rune poked Finn’s shoulder, drawing his attention back to them. “Callum will still be there when you wake.”

Finn didn’t reply as he fell into Rune, who tensed at the contact. They knew from his even breaths that the wisp was already asleep but couldn’t help their surprise. Being touched was very new to Rune, even more so to be the person someone made a pillow of. Even the children who could have seen Rune couldn’t touch them. Finn’s head laid on Rune’s and they didn’t quite know how to name the warmth spreading through their chest. Rune settled and relaxed. Finn was asleep, that was the important part. Besides, it was nice. They grabbed their book from the table and opened it again.

Eventually Callum finished cooking, bringing over their meals. When he saw Finn, the dullahan grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t expect him to fall asleep on you,” he whispered.

Rune smiled and shrugged. “I don’t mind,” responding equally as quiet. They set their book aside and asked. “What are you making me today?”

“Spaghetti. Or at least the cheap version of it.” Rune nodded and began eating. They moved slowly and more carefully so as to not jostle Finn and the wisp didn’t wake, until nearly night fell. Rune had finished their book. Finn blinked his eyes open and glanced out the window, only to scramble away with the fear that he was behind. Before he left, the wisp turned back to Rune and placed a kiss on their forehead.

“Thanks, Rune,” he said. Rune smiled.

~~

Rune watched the clouds in the sky as they rolled and twisted. They could feel the electricity in the air on their skin. Aodhan and Callum were both in the foyer with them. “How do you feel about rain?” Callum asked.

Rune looked over their shoulder at the boys and pointed at themself in question. Callum nodded. “I love the rain,” they answered. “Thunder can shake you to your bones and lightning can burn, but rain tries its best to wash away and renew.” Rune remembered the small cabin that Éabha lived in with her mother and sisters. “There’s usually wildflowers after storms.”

Aodhan made a noise of disagreement from the couch and curled into Callum’s side, covering his ears. Rune felt confused so they must have looked confused, because Callum answered, “He’s afraid of thunderstorms. Too loud he says.” The dullahan rubbed Aodhan’s shoulder. Rune nodded and went to sit at Aodhan’s feet, pressing themself into the merrows' legs.

“When I was smaller, I was afraid of thunderstorms. My father was never home and I didn’t have a mother that I knew of, but Éabha was always there when I needed someone to hold me during a storm.” Rune recalled, “I only knew Éabha for about a year before we died but that was just enough time to fall in love with the rain. We’d always pick flowers the day after.”

“Maybe we could go flower picking after this is over,” Callum said. “What do you think, Aodhan?”

The merrow nodded into Callum’s chest and Rune’s lips quirked into a small smile. They began humming a song they remembered Éabha’s mother humming during storms and remained pressed against Aodhan’s legs throughout the night. Eventually the storm stopped, and Callum made them both a cheesy pasta. Apparently, Aodhan’s favorite. Still shaky, Aodhan slept in Keane’s room. Rune went out with Callum and picked flowers and set them next to Aodhan’s bed for when the merrow woke up. Callum smiled brightly at Rune, they didn’t know why it made them feel light.

~~

Later, Finn stopped into Rune’s room and asked if they’d like to join everyone for family movie night. Rune, confused, asked, “I’m not family?”

Finn visibly flinched and laughed awkwardly, “It’s only a name, Rune. We’re just watching a movie.”

Rune shrugged and followed Finn down the hall into a large living room. There was a large couch where Aodhan and Morrigan were already seated. Callum sat on the floor in front of the couch’s only empty seat while Keane took residence between the couch’s other occupant’s legs. Everyone was wearing their sleeping clothes. Finn took the seat behind Callum, somewhat awkwardly, and swung his leg over Callum’s shoulder. Rune stood in the door not knowing where to go. When Morrigan saw them, they seemed to jump up and have Keane switch places (much to Aodhan’s disappointment). Morrigan gestured for Rune to come over. “Come sit!” she called, smiling brightly.

Keane slotted into Aodhan’s side, more so than Morrigan had. The changeling appeared to have fallen asleep on impact. Rune cautiously took a place next to Morrigan.

After everyone was settled, Keane was the first to speak saying, “No horror movies, please, Callum,”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he answered. “We have a new member of the house.” Callum turned on a cartoon, one Rune had seen but couldn’t readily identify.

Morrigan reached over and took Rune’s hand in hers and everyone watched the movie begin to play. Rune spent most of the title sequence staring at the phoenix’s hand. The casual affection the other fae of Hawk House showed wasn’t opposed, even wanted by Rune, but it made their head spin. They felt the phoenix’s warmth through their fingers. “Aren’t I cold?” they asked.

Morrigan looked over at Rune and then down at their hands. She giggled. “Yeah, you are, but it’s nice. Plus, I think Callum might be colder,” she answered. Morrigan leaned into Rune’s shoulder. “Is this okay?” she asked.

Rune nodded.

Half way through, when Rune looked up, they found everyone in some state of slumber. Aodhan had fallen into Keane, resting his head on the changeling’s, and Finn had fallen across Keane’s lap while Callum had leaned into the leg still over his shoulder. Morrigan too had fallen back into Aodhan and Keane’s legs, dragging Rune with her.

Rune had slept since arriving at Hawk House, quite a bit more than they’d ever needed to when they were watching their family, but they’d never relaxed like this. Even before they died. They’d never been this relaxed around anyone. Éabha had been bright and warm. Her parents had welcomed Rune readily into their home, especially when Rune was avoiding their father, but sleep had always been a necessity to Rune, not a luxury.

Rune continued watching the movie, ignoring the tears that fell down their cheeks while they did it. They’d be dried by morning when the rest of the room woke up.

~~

Sometimes, on sunny days, Rune sat outside and read. It was quiet all over Hawk House if you knew where you were looking. They were sat upside down, their legs draped over the property line ledge, and their book held above them. Also, it was a perfect way to see people coming.

Keane made sure he stepped in Rune’s line of sight, so the banshee could close their book and join them. Rune maneuvered themself right-side up and took in the changeling in front of them.

“What do you want?” they asked.

“Sorry am I bothering you?” Keane didn’t actually seem to care about that, but Rune shook their head.

“Tired,” they answered. Keane nodded and took a place next to the banshee.

“Why don’t you head back inside and take a nap?” they asked.

Rune held up their book, "Trying to finish.”

Keane laughed. They said, “You know you could also finish after you sleep right? We won’t stop you.” Rune squinted at him and the changeling only laughed again.

“You wanted something,” the banshee repeated.

“I just wanted to talk,” Keane answered. “But now I think it’s my job to convince you to go inside.”

“Talk and then I’ll go.”

Keane gave them a skeptical look, so Rune straightened their spine and held out their pinky. The changeling smiled at the gesture and grabbed the banshee’s pinky with theirs. Then, Keane’s face lowered into a sad face.

“I just miss my families is all,” they started. “It’s my sister’s birthday and I wish I could call her, talk to her, be around her, but they don’t want me anymore.” Rune frowned. “I knew you could relate.”

“Not really,” Rune responded. Keane looked surprised but Rune continued, “The Brynes didn’t know I existed and the ones who did either forgot about me or convinced themselves I wasn’t real to begin with. The only exception there was Imogen, who knew I was real.” Rune took a breath, looking at the book in their hands. “My family didn’t know I existed. Your family just sucked. You may have been switched out but that’s not your fault. Changelings don’t choose that for themselves. And you were really all they knew. And I'm guessing your other family is similar so screw them.” Rune looked up at Keane who looked shocked even as tears slid down their face. Rune reached out and grabbed the changeling’s hand in theirs. “It’s okay, crying is good for you. I should know it was my job.”

Keane made a startled laughing sound and pulled Rune up into their arms, wrapping them in a hug. “Thank you,” they said.

Rune shrugged, but wrapped their arms back around them. “I think I won’t have a voice tomorrow. This is a lot of words.” Keane laughed again, agreeing. They pulled away from Rune, and grabbed their hand, pulling them back to the house.

“Wait!” Rune called. “You didn’t really talk,” they said. “I interrupted you.

“It’s okay, you still made me feel better. I really appreciate it, Rune. The changeling smiled and kissed Rune on their forehead. The banshee smiled and let the changeling drag them back to their room. The changeling tucked the banshee in bed and waited next to them until Keane was sure Rune was asleep. They softly kissed their forehead again and left the room.

~~

Music was playing from the living room. Rune peaked in, seeing Morrigan, Aodhan, and Keane all sat around a table, chatting. They looked like they were playing chess, which made a smile pull at Rune’s lips, reminding them of the games they’d play against Imogen.

Imogen stopped seeing Rune when she was 13. Rune had cried when they’d realized, for the first time in centuries they weren’t crying over a death. It took Imogen longer to notice and watching that had made Rune crumble. Rune didn’t know how they could make their presence known without disrupting the other members of the Bryne family, too. But one day, Imogen set out a board to play on. She’d stopped crying, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss her banshee. She made the first move and waited. She waited a long time before saying, “Rune, it’s your turn.” The banshee started, but sat at the table. They played many games over the years. They’d even been in the middle of a game when Imogen died. Rune tried to back out of the living room, but they were obviously noticed when the phoenix looked up from the board and to the doorway. Morrigan gestured for the banshee to come in. Rune really didn’t want to intrude and their eyes prickled with tears, so they shook their head and made to leave.

Morrigan had other plans though, and called out, “Rune, come join us please!” She made her eyes go wide and pleading, as the boys looked up.

The changeling smiled, also calling Rune in. The banshee conceded, quickly wiping their eyes and taking a place beside Morrigan at the table. “Who’s who?” they asked.

“I’m white,” Aodhan answered gruffly. His eyes were narrowed at the board, frustration clearly written on his features. Rune didn’t know why.

“So the loser?” Keane responded, a smirk nearly splitting his face in half. Aodhan rolled his eyes.

Rune looked over the board again. “Aodhan could win three moves, though?” they said.

The room was overtaken by silence. Keane’s eyes widened as he studied the board and Aodhan’s widened in surprise. Morrigan sputtered out a laugh. Aodhan’s lips turned up in a smile, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Did I say something?” Rune asked, glancing between the fae around them.

Morrigan patted their head and answered, “You just threw off the rhythm, friend.”

Automatically, Rune replied, “I’m sorry.”

Morrigan smiled, reaching out and pulling Rune closer into her side. “Don’t worry your cute little head. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Morrigan paused to smirk at the changeling as she finished, “Kean needs to be taken down a peg.”

“I don’t need to be taken down a peg!” Keane scoffed.

Aodhan scooted closer to Rune to ask, “How do I win?”

Rune balked. “I can’t tell you how to win,” they said, offended. “That’s cheating.”

Aodhan pouted. “It’s not cheating if you’re teaching me how to play. Keane’s never explained the rules.”

Rune scoffed at the changeling and Keane burst into laughter. “You’ve never made that face before!” they called.

“I’ve never been this offended. And I’ve been alive for thousands of years.”

“I’ve explained the rules,” Keane clarified. Still bright with laughter. “He just doesn’t listen when I talk.”

“You make learning boring,” Aodhan said.

Rune reached out their hands and knocked over both of their kings. A round of protests were made, but Rune just said, “No one wins in an unfair game.” They had the boys set the board back to the beginning and went through the rules. Aodhan wasn’t the best player but given knowledge he could certainly go toe to toe with Keane. The boys played their game and it was harder for Keane to keep the upper hand. By the end of their games Aodhan had won once and Keane three times, but the merrow was learning quickly.

As they all went off to bed, Morrigan pulled Rune aside and asked, “Tomorrow, do you wanna play against me?” She had a glint in her eye, one that made Rune’s face split in a grin. The banshee nodded and they both went to their separate rooms.

~~

Aodhan was in the kitchen when Rune found them, doing dishes from last night’s supper. His hair was up and he was halfway done. Rune took up drying the dishes. “You don’t have to help.”

“A house is easier to take care of together,” Rune said in way of an answer. Really they just didn’t want to be alone. They worked in silence for a while until Aodhan asked. “How’d you like the movie night?”

“The movie was good.”

“You watched the movie?” Aodhan asked, surprised.

“You usually don’t?”

Aodhan hummed, trying to come up with an explanation for his surprise. “It’s not really about the movie, more about being together. Morrigan usually stays up to watch the movies she puts on but no one typically makes it through.”

“I don’t see the point of it being a movie night, then,” Rune responded.

“Yeah, okay. That’s fair.” Silence followed, broken only by the small tinks and clinks of the dishes.

Eventually, Rune couldn’t take the silence and said, “Especially the family part. Why invite me? I’m not family.” Rune’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at their outburst.

Aodhan didn’t respond right away. He worked through the dishes and hummed while he thought. “But we want you to be,” was his answer. Rune froze in their spot. ““Family movie night'' is just a silly name. It doesn’t mean much,” he continued. He’d stopped washing seeing as Rune was stuck in place. “But you are someone we want to be here. You’re quiet, sure and you keep to yourself but that doesn’t mean you’re not full of life, Rune. You came here for a reason and I don’t believe that it was just because you had nothing better to do.”

Rune’s chest felt tighter, they were breathing a little quicker. Family. They wanted to be their family. Rune put down the plate they were drying and backed away from the counter and left the kitchen. Aodhan called for them but banshees could disappear better than any other fae. Darkness overtook them.

~~

Rune woke up on their grave. A simple headstone, just their name. Their previous family name had been scratched out of the stone, replaced by a child’s choppy handwriting. Imogen had heard their story and cried for days that they weren’t named properly in death. Rune had felt pride when she’d done it, and had felt accepted. Now it just made the empty part of their chest feel bigger. Éabha was a stone’s throw away, but Rune hadn’t felt like moving. They curled into themself and breathed. At least they tried to.

Family. They wanted them to be their family. Rune would be lying if they said they didn’t want that, too. It would be nice to have a family for once who knew they existed, who looked out for them and cared. Rune hadn’t had a real hug in centuries.

Rune often used to find themself wandering the forests near their home, it was the only place Rune had felt at home before meeting Éabha, but there was nothing and no one there to comfort the lonely child who had escaped into its open arms. One day, before Rune could make it past the outer trees, Éabha had run into them and it was the Bryne home that quickly became theirs. The forest was still their escape but the Bryne home was their base. And then they’d gotten sick, both of them consumed with pain and racked with coughs. The Bryne family had tried to take Rune back to their home with their father but both of the sick children had clung to each other and screamed. They wouldn’t let each other go even if the world would end.

Rune curled into themself, ignoring Keane who’d appeared behind them. “How?” they asked. They didn’t have the energy for much else.

“I found your grave a while ago. I thought you might have lost it,” Keane answered.

“I’ll always be tethered here.” Rune pressed their fingers into the dirt. “And to Éabha and the rest of them. This was the most distant I could be.”

“I heard what you and Aodhan talked about.” Keane moved so they were sat beside Rune instead of behind them. “He said you shut down and left. That you disappeared like a shadow.”

Rune contemplated their answer, turning their face away from Keane’s. “I… I feel guilty. For leaving them.” The wind blew through the cemetery and Rune tried to let out the breath that was caught in their chest. “Even before I’d died I would’ve done anything they asked of me, but-”

“But they’re gone,” Keane interrupted, “They’re gone and they can’t ask anymore of you. It’s not your job to take care of them anymore.”

Tears welled up in Rune’s eyes. In a shallow voice they croaked, “But I wanted to. I want to be theirs, to be needed.” Rune broke down in sobs, pulling their knees more tightly into themself and burying their face between them. Keane’s hand reached over and rubbed at Rune’s shoulders, making sure Rune knew they were there when needed. Rune sobbed and sobbed until they coughed and hacked, until there were no more tears left in them. When their cries had quietened, they felt Keane’s arms encircling them.

The changeling's voice was soft when they said, “You’re wanted at Hawk House.” Their hands rubbed circles into Rune’s small back. “Morrigan already thinks of you as her sibling. Aodhan likes the company in the library. I know Callum loves having another harbinger around, especially one who puts up with his cooking. Finn doesn’t know how to work with people but he’ll figure it out eventually. You’re wanted, Rune. You’re needed.”

Rune didn't respond, but they did wrap their arms around Keane until the sobbing stopped. Keane eventually convinced the banshee to jump on their back and they’d go home together. Rune slept on Keane’s shoulder, dreaming of goodbyes, of new beginnings. When they got home, Morrigan fretted and Aodhan apologized. Rune did, too. Callum grabbed their hand. Finn, most surprisingly, wrapped them in a tight hug. He said, “I didn’t want you to be gone. I’m glad you’re home.”

There were tears in Rune’s eyes as they responded. “I’m home. This is home.”

~~

After getting home, Rune stayed in their room. They read and slept and mostly avoided the others. Family was what Rune wanted. This family was what they wanted, but they’d never really had a chance to say goodbye.

After three days of Rune avoiding everyone it was Aodhan, followed closely by Morrigan, who burst into their room to pull them out of their room for movie night. He grabbed their wrist and pulled them up.

“You’re coming, that’s final.” Aodhan demanded.

“But- I-” Rune was pulled out of their room too quickly to protest.

Morrigan grabbed Rune’s other hand in hers. “When he’s mad he’s brazen.”

Rune let themself be pulled along but Aodhan stopped short of the living room. He huffed and asked, “Morrigan, could you give us a minute?” The phoenix looked between them and nodded.

There was silence between them. Aodhan was still gripping Rune’s wrist, tightly but not so hard it hurt. Just enough to make sure they were held. That they were there. Rune flexed their fingers.

“I want to be your family,” they said before Aodhan found his words. Surprisingly, the merrow didn’t react. “I have to say goodbye first.”

“So your solution is to ignore us?”

“Avoid,” Rune corrected.

Aodhan’s shoulders slumped and he turned now to face the banshee. Their arms were crossed between them.“That’s not any better.”

“You’re right. I don’t know how to be a participant. I never have.” Rune looked down, at their shoes, at the carpet. “I need to say goodbye first,” they repeated. They turned their wrist out of Aoddhan’s fingers but moved to take his hand in theirs, twining their fingers through his. “I’m sorry. For avoiding you. For running away.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you into running,” Aodhan answered. He smiled. “And getting angry.”

Rune nodded. They stood still in the halls until Rune stepped forward, wrapping their other arm around Aodhan’s waist, pressing their held hand between them. Aodhan blinked but returned their hug. After a moment, Rune pulled away. They switched which hand they were holding and pulled Aodhan into the living room. The couch was open, with Callum sitting on the far side. Finn was on the harbinger’s lap while Morrigan sat between both of their legs. Keane seemed to already be asleep, laid out over the floor with their head in Morrigan’s lap. Rune, careful to not kick Keane, fell beside Finn and Callum. Aodhan followed suit, though he managed to kick Keane maybe on purpose. Rune slid closer to Aodhan, still holding onto the merrow’s hand and the wouldn’t as Morrigan began playing The Princess Bride and not as Aodhan nodded off onto Rune and not even as Rune found themself nodding off into Aodhan.

~~

“We never got to play chess!” Morrigan pouted, holding a board up to wave in the banshee’s face. Rune was standing in their room’s doorway, blinking at the phoenix who’d popped up out of nowhere, waving a board in their face.

“Would you like to play now?” they asked. Morrigan nodded enthusiastically and Rune smiled. “Alright, please, lead the way.” They held out their hand to the phoenix, who’s eyes widened and watered at the gesture. Morrigan took their hand and practically skipped her way to the living room, dragging Rune behind her. Morrigan set up the board, refusing any help from Rune but talked throughout the process. “So I was in the garden with Keane when Aodhan burst out and said, “They’re gone!” and me and Keane were like “What!” but Keane seemed to know where you’d gone or had an idea.” The phoenix took a long breath and finally looked up at Rune and said. “You scared us. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rune replied.

“Me too,” Morrigan replied, nodding. “We tried to push the whole family thing a little too quickly. Banshees are really attached to their families and we should’ve been better about that. I’ll do better.”

“I will also do better,” Rune replied. “I told Aodhan this, but I want to be here. I’m just trying to find a way to say goodbye properly.”

“To the Brynes?”

“Yes,” Rune answered, sadly, “But also specifically to Imogen and Éabha.”

“You had favorites?” Morrigan gasped in fake offense and Rune chuckled.

“Not favorites, not really.” Rune twirled their king in their fingers, thinking. “They just left the most impact. I wouldn’t be here without them.”

“At Hawk House?”

“Yes but also here as I am.” Rune set their king back in his place and said, “People are made of impressions of others, we reflect the qualities we most admire in others and become our own person. Without them, I wouldn’t be made of the pieces I am and I wouldn’t be me.”

Morrigan was white, so she moved first. E2 to E4. “Are you saying goodbye to those parts of you?” she asked.

Rune moved E7 to E5 and answered, “No. Never.” Morrigan moved her knight from G1 to F3. “They’ll always be a part of me but I need to let them go for all of us.” Rune moved their knight: B8 to C6. “Eventually, I’ll get things from all of you, too.”

Morrigan’s other knight came out B1 to C3. “I can’t wait.”

“I can’t either,” Rune answered. Rune moved their other knight out G8 to F6.

“Hey, Rune?” Morrigan asked and moved their bishop F1 to B5. “Are you copying me?”

“No!” Rune moved a pawn: D7 to D6.

Morrigan gave them a skeptical look and took their turn and then Rune and then Morrigan castled her king. Rune moved their bishop. Morrigan moved their king’s castle. Rune took the first piece of the game, one of Morrigan’s pawns. Morrigan’s knight took the pawn. They moved over the board slowly, methodically, piece by piece dancing across the board, until eventually Morrigan manages to block Rune from moving. The phoenix launched from her chair to shout her victory. Rune laughed, and asked, “Would you like to play again.”

Morrigan settled back into her seat, serious as ever. “Absolutely!”

~~

Callum came into the library, and flopped down in the seat next to Rune. They looked up from their book at the dullahan and gave him a questioning look. The harbinger sighed and fell into Rune, practically squishing them against the couch. “We all have bad days, Rune. Today’s mine.”

“What’s up?” they asked, slightly out of breath.

Just had to harbinge. You know how it is.”

Rune pushed Callum off of them, so he ended up with his head in their lap. They began running their fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how it is for you,” they responded, putting their book to the side. Callum’s hair was soft.

“Do you know how dullahans signal death?” Callum asked.

Rune shook their head.

“When a dullahan senses death nearby, they ride until they get to the spot where the death will happen and they wait.” A clouded look washed over Callum’s face. “There was a car crash near the highway. I had to watch the whole thing.”

Rune frowned. “I’m sorry,” they said. They didn’t know what else to say.

Callum continued, “It’s always been like this and I’ve always hated it. Death isn’t pleasant, and watching brutal deaths as part of your entire existence is draining.”

“I would imagine so,” Rune responded.

Callum looked up at Rune, “Have you witnessed a lot of carnage?”

Rune thought for a moment. “I have lived for a long time watching the deaths of every member of the Bryne family. It’s impossible not to get some carnage, but I’ve stayed with a family. Their deaths won’t be one gruesome death after another. And dullahans are connected to violence are they not?”

Callum nodded. “I’ve seen a few domestic deaths, but they aren’t as powerful a pull as violent deaths. It blows.”

Rune nodded in sympathy.

“How did you feel when you saw a Bryne die?” Callum asked.

Rune hummed, thoughtfully, and answered. “Sad, I usually knew it was coming. There was a tug in the pit of my stomach. But also detached. These were people I knew almost through a screen. They were real but it didn’t feel like it or it was easier to mourn quickly because it was through that kind of wall.” Rune remembered when Alexis Bryne died in a fall, “Even sudden deaths were easier. I usually didn’t talk to them or interact with them for more than a few months. Imogen I interacted with even after she stopped seeing me. I knew her. I knew her heart. Plus, she was the last. That one is still hard.” Tears began welling in their eyes as Rune tried to blink them away. Callum lifted up so he could come and wrap his arms around the banshee. “I just miss her.” Rune hiccuped, sobs jumping out of them.

“Sorry,” Callum whispered, hugging Rune more closely. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He seemed genuinely nervous and that shocked Rune enough to laugh.

“Thank you for the apology, Callum, but it’s not needed. Like I said, it’s my job to cry. I still haven’t cried it all out yet. I’m just now getting the chance to mourn Éabha properly. Now is better though.” Rune looked up at Callum and smiled, “Now I get hugs.” The dullahan laughed and leaned down, pressing a kiss into Rune’s hair.

They stayed like that, hugging, for a while. Until Rune looked up and said. “I’m saying goodbye tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes- I mean that’s the plan,” Rune answered. They wrapped their arms a little more tightly around Callum. “I’m going to their graves tomorrow, but that might be all I do.”

“Do you want us to come with?”

“No- I mean m- no,” Rune stuttered, burying their face into Callum’s chest. “I should do this alone.”

“But you don’t have to,” Callum said, squeezing the banshee. “We’re family, remember?”

Rune smiled into the dullahan's chest. “Right, we’re family.”

~~

Rune stood at Imogen’s grave, stiff and cold and lonely. No one had come with them. They hadn’t asked. So far all they’d done was stare at the headstone.

Imogen Bryne: February 14th, 1990 - July 7th, 2021 Loving Daughter, Doting Teacher

It was a simple headstone, which was all she would’ve wanted. Rune didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to say it. They might as well start at the beginning though. “I’ve come to say goodbye.” They grimaced at their own words. They’d never been good at conversation but this was an important one. They should be better. “You were my world, little one,” they said, because even though Imogen looked older than her, she was still younger, the youngest. “Ill never forget you but I have to let you go. It’s not good for either of us if I hold onto you so tightly.” The banshee bent down and sat. They laid out a chess board and placed two kings on the board, exactly where they’d been the night Imogen passed. They other pieces didn’t matter, only the kings. Rune sat with the board for a moment, before taking a breath and moving forward. They knocked over their king. “I concede,” their voice was thick with emotion. Tears were filling their eyes. It didn’t take much for them to start spilling over, down and down and down. Their was sadness nestled in their chest. They’d watched Imogen her entire life and their was nothing that could compare to their friendship. Rune would always, always love her. But there was relief too. To let go of the burden of the Bryne family, to put them all to rest with Imogen as the last. They were theirs, but they were gone and holding onto that tie would only hurt them in the end.

Rune stood, folded up the chess board and stuffed the black king in their pocket, but the white king they left on Imogen’s grave. With one final pat, the banshee left.

The next grave they visited was much older than Imogen’s, more worn and faded. Rune was almost afraid that if they touched it, it would crumble under their fingertips.

Éabha Bryne - Aged 13 - Little Flower Please Rest Well

Éabha had been a lot of Rune’s firsts. Their first friend, the first person to care about them. Rune had never truly mourned them, moving on to the other Brynes. Standing here, Rune felt their breath constrict in their throat. A sob burst out of their throat, dizzying, broken, lost. “I wanted so much more with you,” Rune whispered. They reached out and brushed their fingers against Éabha’s name. They had just become friends when they both died, sick and hurting, gasping for air that felt more like knives with every breath. They could’ve been sisters. They would have been friends the rest of their natural lives. Éabha would’ve brought Rune out of their shell. Rune couldn’t help the way they sobbed over their missed lives. Each breath came out a gasp or a hiccup, and the banshee couldn’t keep their eyes open. “I- would have- given- you- the world,” Rune said. “I didn’t- I didn’t get the chance.” Their sobs subsided, to trickles of tears and Rune tried to wipe their face with their sweater’s sleeves. Snot was getting everywhere, their cheeks were red and scratchy. Rune smiled, though, remembering Hawk House. Remembering the fae they would turn around and go home to. “I have a family now, though,” they said. They gasped through a sob and sniffled before saying, “You’d love them. Morrigan is even brighter than you. Finn gives the best hugs. There’s Callum, and he’s always there when I need him. Aodhan would drop everything to sit quietly in the library with me. And Keane has a garden that would rival an evil queen’s!” Rune pressed their hand into the stone. “I get to go home to them so I can’t hold on to you. Not like I have been. You’ll always be a part of my heart but I want to make room for them.” Rune paused, wiping their tears and stood. They gave Éabha a smile, straightening their shoulders. They wanted to look put together on their way out, even if that wasn’t how they felt inside, even though Éabha probably couldn’t see them. The banshee pulled out a rose, one from Keane’s garden. “Goodbye, Éabha,” they said and placed the rose on the girl’s grave. They turned to walk out of the cemetery, only to see a gaggle of fae at the edge of the yard. Morrigan was holding a box of tissues, clearly already using some for herself. Keane and Aodhan were stuck awkwardly against the car. They didn’t look like they knew what to do with themselves and the rumbling thunder made Aodhan nervous to leave the car in the first place. Finn was smiling at Rune, bright and warm and there were tears on his cheeks. Callum was watching their every move, ready and waiting. Rune burst forward, slamming themself into the other harbinger who wrapped his arms around Rune tight. Callum was warm, so warm. Then Finn moved, wrapping his arms around them both, and Morrigan, too. Finally, Aodhan and Keane added themselves to the group hug all while Rune wept into them all.

“Let’s go home,” Finn whispered into their hair. Rune nodded, but they still didn’t move, not for a long while. When they did though, Rune was sat squarely between Aodhan and Keane, both of them wrapping their arms around the banshee. Morrigan was squeezed tightly again the door of the car, just managing to fit, but she reached out to grab Rune’s hand the whole way home.

~~

Rune found Callum in the kitchen as expected. He was finishing the dishes from the day before which meant he hadn’t started cooking today’s lunch. Rune smiled.

“Hey there,” Callum greeted.

“Hello,” Rune replied, excitement pooled in their chest. “Today, can I cook?”

Callum turned to Rune. “You know how to cook?” Rune nodded. Callum shrugged and asked, “Do you have everything you need?”

Finn appeared in the kitchen’s doorway, carrying armfuls of bags. Huffing, the wisp said, “Yes. They made me go shopping!”

“I didn’t make you,” Rune corrected and turned to Callum. “It won’t be perfect. I know how but I haven’t actually cooked a meal before.”

“Can I help?” Callum asked. Rune nodded, smiling. They hadn’t smiled this much in decades. Callum returned their smile and called, “Okay Finn, Rune, wash up!”

“What? I have to cook, too?” Finn squawked. Rune’s smile split their face, their cheeks hurt. Finn stayed to hem and haw. They washed their hands and started setting everything out.

“What are we making?” the dullahan asked.

“A stew!”

“A stew for lunch?”

Finn scoffed at the dullahan and responded, “As if we eat dinner!” He began with the beef, tossing it in flour and spices. “The only reason we’ve gone through so much food is because Rune here spoils you.”

“Callum spoils me,” Rune corrected, chopping the carrots next to Callum.”His cooking is to die for.”

“Okay, but you didn’t have to tell him that.” Finn bumped his shoulder into Rune’s and everyone in the kitchen laughed. They worked on vegetables and meat until they were just waiting to add the veggies to the soup.

Eventually, Morrigan peaked into the kitchen. “You guys have been in here awhile. Whatcha cooking?”

“Stew,” Rune answered.

“For lunch?”

The three fae in the kitchen responded together, saying, “For lunch!”

Finn moved over to their veggies and scrapped them in the simmering stew. “Think we’ll have enough for everyone?” he asked the banshee.

Rune nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright then,” he said, “Morrigan it's your job to round up the others.”

Morrigan straightened her back. Standing tall, she saluted the wisp. “Will do, Captain,” and she quickly disappeared again.

Curiously, the other fae of Hawk House filed into the kitchen and sat at the table.

“It smells amazing in here!” Keane said, bumping up against Rune. Aodhan sat squarely between Morrigan and Keane. Rune hovered beside Callum waiting for the timer to go off. They shifted from foot to foot, suddenly nervous.

“You all cooked?” Morrigan asked.

Callum answered, “Finn actually did most of the work. Rune hadn’t actually held a knife before.”

“Maybe I should’ve started with learning,” Rune responded, blushing slightly.

“No, you did great!” Finn said, wrapping his arm over their shoulders. “You didn’t chop off any fingers so you’re doing great, kid.”

Rune glanced up at Finn, their eyes narrowing. “I think I’m older than you,” they said. Finn’s eyes widened in surprise but before he could respond the timer went off. Callum went over to the stove and turned it off. He took the pot off of the heat. He began dishing out stew. They quickly settled into their meal, erupting into conversation. Warmth bloomed in Rune’s chest as they ate.

~~

Keane tried to scare Rune and Morrigan again, but again only managed to scare Morrigan. The changeling leaned over the banshee and asked. “Why can’t I scare you?”

Rune looked up at them from their book and answered, “Because I know you’re coming.”

Morrigan pouted beside them. “And you don’t warn me?”

“I figured you would know by now to be on guard. Keane sneaks up on you a lot.” Rune turned back to their book.

Keane squeezed in between Morrigan and Rune on the couch, and said, “They’re right, I do sneak up on you a lot.” Morrigan glowered at Keane who only laughed.

Morrigan leaned over to see around Keane and asked, “How can you tell they’re coming?”

Rune gave up on making any progress reading and woefully set their book aside. They might have heard Keane mutter “Dramatic,” to themself but rune chose to ignore it.

“They’re soul,” Rune answered. “I can feel it. I don’t think anyone could sneak up on me.” Rune paused to consider. “Maybe other harbingers though. I believe we can all shadow walk.”

“What does my soul look like?” Keane asked.

“Green, bright bright green, with a hint of human blue woven into the green.”

“Human blue?”

“Oh- oh- Me next, me next!” Morrigan cheered.

Staring at her, Rune saw the excitement feed the fire of the phoenix’s soul. “Flames,” they answered. “Big blazing ones that flicker and shift with your emotions. Very pretty.”

“How do my flames compare to Finn’s?” she asked.

“Finn has hotter, smaller flames. There’s not a lot that can change them. He’s more controlled, focused.” Morrigan nodded, mesmerized.

“Okay but now you have to do Aodhan and Callum, to be fair.” Keane stated.

“Alright, Aodhan is blue and grey, like the ocean right before a storm. Eerily calm. Except his calm isn’t eerie, it’s welcoming. And Callum is harder to parse out. Harbingers are typically shrouded in shadow so it’s hard to parse through what’s his soul and what’s shadow, but for the most part his soul is grey, like deep dark night where you can still see the trees. He’s determined and steadfast.”

“You sure know a lot about our souls,” Morrigan said. Keane nodded their agreement.

Rune smiled. “I like to look at them. They’re my family’s.” Morrigan awed and Keane leaned into Rune. They all hugged for a moment, before Rune asked. “Can I go back to my book now? It was just getting good.” Keane burst out laughing, but nodded and Morrigan giggled in her seat.

~~

Tired as they were, Rune shuffled into the family room for movie night, a smile tugging at their lips despite not having much of a reason for there to be one. Finn and Callum were sat on one side of the couch, Finn nearly in Callum’s lap, while Keane took their place on the other side. Aodhan and Morrigan sat on the floor, dozing. “Are we sure we’re going to get through a full film?” Rune asked, taking their place between the couple and Keane.

“Finn won’t, he’s already nodding off,” Callum answered, turning and kissing Finn’s hair. Finn would have flicked him if he didn’t mind moving.

Keane said, “I think we should just play it and see where we land.”

Morrigan called, quietly, “Fantasia!” with as much excitement as she could muster.

“Fantasia it is.” Keane set everything up. Rune settled into the couch, happy to be surrounded, happy to be here, to be home. Not one of them made it to the end, but the point of movie night wasn’t really the movie. "

[generaldisdainn]

Four of a Kind

AO3 link

Rating: MA 

Summary: After accepting a job as the head of marketing for a local animal shelter, Anna finds herself in a new city in need of a place to live. Luckily, 3 guys know just the place.

Previous chapter

Chapter 5 (A reminder that this fic is rated MA!! There may or may not be a little smut in this chapter,,,,)

Anna threw her keys onto the table next to the front door as soon as she entered the apartment. Usually, she adored spreading the word about a cause she was passionate about, but today had been absolutely brutal.

They were running a large dog adoption event at a local park, and while everything had been going well for a while, some lady had her dog out without a leash. Of course, the dog ran over and went ballistic at the sight of so many other dogs. The lady apologized profusely for the inconvenience, but it didn’t change the fact that Anna had to run after a dog and ended up slipping into mud in the process. Not to mention the fact that it was still oppressively hot outside, and she had already been sweating profusely at that point. She was sweaty, sticky, and she smelled distinctly of wet dog, a smell even the most loyal of dog lovers can admit is unpleasant.

She was dying for a shower.

She made her way into her bathroom and promptly undressed, eager to get out of the clothes that were virtually plastered to her body. Over the last month, she had gotten intimately acquainted with the garden Ryder had set up in their shared bathroom. She had even gotten to know each of the plants by the name Ryder gave them. Frederick, one of the more obtrusive plants in the space, brushed against her arm as she undressed, the long tendrils of his leaves jutting into the bathroom from where he sat atop the back of the toilet.

She locked the door and started the shower, relishing the sound of the steady stream of water and the steam that filled the room moments later. She drew a smiley face in the condensation on the mirror before hopping into the shower- something she’d done since she was a kid.

As soon as she was in the water, she let her mind drift in an attempt to wash away the stresses of the day. She already felt better now that she wasn’t so damn sticky.

Her mind rested on her living situation. She was only about a month into living in the apartment, and yet, she already felt like she had melded into their little group. She had gone grocery shopping with Ryder just yesterday, and they joked about how detailed and exact Sven had made the shopping list. It wasn’t Anna’s first time going grocery shopping for the apartment, but she consistently found the absurdity of Sven’s lists funny.

“I’m glad you’re here though,” Ryder had said. “Now if we get something wrong there’ll be two of us for him to yell at.” Anna had laughed at that.

Sven had always been extra friendly with her as well, almost protective, in a brotherly sort of way.

She could tell she was making significant strides with Kristoff, but he still seemed closed off and a bit cold sometimes. One day he would be cracking jokes with her in the kitchen, and the very next he would just brush her aside after she tried to ask him some questions about himself. He was also the only one of the three guys who had never been into her room, save the time he brought her dresser in from her car. She still didn’t really know how to feel about him.

But his body- she knew exactly how to feel about that.

She hadn’t noticed it at first, but ever so slowly, he had become someone who consumed her thoughts. He had even made his way into a few of her favorite fantasies, including the one she found herself thinking about now.

He would walk into the shower and throw her against the wall without a word, strong arms holding onto her hips as he fucked her. Anna blushed profusely as the thought sent a wave of desire straight to her core. She glanced up at the showerhead, suddenly remembering why she had been so excited about it being detachable in the first place.

Embarrassment aside, this was her apartment now too. She grabbed the nozzle of the showerhead and brought it down to where she ached for it. She changed the setting so the water condensed into a gentle, pulsing stream, one that stimulated her in all the right places.

She spread her legs farther, allowing the water to massage her clit. She threw her head back and let out a soft moan as she thought of Kristoff caressing her, touching her, and bringing her to the edge of bliss.

So close . Her back was pressed up against the cool tile of the shower wall and her thighs shook as she grew nearer and nearer to her peak. A soft cry left her mouth.

Suddenly, the warmth was gone. The water had stopped.

“Fuck!” Anna shouted as she messed with the shower handle a few times and came to the conclusion that the water was not turning back on.

“Is everything okay?” she heard someone faintly call from the living room.

Anna let out a loud huff and wrapped herself up in a towel. “No,” she replied as she exited the bathroom. “The shower stopped working.”

Kristoff seemingly stopped in his tracks. His gaze shifted downwards and then immediately snapped back up to meet her face. He swallowed thickly. “You can use our shower to finish if you want. I can take a look at it when I get home from work tonight.”

“Oh my god, Kristoff, thank you so much.”

Kristoff murmured something that she didn’t quite catch, and she grabbed her things and hurried to his bathroom so she could chase her high once more. She turned on the water, let it heat up, and stepped in, reaching up to take the showerhead down from its perch. She was practically throbbing with need, her body heating up as she thought about Kristoff using this shower and what it would be like for him to be in here with her now.

“Fuck,” she thought to herself. This showerhead didn’t detach like the one in her bathroom. She guessed she was just going to have to finish up the old fashioned way.

***

Sometimes, Kristoff forgot Anna was even living with him. Other times, it was impossible to forget. This time it was one of the latter.

Construction was fine work. He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t love it either. He was just grateful to have a decent income and health insurance. Usually, the work was easy-going enough that he could let his mind wander without any dip in productivity. Except today, every time he let his mind wander, Anna popped back into his head. The image of Anna wearing nothing but a towel around her body was seared into his mind. The fact that he had heard her wasn’t helping matters either. Stifled gasps and a pitched moan or two- he wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he could blame her; from what he could hear it seemed like she was doing her best to stay quiet, but the walls were thin and the water flow wasn’t strong enough to really drown out any noise from inside the bathroom.

Kristoff tried to convince himself that he didn’t like her as much as he knew he did. She was comfortably the sweetest person he had ever met, and the fact that she was so attractive didn’t hurt her appeal either. He had never been so enamored by a girl before, which was why he couldn’t let himself give in to those feelings.

He realized the cruel irony. The more he liked her the more closed off he became. His previous relationship had left him with only the part of himself that made him push people away, whether he wanted to or not. He knew he didn’t want to push Anna away. The last thing he wanted was to shut her out or make her feel unwelcome. He desperately wanted to get to know her better, to sit and listen as she spoke about the things that made her heart sing. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and kiss each beautiful freckle that dotted her face. But accompanied with all that wishful thinking, there was still that nagging fear, the lingering part of himself that said “she’s going to hurt you just like the last one.” Whether or not it was true, despite the pull of his heart to take a leap of faith, it was the fear in his mind that he fed.

“Maybe one day,” Kristoff thought to himself as he resumed his work.

***

Kristoff entered the apartment after his long day. He was tired and sweaty and spent. He was ready for a warm shower and a good meal before he turned in for the night.

He headed straight for his bathroom, peeling off his grimy clothes and turning on the shower faucet, letting the water heat up. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked tired-- dark circles hanging under his eyes and his mop of blonde hair falling in awkward, sweaty strands after a day of hard labor in the sun. He shook his head and hopped into the shower. There was no use overanalyzing something as mundane as a physical appearance.

Something was different in the shower. He noticed it as soon as he stepped in. It smelled like flowers and springtime. It certainly didn’t smell like him or Sven. Suddenly, it hit him. Anna . It smelled like Anna . The unmistakable smell of strawberries and cream was lingering from when she had used his shower. The smell was soft and full of whispered promises. His cock immediately stiffened at the realization. The thought of her had plagued him all day, and here she was once again, the smell of her surrounding him and conjuring up an image in his mind of her in her towel. This time, however, she would drop the towel and saunter over to him, swaying her hips. He would hold her breasts and push her up against the wall. He would inhale her deeply until the flowery shampoo and feeling of the summer breeze became a part of him too. He wanted to taste her, to feel her on his lips.

Kristoff turned the shower to cold and yelped at the sudden rush he felt. His mind was cleared and his cock stopped straining painfully upwards, begging for attention. He was not going to fantasize about her-- about his roommate. It just felt wrong. He thought of work instead, of what his day might look like tomorrow. Anything to distract himself from her perky ass and freckled shoulders.

Kristoff stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He began walking over to his room when he heard something.

“Oh, Kristoff!” Anna called when she heard the door open.

Kristoff noticed her draw in a breath and stop as she regarded his form. He only had a towel around his waist. He figured he wouldn’t run into anyone on his short walk back to his room.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Anna looked away uncomfortably.

“No, it’s fine. I was just headed back to my room.”

“Yeah- I was just wondering if you could still fix our shower tonight? If not that’s totally okay though.”

“I’ll definitely do that tonight. I just have to change and dry off and stuff.”

She still wasn’t looking him in his eyes. Her gaze flickered over the towel hanging around his waist and then flitted back to the floor. “Okay, thanks Kristoff,” she said, finally raising her head to flash him a soft smile.

Kristoff entered his room, shut the door, and let his towel fall to the floor. He was still somewhat hard, but it wasn’t as painful as it was earlier. He just hoped Anna hadn’t seen him straining against the towel. He laid down on his bed, rolling his shoulders to ease some of his tension. He always did this after a shower. He preferred letting himself air dry and he appreciated the peace and quiet he got for a moment while doing so.

Before he could stop himself, his hand began lazily stroking his cock. He let out a soft gasp at the contact. He had been holding himself off all day, and while he didn’t want to fantasize about her …

Kristoff moaned as she entered his mind, towel dropping to reveal her breasts. Would they be freckled just like her shoulders? He was completely hard now, his motions more deliberate as he gave in to the temptation. Although he did feel a bit weird fantasizing about his roommate, it wasn’t like she would ever find out.

His mind spiraled, and soon he was trying to figure out what she tasted like. Perhaps a sunset, or like salted caramel. He swirled his thumb over the top of his shaft, spreading the thin bead of precum around the head and increasing the speed with which he touched himself.

He worked his shaft with an eager hand, his head thrown back against the bed and his toes curling as he worked himself with a practiced grip. He reached for a tissue with his free hand and let out a hiss when he came. It didn’t take long, as he’d been worked up all day. Kristoff laid back on his bed and sighed, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to continue living with this girl that he couldn’t get out of his head.

Kristoff shook his head and stood to get dressed. He had pretty much dried off at that point, and besides, he had a shower to fix. And unless he wanted to be sexually frustrated by a certain someone’s shampoo after every shower, he needed to fix it soon.

[gaylotusthatexists]

Sacary Village (2)

pairings: brotherly analogical and creativitwins, eventual romantic moceit, parental anxceit/loceit

summary: Logan and Virgil spend their first full day in their new town, and join forces with the town's self proclaimed 'monster hunters', the Prince twins. 

trigger warnings: knife mention, discussion of past death, implied past bad family relations

word count: 9172

taglist: @boopiskoop @shootingcookielover @vindicatedvirgil

a/n: hey! this is part two for my vaguely-gravity-falls-inspired-but-not-quite-au. you don't need to read the first part if you don't want to b u t i would recommend it simply for this to make more sense haha. anyway this chapter was a lot of fun for me and would have had it posted like a week ago but ran out of time and then was offline all week, but here we are now! hope y'all enjoy~

ao3 

monster hunters

When Virgil woke up the next morning, there was a brief panic as he tried to figure out where he was, why he was in such an unfamiliar bedroom, until he remember the move. Right, of course - he was with Janus now, in some sort of attic bedroom, sunlight seeping in through a large, circular window and Logan sat up in bed on the other side of the room, flicking through the pages of some encyclopaedia. Virgil slowly sat up as well, looking around the room with a tired expression.

"Ah, Virgil," Logan asked, shutting his book tight. "Good morning."

Virgil blinked. "How long have you been awake?"

"I'm not sure," Logan said. "An hour, maybe?" 

"Oh."

Logan stood up and made his way over to Virgil's bed, sitting down on top and opening up his arms. Smiling, Virgil sank into him, allowing Logan to hug him tightly. It was a routine of theirs that they'd quickly gotten used to over the past year and a half, a silent reminder every day that, even if the world wasn't offering anything else, they still had each other. Logan was alive, and well, and right here besides him, and things would be okay.

"I didn't dream up yesterday, right?" Logan checked, glancing down at Virgil.

Virgil blinked, confused for a moment, before his eyes widened. Oh. He'd forgotten about that. A dragon, in the forest. What the hell had that been about? "Kinda hope that we did, honestly," Virgil said. "I mean... a dragon?"

"Yeah." Logan hummed. "Janus said he'd explain everything, right?"

"Yup." Virgil wiggled away from Logan, moving closer to the wall. Sensing that Virgil was done with physical contact for the morning, Logan stood up, moving back towards his bed. "I... don't know what to think about Janus."

"I know, Virgil," Logan said, "but we'll be fine. He hasn't tried to hurt us, correct?"

"I mean, yeah, so far."

"He saved us yesterday," Logan reminded him.

"He didn't know it was us then," Virgil said. "How did he even know the dragon was there? What was he doing in the cave?"

"He'll explain everything later."

"He better explain." Virgil looked around the room, eyes landing on the window. "Window looks big enough for us to climb out. It's not to late to pick up my running away plan, is it?"

Logan sighed. "We're not running away, Virgil."

He stood up, heading towards his suitcase and pulling out some clothes. Virgil turned his head as Logan got changed, before the two switched places and Virgil got changed as well. Another routine they'd settled into, changing in one another's presence for fear of being left alone. Logan always refused to leave Virgil's side, and Virgil was grateful for that.

"I'd like to go into town today," Logan decided, as the two made their way to the bathroom just down the hall, which Janus has showed them last night. "Buy a notebook of sorts, to record information about that dragon we saw and any other things we end up seeing."

Virgil frowned. "What, you want to go seeking out all the weird shit again?"

"Well, I believe it will be interesting," Logan claimed. "I'm not asking you to come with me."

Virgil would have come anyway, and Logan knew that. He also knew there was no way in hell that Virgil would want to seek out danger. "Logan, I don't think-"

"We'll be fine," Logan said. "I just want to go back and get a drawing of it. After that, I don't mind if we don't go looking for other things. But if we do happen to come across something-"

"We will run in the opposite direction-"

"I will want to attempt to understand it," Logan corrected. He began to brush his teeth, which Virgil copied a few seconds later. Virgil didn't feel like arguing anymore, but knew that if Logan did go back out there, Virgil would attempt to stop him. He was fairly certain that Logan knew that too.

Once the two had finished with their quick wash, they headed downstairs, hearing footsteps wandering around. Before entering the kitchen, to the source of the footsteps, Virgil and Logan looked at each other, Logan silently communicating to Virgil that it would be fine. Although they hadn't had much time to talk to Janus the night before, after arriving home late from Patton's, he had told them that they were welcome to come downstairs into the kitchen whenever they were ready.

Logan entered the kitchen first, with Virgil following tentatively behind. He wasn't sure what time it was - was it too early for them to be awake? What if he had imagined last nights conversation and were actually meant to wait to be collected from their room, like a few other places that the brothers had stayed in? What if Janus already hated them and wanted them gone?

Virgil's fears quickly faded, though, when he saw Janus' face brighten up upon seeing the two brothers.

"Logan, Virgil, good morning," he greeted. "I trust you had a good sleep?"

Logan nodded, smiling politely at Janus. "Yes, thank you. It's a lovely room." He took a seat at the table as Janus sat down himself. Virgil still hovered in the doorway, assessing the situation.

"It's just an attic," Janus said. "If all goes well and you two can stay here permanently, we can decorate it properly."

Virgil frowned. "Permanently?" he repeated, stepping further into the room.

Janus blinked. "Yes? I thought you knew that by taking you in I was intending to adopt?"

Logan glanced at Virgil, then back at Janus. "We weren't told. It's very... considerate of you, though. Although, fair warning, every other place we've stayed in has had... difficulties."

"I'm well aware," Janus confirmed, straightening his posture and motioning for Virgil to sit down. Although still a little hesitant, Virgil complied. "What separates me from the rest of them, though, is that I am your uncle, and I only want what's best for both of you. I know you two have been through... a lot, recently, and I have every intention to make sure that you are now safe."

Virgil wasn't sure what to make of that. It seemed almost too good to be true. And he didn't trust Janus, not one bit. "If you're our uncle," he said, "how come we've never heard of you before?" That question had been plaguing his mind since he'd been informed of him moving in with Janus, and still set off all sorts of warnings.

"My brother - well, your father and I, we... well, we haven't talked in a while, to say the least."

"Well, yeah, he's been dead for a year and a half," Virgil said, jokingly, although immediately regretted it afterwards as he saw the sort of sad expression on Janus' face. "Sorry," he mumbled after. "Just- you weren't even at the funeral."

Janus gulped. "I know. I- I wanted to be there," he said. "Or would have wanted to be there, if I'd known. I hadn't spoken to him for years before. Or the rest of our family. It's only recently that I heard of his passing. And I'm- I'm dreadfully sorry, Virgil, Logan. I can't- I can't imagine what it must be like."

Virgil raised an eyebrow at that last statement, but didn't say anything else. After a few more moments of silence, Janus stood up and made his way over to the side, before returning a few seconds later with a plate of pancakes.

"Breakfast," he said. "No more talk of death for now. We can talk more about it another time, okay?"

Virgil shrugged. "Alright." After Janus handed him a clean plate, he grabbed a pancake from the centre of the table and began to eat.

After a few moments of silence, Janus spoke again, "So, since you two are getting settled in, we should probably talk ground rules."

Virgil paused eating for a moment, trying not to show how nervous that made him. It was expected, he supposed, but previous places he'd lived in had been pretty ridiculous, and he didn't want to end up somewhere where everything he did was controlled again. He glanced over at Logan, who just stared at Janus intently. Logan had always been a stickler for the rules, he was probably excited to hear them.

"In all honesty, I don't really care what you two do," Janus began, causing both Virgil and Logan to frown. What did that mean? "You're free to come in and out of the house as you please, all rooms here are open, including my bedroom as long as I'm not sleeping - unless it's an emergency, of course - apart from the shed in the garden. That's my space, and I'd rather you two not poke your head around. Even if you see weird lights coming from inside." He paused. "Especially if you see weird lights coming from inside."

There was a long silence, before Logan quietly said, "Anything else?"

Janus shrugged. "I mean, you're both teenagers, I assume you know how to take care of yourselves. If you need any money, just ask, although obviously I'll be hesitant if it's a ridiculous amount. You can have whatever food we have in, or buy your own if you'd prefer. I'll make breakfast and dinner anyway, and lunch if you need it. Patton across the road will be more than willing to provide that as well. Speaking of, feel free to go to Patton's whenever, he's an alright guy, his kids come round here all the time."

"So you... really just don't care what we do?" Virgil asked. "Like, we can just do... whatever?"

"Well, sure." Janus hummed. "I mean, I'd advice against you taking drugs or committing any serious crimes, and obviously I'd like you to do fairly well at school - let me know if there are any problems with school, by the way, I won't be angry if you're struggling. You still have until next week before school starts, though."

Huh. Even their parents had been more strict than this. This was... This was weird.

"I believe that covers it all. I won't give you a curfew, but if you're going to be home super late, or if you're staying at some other house, let me know." Janus smiled. "I want you two to be comfortable here, okay? If you ever need anything, you can tell me."

Another silence. Virgil continued eating, eyes flickering up to Janus every few seconds.

"So," Logan eventually said, "can we talk about yesterday yet?"

Janus' eyes widened. "Yesterday?" he repeated.

"Yes?" Logan said, tilting his head. "The dragon, remember?"

There was a pause, and then laughter. "Dragon? Don't be silly."

Logan frowned. "You were there. You said you'd explain everything today."

"Did I?" Janus hummed. "You must have dreamt that, Logan."

"No, no, he definitely didn't dream it," Virgil said, beginning to feel a little concerned. "I was also there, and we saw you handle the dragon."

Janus shrugged. "Huh. Well, you boys have a great imagination."

Logan stood up, finished with his breakfast. "I bet it's still there," he said, sounding a little agitated, gritting his teeth. "We could show you. Jog your memory a little."

Janus rolled his eyes, and Virgil was half-tempted to punch him in the face. He restrained himself, because, despite the fact he still didn't trust Janus, he had been pretty nice to them so far. "And where was this dragon, exactly? Because I feel like if there was a dragon in the town, I would know about it."

"It- It was in the forest," Logan said, staring hard at Janus. "You were there."

Janus was silent for a moment, something flickering through his eyes - fear? Worry? Anger? "I wouldn't go in the forest if I were you," he said. "It's dangerous."

"Thought you said we could do what we want," Virgil said, regretting it slightly afterwards.

"Of course, I won't stop you, but..." He shook his head. "Actually, no. Unless you're with Patton or myself, no going in the forest. It's dangerous, and I don't want either of you two getting lost." There was something different in his voice, something that Virgil couldn't quite place, but something that also made Virgil feel anxious. That calm, easy-going nature had faded. He sounded stricter, and... and Virgil didn't want to know what would happen if he disobeyed Janus. Going against his 'guardians' wishes had never done him any favours in the past.

"Alright," Logan eventually said, still sounding a little bitter. "I'm... sorry." It occurred to Virgil that perhaps that final tone had made him just as anxious as Virgil.

"Don't apologise, Logan," Janus said, returning to his calmer nature from before. "Now, how about we all take a little walk into town today? Get to know each other a little better. Maybe get you some stuff for the room, or some new clothes if you'd like."

~*~

"Roman, Roman, Roman!"

Roman groaned, turning over in his bed and wrapping his quilt tighter around him.

"Roman!" The voice continued to repeat, over and over. Roman just wanted to continue sleeping. He'd been up late last night and, whilst that wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence, it was also a Saturday, which meant he had an excuse to sleep for a little longer. If it wasn't for his brother, of course, shouting his name over and over and jumping down onto his bed.

"What?" Roman exclaimed, finally sitting up. "What could possibly be so important that you wake me up on a Saturday?"

Remus grinned. "I'm heading back into the forest!" he announced, proudly.

Roman stared at him for a moment, then blinked, unimpressed. "And you're telling me because...?"

"You're coming with me!" Remus said, grabbing Roman's wrist and attempting to pull him out of bed. He failed.

"Remus, it's, like, ten in the morning."

"Yeah, and Dad's still asleep, and I wanna leave before he wakes up so he doesn't find out we're going to the forest-"

"Why don't you just tell him?" Roman wondered.

"Because he'd freak out."

"I don't think he would."

"He would. Especially if he knew about the dragon."

Roman's eyes widened. "Oh shit. The dragon."

"Yup!" Remus grinned. "I wanna go see it again. My new goal in life is to poke it."

"You think that's safe?"

"Nope! That's what makes it fun." He paused for a moment, tapping his leg, before his eyes widened again. "Wait, do you think we could keep it as a pet?"

"It tried to kill us," Roman reminded him.

"Yeah, and? Wolves used to try to kill humans, probably, but then we domesticated them! Bet we could do the same with dragons!"

Roman closed his eyes, sighing. "Lizards, Remus. You're talking about lizards. Just get a lizard."

"I don't want a lizard," Remus said. "I want a dragon." He moved away from Roman's bed, heading over to the door. "Get dressed! I'll nip down to the shop and buy us some snacks for a picnic, if you want. We could go to that lake again."

Roman's eyes lit up at that, and, seeing his now happy expression, Remus grinned and left. A moment later, Roman heard the front door slam shut, before he rubbed his eyes and crawled out of bed. He quickly tidied up his clothes from the night before, which he'd just thrown on the floor before getting into bed, then got changed into a red t-shirt, jeans, and a white jacket, decorated in swirling patterns he'd painted on himself. He quickly brushed his hair, sweeping it to the side, then cleaned his teeth and grabbed his backpack, heading downstairs. It would only be him and Remus, he presumed, so he didn't do anything else to make himself look nice. He took his sketch pad from the living room, however, thinking that if they were heading down to the lake he'd have a good chance to try out some landscapes.

"You going somewhere?" a voice asked, as Roman's hand hovered over the doorknob. He spun around, coming face to face with Patton.

"Oh! Morning, Dad," he said. "I was, uh, Remus and I were gonna head out for the day. He just popped down to the shop, we were gonna-"

"Where are you going?" his dad asked.

"Oh, uh, y'know, just in town. Maybe to the fields, we were gonna have a picnic."

His dad frowned. "Alright, be back before dark."

Roman smiled. "Of course! Thank you." He turned again, heading out the door before his dad could change his mind.

~*~

Logan trailed after Janus and Virgil as they walked into town, along the footpath next to the fields. Although Janus did have a car he could theoretically use to drive into the main town area, he had insisted on walking, stating that it would be nice, and also would allow the brothers to learn the way into town when they wanted to go without access to a car. As if they couldn't figure it out themselves.

"Any shops you want to go to in particular?" Janus asked, as they stepped into the town.

Logan and Virgil were both silent.

"Right, of course, you're new," Janus remembered. "Uh... The clothes you brought with you last night are all you have, right? Like, you don't have any more boxes coming?"

"Well, it was a little difficult to get any of our possessions after our house fucking burned down," Virgil mumbled, staring down at the floor.

"Oh. Yes. I'm- I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Logan quickly said. "We did buy some things after we first moved out, but nowhere we've lived so far have been all that bothered to buy us loads. Virgil and I do have some money of our own, however, so-"

"Logan, you don't need to worry about money," Janus said. "I'm not expecting either of you to buy essentials with your own money, I can handle that." Virgil and Logan exchanged a glance, but said nothing more. Janus continued, "For today, we'll just visit our local clothes shop, and perhaps another day we can drive out to the mall and have a good look around. After that I suppose we should see what kind of food you two would like, and I'll let you two have a wander if you want, check out some of the smaller shops whilst I get some business done."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Business?"

"I just need to have a chat with someone who lives in town, no big deal."

Despite him saying that, Logan desperately wanted to know. Did it have anything to do with that he saw yesterday? Was there some sketchy going on? Or was it just a mundane problem, or a simple catch up, was Logan thinking too much into this?

Either way, he let Janus lead them around town, finding it best not to argue with Janus. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he'd be able to explore the forest more.

~*~

By the time that Remus had made it out of the shop, Roman had already caught up, now looking wide awake. Remus' backpack had been filled to the brim with snacks, most of which he'd brought with a tenner he'd found on the kitchen side but some of which came into his possession in a not-so-legal way, as well as some other 'equipment' in the bottom - knives, nets, a picnic blanket, just in case.

"You got up quick," Remus noticed. "Thought you'd spend a little more time brushing that perfect hair of yours."

"I'll have you know, my hair is already perfect, I don't need to brush it for hours for it to look this way." Roman smirked. "Although, maybe you should give it a try."

Remus stuck his tongue out, then spun around on his heel, heading deeper into town. Frowning, Roman ran a little to catch up with him.

"I thought we were heading to the forest?" Roman recalled.

"Well, yeah, but if we walk back down our street Dad will get confused. And then we'll have to explain. Plus, I stole a tenner off him, so-"

Roman blinked. "Where'd you get it?"

"The kitchen." Remus shrugged. "It was just there, lying by the sink, all in its own, abandoned by the world."

"Are you fucking kidding me, Remus," Roman groaned. "That was mine."

"You really should take better care of your money, Roman."

"You owe me ten."

"I don't owe you shit, I'm your twin brother, we share things. As Dad would always say, sharing is caring."

"I don't think I've ever heard Dad say that."

"You know that he thinks it all the time, though."

Roman sighed. "Okay, yeah, you're right. Doesn't mean I'm gonna let you off."

"You'll forget eventu-" He froze. "Holy shit, is that those kids from yesterday?"

Roman frowned, then followed Remus' gaze. It was. The two teens they'd met the day before were walking around town, following Janus. Their uncle, right? Yeah. Remus grinned and ran up to them, tapping the older one - Logan - on the shoulder. "Hey!"

Alarmed, Logan spun around, getting into a fighting stance, before noticing Remus and relaxing. "Oh. Hello, Remus."

After catching up with him, Roman said, "What are you doing out here?"

"Shopping," Logan said, "obviously."

Janus turned around and looked at Remus, humming. "Ah. The Prince twins. How are you doing?"

"We're good!" Remus said, grinning. "We were gonna have a picnic. Can Logan and Virgil come with us?" He ignored the confused stare from Roman.

"I don't see why not." Janus turned to the brothers. "How about you two finish up your shopping with the twins, then I'll meet you back home tonight."

Logan looked down at Virgil and something happened between them, some sort of secret communication, before Logan looked back up at Janus. "Yes, that sounds good. I'll see you tonight, Uncle."

Janus smiled. "Stay out of the forest, yeah?" Logan nodded, then he took off, leaving the four teenagers alone on the street.

Once Janus was out of sight, Remus said, "Well, Roman and I were planning on heading into the forest, so I hope you're not one to listen to the adults."

Logan breathed out. "That's what Virgil and I were planning to do as well."

Virgil frowned. "No, actually, I-"

"Awesome!" Remus grabbed Logan's wrist and began to drag him down the street, the other two following. "Anywhere you need to go first?"

"Is there anywhere I could buy a notebook of sorts?" Logan asked.

Remus nodded. "Yeah, there's a stationary place at the end of the high street. C'mon."

~*~

As Janus did his weekly food shop, something gnawed in his chest, a feeling that his nephews were about to get in a whole lot of trouble again. He'd been so stupid the day before, forgetting that they were coming in and then allowing them to run straight into danger, without even being able to tell them it was there.

There was something going on in his town, and Janus had spent the last few years living here trying to figure it all out. He didn't want Logan and Virgil to be getting caught up in all of that. He remembered how when he was younger he'd dragged his brother into mysteries with him, and he knew that had only harmed him, emotionally and physically, and in turn caused their relationship to break down. He didn't want that for his nephews. He wanted them to be safe, he needed to keep them safe.

And if that meant hiding a few things from them, keeping them from exploring the forest, then so be it. He needed to come up with some sort of excuse about the dragon, because they really didn't seem to buy his usual lies. It wasn't difficult to convince others in this town that all they saw was an illusion, a dream, but these boys were smarter, they could tell fantasy from reality, and they knew this was reality. Just like Janus did. And just like the twins.

As far as Janus was aware, the twins had never actually seen anything like the dragon yesterday, nothing entirely real, but they had told him about some things they'd found in the forest, skeletons of long dead mystical creatures, weird equipment lying around - his equipment, mostly, but he tried not to tell them about that - small clues to suggest the existence of the extraordinary. He knew all about their self proclaimed 'monster hunting' business, and didn't want to attempt to sway them from that, of course he wanted them to have interests, but... he did worry, sometimes. And he definitely didn't want Logan and Virgil to be getting caught up in all of that. They'd both already been through enough.

After paying for his shopping and leaving the store, Janus pulled out his phone and called Patton, who picked up on the second ring.

"Janus!" he greeted, happily. "How are you doing? The boys settling in okay?"

"I'm quite fine, Patton, thank you," Janus said. "Logan and Virgil are alright as well, I hope. They've just met up with Roman and Remus, actually."

"Oh, have they?" Patton sounded just a little confused, but tried to mask that with his usual happy persona. For the longest time Janus had wondered why Patton always did that, always hid his emotions, until he thought about how much he lied to keep the secrets of this town secrets. He sort of understood. Perhaps Patton just didn't want anyone else to be upset. "They didn't tell me that."

"Well, I'd imagine they're just happy to have some friends," Janus said. "I don't know them as well as you do, of course, but... I've never seen them with anyone else."

"Yeah." Patton sounded a little sadder there, his mask beginning to fade. "I think Roman's had a little trouble fitting in at school, and Remus isn't going to abandon him. They'll have your boys soon though, at least. I'm glad they've made friends."

"Yes, yes, of course." Janus glanced up and down the street, but didn't see any signs of the kids. Perhaps they'd already left town. "Did they tell you where they were going, by any chance?"

"Roman mentioned the field," Patton said.

"Alright. Okay, yeah, that's good." Janus sighed. "If you see them, keep an eye on them, okay? They've been through a lot, and-"

"Don't worry," Patton said, his usual chipper voice returning. "I'll make sure they're safe."

Janus let out a breath. "Thank you."

"No worries." Although he couldn't see him, Janus imagined that Patton was grinning. "I've got to go, though, washing the dishes right now."

"Yeah, of course, sorry. Goodbye, Patton."

"See ya!" Patton hung up. Janus stared at his phone screen for a while, before sighing and beginning to walk back home.

~*~

"Logan, this is a bad idea," Virgil murmured, tugging on his older brother's sleeve. "Uncle Janus literally told us to stay out of the forest."

"Since when have you ever listened to what the adults say?

"Since when have you ever broken a rule?"

"What's so bad about the forest?" Remus asked, spinning around and beginning to walk backwards, as the four of them approached the forest.

"Our uncle said it was dangerous."

"Yeah, duh." Remus rolled his eyes. "It's a forest. There's probably, like, wolves and shit."

Virgil froze.

Roman just laughed. "What, so you're afraid of a little wolf but not of that literal dragon?"

"I'm fucking terrified of the dragon!" Virgil snapped.

"Calm down, Virgil," Logan said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. That did make Virgil feel a little better, he had to admit. "We'll be fine. The dragon's dead, remember?"

"We don't know that the dragon's dead," Virgil said, "and we also don't know that there isn't more of them."

Remus groaned. "No one is forcing you to come, you know? If you're gonna be a stick in the mud just go back home."

Virgil just clung onto Logan, as Logan pulled tighter. He wasn't leaving without Logan, that was for sure. He refused to go anywhere without Logan.

"Alright then." Remus shrugged. "It'll be fun, anyway. Trust me, you aren't going to die. Not today, at least." He backed up into a tree, and let out a short cry of pain, before spinning back around and kicking the tree, glaring angrily at it. "Who the fuck put a tree here?"

"We're here." Roman grinned and picked up the pace, heading deeper into the forest. Sighing, Virgil broke away from Logan's grasp and followed, eyes darting around nervously for any signs of danger. He put his hands in his pockets, clinging onto his phone just in case they got themselves into danger - who he would call, Virgil hadn't figured out yet, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully, by the time they reached the cave the dragon will have disappeared, perhaps it really had just been a figment of their imagination in the first place. They were having a picnic soon as well, right? At the very least, that was something to look forward to.

"So," Roman said, walking next to Virgil as Logan and Remus forged ahead, beginning to exchange theories on the dragon. Virgil wasn't really surprised at Logan doing that, but it was weird to see Remus that way, acting just as much of a nerd as Logan was. "What brings you to town?"

Virgil frowned, glancing down at Roman. He was just a little comforted by the fact that Roman was shorter than him, despite being older. Not much shorter, but shorter nonetheless. "I'm living with my uncle now."

"Yeah, but, like. Why?" Roman said. "Why here? Literally anywhere else would be cooler."

Virgil blinked. "Uh. My parents died. I didn't really have much of choice."

Roman's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, shit. Uh. S-Sorry-"

"Don't be." Virgil sighed. "It was a while ago. I'm... over it." He wasn't, not really, but he didn't need to tell Roman that. It was something he was still working through - he had been seeing a therapist about it a few months ago, but had to stop after moving too far away. But that was fine, he was fine. He still had Logan, at least.

"Still," Roman continued, "that must be, uh, hard. I-I can't even imagine what that would feel like."

"Eh." Virgil shrugged. "Seriously, don't worry about it. Logan and I are just here now because... Janus is all the family we have left, I think. Took him a while to find us, but we're here now, so... yeah."

Roman gave him a sad smile. He didn't seem to quite know how to respond. Which was fair enough, really. He looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"What about your family?" Virgil found himself asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from himself.

A real smile grew across Roman's face. "It's good. Just me, Remus and Dad. We... have family elsewhere, I think, but never really talk to them. Janus is... also basically family, he's almost like a second dad to us."

"What about your mum?" Virgil asked, immediately regretting it afterwards but finding no way to take it back. It wasn't as if he could travel back in time - could he travel back in time? If dragons were real, then who's to say that time travel wasn't?

"I never knew her," Roman said. "She split up with Dad when Remus and I were young. Dad got full custody."

"Oh. Did something-"

"Nothing bad happened," Roman cleared up. "They just weren't really a good match, what with Dad being a flaming homosexual and all. She didn't really want anything to do with him when she found out."

Oh. Oh. Virgil had never actually met an adult who was gay before. Children, yeah - he'd been to plenty schools with out queer kids, a few of Logan's old friends, including himself, were gay, and Virgil was... not straight, possibly bi, he wasn't quite sure yet. But that was cool. Nice to know that Patton would be... accepting.

"Were you and your parents close?" Roman asked, to which Virgil was half tempted to punch him in the face because who asks that but held himself back.

Instead, Virgil just shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I do miss them, but..." He breathed in. "Like I said, it's been a while. I don't... I don't really want to talk about it."

Roman was silent for a moment. "Okay. Sorry."

"It's okay." Virgil sighed. "It's fine. Just don't have the energy today."

"I-I get it." Virgil seriously doubted that he did, but didn't say any more. The group had reached the cave now, which meant he had far greater things to be dealing with. Like making sure that his brother and possible-friends didn't get killed.

As the group stepped into the cave, Virgil's heart began to pound, as the events from the day before suddenly came flooding back. This cave was creepy enough on its own, with the dim, blinking lights and the quiet whirring of distant machinery, but knowing that there was possibly a dragon running loose was an even worse feeling. What if they weren't so lucky this time? What if they didn't make it out? What if they got caught exactly like they did last time and nobody came to save them?

"Hey," Remus whispered into his ear, causing Virgil to jump back, somewhat startled. Something was gently lowered into his hands, something sharp and metallic, before Remus stalked away. "Just in case."

Virgil looked down at the object in his hands, frowning for a second before completely freaking out, almost throwing the object across the room. "What the fuck do you want me to do with a knife?" Knowing that his original plan to throw the knife away could result in someone getting injured, he instead held it out at arms length.

Logan sighed, turning around to Virgil and taking the knife out of his hands. "Remus, please don't give my fourteen year old brother a knife. Why do you even have knives in the first place?" Logan placed the knife in his own pocket, and Virgil tried his best not to think about its presence.

"We could be fighting a dragon soon!" Remus defended, his loud voice echoing through the cave. "We need to be prepared!"

"Yeah, but giving a child a knife isn't the way to do that," Logan said.

"I'm not a child," Virgil argued. "You're only two years older than me."

"Yes. That makes you a child."

Virgil stuck his tongue out, then charged forward, going to walk next to Remus instead. Perhaps to annoy his brother, or perhaps because he was the one with the knives, so if they were attacked he would be able to defend them. The group arrived at the smaller tunnel from the day before, where they had originally found the dragon. Only to find it completely empty.

"Huh," Logan said with a frown, walking past Virgil further into the tunnel as Virgil stopped, allowing himself to fall back to the back of the group. The same mistake he'd made the way before, before coming face to face with a fucking dragon, but he didn't exactly have any other options. "What happened?"

"Maybe we just dreamt it, like Uncle Janus said," Virgil suggested.

"No, it was definitely here," Logan muttered, crouching down onto the ground. He looked ahead at where the door had been, to find it open once more, then back at the ground, placing a hand on the rocks and feeling around.

"Maybe it flew away!" Remus said, crouching down next to Logan.

"No, it was injured, it couldn't have gotten far," Logan countered.

There was silence for a while, and Virgil was half tempted to turn around and walk back home, leave these weirdos alone to deal with the missing dragon, but still he stayed, not wanting to leave his brother alone. If the dragon really was real, and it had escaped further into the cave, or even got out, he didn't want to risk leaving Logan alone in here with it. Even if he was with the twins - Virgil still wasn't sure what to think of the twins, they seemed to be the type to run into danger for the fun of it and Virgil did not vibe with that at all.

Eventually, Roman performed a dramatic gasp, and ran over to his brother, gripping his shoulders. "Remus, you know what this means?"

"Please don't say 'monster hunter time'."

"Monster hunter time!"

Virgil blinked, stepping forward. "Uh, what's monster hunter time?"

"Remus and I are monster hunters!" Roman said, with a grin.

"Roman is a monster hunter," Remus corrected. "I am a person who searches for creatures of mythical or illogical origin."

"Yeah, exactly, a monster hunter."

"Shut up, Roman."

"You're the one who started the monster hunting thing-"

"Yeah, and I wanted us to the called 'the cryptid catchers' but you said that was dumb, so..."

"It is dumb."

"Alliteration isn't dumb."

"Can you both just shut up and explain what you mean?" Virgil snapped.

Roman sighed. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Remus and I have a hobby of coming into this forest and looking for weird shit. We've never found anything alive, but now we know there's a dragon somewhere, so we're gonna hunt it down."

There was a pause, before Virgil said, "Do you want to get us killed?"

"Yes!" Remus shouted. After Roman nudged his arm, he corrected, "No!"

"C'mon, Virgil," Logan said, rising up off the floor. "It might be fun."

Virgil just stared at him like he was insane.

"If it gets too much, we can head home," Logan promised.

Virgil let out a long, long sigh. "Okay. Fine."

~*~

A few hours after leaving the boys, Janus found himself in Patton's kitchen, running his fingers through his hair and trying to figure out why this was already taking such a toll on him. He knew that Logan and Virgil were okay, they'd been through a lot worse than just having a picnic with the twins, but they'd been out for a while now and he hadn't so much have received a text from either of them or seen them in the fields and he'd promised himself that he'd take care of them, what if they were hurt, what if-

No, no. He'd also promised that he wasn't going to be too protective of the boys. Obviously he wanted to protect them from his work, keep them safely in reality, keep them safe from any harm, but at the same time they were both teenagers, who were smart enough to take care of themselves. They needed to have independence, he didn't want them to feel as though he was trying to control them. He wanted them to live their own lives, make their own decisions. Even if those decisions could potentially put them in danger. Obviously he'd try his best to prevent that, but...

"I'm sure they're fine, Janus," Patton said, placing a cup of tea down in front of him and sitting down opposite him. "Roman and Remus are both quite independent, and also... somewhat sensible, they'll be keeping them safe."

"I've had them for less than twenty four hours and I'm already terrified that they're going to get hurt," Janus said, staring down at his tea.

Patton gave him a small smile. "That's just what comes with being a parent, Janus. You'll always be afraid that your children are going to get hurt, and you'll do everything in your power to protect them, but you need to let them go as well. No matter how scared you are, you'll always have faith that they will eventually come back safe."

Janus sighed. "This is why I didn't want children."

There was silence for a moment, until Patton quietly asked, "Janus, why did you decide to take them in?"

Janus took a long gulp of his tea, trying not to show how much it burnt his tongue as he put it back down. He opened his mouth to speak, before deciding to take another gulp. Procrastination at it's best. In truth, he didn't quite know why he'd decided to take them in. He could have just left them to continue to be thrown around different foster homes, until they eventually both aged out of the system and went to live their own lives. He hadn't talked, even wanted to talk to any of his family in years, and now...

"Because they're all I have left," he eventually said. After seeing Patton's confused expression, he continued, "Both of my own parents are dead, and I stopped speaking to my brother years ago. So then when I found out he died, I... I don't know, I felt like I should have tried better. I never really engaged with my family, kinda just got out of there as soon as I could, but... yeah. Then I find out that my brother had two kids, and that they were all alone in the world, so I reached out and tried to get them. I wanted them to be safe."

Patton looked at him for a while, considering him, before smiling. "I think that's nice of you. Virgil and Logan deserve to have a family just as much as you did."

Janus scoffed. "Yeah, no, I don't blame my family for never trying to connect with me again. You don't know this, but I was kinda shitty person back then. Abandoned my family because they deserved better, and... I don't know, I wanted more out of life. Made a lot of mistakes, talked to a lot of people who didn't make life much better, and... now I'm here, just trying to make the most of things."

"I'm sure you weren't-"

"You don't know anything about my past, Patton," Janus said, perhaps a little too harshly, judging by the way Patton flinched. He immediately felt bad about that. "Sorry, I... That's all behind me now, y'know? I... You're probably closer to me than any of my family ever was."

He tried not to focus on how Patton blushed at that. And definitely didn't blush himself.

"I'm just... worried about the boys," Janus admitted. "They're all I have left and-"

"It'll be okay, Janus," Patton reassured him, "they'll be okay."

~*~

The further the group traveled into the cave, the more excited Logan became about all of this. Machinery was scattered all around, in little rooms and on the walls of tunnels, blinking lights and buttons with weird symbols. It took all of Logan's strength not to go up and push the buttons, just to find out what happened. He held himself back simply because he didn't want to press the wrong button and get himself killed, but God was he curious.

"Who do you think made all of these?" Logan wondered, stopping by one of the machines and crouching down, trying to get a better look around it. He could see a small hatch on the side with a keyhole, and desperately wanted to open it to look inside, to see what was going on.

"Probably some government place," Roman said. "These machines have always been here. I don't think they really do anything."

Logan hummed, reaching towards the hatch and attempting to pull it open. It was locked, which really shouldn't have shocked him. "Do any of you guys know how to pick locks?"

"Oh!" Remus exclaimed, jumping down next to Logan. "I do!"

Virgil seemed just a little alarmed by that. "Should we be concerned?"

"Nah." Remus looked at the lock for a moment, before taking a pin out of his pocket and beginning to pick the lock. A moment later, the hatch swung open. "There!" He moved away, allowing Logan to get a closer.

There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Just wires and cogs, and clear glasses showing some sort of energy source, Logan presumed - a neon green liquid. He tried not to think about that. After staring at it a moment longer, he closed the hatch and stood back up, continuing to follow the others deeper into the cave.

Every now and then, he'd stop by a machine and take out his new sketchbook (which he planned to turn into a journal of sorts) and doodle some of the symbols, mostly to make a note and see if he could research them later. He was intrigued to find out what they meant, although most just seemed to be random shapes - then again, he did spot a couple Greek letters, perhaps the ones he didn't recognise were something like that?

They heard a noise from further down the tunnel, and stopped. A moment later, the noise disappeared, only to start back up again. Logan glanced at the others, trying to figure out if they had any idea what was going on. It didn't sound... aggressive, or even particularly terrifying, but it was different than the quiet whirring of machinery, and seemed to echo around in the tight space. Plus, knowing that it was highly likely that there was a dragon on the loose didn't make things much better.

"Maybe we should just go back home-" Virgil quietly suggested, trying to turn back only to be physically stopped by Roman.

"It's probably nothing," Logan said, half to reassure his brother and half to reassure himself. He continued to walk down the corridor, slower this time, towards the source of the sound. It sounded... well, not dangerous, not really. Peaceful, probably quiet if it wasn't for the echo. At the corner where the noise was at its loudest, Logan stopped, pressing his back against the wall and peaking around. "Oh, no, okay, that's a dragon."

Virgil's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm gonna pet it!" Remus said, a little too loudly, as he surged forward, a little too fast. Logan grabbed his arm just before he made it around the corner, pulling him back.

"Remus, that is literally the worst idea you've come up with all day," Logan said, monotonously.

Remus pouted. "But, like, that was my entire reason for hunting down the dragon-"

"Remus, I don't know how to explain to you how much of a terrible idea this is."

"Well maybe if you let me try you'd see that it's actually a good idea-"

Logan opened his mouth to argue more, but stopped as he saw Virgil walk past them, heading straight towards the dragon. Shit. He let go of Remus' wrist and followed Virgil, trying to stop him as well, but it was too late. Virgil was right by the dragon's side, crouching down. "Virgil, come-"

"Shh," Virgil said, reaching a hand towards the dragon. "It's sleeping." His hand connected with the scales on the dragon's head, and he began to slowly stroke it, the dragon staying completely still.

Remus turned around the corner, slowly followed by Roman, looking incredibly disappointed. "Why is Virgil allowed to pet it but not me?"

"He's not," Logan said, folding his arms, but still softening his voice a little. The dragon did look peaceful, happy, and it wasn't... attacking them, or anything. Plus, if Logan wanted to get a drawing done and study it, having Virgil keeping it calm like this would be good. Eventually, Logan moved further into the room, sitting down with his back to the wall and taking out his journal, trying to draw the dragon to the best of his ability.

Remus seemed to take that as an excuse to go pet the dragon as well, whilst Roman went to sit down next to Logan, observing the situation and chuckling every now and then. After ten minutes or so, he turned to look, frowning at the drawing on the page.

"That sucks," he said, simply.

Logan glared at him. "I'm not exactly an artist."

"Yeah, but, like. It's right in front of you."

"You think you can do better?"

"Yup." Roman took the journal out of Logan's hand, pulled a pencil out of his bag, and began to draw, glancing up at the dragon every few seconds. And Logan had to admit, it was good. Roman had very clearly had a lot of practise when it came to art, and... Christ, yeah, it was pretty realistic. "See?"

"Okay, yes. That... is a lot better than mine."

Roman grinned.

"I'm, uh, I was actually planning on drawing out any creature we come across," Logan told Roman. "And also keep more scientific notes about them on the same pages. Do you- Would you be willing to draw everything for me? You are... very skilled, I have to admit."

Roman smirked. "Sure. Does that mean you'll be a monster hunter as well?"

Logan hesitated, before slowly nodding. "If you two are willing to let me tag along. I think it will be... interesting, at the very least."

"What about Virgil?" Roman asked. "Seems unfair if you come along but not him."

"Yeah, I don't want to die, thank you very much," Virgil said from the other side, still stroking the dragon, utterly entranced.

"You say that, and then you're the one stroking a dragon," Logan said.

Virgil paused, before continuing to stroke it. "Fair point. Okay, I'm in, or whatever."

Logan stood up, approaching the dragon and beginning to examine it. It looked... real, alive, it's chest slowly moving up and down as it breathed. Red scales, reptilian, similar to that of a snake. It looked... almost exactly how he'd expect a dragon to look, like it was straight out of a fairy tale. It was that detail that made Logan question just how real it was.

It could very easily have been a piece of machinery, just like everything else in this cave, perhaps something that had gone haywire. But at the same time, it was breathing, and the scales felt real, and... well, Logan guessed that he wanted it to be real. He wanted something... cool in his life, something extraordinary, something to prove that his life wasn't meaningless.

Perhaps living in this town wouldn't be so bad. As much as Janus was... well, as hard as Logan found it to trust Janus, he had certainly been better than... pretty much every other 'home' they had been in, although they had only known him less than a day. Roman and Remus were nice, at least, and Logan was excited to be able to work with them, to try to solve the mysteries of this town. The mysteries that Logan was sure existed, because, goddamnit, he was going to find them. With Roman and Remus around, he figured that probably wouldn't be hard.

Logan ended up stroking the dragon's tail, a wave of calmness rushing over him. This was nice. Things were nice. And... well, Logan could certainly see himself returning to this cave for more research, perhaps to study those machines more or even just to check out the dragon again. He wanted to know things, to learn things, and this seemed like a pretty good way to do that, to discover the secrets of the world.

~*~

Patton was a little worried about Janus, to say the least. He'd left his house a while ago, returned home to wait for his nephews, but he'd been acting a little... odd. Janus wasn't usually so open about his feelings, and his past, and... anything, really. Even to Patton, Janus remained a total mystery.

A good mystery, Patton had found. He always enjoyed Janus' presence, probably a little more than he should have. He almost reminded Patton of his ex, before she... well, before things got bad between the two of them. Patton had loved her, that much he knew, but they hadn't been a good match. He hadn't loved her in the way she wanted him to love her. She had never wanted a family, just wanted someone to screw around with, really. Patton had wanted something long term, and... well, thinking back he probably saw her as more of a friend. He'd have been happy spending his life with her, but in a platonic relationship rather than romantic or sexual. He wasn't even into girls, although he didn't know that at the time.

Janus, however, was just a little different. There was that same feeling of wanting to spend the rest of his life with him, wanting to build up to the world with him in mind, but it was... stronger. Patton wanted more than just friendship with Janus, and... perhaps he did too. Patton hoped so, anyway. Only time would tell, though. It could have just been a silly crush, for all Patton knew, he'd had plenty of those in his lifetime. And Janus probably wasn't even interested - he had his own life to be focusing on, always busy with 'work' (whatever that was), and now he had two kids to be looking out for as well. It wasn't the right time, not just yet.

Patton sighed as he stared out the window, looking across the fields whilst washing the dishes. He had an alright life, he supposed. A nice town, a stable job, two brilliant children. There wasn't anything to complain about, not really. Still, a part of him wanted more.

~*~

The four 'monster hunters' (they'd have to think of a name for themselves, but that could wait for now) gathered around a lake in the middle of the forest, sitting near the edge. Roman sat with his sketchbook in his lap, his pencil gliding gracefully across the page as he drew the scene in front of him, the ripples spreading out across the water and the little trees in the distance, the few fluffy clouds in the sky. The rest of the group were sat around eating, looking fairly happy with themselves.

"Is this going to be a regular occurrence?" Logan asked, looking back and forth between the twins.

After a moment of silence, Roman shrugged, and said, "If you want it to be. Re and I come down here all the time, you're more than welcome to join whenever."

"No, I mean..." Logan sighed. "Exploring the forest. Finding weird things."

Remus grinned. "Yeah! We come out here almost every day!"

A small smile spread across Logan's face. "Alright. That is... satisfactory."

"If you end up getting me or my brother killed," Virgil said, "I'm going to murder you. I hope you know that."

"How can you kill us when you're dead?" Remus pointed out.

"Shut up."

"No one's going to die," Roman promised. "We know the forest like the backs of our hands. If anything does go wrong, we can just call Janus. He took down the dragon that first time, remember?"

Logan and Virgil exchanged a glance that Roman couldn't quite decipher, before Logan slowly nodded. "Yes. Of course."

Roman smiled. The other three smiled back. He looked back out across the lake, and sighed, feeling the wind brush his cheeks and smelling the freshwater in the air. Things were going to be great, he knew it. 

[catthedrawer]

Smell the Flowers - Aconite (1/16)

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*This story will be very angsty*

**The following is a list of what will very likely be within the story, Smell the Flowers.**

***Please be sure to read through the warnings, you have been warned in advanced***

WARNINGS

Major Character Death(s)

Graphic depictions of violence

Mentions of suicide

Possible suicide(s)

Possible self-harm

Blood

Murder

Alcohol Use

Offensive “jokes” by Eric Cartman

Bunny (Butters x Kenny)

Fluff 

****NOTE: This story is NOT meant to offend or marginalize any individual or group. This story is just meant to break your heart in about 20+ ways (oof)****

*****Please tell me what you think, and what you think could be improved, regardless of whether you liked it or not. I want to make the entire story as best as I can*****

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You can also view this story on my Wattpad (CATtheDrawer) or Archive account (CATtheDrawer)

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Smell the Flowers

Title: Aconite

Words: 5455

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August 21, 201X

Change is impossible. It has taken me awhile, but I’ve come to realize this truth about the world.

People are like gardens, they have an assortment of beautiful flowers in the beginning. They’re nice, and pleasant to be around, but over time they reveal the truth beneath the illusion.  Over time, those flowers wilt, and over time, it is ugly thorns beneath the rotting petals that are the real garden they were growing.

While this might be mistaken as the person has changed over time, it is actually that the person reveals who they were from the start. They are no longer able to hide beneath the charade of petals and pleasant fragrances or the innocence of their childhoods.

But despite that, I used to try to see the good in others. Maybe I hoped if I did that, I could then see the good in myself, but with every shove, every punch, and every string cut loose, I realized how fragile and shallow bonds really were.

People hurt for the sake of hurting, friends become bullies, and insecurities surface. The flowers that once bloomed with beauty wither away and die. Time rots away the illusions and reveals those carefully hidden thorns.

Every punch is an invitation for retaliation, but hitting back means getting hit harder. The moment I swing the teachers are already on me. Reprimanding me. Punishing me. Blaming me.

I'm not allowed to fight back, I can only smile and take it.

“You're not the victim, you're the problem.”

“You're too sensitive.”

“You don't know how to take a joke.”

“A pussy.”

Butters looked up in confusion at his only friend Eric Cartman. He was the only guy in South Park that would help him out, minus against bullies. He told Butters many times, when he asked, that if he got injured then he wouldn’t be able to help Butter out when he really needed it. Butters used to be skeptic over the concept, but over time he thought it made sense, and he didn’t want his only friend getting hurt because of him.

“A what?” Butters responded.

Cartman dug his fingers into the bag of chips and spoke again, “You’re a pussy, that’s the problem,” he shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth and laid back against the brick wall of South Park High. The two of them were located at the back of the school, the place where drug users, smokers, goths, ditchers, and delinquents would hang out all throughout the day. Right now Eric and Butters were occupying a small portion of this “secret” area during their lunch break.

Butters was the only one standing, more like pacing in front of Eric, “I am? H-how do I fix that?” Butters stopped just a little to the right of Eric and fiddled with his fingers. Today was August 21st, 12 p.m. this was the first day of his life as a high schooler. He was a freshman, a teenager, practically a man his father called him. But Butters needed to shape up instead of being pushed around so much…another thing his father told him.

“Easy,” Eric smacked his lips and licked his fingers, “if you’re pushed around because you’re a pussy with no backbone, then grow a spine. Punch a few people, stand up for yourself, join the dickheads and then they won’t ignore you, they’ll applaud you, duh,” Eric rolled his eyes and crumpled up the empty bag of chips.

“Oh gee Eric,” Butters shrunk back, “If I do that, I’ll get grounded again—“

“Yeah, see, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s your vagina talking,” Eric pushed off from the wall and leaned forward, “That makes horny guys want to screw with you because you’re a tight-ass, little pussy,” Eric did a crude motion with his fingers to “demonstrate” the action he was talking about. Butters fidgeted uncomfortably.

“Be more assertive and guys are less likely to fuck with you—now, could you throw this bag away and buy me like three candy bars?”

“Oh, ok, sure thing Eric...Thanks for the advice,” Butters took Eric’s trash and left. If his problem were that simple Butters would have fixed it a long time ago. But he couldn’t just change in the ways Eric suggested, he didn’t have the guts to be that kind of person.

He wanted to be nice, he wanted to be helpful, though maybe that was the problem. Maybe people didn’t like nice guys like him or found nice guys like him weird. As everyone grew older, people appeared differently.

Take Stan Marsh, for example, Butters would count him as one of the many people he thought was a friend growing up. As a child, he was an avid advocate against his father’s drinking problem but is now currently an underage drinker that often snuck away to the back of the school for a quick cig and swig.

Butters knew what Stan was doing was wrong and tried to tell Stan it was many times in the past but in response, Butters nearly had a half bottle of beer thrown at his head.

It didn’t get better from there either, all throughout middle school his reality seemed to change. The once closeness held by all of his “friends” dissipated into nothing more than a memory. And he was the only one that seemed to want that memory back. No one else minded the change, the revelations of personalities, the loss of certain friendships. All of it just became a part of their new life as preteens, and would soon, now, become a part of their new lives as teenagers.

How that came to be never revealed itself, but I tried to change. Ever since we all hit middle school the world spun itself upside down, and I was at the very bottom of it.

I don’t think I deserved this isolation, I don’t think I ever did anything to make people avoid me.

Maybe I was just unlucky, the easiest punching bag, the guy nobody would care for and nobody would notice.  But even so, I don’t think I deserved the isolation and mistreatment sentenced upon me.

Nowadays, there is more power in the names you are called than the person you are and less power in forgiveness you serve than the hate you spread.

I was told I should join the same people that ridiculed me.  Essentially become what has tormented me since middle school if I wanted to avoid those negatives for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t see when and where the problem would be solved if I did that.

Yet, at one point, as I processed the idea, it almost seemed like the solution. If I did as Eric said, I could have more friends again, I wouldn’t be ignored, I could be happy. There was a fleeting joy in my heart, but there was also this disgusting rotting hate too. Hate at myself for considering and enjoying an idea so cruel.

Was this the real me? Was I actually someone cruel enough to entertain such an idea of hate?

Was I already like them?

On Butters way into the school, he passed by a trash can, just what he needed. Though he was surprised to see the trash can was already overflowing with trash despite it only being the first half of the first day of school The sight of all the half-eaten food with several flies buzzing around made Butters want to turn around and find a less empty trash can. Hell, the smell was more than enough to put him on the brink of tears, but Butters quickly tossed Eric’s chip bag into the pile and left rather quickly. He only looked back at the vile container to make sure his trash had successfully landed in the pile and had not fallen to the floor.

No, I wasn’t, I would say to myself. I did what I was told.

I’m not like them.

I am good

Tears splattered onto the notebook paper. His pen was poised just as he crushed the period onto the paper. The black splotch larger than it should be. A built-up rage stored in one tiny, black dot.

Butters took a moment to breathe, he lifted his head and stared at the dark blue ceiling. Though it appeared black given the lights in his room were off and he only had one small light illuminating his desk.

He let out a shaky sigh and tried to calm himself, he couldn’t do this now, not yet. He had to finish writing first, and then...and then could he let loose.

Butters pushed away from his bedroom desk, the headache building in his head did little to ease his grief and hate. He was supposed to be sleeping, but he had other plans for tonight.

Butters wiped the fresh tears with the sleeve of his pajamas. He glanced out his open window and shook his head, he needed to finish first. Butters’ fist tightened before he hesitantly sat back down in his chair and continued writing.

Of course even as I write that, I know the lie I attempt to spread about myself.

I hated the names. I hated the abuse, but more than anything, I hated the loneliness. To lose everyone I had ever talked with to this plague of isolation and distrust made me angry.

Why was I the one suffering? What had I done to deserve this?

When I am alone at home, I would often imagine terrible justice upon all those that left me. I’ve even written some of the things I hoped would happen in the many journals my therapist makes me write.

The world is rotting, and all the people in it have rotted.

Including myself.

Butters tore out the page of his journal and crumpled it in one hand. He gnawed on the cap of his pen to stop himself from screaming in frustration. Everything he wrote felt sour in his mouth and couldn’t convey the real anguish and feeling in his heart.

It was pissing him off.

August 21, 201X

I tore out the other page, I’m not supposed to do that. I’ll tape it back in later, but let me write this first.

Butters hummed a little tune he made up in his head. He still was unsure about Eric’s advice, only frowning when he considered the possibility of it being the solution to all his problems.

When he entered the school, there was a vending machine immediately to his left, he was glad it was so close by as he wasn’t used to the school building yet. It was different than the elementary school and middle school and he’d already gotten lost during the first ten minutes of the school day.

Butters stopped humming as he dug into his pocket for some loose change and dollar bills to buy the candy bars. He knew Eric liked Hershey Bars a lot and luckily he spotted one.

“Hey, get out of the way, dick,” Butters jumped.

“Oh gee,” he turned to look behind him, it was Craig, “I-I’m sorry, I’m just looking for my quarters, I’ll be quick,” Craig wasn’t terribly mean to him, but he didn’t talk to Butters either. As far as he knew, Craig was too busy with his boyfriend Tweek.

“Just get out of the way, I’m not in a good fucking mood,” Craig growled.

“Just give me a minute,” Butters pulled out four quarters, he just needed one more for the Hershey’s bar--

Butters was slammed against the vending machine, he gasped for breath and dropped all his quarters. From the corner of his vision he saw one of them roll underneath the machine, “I said fucking move, I don’t think I should have to repeat myself to a bitch like you…”

Butters shakily nodded, he was shocked. Sure Craig was short, but he was still intimidating and angry looking, but he had never once raised a fist against anyone unless they were threatening his boyfriend.

Craig released Butters and Butters ducked away from the machine. It terrified Butters, whatever pissed him off was now being released on him, and in these situations, Butters found it easiest to duck his head and follow orders.

Craig was at the machine for quite some time as he bought more than an armful of chips and candy bars, and for some reason, Butters didn’t think he planned on sharing any.

“I...I need to buy some candy bars, I’ll be qui--”

“Shut up and stand there, or go to the other machine at the other end of the school,” Craig interrupted him. Butters couldn’t do that, he still didn’t know his way around school, and it would take too long. Lunch would be over by then.

“B--”

“Do you know why I called you a bitch?” Craig turned to Butters, Butters shut his mouth and shook his head, “It’s because you’re Eric’s little bitch. Everyone knows it, and you know what else everyone knows,” Craig hissed.

“N-no?”

“Eric is only using you, so a word of advice, quit being his bitch for god’s sake. People might actually talk to you if you weren’t such a cock sucking bitch.”

Butter’s eyes widened as Craig collected his armful of food and turned to leave.  Butters shook off the stunned expression he had as Craig continued to walk, “Y-You’re wrong! E-Eric is my friend, he...he would never use me!”

“Ha! Go suck a dick,” Craig answered.

Butters hated how life had changed. He remembered the good times he had with Craig growing up, despite his cynical and monotone behavior, he’d always been someone Butters was glad to call a friend. Underneath it all, he was a good guy, but now…

Butters sighed, Craig was wrong.

This entry is my goodbye, but that seems sudden and unexpected.

I’m supposed to write more about my feelings on the events that occur in a single day, but there is nothing to really elaborate on. It is simple really.

I am angry. Betrayed.

Angry at myself for being so dumb and gullible, I really thought people could change. Even the worst person could grow to be better.

Even a guy like me still had a friend to rely on.

But even that was a lie.

“Dude, you’re a fucking dick,” Butters stopped walking. Lunch was nearly over and he was hurrying back to give Eric the candy bars he finally managed to buy. He was doing his best to put Craig’s words behind him, good friends would never doubt each other.

“No, you’re the fucking dick, don’t assume my intentions are anything but being a good friend to poor Butters.”

Butters pressed his back against the wall. He was pretty sure that was Stan talking to Eric.

“Quit the charity act you manipulative snake,” Stan scoffed.

“Hey! Butters is fine with it, he’s like my bitch dude, it’s cool. He’ll do whatever I say, no questions asked, like a dog wagging his tail for their owner, man,” Eric paused to cough, “Dude, can you..can you not smoke here in my face?”

There was a pause before Stan spoke up, “First, that’s just plain fucking slavery you fatass cunt, second, this is a free country and I’ll smoke wherever I please. Besides lunch is almost over and I don’t give a fuck about 5th period so I’m going to skip and smoke instead.”

“Hmph, hypocrite, smoking is illegal and you are wrong. I don’t own Butters, he just willingly does what I want. He wants to.” Eric commented smugly as if he caught Stan red-handed and beaten him at his own game.

Stan scoffed, “He wants to? Only because he thinks you’d do the same for him,” Stan’s words were followed by Eric coughing. Butters imagined Stan blew smoke into Eric’s face.

“Screw you man! I was here first, and I’m waiting for Butters to bring my candy bars!”

Butters stayed hidden, he couldn’t turn the corner just yet, Craig’s words made it impossible.

“I hope Butters finds out what a dick you really are, you deserve to rot alone.”

“Yeah?” Eric sneered, “And where is that loser supposed to go? If it wasn’t for me he’d probably be some depressed shit hanging from a noose in some dark alley--”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Do you even have a soul?” Butter couldn’t help but peek as Stan raised his voice. His eyes widened as he saw Stan toss his cigarette aside and grab Eric by his shirt, “Suicide is not a fucking joke, you’re stringing Butters along in a false friendship. You’re going to end up killing him you piece of shit.”

“It’s not murder if it’s suicide,” Eric calmly replied.

Stan tossed Eric to the ground and pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I wasted a cig because of you, so just get lost before your ugly face pisses me off more.”

“I’m still waiting for Butters,” Eric enunciated and emphasized every other word in a slow drawl.

Eric should die, he didn’t deserve all the good things that happened in his life.

People can’t change into better people.

People can’t change into worse people.

You are what you are from start to finish, a predetermined destiny of good or bad, and Eric was one of the bad.

I know that now. I hate it, but I can’t do anything about it, because it applies to me too. I am a fool for believing in Eric, but I’ve been a fool from the start and will be until the end. But more than that, I’m just as bad as Eric, and the two of us will continue to rot until we are the most despicable beings on the planet. It’s fate.

But I can fix that.

I can make things better, even if only for a moment.

Butters took a few steps back, the candy bars in his hands forgotten in an instant.

Had everything been a lie?

Butters head hurt, he stumbled backward and dropped the candy bars without realizing. He turned and ran away, where he was going, he didn’t know.

Everything he held onto was stripped away in an instant, his last hope, his last friend. Gone.

Butters was alone, truly alone. He had no one...or perhaps, he never had anyone to begin with.

Butters clumsily slammed into the trashcan he’d seen earlier, the tears in his eyes had made it damn near impossible for him to see. The rotting trash stained his clothes and dug its way under his nails but he pushed his way past the pungent smell and slimy banana peels.

Butters kept running. He kept pumping his legs and gasping for air.

He was falling.

A single moment seemed to last a lifetime.

The ground broke away and the world was stripped from his sense as everything faded.

He was isolated in a void of empty black.

“No,” Butters whispered. It was only because of Eric he hadn’t given up on the world. The guy who as a kid was less than kind, yet, seemed to change ever so slightly into someone Butters could call a friend. He was the only one that stuck by him. The only one that tolerated him.

It was like he was standing on a desolate field; a single withering flower was the only life that remained. And at that moment that Butters realized the emptiness of his life, the smallest breeze tore away the last few petals away.

Butters was alone, withered, and broken.

Butters cried.

Little kids are pure and dumb. They laugh and cry and laugh and play. Their joys seemingly infinite, their problems foolishly forgotten.

The things we do as children stay with us as memories.

I remember being welcomed into a small group of friends when I was younger, but I also remember being later rejected by them as they looked for someone better than me. As a kid these sorts of things are supposed to be harmless, yet, it still hurt to be rejected like that.

Maybe that was the start of all this crap.

I was just a kid at the time, but in my frustration, I made a silly costume and donned the name of Professor Chaos. I wanted revenge on the society that had wronged me, on the friends who had left me. But I never went farther than a garden hose made to flood the world.

However, after I started the 6th grade, I celebrated my birthday.

No one came.

I was angry, I know shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, there must’ve been a reason why everyone forgot. At the time I was irrational and needed an outlet, a little terrorism as Chaos.

Harassment.

But it didn’t stop there. More and more it seemed as though people began to avoid me.

Friends became strangers.

Harassment evolved into vandalism.

Strangers became bullies.

Vandalism escalated to thievery.

It was fun and there was no one around to stop me back then.

The sound of a blaring honk woke Butters from his fear. The desolate he thought he was trapped in melted to reveal the bumper of a bright red SUV.

“Dumb kid! Get out of the road!”

Butters faltered, his voice hitched in the back of the throat. The words he tried to speak felt strangled in his mouth. Instead, his fingers gripped the street as he pushed off and ran.

He ran until his breathing labored and his footsteps began to stagger. Going home was his only option, by now the school probably called his home because he ditched, so he'd be grounded regardless.

The extent of my bravado was theft, but now I don’t think it matters.

I’m already rotting.

“Butters! I just got a call from your school! You ditched your class!” As soon as Butters opened the door he was met with the menacing glare of his father. His mother was in the doorway of the kitchen glancing at him with concern.

Butters ducked his head and sucked in a large breath. He was still reeling from all the running.

“It's your first day of high school! What do you have to say for yourself.”

Butters hesitated, this was always an invitation for ridicule, but his heart hurt so much he couldn't help the sudden onslaught of fresh tears.

For a moment the tension seemed to lessen and Butters looked up at his dad. His dad’s eyes softened.

“Go to your room mister, you’re grounded. Spend this time reflecting on your poor actions and write in your journal.”

“Y-yes dad,” Butters answered.

I made a list when I was younger. A list of all the people I thought were jerks. I wanted to keep note of all the people who made me angry, even though, I could do nothing to them physically during the day my alter-ego could at night. Even if it was as small as stealing their PS controller or drawing weiners on their homes.

I was fine with that. It helped me level with the world.

But I’ve made a new list. A list where Eric Cartman was the sole name on the list.

A “list” now of a person who I wish would disappear. A person who will disappear.

Butters curled up into his bed. It was still mid-afternoon so he couldn’t sleep. He just curled up and let tears slip out into a messy wet spot on his covers. He didn’t make a sound, it was almost like he had died.

He was finally alone. He had no one he could turn to now.

He had nothing left.

A guy with no future, no hope, no love.

Butters squeezed his eyes shut and hugged his knees close to his chest and choked back the noisy sobs he wanted to make. He couldn’t make a sound, this was his problem and his alone.

“Why…” he whimpered to no one but himself, he was, after all, alone.

He was back to the desolate field of empty happiness and meaningless promises. He was back to the never-ending loneliness that plagued his nightmares, his sole fear in life a reality. He felt sick to his stomach as it felt like someone had taken a stick and decided to churn and mix up his insides.

Butters stopped crying. He stopped whimpering. He opened his eyes and there was a twisted fire in them. A maddening desire lit inside his soul.

He had nothing left, he had no reason to hold back the carefully hidden cruelty behind his own fists.

Butters crawled off his bed and kneeled on the floor.

There was no longer a need to lie to himself, no longer a need to pretend he was good. He was bad. He was rotten.

Butters extended his arm underneath his bed and winced as he felt the ground until his fingertips lightly brushed a box.

He was angry. He was full of an unexplained hate.

With both arms, he reached for the box and pulled it closer. He then pried the lid off the top of the box and tossed it aside.

He was Chaos.

People don’t change, they grow more into the roles they were meant to hold.

Just like Eric’s, his thorns were fully exposed for the world to see.

Eric is a backstabbing, shell of a human. That will never change, but even someone like me can make the world a little brighter. All he had to do was…

Chaos stalked the small town streets, his mind was practically empty. He was running on pure hate and an empty stomach alone. He had only one thought in his head.

Kill Eric Cartman.

Underneath his helmet, his eyes were red from crying. His hands were numb from writing and rewriting in his journal at home. This was his final stand as Chaos, and he hoped that the world would at least bless him with this one miracle, this one chance to rid the world of two evils.

Chaos pushed open the door to the store.

“What can I do for ya!” Chaos noticed the flicker of confusion that crossed the owner’s eyes as he saw the way he was dressed, but he was quick to shrug it off. Chaos felt a sudden shiver, a sudden urge to turn around and forget he ever had the idea, but his legs continued moving forward.

“I...I need a gun,” As much as he would like to strangle Eric himself or even stab him to death, he doubted he’d get very far before Eric overpowered him. The sooner he could kill Eric, the better, no chance for error.

“Sure thing, any specifics?” The man behind the counter was called Jimbo, he was the half-uncle to Stan Marsh.

Chaos felt his heart racing, he was doing it, he would do it, “A handgun?”

Kill Eric Cartman.

He needed to keep that mantra in his head, remember why he was doing this, remember everything he’d done to him. He could do it.

Chaos watched as Jimbo picked out a gun rather quickly and brought out a small and slim gun of black color. He placed it on the counter, “How about this lovely Glock G43…” Chaos drowned out the rest of Jimbo’s description.

He picked it up without thinking, for some reason, there was no more fear or hesitation in his heart when he held the sleek frame of the gun. The object itself seemed to urge him onwards towards his goal. The smallest smile crept onto his face.

Kill Eric Cartman.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jimbo place several full magazines on the counter.

“This here is the ammo, the 9mm Luger designed by Georg Luger. You have a small little button on the side of your gun, the magazine release, that will allow you to reload. This weapon is an excellent choice for self-defense and easily concealed.”

Chaos reached for the magazine but a hand stopped him, “Whoa there buddy, you haven't even paid yet.”

Chaos glared at him, “I need it,” he said. He was so close. He gritted his teeth and paused, for a moment, he loosened up and was about to place the gun back on the counter. Jimbo eased up and in that second his fist flew to meet Jimbo’s chin.

Jimbo stumbled back in shock. Chaos fumbled with the magazines before grabbing a few and running.

Kill Eric Cartman. Kill Eric Cartman.

“Hey, you costume freak, get back here you piece of shit!” Chaos ignored him and shoved the magazines into his pocket. Now he just needed to make it to Eric's house before...before he ran into him.

No doubt the moment the police report came in he would be looking for him.

I've given up on this world and the people in it. I never really saw myself in a good light, but I always had someone that made me feel worth something…

Of course...all that has been stripped away. If I could take out every asshole in the world, I would. Then maybe I will have done some good for everyone here.

But I only have one chance for one person.

I’m sorry dad for being a terrible son.

I’m sorry mom for being a disappointment.

I’ve let everyone down to the point they’ve left me and instead of manning up I was a coward and did crime.

I’ve accepted my role in this world and will live it until the last.

Chaos was shaking as he walked. He stole a gun, never before had he done something so insane, but here he was. He could hardly focus and it felt like his chest was going to burst due to how hard his heart beat inside his body.

Kill Eric Cartman.

Kill Eric Cartman.

Kill--

Chaos looked up as he stumbled through the street. The moon looked so very nice with all the stars surrounding it. He shivered at the slight breeze, he wanted to take in this sight one last time. Even though he has walked these streets so many times, it never felt this fresh and new to him before.

Chaos stiffed as he heard a gasp in front of him. His eyes widened and he looked down towards the street, a woman was standing there with her hand’s over her mouth. Her eyes were fixated on him--no, on the gun.

The woman took a few steps back, “W-wait, stop.” He took a step forward but she spun around and rain dropping her bag in the process.

“Stop!” Chaos chased after her, but his feet caught on each other and he slammed down into the ground, “No!” Chaos raised his gun; he didn’t have a choice. It was all for the greater good, there was no reason to doubt himself now.

The gun clicked and Chaos realized he never loaded it. He cursed and pushed himself up and ran after her. He could still see her, he couldn’t let her report him. He couldn’t let himself be found yet, not yet. He was so close. So close.

Chaos fumbled to load his gun. He dropped one magazine in the process but kept running, “Dammit!”

“Stop running!” He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. He just…

Butters bit back a sob and raised his gun again. He fired.

There was a scream and Chaos stopped, he trembled and stepped back. The woman was sobbing as she limped away. Chaos turned away and ran into the nearest alley.

“No!” he screamed underneath the casted shadows in the alley.  His body slammed against the brick wall and he dropped the gun. It thudded on the ground, what had he done? He...shot...someone. It wasn’t even Eric! It wasn’t even himself! How could he let himself do that?

Chaos screamed, turned, and punched the brick wall he slammed into. Once. Twice. Thre--he stopped before the third time. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding, his body shook uncontrollably. Tears splattered onto his other hand and Chaos looked down. Even though only one hand was bleeding he felt as though both hands were covered in it. His knuckles were almost glowing white because of how tightly he clenched his fists.

He was bad. He was truly bad and it was unforgivable.

There was a thud and Chaos stiffened; he spun to face the sound. He took one step towards the sound and stopped.

In a world of rot, there are no pretty flowers to smell. There is only the trash left behind.

-Butters Stotch

“A gun, huh? Didn’t peg you as a killer, Chaos.”

I really hope you all enjoyed this and keep an eye out for the future updates. These chapters do take a bit of time to write (this one went through 2 drafts before being completed in 1.5 weeks or so)

[Table of Contents]   [Next]

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Bet - Part 2

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Pure smut. Not even trying to hide it. Language, NSFW (ALSO - some Beth hate. Deal with it or don’t read it.) 

Plot: Circa Season 4 - the reader is friends with Maggie and likes Daryl. Maggie and reader make a bet about the archer.

Words: 8710

A very long winded part 2 to The Bet. Sorry so long, oh well... Enjoy!

Daryl’s kiss lingered on your lips even after he finally pulled back from you. The idea that you were starting to feel something scared the shit out of you, and it wasn’t something you could deal with. You decided to just enjoy this moment and deal with that crap later.

“Thank you,” you said to him before he turned towards the door.

“For what?” Daryl asked picking up his crossbow.

“For getting me out of a month of garden duty,” you said with a wink and walked past him out of the cabin to head back home.

The hike back from the cabin was quiet as Daryl led you back through the trail towards the prison. Before you revealed yourselves from the tree line, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention.

“Daryl,” you said coming to a halt, fingers lingering on his bicep. “Before we go back in there…”

Daryl smirked and looked at the ground, face slightly flushed and red. You couldn’t tell if it was from the heat outside or the heat from what happened in the cabin.

“Um, I just don’t want things to be weird between us. I mean, it was just sex, right? We don’t gotta make a big thing about it.”

“Yeah,” he said finally meeting your eyes. “Just a quick roll in the hay, right?”

“Exactly,” you said and offered him a relieved smile. “I just hope we’re good.”

“Nah, we’re good,” he said and walked back towards the prison. He paused after a few steps, turned to face you again and leaned in closer. “But, anytime you wanna go hunt…” he cocked his head towards the woods, “just come find me.”

His incredibly close proximity caused your whole body to flush hot and yet, despite the heat, it made your skin break out in goosebumps. Daryl noticed the reaction you had and raised an eyebrow at you.

“And,” he said squaring up to you, taking your chin between his fingers, “remember what I said, you don’t need to lure me out there for the other stuff…” his kiss took you off guard, and your loins had an immediate response to the sensation of his tongue lightly grazing against yours, “…you can come find me for that too.”

When he released you from the kiss, you told yourself that that would be the last time. As much as you had wanted him, and still do…

GOD do I want him again already you thought as he turned and walked back to the prison, that would have to be the last time you let Daryl Dixon touch you, much less kiss you.

 Getting back late, you had missed helping Carol with the dinner rush. Normally curt and to the point, Carol didn’t mince words when she chastised you for blowing off your shift. After she walked away, you decided to try and make it up to her by cleaning down the barbecue and getting it ready for the breakfast bunch in the morning.

The sun had blessedly set, leaving only traces of burning embers in the sky. As the last bit of light fell behind the west wall of the prison, you set your sights out across the field where you could just make out Rick, Carl and Hershel walking through the crops.

“He ain’t out there,” a voice rang out from behind you making you jump. Maggie placed a hand on your shoulder and laughed at how jumpy you were.

“Jesus Maggie,” your hand over the thudding heart in your chest, “gave me a damn heart attack.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, but I couldn’t help myself. You were so lost in thought…” her eyes grew as big as saucers and she playfully smacked you on the shoulder. “What happened today?! Did you find the cabin? Do I have to start extra shifts in the garden?”

Her excitement was palpable and you smiled at her enthusiasm for your conquest.

Before you could answer her, your mind flashed to that afternoon in the cabin with Daryl. Your face immediately flushed thinking of his raspy growl in your ear, how his fingers felt on your skin... But also, how you felt when he kissed you before leaving.

It was different from the straight up lust you’d both been tangled up in. That kiss, and the last one outside the prison stirred things up in you that you let go a long time ago. You had promised yourself you were never going to let love be the thing that ruined you again. When Daryl’s lips touched yours in a way that defied that rule you set for yourself, any thoughts of another roll in the hay had to be forgotten; as did Daryl.

“Y/N? What happened? Don’t keep a girl in suspense!”

“Nothing happened,” you lied. “We went hunting, did find the cabin, but I couldn’t get him to bite. Guess I’ll be pulling my own shifts for the next month.”

Maggie looked at you suspiciously, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “Hmmm, so you’re just gonna give up that easy?”

“Yeah, I mean, a girl can only put themselves out there so much, ya know? Besides, he’s nice and all but maybe he’s not really MY type,” you shrugged a shoulder and turned your back to her pretending to be busy so she couldn’t see the expression on your face. When you felt confident you could turn and look at your friend without betraying the truth of the situation, you smiled and said, “At least Bethy can have her shot now.”

Maggie shook her head and smiled.

“That girl is gonna be the death of me. You shoulda heard her today going on and on about him… something about his vest. I don’t know…”

Maggie’s words trailed off at the mention of the vest. Your hand absently went to you’re the place where the edge of the vest had fallen against your chest. Flashes of the afternoon wouldn’t stop playing across your memory. It took Maggie hitting your shoulder again to bring you back.

“Hey… that’s the second time you spaced out on me. I’m startin’ to feel offended,” she said smiling at you.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day,” you said and felt a yawn play at your mouth.

“Well, I am sorry it didn’t work out for you and Daryl. Maybe ‘nother time…” Maggie said as she turned to go inside. “See ya in the mornin’, ok?”

“Yeah, night Maggie,” you smiled at your friend as she went home to her husband.

Watching her go, you felt a bit of relief. Your body was worn, spent and sweaty, and begging for a cold shower then your bunk to fall into. The one thing you didn’t really want was to dream about Daryl, but your subconscious had other plans.

  You woke from sleep feeling tired and restless. Even after a cool shower and quiet cell to sleep in thanks to your roommate not being there, sleep had been elusive. Dreams of Daryl plagued you throughout the night, and when your alarm went off it felt as though you had just gone to bed.

After getting washed and dressed, you headed out to the canopy where Carol was getting breakfast on. You got to work handing out plates to the people emerging from their cells while Carol continued to monitor the grill.

Plate after plate was handed out and when most of the people were settled and eating, you took a moment to turn and stretch. Due to a restless sleep and the activities from the day before, your muscles felt sore and tired. When the slideshow of memories started playing in your mind of how they got to feeling that way, your heart didn’t want to think about it anymore. The smile that threatened the corners of your mouth, however, didn’t care.

“Anything left for me?” Daryl’s voice called from behind you as you stood up straight from a long stretch.

You turned around quickly, face flushed red from having been bent over, but also from his sudden presence. His eyes were all over you and when he saw how red you were, he didn’t even try to hide his satisfaction at your reaction.

“Uh…” you looked over to Carol who was chatting with Michonne about the outer fences, then back to Daryl who was staring at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Food… Y/N. Anything left?” He pointed down at the plates on the counter, his gaze never leaving you.

Going back to the counter, you grabbed a plate and filled it with what Carol had finished cooking. As you handed it to Daryl he let his fingers linger over yours, lightly brushing his fingertips over your hand.

“But, I’ll take anything else you got too,” he suggested just loud enough for you to hear him. Slowly sliding the plate from your hand, Daryl threw a few pieces of the meat into his mouth and walked away towards Carol and Michonne.

It wasn’t until he was standing next to them did you realize you had been holding your breath. Daryl noticed you still motionless, but eyes firmly on him. He offered you a subtle wink and engaged in their conversation about the fences.

You could feel yourself getting upset and sort of angry about how nervous he suddenly made you. Taking a deep breath you decided to step away for a few minutes to regain your composure.

Walking around the outside of the administration building you realized you were muttering to yourself. “How could you let this happen… seriously, what were you thinking? What made you think you could do this…?”

“Everything alright back here?”

You turned around sharply to see Daryl standing there with an amused look on his face as he watched you talking to yourself.

“Yeah, fine,” you said and flashed a quick smile.

“Don’t seem that way,” he said walking towards you. “In fact, you don’t seem ok at all. You’re kinda jumpy and nervous. Ain’t like you,” Daryl seemed genuinely concerned but was also giving you the same look he did in the cabin.

You had told him you didn’t want things to be weird, so it was time, to be honest with him. “Look, about what happened yesterday… I, um, I guess I didn’t think it would have the effect that it did.”

“Well, it’s what you wanted. Right?” Daryl moved in closer to you, “at least that’s what you told me… couple times if I remember right.”

“Yes, that is true,” you said smiling nervously. You felt your resolve starting to crack with each step he took closer to you. Now, he was just inches away and you were in a place where very few people from the prison walked through.

It would be nothing to grab him and kiss him. You wanted to demand that he have you right here. You didn’t care if he just pushed you up against the brick wall and took whatever he wanted from you. The look on his face told you he would agree to that in a heartbeat if he didn’t just make that first move himself.

Your hands were trembling; your chest was rising and falling with nervous energy much like in the cabin. Just being near Daryl caused this surge of yearning that began somewhere deep down and quickly boiled over, making it impossible to keep him at bay.

“So, if it’s true, why you gettin’ all shy on me all of a sudden?”

His hands were on each of your shoulders, fingers slowly working their way around to the back of your neck. Your body stiffened as he pulled you into him, but not because you didn’t want him too.

From the corner of your eye, a flash of blonde hair came bounding around the corner. You looked over to see Beth standing there, frozen, staring at you and Daryl. Daryl caught sight of her too and took a step back, removing his hand from your neck.

“Hey Beth,” you managed to squeak out, “need somethin’?”

“Rick is looking for Daryl,” she said flatly, her blue eyes staring daggers into you.

“Alright,” Daryl said, looking back to you, “to be continued…” he whispered and walked off to go find Rick. It was hard to not let your eyes follow him out but with Beth watching you, you were able to resist.  

The moment he was out of earshot, Beth marched at you, stamping her boots like a spoiled child. Her face looked like she’d just eaten a sour candy, twisted into a frown and her eyes were slits filled with rage.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Beth demanded.

“What are you talking about?” your head still swimming from the encounter with Daryl.

“Why can’t you just leave him be?” she cried at you, no tears were falling but she was getting more and more upset. “He’s a nice guy!”

“So, that means I can’t talk to him?” Frustration was growing, but out of respect for Maggie and Hershel, you were trying to be kind and calm.

“No!” Beth shouted, her voice getting louder. “You don’t get to have the nice guys!”

Shaking your head in frustration, you started to walk away from her and back towards the kitchen. She followed you, clearly not ready to let it go. As you rounded the corner where people were eating breakfast, she continued her barrage at you.

“You shouldn’t be talkin’ to him like that!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned to face her.

“Like that? Like what? Just be careful little girl, I am trying to be nice here, but you are makin’ it really hard.”

You felt yourself reaching a place where you may not be able to pull back from. Between the intense heat, Daryl’s effect and Beth’s tantrum, you felt like your top was going to blow.

“Little girl?” Beth laughed to herself, “I’m the little girl? You’re the one acting like…” she paused looking for the word she wanted.

You crossed your arms over your chest and waited for whatever comment was coming.

“Like what?” You asked with a raised brow.

“A slut!” Beth shouted. “You act like a damn slut!”

“Beth!” Hershel yelled from across the kitchen startling both of you.

You and Beth both turned at the same time to see him standing next to Maggie, Rick and Daryl. Rick and Daryl exchanged a confused look. Maggie’s brow was furrowed, her eyes fixed on Beth in disbelief. Beth turned to look at you and threw you a nasty look before running off to her cell.

Maggie called after her, but she didn’t stop. Speaking softly to Hershel, Maggie started walking towards you, while Hershel went after Beth. Daryl took a tentative step towards you, then looked back over his shoulder in the direction Beth ran in.

“What the hell was that about?” Maggie asked as she approached you.

“Not here,” you said looking around at all the people staring at you, “come on.”

You grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her around the building almost to the exact spot you were just at with Daryl.

   “Alright, spill,” Maggie said the second you were away from the crowd.

“Maggie, this is all such a mess,” you slumped down and sat on the asphalt. Resting your head on the wall behind you, you turned to look at Maggie as she sat down next to you.

“What the hell is going on?” your friend asked placing a hand on your arm to comfort you.

“I lied to you last night, when I saw you after dinner,” you confessed, eyes cast down to the ground. Shaking your head slightly, “… it’s all so stupid.”

Confused at first, Maggie’s expression changed when she realized what you were talking about. A huge grin broke out on her face and she playfully hit you.

“Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me?! You did it, didn’t you?” Maggie clapped her hands together and laughed heartily. “I have so many questions! But,” she paused trying to choose the which one to ask first, “I don’t get why you would lie. All jokes about the bet aside, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t matter really, just something I thought better to keep to ourselves. But today, Beth caught us talking…”

“Talking?” she repeated and snorted a laugh. “She got mad because you were talking to him?” Maggie shook her head and sighed.

“Well, to be fair, we were in very close proximity to each other… and his hands were on my neck, our faces were like this far apart,” you held up your fingers about two inches apart.

Maggie slowly turned to look at you, her mouth open in surprise.

“No! Are you serious?” Her patented Maggie Greene smile plastered across her face. “Shut up! I can’t even imagine the Daryl Dixon I know behavin’ like that.”

“Guess Beth couldn’t either. The second he walked away she just kind of laid into me.”

You thought about how she took the vest from his bunk and how adamant she was about you steering clear of him. Her crush on Daryl was obvious, but it was also getting out of control.

“She…” you hesitated, but realized that Maggie needed to know just how far Beth’s infatuation had gone. You continued with a sigh “…Beth took Daryl’s vest from his bunk and was going to wash it. He thought it was missing. He had no idea where it was. So, that means she snuck in when he was either not there… or worse, when he was sleeping?”

Maggie exhaled deeply and laid her head back against the bricks.

“Maggie, you might want to talk to her. There’s no love lost between me and your little sister, but I don’t want to see her get hurt or do somethin’ stupid. She’s a good kid, just sorta misguided I think.”

Maggie nodded in agreement. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Make sure she just gives you and Daryl some space.”

“No, no… not necessary,” you spoke up, waving your hands back and forth. “Daryl and I don’t need space. It was a onetime thing.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but when you met Maggie’s eyes again you could see that she saw right through you.

“Yeah, ok,” she said shaking her head and snorting a laugh. “That’s a conversation for another day. Come on, we got work to do.”

Maggie stood up and offered her hand to help you up. The two of you started walking back towards the front of the building, but she turned, putting a hand up to stop you.

“I have one more question,” she said, shielding her face against the sun.

“What’s that?” you sighed

“How was it?” her devious little smile made you laugh and you pushed her away playfully.

“Conversation for another day Greene. C’mon, we got work, remember?”

   Later that afternoon, Daryl was laying on the ground under one of the cars repairing a brake line that got damaged on a recent run. He pulled himself out from it and stood up, releasing the jack and setting the car down as Maggie and Glenn were walking by.

“Hey,” he called out to get them to stop, “Maggie, hold up a sec.” They both turned around and waited for Daryl to catch up.

“Mind if I steal your wife for a minute?” Daryl asked Glenn.

“Yeah, sure,” he said to Daryl, then turned to Maggie. “I’ll be out by Tower 3. Rick wants to start getting supplies for the east side fences now.”

“Ok,” Maggie smiled and kissed him before turning back to Daryl, “What’s up?”

“Beth alright?” he asked quietly, concerned for her state of mind. Thinking back to how she had been on the farm, he knew how emotional she could get and didn’t want to see her try and hurt herself again.

“Yeah, she’s just embarrassed. She’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Daryl paused, wanting to ask Maggie another question, but he was having a hard time forcing the words out. “So, this morning… what was that all about?”

Maggie scrunched her face in a wince of discomfort and tried to offer Daryl a smile. “Well, it was about you.”

“What about me?” he asked, his body language leaning towards the defensive.

“It’s just that Beth doesn’t like Y/N very much. She sees her hangin’ round you…” she sighed and shook her head slightly in frustration. “She’s still just a kid sometimes, ya know?”

Daryl nodded in understanding, but not without a bit of frustration. “I get it,” he mumbled, biting on his lower lip. He furrowed his brow and looked at Maggie.

“What else is on your mind?” she’d known him long enough to know when he was working something through. Daryl hesitated and Maggie gave him the time to find the words.

“What’s Beth’s problem with Y/N?” he finally had the courage to ask.

“Honestly, I wish I knew. Goes back to when we were kids I guess. Beth always had a problem with Y/N hangin’ round Sean. It was always kinda funny though, never got to anything like that,” Maggie said motioning towards the kitchen. “I’ve never seen Beth that mad. But like I told Y/N, I’ll talk to her, get her to cool it.”

“You talked to Y/N about it already?” Daryl couldn’t help but blush a little and wonder just how much Maggie knew.

“A little,” Maggie smiled at Daryl’s reaction but didn’t want to embarrass him any more than he clearly already was. “Look, don’t worry about it, ok? Beth… I’ll talk to her… and be sure to tell her to stay clear of your bunk when you’re not there.”

“What’s that?” Daryl asked, placing his hands on his hips and staring at Maggie. “What the hell you talkin’ about?”

“Your vest. Y/N told me she found Beth ‘bout to wash it. She shouldn’t have taken it without asking. I know she meant well but, sometimes she gets carried away…”

Daryl’s frustration was hard not to see. Maggie offered him a sorry smile and turned when she heard Glenn call her name from down in the yard. She threw her hand up in a wave and motioned that she needed another minute.

Daryl nodded once and motioned with his chin towards tower 3. “You better catch up with Glenn. Don’t want to hear his shit later ‘bout keeping you too long.” He tried to joke with her, but she could tell his was beyond irritated.

“I’m sorry about Beth, Daryl. But, for what it’s worth, I think whatever is happenin’ with you and Y/N is pretty amazin’…” she couldn’t help when the grin spread across her face, “It’s good to see her smile again, especially after all she’s lost.”

Maggie’s attention was back towards Glenn, so she didn’t see the confused look on his face. Daryl hadn’t known anything about your life or family other than that you knew the Greene’s. He thought back to what you had said about it being a onetime thing, and how you’d behaved when he approached you that morning.

Lost in thought, he barely gave a nod when Maggie said goodbye and left to meet up with Glenn.

  Laying your head down on your pillow, you closed your eyes and tried to forget the day. Your roommate was already well into her nightly routine of deep sleep snoring, and despite the exhaustion you felt, you could not sleep.

A soft tapping on your cell door caused you to get up and peak around the curtain. Daryl was leaning one shoulder against the bars, his hands fidgeting together. Despite everything, you were happy to see him. You flashed him a weary, but sweet smile and stepped out into the cell block.

“Did I wake you?” he asked in a raspy whisper.

“No, I was up,” suddenly aware that you were in the middle of the cell block without being completely dressed dawned on you. “Um, give me a sec, ok? Just want to throw on some clothes.”

Quickly stepping back into your bunk, you kicked off your pajamas shorts and put back on your jeans as well as grabbed a bra and clean black t-shirt from under your bunk. Throwing on your boots and taking a second to tidy up your hair, you stepped back out to see him standing in the same spot.

“Wanna take a walk with me?” he asked quietly.

Oh shit, you thought, here we go… Daryl’s hand reached out for yours. You hesitated for a moment and decided to take the chance and take his. He led you through the winding corridors until you were at the exit that led to the courtyard.

The night air was blissfully cool compared to the stagnant air of the cell block. A light breeze came along, lifting the strands of hair from your neck. The moon was covered by a cluster of clouds that allowed just enough permeation of light so you could see Daryl’s face.

Just go back to bed… walk away, the logical part of you repeated over and over, yet no part of you could physically do it.

Daryl continued to lead you through the courtyard and down to where all the vehicles were kept. As you neared his motorcycle, you realized there were two backpacks on the ground against it. Before climbing on the bike, Daryl opened one of the backpacks and pulled out his poncho.

When he held it out to you, his eyes locked with yours and you took it without hesitation. His silence was slightly maddening but in a way, that added to the tension you always felt around him. Even after spending that afternoon in the cabin, the strain that was always present was part of what made being around him feel so exciting.

You put on his poncho and watched him climb onto the bike. You grabbed the bookbag and slung it on your back and took your place behind him. With your arms firmly wrapped around his waist, Daryl flipped the ignition, started the bike and slowly maneuvered it down the path to the main gate.

While you waited for Tyrese to open the gate, you leaned forward close to his ear.

“Where are we going?”

“To hunt,” he said before powering through the entrance.

   Less than an hour later, Daryl turned off the road down a long, winding driveway that went on for a mile or more. The light from the bike revealed a large log cabin, complete with wrap around porch, stone chimney and porch swing by the front door.

The outside was littered with debris and garbage. An abundance of thicket and brush had taken over a good part of the porch. The windows were all blacked out, and there were chains linked across the front door. You looked around and wondered why he would bring you here.

“What is this place?” you asked. Daryl didn’t answer, he just parked the bike near the side of the house and took your hand again.

You followed him up the rear steps of the porch and waited for him to expertly pick the lock. Once inside you were awed by what you saw. Despite the rough outside, the cabin was nearly perfect inside. The sparse furniture was clean and intact throughout each room, and the best part was, there were no walkers or corpses to deal with.

Daryl closed and relocked the door behind you. You were looking out the plate glass window at the back of the room when he wandered back to you. He gently stripped the backpack from your shoulder and helped you take off the poncho.

“Daryl, what are we doing here?” you wanted to trust him, but his lack of communication was beginning to become unnerving.

“That cabin we were at before, that was Maggie and Glenn’s place,” he said, a sly grin forming on his face at your expression of surprise.

“You knew about that?”

“Yeah, who you think found it for ‘em?” he laughed. His hand came up to the side of your face and brushed away a stray hair. “You were right what you said, about not being able to do something like that back home.”

Your face flushed red at the mention of your tryst in the cabin, but it grew hotter when Daryl’s hand went to his favorite spot on your neck. His thumb rubbed the front of your throat lightly, while his grip kept you close, but with still enough distance to be slightly exasperating.

“I was thinkin’ today how it’d be nice to have a place of our own. Maybe one that Glenn and Maggie ain’t been shackin’ up in.”

“Daryl…” you wanted to tell him no, that you couldn’t do this with him. But as he drew you into him that last bit of resolve shattered, and you were ready to completely belong to him.

“What? You gonna feed me some bullshit line again ‘bout how it was a onetime thing?” his voice was low and intoxicating.

“No, I mean… yes. Yes, that’s what wanted to say,” he leaned his face into yours, close enough to kiss him, but he didn’t try to yet.

“So, you had some fun and now you’re done with me?” There was something in his tone that made a shiver of excitement run up your spine. “Huh?” he asked with brows raised as his thumb continued to lightly stroke that spot at the bottom of your neck.

“I didn’t think…” your words were lost in the heavy breaths escaping your lips.

“Nah, you didn’t,” Daryl’s left hand ran down the length of your body, resting on your hip. He slowly pulled you in the last couple of inches until no light could be seen between you.

“Wait. Please,” y/e/c eyes pleading with him to hear you. He gave you a small measure of space, but didn’t stray far from you. “I didn’t think about what this meant… being with you. I didn’t think about what may happen.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed and he tried to study your face for an explanation. Swallowing hard, you stepped away from him and towards the windows at the back of the room. Finally turned to look at him, you mustered all the courage you had and tried to explain.

“See, at the beginning of everything, I lost everyone. My husband, my kids, my home. It took a long time to be ok again after that. Fast forward a year and I stumble into a place where I actually know people; a place that is safe. I felt like I got my bearings, and then there you were. I have wanted you since I first laid eyes on you…” you were rambling and nervous, but knew he had to understand where you were coming from.

“You threw me for a loop Daryl. In all my life I have never, ever felt anything like it. Not even with my husband. You brought something out in me that I didn’t know existed. Never in my life would I have done something like I did the other day in that cabin. It’s just not me…”

Daryl was walking towards you, the moonlight giving away enough to see the smirk on his face. When he was within arm’s reach, you took a step into him closing the gap even further.

“I just didn’t expect it to make me feel more than I wanted. I can’t be much more to you than just an occasional good time. Not that this is necessarily something you wanted, but I know I don’t have it in me. I needed you to know that before this goes any further,” when your eyes locked with his, Daryl’s softened seeming to finally understand.  

“What is it that you want then?” he purred and brushed a kiss lightly against your cheek, letting his lips linger. Closing your eyes as his face brushed against yours, you knew there was no fighting the ache you felt for him.

“I don’t know, just not what Glenn and Maggie have. I don’t want another husband, Daryl. Didn’t work out so well the first time, and that was well before the world went to shit.”

Again, he took your chin lightly between his fingers. His beautiful blue eyes finding yours and drinking you in.

“This, doesn’t have to be that,” he said with a raised brow and half a smirk. “This can be whatever the hell we want it to be. You wanna be here with me like this, then go home and have it be life as usual? That’s fine. I just need you to promise one thing…”

Daryl’s face grew serious for a moment. He reached out and grabbed you pulling you into him again; this time with the same look of dominance he showed in the cabin. The very look that threw more fuel on the fire already burning out of control deep in your core.

“What?” The question came out slightly breathless as Daryl’s grip on you became firmer.

“There ain’t no one else that gets to touch you like this,” he growled low into your ear and ran one lone finger lightly down your breast and across your nipple. “You don’t have to be my girl, you don’t have to be anything more than you wanna be. I ain’t looking to be anybody’s white knight, or husband… But, when it comes to us like this, I don’t wanna share ya.”

“I can promise that,” you said and biting at your lower lip. Your need to have him was growing and you didn’t know if giving in, even with him understanding your limits, was a good idea. “You sure you don’t care that…”

“The only thing I care about right now,” Daryl said, cutting you off and circling around so he was now standing behind you, “is how many rooms of this place I get to have you in tonight.”

He brushed your hair off your neck and pushed it to one side. His mouth was on your neck nipping and kissing from your collarbone to your ear. His hands were reaching down in front of you, grasping at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

You stepped forward and turned to look at him. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you could tell he was getting anxious for you. Walking across the room towards the small hallway, you kicked off your cowboy boots and slowly unbuttoned your jeans. You turned to go down the hallway and slipped them off seductively as you moved towards the bedroom.

It took Daryl only a few strides to catch up to you. Before you knew it, he had scooped you up and had you in the bedroom. Throwing you down on the bed, he made quick work of getting his boots and pants to join the crumpled mess on the floor. He had your bra undone and on the floor in one quick motion. You sat up on your knees and helped unbutton his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his flesh against yours.

Once he was completely bare in front of you, you laid back on the bed and let him have you. No more words or worries about what could come of your time with him. There was nothing fast and furious like your first time with him. For the next hour, Daryl took his time, tasting every part of you.

When he couldn’t hold out anymore, he flipped you over, lifting your hips to meet his. Sliding himself inside you brought a moan to his lips that delighted you. Knowing you could make him feel that good excited you even more. Daryl was leaning over you from behind. His face buried in your hair, the weight of him rocking you back and forth making you feel a euphoric sense of satisfaction.

As he got closer to reaching his peak, he pushed his body down deeper into you, hitting that spot that made you scream for him. His broad shoulders covering your back, his arms and hands wrapping around yours, fingers entwined together.

“Oh.. shit… Y/N… What the fuck you do to me…” Daryl’s mouth was right at your ear, his voice barely a whisper, but it was enough to push you over the edge. You felt his cock start to throb inside you, and your body responded in kind.

Daryl bit down on your neck right blow your ear as he came inside you, causing you to squeal in a combination of pain and bliss. He sat up tall on his knees, pulling you up with him. His hands covering your breasts and pulling you into him as you allowed your bodies to unwind from the climax.

His breath still heavy in your ear, he left a trail of kisses from down your neck, and when he reached your shoulders, his tongue glided back up the same way causing your skin to break out in goosebumps all over.

“Fuck…” trying to catch your breath, you turned your head to see his face. Daryl’s eyes were closed, a broad smile unable to hid on his face.

“Yeah,” Daryl purred and buried his face into your hair, “a onetime thing… right.”

Leaving a few more lingering, hungry kisses on your neck, Daryl reluctantly released you from his grip and laid down on the bed. You laid beside him, but was sure to leave an arm’s length between you.

“Why you so far away?” he asked, his eyes heavy with satisfaction but also a touch of longing.

“I told you…” you said, sitting up on your elbow, but unable to look him in the eyes anymore, “I can’t be more to you than this… and if I buried myself in there,” you placed a hand on his chest, “I may never get out.”

Daryl reached over, moving hair that was covering your eyes.

“Like I said, this can be whatever we want it to be. I ain’t opposed to bringin’ this home, but I get where you’re comin’ from. I want you to be happy and comfortable.”

You smiled at him. No matter how badly you wanted to put the brakes on all that was stirring, you knew deep down that you might as well be riding in a runaway car.

‘Ain’t no brakes in this baby’ you thought as he smiled up at you.

   Daryl directed his motorcycle back through the entrance of the prison just as dawn was about to break. He parked in his usual spot and you climbed off once he killed the engine. The yard was still quiet, no one had emerged to start their day.

“I’ll catch ya later?” you asked before turning to head back to your bunk. If you were lucky you could catch an hour or two of sleep before you had to be somewhere.

“Mhmm, you will,” Daryl said with a little nod while chewing on his lower lip.

“Ok…” you turned to go, but could feel his eyes watching you walk away. You couldn’t help but turn back around and look at him. He was still straddling the Triumph, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed firmly on your body. He was still biting his lip but stopped when he saw you walking back towards him.

You grabbed his face with both hands and planted a kiss on his lips. You pulled away with a smile before he had a chance to kiss you back.

“Pick me up tonight and we’ll go see what other rooms we can christen at our cabin,” you raised your eyes brows and winked. Daryl licked his lower lip and lightly smacked you on the ass.

“You better go woman before I take you back there right now,” he growled. You came close to asking him too, but thought better about it. You needed to be able to hold off your growing feelings for as long as possible. After the night you just shared, the best way to do that would be with a little distance.

You turned to go, waving over your shoulder as you did. That image of Daryl sitting on his bike staying with you through your shower and the little bit of sleep you got that morning.

   After spending the morning out in the garden with Rick, Hershel and Carl, you headed up to the kitchen to help Carol put out lunch for the kids. As Carol left to go get more water from the pump, Maggie found you brushing off the grill.

“That looks fun,” she said wrinkling her nose at the grill, then looking at you. “Well, look at you… you look exhausted! Guess an all-nighter with Daryl will do that to ya.”

Maggie couldn’t help but look like the bird who ate the canary. Her playful eyes and smile made you laugh and shake your head. She picked up a piece of the bread that was left from lunch and popped a piece in her mouth.

“How the hell did you know I was out with Daryl?”

“Glenn and I spent the night in the tower. Heard the bike going out and then comin’ in at dawn. Don’t worry, no one else saw ya. Secrets safe with us.” Maggie winked and nodded ahead towards Glenn, who was across the courtyard talking to Rick about the fences.

You felt your face blush, and she shook her head in jest.

“So, you never did answer my question from yesterday,” she raised an eyebrow at you assuming you remembered.

“What question?” you asked playing dumb.

“How. Was. It? I mean, I don’t need exact details,” she leaned in closer to you, “but c’mon, give a girl somethin’ to work with here.”

Taking in a deep breath, you desperately wanted to tell her how earth shattering and life-affirming a romp with Daryl was. You also wanted to tell her that as hard as you were trying not to, feelings were there… real fucking feelings that you desperately wanted to go away.

“Maggie… it was not at all what I expected, but everything I could have ever wanted,” you said much more dreamily than you intended too.

“Good Lord,” she said somewhat mockingly. “I just can’t imagine Daryl… not that I think about him like that,” Maggie was wavering hands and you couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“Ohhhh, maybe I should go have a little chat with Glenn,” you teased and she swatted at you.

“You know what I mean! I am glad for you though, it’s nice to see you so happy,” she smiled sweetly at you.

“It’s just fun, Maggie. We aren’t together,” you said the words but had a tough time believing it yourself.

“Right, right… just casual sex with Daryl… got it,” Maggie said rolling her eyes and making an exaggerated OK with her fingers, completely dismissing your claim.

“Just sex?” a small voice chimed in from behind you.

You both turned to see Beth standing there, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes twitching back and forth between you and Maggie.

“What are you talkin’ about?” she asked Maggie.

“Nothin’ Beth, just having some girl talk with Y/N.”

“I can see that,” she said walking closer to where you and Maggie were standing by the grill. “You’re sleeping with Daryl?” her eyes now focused on you, her brow furrowed with anger.

“Beth, it’s really none of your business,” you were trying to be kind because Maggie was nearby, but lack of sleep and a general annoyance at her presence caused your fuse to be cut in half.

“I can’t believe you, why can’t you just leave him alone?”

“Beth!” Maggie shouted. “Stop! This isn’t any of your concern.”

“It is when I see someone I care about getting involved with someone like this,” she waved at hand in your direction and you knew if you didn’t walk away, someone was going to get hurt.  

“Maggie, I’ll talk to you later. I can’t deal with this right now,” you offered her a small smile and walked through the kitchen towards the courtyard.

“Yeah, just walk away!” Beth called after you, “That’s what you do, right?! It’s what you did to my brother, why not do it to Daryl too!”

That stopped you in your tracks. Taking in a deep breath, you turned to face Beth who was just a few steps behind you. You stared at her with such intensity you thought you saw her flinch. You took a few tentative steps closer to her so you were certain she would be able to hear you.

“I cared about your brother, a lot. But we were never together Beth. So, whatever you think you know about me and him, you don’t. And as for Daryl…” you moved in even closer so you could see your reflection in her eyes, “I have no plans on walking away from him, ever. As a matter of fact, I can tell you with complete certainty that he one of the best, most kind, surprising men I’ve met.” She stared daggers at you, which just made you want to keep digging at her. “Not to mention the best fuck I’ve ever had in my life.”

That pushed her over the edge. Before you could move, her hand flew out and smacked you across the face.

“Beth!” Maggie shouted running over to where you stood.

Shocked by her boldness, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Your cheek was bright red and stung like a bitch, yet you were still amused by her audacity and refused to give her a reaction. True, you had goaded her, but having known Beth since she was a little girl, you never thought she’d have that in her.

“What the hell is going on over here?” Daryl’s voice cut through the air.

You turned to face him and he saw the handprint now forming on your cheek. Beth stood motionless, half seething with anger and half shocked at her actions.

“Beth,” Maggie said, touching her elbow to get her attention.

“It’s nothing,” you said to Daryl shaking your head.

“That mark on your face nothin’ too?” he asked looking back and forth between you and Beth.

“She’s not a nice person Daryl, she’s never been. You don’t know what you’re gettin’ into with her,” Beth pleaded with him.

“That’s enough Beth, this is none of your business,” Maggie said quietly, trying to get her sister’s attention, but Beth’s gaze was fixed on Daryl.

He walked past you, giving you a quick once over of your cheek before stepping between you and Beth.

“Listen,” he said gently, “I get you’re just tryin’ to look out for me, but Maggie’s right. This ain’t none of your business.” Daryl turned back to look at you, and you could see a small flash of disappointment before he looked back at Beth. “Besides, me and Y/N, we’re friends is all. We ain’t together.”

“She said you were sleeping together, but used much more vulgar language,” Beth said, looking around Daryl, narrowing her gaze in your direction.

“Whatever we are, is between us Beth. You know I care about you, right? You’re family, just like Maggie and Glenn, and your dad. But this is gettin’ crazy. First, you went into my bunk and took the vest without asking, then you’re calling Y/N names in front of everyone. Now this?”

“You promised…” Beth said, no longer listening to Daryl. “You promised you wouldn’t tell him,” she shouted at you.

“I didn’t,” you said and shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter now, because you’ve already made up your mind about me Beth. I’m a horrible person. I get it. I screwed your brother over, and now I am just screwing Daryl. That’s enough for you to hate me, so be it.”

You turned to walk away and noticed a small crowd had gathered on the fringe of the confrontation. Rick and Glenn were watching with furrowed brows, as Michonne and Carol were approaching from around the outside of C block.

“See? She just walks away, especially when the truth hurts,” Beth yelled, trying to fight the tears back.

You felt like all eyes were on you. You watched as Glenn walked over to Maggie and turned around to look at Daryl. He was still standing between you and Beth, but his eyes were cast down to the ground, a look on his face you couldn’t read. But when he did look up at you, it was all you needed to realize what an ass you’d been. Everything faded away, including Beth and her accusations. You caught a glimpse of Maggie and Glenn standing together, hands interlaced with the other and you realized that you had been wrong the whole time.

You did want what they had. You wanted to fall in love again, even if it meant adding the potential to be hurt. Thinking back to the last few days you’d gotten closer to Daryl, it all seemed so clear. Your attraction to him was so much more than you realized. It went beyond his broad shoulders and sensual swagger when he moved. Your pull towards Daryl was because of who he was at his core.

“Oh, fuck it,” you mumbled as you started walking back towards Daryl, taking the biggest steps, you could to quickly close the distance. Before he could react, you through your arms around his neck and kissed him.

Without hesitation, he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you back. The second his lips were on yours, you knew you made the right choice. It didn’t matter that you were in front of everyone, Daryl kissed you deeply and you felt yourself smiling. He pulled back from you and rested his forehead on yours.

“You sure?” he asked in a rough whisper.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you kissed his lips lightly and looked beyond him. Beth had already stormed off towards the interior of the prison, unable to watch your display any longer.

Maggie and Glenn stood a few yards away smiling at both of you. Looking at Maggie with a quizzical expression, she started laughing.

“What are you laughing at Greene?” you asked, your arms still wrapped around the man that was now everything you said you didn’t want.

“Oh, well, I just won a bet, finally. I bet Glenn that you two would be together by the end of the week.” Without looking at her husband, she held her hand out flat while Glenn dug into his pocket while rolling his eyes. He pulled out a package of sunflower seeds and put it in her hand.

“You did what?” Daryl asked, looking between you and Maggie.

“She bet me you two would end up together. I didn’t think you would be, at least not for a while longer,” Glenn said shaking his head. “Last bag of sunflower seeds too. You guys really couldn’t hold out a while?”

You looked at Maggie, and you both starting laughing.

“Speaking of… I’ll cash in those days you owe me in the garden Maggie,” you turned back to Daryl and rested your head on his chest. “I may be a little busy in the next couple weeks.”

“What the hell are they talkin’ about?” Daryl asked Glenn, a confused expression on his face.

“I don’t know man, women are crazy sometimes,” Glenn looked at his wife who seemed unimpressed by his assessment. “Well, not you, but you know… most.”

Maggie grabbed Glenn’s hand and offered you a smile. “C’mon Glenn, let’s go look busy so they can have a moment.”

You watched them walk away, and when you realized that it was just you and Daryl standing alone in the courtyard, you kissed him again.

“That didn’t take long,” he said brushing a hair from your bright red cheek.

“Eh, I’m just a sucker I guess.” You kissed him again, and for the first time since you made the bet with Maggie, you felt completely at peace with the idea of allowing someone into your heart again.

As Daryl took your hand in his, he had a small smile on his lips. “Maggie dared you, didn’t she?”

You looked up at him surprised as you walked down the road that led to the main gate. “What? No…” you said blowing him off.

“Yeah, ok,” he said looking out over the yard, “just, remind me to thank her later.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed you on the top of the head. As you walked the last few yards towards the tower, you put your arm around his hips and smiled, ready to face your group of friends as a newly cemented couple.

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

As always, thanks for reading lovelies! xox

Tags: @kazosa @rhyatt-deauxtreve @redm81 @kingdixonreedus @youandyourstupidrope @aquivercactus

[tranquiltuesdays]

Finding Comfort in Tea in Ancient China and Now While sitting at home and finding comfort in tea during this pandemic health crisis, I have been thinking about the ancient nature of Chinese tea drinking. One of my favorite things about Chinese tea appreciation is its long storied tradition from ancient China until today. Trying to stay healthy and safe during a health pandemic, however, also has connected me to other ancient ideas: surviving a health crisis. I see a lot of people online rediscovering Boccacio’s 14th century “The Decameron”, the fact that Shakespeare and Issac Newton had to wait out the plague in confinement, or the 18th century book “A Journal of the Plague Year” written by Daniel Defoe. There’s definitely something fascinating about how living during a contemporary global pandemic health crisis makes you feel connected to these ancient health crisis like The Black Death or bubonic plagues. These ancient artifacts of disease and pestilenace are represented in my mind as such out of reach and outdated realities like Middle Age woodblock prints compared to our digital photographic present. While sipping Chinese tea in my apartment in the Bronx, right in the middle of the COVID epicenter in America, NYC in the spring of 2020, I started wondering about previous ancient crisis in China, in particular, and where tea fit in there. Surely there were pandemics in ancient China and surely there are ancient poems, paintings, or literature writings about tea in relation to crisis. With ancient China flourishing in the Tang Dynasty (618-907 AD), we are left with a rich amount of artifacts to rummage through and look for evidence and insights from ancient China. In the book “Tea in China, A Religious and Cultural History” by James Benn writes: “The values associated with tea today—that it is natural, health-giving, detoxifying, spiritual, stimulating, refreshing, and so on—are not new ideas, but ones shaped in Tang times, by poets.” But where to begin? I’m not a trained scholar in ancient Chinese poetry, artwork or literature. It takes me forever just to read an email in modern Chinese! It felt like googling in English to find artifacts about ancient Chinese crises and finding comfort in tea was like taking a handheld metal detector to the Pacific Ocean. So I turned to some scholar friends, namely Dr. Christine Ho, Assistant Professor of East Asian Art at U Mass Amherst, and Dr. Alfreda Murck, lecturer in Chinese Art History at Columbia University. Both Dr. Ho and Dr. Murck mentioned the famous tea poem “Seven Bowls of Tea” by Lu Tong, written in the Tang Dynasty. “Seven Bowls of Tea” is one of those texts that you see everywhere and its ubiquity almost renders it meaningless. It is, the kind of text you see excerpted and quoted in every single book about tea and especially Chinese tea, and the kind of text you see hanging on the wall of many Chinese teahouses. Is it the “Live Laugh Love” of Chinese tea? Almost. Anyways nevertheless it endures and has reached itself over 1300 plus years and halfway across the world into the consciousness of us here living our little lives in 2020 and into my own email inbox and computer screen in New York City, so it felt prudent to at least give it a new one over in the present moment. Poetry is a particularly important source for understanding tea in the ancient Chinese mind and culture. According to Benn, “Poets, as the cultural engineers of Tang times, had to invent a new world for tea to inhabit. Rather than create just a single cultural space, they made many, all of them interconnected to some degree.” So I read a translation which Dr. Murck sent me via email: SEVEN CUPS/BOWLS OF TEA Lu Tong (790-835AD) 一碗喉吻润 二碗破孤闷 三碗搜枯肠，惟有文字五千卷 四碗发轻汗，平生不平事尽向毛孔散 五碗肌骨清 六碗通仙灵 七碗吃不得也，唯觉两腋习习清风生 One bowl moistens the lips and throat; Two bowls shatters loneliness and melancholy; Three bowls, thinking hard, one produces five thousand volumes; Four bowls, lightly sweating, the iniquities of a lifetime disperse towards the pores. Five bowls cleanses muscles and tendons; Six bowls accesses the realm of spirit; One cannot finish the seventh bowl, but feels only a light breeze spring up under the arms. The one line that really did stand out to me, reading at the present moment is the second line: “Two bowls shatters loneliness and melancholy/二碗破孤闷.” As I began to contemplate the loneliness and melancholy that Lu Tong was describing I started connecting it to the loneliness many of us are experiencing as we are socially distant and isolated in our homes to prevent spread of COVID19 and help flatten the curve. When Lu Tong mentions melancholy it also feels so presently relevant to the societal wide melancholy or at least the palpable sense of dread, anxiety, and sadness that filled the air in New York City with the staggering death toll and round the clock sound of ambulances as it became an epicenter for the global health pandemic. While searching for different English translations of this second line “二碗破孤闷” in Lu Tong’s “Seven Cups of Tea” to compare to the first English translation I read, I came across a treasure trunk filled with shimmering jewels on the ocean floor of Google: the work of Steve W Owyang, his thorough and expert essays on this exact poem on Cha Dao (the most scholarly and nerdy of prominent asian tea appreciation blogs) http://chadao.blogspot.com/2008/04/lu-tung-and-song-of-tea-taoist-origins.html, and his own website Tsiophy (https://www.tsiosophy.com/). That moment when your handheld metal detector actually finds a gem in the ocean is truly an exciting one and it made my day. I poured through all of Mr. Owyang’s copious research and expert English translations that he generously shared on his website. We even started up a correspondance and he kindly pointed me in the direction of some poems on his website. Dr. Ho while also caring for a newborn baby (!), very generously pointed me in the direction of some books she thought me be helpful (that’s how I was able to find the previously quoted “Tea in China, A Religious and Cultural History”), and shared academic journal leads. Thanks to Dr. Ho sharing her academic pedigreed research abilities that really provided the backbone of this whole inquiry. Ok so all that research, thinking, and reading has illuminated a few ancient Chinese poems all 1000+ years old, related to finding comfort and solace in drinking tea that I would like to share with you. There is of course a lot of scholarship on the historical and cultural context of each of these poems and what each word might mean in relation to that but I will let you just read them without commentary and see how it might speak to you in the present moment: Joy at Seeing Tea Growing in the Garden Wei Yingwu (Tang Dynasty 618-907 AD) Its pure nature cannot be sullied, When drunk it cleanses dust and worries. This plant has a truly divine taste, And originates in the mountains. After I have taken care of my responsibilities, I plant a tea bush in my uncultivated garden. It is happy to grow with the other vegetation And to speak with a person in solitude. Translation in “Tea in China, A Religious and Cultural History” A Song of Drinking Tea on the Departure of Zheng Rong Jiaoran (Tang Dynasty 618-907 AD) The immortal Danqiu abandoned eating jade elixirs, Picking tea instead, he drank, and grew feathered wings. The world is unaware of the Mansion of Eminent and Hidden Immortals, People do not know of the Palace of Transmuting Bone into Clouds. The Lad of Cloudy Mountain blended it in a gold cauldron; How hollow the fame of the Man of Chu and his Book of Tea! Late on a frosty night, breaking cakes of fragrant tea. Brewed to overflowing, the pale yellow froth; I sip and am reborn. Bestowed by the gentleman, this tea dispels my suffering, Cleansing my mind from worry and fear. Come morning, the emotions of the fragrant brazier remain. Intoxicated still, we walk across the clouds reflected in Tiger Stream; In high song, I send the gentleman off. Translation by Steve Owyang After Eating Bai Juyi (Tang Dynasty 618-907 AD) Having done eating I go to sleep, Waking up, two bowls of tea. Raise my head to see the sun’s shadows, Already returned to being slanted in the southwest. A happy person regrets the fast disappearance of daylight, A sorrowful person feels sick of the slow passage of time. Those without worries nor delight, Simply let life be. Translation in “Tea in China, A Religious and Cultural History” And if after all that, you are like Charlene give me more ancient Chinese Tang poetry, I have more for you! In this month span when I’ve been working on this self-directed research paper (hahah, just me being me) I also learned from the New York Philharmonic Digital Mahler Festival that Gustav Mahler (Austro-Bohemian German speaking 19th-20th turn of the century classical music composer) himself was inspired by ancient Chinese Tang Dynasty poetry as a comfort to his own personal sorrows and crises. He composed his 9th symphony (its a long story how this is counted as 9th symphony or not vs just symphonic song cycle), known as Das Lied von Der Erde based on inspiration from German translations of Tang Poetry! You can listen to the music here with a spoken introduction on the background before the music starts. https://soundcloud.com/newyorkphilharmonic/sets/mahlers-complete-symphonies Ok so tell me what you think and how you felt reading these ancient Chinese poems about tea and what it means to you at the present moment while many of us are also turning to tea for comfort.

[midnightsramblings]

OCtober Day: 19 Clean

Universe: Canon Storyverse

Rating: T

Warnings: Blood mention, wound mention

________________________________________________________________

Colors bled into the sky as the sun broke the horizon.  Reds and pinks danced across the starry expanse as the morning’s first light lit up the vast field that surrounded Veralith’s home.  The immortal was currently curled up in one of the large chairs on their porch, wrapped tightly in one of their warmest blankets.  Even after over a year of being in the living world, they still did their best to never miss a sunrise.  That moment when color fully returned to the world was the most magical thing to them, beyond everything they’d witnessed in countless fights.  Color proved that they were still here, that their escape from that lifeless realm hadn’t been some cruel dream.

From where they were sitting, they could see not only the wild flowers but the garden they had planted in the first couple months.  They didn’t need to eat as much as humans, so it had started as a hobby, but considering the newest resident of their home, Veralith was glad they had it.

As the sunrise faded into the blue sky, Veralith pushed off the chair.  The cold morning air hit them as the blanket dropped and they muttered a curse.  Judging from the crisp smell in the air, winter was on its way and they made a note to acquire some warmer clothes for Sieti.  Iyandi had always loved the cold, both before and after they came to this realm, but they’d personally always hated it.  Cold meant stillness, an all consuming silence that made life so boring.

Sieti was still asleep when they went to check on him.  It had been less than a year since the young boy had first appeared in their mind, chasing their nightmares to the source.  Despite everything they had done, everyone they had killed, he’d offered to help them with the dark dreams that plagued them. The nightmares that had plagued them, memories and thoughts of the First, had almost vanished since he’d started living with them.  A part of Veralith wondered if that was the reason he’d argued to stay here.  Because he knew how much those actions haunted them.  Knew they wouldn’t fall back into that mindset without a fight.

“Time to wake up, Sieti,” they said, laughing softly as he let out a soft whine and curled tighter into his blankets.  “Casey’s going to be here in an hour to pick you up for school.”

Their relationship with Casey was still tenuous, but it was something they both put up with to protect Sieti.  The assassin was the one who had cared for Sieti for a year before Lucian had showed his true colors.  When the puppet master had tried to kidnap the boy for his power.  And while Casey was not one of those they’d fought as the First, judging from the stilted way he acted, he’d been filled in.  A part of them understood the caution, the bindings restricted their power, but it didn’t remove their hatred of humans.  Even with being trapped in this ‘protected sanctuary’, they knew the damage the species was doing to their world.  What they didn’t understand was why Iyandi still chose to protect the humans.

But it was still one of the few places safe from Lucian’s threads, so Casey could deal with it.

“No school today,” Sieti whined.  “Only warm blankets.”

While Veralith agreed with Sieti that warm blankets were superior to staying in one building and listening to people talk, they knew both of them would get in trouble if he skipped school.

With a soft chuckle, they bent down and scooped him out of bed.  Sieti let out a loud whine and tried to cling to the blankets.  After a moment, he gave up and curled closer to Veralith.

“It’s cold!”

“It’ll be warmer if you start moving,” Veralith teased as they walked towards Sieti’s closet.

“Would also be warmer if I stayed in bed,” Sieti mumbled under his breath.

Veralith laughed as they set Sieti down on the ground.  “Afraid that’s not an option.  Casey would tell Thema and then we’d both be in trouble.”

Sieti crossed his arms with a huff.  “Snitches get stitches.”

Veralith burst out laughing, clutching their sides as they had to lean on the wall for support.  At barely five foot tall and wearing colorful PJs with flying fish on them, Sieti wasn’t exactly the definition of threatening.

“Come on, I’ll tell you about the saber tooth kittens I found one year.”

Sieti’s eyes went huge and he quickly grabbed his clothes and headed into the bathroom.  For some reason Veralith had yet to understand, Sieti loved their old stories and they’d use the stories as bribes.

They kept the violent ones to themselves, of course.

The saber tooth story lasted them through breakfast, and they’d just finished when the knock came at the door.

In an instant, their mood shifted, twisting darker as they smelled Casey’s energy seeping under their door.  Normally it was a neutral energy, one of the few humans they could stand to be around.  Now they could sense Casey’s agitation, feel the tension that stretched his energy taunt.  It made their bones itch, their blood burn as their own magic slid back towards the aggression of the First.

Their breath came out in a rush as they dug their nails into their arm, focusing on the black blood that welled up.  “Sieti, do you mind getting the door and telling Casey he needs to chill?”

Sieti gave Veralith a look of concern as he hopped off his chair.  “You okay?”

“I will be.”  They gave him a tense smile, forcing themself to stay still.  Their energy buzzed, they wanted to move, to fight, to trade blows and tear into another creature as blood splattered their skin.

But they couldn’t.

They knew what it would cost if they gave in.

As soon as Sieti left the room, they doubled over with a growl.  Their claws dug into the wood of the table as they fought to keep control.  The bindings sparked and crackled around their wrists, gold marks sliding up their arms.  In the front hall, they heard Sieti open the front door, heard him say something before the rich iron scent of blood hit them.  For a split second they were the First again, green magic sparking across their skin as their lips spread into a too sharp smile.  They wanted to hunt, wanted to toy with the prey that had so foolishly wandered into their territory.

“Vera!”  Sieti’s voice broke through the blood lust haze and they clung to it like a drowning man.  “Vera, Casey needs help!”

“He’s going to if he keeps bleeding on my doorstep,” they muttered, too low for anyone to hear as they walked to the front door.  It took all their will power to focus on staying Veralith as they got closer to the rich scent of Casey’s blood.

The assassin was leaning against the door frame, hand pressed to his side.  Red seeped through his shirt and he glanced up at Veralith guiltily.  “They were trying to get in the barrier.”

Concern overtook the blood lust and their gaze shot to Sieti.  Lucian’s puppets shouldn’t have been able to get through the barrier.  Shouldn’t have know where they were.

“Where are they?”  Their voice came out a hiss, fingers twitching at their side.

“Dead,” Casey’s voice was steel, his eyes hard and Veralith was surprised to find they had a bit more respect for him.  “But one got a lucky shot in.”

Veralith studied him for a long moment before gritting their teeth.  “Sieti, there’s a sewing kit and first aid kit in my room.  Please grab them.”

They pointed one long, clawed finger at Casey.  “You, kitchen, shirt off.  Now.”

For a long moment, Casey just stared blankly at them, even after Sieti left to get the supplies.  With an annoyed sigh, Veralith made a sharp gesture towards the kitchen.

“You are bleeding on my porch and making it very hard to resist tearing out your throat.  While you dying would mean one less human to deal with, you got injured protecting Sieti, so I owe you.  Plus for some reason, he likes you and would be upset if you died here.”

“Not sure what surprises me more, that you know how to stitch up an injury or Sieti’s opinion helps you over come your biases,” Casey said as he finally headed into the kitchen.

“Iyandi’s power isn’t suited to healing.”  Their voice wavered as they mentioned the other immortal’s name but they forced themself to ignore it.  “So I learned so he wouldn’t bleed out.”

Casey stripped out of his shirt as they entered the kitchen and Veralith blinked as they saw how many scars he had.  Some were obviously from gunshots and knives, but they also recognized claw marks.

After directing him to a chair, they snagged a rag and bowl of water.

“Is the bullet still in the wound?”  They asked as they started to clean the injury.

“Think so.”  Casey winced slightly as the cloth hit his skin.  “Fuck that’s cold.”

Veralith snickered, setting the rag down once the wound was clean.  “This might hurt, do you want something to bite down on?”

“I’ve had worse,” Casey said with a shrug.

Raising an eyebrow, Veralith blew on their nails to heat and sterilize them.  They glanced up as Sieti came back in the room and motioned to the table.  “You can put those down here please.  And you can either stay and watch or go play on the computer.  I think we’re skipping school today.”

Casey nodded with a dry laugh.  “Probably for the best.”

Sieti glanced at Casey, eyes going to his wound and paled.  “Going… going to go play happy games.”

Veralith waited until Sieti had retreated before digging their nails into the wound.  Casey hissed, body tensing, but didn’t react more than that.  The bullet wasn’t deep and they inspected it as they pulled it out.

“Humans have a gift for creating tools of death.” They put it on the rag, then snagged the sewing kit.

“It’s one of our few talents,” Casey said as he watched them heat the needle.

They barked a laugh, threading the needle.  “You’d know a lot, wouldn’t you.  I’d love to see you work.”

“I’d offer to ask Thema, but I’m not sure if she would go for it.”  Casey didn’t react as the needle sank into his skin.

“She isn’t keen on me leaving this area.”  Veralith rolled their eyes as they stitched the wound shut.  “I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to have me near violent death.”

They knotted thread and cut it, licking the blood off their hand.  Iron taste filled their mouth and they paused to savor it.

“Didn’t realize I tasted so good,” Casey teased and they rolled they eyes and passed him the bandages.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 28. Rothenburg

It’s fall again, our third autumn in Europe.

Every year, I write about how much I love this season: crisp air, colorful leaves, scarves, football... People (Chelsay) say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, but they’re wrong. Sorry hun, you can’t beat sweater-weather, brisk walks, and crunchy leaves.

Along with the above “basics”, Chelsay and I have started another autumn tradition since moving to Europe: an annual trip to Germany. There’s just something enchanting about fall in Germany that’s brought us back each year. The goulash is heartier, the deep forests are more colorful, and the foggy countryside is spookier. Plus the Germans say “Hallo” as their greeting. 

In 2015, Chelsay and I visited Munich and the hero view at Neuschwanstein. In 2016, we visited Berlin, taking in the city’s sobering history. Now, for round three, Chelsay and I spent the weekend in Rothenburg ob der Tauber, a romantic half-timbered town left 800 years in the past.

Before getting to Rothenburg though, let me talk more about fall: it’s undeniably the best season.

I mentioned Chelsay and I’s brisk walks earlier, and we really took those to a new level this fall. See, one of our favorite things about London is the peaceful, wild, unpolluted nature of the city’s parks. I already wrote about the greatness of these green slices of heaven(Chapters 13 and 14), and this autumn, we returned to all the classics: Richmond, Hampstead, Hyde, and Regents.

We didn’t settle for just the classics though... We also introduced the world-renowned Kew Gardens into our catalogue, and even took a long day-trip to the Cotswolds (which I’d written about in Chapter 6).

Quick time check though: it’s Halloween as I write this (Happy Birthday Matt!), and I bring that up because the Wedding post is still not 100% done... two full months after September 4th. That post is way more important, so although I could write more about our fall weekends, I’ll stop digressing and move on to Germany.

Rothenburg ob der Tauber is one of the most well-preserved medieval towns in the entire world. Though it’s certainly known to tourists, the village has kept its half-timbered charm thanks largely to how difficult it is to visit.

Nuremberg, the 14th biggest city in Germany, is the closest airport. Flights in are understandably rare to such a small city, and even if you’re lucky enough to find one, it’s still another two hour train ride into the Bavarian countryside. I looked hard into easier alternatives, but Rothenburg was consistently listed as THE village to visit. We’d have to make it work.

Chelsay and I ended up taking a later Friday night flight into Nuremberg, staying near the central station so we could easily find a train the next day. Despite arriving around 11, we took a quick and chilly stroll around the old town’s famous sites.

The next morning, after a necessary coffee but unnecessary Bavarian crème-filled donut, we caught the early train to Rothenburg. Thanks to season 2 of Stranger Things, the two-hour trip flew by and we’d arrived before we knew it. 

From the train station just outside of town, it was hard to see much: like most medieval villages, Rothenburg is surrounded by a tall fortress wall. Passing through the main gate though (moat and drawbridge included), Chelsay and I were instantly transported back into the 13th century.

With Stranger Things in mind, Rothenburg was some sort of time-warped version of the Upside Down: unchanged since the 1200s despite 800 years of advancement happening just outside the city gates.

It’s like the fortress wall is the membrane separating the two worlds: outside, the modern world continues as we know it, while inside, the town is blissfully ignorant to current events.

Picture the town from Pinocchio… because Rothenburg was literally its inspiration.

The central street is cobbled and wobbly. The timber-framed buildings are quaint and cozy, but dangerously teetering. Wrought iron posts stretch from each shop door, signifying each store’s offering: the baker hangs a pretzel, the butcher a cow, and so on.  Colorful flowers adorn every window frame, and the red roof tiles mirror the town’s name, Rothenburgh: “red fortress”. Finally, rising 200 feet, the town’s many guard towers cap your line of sight.

Chelsay and I felt like Hansel and Gretel… 800 years ago, a feudal peasant could have been standing in the same spot. As he looked around, likely dirty and illiterate (hence the sign posts), he would have taken in this exact view.

We quickly dropped off our bags at the beautiful Hotel Eisenhut before heading out for the day. Soon, we grabbed lunch at restaurant whose name matched the traditionally German setting, Reichsküchenmeister, and enjoyed an equally traditional meal of spaetzle and goulash.

The hearty meal was perfect before stepping back into frigid fall air. Coming from mild London, October in Germany feels cold every time we visit. In both our 2015 and 2016 autumn visits, I specifically wrote about our frequent hot chocolate breaks, thawing at Beluga in Munich or Fassbender & Rausch in Berlin. The weather wasn’t any different this year, so Chelsay and I made regular and necessary stops.

Between cups of hot chocolate, we joined our go-to guide Rick Steves for an audio tour through Rothenburg. I’d compare these audio tours to studying a painting: the painting is aesthetically pleasing without any explanation, but to fully appreciate its beauty, you have to know the story.

So what did Rick teach us?

First, in the 1330s, this tiny village was one of the 20 largest in the Holy Roman Empire, with a population of 5,500. For reference, my current apartment has around 1,000 tenants! There are only two main streets in this entire town, yet it was one of the 20 largest cities in 14th Century Europe. …Basically no one lived “in-town”, which gives you an idea of how farming-dependent the world was back then.

Regardless, as one of the “large” cities in the world, Rothenburg was included in the Church’s Holy Blood pilgrimage, where Christ’s blood was distributed throughout the Catholic world. The city retained the relic, and it is still on display 700 years later, encased in an intricately carved wooden altar.

Fast forward 300 years (or the ENTIRE history of the US!) to the 1630s. Rothenburg, a Lutheran city, fell during the Thirty Years’ War between Catholics and Protestants. There were few survivors, and shortly after, the bubonic plague killed most of the town’s remaining residents. The town stopped growing, thus preserving the medieval appearance still present today.

Finally, in the late 1800s the town was rediscovered and quickly drew interested tourists. By the 1930s, Rothenburg was recognized as one of “the most German of German towns,” and therefore gained popularity with Adolf Hitler. Hitler believed Rothenburg was the finest example of what a German hometown should be, and stationed troops nearby to protect the celebrated village.

By 1945, things weren’t looking good for Hitler. The Allies were pushing into Germany and had Rothenburg surrounded. US troops were given the order to bomb the small village, but aware of its historical significance, gave the Nazi soldiers an opportunity to quietly surrender. Ignoring Hitler’s orders to fight to the death, the Germans raised their white flag, thus saving the town.

After the Rick Steves tour, Chelsay and I raised our white flag too. We retired back to the hotel to rest our legs and warm up over several episodes of Stranger Things 2.

Once sufficiently thawed, Chelsay and I visited Zur Holl (translated: “To Hell”). Pun absolutely intended, our meal at this creaky medieval restaurant was one hell of an experience. First off, this place dates back to 900! WTF!? Is that hygienically safe for a kitchen? Is it structurally sound? Why is this timber building so reliant on candle light!?

Chelsay and I calmed our nerves with some phenomenal Franconian wine. It was bitter at first, but we quickly developed a taste for the regional specialty.

Then, the real Halloween treat: the food itself. We started with traditionally German brown bread and “butter”. The quotation marks were included on the menu too, but it was tasty so we didn’t ask about it until after we finished (turns out the secret ingredients was lard).

Our main courses were even better than the “butter”. Chelsay got the ribs, which were delicious, but the real star was my veal meatballs and potato dumplings.

I took one bite and was immediately bewildered. Chelsay saw my confused face and hesitantly asked if it was good… “SO good.” Chelsay tried and had the same reaction. We were stumped. What made these meatballs so flavorful?? You think of meatballs as bland, but these were juicy, salty, oniony and absolutely PACKED with flavor. We were pleasantly perplexed, but to be safe, didn’t make the mistake of asking for the secret ingredient this time.

Finally, for dessert, Chelsay and I tried the restaurant’s very autumn special: fried apples. The warm, doughy rings came with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream, topped with seasonally appropriate cinnamon spice.   …There’s a reason this restaurant has been around for over 1,000 years.

In an attempt to work off our heavy meal, we took a brief walk around the quiet town at night before retiring to the hotel for more Stranger Things.

We woke up slowly the next day. I’ve written about this in my last few posts (Bologna, Azores, Croatia), but Chelsay and I have certainly slowed our travel pace. For Munich in Chapter 1, our Friday night flight landed at midnight and we still made an 8 AM train to Neuschwanstein the next morning. After two years and 28 chapters, that’s not happening anymore.

Our measured pace wasn’t a bad thing though: it was rainy anyway. We enjoyed a slow breakfast at the hotel, staying safely dry while watching the stormy weather outside.

The weather improved later in the morning, but Chelsay and I still maintained a slow pace. We walked around the city’s mile-long fortress wall while taking in the views. One side story here: the planks that we were walking along were timber, but especially slick from a combination of leaves and the rain earlier. Chelsay held her eyes on the city for a step too long and peeled out… She didn’t quite fall, but did what I can only describe as the Russian folk dance where you lean back and kick wildly.

After her traumatic experience, we decided she’d earned a treat and swung by the town’s Christmas Market.

I said that somewhat offhandedly, but this place was serious business: these shops (one store that takes up two side-by-side buildings) are each three storeys and are completely decked out in glass ornaments, cuckoo clocks, wooden trains, and German Christmas pyramids. Chelsay was in heaven (just look at her face), and we browsed around the winter wonderland for at least an hour.

Our flight home was very late that evening. This is something I try to avoid on Sundays, but there just aren’t many flights to London from the 14th biggest city in Germany…

With the extra time, Chelsay and I leisurely made the return trek from Rothenburg to Nuremberg, binging a few more episodes of Stranger Things on the way. We actually finished the 9 episode season... in one weekend... while we were traveling. Is that an accomplishment?

Nuremberg actually has some historical significance itself so, after returning, we spent the rest of the day exploring the city.

Given its central location in Germany, Adolf Hitler selected Nuremberg as a rallying site for Nazi conventions. The rallies, which were held in Zeppelin Field from 1927 to 1938, attracted hundreds of thousands of Germans from across the country. Anytime you picture a Nazi rally (thousands of soldiers saluting as Hitler fanatically howls from a white grandstand, with massive Nazi banners waving in the background), you’re thinking of Nuremberg. The propaganda film Triumph of the Will was made to commemorate these rallies.

Based on the success of the Nuremberg rallies, Hitler began building a congress in the city, intended to host 50,000 Nazi leaders for the Fuhrer’s annual speech. It was built in the style of the Roman Colosseum, but would be twice as large.

Needless to say, it was never used for Hitler’s intended purpose. Instead, it’s a parking lot today.

I mentioned that my wedding post still isn’t 100% done, so I need to wrap this one up. I’ll close this post by saying that our third autumn trip to Germany provided exactly what we’d hoped: hearty goulash, colorful forests, and spooky sites, just as Munich & Berlin had provided before.

With our likely return to the States later this year, it may be awhile before our fourth “annual” autumn trip to Germany. Luckily, Rothenburg was the type of fairy tale village we’ll fantasize about until next time.

...The town hasn’t changed for 800 years, so when we finally do return, I’m betting it will be just as we remembered.