#the heat broke with all the storms but it’s still humid as hell

[blueskrugs]

once again we have been without power for five hours and counting with absolutely no sign we’ll get power back within the next twelve hours

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,340 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Hershel's Farm Warnings: Language, domestic violence, fear and anxiety A/N: Here with some Protective!Daryl for ya'll! Summary: When Daryl finds the reader outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he gives her a dry place to sleep, but the next day it causes problems with her asshole of a boyfriend.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge.

He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent and started through the maze of tents. That’s when he saw you. It looked like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn’t, like you were trying to blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and shivering slightly.

Daryl’s brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you. “What the hell are ya doin’ out here alone in the dark in the middle of a damn thunderstorm?”

You didn’t answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through you. The archer frowned. “Why ain’t ya in with your guy?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your boyfriend. Daryl didn’t like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse even than that.

You avoided his eyes again. “We, uhh—had a fight,” you murmured. Daryl could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face.

“That don’t explain why you’re out here in the rain,” Daryl drawled.

You continued to avoid his eyes and didn’t answer. He could think of a couple reasons why you’d be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and neither of them were good. Either he’d kicked you out or you’d left because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain.

“Ya ain’t stayin’ out here in the rain. C’mon,” he said, nudging his head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him. “If ya stay out here all night, all soakin’ wet like ya are, yer gonna catch yer death. C’mon.”

This time you followed him, still shivering.

Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off his jacket. He held it out to you.

You gave him a questioning look.

“I can see ya shiverin’. Take it. Can’t have ya gettin’ pneumonia. We’ve already gone through too many of Hershel’s antibiotics.”

You accepted it from him. “Thanks,” you said.

He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. “Make yourself at home,” he said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall.

You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone.

He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke through the pattering of the rain on the tent. “Ya wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the outside air. “I don’t know,” you admitted.

The sharp noise of his blade punctuated the silence. “He kick ya out or… did ya need to get out?” This time his eyes flickered up to your face.

He watched you gulp, but you held his eyes. The warm lantern light threw the angles of your face into sharp relief. Your eyelashes cast long shadows on your cheeks.

Daryl’s light blue eyes moved back down to his hands. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek and couldn’t help another shiver that ran up your back. The archer looked up at you again immediately, concern furrowing his brow. He set his knife aside and climbed to his feet.

He unzipped the flap of the tent and stepped out. He met your questioning gaze with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

This left you alone in his tent for a short time, just the hammering of the rain to keep you company. Your eyes wandered around the contents. It was a little unkempt, with clothes piled haphazardly in one corner and the edges of the canvas floor cluttered with tools and random items. There were half-finished crossbow bolts piled on a box that was serving as a side table, but something beneath them caught your eye. You gently brushed aside the wooden shafts and carefully lifted what had drawn your attention. It was delicate and brittle but you recognized it immediately as you carefully laid it out flat on your palm.

One day in the summer you had been collecting firewood for the group, eager to do something useful and needing some space for a while. You’d come upon a vine bursting with crimson flowers and as you’d stood and admired it, such a simple but beautiful thing, you’d watched hummingbirds flitting between the blossoms.

Wanting to know the name of the plant, you’d plucked a bloom and brought it back to the archer to identify. He’d taken hardly a glance at it before telling you its name. “Coral honeysuckle,” he drawled. “Ya can crush the berries and use ‘em on bee stings.”

“Coral honeysuckle,” you repeated. “There were tons of hummingbirds on it.”

He nodded. “Mhm. They like the nectar,” he said, holding the flower back out to you.

“Keep it,” you said with a smile, “as payment for your identification services.”

Daryl’s heart jumped at the smile on your face and he twirled the bloom between his fingers as he watched you retreat back toward the group.

This looked like the very same flower you had picked. He’d obviously pressed it underneath something to preserve it. The vibrant red petals were only slightly muted in color. He’d kept it all these months? You puzzled over this as you replaced it where you’d found it and arranged the crossbow bolts over it again. It was hard to ignore the warm feeling growing right between your lungs, threatening to spill outward.

A few minutes later, Daryl came into the tent again. There were raindrops on his shirt and caught in his hair. He had a small mug clutched in his hands and you could see spirals of steam rising from the surface. He extended it toward you and you accepted it, puzzled as you looked inside.

“Tea?” you asked, looking back up as Daryl settled onto the floor again.

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Mhm. I dunno if it’s any good. I think it’s some ginger-lemon thing Maggie brought to help with Lori’s nausea. But it’s hot. And you’re still cold,” he said. He felt nervous under the bewildered gaze you were giving him.

This man had just gone out into a thunderstorm to heat water for you and bring you tea simply because he’d seen you shiver. Not to mention that you were wrapped in his coat and he was sheltering you from the storm when your own boyfriend had—his voice broke your train of thought.

“I told ya. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.” Daryl picked up his knife again and went back to sharpening it.

It was silent for some time as you sipped at the tea and watched the archer work on his knives diligently. You didn’t know that he could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him crazy. His body seemed to respond to you like you were a drug and he was an addict. He did his best to keep it under control. After all, you were technically spoken for, even if the guy was a complete douchebag at best.

But finally you spoke, setting the empty mug aside and sitting farther back on his cot, pulling your boots off and folding your legs under you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing the next knife that needed sharpening from its sheath.

“What do you think of—of my boyfriend?” you asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed. You felt stupid even asking the question. You already knew the answer and you knew where this conversation would lead. You knew what you needed to do, but you were afraid to do it. Did you really think someone else saying what you thought out loud was going to somehow give you the courage to go through with what needed to happen?

Daryl’s hands froze and he looked up at you, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face for a long moment. He averted them back down and resumed his work again just as suddenly as he had stopped. “Don’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly.

The silence between you was suddenly thick, like a stagnant room full of humidity, the air heavy. The raindrops on the tent seemed to surround you and insulate you from everything else, from the rest of the world. The atmosphere was almost intoxicating, disorienting.

Eventually, Daryl’s blue eyes lifted again and fell on your face. He sighed heavily. “Ya really want to know what I think?” You nodded. “I think ya deserve better.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You’d expected Daryl to call him an asshole. You hadn’t expected that stated so explicitly. And you really didn’t expect him to go on.

“Either he threw ya out of your own damn tent into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, or ya had to get out because being outside in a thunderstorm in the dark was a better option than bein’ in there with him. What kinda man is that?” He scowled for a moment as he thought about how much he wanted to drag the guy out of your tent, give him a few good punches, and leave his ass in the rain. He turned back to his knives.

You were silent, consumed by your thoughts, but eventually you yawned and Daryl looked up immediately. He systematically put away his tools and then he grabbed some balled up clothes to use as a pillow. He also grabbed his poncho. His eyes lifted and met yours. “Ya take the cot. I’m good down here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’ll go—”

Daryl let out a scoff. “What are ya gonna do? Go sleep out under that tree?” He shook his head and settled down on the floor, leaning back onto the makeshift pillow and draping his arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t a question anyhow. Just get the lantern when you’re settled in.”

You couldn’t help smiling at him on the floor where he was stretched out under his poncho, a knife right beside him. You watched his ribs rise and fall with his breathing a few times and the butterflies in your stomach made you realize that you were most definitely in trouble… in more ways than one.

You clicked off the lantern and laid down on his cot, still wrapped in his coat. You slept peacefully until morning.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke early as the orange glow of the sun struck the tent walls and you shot up straight at the sound of Daryl stirring.

He nudged his nose up at you in a greeting and you gave him a small smile. His heart jumped at the sight of you in his jacket, on his cot, that sleepy smile and your tousled hair. He tried to ignore how many times he’d fantasized about this very scene, but with a slightly different context where that was right where you were always supposed to be.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

He stood and shouldered his bow. “I’m gonna go hunt. Ya ain’t gotta get up yet. Sun’s barely up.”

You bent and started pulling your boots on. “It’s alright. I’m already up.” You slipped his jacket off and laid it on his cot. “Thanks,” you murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to smooth the strands a little self-consciously. “For everything last night.”

He shrugged and chewed his bottom lip a little anxiously. “S’nothin’.” For some reason this made you smile and he thought your cheeks grew a little pink.

“You always downplay everything you do. You shouldn’t,” you said kindly, standing up. “It was way more than nothing.”

Daryl gulped and simply opened the tent flap and stepped out. You followed him and gave him another small smile as he nodded at you one more time and then headed for the woods.

You decided to do some of the morning chores since you were already up and set about gathering more and restacking the fire wood and doing some preparation for breakfast. You grabbed the water canisters and headed toward the well to fill them. You were filling the second container when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you. You turned to see your boyfriend striding straight toward you. Your stomach churned.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, coming to lean against the side of the well. His affect was flat and you were immediately on edge.

You avoided his eyes and didn’t say anything, just continued your work.

He reached over suddenly and pressed the pump handle down hard to stop the flow of water and your eyes shot up to his face. His expression was dark.

“You know, it’s weird. I got up while it was still dark and went out to look for you. Even went up to the house, but,” he shrugged, “you were nowhere to be seen.”

You stared back at him, your heart starting to rush a little in your chest.

“And I just wondered to myself, ‘Where could my girl have gone?’” He moved toward you, drawing himself up to his full height.

You stared up at him, gulping at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Seeing as you threw me out, I figured you wouldn’t care or come looking,” you said, reaching over and lifting the well handle again to start the flow of water, a little surprised at your own boldness to talk back to him in the way you did.

He immediately slammed the handle back down. “Well, I did. And imagine my surprise this morning when I saw you coming out of Daryl’s tent.”

You gulped.

“As soon as you found an excuse you just went running straight to that dumb redneck, didn’t you? Huh? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Did you have a good fuck last night?” He was right in your face now and you recoiled.

“It wasn’t—It wasn’t like that. I didn’t! It was storming. All he did was get me out of the rain. He—he slept on the floor. I just slept on his cot! That’s it,” you said, urgently grabbing the water and trying to rush back toward the tents and the group, sensing sincere danger not far away.

But your progress was stopped when he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You dropped one of the water containers which spilled its contents onto the ground. “You really think I’m gonna believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” There was rage burning in his eyes. “We have a fight and you think you can go fuck whoever the hell you want? Do I have to remind you who you belong to?!” He was yelling at you now and you tried to pry his hand from your arm. His fingers were digging in painfully.

“I’ve never cheated on you! I wouldn’t—please!”

He sneered. “Why the hell should I believe that?! Huh? You’re mine! I don’t want to see you talking to another man. Hell, if I even catch you looking at that redneck again, you’ll pay for it.”

His grip on your arm felt like it was tightening by the second. “I swear nothing happened! You’re hurting me! Let go!” you pleaded, feeling your eyes going wide with fear.

He growled at you through his teeth. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll break your arm if I want to,” he said viciously, starting to twist your arm behind your back painfully. You couldn’t help crying out, but that was the wrong thing to do, and you knew it.

The next moment you felt a blow across your jaw and tasted blood in your mouth. You fell to the ground, splayed in the dust, narrowly missing cracking your head against the cobbled stone of the well. Your vision was black. You could only hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The blackness dissolved slowly and you climbed desperately to your feet, but another blow landed across your cheek and you fell hard against the stone well this time, your back colliding painfully with the jagged edges of rock. You had an arm up to shield yourself as you tried to orient yourself again, waiting for your vision to clear.

You were waiting for the next blow to come, steeling yourself as best you could, but it never landed. The next thing you knew Daryl had barreled out of nowhere and he had your boyfriend on the ground beneath him, landing blow after blow into his face and body. “You piece of shit! Ya think hittin’ her makes you a fuckin’ man?! I’ll kill you if you ever lay a goddamn hand on her again!”

You watched in stunned horror. The rest of your group members were tearing across the field toward the commotion. They’d heard the yelling and your surprised scream and raced to get to you. Rick and Lori were in the lead and suddenly they were there. Lori grabbed you and helped you to your feet, her face white as a sheet as she looked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting you in your daze, leading you slightly back and away from the melee. When you glanced back over at Daryl you saw that he now had his crossbow aimed right at your boyfriend’s head. His chest and shoulders were heaving and every muscle in his arms were tensed. Rick was trying to talk him down.

“Daryl. Daryl, this isn’t the way. Let’s just calm down and we’ll decide together how to deal with him,” Rick was saying softly. “Just put your bow down and we’ll deal with him.”

The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “This bastard deserves to die,” he growled.

“I know. I know… I see what he did. But we’ll talk about this and decide on it together. Alright? Let’s just calm down for a minute.”

It took everything he had, every bit of willpower not to pull that trigger and end the bastard right there. And if you hadn’t been watching, he might have done it. But he didn’t want you to be afraid of him too. Daryl lowered his bow and Rick pulled him off your boyfriend, who was cowering on the ground with blood pouring down his face from an obviously broken nose. His eyes were already swelling shut.

Rick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You are comin’ with me,” Rick growled, dragging him away toward the barn.

Daryl ducked his head, his chest still heaving with exertion, and spared a glance in your direction. Your bottom lip was split and you had a hand pressed over the left side of your face, concealing the already blooming bruises from that asshole’s fist landing on your jaw and cheekbone. His heart ached, his stomach twisted, and he turned and stalked off after Rick.

You avoided the looks of pity and shock that the rest of the group was giving you and did your best to hold in your tears of pain and humiliation. You focused on Lori as best you could.

“Oh my God. Come here, honey. Let me look at you,” Lori said, moving in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face. Next, she noticed that your back was bleeding in a few places where you’d hit the stones and you winced as you tried to straighten up completely. Spots of crimson were staining your shirt. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go clean you up. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders again.

You felt like you were going into shock. You were disoriented. Lori led you up to the farmhouse and called out to Maggie and Hershel as you entered. They both rushed into the front room.

“Oh my God. What happened?” Maggie asked urgently, her eyes going round with horror.

Lori gave her a look and Maggie seemed to understand. There had been suspicions going around the group that perhaps your boyfriend was laying his hands on you occasionally, and they all seemed to now be confirmed.

Lori led you to sit down on a chair in the dining room. The vet-turned-doctor examined your face and determined that, luckily, no bones were out of place, but that you likely had a fractured cheekbone and a concussion, not the mention the injuries to your back and your split lip.

Lori guided you to the bathroom and started the bath tub filling with warm water. “Alright. Climb in there and I’ll be back in to help clean up your back, alright?” she said gently. She left and shut the door softly behind her.

You obediently stripped your clothes off, in a daze still, and stepped into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees, holding them tightly to your chest. Lori knocked a moment later and you murmured a “come in.” She had a washcloth in one hand and sank down on the edge of the tub, immediately dipping it into the hot water and dabbing at the wounds on your back. The abrasions weren’t too deep, but it looked like most of your back would be badly bruised.

You were grateful she didn’t say anything. You’d seen the expression on her face and that was enough. She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet. “Come on out when you’re ready. Hershel says you can stay in the guest room tonight. We want to keep an eye on you because of that concussion, okay?”

You nodded and rested your chin on your knees. It was right then when the tears finally started pouring down your cheeks and you gasped in a shuddering breath. “Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Lori said, rushing right back over and kneeling beside the tub, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” you said, rushing to wipe the tears that broke free from your eyes. “I think after everything fell apart, I just thought if I didn’t have something to cling onto from before that I—I don’t know—that I wouldn’t make it. But then he just… changed. And it didn’t happen all at once and I think that’s why I didn’t just—it was gradual. I almost didn’t notice it and then all of a sudden he just wasn’t himself anymore.” You hastily wiped at your tears again. “I feel so stupid and embarrassed and ashamed,” you admitted, unable to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. And you have nothin’ to feel ashamed about. And it’s all over now, alright? It’s over.”

You gasped in a shaky breath. “If Daryl hadn’t—”

“I know,” she shushed you. “I know. But he did. It’s all gonna be okay now, alright? Get cleaned up and I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

You gave her a grateful look and nodded. You sat in the hot water until it started to cool, your mind mostly blank. The adrenaline had worn off now and you were feeling every bit of pain. Your head felt like it was going to split open and you winced at the sight of your swollen and bruised face in the mirror. You pulled your clothes back on and ventured into the hallway. Lori was standing there with some clean clothes for you and she led you to the guest room and set them on the bed.

“Get changed into those clean clothes and then you need to rest. Hershel’s orders. He wants you in bed. We need to be careful because of that concussion.”

You thanked her again and nodded. You discarded your bloodstained shirt and dirty jeans on a chair in the corner and pulled on the new outfit before climbing under the covers. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out again and you squeezed your eyes shut against the pounding in your face and head.

Outside, the group was gathered to discuss what to do with your boyfriend. Daryl couldn’t stand still and was pacing angrily in front of the house. He looked up as Lori came out and the screen door slammed with a snap.

“How is she?” Rick asked, his face dark with concern.

“Alright, considering,” Lori said, slipping her hands in her back pockets. “Concussion. Bruised and swollen. Abrasions over half her back. Hershel thinks her cheekbone is fractured.” She caught Daryl’s eyes and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said, exchanging a look with Carol, whose eyes turned down toward the grass.

Daryl swore under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“Well, what do we do?” T-dog asked. “We can’t just keep going on like everything is normal with him in camp. He’s got to go.”

“The question is how,” Dale said.

“That bastard ain’t even deserve to still be drawin’ breath,” Daryl drawled. He looked at Rick.

Rick sighed heavily. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I agree with Daryl, man. I don’t want that guy around any of us,” Shane said.

“What if we just take him out and leave him? Drive him way out and drop him off somewhere,” Rick mused.

Shane scoffed. “We might as well shoot him in the head right now. He’d never make it out there alone. That’s as good as killing him.”

Rick nodded. “I know, but it feels a little less like the blood is on our hands then... He has a chance.”

“He don’t even deserve a chance. I’m fine with his blood on our hands,” Daryl spat. “If I hadn’t been over there huntin’ he coulda killed her.”

Rick sighed again, the weight of the decision obviously weighing on him, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah… Let’s just take the day to think it over. We can decide tonight. And Y/N can have a say.”

The group nodded in agreement and dispersed. Lori went back in to check on you.

She knocked lightly on the door and you murmured for her to come in. “How are you feeling?” she asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said, lying about how much pain you were in.

She nodded. “We’re all going to figure out what to do about him,” she said. “You should think about what you want to happen. He can’t stay here, but as far as what that means—”

“Okay,” you interrupted her. You rolled over and looked at her in the doorway. “Is Daryl—?”

She smiled a little and nodded. “You want me to get him? He’s probably still pacing on the front porch.

You nodded. “If you could.”

“Of course.” Lori left and in a moment the archer appeared in the doorway.

You were in bed, your back to the door, but you turned and looked over your shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. Daryl’s stomach twisted at the swelling and red welts on your face. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You pulled yourself up in a seated position and Daryl came around and sank down on the chair pulled up at the side of the bed. “I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, unable to meet his eyes and instead running the edge of the sheet through your fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. “And I’m sorry that you got pulled into this mess…” you trailed off.

“I ain’t,” he said forcefully. “I’m glad I got to beat the shit out that guy. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

You looked up at him and the glistening tears in your eyes made the colors in your irises stand out. His stomach flipped again at the sight of your injuries. “I feel so stupid. I never should have stayed with him.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t that simple.”

You were grateful for his understanding. Daryl watched you struggling with some thought until you finally spoke it. “What if he gets out?” you asked, fear obvious in your eyes.

“He ain’t getting’ out. I tied his ass up myself,” Daryl reassured you. “But I’ll sit watch outside all night. Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. It’s over.” The archer stood but your hand shot out and gently landed on his arm. He froze at the feeling of electricity that crackled from your fingers.

“Will you sit with me for a little while?” you asked. “Just—until I can fall asleep.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod and sank back down, feeling nervous and chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl watched as you settled back down in bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and shutting your eyes, your long eyelashes fanning out against your cheeks. The feelings welling up in him were getting more and more difficult to deny, and he knew now wasn’t the time—not yet. You needed to get through this first. But Daryl wanted to show you how you did deserve to be treated, even as he dared not hope that he’d have the chance, that you’d feel the same thing for him that he felt for you. He wanted to protect you, take care of you. He wanted to show you how strong you actually were, even as he thought of how much you reminded him of that flower you’d brought him; vibrant, sweet, soft, delicate, but always climbing toward the light. And he was determined to help you see it.

[waywardrose13]

Crimson Leaves- Chapter Seven: Calm Before the Storm

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Crimson Leaves- Zombie Apocalypse AU series

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The dead have risen. Amid a global pandemic that causes the dead to prowl the Earth, a leader of a small camp in North Carolina fights for survival. Y/N Y/L/N was certain of three things: One, only a bite would turn you. Two, the brain must be destroyed in order to completely kill the thing. Three, trust no one. When a stranger is brought to her camp half alive, Y/N must make the decision to throw him to the walkers, or let the mystery man heal within the gates. As Dean Winchester recovers from a zombie attack, he worms his way into the camp, and eventually into Y/N’s heart. Love is a dangerous game, especially when it’s played with the dead.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, language, some fluff, *Graphic depictions of gore and murder*, implied cannibalism, death

Bingo squares: None for this chapter​

A/N- This chapter was commissioned! Thank you to the beautiful individual who motivated me to write this chapter. This one is for you:)

<<Chapter Six

“Seriously?”

Y/n’s heart nearly leaped from her chest. She cursed under her breath and turned slowly to face him. Smiling sheepishly, she tried to ignore the flutters of butterflies in her chest at the sight of Dean: arms crossed, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. Why was an angry Dean turning her on? And why was she letting it?

“Hey, Dean,” she said. She sent him her most innocent smile, which was not reciprocated in the slightest. “Why are you up so early?”

“Because I’m a light sleeper and I heard you leave,” he replied. “Haven’t you learned from last time? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I have a list,” she said, shrugging. “People need these items and the runners can’t get them.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re personal items that people trust me with,” she said. “I have to go.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m amazing.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m endearing.”

Dean sighed and rubbed his temples. “Okay, well I’m coming with you.”

“Dean-”

“Not up for discussion. I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if you were alone last time. I’m coming with you.” Dean gripped her chin and planted a quick kiss on her lips before stepping around her to open the gate. “Come on, you.”

Y/n’s lip quirked into a small smile. She slipped through the gate, Dean right behind her. “Ladies first” he had said the first time they left on a run together. She hadn’t taken it, of course. He had sauntered through the gates when she scowled at him. But now, she brushed a hand over his bicep as she passed, giving him a sly grin that he sent right back as she walked through the gates. He latched it back up and followed Y/n down the marked path before he reached out silently to intertwine his fingers with hers. She sent him a shy smile and squeezed his hand.

The sun hadn’t risen quite yet. The hints of a rosy pink bled through the trees from atop the mountain. The sunrise over the mountain-top was gorgeous. A perk of being on the east coast.

The two settled into a comfortable silence. The birds began to wake, their melodious songs echoing off the trees, creating a calming morning atmosphere. It wasn’t very humid, and the temperature wasn’t too high, so the air was comfortable, a soft wind blowing atop the mountain. With mornings like these, it’s hard to think of the death and destruction happening on Earth right now. These moments of tranquility were cherished by Y/n. She knew it couldn’t last, but she liked to pretend. 

They arrived at the Jeep in no time. Dean offered to drive, and Y/n reluctantly let him. She knew the roads better, but she was still tired, so she conceded.

“We aren’t going into Brevard today,” she said. “When you get to the fork, take a left instead.”

“Copy that,” Dean said. 

They drove in silence for the most part, one of Dean’s hands still laced with one of Y/n’s. Y/n huffed a small laugh at the thought of the last time they were outside the walls of the camp on a run. How she had been so annoyed and pissy with him. How he had called her a grade-A bitch.

Now, their hands were laced and her skin was abuzz with the feel of him. That attraction and that feeling had been there, hidden beneath denial and anger and self hatred. But Dean had set that feeling free. He had nudged open the door to her heart and let those feelings loose.

And it scared the fuck out of her.

She knew she wasn’t easy to be around. She knew she wasn’t easy to love. She knew that before the apocalypse. She had always had a temper. She was always a bit odd. She had been through some shit in her life that molded her into someone who locked away her trust and lashed out when she was hurt. 

It’s not like she wanted to be this way. A build up of unresolved trauma, the dismissal of her own feelings, and not knowing how to express her emotions in a healthy way led to it. 

So, no. She wasn’t easy to be around. It’s why most people in her life left. Even her own family had a hard time dealing with her sometimes.

“You make us all miserable.” 

It was so long ago, she couldn’t remember if it was one of her siblings or parents, but those words had stuck with her for a long time. And it stung, even after all these years. She wished she could fix it. She had always wanted to be loved despite her flaws.

She knew Dean didn’t love her. She knew the capability of someone loving her was low. But he cared for her. And he shared her affections.

She just hoped she didn’t scare him off.

The general store was nestled in yet another small town at the bottom of the mountain. The runners didn’t know about it. They traveled mostly west or to Brevard. But Y/n had come to the small town on a few occasions. It was one of the last untouched towns. Long abandoned, it wasn’t on many maps, and the general store still had many valuables to spare.

“What are we looking for?” Dean asked as they stepped inside. He closed the door softly behind him and locked it. The store was dark and full of cobwebs, dust, and leaves, but the shelves were still intact and covered in items. They weren’t full, but they had enough.

Y/n read over her list for the tenth time. “Some enemas, condoms, and hemorrhoid cream.”

Dean stared at her. “Personal. Right.”

“Told you,” she said, setting off into the isles. “Not everyone trusts all the runners. As their leader, most people entrust the more personal items with me. I think they know if they asked the runners for stuff like this, stuff that doesn’t benefit the camp as a whole, the runners would ignore it.”

“You’re a good leader, Y/n.”

Her skin warmed at his pride. “Thank you.”

They searched the store for the items, finding them all as well as a few more packs of batteries, lighter fluid, and a half empty tank of gas in the back. They poured the gas into the Jeep’s tank, stuffed all of the items into Y/n’s backpack, and climbed back into the car.

***

“That went by much more smoothly than our last outing.”

Y/n whistled and nodded, slumping down onto her couch when they got back to her cabin. They had dropped the items off at the respectable tents, dumped the batteries off at the nerve center, passed the lighter fluid off to the kitchens, and returned to Y/n’s cabin before their daily duties.

“I would say so,” she said, reaching a hand up for Dean to grab. He grinned and took it, sinking down onto the couch beside her and lifting her up into his lap. She laid her head in the crook of his neck, his hands resting on her waist and knee. 

“What do you have planned today, Lord Commander?” Dean asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “I’m stuck at the nerve center today. I have some role change requests and Luke and I are drafting a plan for some cabin construction.”

“Really?” Dean asked. 

“Yep. We’re growing rapidly. We’re thinking about some bunk houses, that way people don’t always have to stay in tents. There’s a man who worked construction who’s currently over in security, but he said he’d direct the building efforts.”

“That would be a lot of work,” Dean said. He peered down at her. “Where would the materials come from?”

“It would be mostly wood. Maybe some clay to help keep the logs together. But if we build a sturdy enough structure and use some of the tarps over the roofs to keep the rain from pouring in, I think we could build decent log houses. They wouldn’t be perfect, but the tents are filling up and we’re running out.”

Dean nodded at her words and squeezed her hip. “Not a bad idea.”

“Of course it isn’t. I came up with it.”

Dean chuckled. “So modest.” 

She looked up at him, their eyes locking for a moment before Dean bent down to plant a chaste kiss to her lips. 

Y/n didn’t think she would ever get used to Dean kissing her. Every time he did, she felt as if she was swept up into a new dance amongst the stars, or as if she was soaring up into the sky. Every touch sent her skin aflame and every kiss left her breathless in the best way. He was her drug, and the more of him she got, the more of him she craved.

He lifted her and laid her back on the couch, his hands warm on her hips as he held her down, skimming them up her sides. She arched into his touch and kissed him feverishly, wrapping her legs around his waist to rub against him. Groaning, he broke away from her to duck into her neck, kissing the skin there.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped as she grinded against him.

“Yes?” She asked sweetly.

“Keep doing that, and I won’t be able to hold back,” he said. She knew that wasn’t true. If she told him to leave and never come back, he’d respect her wishes. But his words still sent heat slithering to her core.

“Who’s asking you to?” 

Dean growled and nipped her earlobe. “I don’t want your first time to be us rutting against each other on your couch like a couple teenagers.” He bucked his hips into hers, though, making her gasp. “When we fuck, we’re going to do it right.”

When.

“So sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She asked. 

Dean pulled back to look her straight in the eye. “Very.”

And he kissed her again. 

This time, he pulled her up to his chest, keeping her legs locked around his, and stood. How he did that so gracefully with her wrapped around him like a koala, she didn’t know. But he carried her across the room and to her bed, where he broke apart and set her down gently.

And took a step back.

Dean laughed as Y/n sagged with a pout. She looked up at him through her lashes and reached for him again.

“You’re cruel. Come here.”

“I told you, I won't do this now.”

“You said not on the couch,” she pointed out. She snapped her fingers. “Come back now.”

Dean grinned and clasped the sides of her head, bending to give her one last gentle kiss.

“I thought you weren’t ready.”

Y/n thought for a moment. Twenty-three years of sexual frustration had built, and he was right in front of her, willing to be her outlet. And in the moment, she was definitely ready. But taking a step back…

“We don’t have to do it now. Just come lie with me.”

“I need to shower,” Dean said. He shifted uncomfortably and Y/n’s eyes flashed down to where his jeans were definitely straining against his crotch. She smirked and looked up at him again.

“Naughty boy.”

“It’s your fault, Lord Commander.” He pointed at her and shot her a wink. “Your fault.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and Y/n laughed. A warmth had spread over her chest and seeped into the deepest parts of her heart. That hole that had formed inside her, the one that had concaved in on itself when she lost her family and sunk into a survival mode that changed her and tore her very being apart, had begun to fill.

And she had Dean to thank for that.

She wasn’t in love. Of course, she wasn’t sure what love really was. But she felt herself falling. She knew she was falling. Which was ridiculous, right? It wasn’t as if she knew him very long. Not even two months had passed since she met him. Yet he was nestling into the depths of her heart and mind, rooting himself there.

Fuck was it terryfiying.

He was helping fill that empty void she always felt. But what if she lost him? What if she lost him like she lost her family? The ones who mattered most to her? She didn’t think she would be able to handle losing someone she loved again. 

And while she could easily lose herself in love, in a romance that she had wanted for so long, it wasn’t what was important. The camp was the most important thing in her life right now. She wouldn’t let feelings get in the way of protecting the camp or its people. 

Perhaps throwing herself into her work would help stow those feelings away. They would be kept at bay so she could focus, so that maybe she wouldn’t inevitably become hurt by his leaving. Because everyone in her life left. What would make him so different? He could say he wouldn’t leave, say he wouldn’t do the same thing as everyone else had. 

But every one of those people who left said the same thing, yet they still turned their backs on her.

Sighing, Y/n slumped further onto her bed, burrowing into the blankets and pressing her head into the pillow. She had been up so early that morning and exhaustion was weighing down on her. She had been working throughout the day and into the night before waking up before the sun the next day. She was beat.

As her eyes began to droop, Dean emerged from her bathroom. She peeked and eyes open and watched as he toweled off his wet hair, dressed in simple jeans and a henley. Hanging the towel on the rack before he sauntered over to the bed where Y/n was laying. He gently reached down to run a hand along the back of her head.

“Are you okay?” He asked, fingers lightly caressing her head, worry etched into his face.

“Yes. Why?” 

“You seem sad,” he told her. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and rested a hand on her back. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” she promised. She sat up and locked eyes with him. “That’s kind of the problem.”

He cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know how to keep myself from falling for you,” she said honestly. May as well speak the truth in the apocalypse, no beating around the bush when you could die at any moment. “I don’t know how to keep myself from getting hurt.”

Dean frowned. “Is that what’s happening here?”

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and gave a slight shrug. “I don’t know.”

Dean hesitated but nodded briefly and looked away. “You might want to figure that out.”

“I know.”

He sighed and squeezed her hip affectionately. “I thought I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” He still didn’t make eye contact when he added despondently, “don’t you trust me?”

Y/n’s heart thumped roughly in her chest. “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you still question my motives? Why don’t you believe anyone could love you?”

Suddenly her heart was in her throat. Love her? He couldn’t love her. This couldn't be love with him. Not yet. Maybe infatuation or attraction, but he couldn’t possibly love her. He seemed to catch what he said because his face turned red and he stiffened. 

“Because everyone always says that. They never plan to leave in the beginning.”

“Well sorry, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me,” Dean said.

“For now.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up, beckoning her to the door. “I don’t want to argue with nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense if it’s true,” Y/n muttered, taking his hand. He scowled.

“That in of itself is nonsense,” he said. “But come on, let’s get some work done before we say something we regret.”

Before the two could reach the door, it crashed open, Luke’s frantic face stepping into view as he nearly fell inside with the force he used to open the door. Y/n jumped and Dean crouched into a defensive stance automatically.

“Jesus, Luke!” Y/n said. “What the hell?”

“It’s… you have to look… I don't even…” Luke sucked in breaths rapidly, his face turning ashy pale as he hyperventilated. Y/n wasted no time in moving in front of her closest friend and second-in-command, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Breathe, Luke,” she said. “Like me. In, hold, out, good. Again.”

He did his best to match her breathing, the terror still written on his face and glowing in his eyes, body trembling. He looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“Now, tell me what happened.”

“The barbarians. The runners left this morning for a hunt. They hadn’t come back in time-”

“Wait, they didn’t? Why wasn’t I informed?” Y/n asked, fingers tightening on Luke’s shoulders.

“Well… Mikela thought it best if we didn’t tell you. You’re finally back to health, well for the most part. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how you stare into space sometimes or forget something right after it happened. Your head is still healing and-”

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” She let go of him roughly, moving to the door. “I’m still the fucking leader.”

“We need a leader who is well enough to lead. She came to me and-”

Y/n spun around to face him. He stumbled back on the look on her face. She was furious, feeling betrayed. “Excuse me?”

“I’m second in command. I didn’t think it was right so I came to you and-”

“I’m not some fucking weakling,” she snarled. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay. You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine in a long time,” Luke said. She nearly vibrated with rage.

“I’m fine enough to lead this camp. I’m fine enough to fulfill the duties I promised to fulfill when I took this position. You are second in command, not first. Which means I am the one they come to. Not you.”

“I know,” he said quietly. He looked down at his shoes. 

“Now. What the hell happened?”

“Runners two and six went hunting this morning.”

“Sophie and Gary. I wrote the schedule,” she said flatly. Luke nodded.

“They didn’t come back. So Mikela went out with runner three, Matthew, and-and they came back but we need you. Just… come with me. I have to show you.”

Glancing at Dean for a moment, who looked back at her with equal confusion, Y/n followed Luke outside. Some people were gathered by the front gate, but the guards were holding their line firmly. The small crowd of people parted to let Y/n through.

“What happened?”

“Where’s Gary?”

“If they’re dead, I blame you!”

Y/n stepped through the gate that the guards opened for her, ignoring the shouts from the crowd. Mikela was there, face as stony as ever, with Matthew and Richard at her sides. Y/n cocked her head.

“What happened? Luke was very vague.”

Mikela jerked her head behind her and led Y/n through the trees. Clouds covered the sky, but slivers of sunlight cut through the curtain of gray and down into the breaks of the leaves. They were on alert as they walked, Matthew, Dean, and Luke trailing behind the two women as they went.

“Why is he here?” Luke asked.

Y/n glanced back at them. Dean had turned his head to glare at Luke, who tried not to look in his direction. Y/n shrugged.

“He’s going to be a guard. He needs some field experience.”

Luke scoffed. “You’re only letting him trail you like a puppy because you’re fucking him.”

Everyone stopped walking collectively. Luke had paled and taken a step back, knowing he had gone too far. Dean’s face hardened as he gripped Luke’s shirt collar and dragged him within inches of his face.

“Watch your damn mouth,” he snarled. Luke shoved against Dean’s chest hard and stumbled back as the man let go.

“Luke,” Y/n spoke calmly. He turned to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“If I hear one more word from your mouth, Dean won’t be the one you have to worry about. Speak to me or any other woman like that and I’ll boot you from your role here, and then contemplate your stay here at the camp. Is that understood?”

Luke nodded and swallowed hard. 

“Good,” Y/n said. “You’ve tested my patience enough today. Go back to the camp and stay there.”

“Yes, Lord Commander,” he said, trying to lift the spirits with her nickname. But it didn’t work, and he turned to slink back through the trees.

“Come on, we don’t have much time,” Mikela said lowly, gripping Y/n’s elbow to tug her along. They only walked for about a minute before she stopped and turned away. “Look.”

Mikela lifted her hand to point a few yards away. Y/n followed her finger and gasped in shock before she almost cried out in horror. She slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the sounds. 

There, strung up by his neck, Gary hung from a thick branch of a tree. His eyes had been ripped from his head- dark, bloody sockets remaining. His throat had been hacked at, his clothes had been stolen, and his body had been utterly disfigured. Chunks of thigh had been cut away, one of his arms was missing.

The only way she knew it was Gary was by the tattoo on his chest, a family crest that sat over his heart. It had been cut into with a knife, an X marking it.

Y/n thought she may faint. Her knees wobbled at the sight and she quickly turned away, forcing the vomit that threatened to come up down. 

“Oh my God.”

“We haven’t found Sophie. We think it was the barbarians.”

“You’re sure?” Y/n asked. Mikela nodded and held out a piece of paper. It was crumpled and bloody. 

“This was nailed to his foot when we found him.”

Y/n took the paper tentatively, clenching her jaw as she read it.

“Thanks for the meal and for the fun. They’ll have to do until I get you back, Y/n.  -R.”

Y/n looked up at Dean, fear gripping her heart. Rick. He was still alive. 

“Why?” Was all she could say. Dean shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It has to be them, right?” Mikela asked. “R. He’s one of the guys who we fought last year. One of the guys who took you?”

Y/n nodded and folded the letter before shoving into her pocket. She cleared her throat and loosed a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, this was the barbarians. Rick. He uh… he’s threatened me on more than one occasion. He’s pissed that I got away from him again.”

“So what do we do?” Matthew asked. Y/n looked between the three of them, chewing on her lip as she thought. Sighing, she turned to the body hanging in the tree and winced.

“We have to give him a proper burial.” She took her switchblade from her pocket and put it in her mouth to hold it as she hauled herself up the tree, climbing it enough by the branches to reach the rope that held Gary hanging. She suppressed a gag at the smell of blood and decay and flicked the knife open. She sawed at the rope a few times until it gave away and Gary fell to the ground. “We’ll bury him in the cemetery with the others.”

“I’ll run back and grab a sheet or something,” Matthew said. He broke out into a run, desperate to get far away from their mutilated friend.

“Poor Gary,” Mikela said softly. “He was always so nice.”

“And what about the other one? Sophie, was it?” Dean asked. “You think they… they took her?”

“I hope not,” Y/n said. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “God, I hope not.”

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Truth Is (Chapter 3)

Chapter 3: Paper Weighted Problems

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!reader

Summary: After the night before, tensions between Fish and Chip arise. While tearing through the jungle and Lorea’s place, Frankie and the reader fight, leading to an amazing discovery.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: explicit language, blood, violence, guns/weapons, lots of angst and emotions, infidelity?, smut, sexual innuendos, drinking, mentions of drugs, talk of death/death itself, and talk of mental health(PTSD and depression).

A/N: Sorry for the late update, Life has its ups and downs! Today we had a bad storm so I sat in my basement and wrote this. I hope you like it<3

Regret. Frankie couldn't hide the emotion from me. It was as clear as day, I wondered if the boys had noticed it. 

“Well what’s for breakfast?” I broke the awkward silence, causing everyone but Frankie to break their gazes away from me, but exchanges looks between each other. I finally looked anywhere but in Frankie’s direction.

Tom cleared his throat, “Uh nothing special, we saw that you had some frozen waffles and just made those.” He tried to lighten the mood, it was obvious, everyone knew about last night. 

“Haha, yea, what grown woman buys Eggos?” Benny attempted to joke, causing Santi and Will to stifle a laugh. 

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile, thoughts of Frankie still clouding my mind. “For occasions just like this one! When five grown men have a slumber party in my living room.” I added, walking over to the counter and grabbing a plate full of waffles and dowsing them in syrup.

“Right, because that’s definitely what it was.” Tom chuckled, handing me a napkin.

“Exactly, I’m pretty sure I saw Pope braiding Benny Boy’s hair.” I joked biting into a chunk of food.

Ben scoffed, “It gets in my eyes!” And everyone froze, staring at him in shock. After a second of complete silence, Frankie burst into laughter, sending the rest of us into a laughing fit, except Ben. He stood there blushing, trying to act like he didn’t reveal that he braids his hair.

Will began to cough, struggling to not choke on the mouthful of food while he snickered. Pope roughly patted him on the back as our giggles died down. 

“So, does that mean you sit in the mirror and braid your own hair?” Tom questioned with a smirk on his face, wanting to bother Benny more.

“You shut up.” He jokingly spits. Tom raises his hands as a sign of defeat and continues to finish the last bites of food on his plate.

“Anyways...Other than our ‘slumber party’ I know two people that had some fun last night.” Pope spoke up, causing mine and Fish’s eyes to open wide.

“Oh yea, how could we forget? ‘Oh FrAnKiE, Oh YeS! HaRdEr!’” Benny mimicked me while thrusting his hips for dramatic affect. I could feel heat rising to my face as the boys roared with giggles again. 

“Would you cut it out?” Frankie replied, wanting to avoid this talk entirely. 

Then Pope joined in, making fun of Frankie, “’FuCk, bAbY, I wOn’T LaSt LoNg!’” I sat there, embarrassed and not knowing what to say. Normally this would be a joke, but with everything, this wasn’t a joking matter.

“I said enough!” Frankie shouted, “It shouldn’t have happened, okay?!” He expressed, shoving his chair back, getting up, and storming outside.

All the commotion died immediately. Pope and Benny opened their mouths to apologize when they turned to me, but were met with a blank stare.

Did he really mean that? After pursuing me? After trying so hard to make up, he goes and says ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

Everyone remained quiet, continuing to stare at me in concern. After what felt like hours, Tom pushed his seat back and got up, hopefully headed to catch Frankie.

Once Tom had made it out the front door, I cleared my throat, "So, what time are we leaving?" I asked, trying to hide all the hurt and pain from my eyes.

The three remaining men all exchanged looks, "Here in 15." Santi spoke quietly, unsure of what exactly just happened.

"Sounds good!" I faked enthusiasm, stuffing my mouth with the last bite on my plate and getting up. I swiftly put my dishes in the sink and headed back to my room. I could hear the boys whispering to each other, trying to understand what the hell was going on with Frankie and I.

I closed my door behind me. I leaned against it, letting my head fall back with defeat and hit the door. Feeling my emotions topple over the brim, tears rushed to my eyes as I slid down the door and sank to the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Why was Frankie so upset with our actions. I thought finally we had made up, that he was once again MY Fish. Had he just used me last night? What changed his mind? Why was this happening all over again?

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that my sobs were now audible. I couldn't hold back the garbled gasps I let out. Tears stained my cheeks and began to soak my shirt.

Through the door I could hear the boys trying to get each other to come get me, because it was close for us to leave. Not wanting to deal with the water works anymore, I slapped my cheeks a few times, trying to smack the emotions out of my head. I wiped my tears off and quick got up to change my shirt.

After rummaging through my clothes, I found a similar shirt, threw it on and swung open the door, wanting to just head to the airport, and to get this over with.

Holding my head up high, I confidently walked back to the kitchen/living room to meet the boys. Only Benny and Will stood there waiting for me, finishing the dishes and putting them away.

"All set? I'm ready to get this over with and be rich." I attempted to joke, causing the brothers in front of me to awkwardly chuckle, their eyes full of worry.

Benny shook his head, acknowledging that I wanted to ignore the fiasco and to get on the road. He led the way out of the apartment after hanging up a dish towel and grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter.

I followed quickly behind him with Will right on my heels. When we made it to the cars, Frankie sat in the front passenger side of Santi's truck, Santi in the driver seat, and Tom between them.

"I'll drive," Will offered, making his way to his truck and getting in. Benny walked ahead of me, opened the door and waited for me to hop in, before getting in after.

No one spoke as we tailgated Santi's truck all the way to the airport. Will placed his hand on my thigh the whole time, as a way to console me. Benny had his arm around me, slightly pulling me into his side. With them, I felt much better, they were my best friends and knew exactly how to comfort me.

When we found a good parking space, we all hopped out, and grabbed our things from the bed of the trucks. It was still awkwardly silent between everyone.

As we checked into our flights and went through TSA, Benny tried to lighten the mood by saying he needed a snack, even though we had just ate. We all giggled when Will called him a 'garbage disposal.'

Sitting at our flight gate was almost unbearable, realizing this mission would be very difficult, now with the added tension.

When we boarded the plane, Will and Santi sat with me, of course I was in the middle. Tom, Benny, and Frankie sat in the seats next to us. During the first hour I attempted to read a book, but quickly got bored as I felt Pope fall asleep and rest his head against my shoulder. Will sat with his eyes closed and headphones in.

I glanced over Pope's sleeping frame to find the others. Benny was leaned forward, head down and snoring on the tray he had propped up. Tom was slouched in his chair, his head lulling back and forth with sleep consuming him. And Frankie, who was also reading, looked up and met my eyes.

I ignored the gaze he gave me and turned my attention back to my book. Moments later I felt my phone buzz with a text. I sat my book down and pulled out my phone, reading the message;

Fishie: "I'm sorry..."

I rolled my eyes, was he really apologizing for his blowout, over a text?

Locking my phone, I put it face down into my lap, leaving the message unanswered. I continued my page in my book, only getting past a few sentences before my phone vibrated again. I acted as if I didn't feel it and remained reading. Only for it to ping again.

Frustratedly, I opened my phone again, seeing two additional texts;

Fishie: "Really?"

Fishie: "I meant what I said. I am sorry, but last night... was a mistake."

Heat began to rise to my cheeks, I forcefully typed back;

Me: "Wow, you are unbelievable."

I heard him shuffle and type back quickly;

Fishie: "Because I apologized? It's true, I'm only helping us both here. Yea it was my fault, but I shouldn't have gone to your room."

Me: "You took advantage of my feelings. You acted like we can just ignore this, I can't help but feel you led me on."

Fishie: "Led you on?! How? WE both decided to sleep together, thats it. I didn't LEAD you to do anything."

Me: "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Fishie: "Oh really?"

Me: "Yea, fuck you."

Fishie: "God you are the most stubborn and hard headed person I've ever met. Can't you see that this was a damn mistake?"

Me: "Screw you, oh wait, I did, but look where that got me. I don't even know why you're trying to apologize, because somehow you keep shifting the blame to me."

As I hit send and shoved my phone between my legs and put my book away, I heard Frankie huff with anger. Awaiting a reply I closed my eyes and leaned against Will, using his arm as a pillow.

But for a while, nothing came, and I slowly began to drift into unconsciousness.

My sleep had been interrupted by the plane shaking and a loud thump. I opened my eyes abruptly, and slightly frightened. I faced Will, to glance out the window and found that we had finally landed in Colombia.

We all silently gathered our things and slowly made our departure from the plane and airport. Once we trudged through the doors, we made it into the humid climate, the wet air immediately dampening our skin and clothes.

"Damn, this is gonna be fun." Benny chirped as we all huddled into the jeep Santi had prepared for us. Santi hopped upfront, and so did Tom, leaving four of us to try and fit in the backseat.

"Pope, there six of us, there's no way we'll fit AND have room for the bags." I spoke up, watching as Will, Benny, and Frankie smushed into the seats together.

"I know, I promise I'm more prepared than that," he laughed. "We only have to ride like this for a few miles, then we're on foot, and they'll have cargo vans there." He explained, turning on the engine and motioning for me to somehow get in.

"You can sit on my lap, I'll hold you down during Pope's insane driving." Benny laughed from between Will and Fish. I climbed over Will, careful not to hurt him, and landed in Ben's lap when he yanked the arm I used to brace my weight.

I twisted in his lap to sit comfortably, hoping I'd fit and we could just hurry up and get this over with. Benny wrapped his arms around my waist as Santi sped off and made way to a long and bumpy road.

We hit quite a few bumps and potholes, causing me to shift and bounce in Benny's lap. I tried to lean forward and hang in-between the two front seats, to help alleviate the rough contact between us.

"Damn it Chip, quit wiggling." Benny grunted from behind me.

"I can't control that, Pope is hitting every possible bump on the road." I squeaked as we hit a particularly hard one. I landed back into his lap and felt something. "Ouch, what the hell is in your pocket."

Will snorted and faced the window to hide his face as Benny gulped loudly. "I-I can't help it, you keep moving!" I froze, wanting to still believe it was something in his pocket.

"C'mon man, can't you control yourself?" Frankie angrily spoke up.

I pulled my back from Benny and sat as far forward on his legs as I could, turning to look at Frankie. "What? How is it-" I countered, my voice dying in my throat.

"Fish, you know how it works, it's not like I'm doing this on purpose." Benny awkwardly explained.

Frankie huffed and shook his head. "Whatever." he muttered.

"Looks like someone is jealous." Santi quietly joked.

"I am not jealous! We-we are on a damn mission! That should be the last thing from anyones mind, we need to focus on not dying and getting the fucking money." Frankie snapped, filling the jeep with his booming voice.

All noise ceased, the only sound was the creaking of the car as we rolled off the main road into a trail. The tension was at an all time high, it was engulfing and in a way, suffocating.

After some time, we stopped, Santi throwing the car in park and quickly turning to us. "My informant said that the mansion should be vacant, but we only have about 15 minutes, so we get in and get out, with as much as we can carry, but we can't take too much time." We all nodded. "When I get the signal, we're coming in hot and getting right to it. Get out and suit up." He turned back around and hopped out.

We followed behind, pulling out our bags and pulling on our gear. Not much else was said, due to the shit that was about to go down, even though it would be empty, you never know what could happen.

"Alright, obviously with everything, we no longer fit, I'll ride the side." I spoke, waiting for Will to get in and shut the door.

"Me too, easier that way." Frankie offered, shutting his door after Benny jumped in.

Will shut his door and I placed my foot on the step bar, hauling myself up to grab the rack on top for support, hanging on tight as Frankie did the same. "All good?" Pope asked through the window.

"Game time bitches." I quirked, slapping my free hand on the top of the Jeep. As we waited for the signal, I took in my surroundings, lush, thick forest all the way around, If Pope doesn't know where to go, we'd definitely get lost.

As I admired the greenery, I turned to look over the roof of the car, meeting Frankie's eyes for what seemed like the millionth time since we've reunited.

He sheepishly looked away and down at the ground, his knuckles which wrapped around the frame of the rack, tightened and turned white.

A garbled and staticky noise came from the cab of the vehicle, causing Pope to slam the gear shift into drive and yell "Hold on tight!" He lurked the jeep forward, stepping up the speed.

I held on tighter, pulling my body as flush as I could to the side of the Jeep, to avoid hitting the branches and brush that littered the sides of the overgrown trial.

After a long blur of green, the forest broke into a path, leading to a small mansion. Just as fast as we drove, we stopped. I jumped off and quickly swung the door open for Will, stepping back and pulling my gun from my side.

Without any words, we all strategically filed into the house, making sure to take cover and search the premise, eliminating any threats. The first floor had been barren, as for people, though it was filled with expensive artwork and furniture.

Once we all searched and met at the staircase, Pope nodded at me, signaling for me to take the lead upstairs and sweep the area. I quickly glided up the stairs and took cover near the first door, getting ready to burst in the room and check. To my luck, when I leaped into the room, it was empty. I glanced behind the door, and walked further into the office, keeping my gun at attention.

I could hear the boys doing the same, in the last four rooms. I observed the room, a big desk sat in the middle, a fancy chair accompanied it, the walls were decorated with paintings and portraits. The was a door in the corner, which I strode over to, swinging it open, full force. An alarmed Fish sat on the other side, the door led to the next room. I quickly pointed my gun at the ground and rolled my eyes, turning to examine the room again.

"Clear!" I yelled, letting the team know our section was safe.

Frankie walked through the door and up to me, as I sifted through the desk. "Hey I just wanted to talk real quick."

"Really? Now is not the time, look for the money." I spat back at him. "Any luck?!" I yelled hoping someone found something.

A faint voice answered, "No! I swear, she said there was money here!" Pope echoed.

Getting antsy, I shoved the desk, causing it to fall over, Frankie stepped back, "Listen, I didn't mean to make things worse, okay? Trust me I wanted nothing more than to be with you again."

I paused my movements, holding a paperweight in my hand, "No Frankie, you've done enough, either you want me or don't." I spoke harshly.

"Damn it Chip, just listen!" He raised his voice.

"No! I'm not doing this again, get your shit together and fucking look for something!" I yelled, bending down to put the weight down. He leaned forward and grabbed my arm. "Fuck you!" I yanked away, causing the paper weight to leave my hand and barrel into the wall.

The wall cracked, a hole forming as the weight bounced off and fell to the ground. "Look at what you did!" Frankie gasped with frustration.

I whipped around, walking to the wall, grabbing the paperweight. As I stood, I stopped halfway up when I was met with the hole. But it wasn't just an empty wall or beam behind it. There were plastic packages sticking out, which is very unusual for houses. Frankie began to murmur again.

"Shh! Shut Up!" I shushed him, reaching into the hole and tugging at the bag.

"You never let me talk-" Frankie continued.

"Frankie shut the fuck up! Look!" I screamed when the bag came out of the wall and into my hands. I Twisted on my heel and showed him the bag, which contained a huge stack of One-hundred dollar bills.

"Holy Fuck." Frankie gulped, making eye contact with me.

TAGLIST @tanyaherondale @winter-fox-queen @supernaturalgirl @actual-spawn-of-satan @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @shadowolf993 @goldielocks2004

*if your user has a strike through, it wouldn’t let me tag you*

[waywardimpalawriter]

Ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader)

Ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, hurt, comfort, 

Word count: 1,795 (It wasn’t suppose to be this long, seems I can never write anything shorter than a 1,000 words.)

Summary: Lone phone booth, broken hearts and empty words, promises he tries to keep. Wanting to make his way back with the sunshine.

Notes: Let me start by saying I’m sorry but I’m not really. You may need tissues. Written for the very lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog​ for Writer Wednesday. I figured since last weeks was fluffy I’d break out a little angst for this week. Set before and right after the events in Triple Frontier. Inspired by the amazing Bill Withers song “Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone.”

“You’re promised no more trips, you’d stay home help raise Luciana, be here,” last words whispered more to yourself than to the man standing opposite. Knowing what you signed up for being the girlfriend of a military man. It’s different now though he’s out, no more deployments to places all God knew about. Going weeks, mostly months without seeing him. Warm body held tightly in your arms when he came home, soothing the nightmares that followed.  

Dropping his head, chin resting on his chest not wanting to look into those hurt eyes. For anyone else he’d say no but these fella’s are family, you know this having taken them all in like brothers. Frankie understood your anger more directed at the fact he’s leaving you alone when he’s promised that would never happen again. “I’m sorry mi amor,” raising his head to stare at you. Crystalline tears catch light from the near by lamp glinting mockingly. Knowing sorry isn’t enough empty words and promises laying bare between the both of you.

“How…” arms wrapping around you plush middle. Fending off the worry and holding yourself together even for a few moments. “How long?”

Taking a step towards you, “Three days max. Pope says it’s just a quick recon and intel job. You won’t even miss me.” Corny joke tasting bitter on his tongue that licks across dry lips. Unsure if you’d accept him right now but wanting to hold you so badly. “It’ll be quick and easy sweetheart, then I’ll be back with my girls.”

“Three days?” Seeing him nod you swallow harshly staying still for a moment longer. Till you couldn’t stop yourself from running into his arms, wrapping them so tightly around his body the air is knocked from his lungs. Vise grips of flesh and bone holding on securely, wishing the trip would already be over. “You come back to me you hear Fransisco Morales or so help me I’ll search all over this God forsaken planet till I find you myself.” Words muttered and clogged with tears streaming down cold cheeks. “You have a daughter to raise…”

“And a woman to love,” peeling himself back from your embrace. His own arms resting on your thick waist, large hands splayed out over your back taking in your warmth and love. “I promise mi amor I’ll be back in no time.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask him to stay. Plead your case, demand he make good on those promises spoken with the last deployment. Yet, you know this is different and that’s what scares you the most truly. You’d loose so much with this one trip. They won’t have backing by the government in case… pushing those thoughts away you press yourself deeper into Frankie’s body. Stealing his calm, trying to soak it into your veins and sooth your nerves. Knowing the only way to truly do that is by having him stay and you’d never be selfish to ask.

“You know there’s no sunshine when you’re gone,” pressing your lips to the little patch of missing hair in his scruffy beard. “Come back to me Frankie I can’t do this without you.”

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

It's not warm when she's away

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And she's always gone too long

Anytime she's goes away

A week and two days he’s been gone. Nerves shot to hell you asked Will’s girlfriend Abby to watch Luciana for a couple of hours. Knowing the other woman needed a distraction from the worry just as much. You scooping up the keys, placing a quick kiss to your daughter’s forehead, a nod to Abby and you’re out the door. Heading to that little spot you and Frankie like to camp. Drawing a smidgeon of peace from the place that’s much loved between you.

Trying to keep those pesky, traitorous thoughts from invading your mind. Imagines long forgotten with the Delta force days behind you, resurface every night Frankie’s gone. Picturing the worst every time your eyes close. Fists clinching at your sides long sorrow filled scream winds itself from deep within your chest. Thankful no living humans are around to hear the agony scare any woodland creatures far away. Screaming till your throat is raw and parched. Dropping to your knees not caring about the dirt and buries that’ll show up later. In the back of your mind the little voice chastising you for having so little faith in Frankie.

It couldn’t be helped thought, you missed your sunshine. Wanted his presence more than your next breath. To see that ratting Standard Heating oil cap cover his curls, left dimple making an appearance when he smiles at you. Wrapping your arms around his body drinking in the scent of piney woods, touched with motor oil and a spice that’s all Frankie. Afraid of what state he’ll be in that is if he returns. Face pressed into shaky hands hiding from the world as tears coat the palms in salty moisture while rocking your body. Trying to push those thoughts out of your mind to form happier, sun filled ones. Not realizing the rain started to fall from heavy laden clouds, promising a soaker of a storm. Till ramblings of thunder make you gasp and look up. Fitting stormy grey skies meet your sorrowful eyes. Raindrops hitting your upturned face, dropping   into your eyes making them blink closed. Heart aching for the man you love and wishing for Aladdin’s magic lamp to grant you just one precious wish that’s all you needed.

Shivering from your soaked clothes, gusty winds howling through the pines returning your grief. Slowly you manage to drag yourself up and back to Frankie’s truck. Sitting watching the rain slash against the aged windshield. Creating different rivers and puddles of water, sunlight catching a perfect drop when the clouds part and shine into the cab and over your face. Warming the cool skin as a sob leaves your throat praying this burst of light is a good omen.

Wonder this time where she's gone

Wonder if she's gone to stay

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away

You stare at the cell phone laying on the seat beside you. Hoping it’ll ring with a number you don’t recognize. Pleading for some kind of answer anything to stop the worry. When no answer me dance lights the piece of tech you slam an open palm against the steer wheel unable to keep the tears from sliding down your face. Unaware of how long you’ve sat there eyes closed rain pouring down around you.

Bill Withers smooth tenor making you jump and clutch at your chest. Eyes flying open to stare out into the utter darkness surrounding you not recognizing the ringtone for half a second. Fear and dread incasing your wildly thumping heart as you reach out for the cell phone. Not recognizing the number, you shakily press and slide your finger. Putting the phone to your ear breath lodged in your throat. Dry and deep from screaming, “Frankie?”

Shattering at the sound of your sweet scratching voice, Frankie sags against the phone booth. Warm glass meeting sweat soaked button up covered back trying to hold in the sob. “It’s me mi corazón,” finally answering short whimper on the end of the endearment. Making him bite the inside of his cheek to stop any other sounds from escaping. Dragging in the humid night air to fill his lungs and steady his heart. The heat is oppressive hanging heavy around the small glass and metal enclosure as his large hand grips the weathered plastic receiver.

“What happened mi sol?” Fear gripping tightly around your heart at hearing the sorrow in his voice. Aching to hold him and chase away the darkness you know will follow.

Pressing a hand to the glass cursing the fact this call wouldn’t be long enough to explain himself. “When I get home I’ll tell you everything sweetheart. I’m on an old pay hone right now so there’s not much time. I just…” swallowing harshly, eyes closing over those sadden brown eyes. “I needed to hear your voice.”

“I’m here baby,” wiping at the tears of relief and sitting up straighter in the bench truck seat. It didn’t matter what happened just knowing he’s alive and coming home to you it all that’s important. They could sort out the rest in time. “When are you coming home Frankie? Luciana misses her daddy.”

Watery chuckle leaves his lips, head resting on the dirty glass behind him, “I’ve missed her to hermosa,” taking another breath to steady himself. “I love you so fucking much.”

Heart clinching tightly at his words the desperation in the tone destroying you. Responding without thought, “I love you to Frankie,” gulping in a breath whimpers bitten off to keep from him knowing how torn up you are. Clap of thunder followed the streaks of lighting illuminating the night sky making you jump and gasp.

“Where are you sweetheart?” Having heard the thunder a little too loudly for you to be at home.

For the first time in your relationship you think of lying to him so he didn’t worry. But you remember the promise made and wouldn’t break it. “Our place,” comes the short answer hearing silence on the other end and you think he’s run out of time.

Finally finding his voice pushing through the pain in his heart. “I’m sorry mi corazón we… I never should’ve…”

“Shh Frankie it’s okay I came here to be closer to you. Wishing for you to call and you did,” soft chuckle leaving your mouth accompanying a small sob. “My sunshine broke through to let me know you were okay and coming home before you called.”

Pulling his cap off to rest on top the worn metal of the cradle and run a shaky hand through his curls. “I think you have that backwards, you’re my sunshine sweetheart and I can’t wait till I see you shine for me.” Electronic voice reminding him of the seconds he has left, precious and too few for his liking. “I’ve got to go mi corazón. I’ll be home soon I promise, I love you.”

“I love…” words cut off making Frankie curse and slam the receiver back into the cradle wanting to kick the old piece of junk. But knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere but a busted foot most likely. He settles for slapping a palm against the glass before snatching up his cap and leaving the claustrophobic inducing box without a backwards glance. Setting his sights on the airport a short power walk away, towards home and into the arms of his girls.

[aellynera]

Slingshot (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

SLINGSHOT

(this was inspired by the song “Slingshot” by Ellis Paul, which i think is one of the loveliest love songs ever written, and is something i could hear Llewyn playing on his guitar.)

Word Count: 2412(ish)

Summary: There are many different kinds of storms. Some are fierce, some are quieter, and some walk around with a name and show up in your apartment at three o’clock in the morning.

Warnings: Not really. Maybe a bad word or two.

It was late, almost three in the morning, and you had tried all you could to fall asleep. Mindlessly watching some TV. Listening to soft music on your old second-hand record player. Hot shower. Hot cup of tea. Cold shower, since it was getting more humid outside and therefore hotter in your apartment. Glass of water. Another shower, but just warm instead of hot.

Still awake.

You sighed and filled the kettle again, preparing to make another cup of tea. You knew it was probably useless, but thought perhaps, just maybe, it would work this time. At least your lip had stopped bleeding and the side of your face was now a dull throb instead of the excruciating, blinding torment it had been a few hours ago.

You sighed as you set the kettle on the heating stove and turned to search for a clean mug. There was exactly one, of the entire three you owned, that wasn’t in the sink to be washed. Grabbing it, you unceremoniously tossed a tea bag in as you waited for the kettle to boil. And then you almost dropped it when you heard a voice coming from the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”

You sighed as you just barely managed to keep a grip on the mug. Dropping it and watching it shatter across your kitchen floor would have made this horrible day infinitely shittier. You should have been more surprised but the sudden appearance, but in all honesty, you really were not. It was more surprising that it was about to rain. The weather had been calm and tranquil no more than twenty minutes ago.

“Llewyn!” you hissed. “What the hell.”

He motioned over his shoulder towards the living room. “I was passin’ through, and I saw your window was open and it’s about to start pouring, and I figured maybe I didn’t have to get drenched so I came up the fire…” he paused as you closed your eyes and blew a breath out your nose. “Baby, what happened?”

You turned back to the stove. You forgot about your lip and winced when you went to bite it. Thank god your back was turned and he didn’t see it. All you wanted was to go to sleep and this was the last thing you needed right now. He was the last thing you needed right now.

“Don’t you baby me, Llewyn Davis. I haven’t seen you for weeks and now you...technically, you just committed a B&E, and you scared the shit out of me.” He didn’t, really. More like annoyed the shit out of you, after the day you’d had and the fact that you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

He huffed. It sounded slightly offended. “No I didn’t. Well, not the breakin’ part, anyway. Sorry if I scared you though.”

“Llewyn, you came in my window. Unannounced. No warning.”

“But there was no breaking,” he stressed, “because your window was open. So yeah, I only entered. Christ, anyone coulda come in here.” He motioned over his shoulder again and leaned on the doorjamb, idly picking at a stray thread on his glove.

An annoyed sort of squawk left your lips as you put the mug on the counter and pushed past him into the living room. Oh for the love of...you could do this, you could do this. Count to ten. Breathe. Think of harmless, inconsequential things like puppies and unicorns and daisies. Anything except how frustratingly...frustrating...the man in front of you could be. And how he’d disappeared for weeks and now just entered your apartment at nearly three o’clock in the damn morning like it was nothing.

But with Llewyn, it was never nothing. That was the problem.

“The window is open because it’s hot and it gets stuffy in here. And you didn’t answer my question,” you snapped, even as you pushed the window closed, maybe just a little harder than you meant to. You snapped the lock shut for good measure.

Llewyn shrugged, still eyeing your slightly swollen cheek and puffy lip. “I was around, just, y’know...and then I went to Chicago for a little while, and…”

“Chicago?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, long story.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away for a second. But it was only a second before his deep, dark eyes were back on you.

“They usually are, with you.”

“I write songs and stories, what can I say. Seriously, what happened to your face?”

You sighed and flopped onto the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows and hugging it to your chest. The sky outside was lighting up, rapid streaks of energy piercing the falling darkness. Fitting for how your whole night was still going. “It’s nothing. A couple of drunks got into a fist fight and I got caught in the crossfire.”

Now Llewyn raised an eyebrow. Both of them. “Things gettin’ more exciting at the Gaslight since I’m outta town? Christ, I didn’t realize folk music was so explosive.” He moved over to the couch and sat down next to you.

“Folk music, not so much. Stray elbows to the face, a little more so.”

“Damn, sweetheart.” He reached a hand toward your cheek and you flinched. “Hey, I just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His voice was soft. So soft.

The kettle whistled shrilly and you sighed, started to get up. Llewyn stopped you and stood himself, then placed a kiss to the top of your head and went into the kitchen.

“Whose ass do I have to kick?” he asked as he poured boiling water from the kettle.

You snorted. “What, you gonna take on all the drunks in the Village?”

“If I have to. You gotta put the lunatics back in place when they think they’re runnin’ the shop.”

He came back into the living room and handed you the steaming mug of chamomile tea. You took it carefully from him and inhaled some of the steam as he returned to the spot next to you on the couch. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back against your shoulder.

Thunder rumbled loudly, the lightning strike that caused it close enough to make your window shake. It rolled in on itself several times, the sound slowly draining away as the air temporarily settled again.

You considered this for a few minutes as your earlier irritation with him began to dissolve. Llewyn was hard to figure out sometimes. He was cynical and rude and prone to misanthropy  on a fairly disturbing level; on the other hand, he could be hopeful and sweet, caring and at times even romantic. You were used to him coming and going, it was just part of who he was, but honestly...you wished more often than not that he would just stay. Things felt more right when he stayed.

You took a sip of tea and turned your head towards him, offering a wan smile. “I’m fine, really. It was just a couple drunk preppies. I can take down drunk preppies.”

He smiled back. “I know you can. You’re tough as shit. I wouldn’t wanna meet you in some dark alley. I’m just sayin’...I got your back, you know. If you need backup, I’m your guy.”

You hid your smile behind the mug now. “What are you gonna do, beat them over the head with your guitar?”

“Hell no. Jesus, what do you think I am, some kind of savage?” You had to giggle. Llewyn honestly did look offended now, at the mere thought of any damage coming to that beloved instrument. 

“Nah, my nephew Danny gave me his slingshot. I’ll make sure I always have it in my pocket with a couple of rocks,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “Pop the drunk preps in the head a few times, get their attention. Maybe get ‘em to stop being douchebags.”

The laugh that was about to escape your lips stuck in your throat when you looked at Llewyn again, really looked, and saw the turmoil reflected in his eyes. He was trying to be light, but there was definitely a heaviness that overshadowed his mood.

The sky outside finally broke and rain lashed wildly at your window. A flash lit up the room briefly, followed by another resounding boom that rattled the pane of glass in its frame. And then the lights went out.

“Shit,” you muttered, finding the side table in the darkness and putting your mug down. You slipped your shoulder out from under Llewyn and started to get up. “I have candles in the drawer by the sink.”

“I know where they are, I got it,” he replied, getting up before you could. He went to the kitchen in the nearly pitch black, like he could see in the dark. You heard the drawer open and him rummage around, and then he was back in the living room, lighting a candle with his cigarette lighter and placing it on your coffee table.

You couldn’t quite explain the twinge you felt in your chest at his actions. It felt so casual, so normal, that he just knew where things were in your apartment because he was there often enough. That tickle of thought that I wish he would just stay crept into the back of your brain again.

You said nothing as Llewyn settled back down on the couch again. This time, he reached over and pulled on you gently so you were laying your head on his shoulder. The breath you let go was deep and entire, as if it were coming all the way up from the tips of your toes. He idly stroked your hair as the elements continued to thrash against the walls around you.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. You just watched the candle flicker and listened to the rain steadily bounce off the window.

“Sorry I disappeared on you,” Llewyn finally said, his voice low and quiet.

“You wanna talk about Chicago?” you asked, leaning into his warmth, not taking your eyes off the dancing flame of the candle.

You felt his shoulder move slightly as he shook his head. “Not really.”

You fell into silence again. The light touch of his fingers on your hair and the sound of the rain outside began to make your eyes heavy. The air inside was getting stuffy, from a combination of the humidity outside and the gentle heat from Llewyn’s arms and chest. The last bits of tension eased out of your limbs and you swore your face even stopped aching as much. Finally.

“You ever think about getting out of here, for real though?” your words were becoming tinged with sleep, soft and low and nearly a whisper.

“Out? Where would we go?” Llewyn chuckled, tilting his head down to place the lightest kiss on top of your hair.

We. He said where would we go, not where would I go, you realized. And he had apologized for leaving. You really started to wonder what had happened in Chicago.

“Dunno. Anywhere. A cabin in the middle of the woods.” Despite your suddenly sleepy comfort, a hint of amusement crept into your voice. “A hut on a beach somewhere.”

“Cabins in the middle of the woods are kind of horror movie,” he said. “And I’m not really big on sand.”

“Mmm. Okay, how about...a castle? We could build a castle somewhere, I’ll be the princess in the tower and you can be my one-man army, defending the keep with that slingshot in your back pocket,” you giggle. The rolling thunder of sleep was definitely starting to win over you now.

Llewyn stopped moving, then pulled himself out from behind you. For a few seconds you worried that you said something that was too much, that even suggesting that you be somewhere together and that he stay for once might be too much. The sudden loss of his comfort felt more stifling than the hot, uncirculated air in the room.

But he had said we, not I.

Where would we go?

Llewyn leaned over and blew out the candle. The next thing you knew, he had picked you up in his arms and was carrying you back towards the bedroom. The lights were still out, but your eyes had adjusted well enough to the dark to function. And Llewyn knew where he was going anyway.

He gently set you down on your bed and then, somewhat your surprise, stretched out next to you. Normally he would have just made his move to the couch. You made a note in your sleep-addled brain to ask him again about Chicago in the morning. Something had definitely happened, but...it could wait until morning.

He looked at you nervously, as if he were afraid you might decide to kick him off the bed and out into the storm outside. You gave him a sleepy smile and reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling it to your chest, asking him to stay. Telling him to stay.

Some of the turmoil in his eyes seemed to disappear as he realized you were not, in fact, going to kick him out. Part of you realized that the storm outside had settled, the rain had stopped, with just a few distant peals of thunder clinging to the atmosphere.

He moved closer to you, pushed a stray lock of hair off your face, and kissed your forehead. “Don’t need a castle,” he whispered. “I got my princess. And I’ll protect this with a whole lot more than just a slingshot.”

“You sound like you’re writing a song,” you sighed. You turned onto your side and curled up into his chest.

“Hmm, maybe. That’s what I do,” he smiled into the dark.

“Llewyn…” you mumbled, the last flicker of consciousness slipping from you as the last flares of the storm outside faded away, “Stay.”

There was a magic cure for your sleeplessness and your pain. It wasn’t mugs of chamomile tea or warm baths or vapid images on your television screen. It was thunderstorms and mysteries and open windows by your fire escape.

It was Llewyn.

The last two things you were aware of were his arms slipping around you to hold you close and his hushed reply.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.”

~end~

tag list: @anetteaneta @darksideofclarke @girlwiththemostcake @rosemarysbaby13

(if you would like to be tagged in future fics, just let me know!)

[lostonehero]

Under the full moon

Tw mentions of sexual assault and abuse, hospitals, animal attack

Nanu was a life saver, he managed to pull some strings and get Cyrus to Alohla without any suspicion or even his sisters finding out. Guzma was practically walking on air when he arrived back in Alohla, Cyrus in tow looking uncomfortable in the heat even though it was cooler as the night sky lit up the sky as the full moon hung up above.

Guzma watched Cyrus stare up at the starry sky, he could see the smaller trying to suppress a smile of wonder as he looked.

Cyrus was still distracted as a growl was heard from the bush and a large lyconrock jumped the two biting Cyrus's arm with a loud sickening crunch.

The next few hours were a blur to both Cyrus and Guzma, but what was clear was the end where Guzma's large frame was contorted awkwardly in a small hospital chair as he fell into an uneasy sleep watching over Cyrus. Cyrus woke up to the sounds of hospital equipment he knew all too well from being a sickly child growing up. He wanted to bolt out of bed, but he looked over and saw Guzma and he couldn't bare to abandon him.

He groans covering his face with his one good hand the other was bandaged to hell and back to the point where he couldn't move it. Feelings were not something he was equipped to deal with and Guzma brought up so many, and he wanted to spill his guts be open with him, but he wasn't as strong as he was. He could never be as great as Guzma needed him to be. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and wiped his eyes. He just wanted Guzma close thats it.

......

Plumeria was one of the three now that knew of Guzma's secret, the man was half siren. She didn't know the specifics but she did know that his mother that raised him wasn't the one who had him. That wasn't important what was important was how frustrated she was getting with Guzma what she could only call nesting, his new sinnoh friend was coming back from the hospital. Guzma insisted that they were just friends but she wasn't an idiot and could feel the tension between the two hell she could probably cut it with a knife, even there pokemon notice it.

She sighed watching Guzma again rearrange his bed again, and yet he refuses to admit that they would even share a room. "GUZMA." She shouts annoyed as all hell.

Guzma stiffens and shoots up. "Plumes you know better then to sneak up on me sides I haven't done anything wrong."

"That's not the point everyone in this house can hear you moving your furniture for the nth time today Guzma."

"So nobody but you has complained."

Plumeria gave an auditable sigh. "Guzma you know none of the grunts would ever bother you when you're in one of your moods."

"I'm not upset Plumes "

"They don't know that."

Guzma looks away somewhat embarrassed. "Shit yo didn't mean to "

~~~later that day at the hospital~~

Cyrus moves his now freed arm from the cast, he had never healed this fast before. His arm didn't hurt he just had a pink mark left on his arm from the bite. It was kind of odd, maybe it was a side effect from the distortion world, but in reality he didn't know. He cuts off his own thoughts spotting Guzma and he swore his heart skipped a beat when there eyes locked, he decided to push thoes feelings down. He would deal with that later even if his heart was still beating out of his chest when Guzma approached close enough he could smell the scent of moss, honey, and even the sea off of him.

Wait

Cyrus didn't have a good sense of smell to beginning with, he used his sense of time to cook to perfection. As a child due to his sicknesses his sense of smell was partially damaged. Alarm bells rung loud in his head but were went silent when Guzma pulled him into a hug and all the panic dissipated from his head like the clouds after a storm.

"Cy look at you all patched up you had me all worried." Guzma was loud as always but it was comforting.

"You seem perfectly content without me." Cyrus bristles at the praise as his entire being screams at him to lean into it. He was scared of seeming soft.

"Ah I'm glad a hospital visit hasn't changed you I set up my room nice for you till you can find a place in po town, I mean if you want to stay there you don't have to if you don't wanna."

That was the last thing Cyrus could ever want to be away from Guzma. "Your room will suffice for now." He answers a bit too quickly for his own liking. He probably sounded needed but that thought had no room to grow when he heard Guzma chirp and grin.

"Your boy made it so comfy for you spaceman you're going to love it."

Cyrus covers his face quickly he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his lips. Something was different and he couldn't understand why his emotions were so easy to keep under wraps maybe the pokemon bite had side effects.

.......

Guzma loves the fact Cyrus decided to stay in his room, and he loved the nest he made too, fuck he never knew embracing the siren half of himself would actually feel good. Maybe it was because he had the right partner. He quickly shook his head Cyrus wasn't into him like that, and he knew not to force anything onto the smaller man. Cyrus's half sister had done that, well more so used him as some sort of plaything and he let her.

He couldn't let anyone use him like that again, he couldn't let anyone have control over him again like his siren half begged. He wanted Cyrus to control the bedroom he wanted Cyrus to make the decisions when it came to his body like she forced herself into that role. Guzma groans turning over to look at Cyrus sleeping. He wasn't weezing so the wet air was helping his lungs hopefully.

Guzma stared at his sleeping form his heart twisted and raw wanting to love again, but his mind was already hurt too many times, but what screamed louded then both was his siren instincts that refused to be silenced anymore and insisted that he let Cyrus claim him. He was getting a headache, and angry at his conflicted feelings, and he knew when he got upset he broke things and he really didn't want to wake up Cyrus.

He sat up pulling at his hair his feelings only growing more complicated as he let them fester. He wanted to punch something but he heard a soft whimper come from his sleeping companion and all his thoughts seem to bend into one cohesive thought. He needed to comfort Cyrus.

He wrapped himself around the smaller man who seems to melt in his touch and all the worry and pain drains into bliss as he falls back into a deep sleep.

A small sense of pride seems to grow in Guzma chest as he drifted off listening to Cyrus sleep softly next to him.

.....

..

Cyrus's temper was like a fire cracker even his pokemon noticed and ran to Guzma when he showed slight frustration. His houndoom however kept his attention for some reason Cyrus was now content chasing after his dog pokemon and she was happy to comply. She obviously knew something changed within him, but atlas he could not understand her.

"The humid air seems to really help you Cyrus." Guzma hums in the small pond behind Po town his gosilepod was splashing around with him. Cyrus wouldn't call it a pond it was more of a micro lake it was deep enough that Guzma could dive down to explore the many caves it hid below.

Cyrus pauses letting that comment sink in. Guzma was right he hasn't had any lung issues since arriving to Alohla. He was even running around like he had the energy of a child. "I concede that I have been feeling much better here then I have sinnoh, but it is much too hot here."

Guzma rolls his eyes and splashes Cyrus with his tail. "Cooled off enough?"

Cyrus against his normal facade and how he liked to act he scoffs and croches near the water and splashes Guzma back and even laughs.

His own pokemon froze hearing that noise and seeing Cyrus smile was an enigma in itself.

Guzma challenged this and splashed again causing an all out water fight, and Cyrus couldn't remeber any other time where he felt this happy. He felt safe as Guzma carried him back into the Shady House. He knew this wasn't normal behavior for him but Guzma was carrying him and his smile was so nice. He clung to Guzma like he was the best treasure he had ever found.

.....

Cyrus could not get comfortable for the life of him, his own skin felt too tight, and wrong. He felt miserable and just needed something. He flips over again in the mock nest Guzma made he had pushed the larger man out an hour ago.

"Cyrus?"

Cyrus groans and glares at Guzma from the position he was in on the bed.

"Good your awake I need to talk to you."

Cyrus stretches and sits up. "Its not as my body will let me get comfortable go ahead." He says with more bite then he wanted to.

Guzma seems to hesitate and Cyrus doesn't want to be alone right now, why did he sound annoyed, but Guzma didn't leave he took a breath and sat in his throne. "Do you mind if I get personal Cyrus? I'm loosing my courage here, stupid Guzma."

"You're ok, please speak your mind." For some reason Guzma being there made him feel better and all he wanted was for him to be comfortable to, only to return the favor. That thought was tact on but he wouldn't acknowledge that fact.

Guzma's face turns red as he stumbles over his words forgetting English for a second. "Cyrus I want you to take control, I mean I just my siren half has been screaming at me for you and I fuck I fucking like you a lot and I want to be vulnerable around you. Not like how your sister forced that out of my with you I feel safe enough to let you see the real stuff." Guzma sighs putting his face in his hands. "I like you spaceman and I want you to yaknow do the nasty with me I want you to control the scene, I want you to take care of me."

Cyrus could feel his own face heat up his mind wasn't entirely there anymore but he somehow knew exactly what Guzma was asking and he wanted the same thing. His voice didn't sound like his own. "I love you too- I -gah" his own words cut off as a scream escapes from his lips as burning hot pain fills his his veins. His whole body felt as it was on fire and that was the last thing Cyrus can remember before it went black.

.....

Plumeria lead the charge hearing the scream come from Guzma's room a few brave grunts followed behind her as they opened the door they expected the worse, but that isnt what they got.

Guzma was laughing trying to pull a lyconrock that was five times bigger then normal off of him it was also completely blue like Cyrus's hair. The closest thing to an attack the dog was doing was locking Guzma senseless as there tail wagged hard and fast.

The grunts seem to braven up even more as one shouted puppy then the rest piled into the room petting the dog who seems to melt at the attetion and Guzma could finally get up but he didn't stop smiling.

"Cyrus is the puppy Grunts." Guzma got through his laughter as the dog Cyrus began another lick attack.

The grunts gasps as cheers of werewolf ran through along with spaceman is puppy space man, along with team skull mascot.

Guzma was having too much fun to notice or listen to what his grunts were saying.

.....

Cyrus woke up startled he was just in the worst pain in his life where was he now. His panic ebbed away into comfort as he realized he was curled around Guzma his scent was everywhere, and that purple tattoo was a dead giveaway. He absolutely no memory of what occurred last night nor did he know where his clothes went. Wait why was he wearing a collar did they have sex? Was he drugged? Guzma confessed his feelings did he use him?

Cyrus's own stomach growling made him stop his downward spiral of thoughts. He was starving, was that normal after sex? He needed to research. Guzma shift making Cyrus give a startled oof noise in response.

"Oh you're back to normal, the grunts were right." Guzma yawns and stretches. "Man you kept us up till like 4 in the morning."

This brought up more questions, so he didn't have sex, the grunts were involved, and he wasn't normal. His face must of betrayed him because Guzma was looking at him with concern.

"You don't remember last night."

"I remember saying I love you." He says embarrassed and his voice a bit horsed.

This seems to ease some worry from Guzma's face but not all of it. "Well apparently Z one of the grunts likes looking into myths and he can say for certain werewolf, and now the grunts know about me because you kind of dragged me into the pool to go swimming."

"What?"

"It was actually kind of cute, I got upset and you did the whole ears and tail down and puppy dog eyes and actually you were fuckkng adorable and I couldn't stay mad at you but now the grunts are clamoring to make a full moon schedule that needs your approval of course." Guzma laughs. "For the first hour you wouldn't stop licking me you also kept trying to steal my socks."

Cyrus's face was red as he put his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry "

"Why it was a blast, and you make a great puppy Cy even if I'm a bug guy." Guzma chuckles. "Now we know it wasn't a normal pokemon bite."

Cyrus looks away. "You aren't mad? I outed you and I didn't even know until you told me."

"I mean no Cy you were being cute and now I have blackmail we took so many pictures. Want to see "

"Abostutley not." He gets up. "I'm going to get dressed then eat you can talk when you want to be civil "

Guzma laughs and gets up hugging Cyrus from behind. "I love you too Cyrus even if you can't express it well. I'll be emotional for the both of us."

This dried up every ounce of shame and anger Cyrus had at the new he could feel wet streaks down his cheeks before he realized he was crying. He immeditaly turned and buried his face into Guzma's chest. He refused to let go.

Guzma didn't realize what he said meant so much, but he didn't want to upset Cyrus anymore so he let the smaller man cry until he was done.

They got dressed in silence but left the room holding hands with a unspoken love between them only growing.

[sleepywriter84]

Zombie Au: A Whole New World

Inspired by SOCKS Zombie Au on twitter (their @ is o0oSocko0o https://twitter.com/o0oSocko0o?s=21 you should definitely check them out they’re so talented and amazing)

Chapter 1: Time to Catch a Flight

George’s Pov:

Tired. Walking through the thick forestry, he moans in disgust. The sun was beating down upon him, and all he wanted to do was make it back to his base. It was already annoyingly humid in the UK, and the tortue of having to go look for supplies in the blistering heat was too much.

Leaning against a tree, he throws his backpack to the ground. Reaching for his canister he takes a swig of the warm water. Adjusting the lid, he places it back into his bag. Sliding down the tree, he bathes in the cool shade that it provided for him. Sighing at the feeling, he stretches his legs.

The snap of a branch nearby startles him out of his relaxful state. Groaning, he stands up, the aching in his feet starting up again. Lazily throwing the bag that sat on the forest’s grounds around one of his shoulders, he starts to head towards the noise. Gripping the pistol in his hand, he maneuvers through the greenery.

Following the blue dots that seemed to be scattered around the forest, most of them painted on the center of a tree, he makes his way back towards his base. The pistol in his left hand is gripped tight as he turns and twists through the collection of trees, never letting his guard down since he was no longer following the road that went through the forest, which gave him open land. Here, deep in the forest, there were many ways to get lost and to accidentally walk into something he may not be able to escape. Praying that on his way back to his place he wouldn’t stumble upon the thing that broke a branch earlier, he quickened his pace, ignoring the aching in his foot which only seemed to get worse.

As the fence to the little cabin in the middle of the forest appears in his sight, he lets out a sigh of relief. As the familiar sight appears nearer and nearer he calms down a bit more, his body not as tense as it was when navigating the forest.

Unlocking the gate that surrounded the cabin, he smirks at the painting of a dog in blue on the mailbox next to it. When his group and him had found the abandoned cabin several weeks ago, they had found paint in the shed behind the house. There was a ton of it, but everyone decided to only use the blue one, the one he could see the best.

Shutting the fence gate, he struts through the tiny field. It was still a wonder on how everything happened, but that’s something he tried not to dwell on.

One second he was in his apartment playing minecraft, the next his roommate was screaming for help. He still can see the blood and guts spilling out of him, the awful stench and the dead eyes that looked right at him as they tore into his friend. Shuddering he tries to get the images out of his head.

After that he ran. For how long? He didn’t even know. All he knew was that he just kept going until he couldn’t carry himself anymore and he collapsed on the road. He would probably be dead if one of his group members didn’t stumble upon his body.

Making it to the front door of the cabin, he pushes it open, calling out into the musky air.

“I’m back!”

At the sound of his voice, the quick stomping of two pairs of feet make their way towards him. As the owners stop right in front of them, one of the owners, a blonde haired teen who is taller than George throws his hands forwards.

“Oi, George what did you get?” he asks, snatching the bag that George was offering him. Quickly rummaging through it, he throws things on the ground, earning a scoff from George.

“You shouldn’t do that Tommy” a brown haired boy who stood besides the blonde calls out, trying to catch the items that are being flung every which way.

Rolling his eyes the blonde stomps his foot, “George you had one job and this is all you bring. This… this will last us a week if not a couple days, you had one job George, one job. If Wilbur would let Tubbo and I go out on a supply hunt I bet we could do better. You know what, I know we could do better. I don’t understand why we have to stay here, I can defend myself. We can defend ourselves. Hell we were doing just fine before you and Wilbur stumbled upon us. Tubbo and I should have stayed by ourselves, then maybe we could actually do things. I just don’t understand why we can’t help, we would get so much more done and…”

“Tommy, calm!” a voice calls out, coming from the back door of the cabin. Looking behind the two boys, George sighs in relief as a tall curly haired man enters the room. Setting down his backpack on the ground, he throws off his beanie and starts to pick up the items that Tommy had thrown throughout the room. Grabbing the bag from Tommy’s hand, he places the miscellaneous items back where they belong. Once everything’s off the floor, he places the bag next to his.

“Tommy I thought we talked about this...” he sighs, throwing himself onto the couch and running his hands along his face, “...Tubbo and you are just boys, young men if I may. It’s safer for George and I to go out and get things instead of risking you two to the world. I swear we will all go out together again soon. But for now you have to stay here. In fact it’s more dangerous here then out there right now.”

“Yeah, how then, huh Soot, how is it more dangerous here?” Tommy barks, crossing his arms.

“One…” Wilbur begins, throwing his hand up and pointing his index finger up, “...we’ve been stuck in hell for a month, people are looking for a place, a safe place to stay, to bunker down. If they stumble upon here, heaven knows what they’ll do to you boys. Kill ya, torture ya, eat ya, I could go on you know”

Rolling his eyes, Tommy scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Tubbo shivers a bit from besides him.

“Second…” Wilbur starts again, throwing up a second finger, “...a horde could show up any minute now and you boys would be out in danger. You’d have to choose between trying to make a run for it while being surrounded, or hiding and praying they don’t come in. You think that I’m treating you like children, when I think having you stay here is the most important job. Yes we need supplies, but having a place to stay, a good protected place to stay, is important and is key to surviving. If you don’t find that important then be my guest to go out on your own for supplies because boys, i’m not in charge of you. You do as you may and as you please. If you want to leave, then leave. If you want to stay, then stay, i’m not holding you back.”

Pointing a finger at Tommy, Wilbur chuckles as Tommy huffs in anger. Storming out of the room, Tubbo sighs and sits down on the ground. As the pots and pans in the kitchen make loud clanging noises, George rubs the back of his neck. Strolling over to where Tubbo sat, he kneels down next to him. Reaching over to the backpack that sat against the wall, George scurries through it and takes out a chocolate bar.

Opening it, he breaks a piece off, offering it to Tubbo. With a smile and a nod, Tubbo grabs the piece, popping it into his mouth. Wilbur, watching the whole thing occur, coughs grabbing George’s attention. As they make eye contact, Wilbur raises his eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, George tosses a piece of the chocolate towards him. Catching it, he salutes towards George before settling further down into the sofa, closing his eyes and humming to himself.

After a couple minutes, Tommy stomps back into the room, putting bowls down in front of everyone. As he reaches Wilbur, he throws Wilburs feet off of the table that was in front of him, starling Wilbur and throwing him into a coughing fit. Walking back to the kitchen, as Tommy passess George, George offers him a piece of the candy bar. Yanking it out of his hand, he disappears back into the kitchen before coming back with a pan that had beans in it.

Scooping two spoonfuls of the beans into everyone's bowl, he sets the pan down and sits next to Tubbo and George. As everyone eats their serving, no one speaks.

After a couple of seconds, Tubbo finishes his bowl, standing up and taking it along with the pot of beans into the kitchen. After George finishes his bowl, he sets it down. Staring at the dirt on his hands, George cringes at the grimy feeling.

The sudden thud of a bowl on the wood floor of the cabin startles him, and he looks towards the source of the noise; Tommy.

“You know Wilbur, for an almighty bitch, you sure are a princess. Can’t even sit on the ground with us, you have to take up the whole sofa with your ass. Ever thought that you’re not royalty and that's not a throne.”

Scoffing, Wilbur throws a middle finger up before stretching and getting off the couch.

“You’re just jealous of me Tommy” Wilbur taunts, grabbing his bowl and offering his hand to pick up Tommy’s and George’s bowl.

“Whatever you say Soot” Tommy shoots back, yanking George’s bowl and his own and pushing it into Wilburs open hand.

As he walks towards the kitchen to join Tubbo, George watches him walk away. Looking back towards his hands, he glances at Tommy. It hadn’t been very long since all hell broke loose and they had all found each other, but no matter how long it had been, George could see just how different everyone is from when they first met.

For a tiny bit it was just him and Wilbur, and then they found Tommy and Tubbo. The boys were doing perfectly fine on their own, in fact George had wondered why the boys accepted their offer to join the duo, making it a group of four. But as time passed, George was able to connect the dots. Tommy and Tubbo were independent and perfectly fine on their own, but they also craved attention. They didn’t want to be alone, and the several days that the boys had stalked them prior to joining him and Wilbur made that clear. Watch from afar, and then decide if you could trust them. That’s what the boys did. They were desperate for human interaction, but nowadays trust is very slim.

“What are you looking at?” Tommy asks, his eyes squinting at George, like he was trying to read him.

“Nothing” George responds, not wanting to bring up what he was thinking about. Standing up, he goes to join Tubbo and Wilbur in the kitchen.

“Hey I can do that if you’d like?” George offers upon walking into the kitchen and seeing Tubbo frantically scrub a pot that they had made pie in a while ago.

“It’s fine, I enjoy doing dishes, it helps busy me” Tubbo replies, focusing back onto the pan.

“So how did your day go, George?” Wilbur calls out to him. Looking around for the tall man, his mouth drops as he finds the 6’5 man sitting on top of the fridge, his feet swinging off of it and his back hunched horribly in order to fit. The ceiling was tall but not that tall.

“It was okay I guess, very hot but better than when it was raining all of last week, those idiots can camouflage in the downpour. With their rotting skin they fit right in with the grey atmosphere at least now it’s bright” George explains walking over to the window of the back door and staring out of it.

“You know I’m surprised that we’ve been able to stay so long here…” Wilbur begins before looking grimly down at the ground, “... supplies are becoming scarce” he mutters.

Freezing, George crosses his arms looking down at his feet, holding himself. It was true. The more time they spent at the cabin, the less stuff they would stumble upon during hunts. Wilbur and George both only traveled a distance that would allow them to get back home before nightfall. It was an agreement they made so they wouldn’t leave the boys alone for a night. Nights were scary.

“We could also move forward, expand territory” George whispers already knowing the answer.

“You know we can’t”

“I know…”

“Why not?” Tommy interrupts walking into the kitchen where everyone was. “Oh that’s right, because you don’t trust us” he spits, sitting on the counter next to Tubbo who was still doing the dishes.

“How many times do I have to tell you Tommy, it's not that I don’t trust you. If you want to know the truth, I don’t trust them. You may think that I despise you, but it’s quite literally the opposite of that. I trust you, but not the people who roam those streets trying to survive, those people who all they want to do is rip into your flesh. Whether you like it or not, I care about you, and the fact that there is an outside world of idiots and people alike that are willing to do anything to survive scares me. People suck Tommy, dead or alive.”

“I know... I just feel so helpless. You and George go and do so much to help out, I just want to help” Tommy mumbles, hanging his head down.

“Well, you might get your wish. My side of the supply hunt is stripped bare, I can’t find anything else, George?”

“I picked the last of it today” George whispers, glancing up at the man on the fridge.

“With the amount of supplies here I say we have a week before we have to move house” Wilbur grunts, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Where are we going?” Tubbo whispers, stopping his frantic scrubbing at the pot to wait for Wilbur’s response.

“I don’t know Tubbo, I don’t know...” Wilbur admitted, “But wherever it is, I swear I’m not leaving anyone’s side. We’re here in this together.”

“I might have somewhere” Tommy speaks up, looking at all the bewildered faces in the room.

“Tubbo and I haven’t left the place, I swear. But earlier today, someone came on the property. Tubbo and I hid, but he, whoever he is, left this letter” Tommy explains, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. Hopping off of the counter he walks over to Wilbur, handing the paper up to him.

“What does it say?” George asks, walking away from the back door and towards the fridge.

“It says something about America, a plane if I remember right” Tommy reflects, tapping his foot and looking up at Wilbur.

Clearing his throat, Wilbur opens the letter and begins to read it, “Whoever this may concern, we’ve chosen you to attend our event. After carefully watching several groups of survivors, we’ve decided you are one of the many groups we’ve studied that may have hope yet. I am a pilot, and my group has been able to collect enough resources to fly out to America. We have reason to believe that America is safe, and ask you to join us on this journey. Due to us only having one plane, not everyone who receives this letter will be able to make the plane ride, so first come first serve. If you’re interested please arrive at the Birmingham Airport as soon as possible.”

“Thoughts?” Tommy asks, as he walks back over to where Tubbo stood.

“It could be a trap, a lie..” George begins, but Tommy cuts him off.

“Yes it could, but what better option do we have. We are in the middle of the woods, and we have to leave soon. We can spend several days, even months on the search for a place to bunker down, or we can take a chance. Walk towards the airport, check if it's legit, if it's safe. If it isn’t we will be near settlement, we can find a place to bunker down in again” Tommy elaborates.

Running a hand along his face, Wilbur sighs before looking at George, “He’s right. We don’t have to commit to it, but we should give it a look. We don’t know if we’ll be able to find another place to stay. Also, we would have to head that way anyways. That is where the city is, where supplies are. We can’t wander around aimless, we need a goal”

“I know, but what happened to people suck” George barks, hanging his head and kicking at the ground.

Sliding off of the fridge, Wilbur walks over to George, placing his hands on George’s shoulders, “I know you’re scared, you’re nervous. We could very much be walking into a trap, and if you don’t want to go, you can stay here. I will give you everything you need to survive. But George, we have to do this. I don’t want to lose any of you, I don’t want to lose the boys. Its a chance, one that’ll put us all at risk` but we can’t always play this game safe”

“I know” George croaks, tears welling up in his eyes. Everything was so dangerous, nothing was safe, and the images of what happened to his roommate floods through his head, along with new ones of his new friends being torn apart by the idiots.

“Everyone who is willing to take this chance, raise your hand” Wilbur calls out, taking one of his hands and raising it in the air, his other hand still placed firmly on George’s shoulder.

As Tommy and Tubbo raise their hands, George takes a deep breath and meekly raises his hand up. Smiling, Wilbur squeezes George's shoulder, glancing towards the boys near the sink who had small smiles planted on their faces.

“Alright so it's decided…” Wilbur begins, looking around at his group,“...we have a flight to catch”.

AN: link to the prologue

[hesesols]

Into the WILD

Day 16 of Ichiruki month 2020

Trapped inside fantasy MMORPG. Send help please?

Rating: T

FF/ao3

.

The first thing that strikes him as odd is that the ground underneath him is dewy soft. Not that the carpet in his tiny student accommodation isn't soft. It just isn't as soft by comparison and doesn't smell so strongly of grass and urgh- he hates pollen with a vengeance.

It makes his nose itch like mad and –

Wait!

Last time he checked summer was already over and the northern hemisphere was entering early autumn.

.

Brown eyes open in alarm.

The sun is in his eyes as he sits up and he's lying in a sea of golden tulips and ruby red camellias, blades of grass and crushed flowers under his fingertips.

He isn't alone.

There are others next to him. Each one garbed in unusual medieval clothing- intimidating-looking armours with spikes and brightly-coloured capes, fur-trimmings and equally garish-looking armbands; brandishing weapons that range from claymores to wooden staffs. Everyone seems to be in more or less the same state of disbelief and wide-eyed amazement at their new surroundings.

Where are they?

And holy shit! Is that a real-life armoured bear?

.

"You look like you could use a hand there, Kurosaki."

"Ishida?"

Ishida or at least who he assumes to be Ishida- his annoying cousin of sorts and fellow guild member- stands in front of him, offering an outstretched hand. Ichigo recognizes the voice but those pointy ears, the gleaming ivory bow that stands at a grown man's height and strange cleric-like clothing- those are definitely new. He grabs hold of it and pulls himself up, wiping at the grass stains with a fierce scowl before turning to the strange elf-like creature.

"What are you wearing?

Uryuu snorts, "I could ask you the very same question, Kurosaki."

Ichigo glances at the midnight black armour he has on- light weight, extra resistance to magic and +25% endurance to all physical attacks- wait, where did that come from?- the reassuring weight of Zangetsu in his hands-

He blinks.

.

Name: Zangetsu. Also known as: Sword of the Moon, Cursed Fang. Status: Legendary. Raid item from the Sacking of the Gollum King's Palace at Hueco Mundo. The mythical black blade forged by the Grandmaster Yhwach over the Fires of Sokyouku for a full year and a half in preparation for the Conquest of the Soul King's Throne (see also Conquest of the Soul King's Throne). Grants the wielder—

.

Reeling from the surprise, he falls flat on the grass.

How the hell did that just happen? How did all those words and background information just pop into his head unprompted? Almost like they're in a fantasy RPG gam—

"What's going on?"

Uryuu's smile is grim and sardonic, sliding the half-moon glasses up the bridge of his nose before he tells him, "Don't freak out but I think we're inside the game."

.

.

.

"Anything?"

Uryuu shakes his head.

Ichigo sighs. The lines of communication are down and no one has been able to log back out into the real world since they first entered.

"This doesn't make any sense at all!"

10,000 WILD players across the world and different servers who were online and active at precisely 12 midnight that day somehow found themselves transported into the game world and trapped there as their game character persona.

They're calling it the Lockdown.

No one has a clue as to why they were the only people affected, nor do they know how they came to. One minute they were logged in, playing the game as usual; the next thing they know they're lying flat on their asses in this strange new world strongly reminiscent of the game world of WILD, as their respective game characters.

He's one of the lucky ones he thinks. As a human Swords Master, there isn't much alteration to him besides the clothes and the muscle bulk added to his physique, unlike Chad who woke up as a bear armed to the teeth with a war axe and metal gauntlets. It wouldn't have been a pleasant wake up call for anyone, much less someone who wakes up trapped inside a fantasy MMORPG.

"What about Keigo then? Have you managed to locate him yet?"

Uryuu's eyebrow twitches. The pale blue glow from his hand falters for a fraction of a second when his attention shifts to shoot his guild leader a nasty glare.

Ichigo growls before mumbling out an apology to the raven-haired Cleric. He knows of course that Uryuu is trying his best and really in a strange new world that seems equal parts deadly and fascinating, the best is all they can do.

He's just … frustrated over the lack of answers and to make matters worse, one of their own still remains unaccounted for. Out of all the guild members who decided to switch servers during the Lockdown, it just had to be Keigo- scatterbrain extraordinaire. He wouldn't trust Keigo not to get sold on some crazy-ass get-rich-quick scheme in the real world, let alone in this virtual reality full of bloodthirsty monsters just waiting to make a nice dinner out of unsuspecting players.

The double doors to his studies are suddenly pushed apart, jolting him out of his thoughts. Orihime stumbles in barefooted and narrowly avoids tripping over the trail of her druidic dress robes in her excitement. Her cheeks are flushed and the pretty flowers in her flower crown bloom and blossom in magnificent shades of pinks and violets as she makes her announcement.

"Kurosaki-kun! I have his location!"

Ichigo jumps to his feet.

.

Finally!

.

It's the first piece of good news he's had since he found himself stranded here with the rest of his guild members.

"So where is the idiot then?"

Behind her, trails Tatsuki- their resident cynic and Shield Maiden who purses her lips and informs both him and Uryuu rather miserably, "You're not going to like this. He's in the Forest."

Ichigo resists the urge to face-palm as he sees Uryuu rubbing at his temple.

"Keigo must have been on his way back to HQ and decided to take the shorter route," Uryuu rationalizes things- as the team tactician he excels at it, "he couldn't possibly have known."

That's right. Keigo couldn't possibly have known that he would get sucked into the game and be left standing in place of his game character.

Tatsuki gives a derisive snort, "Doesn't make a difference. A level 25 Bard like him can't possibly survive the Forest of Hueco Mundo alone. He's going to get himself killed. The Forest is no man's land- level 70+ Hollows and player killers aren't warded out."

All eyes turn to their orange-haired team leader.

"What do you want us to do?"

Call it instincts but Ichigo has a nasty suspicion that player death in their new world would also mean certain death in the real world. The thought makes him nauseous and for obvious reasons, he isn't too keen on testing out the theory himself.

Keigo may be a pain-in-the-neck and downright insufferable at times but damn it! He's one of them. He's their pain-in-the-neck and they can't just leave him there.

In the real world, Ichigo Kurosaki may be just an ordinary university student bogged down by studies but here in WILD, he's a guild leader, it's his job to look after his guild members and he pledges to make sure that every single one of them makes it back home to the real world in one piece.

Ichigo heaves a loud weary sigh, grabbing the sleek black katana by his side.

"Let's go get our idiot back!"

.

.

.

"I told you we should have gone left instead of right!"

Tatsuki can feel her skull throbbing. She should have just stayed behind with Chad and Orihime.

"Stop yelling at me! It's not my bloody fault that you're so fucking incompetent that you couldn't get a better map!"

"Oh so I'm the incompetent one?! Never mind I was the one who organized the rations! We would have starved to death days ago if I hadn't triple checked our provisions!"

Tatsuki grimaces as the feel of exhaustion creeps in as does the unbearable chaffing on her thighs. It wasn't just the lines of communications that were shut off with the Lockdown. It turns out the Portals- their main means of transport have also been disrupted and that means that the full distance between Karakura and the Forest had to be covered by good old-fashioned horse-riding.

They've been riding nonstop since they left Karakura, trading horses with NPCs in the farmlands nearby to push ahead at a gruelling pace and rescue Keigo as soon as possible. It is a noble cause but the trade-off for the weeks' long worth of hard-riding leaves the three riders surly and sullen. This virtual reality that they're trapped in certainly feels real enough, right down to hunger pangs and sore muscles.

Chaffed thighs, bland food, little sleep and the heat (the sheer humidity was making her hair frizz) made for horrible traveling condition and it seems that both Ichigo and Uryuu are about to hit their respective boiling points.

She rolls her eyes, tugging at her horse's rein to halt.

"Both of you need to shut up before –"

A sudden rustling in the bushes nearby draws their collective attention and sure enough from the depth of the overgrown bushes, a Hollow emerges. This one seems more reptilian in features, flickering pink tongue and all. Something jumps at the back of her mind but Tatsuki ignores it.

The Guide is nothing more than a useless collection of WILD lore and trivia.

She doesn't need a lecture on Hollow classes and their special attacks to know that the only good Hollow is a dead one.

With a loud battle war cry, she unsheathes her blade and leads the charge, throwing herself against the beast.

.

.

Ichigo leaps through the dense foliage with Zangetsu drawn and bloodied in his hand. Despite Tatsuki's misgivings about his foolhardy plans and recklessness, the woman is just as bad with her own brand of battle lust, leading the charge like a crazy berserker.

All hell literally broke loose the second they stormed through the clearing. The sheer number of the Hollow horde overwhelmed them and forced them to break formation and the three of them took off in different directions in a bid to divide the remaining Hollows' attention.

He ducks behind a tree to catch his breath. Having lost sight of both Uryuu and Tatsuki during their retreat, he is in a sour mood and more than a little embarrassed that a level 98 Swordsmaster like him is being forced back by a horde of weakling Hollows in level 50s.

"Psst. Ichigo."

Ichigo grips Zangetsu tightly, eyes nervously darting at his surroundings. He could have sworn that he heard Keigo's voice. Well it's either that or he's officially losing his mind.

"Over here."

A head pops out from the bushes next to him and Ichigo reacts accordingly- nearly slicing the newcomer's head clean off his shoulder and Keigo almost becomes a casualty of friendly fire before Ichigo sees through the heavy layer of disguise and stops the blade mid-swing.

"Keigo?"

The bard is barely recognizable with his slashed and dirtied tunic, patches of dirt and dried leaves covering his face.

"The fuck you doing- sneaking up on me like that! I could have killed you!"

Keigo couldn't have cared less. With a loud wail and snot running down his face, he throws himself at his saviour and professes his undying gratitude in between hiccups and tears.

"ICHIGO! I knew you would come for me! I never doubted for a second!"

"Get off me! You stink!"

The happy reunion doesn't last as the roar of a Hollow and heavy footsteps of a lumbering giant still their movements. Ichigo pushes Keigo away from him and readies his blade, but even his quick reflexes are no match for the suddenness of the attack.

"ICHIGO!"

The Hollow's swipe knocks the air right out of him and sends him flying. The tree trunk of a young sapling snaps in half as his back connects painfully with it. The pain disorients him and he is enough of a doctor's son to recognize the signs of concussion. Also, he thinks he might have cracked a rib (or two) as fresh blood- metallic in taste gurgles past his throat.

His vision clears in time for him to see the Hollow- a Dragon class one with beady yellow, thick, iridescent scales covering its front and gigantic wings sprouted at his back, rearing up for another charge.

This time at Keigo, who is down on his knees- eyes wide with fear as he scrambles to get away from the advancing Hollow.

There's no time to think. Ichigo pushes everything he has- the very last spurt of HP and MP within him towards Keigo, taking his place before the monster with gapping mouth, awaiting certain death to come.

.

.

"Out of the way!"

His eyes snap open just in time to see a small lithe figure, sunlight reflecting off the bone white armour- so bright that he squints, leaping through air and landing gracefully on the Hollow's back. A glint of light flashes yet again and before his very eyes, one of the Hollow's tattered wings is cut off, an arc of blood spurts high into the air and the Hollow's roar of anguish follows.

"Are you deaf or stupid? Get out of the way!"

Ichigo doesn't hesitate. With Keigo tucked under his arm, he pushes past the pain and sprints for the clearing.

With them gone, the mysterious stranger makes quick work of the beast, easily dismantling its other wing before diving for the kill; sinking the white blade somewhere between the soft scruff, flabs of excess skin free from the scaly armour.

Ichigo watches in silence as the dying monster screeches in pain, a swan's song in roars of fury before it topples over with dead eyes, a fine cloud of dust from where its body fell.

With the urgency of the situation gone, he focuses on the newcomer. Sheathing Zangetsu as it becomes apparent from the markings and sigil on the stranger's shield and helmet that he is a Paladin, one dedicated to the path of the light. They're in safe hands- for now at least.

"Where did you come from?"

The Paladin regards him oddly.

"What do you mean?"

.

"Princess!"

Half a dozen of swords are suddenly drawn and held under their throats by what seems to be a band of armed knights. Their armours gleam with the same bone-white shine and the leader of the men- a tall redhead with inked markings across his forehead approaches them with a fierce scowl and the intent to kill.

Next to him, Keigo yelps.

"The fuck!" Ichigo curses. His chest hurts, he's barely standing on his feet and now this?

Can this day get any worse?

.

"Watch your mouth, you punk!" The redhead growls threateningly, "You're in the presence of the Princess."

Amber eyes narrow. Did they think he's stupid? There's no one vaguely even female in their company unless—

The Paladin removes his helmet and a cascade of black hair- dark as the night pours forth. Apple cheeks, soft petal lips and elfin features curtailed somewhat by the iciness of her stare and her unsmiling face.

Their eyes meet.

.

Oh!

.

The short stature suddenly makes so much sense. Ichigo gulps.

"They're Heroes, Renji."

Renji scowls and gives them a dirty look.

Ichigo's eyebrows knot in confusion. "Hang on- what do you mean by Heroes and how are you a princess? Royalty isn't a job class and Paladins don't call themselves Princesses. I don't care what level you are, that's not allowed by the game admins."

The smile on the woman's face- Ichigo doesn't know what to make of it, but he thinks he's about to be made into a fool of epic proportions, especially when she pushes past her armed guards and tilts his face up by the chin with the tip of her white blade.

Smirking with dark violet eyes gleaming, she tells him, "That's because I'm not a Hero. Look closer."

Sure enough- when Ichigo focuses his gaze at her, her presence is shrouded in golden aura. The Guide pings- very belatedly and most unhelpfully, he might add.

.

Name: HRH Princess Rukia of the noble house of the Kuchiki, heir apparent to the throne of Seireitei. Status: NPC

.

He bites his tongue.

"B-But- but NPCs aren't sentient," Keigo blurts out.

Ichigo turns just in time to see him give out a pained yelp, being pummelled by the angry redhead, "Oh I'll show you how non-sentient my fists are!"

He winces. That looks like it would hurt… a lot. But Keigo's an idiot with thick skin, he'll live.

Rukia- her name rolls off his tongue easily. He refuses to even entertain the idea of addressing her by her royal title. For starters, a princess isn't supposed to be a Paladin, or know how to fight or use a sword, or look this good while having him at her mercy.

He gulps when violet eyes narrow at him.

"And you? Do you think that NPCs are non-sentient beings too?"

Ichigo is a fast learner and gives a quick shake of his head.

"Good-" her lips curve into a smile, hair dipping low to tease at the contours of his face as she whispers into his ear- "Because this NPC just saved your life. I'll show you just how deadly I am with my sword before you dismiss me as just another background token NPC."

The sword tip leaves his neck.

"Now, hold still."

That's all the warning he gets before a green glow is emitted from her hands- smelling faintly of mint and something fresh he can't quite name. He shuts his eyes, letting the healing magic wash over him, knitting most of his superficial cuts and wounds back into place.

When the light fades, his chest still hurts but at the very least he feels a little less light-headed and breathes a little easier despite the pain.

He wants to thank her- both for her healing and her timely rescue from the Hollow but she refuses to meet his eyes.

"Renji," she barks at her captain of guards who immediately stands to attention.

"Take them with us. He needs a proper healer. I can't set his broken ribs."

"It's Ichigo!" he calls out, interrupting their conversation and earning himself a hard glare from Renji but Rukia's gaze is almost thoughtful.

"Can you still ride, Ichigo?"

He nods.

A horse is brought to him under Rukia's instructions and as soon as he is properly mounted with Keigo seated behind him, the woman sounds the horn, black hair unbound and flailing in the wind as she leads the company into a gallop.

"To Seireitei!"

.

.

FF/ao3

Review, like, comment or reblog to send some love my way pretties~~~

I have a thing for fantasy AUs. Can’t you tell? Click on link for rec list of some off-main Isekai/Game animes. I have a special place in my heart for them.

[levai]

Until We Meet Again //Levi x reader

synopsis : you seriously injure yourself in one of the expeditions, and levi finds you.

No, you wouldn't have dared to imagine this would happen to you. Maybe somewhen later in life, but not today. Most certainly not today. Not in this pathetic way.

You lie sideways, your vision blurred by wet strands of hair falling into your eyes. Your eyes droop, but now that you are awake, you force them to stay open. The ground beneath you feels cold, the humidity bleeds through your clothes, onto your skin. You push yourself to roll over, ignoring the fuming corpse laying only centimeters away, it's heat a stark contrast to how cold you are feeling. Your chest hurts with every breath you take.

Then you look up at the sky. You barely see it, with all the tall trees standing in it's way, casting their shadows upon you. But from what you see, it's overwhelming. It's so bright, there's barely any clouds floating about. You haven't felt like this ever since the first day you came to the surface with Furlan, Isabel and Levi. Your breath hitches.

You think of your friends; Where are they now? It takes you some time to recall the disaster that had struck only weeks prior.

Is Levi still with you? You hope with all your heart. Your lids flutter as you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The past weeks had been hard. So, so hard. You loved those two, as much as you could love someone who wasn't related by blood. Hell, you even loved them more than that.

Where is Levi right now? You hope he doesn't find you dead. He wouldn't be able to handle it. But on second thought- he would. He is a strong man. You know he would live on. Nonthless, him finding you like that; no, you don't dare think of it. He doesn't deserve this, it would be disgraceful.

Your jaw falls slack as you cough out a breath of air. You try, but you can't move your limbs, not even your fingers. Everything feels painfully heavy.

You recall the beginning of the mission, when you rode out into titan territory. Only hours ago you had a weird sensation spreading all throughout your being, a tingly feeling that was hard to ignore. You brushed it off, however, since you were nervous last time around, as well.

The sky was cloudy and grey. A storm was brewing. You glanced over, seeing Levi ride alongside you on his stallion, staring straight ahead, his eyes dark and serious. His lips had formed a thin line, his jaw was tense.

"We'll make it", you assured him.

"I know", he replies, sparing you a brief glance, "I know we will."

Right. You would survive. You didn't know how, but you'd make it. You just hoped someone would find you.

Out of thin air, as if it had only then appeared to spite you, the face of a five meter class appeared right before your horse, running straight into it, snapping it's neck with it's blunt teeth.

A gasp left your mouth and you reacted, only at the very last moment, throwing yourself off the horse.

A loud crack rang in your ears, but you had no choice but to scramble away and onto your feet. Your shoulder was in great pain. You almost crumbled again, but the adrenaline kept you pushing. That's what you were trained to do, weren't you? You ran.

Quickly, you looked back, seeing the titan crawl towards you at a rapid pace, its big, hazel eyes fixated on you. The next seconds would decide your fair. Either you lived- or you died.

You tripped as you moved out of it's grasps way, falling onto your shoulder once more. A shrill, pained yell broke from your throat, but you jumped on time. It persisted.

In a last attempt to save your life, you grabbed your blades and ran right into it's embrace. You stabbed your blades into it's eyes. It howled. Oh, how loud it was. You used your gear to retreat, but a sudden grab at your leg threw you to the ground once more.

You swore that beast could smell your fear. Your whole body froze. You couldn't die there. But just why couldn't you move?! Your head was pounding, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as laboured breaths left your throat.

No. This couldn't be happening.

"I promised!" you screamed hoarsely, slicing the arm that had gripped you, off.

"For Levi! For humanity!"

You backed off, overcome by another fit of paralyzing realisation. This could be your end. But you were still standing.

The titan was blinded. You had to use your time wisely. Everything around you was spinning, tilting from left to right.

You checked your gear with shaking fingers . It worked. It worked!

"Holy shit", you croaked.

You then ran towards a tree, tethering yourself up and onto a branch.

Thousands of thoughts and emotions swirled in your head when the titan looked up at you, it's large eyes glued on you. You were it's prey, it's instinct was to kill you.

The beast could have been someone's mother. Someone's father. Someone's brother or sister. If only things didn't have to be this way, you thought.

You dropped, and went in with all you had. Dull blades forced themselves into the nape of it's neck, cutting deep. There was no strength left in you to avenge yourself, to slice it up, to make it suffer.

It dropped to the ground, it's eyes rolling to the back of it's skull, with you on it's back. You weakly rose your swords in victory, swaying. You made it.

Then you lost your balance- and fall again. Your head hit the dirt hard. You won.

Your scream had been heard. The expedition was over, and the soldiers dispersed, searching for potential survivors.

Your instincts surpress your wish to just close your eyes and rest. You survived the attack and that's all that matters, even if now you lay on the ground, unable to move.

Birds are chirping somewhere above you. The distinct clattering of hooves against the ground fills the space. It comes closer and closer, stopping only shortly of you.

You wait, halting your breath. A gasp. Then the thump of someone landing on the ground and running towards you.

The irony of who drops to their knees beside your body makes you want to cry. Red locks fall onto your face, the earthy smell of her clothes hits your nostrils. Or is it just the earth beneath you?

"I...Isabel?" you whisper, in disbelief. She grins down at you, her green eyes sparkling.

"Hey sis!" she exclaims. You can't believe it. You want to say something, but your words are stuck in your throat.

"You look a mess", another speaks up. His voice is deep and soothing, laced with humour. He gently wipes a strand of hair from your face. Furlans touch is feathery, full of adoration, but his fingers are icy.

"Don't be rude! Nobody looks good after an expedition!" Isabel scolds, glaring at him.

"Alright, alright", Furlan replies, sighing, but still smiling. There's a silence.

"You're here... why?" you choke out, grasping their hands, gripping them as tight as you could.

"Hey- ouch, that hurts, you know? Did you get stronger?" the boy comments, raising an eyebrow.

"It's only been two weeks", you now sob, "And don't avoid the question! Why?"

Isabels expression falls.

"We came to get you."

Your eyes widen.

"No! No you can't!"

Furlan frowns.

"Why not?"

Isabel stays silent, her lips quiver. She squeezes your hand.

"Levi, I promised! " you croak out, before you burst into another coughing fit.

Furlan flinches. He looks like he wants to say something, but Isabel beats him to it.

"Stop. You won't convince her! She doesn't want to!"

Another silence engulfs you. You feel your heart breaking as you look at them, tearyeyed.

" 'M sorry", you mutter quietly, "So sorry..."

The blonde boy sighs, running a hand through his hair as he closes his eyes for a moment.

"Don't be. Your time hasn't come yet."

The two look down at you, their eyes beaming with warmth and adoration, with pain and longing.

Isabel sniffs.

"We miss you, you know?"

"I- I miss you too!" you mewl pathetically, crying uncontrollably. You place their hands against your hot cheeks.

A sudden shout in the distance seems to startle the two, causing them to sit up straight and look around.

You pick up on their restlessness. "Are you leaving again?"

"...We have to."

Both of them stand up, slowly letting go of you. You try to remember their faces before they leave. Isabels lively eyes and frizzy hair, her earthy smell and her dirty boots and her untidy uniform. Furlans soothing voice, his calloused hands and kind, mischievous smile. You will remember it all. You won't forget, you swear.

"We'll see eachother again. And then we'll have a lot of catching up to do!" Isabel says, smiling.

"You and Levi, stay safe. Until then, we'll keep your beds made. You know he wouldn't want to come home to see the sheets all tangled up!" Furlan adds.

You choke, but smile up at them through your tears. Your throat constricts even more.

"Just like in the good old days."

"Just like in the good old days. Please wait for us."

"We will. We promise."

Another shout disrupts the moment , and you know then, that it's time to say goodbye.

"Until then", you whisper hoarsely, stretching out your arm towards them.

"Until then", Furlan replies.

"Tell Levi bro I said hi", Isabel says.

You exchange one last smile. It's a sad one, but you feel relieved. They turn their backs and walk away, mount their horses and gallop away. You listen to them ride away, the tears continuing to flow, your heart aching, all other pain forgotten temporarily.

Levi's heart drops when he sees you lying out in the open. the sun casts it's warm rays on your unmoving body, making the scenery appear almost peaceful. It's as if his body moves on it's own, his sore muscles straining as he sprints towards you, falling to his knees by your side, praying to the forces up above that you are alive.

It's when he sees your chest rise and fall unsteadily, quiet whimpers leaving your mouth and glassy eyes meeting his, he feels relief.

"Levi", you whisper hoarsely, "You're alive!"

He inhales sharply and picks you up wordlessly, pressing his lips together tightly.

He carries you back in silence, careful as to not hurt you any more, until he arrives at the base. Levi gently places you onto the carriage, trying to set you up so you'd feel as comfortable as possible. He'd only seen you like this once in his life. Once, when you had been fatally wounded by a soldier after an unfortunate encounter with the MP's. It scared him to death. Erwin appears, glancing down at you and nodding. 'One body less to mourn over', he thinks, then leaves again, patting Levi on the back. His eyes never leave your closed one's. Ever so carefully, he bows down. You feel his lips touch your forehead. They are dry, but warm and gentle. They rest there for a moment, and as you drift in and out of consciousness, you manage to tell him one last thing.

"They said they'd wait for us."

Your voice is weak, but you smile, nimble fingers brushing his hair from his face.

Levis eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, but when he questions you further, you don't reply anymore.

The whole ride back Levi keeps looking out for you. He is nervous, fearing that you might leave him too. Your condition seems unstable.

But despite everything, the troops make it back. And the next day he visits you in the sanctuary, where he finds you sitting up in bed, staring out the window.

"You're awake", he states, his voice stern.

You turn to him, smiling.

"Indeed, I am. And you're barely injured, I'm glad", you say.

Levi snorts and sits down on a chair beside you. For a few moments you only look at eachother, smiling. You don't know if you're seeing things, but you see the corners of his mouth rise the slightest bit. You decide to not comment on it.

Instead, you decide to tell him everything. How you almost died by the hands of a titan, and about your encounter with your two best friends. This time you don't cry, though. Instead, you feel at peace.

For now, you are good. For now, you two are together.

"I thought I lost you", Levi admits, and you frown in distaste.

"So you didn't believe in me."

"I suppose I didnt. I don't think I ever will."

"Then I'll just have to keep proving myself to you."

That is a promise, he knows. Levi looks at you with adoration- to him, you are the most precious person in the world- and he is yours.

AN: thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 15/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774  

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey woke up around six in the afternoon. Her clothes stuck to her sweat-drenched skin, much like her hair. BB8 was lying in the back seat, chewing on her old sock.

She shuffled out of the car, wondering how on earth she was going to make herself presentable. She’d showered yesterday but it felt like ages ago—in a matter of hours she had sweated, taken a tumble in the leaves, wandered into a thorn bush, rolled around in a pile of nettles, fought with an actual bear, and managed to sweat even more in the aftermath. She was covered in dirt, scratches, and leaf litter. Not to mentioned that she reeked of dog slobber. At this point, a shower seemed less of a luxury and more of a necessity. But where was she going to do that?

She recoiled at the thought of calling Ben Solo again. Better not get too dependent, too burdensome...what kind of post-breakup-soul-searching-road-trip would this be if she was constantly relying on the first man that crossed her path?

She opted for a campsite, she would have to spend the night somewhere anyway. And since she was sleeping in the car she wouldn’t have to bother with the whole tent business. She was carrying a lightweight dress and makeup essentials in her bag. It would suffice for this evening. As for BB8, she would be coming along—the poor girl—she didn’t have to spend the evening chained to the car.

***

Cigarette in hand, Ben reviewed Snoke’s responses to the leaked information from Rey’s phone as he sat on the terrace of the Town Square Tavern.

According to his files, her employer—Smart Berries—was a London-based startup specializing in targeted advertising. Their app used a patented algorithm to identify potential customers for various businesses. It was nothing remotely compromising. They had zero presence abroad. Just a team of fifty people, most of them myopic computer geeks or Frappuccino-guzzling business newbies. No connection whatsoever with Earth Soldiers or FORCE. Rey’s primary contacts consisted of her ex-fiancé Finn Storm who also worked in IT, and his boyfriend Poe Dameron who was a mechanic. She went out for lunch every afternoon, paid her taxes on time, donated regularly to cancer research initiatives, and lived a generally uneventful life. No prior political engagement, revolutionary plotting, activism, or discernable link to any ecological organizations whatsoever. The investigation into Jessika Pava returned similar results. The one thing that stood out to Ben was that Rey was born to absentee parents and raised by an adopted family.

“That makes two of us,” he sighed as he picked up his phone to text her his location. She would likely show up on time.

In the central plaza, a crowd of onlookers had gathered to watch a group of comedians perform an Old West skit. Saloon girls strutted around in billowy red satin bloomers. Military men paraded in on horses waving the Stars and Stripes, and daring cowboys performed a mock duel with toy pistols. The crowd was in full swing, laughing and cheering along.

Night fell slowly, the air still humid, the sky eventually turning pitch black. Kylo and the band dispersed into the crowd, with the exception of Syed who was still under orders to shadow Rey. Wherever she went,  Syed was never far away. Syed tore through the crowd in Ben’s direction, silently wishing she was slicing through something else entirely.

Ben couldn’t help but find her beautiful, in her black leather pants, studded belt and combat boots. She stood in front of him, raising the cigarette she twirled between her fingers to her lips.

“So, how was your day?” he asked, feigning indifference.

“I went on a twelve mile hike, confronted a bear, saved your girlfriend’s life, and then watched her sleep for three hours. I wasn’t exactly idle. What about you?”

“You saved her life?” He exclaimed, no longer able to maintain a poker face.

“Yeah. She’ll probably tell you, she’s going to be here any minute now.” Syed responded, looking behind her as if to pick someone out of the crowd. Ben followed her gaze.

That’s when he saw her.

To this day he had only ever seen her in jeans and a t-shirt, her feet clad in ankle boots and her hair tousled at best. But now he hardly recognized the woman approaching him.

Rey was wearing a blush pink silk dress and high heeled sandals that accentuated her elegant figure. The silk flowed effortlessly down her body, held up by thin straps. She had evidently forgone a bra. Her hair was swept into a loose updo, with a few rebel strands escaping to frame her lightly  made-up face.

Ben suddenly felt overly warm. He swallowed the lump in his throat, cursing his own weakness as he felt a blush creeping up his face. Syed tapped him under the jaw.

“Close your mouth or you’re going to catch flies.” She intoned.

Rey held a small purse in one hand (just big enough for her phone and wallet) and a leash in the other. BB8 trotted along nearby, chewing contently on a red rubber ball that was too large for her jaw and wagging her tail excitedly.

But the dog froze as soon as she caught sight of Ben, growling viciously. The sound that came out was garbled, muffled by the rubber ball. Ben rose to pull out a chair for Rey. He had a hard time finding the right words.

“Good evening. You look...beautiful. What will you be drinking?”

“Margarita, thanks.”

She sat down, hanging the leash on the back of her chair. BB8’s eyes were still glued to Ben as the growling continued. He looked down on her disdainfully and contemplated a swift kick in her direction. The dog was easily within  range of his boot—but that would surely ruin the evening. He gingerly moved his foot away.

Syed broke her silence, crushing the end of her lipstick-stained cigarette into an ashtray. “I’m going to see what Saul is up to. Call me if you need me Kylo, I’ve got my cell.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels and disappeared into the sea of passers by. A waitress brought a margarita for Rey and a  pint of Rainier for Ben. They clinked glasses.

“So, did you have a good day?” Ben asked finally, strangely hesitant.

“I don’t know,” Rey replied, taking a long sip of the sugary tequila concoction through her straw. She looked up at Ben with gleaming eyes. “I fought a bear...”

“Oh, you too?” Ben asked, immediately regretting his untimely slip up.

Rey frowned, obviously perplexed. “What do you mean, me too? Do you know a lot of people who have fought bears?”

“Er no I meant—I thought it was just some British expression or something—to say that you’ve had a rough day?”

Rey burst out laughing.

Nice save.

“No, but it could be! Believe it or not, I fought an actual bear.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “If you fought a bear there’s no way you would have escaped, unscathed, to tell the tale.”

“You don’t believe me?” Rey feigned offense. “Would you bet on it?”

“A bet?” Ben took a gulp of his beer. He didn’t like where this conversation was headed. What the hell was the story with this bear? He knew Rey was danger-prone but this was too much even for her. “Alright, you’re on. What are the conditions?”

Rey lit up instantly. She had Ben right where she wanted him. He wasn’t particularly well dressed this evening but she found a surprising amount of grace, watching him in the dimming glow of twilight. His shoulders were massive and his mouth too large, his nose too long and his ears slightly too big for his face. She had lost count of his beauty marks. But it all seemed to work, his features coming together in atypical harmony. What she really liked was his hair. It fell in thick waves to the nape of his neck and she suddenly had the urge to run her fingers through it. The idea of sliding her nails through was enough to make heat bloom in her stomach.

She crossed her legs to clamp down on the impulse as she feigned an air of nonchalance. “If I can prove that I fought a bear today, you have to...let me pleat your hair.”

Ben broke out into a laugh—the genuine  sort of laughter that Rey had never heard from him before. She smiled. It suited him, tracing dimples along his cheeks and revealing a row of slightly imperfect teeth. The nth little flaw that added to the equilibrium of his face.

“No way,” he finally managed after he caught his breath.

Disappointed, Rey pressed her lips into an exaggerated pout. “Tell me, what would you counter, then?” Rey asked politely.

“If I win you have to teach your dog to like me,” Ben replied without missing a beat.

Rey smiled inwardly, she was touched by the fact that he wanted to make friends with BB. She couldn’t help but find his intentions adorable.

“Alright,” she agreed, but only if you let me do your hair.”

“Okay.”

That would cost him. He wasn’t afraid of looking ridiculous—what he was really afraid of was the feel of her fingers running against his scalp. Would he be able to keep himself in check? What if she noticed he was half-hard? But the truth was he had a lot to gain if he won the bet.

Rey grinned triumphantly, reaching into her bag to take out a piece of metal which she placed on the table.

Ben held it between his fingertips. “What is this? A bullet?”

“Yep. It belongs to the hunter who scared the bear off,” she confirmed.

“The bear...that you fought with?” Ben had a hard time buying it.

Rey launched into a story, gesticulating wildly as she recounted her adventure: BB8, the chipmunk, the bear and the invisible shooter.

Ben licked his lips. It all corresponded with what Syed had so succinctly reported: Confronted a bear, saved your girlfriend’s life. He could have denied it, could have asked for additional evidence that she would never be able to supply. But he already knew it was true. What point would there be in antagonizing her and calling her a liar?

He nodded. “Okay, you win.”

Rey raised her arms in victory, it was her turn to laugh. “Are you ready for a makeover?”

“Here?” Ben sputtered incredulously.

Rey grinned mischievously. “It’ll happen whenever and wherever I choose tonight,” she countered, sipping on the rest of her cocktail. She was hungry too, her stomach growled in complaint.

And so they ordered pizza. BB8 perked up at the scent. She didn’t hesitate to butt the table with her snout in begging for a slice.

Rey caught Ben’s attention. “Give her a little piece,” she whispered, “and then pet her gently. She’ll warm up to you.”

Ben obeyed, albeit with caution. The dog growled, but was unable to resist the temptation of hot pizza. She swallowed the piece whole with a single movement of her jaw. Ben slowly retrieved his hand. BB reclaimed her rightful place next to Rey, who stroked her affectionately.

“That’s it, good dog. See him? That’s Ben. You’ll get used to him eventually. I’m sure he’ll give you more pizza, and you’ll be friends. What do you say, Ben?”

“I...suppose, yes.” He wasn’t quite at ease with the animal but in order for the mission to succeed, he would have to be able to approach Rey.

She finished her pizza and ordered a second margarita, all the while licking the salt on the rim of the glass from her fingers. She raised her honey colored eyes to Ben.

“So l’ll summarize what I know about you: you play music, you drive a big pickup, and you have history with the lead guitarist. Who are you, Ben Solo? Is music your business or your pleasure?”

He diverted his gaze. He had no intention of stumbling this time. “I tour with the band for a month at a time but...the rest of the time I work at a multinational company in Silicon Valley.”

“Oh? You’re in tech?”

“No, it’s in the industrial sector. What about you?” He turned the tables on her ”I know that you’re British, that you’re single as of late, that you like music and hiking, and that you fear solitude. What do you do in life, Rey?”

She blushed. “My title is Office Experience Manager. I work in HR at a startup where I handle the well-being of the team. I make sure that they like what we do and are happy with where they are.”

That was definitely her calling. There was something luminous about her, she was like sunshine. He didn’t doubt for an instant that she brought happiness wherever she went. Ben himself was so taciturn—more like moonlight—and yet he found himself changing in her presence.

“Why do you think that I fear solitude?” She asked, dreading the response.

Ben’s hand reached out and gently swept a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She trembled slightly, making his palm brush against her cheek. She was warm to the touch. He didn’t move his hand, somehow frozen in the moment. Rey closed her eyes.

“You say you’re travelling alone, but you keep coming back to me, again and again,” he murmured breathlessly, “why?”

“You’re the first person I met here, when I was in the depths of hell. You helped me,  in your own way. Brash and intrusive...quintessentially American.”

Ben’s palm cupped her cheek. His hands were massive, he could have held her whole face in that palm.

“Rey.”

She blinked, coming back to her senses.

“Come.”

He rose, depositing a handful of cash on the table. She took the hand he offered her.

“What about BB8?” She asked softly.

“We’re not going very far. She can wait a few minutes.”

Rey let Ben pull her away—pull her in—far from the crowd. He lead her down the alley, a shelter away from prying eyes and public lighting. He grabbed her wrist, pinning her against the wall. Rey gulped. He was so close, and his gaze was so intense. He licked his lips, a tick that she had noticed on the first day they met. It gave away his apprehension. Or was it anticipation?

Slowly, she lifted her hands, and with a slight tremble, buried them in the dark waves of his hair. Obeying an irrepressible instinct, he took her face in both hands and crushed her mouth to his.

[paellaplease]

Firebird | Chap.1

pairing: Revali/Original Female Character genre/warnings: adventure, romance, slow-burn. graphic descriptions of pain. later depictions of self-injury. scarring. burning. swearing. canon-typical violence chapter word-count: 2,847

author note: Props to revali’s VA for bringing such an interesting and compelling character to life, especially with the limited screen-time etc. I knew I wanted to write about him the moment he rocked up and started talking.

Hope y’all enjoy the ride. 

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 1: Dagger and Arrow

If there was anything she was completely positive about, it was that death wasn’t painless and enchanting hurt even worse. 

*

She had felt death before.

It was a white, hot pain. Racing through her veins and making her muscles stiffen and squeeze as if she’d been struck by lightning instead of stabbed by a sword. Sometimes in her dreams it starts in the tips of her fingers, others it begins as a heavy weight on her chest. 

All times it hurts and it lingers. Swirling in her abdomen, making her feel sick as she briefly registers that her head was spinning, and the world felt very, very far away. Slowly, the edges of her vision would creep in. The commotion and screaming around her fading away till it was nothing but dull chatter.

Eventually, there would be silence and darkness. The pain ended just about then.

Yes, she’d felt death before. Or at least the worst parts of it. However now, standing in the middle of the Akkala Forge and staring at the lone dagger that sat on its pedestal in the centre of the black marble table…

She realised that on days like these, enchanting sometimes felt worse than dying.

The task was simple enough. The same she was given each month after weeks spent in study and preparation, training both her mind and body before her mentor deemed her ready to perform the procedure. 

Enchant the blade, make it work.

Gently, she exhaled a long, tired breath, glancing at the rune in disdain. There it was, marring the surface of her hand like it always did. An ancient pattern carved deep into her skin like a raised scar. The shape that looked almost like an eye at its middle seemed to stare back at her. What are you waiting for? It seemed to say. 

The rune had been there for as long as she could remember. It was the one thing she had left of her past, and also the main thing that reminded her of what her purpose was right now. 

Every attempt she’d made on enchanting a weapon had ended in failure, some more spectacularly terrible than the last. However today, on the eve of her twenty-fourth birthday, she was determined. She’d studied even harder this year, dedicating much of her free time to observing the smiths, and the rest to visualising the procedure. Today was the day she was to complete what was set out for her.

Gritting her teeth, she focused on the target and fanned her palm open.

The weather in the forge immediately shifted, transitioning from a stagnant cold, to a thick blanket of humidity. It was stifling, heavy in the same way the air would feel in the moments before a storm. 

The energy lying dormant in her veins ignited like a spark, low pitched and buzzing, singing loud and clear in her ears.

Bracing herself, a familiar burning sensation raced from her outstretched palm to the rest of her body, making her bite her lip as she focused on not calling out from how much it hurt.

The feeling worsened with every minute, the magical energy in her left hand pulsing to the beat of her racing heart. Carefully, she bent her ring finger inward, watching the rune illuminate in a blazing flash of blue light.

In an instant, jets of fire crawled up from the edges of the rune and into her five fingers, casting an eerie, orange glow on her pained face and making the air smell of charcoal. She pushed the fire further, the pain in turn worsening and making her head spin. 

Lines of fire raced out from her fingertips, wrapping themselves around the hilt of the dagger first and embedding themselves into the detail. The silver metal, now hot and red, began to melt and warp as the fire travelled up, searing a blazing trail into the metal of the knife.

Then came the worst part. Grimacing in anticipation, she grabbed the blade. 

The first time she had attempted the sealing stage, she had passed out in the workshop. It was the middle of winter then, five years ago. 

(She woke up the next day to the sterile chill of the village infirmary, sore as hell and smelling like a campfire.)

With time, she eventually learned to look past the spots that formed in her vision, fighting through the dull ache in her body and willing herself to stay awake. However, even with years of practice, her body wasn’t fully immune to the procedure’s effects.

She eventually discovered that at her level, her enchanting had a time limit:

Five minutes.

One. She closed her eyes and focused deeply on the blade, imagining the fire as she coaxed it to slither its way into the molecular structure of the dagger, willing it to wrap itself around the rapidly vibrating atoms like a snake in a birds nest. 

Two. With a shaking hand, she lifted the mallet she held in her other palm high into the sky, aligning it with the red star she had painted on the ceiling as a guide. Exhaling a gust of air, warm as oven smoke, she brought the mallet down, letting go of the blade in the same instant. 

Three. The black stone table she worked on shook lightly from the force. In contrast, the dagger she had just struck went immediately still. Steam began to lift from it, small flames licking its edges and casting the room in shadows. 

Four. She felt her focus waver, clutching her hand and falling to her knees-

Not yet! Not done yet! 

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead, seeming to evaporate before it hit the ground below. 

Five. She dropped the mallet, shakily rising to her feet and swiping the thick cream coloured cloth at the edge of the table, quickly wrapping the burning blade in the material and extinguishing the rising flames.

Release! She ordered it, and the fire and burning in her veins were no more.

For a while, she stood there panting, clutching her shoulder as residual phantom pains echoed in her left hand. 

Swallowing her nausea, her right hand lifted the dagger to the dusty light filtering from the forge’s window. She marvelled at how heavy it suddenly felt, the metal, whilst still hot, laying cold in her hands as if never kissed by flame in the first place. 

She had done it. Her first successful attempt amongst so many. 

“Congratulations, Maiya.”

Maiya jumped, quickly whipping around to face the person standing behind her, still clutching the dagger. 

It was a tall woman, almost seven feet in height. She was wrapped in a dark cloak with light blue intricate designs laced into its sleeves and hood. Her bright, silver locks stood out amongst the darkness, cropped short and slicked back, her wrinkled face clear of distractions just as she likes it.

Seeing who it was, Maiya’s face broke out in a large grin. “Teacher! How long were you standing there for? I did it! I finally did it!”

If she wasn’t paying attention, she wouldn’t have caught the brief, small smile that flashed across her mentor’s face before it was replaced by her ever customary frown.

“I was here for long enough. You did well, my dear.“ 

Her mentor took a step forward, reaching out for the dagger with a black gloved hand. She peeled back the cloth slowly, revealing the enchanted blade underneath.

It was red. Bright red. With orange light glowing and racing its way from the hilt to the sharpened tip, embedding itself into the dagger’s swirling detail and setting the dimly lit room alight. 

"It’s time you find a master for this dagger.”

Maiya opened her mouth, questions bubbling to the surface as her mentor continued. 

“Rito Village, in the upper north western corner of Hyrule, is where you will go.”

“But why-”

“The land is filled to the brim with monsters made of ice and snow. The people there will benefit greatly from a warrior skilled in handling an enchanted blade of fire, no?”

At that, Maiya’s mouth ran dry of complaints, her words evaporating in the heat of the workshop’s air. It was no use arguing with her mentor at this point. But a lingering thought still hovered in her mind like a dark cloud.

“The land is quite far, teacher,” she whispered, looking everywhere but the woman in front of her. She braced for a sharp reprimand for her obvious sign of childish weakness, and was surprised when none came.

“I understand, child. However, I believe it’s time that you venture beyond the borders of this town and see for yourself the riches and diversity of the world around you." 

Her piercing grey eyes seemed to cut into Maiya’s darker ones, distant and glassy. Seeing something she couldn’t.

"An evil is building, my dear. And we must be ready. You learn nothing if you allow fear to dictate your freedom.”

Maiya dropped her gaze to her hands. The rune, ugly and deep, cut through the tan skin on the surface of her left. It stood out, angry and red, contrasting greatly with the smooth, unmarked skin of her right. 

“What of my other element, Teacher? The one that I will carve into my right hand when I am ready?”

“It is ice, is it not?”

Maiya nodded.

“We will begin preparations once you return.” Her wrinkled face twitched into a smirk. “Perhaps the environment will give you some ideas.”

With that, her mentor put both hands on her student’s shoulders, steering her away from the stone bench and leading her to the exit.

“You will be fine, Maiya. Now prepare, I will arrange a space for you in the next merchant trip to the region. Pack warm, you leave in three days.”

———————

Thud. The arrow embedded itself into the center of the target. Thud, thud, thud! Three more, dead centre again, each piercing through the previous arrows with deadly accuracy. 

Thud! Another, still in the centre of the target but slightly askew by a millimeter.

Revali frowned, wiping his brow and nocking another arrow onto his bow. Not good enough.

The forest outskirts a few hours from Rito Village was not his usual training spot. The wind was still fair, and the targets numerous (with hundreds of trees to choose from), but it still didn’t pack the same challenge, the same dramatic drop, the same chilling and powerful air of his beloved Flight Range in the Hebra Mountains. 

However, today marked the culmination of months of training for several of their new aerial recruits, and said Flight Range was therefore currently swamped by excitable Rito’s raring to get a few targets in before the sun set on the horizon. 

And as much as he would love to provide them with a generous demonstration on the highest level one can reach as a skilled archer such as himself, he didn’t believe he had the patience to deal with any novices today.

So…the forests will have to do.

Thud! The arrow went, embedding itself again in the middle of the target and cutting through the three previous others with a bit more force than usual.

The blue-feathered Rito reached into his quiver, picking out and nocking three arrows in one fluid motion. The world around him sharpened, then blurred. Three painted trees for three arrows, his vision hyper fixating on the first, second, then the third.

One breath, another. Now. 

The first arrow sang through the forest, embedding itself into a target hanging from a tree to his left. The second, whizzed past a bit further, passing through the leaves and piercing the hidden bullseye that he had placed underneath the foliage.

The third arrow travelled the furthest. Revali aimed to hit one of the more difficult targets he had planted several meters away. The tree was an ancient oak with leaves mostly orange, swaying lightly in the chill autumn breeze. 

Revali’s gaze sharpened. The arrow dipped and flew, dancing with the movement of the wind, quickly approaching the woman with dark hair that had just stepped in the way.

Wait.

What?

“Watch out!”

It all unfolded instantly. The Rito, in shock, slinging his bow over his shoulder and sprinting towards her, stopping to shield his eyes from the flash of a bright blue light. The woman, in a bizarre twist of luck and fate, hearing his voice and turning at the last minute, the arrow missing her head by an inch and cutting a diagonal line through her long, braided hair.

Silence reigned through the forest for a second. Then:

“WHAT THE FU-”

“YOU NEARLY KILL-”

The Rito stepped forward, pointing an accusing wing at the stranger. “Don’t you dare voice a stupid accusation such as that, I had no intentions of harming you.” He narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling suspicious. It was rare to see Hylians frequenting this side of the woods, especially with the recent increase of monster activity and abundance of natural predators hiding in the thickets. 

Furthermore, although he doubted her involvement with the troublesome Yiga Clan, whose members have often been known to terrorize the odd lone traveler, he didn’t want to take any chances. “What are you doing wandering the middle of the Tabantha wild? The next Hylian-managed town is more than an hour away.”

He was surprised at the fury in her tone as she tilted her head up to snarl at him. “First of all, birdie, this forest is open to the public. No one owns these trees.” He opened his mouth to bite out a seething retort, but she stepped forward, pushing a finger underneath his beak to snap it shut. He spluttered. 

“Second of all, I’m taking a shortcut. I’ve been travelling west for three bloody weeks and it has been absolute hell. I’m sleep deprived, hungry, and tired. And I’m in a hurry! So unless you know anything about a place called ree-too Village, I’ll be on my way." 

Revali glared. At least that clears a few things up. Were all Hylians this demanding and foolish, or was it just the ones Valoo above was adamant in acquainting him with?

He pushed away the offending finger and rolled his eyes.

"Firstly it’s pronounced ree-toe. Secondly,” he said, mocking her manner of speech, “No. I don’t know anything about the village of which I was hatched and spent most of my life and waking hours. Whatever led you to such a ridiculous notion?”

He raised an eyebrow, watching- bemused, as a dust of pink crept its way onto the haggard woman’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. If only he wasn’t so pissed.

He took her silence as his cue to continue. 

“I wasn’t hatched yesterday. You’re obviously lost. However, to avoid you waltzing into another unsuspecting warrior’s weapon range, I suggest that you continue eastwards that way." 

His bow gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he used it to point towards a structure which towered and peaked over the top of the trees. "See that stone pillar over there? That’s Valoo’s Spire, follow it and you will eventually reach the shore of Lake Totori. You will meet the Great Hylian Highway once again, and if you manage to follow it this time, the bridge to the village will be made apparent to you.”

He smirked, crossing his wings and tilting his head. Amusingly, she was about a head shorter than him, and she had to lift her dark eyes to the sky to glare at him. “Got all that? Because if not, good luck as I am not the type to repeat myself to idiots who ignore my knowledgeable advice.”

“Alright thanks, whatever,” she sighed, grabbing an elastic from her pocket and pulling her now asymmetrical hair into a haphazard ponytail. She turned “Try not to kill anyone with that bow, Fly Boy,” she called over her shoulder. 

A few strands of uneven, dark hair came free as she walked away. He couldn’t help it. “A very creative haircut, Strange Hylian!”

“Oh shut up!” A shrill yell replied, echoing from the other end of the forest and scaring several birds from their perches. 

He squawked out a sharp laugh at that.

A few seconds passed and she was finally out of his line of vision. Revali of the Rito was happily alone once again. 

“What an unusual and infuriating woman,” he muttered. He had been distracted and decided that now was a good time as any to take a few minutes to collect his discarded arrows and reset his targets.

Revali trudged towards the oak tree where the troublesome arrow was embedded, feeling slightly amused at the trail of shorn dark hair a few steps away.

He reached out towards the arrow, eyes widening in surprise as he stepped closer.

The once brown wood of the arrow shaft was an ashy, crumbling black. The bird feathers of its fletching emitted an unpleasant sulphurous odour, and the metal of its arrowhead was warped and melted like silver molten clay.

It was completely burnt. 

A strong wind blew through the trees, rustling through his feathers as he took a careful step back.

How odd.

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy → Levi Ackerman Chapter 2 → Aella

Read the rest of the chapters here!

This chapter is a filler chapter; it's going to be boring but is absolutely necessary for the story. Though, it's a bit on the short side with around 1,600 words.

Aell·a

noun

1. the Latin variant of the Greek name Aello and means 'storm wind or whirlwind'.

Fun fact:  In Greek mythology, Aela was the name of the Amazon warrior whom Herakles killed. She was renowned for carrying a double axe.

2. Aella is your nickname and what people will call you until you reveal your real name

        It was loud — too loud. Aella kept her head to the ground at all times, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. There was so much gossip and it was only the first day of Senior year. Most students spent the entire weekend partying, getting high and drunk, but not Aella, at least not anymore — she was too broke and couldn't even afford new clothes. It's not like she needed them anyway, hers were just baggy with tons of holes in them. Karanese High was overcrowded, to say the least; several other districts in Maria like Shiganshina and Karanes went here too. Aella pulled her hood over her head more and walked in, the first thing she heard was about some new upperclassmen joining who was apparently from Sina, though the staff claimed he's been here since Freshman year. Well, according to every girl who's seen him say otherwise. Aella rolled her eyes and went to her first-period class — art. Well, to be more specific, advanced art. Aella focused on her studies more than anything nowadays rather than being the party animal she was barely two years ago and eventually managed to score every advanced class possible in the art, history, and English field. Aella walked into the classroom, nodded her head towards the teacher, and sat down in her own space. Not that she was shy or anything, though she did have anxiety, Aella just wasn't interested in talking to people. The first day of classes was shaping up to be a boring one and it was only the first hour. Though, by third period Aella finally laid eyes on the new guy, or what she assumed to be him since every single girl that wasn't gay was non-discreetly staring at him. Her eyes widened; not that he wasn't attractive, by all means, he was, but the look in his eye is what caught Aella off-guard. It was the look of someone who's been through too much shone right in his eyes no matter how much he schooled his face into a blank stare and it scared the shit out of Aella; she saw herself looking back at her when the new guy made eye contact with her. He had a past probably as horrifying as her own — and she was determined to figure him out. By the end of fitness, Aella overheard his name; Levi. Though even with her new mission at hand, Aella couldn't give a single shit when she saw him in the library period 4 and 5 for study hall; she had to budget this month's pay to see how much she can afford for food after utility, water, and electrical expenses are taken care of. Aella put in a special request at the end of last school year for her to have study hall every quarter so she could not only do homework, but budget as well as this was the only 'free time' she really had.

        Levi was fucking bored, to say the least. It was only fifth period and he was already done pretending to be a high schooler; girls practically drooled in his presence and begged him to go to the next party over the weekend. He was a damn mafia boss for christ's sake! Isabel might've been clever, but Levi was fucking over it. Levi looked behind his back for the umpteenth time; he was still paranoid as not even two days ago was the heist that sent him into hiding in the first place. Though, there was one thing that intrigued Levi while he resided at this hellhole; the fact that there were fighting pools after school where you could make money from if you won enough fights. Perhaps instead of getting eyes and ears everywhere, Levi should just recruit those that win these fights to the point where No Sympathy had enough members to be considered an entire political system of its own. Levi scanned the entire library once more and mapped out escape route upon escape route — if Levi was to be caught in this damn building, he'd sure as hell escape into the open. Nevertheless, the period is almost over and then Levi has to choke down horrid food; he might as well as just skip lunch! Levi looked over to see a girl looking absolutely distraught about something. She couldn't have homework already, could she?

        The day carried on as normal, or well as normal as it gets for Aella. She bolted out of school the moment she was dismissed; she had to get home to eat literally anything before work in less than an hour. Aella had no idea how she was going to handle the problem of homework on top of paying bills and budgeting, but if there's a will there's a way, right?

        "Damn it, this is the last of my food. I suppose I already have to take some out of the food funds, huh?" Aella grumbled, grabbing a $50 from the tiny letter envelope taped to the side of her fridge. She was going to cry about money later, right now she had to go to work or else she wouldn't collect the desperately needed money from her employer in two Fridays. Grabbing her hoodie and satchel from the couch, Aella went outside and locked her apartment door before leaving. Working for a writing company had its perks, but considering that it was family owned meant that pay was a little bit better than what a normal company job would be at the same caliber... Except Aella had no healthcare or insurance for that matter. She was too poor to even try and get any, nevertheless, fulfill the payments, so whenever she got sick she'd just have to hope she got over it, though that was never really the case sometimes. The previous hospital bill she owed forced her to cut down her food budget to a measly $30. Yeah, she lived off of ramen for a while.

             Levi was back in the slums — well, Maria's slums he supposed. Though, these slums actually had nice-looking apartments and were still apart of the richest district in Maria, but that didn't say much as Maria was as poor as you could get — aside from the slums Levi was from, that is. Tiny grocers littered the streets every twenty complexes or so, which was beneficial to Levi who only ate at the high school today. Levi knew he wasn't supposed to be out like this, but the man had to eat something — anything, really. Walking from his apartment Farlan found for him, Levi pulled his hoodie up over his head and slid his bandana over his mouth; yes, it looked shady as hell, but he'd have the decency to slide the bandana back down when he entered the store. Levi looked left and right, only sticking to the back alleys and shadows of the night while he walked over to the store, well, gas station. Parallel from Levi was another crosswalk, though this one actually had lamp posts that lit up the way for both pedestrians and drivers alike, unlike Levi's side; it was pitch black, only receiving light from those that have yet to slide their shades down in their apartments. The night was muggy; the air moist and sticky with humidity, and when accompanied with crickets, basic city sounds, and blistering heat at 7 at night, it was practically Levi's doom — he felt absolutely disgusting and he had just showered earlier that morning. When Levi finally approached the gas station, he felt like he was being watched — making him clutch one his several blades tightly; he was ready to throw the knife at anyone that made any sound he deemed odd. Though, when Levi stopped feet away from the sliding doors the feeling disappeared — they were trying to get him to let his guard down; whoever they were. Levi begrudgingly moved his feet and walked in the store, grabbing as much food he could deem edible that'd last him close to three days if he really stretched it out. But when Levi left, hands in pocket, earth-destroying bag hanging from his pocketed arm, Levi knew he was being followed; and make no mistake they were not friendly whatsoever. Levi continued walking like normal, but it was far from normal. It felt like walking on eggshells — one wrong move and he's exposed. Levi took the liberty to slide his bandana up while in the gas station, but it wasn't enough for him; Levi was going to have to run if he was to lose them by the time he managed to reach his shitty temporary apartment. Levi sucked in a breath and mentally groaned; he did not feel like beating the living shit out of someone today; Levi counted to three and broke into a sprint that easily dusted whoever was following him in mere seconds. When Levi looked back the next time, he caught eye of seven gang members from his rival gang.

[blankdblank]

Ghosts - Mal Prologue

For as long as I can remember this house has always been my home. But what price has that home come with, the weight of ghosts I never wished to linger with. True as an orphan you can rarely have a say in where you are sent but why in hell was I sent here of all places. Great aunt Jaqi…how in hell could she be my great aunt? A few memories still popped up now and again from when I was younger, her laugh, smile and the games of hide and seek we would play. Finally I am eighteen and somehow in all those years not  wrinkle or grey hair in sight appeared on this supposed great aunt of mine. Out in the middle of nowhere this massive home sits in a vast patch of green surrounded by dessert, a supposed oasis many drifters should assume to find as a pleasant sight after their wandering yet none stop here. Even they can tell at a distance to stay away, such an idyllic place surely can’t be safe in such a harsh climate.

Room by room I pace through the end of her early morning rounds as mountain ranger leaving me alone in this empty abode. No matter where I go I can feel it, eyes on me, shadows dart away, distant scurrying and the random shifting items that once seemed so magical as a child adding to her mystique now only compounds my urge to flee. A few years now I’ve been saving up and I have just barely enough to get away. There really isn’t a set location yet, just anywhere but here. Outside an engine dies and a deep sigh escapes from my lips, tentatively, in a glance at the mirror along the wall to avoid looking into the room on my right at the sound of claws tapping along the ground at my approach, my hands rose to shift the dark crimson curls away from my face freeing the sight of my emerald eyes. In a dart out my tongue wet my lips as I wound my hair back up into a sloppy bun secured with the hair tie on my wrist distracting me just long enough for the creature to hide in the cabinet behind the door.

Turning away from the mirror the shifting of my reflection into the face of a small wrinkled face as the glass door hidden there eased open freeing a ladder for another younger version of her to scurry up into the hiding place happened with my back to it on my path to the kitchen. The sounds of the truck door closing and the shouldering of a rifle and boot steps through the dirt path to the back door followed by the shifting of the wood steps in an eager trot from the steps to the door leading into the kitchen. In the doorway again my eyes fell on her and I leaned against the frame feeling the shifting of my t shirt and jeans in crossing my arms. Simple worn jeans with a tan button down shirt tucked into them was secured by a worn belt bearing a silver badge and a handgun holster on the raven haired purple eyed supposed great aunt who looks more like my sister than someone supposedly well past her sixties by her father’s guess when I was a child.

Sighing as she fanned her collar underneath her long ponytail flowing across her back Jaqi smiled at me after leaving her rifle on the rack along the wall. “Humid out today.”

I nodded and asked, “Any sign of the crew to fix the train station?”

She shook her head, “No, that flood took out the eastern path and they’re still clearing it. Few weeks still possibly, something about angry badgers.” At my sigh she chuckled and turned to grab a bottle of juice from the fridge she sat at the table to enjoy, “Don’t be so eager to be off on your own.” The cap broke free at her turn and she tipped the bottle back against her lips for a sip.

After a scoff I mumbled turning back to my room, “What would you care.”

Behind me I paused as she called out, “Is it that absurd of an idea that I care about your happiness?”

Back in the doorway my hand planted on the frame stating as my free hand waved at my side emphasizing my words, “You’ve lived here your whole life, what would you know about anywhere else?”

A scoff and a giggle came from her as she capped the bottle again, “Just who told you that?” At my brow rising she continued, “I have no idea where you got that idea, I’ve been all over the globe, in fact you used to love my stories of my adventures. I don’t know how hard you hit your head in that tree climbing fumble of yours, since then you don’t seem to know me at all Em.” In her path pat me when she rose to her feet easing the chair back in place and walked through to her study passing me with a kiss on my cheek.  

To her back I cry out, “My name is Mal!” Again she nods raising the bottle confirming she heard me as she enters her study, in a stomping path I charge back up to my room calling out as I did, “What my mother was thinking naming me Emery I have no clue!” Hard as I could I slammed my door and rushed to the bed whispering out as my fingers eased over the locket holding my father’s picture remembering his nickname for me, “Mallory.” Through a tear rolling down my cheek clutching the locket in my fist I rolled over and reached for my journal to once again start spilling yet another idea for my life in the world only to end up sketching the same set of brothers onto the bare page yet again. No matter what these men were on my mind, in my dreams, the weight of this house only lessened with thoughts of them.

Oh the dreams I had of them, from the simplest of glances at a distant to the most heated of situations leaving you tangled between the amorous pair seeing to your every desire. But no matter where you looked in this town of two hundred and fifty they could not be found, and jaqi wasn’t any help either telling you to hang a bell in a tree to call them to you. Her and her superstitions clearly didn’t find her a husband of her own. Honestly you weren’t even related, she merely fostered one of your relatives when thy were little, who is now long since dead, only compounding the worrying topic of her appearance. A cult or coven seemed to be the main assumption in town but as she watched the mountain passes all on her own and rarely came to town or bothered others at all she and her mysteries were tolerated.

Through to dinner she laid there aimlessly daydreaming about the pair she hoped to find out in the great unknown. “Dinner.” Another sigh later up and down to the kitchen I went again to claim my seat and halfway listen to the latest story of her rounds through the night. Halfway down the stairs a flash of lightning broke through another tangling daydream bringing the storm that had suddenly rolled in to my attention then soon disappeared at the metal shutters sealing over the windows upstairs through candles being lit at the table before they closed over the downstairs windows as well. Silently I slipped back into my thoughts until a knock sounded on the front door between bickering voices on the other side of it.

…

“This won’t do…” In a circle Radagast turned in his hut after yet another unsuccessful search for his Cousin and Sauruman to aid in bringing about the order Yavanna had sent to him in a dream. “Were are you Gandalf? I cannot do this alone…” In another pacing circle he passed by his bookshelf only to pause at his hedgehog squeaking atop an old worn book. A grin eased onto his face, “Of course! I’ll call out for another Wizard! Surely one will answer the call!”

The book was eased open after shouldering the hedgehog, resting in his palms the book flipped to the right page and he read through the instructions, “Right, right, one garlic clove, a pebble and an unbound soul.” He snapped the book shut and left it on the table and exited his hut, “Easy enough.”

Atop his sleigh he scanned the distance until he spotted a pair of brothers, both packed in their youthful travel to test themselves by Dwarvish tradition they ventured from the Iron Hills hoping to make it to Rohan, not far from it at the edges of Fangorn. A short conversation the naïve pair, both conveniently linked to the same One they had yet to find, agreed to joining him on his mission. Carefully they settled into his sled and he raced off into the swelling storm growing in front of them only tightening their grips on one another’s arms. Completely soaked to the bone the pair stared up confused at the lone house in the vast nothingness after passing through a swirling jumble of colorful clouds.

On his feet Kili mumbled, “I think we’re lost.”

Radagast chuckled and moved across the lawn with a chuckle, “Not at all.” His voice lowered to a mumble, “Please help me…”

Fili nudged Kili, whispering, “Let’s just see who lives here.” He chuckled, “Why are you so cautious? This isn’t like you.”

Kili nudged him back, “You’re just hoping they’ll feed us.”

Fili chuckled, “You know me too well.”

Confidently he knocked on the door as the brothers climbed onto the porch and stopped behind him peering at the door. Through the opened door instantly the young trio locked their eyes on one another and Mal led the boys inside to guide them inside to change out of their wet clothes while Jaqi eyed Radagast in his reluctance to enter just yet.

Wetting his lips he said, “Miss,”

“Jaqi.”

He nodded, “Miss Jaqi, I am Radagast the Brown. Now I have traveled quite a distance to find you. I have a favor to ask.” With a nod she stepped back and he joined her through to the dining room where he set out a map, “Now, my Cousin Gandalf was sent this task and now he has gone missing and the head of our order has as well. This job must be carried out and I cannot abandon my post for long so I am in need of reinforcements.”

Behind him Mal, who had reluctantly left the boys to change alone asked in the doorway, “What sort of reinforcements could you need in a get up like that?”

Jaqi, “Em!”

Mal’s brows furrowed and she barked back, “Mal!”

Radagast held his gaze on Jaqi he continued, “Now, Smaug has been resting for sixty years and now there are those wishing to march in hopes of finding him dead. What I require is someone to convince the Sons of Durin to return home once again.”

Mal’s brow rose and she crossed her arms leaning on the door frame, “And why would you come here?”

Radagast, “Because a Wizard must complete this task. That mountain must not fall into darkened hands.”

Another scoff came from Mal, “Somebody clearly has been hitting the sauce, look, no Wizards here old man.”

Jaqi, “Mal! Go upstairs if you’re going to behave like that!”

Mal’s arm flailed out as she replied, “He clearly-..”

Jaqi, “Knows more than you understand.” Mal’s brows furrowed only to drop at the guys peering over her shoulder through the doorway at the map on the table.

Fili grinned moving closer, “Erebor!” Kili moved behind him as Mal muttered, “Not you too. Why do they have to be crazy?”

Kili, “Uncle never lets us see his map but we snuck a glance once couple decades back.”

Mal rolled her eyes crossing her arms as Fili asked, “What’s this about Sons of Durin?”

Radagast, “Miss Jaqi here, if she would consent to aiding me would guide a Son of Durin to reclaim Erebor.”

Mal looked to Jaqi, “You’re not really considering this?!”

Jaqi raised a brow, “And if I am?”

Mal, “You can’t be serious, he’s clearly out of his mind! Wandering out in that storm from who knows where on a sled pulled by some very odd looking rabbits!”

Radagast, “Rastabell Rabbits, fastest of their kind.”

Mal waved her hand at him, “I rest my case.”

Jaqi caught Radagast’s eyes saying, “That’s all you need?”

He nodded and replied, “If you would be so kind, though I am afraid we will have to leave by midnight before the portal closes.”

She nodded and Mal said, “I think it’s time you left. Wizards and portals…”

Jaqi locked her eyes on Mal, “This is my home Mal, you don’t have to go it doesn’t sound like it should take long.”

Radagast, “Oh, my apologies, I forgot to mention, the portal, I can only open it for you once.”

Jaqi nodded and lowered her gaze as Mal dropped her arms, “Oh really, now we’re supposed to just race off to the unknown to follow a treasure map?! Honestly Jaqi!”

Jaqi, “I know you don’t understand. There s a lot I haven’t told you..”

Mal shouted, “I don’t care! But fine, this is your home! You just let whoever you want through the door no matter how crazy they are! You want to go off chasing treasure maps then go right ahead! I won’t be sticking around very long anyways! Just till that train comes back into town and then I’m gone!”

Kili turned with a worried expression, “You’re not coming with us?”

Mal scoffed, “I am not going anywhere with him!”

The brothers held a silent conference then nodded in agreement, saying together, “We’re staying with you then.”

Unwilling to send them away before she could find out why she had been dreaming of them for so long. Her eyes shifted back to Jaqi saying, “Go then. You won’t find me here when you come crawling back from whatever foolish trap he leaves you in.”

Jaqi, “Why are you acting like this? Like you won’t care at all when I’m gone.”

Mal, “What would I have to care about? A few scattered memories from when I was little? What could possibly make me want to stay with you in this haunted house? For years I’ve been saving up to get away and soon enough I’ll have my chance.”

Jaqi nodded, “That easy?”

Mal, “Oh like you’ll care at all. You don’t know anything about me at all. We’re practically strangers! Just go already! Just go!”

Jaqi drew in a breath and walked around the table easing her hand along the back of her belt wrapping two fingers around the nub at the end of a hidden wand she eased out of an inconspicuous holster, “You want to be alone, fine. See how you like it.”

A flick of her arm brought the wand into Mal’s vision making her brows furrow. “What the-?”

Steadily in her mind Jaqi uttered the charm she had used for centuries to keep muggles away from her home, “Obliviate.” Instantly she could feel a deep stab in her chest at the memories of her in Mal’s life fading away while the house pulsed around her shifting and contorting as her belongings and the house elves inside were now housed in a miniature version of her house she tucked inside her pack, leaving just Mal’s belongings as she eased her jacket on an arm at a time asking the boys, “You’re certain you wish to stay here?”

After another conference they both nodded replying, “Yes.”

She nodded again shouldering her pack as well as her rifle and drew her handgun out from its draw to add to the holster on her hip then locked eyes with Radagast saying, “We should get going then.” Waving her wand for another table setting that was filled with food and juice as the trio aimlessly took their seats after you wiped the conversation from their minds, leaving just the memory of them knocking on the door in the middle of a storm.

On the other side of the locked front door Jaqi followed Radagast to his sled after having missed his leaving a pebble on the coffee table for the trio seeing the pain in Jaqi’s eyes when she holstered her wand again. “I like your rabbits.”

With a chuckle he eyed their body language in sniffing her and said, “They like you as well.” She forced a smile and took one last glance at the now unprotected house and settled on the sled as Radagast gave the signal triggering their race away back through the portal in the storm. All through the meal stolen glances and hinted flirtations lasted through to clearing the table and guiding the pair to the spare room where Mal stated, “It’s not much. I don’t get many guests, so, there’s only one bed…”

The brothers shrugged and Kili said, “No worries. We’ve shared worse.”

With a wink Fili said, “See you at breakfast, then we’ll gladly help with any work around here.”

Kili nodded grinning as well saying his own goodnight as Mal moved to her bedroom down the hall with a giggle under her breath eager to see what the next day would hold.

[moveslikebuckywrites]

Beautiful Distraction

Summary:  The heat and humidity in Lemoyne is frustrating.  So is laundry.  So are emotions.  The burgeoning feelings you have for the widow from Colter are making chores difficult.

Ship:  Sadie Adler x F!Reader

Word Count:  1.5k

Rating: G, nothing super crazy here just a short fluff piece that popped in my head today.

Notes:  My first attempt at a wlw fic and my first attempt at a Red Dead Redemption fic, hope y’all like it!

Also on AO3 here

If there was one thing in this world you hated, it was the humidity of the swamp.  If there was one thing you hated more than that, it was laundry.  It was your turn on washing duty, the least favorite of the long list of chores that were not your favorite.  The washboard scratched up your fingers and staying on your knees made your back hurt.  But fair was fair, and it was your turn in rotation.

You’d been with the gang a few months, it wasn’t your first choice.  Troubles you’d rather not revisit meant this was the safest place for you.  Safety in numbers and all that.  

If you’d had it your way, you’d be doing some of the harder work.  Feeding the horses or chopping the firewood.  You had tended to fields, fed the pigs, gotten dirty for most of your life. If there’s one thing ol’ Grimshaw hated it was dirty.

Then Sadie had shown up, back in Colter, all sadness and heartbreak.  You’d felt for her then, tried to be a friend along with the other girls.  Figured she’d be gone when you got to Valentine, but she stuck around.  Y’all got on like a house on fire; two farm girls in a world of gangsters.  For her, it was revenge.  For you, it was survival.  Tough world out there for a girl with no one to provide.  

You understood the need for the gang to lay low, but of all places, why Lemoyne?  You thought you’d left this place far behind, after what the raiders had done to your parents’ farm.  But here you were again.  In the swamp and the stickiness, the humidity making your heavy skirt cling to you as you did the washing.  Sweat rolling down your neck but finding no breeze for relief; only adding to the general discomfort of the current times.

This morning Sadie had threatened to murder Pearson over the crap chores she had to do.  Arthur had taken her into town with him so she could have some space and, frankly, that made the day kind of boring.  You spent most of your time together, doing the chores the other ladies didn’t want to. It was easier to pass the time with a kindred spirit.  Something about Sadie just made you happier, when she wasn’t in camp you’d find yourself back on edge again.

You related to her in ways you couldn’t relate to anyone else in camp.  Y’all understoodeach other.  Understood what it was like to lose people, what it was like to work for a living.  You liked her.  Maybe a little toomuch.

For years you’d been aware of your inclinations towards women over men.  At first, you’d thought it was from a place of jealousy.  This girl’s hair was so pretty and looked so soft; or this girl had the prettiest green eyes you’d ever seen and yours were no match for their depth. One woman’s breasts were nicer, or maybe her voice was softer.  They were always compared to yourself, without you realizing you weren’t actually jealous at all.  Attempts to date men were lackluster at best.  You just couldn’t see what the big draw was.  Men were coarse and mean, you could count the number of decent ones you’d met on one hand.

Things changed during your twenties.  Some drunks in a saloon had offered you and a friend 30 bucks to make out.  Flat broke and desperate for food, you did.  That’s when you realized that lust and attraction were supposed to have sparks, that those things you’d called jealousy were admiration.  You wanted to be the one running your fingers through that pretty and soft hair or staring into those deep green eyes of an old friend or hearing a soft gentle voice whispering in your ear.

Sadie was just something else.  The honey blonde hair, the quick and easy laugh, that low country drawl hardened by years of hard work.  You’d never met a woman like her, and you were pretty sure you never would again. But these things were still frowned upon, and with her being a widow you were sure she could never feel the same. These had been the thoughts swirling amid your frustrations.  The culmination of the heat, the sweat, this place, Grimshaw’s griping, and your unrequited feelings had brewed up the perfect storm.

When you saw Sadie come sauntering back into camp, you felt an even deeper pang of frustration.  And saunter was the word for it, she’d gotten some new duds in Rhodes and you couldn’t help but stare.  She had her pistol belts swung down low on her hips, her cloud of blonde hair pulled back messily with her wide hat brim covering her eyes.  She looked like a hero from the Saint Denis picture shows and you completely lost focus on the washing.  You sat there staring, not moving, not daring to.

Now you were certain you’d never meet anyone like her again. The pure audacity she had to have to do that, in this camp full of outlaws.  To step up and say Nah, screw you guys and your ‘woman’s work’, I’m gonna be one of you or damn you all to hell; without actually saying a word at all.  And now she was walking towards you, and you couldn’t even speak. It was like being caught in the crosshairs.

She flicked the brim of her hat up and turned one corner of her mouth into a mischievous grin as she approached you, “Whatcha think, Y/N?  Pretty spiffy huh?”  She spun around posing, waiting for your opinion.

“You…you look amazing, Sadie,” you stammered out.  She was beautiful; absolutely stunning in fully being herself for the first time since you met her in Colter.

“As long as I look like someone oughta take me seriously,” she laughed as she sat on the ground next to you, propping herself up with her arms behind her back.  Her shoulder was uncomfortably close to yours, making any concentration impossible. “I swear, Y/N, these fellas don’t know nothin’.  Think if you’re a woman all you’re good for is cookin’ and cleanin’.  Grimshaw don’t help none.”

“Everybody’s gotta do their part, I guess,” you say, unable to look away from Sadie’s face.  The setting sun was illuminating the loose hair falling from her messy ponytail, giving her an almost angelic glow.  She was so fierce, like a wildfire.  In quiet moments like these, the bravado faded.  You could see her. The softness in her eyes, holding back the hurt she still felt at the loss of her husband.  The small smile in the corners of her lips, hinting at happy memories being recalled.  The faint flush on her cheeks, highlighting the smattering of freckles from her time outside in the sun.  She could tell you so much without saying a word, without even knowing she was telling you at all.

Her eyes always drew you in, bright and hazel, warm like the sun.  They practically glittered when she was happy, and you loved seeing that.  Like you were seeing it just then.

“You alive in there, Y/N?  You’re awfully quiet, and you been starin’ at me for a while.”

Shit.  Busted. You were so caught up you hadn’t noticed she’d been looking right back at you.  It was strange for you to be at a loss for words, and yet here you were.

“Sorry, Sadie, I guess I was just caught up,” you smile at her apologetically, she just laughs.

“So, tell me honestly, cuz your opinion is the one I care about most here,” she says as she leans in closer to whisper, “Do I actually look cool, or do I look like I’m tryin’ too hard?”

“You’re beautiful, Sadie,” you say almost breathlessly before you can stop yourself.  She’s only inches from your face, your mind is in a haze unable to think clearly.

“Ya really think so, Y/N?” she says softly, leaning in even closer.

“Y-Yes…” you stammer, “I’ve always thought so.”  You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks. This is a new situation, a completely different Sadie than the one that left camp this morning.

“Glad to hear it,” she said as she stared deep into your eyes.  You felt vulnerable, almost naked.  Like she could read your innermost thoughts.

Before you could register what was happening, you felt her hand on your chin as she captured your lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. You were frozen, too shocked to react. You still couldn’t quite believe it had happened as she pulled away, smirking.

“I’ll see ya around, Y/N,” she said as she stood to leave. She tipped her hat and walked away towards the tent she shared with Karen, spurs jingling with each step. All you could do was stare.

“I don’t mean to pry,” a voice from behind you said. You turned to see Charles working on a wood carving near the fire; you hadn’t known anyone else was nearby.  “If I were you,” he said, “I would go after her.”

That snapped you out of it.  Washing abandoned, you set off in search of Sadie.

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 7 - Shadow

Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot  Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

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Chapter Text 

It was a record. The third consecutive day temperatures had reached over 45 degrees Celsius. A searing, bone-dry fierceness that parched Rey’s mouth and dried her eyes.

It was the worst time to be homeless, without a water supply or reliable shade.

Rey skulked through the alleyways of Jakku in worn earth-toned rags. The inhabitants watched her, eyeing the swag she clutched at her side. 

The streets of Niima were the most run down in Jakku, attracting transients and tramps, the abandoned and abhorred. It was her hunting ground now, but there were still treasures to find if you knew where to look. And dangers too, if you didn’t.

She’d left this place ten years ago, but it hadn’t changed. The barren streets, run-down cars, walls of graffiti and pawn shops had shifted over time, but they still felt the same. A mirage of heat waves danced above the cracked and spongy roads, and the dilapidated state of the sewers left a rotting odour rising through the ground grates.

It was the last place most people would want to be, but to Rey, it was home.

She was just 16 then, gangly armed, skinny and flat-chested. A bag of bones, rubbery sinew and wiry muscles. Easy pickings.

But Rey knew these streets like the back of her hand, easily navigating through laneways and leaping across rooftops. The roads were quiet in this part of the region, but she was never alone. There was the feeling she was being watched from the shadows, sized up for the bounty of an attack. She had nothing of value: a spare change of clothes, a comb, some tissues, a toothbrush, a screwdriver and a Swiss Army knife.

Her only saving grace was that she was too poor to rob. More trouble than she was worth. So she was bold and reckless, casing up abandoned shacks that might still have food, and learning to squat in forgotten rooms and apartments.

Stepping around the broken bottles and flattened piles of cardboard box beds, she rounded the corner to a block of flats. Ex-state housing apartments that had fallen into disrepair. It was a favourite among squatters and drug dealers. A dangerous junkyard to those who didn’t know better.

She stood silently, gazing up at the boarded and smashed windows. It looked smaller than she remembered and dirtier. The fire escapes had become loose and corroded in parts, but it was still functional.

This was the reason she was here. She drew a deep breath and took a running leap, reaching out to grab the half-collapsed fire escape. It groaned and shuddered as she made contact, threatening to collapse. But it was holding her weight, and that was all she needed.

Rey climbed like a lizard, passing sections where the steps had rusted through. Three floors up, she found what she was looking for.

Someone had already broken the window, and it was large enough for her to shimmy inside. She kicked the remaining shards of glass aside with her boot, enjoying the sound of them smashing on the ground below.

The stairway had come away from the building here, leaving a good metre distance between herself and the window, with a sheer drop to the concrete below.

Hopefully, she would just have to make this jump once.

Clutching the scalding metal of the fire escape, she took a big breath and threw herself off the ledge.  

Oof. Her chest and abdomen crashed against the exterior wall as she grasped hold of the window frame, pulling her body over the serrated edges of glass and onto the kitchen bench beneath the window.

There was a stench of rotting food and mould. Cigarettes and empty bongs lined the kitchen sink, and a thick layer of dust and white powder littered the bench

“Gross,” she muttered, as a swarm of cockroaches scattered into the open cupboards and beneath the fridge when she landed on the lino floor.  

Home.

Her    home.

Or at least it had been before they had sent her away.

***

“It’ll be for the best, Kira,” her mother had told her, tucking her hair into three tidy buns.

“Don’t cry, scout,” her dad added. “It’s just until we get back on our feet. Then you won’t be so much of a—-”

Burden. They didn’t need to say it; she had heard them talking about it last night in their bedroom.

She broke down, and then yelled, and then kicked off a juvenile riot of one, throwing papers and placemats at them until, at last, she planted her five-year-old feet on the floor and refused to move until the worker from Children's Services dragged her out to the van.

Once she was tightly buckled into her seat in the van, she risked one last look back to the place that had been her only home for five years. To wave, to blow them kisses, and big forgiveness for her outburst.

But her parents weren’t there. They didn’t even watch her leave.

That was 11 years ago and they never asked her to come back. When she arrived in Jakku, 16 and homeless again, a fellow scavenger had told her the couple died months ago. It hadn’t been the biggest surprise; they were wasting away before her eyes, even as a young child. She wouldn’t be a burden to them any more, she could provide for herself and for them, budget, repair things abandoned and broken.

They never gave her the chance. Her eyes stung at the thought. As always, she was alone.

“Oh well. That’s nothing new,” she told herself, as she kicked away the shattered glass on grey slate tiles. She would at least make the best of it here. That dodgy fire escape had deterred other squatters. The water still worked, albeit tinged brown. And there was that acrid stink of chemicals that she hoped to air out, but sometimes that smell never left.

The only issue was the bed. Someone had gone to town on it, possibly with a machete. The pillow top was shredded, the spring coils bent out of shape and broken in a sea of discoloured stuffing. She sure as hell wasn’t sleeping on the floor with the roach faeces everywhere. Two blocks away, she had spotted a double-sized dog bed on the side of the road; she could use that.

The paint was cracked, it had a serious cockroach infestation, and she was pretty sure someone had defecated in the loungeroom.

But it would do. It would do nicely.

________________________________________________________________

That was how the dream started, memories of the past, smells, feelings, emotions. Taking her back to that place she had tried so desperately to make home.

But then, the tide always shifted, like darkness preceding a storm. The natural light of her parent’s abandoned apartment bled into night and the nightmare began.

Not again!    her conscious mind rallied, but she was powerless to stop the images unfurling.

She had come back from a day of trading and haggling, body bathed in sweat from the heat and humidity. Too exhausted to take her usual precautions of listening through the walls, or checking the light shadows beneath the door.

Rey shoved the door open, grasping the handle and throwing her shoulder against it to loosen the swollen timber. She stumbled in behind it clumsily. The apartment was pitch black and silent, just how she left it. Except—the hairs stood up the back of her neck—somehow the air seemed crisper; a sharp tang of bay rum aftershave, sweat and leather.

Rey blinked, squinting her eyes into the dark expanse. Straining to hear any noises that didn‘t belong there, a dripping tap, the street sounds floating in from the kitchen and—breathing.

Shit.  

“Hello?” she asked, her voice shaking as she peered through the darkness. “Is anyone here?”

Strong arms, clamped around her from behind and she screamed as she was lifted off the ground. The room erupted with scurrying feet and sharp hisses.

“The chair!” A voice hissed. “Tie her to the chair.”

She was thrown into a metal chair and pinned against it by multiple unseeing hands. Overhead the light flickered on with an electric buzz and Rey clamped her eyes shut at the sudden glare. The man who had grabbed her from behind kneeled in front of her now, coldly binding her hands and feet with cable ties.

“Stop!” she cried. “I‘m just a scavenger. Can‘t you see I don‘t have anything you would want?”

“Shut up,” her captor hissed, tightening the cable ties around her hands, while another man appraised her. This one was also masked, but with the slightest hints of fiery hair showing at his collar.

“How would you know what we want?” he asked with a British accent, circling around her with his hands clasped before his abdomen.

Rey gulped, feeling weak and dizzy from the heat of the day.  She screamed for help though her mouth was hot and dry, and kicked her tattered boots at the black shapes crowding her.

They dragged her chair across the loungeroom, the grating metal on tile sound reminding her of scraping fingernails down a blackboard. She struggled, strained; it was no use. They dragged her to the middle of the room, where a single bright bulb hung by a wire, rocking overhead and making shadows dance on the walls.

The chair was tilted backward, forcing the white light to clash against her skin. The shadow towered above her, looming beyond the light, his face hidden by a balaclava and his coal-dark eyes melting into the darkness.

She stared at him in terror, unable to blink, body rigid as stone. If only she could get free and run from here and out the fire escape. The rotting emergency route to the street wouldn‘t take their weight; she was barely sure that it would hold hers.

She must have looked that way because her captor followed her gaze. How long had they been here waiting for her?  Did he even know there was another way out - the only way out, she thought, looking at the silent faceless creatures of darkness guarding the doorway.

He took three long strides in her direction and crouched at her feet.

She waited for him to speak, but he only cocked his head to the side considering his catch. With the light blaring onto her face, the surrounding men appeared like dark auras hovering on the outskirts of purgatory, waiting and watching their leader.

“Who    are    you?” Rey dared to ask, squinting her hazel eyes with fear—and curiosity.

“Last month you came into a sum of money…”

“No,” she whimpered, her voice failing her. “I don’t have that.”

“Three-hundred-fucking-grand,” one of the other men sneered from the shadows.

She shook her head wildly, her lips shaped the word “no”, over and over again.

“I know you have it.“ The masked man pounded a gloved hand into his opposite palm, cracking his knuckles with bone-shuddering certainty. She scrunched her face, waiting expectantly for a blow, but it didn‘t come. He paused, searching her face as though he were reading a map - the angles of her cheekbone, along the line of her jaw, focusing on the most minute of details as if to burn them into his memory. And lastly, to her eyes. Considering them with thoughtful curiosity.

“Get on with it.” The red-haired man was pacing a circle around them.

And then the study was over; the eyes in front of her grew dark and she was filled with foreboding. He stood abruptly, reaching for a metal bar that she would come to know as a Tonfa, an Okinawan weapon. He slapped it warningly against his leather palm.

“I know you have the money, and now you‘re going to give it to me.“

No, no, no! Her mind fought against the memory in her dream.

Why did it drag her here every night?

She kicked at him and felt someone poking at her arm, and she batted it away absently.

“Get away from me!” she screamed in the dream, but there was nothing she could do to make him stop, until—-

She woke.

Lifted out of the memory by a pair of powerful arms tucked beneath her knees and back. Her body tightened as though the man from her dreams had manifested before her. Her eyelids fluttered, and she saw the pale jaw, the long, black lashes that brushed shadows on high cheekbones, the hair, thick and dark as the night sky, and those earth brown eyes peering down at her. He held her body a little closer into his chest and a quiet whisper came from his lips.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Kylo.

Eyes closed, she sleepily slipped her arms around his neck and melted into his hold. Was she still mad at him? She couldn’t remember now that sleep was nipping at her heels. Maybe. But he had saved her from her nightmare. And that was enough.

“I was having a bad dream,” she said lazily. “He was going to hurt me.”

Kylo’s brow furrowed with concern. How tender his eyes were now. In this half-awake state, his body tight to hers, it warmed her, tucking into a cocoon of midnight.

Safe.

“Who was going to hurt you?”

“The man in black. He’s the one I dream about. The centre of my nightmares.”

The heaviness of sleep was bearing down on her before she saw the pain in his eyes, and she wondered why he looked so sad.

She would tell him; it was okay. She was okay. They were just nightmares —

The warmth of the bed swallowed her up, and she curled into the pillow. From far away, she could hear a soft promise: “He won’t hurt you again.”

How sure those words were. As though it were within his power to speak them.

It almost made her believe he could keep her safe from the demons of her dreams.

And maybe he could.