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itsmadeofwaffles · 10 days

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One night I had a weird dream about HM FoMT, at first I just wanted to illustrate my vision with some made up screenshots and gifs. But as I kept working on them I felt the need to also tell a story so, I ended up writing a one shot fanfic:

(Or if you prefer the text only version on AO3)

Until Dawn

Summary:

A sudden hurricane alert causes more than heavy rains and some falling trees. "Be careful when climbing the mountain. There are no wolves or bears, but you can't be too cautious. Know what I mean?." Once warned Gotz, but what did his words meant well, Claire will soon find out...

"Welcome home! You arrived just in time, I have finished making dinner." Said Karen enthusiastically standing next to a served table.

Lately her cooking had gotten slightly less disastrous with the help of Claire's guidance at the kitchen and, combined with the fact that the Farmer's stomach was now even more resilient to the strange meals, since that one winter when she spend a whole week eating questionable "foods" at the mines after getting lost while searching for the mythical Kappa Jewels. Somehow eating random herbs, mushrooms and other "looks edible enough" items had prepared her for her future married life.

"Sorry I couldn't help you with the dinner. I found some leaks in the roof of the chicken coop and it took me some time to fix it." Said Claire while washing her hands before taking a seat at the table. "The hurricane alert came out of nowhere."

"Don't worry, the safety of the farm is also important and I wanted to surprise you with a new recipe." Replied Karen while taking her seat across the table. "Remember next monday is the Harvest Festival, so I have to keep practicing if I want to impress everyone this year."

The dish in front of Claire was curry, one of the many recipes from the cook book she had written over the last few years since starting a life at the farm and the book her wife now used as a reference.

Realizing that Karen was waiting for her to taste the meal, the farmer thanked for the food and took a spoonful of rice and curry and proceeded to savor all the textures and flavors. -Hmm… The carrot is still under cooked... The burnt taste of the onion actually brings out it's sweetness and is a good contrast to the spiciness.- were some of her toughs as she eat and even if the rice was still on the watery side the meal was surprisingly tasty.

"Sasha is going to be so proud in the next Harvest Festival!" Claire said once she was able to speak again. "This is so good! Is sweet and spicy, the bamboo shoots gave it a distinctive crunch and the sauce is well seasoned. Just be sure to cut the carrots and potatoes more evenly to ensure they cook together and let the rice water to evaporate a bit longer to avoid the mushiness."

"You really think so?" Asked the one who for the longest time held the title of being 'unable to cook to save her life' not believing the farmer's words.

"Yes! I'm sure this curry will leave everyone in town speechless."

And after that exchange the two continued their dinner talking about how their day went and anything else that crossed their minds.

~~•~~•~~

Around midnight, just like the weather forecast had predicted, the storm started as a light rain that in a few hours turned into a hurricane, regardless, Claire went to sleep knowing the farm would be fine or so, she thought.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

At some point past 4am, the sound of the wind and raindrops falling onto the roof were violently replaced by a knocking door and the sound of yelling coming from the entrance of the house:

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"WAKE UP!! They are free again!"

Not waiting for an answer from the homeowners, the front door was abruptly opened and two men covered in raincoats made their way into the house. "Hurry! If we don't stop them the town will be doomed!" A second voice yelled.

At the sound of the intruders Claire opened her eyes and ran towards the entrance of the house, standing by the door she saw Gotz the Woodcutter and Thomas the Mayor of the town, before she could even start to question why they had irrupted into her house at this hour Gotz started to talk:

"The hurricane destroyed one of the mountain seals, Harris and Carter are already looking for it." Explained in a hurried voice. Somehow while explaining this his voice sounded as if he was doing everything in his power to remain calm, which to Claire it was disconcerting. "Here... Use this to defend yourself and don't let them get you. If they get a hold of you... You'll..."

Gotz didn't finish what he was saying, instead he shoved a long box into the farmer's arms and left for the mountains leaving Thomas behind.

Still standing in his spot, the color of his face was nowhere to be seen and the horror was clear in his eyes yet he tried to sound calm as he spoke "Listen, there's not much time before it starts." Quickly glancing at his pocket watch it read 4:36am. "Use what Gotz gave you to fight back and do your best to survive until morning. Last time… a tragedy occurred." He added with a somber look.

"It's almost time, I have to go and check on Saibara back in town. Be careful and fight as many as you can, just... resist until dawn."

Thomas left the farm heading to the town leaving a very confused Claire behind, once she had barely processed what had occurred she went back to the dorm were she found both occupants still sleeping, Karen and Pachu, the dog somehow continued to sleep as if nothing had happened at all.

Realizing that she kept holding the long box Gotz had shoved into her arms, she opened it to discover a simple hand crafted wooden bat with some odd markings engraved and a "Good luck" note inside. The strange "gift" confused her even more if it was possible.

But as soon as the farmer was starting to think of everything as some sort of joke the clock rang, the sudden sound caused her to look at it, 4:44am. -Why would announce this hour?- Claire wondered then she felt a strange pressure around her.

A strange dark haze covered the room and suddenly it dissipated in seconds, the wooden floors were replaced by hard, cold stone, the walls were covered in a thick layer of rotten grime, somehow the TV in the room turned itself on but only static could be seen.

Claire rushed to Karen's side, the woman was still sleeping but something on her was off, like if her body belonged to a different reality, frozen in place. Not wanting to disturb it and cause a tragedy the Farmer decided to walk away.

Clank! Clank! CRASH!

The sounds came from the kitchen.

"What's that!?" She exclaimed at the same time as Pachu ran barking towards the source of the sound. "He… He wasn't affected by any of this?" Not sure if that was a good or a bad thing she just felt relief for not being alone in this.

Before leaving for the kitchen, Claire gave one final look to the room and noticed that the friendly looking portrait of the Lake Deity that adorned the wall got replaced by the portrait of a being that clearly didn't belonged to this world. "I hope this is just a nightmare."

~~•~~•~~

Crawling through the stone floor an oozing dark sludge was moving. Claire couldn't help but stare at it unable to move, simply witnessing the bizarre event before her eyes and firmly clutching her hands to the bat she was holding.

Standing next to her Pachu kept growling at the sludge, the fur of his back up, ready to attack and defend his territory.

"This… Can't be… Happening!" The farmer whispered not fully understanding what she saw. The sound of her voice seemed to alert the amorphous sludge of her presence and started to head her way.

"Iii'm... HooOmEee!" An eerie voice suddenly emanated from the sludge as it approached both the farmer and the dog. "WeeLcoOmEee hOoMeEe!"

Claire felt a shiver going through her body at the sound of the creepy unearthly voice. "It's... talking… Why is talking!?" She cried trying to make sense of it.

As the creature crawled closer to her, it started to shapeshift, the sludge grew in size and morphed to resemble what seemed to be an humanoid form, it was as tall as an adult person, no hair, no skin, just the slime. When it was close enough to the farmer it's head twisted itself in a terrifying way to meet directly with her and when their yellowed eyes devoid of life made contact with Claire's, for a brief moment, she could feel how it saw through her soul as an incessant echoing of voices invaded every corner of her mind.

The creature's body oozed with the black sludge. "WeelCoomEee... DiinEeer iiS... rEeaAdy!" Screeched as it lunged itself towards Claire.

The screech broke her trance and without thinking twice she gripped the wooden bat in her hands and swung it at full force towards the monster, closing her eyes briefly she felt the impact and then saw how the monster's head splattered across the room, the body collapsed in front of her, returning to be an immobile pile of rotten goo.

"It… Worked…" She said trembling and struggling to catch her breath, more sure than ever that those creatures didn't belonged to this dimension nor reality and not wanting to make eye contact with them ever again.

Looking around the kitchen, Claire saw the monster's leftovers on the cabinets of the kitchen and thought it would be impossible to remove monster innards stains. -Why I'm worrying about something like that now?- She laughed at herself.

Bark! Bark! Grrr! Bark!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the barking and growling coming from the other room that reminded her that this wasn't over yet.

Rushing to the next room she found two piles of sludge approaching the barking dog, one by the table and another one by the bookshelf.

Using all the strength she could muster she hit the one closer to the table, in that moment a shriek was heard and the creature collapsed into a puddle of dark slime meanwhile, across the room the remaining monster readied itself to attack Pachu, the dog growled menacingly, Claire not taking a chance pushed the table between the two to create a barrier causing the monster to refocus it's target.

The humanoid sludge released a war cry, the sound was so unnatural and so nauseating that for a moment the farmer flinched, barely avoiding the incoming attack, she dodged it, quickly turning to her right to reposition her stance and then...

PLAF!

From the corner of her eye she spotted another one appearing by the window and with the adrenaline still rushing through her body she launched herself to it, getting rid of the monster before it could even take it's humanoid shape.

"How many more there are!? Where these are coming from!?" she said exasperated. "Sigh… Thomas said I need to keep doing this until dawn but…" The clock on the wall read 4:44am. "Time hasn't moved at all!"

The growling and shrieking sounds coming from different areas of the farm interrupted her complaints, and deciding that she would leave that for a moment when those who she cares about, and herself, won't be in an imminent danger to get answers. She gripped her weapon and braced herself for what seemed to be the longest night in her life.

~~•~~•~~

Two… five… nine… twelve… Losing track of how many she had dispatched so far and not sure of how much time had passed, if at all, since the last time she checked the clock the tiredness was already taking a tool on her, her arms ached and now under the rain, keeping herself up was an even more complicated task.

One more appeared by the carrots, feeling her head spinning and dreading the possibility of this nightmare never ending Claire took a deep breath and proceeded to encounter the monster.

PLAF!

"I... I... Did it…" That was the last of her strength. Claire felt her knees gave in and her body collapsing on the ground, at the same time the clock back in the house finally rang at 6am; The dark haze from before engulfed the farm and like before once it dissipated, the strange pressure was lifted off and everything returned to normal.

Understanding what that meant the farmer closed her eyes and passed out of tiredness and relief that the nightmare was over.

~~•~~•~~

The sound of water drops hitting the windows and the distant thunders eventually woke up a very confused Claire, as she tried to get up a sharp pain made her yelp and fall onto the bed again. "Gah…! My arms hurt! What… I'm doing here…?" She tried to make memory of when she got to bed last night but, the last thing she could remember was the chickens and the heavy rain.

"Urgk… There's no way fixing the chicken coop can tire me like this..." Making another effort she finally was able to sit on the side of the bed "Huh...?" -Gotz, Thomas and… The nasty goop monsters.- "I remember!" The farmer stood up so quickly that it got her dizzy.

"There are slimy monster remains around the house! How I'm going to explain this to Karen?" -Karen!- Her eyes scanned the room but no one besides her was here. -Did... she woke up? Is she hurt?- As she hurried towards the door a new fear was unlocked. "Pachu! What happened to him!"

Stumbling into the kitchen and almost tripping, the first thing she saw was Pachu happily chewing on some carrots. "Pachu! You're not hurt!" The dog got up and went to greet it's owner wagging it's tail, when the dog was at arms reach she picked it up to hug him. "Ouch! My arms hate me right now but I don't care, I'm so relieved that nothing happened to you!"

"Ohh… You finally woke up." The Farmer turned to the source of the voice while allowing the dog to return to his snack. "I was getting worried because you usually are the first one to wake up but since there's a hurricane… I thought it would be good to let you rest some more."

Karen now was standing right next to her, a quick flashback of her previous unresponsive state, the echoing of tortured voices invaded her mind and, ignoring all the pain in her body she couldn't help but throw her arms around her and tightly hug her in relief. "You… Were worried about, me…? I'm the one who didn't knew if you or anything would return to normal ever again!" She cried as she felt some tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

"Huh!? What do you mean?" A confused Karen asked trying to understand the situation, she was rubbing her hand on the back of the farmer to try and reassure her. "Did you have a nightmare last night? I'm perfectly fine." She added now fully returning the hug, together they stood like that for a few minutes as Claire calmed down.

"The dark haze, the horrendous monsters, the incessant voices of creatures forced into life… And the house is a mess, how can… ehh!?" Finally breaking the hug she threw a look around realizing that everything was in place. "But the table was… And the windows were… The cabinets didn't…" The farmer was speechless.

Unable to comprehend how the room was in perfect state. -Did last night truly was a nightmare or... some type of hallucination?- She started to question her own sanity. -Okay, let's see, my body aches and…- suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand in her forehead.

"Hmm… You don't seem to have a fever, maybe we should simply take a seat." Karen gently guided her to the sofa in the living room "Okay, now take a deep breath, I'm going to make some tea so you can tell me about your nightmare. You'll feel better talking about it." She was heading back to the kitchen but then stopped "Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, I found a letter addressed to you by the entrance. Here."

[Dear Claire:

We're so sorry for intruding like we did last night, I really hopped "this event" to never repeat itself again but unfortunately nature wasn't on our side, and I'm sure you have a lot of questions and probably want to personally express your frustration at us.

I want you to know how grateful I am that you could overcome this terrible task in success.

This is something that your grandfather didn't wish to inherit you and neither we did.

I assure you we'll give you the answers you seek soon, just have patience, I know this is to much to ask for but please act as if it hadn't happened, we don't want to cause a commotion.

Sincerely, Thomas.

P.S. Don't throw away the bat.]

"They really are asking me this? After all that!? The nerve." She murmured to herself as she finished reading. "What did my grandfather knew? Well, at least now I know it was real."

Now that she had calmed down, Claire decided to head back to the kitchen too, where she told a version of her nightmare to Karen who in exchange suggested that maybe the farmer has been working to much lately and that it's good that they can take the day off and relax until the storm is over, together they eat strawberry cake and had tea.

For now at least, this was over and she could return to her every day life as a farmer.

#hm fomt #harvest moon #friends of mineral town #hm fomt fanfiction #my writing #based of a dream #fanfic #took longer than I wish to admit to create the fake screenshots and gifs #also I changed the layout for the beds because I don´t like the original #I've been playing the gay hack

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morbidology · 2 years

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In the small farming town of Fenald, Ohio, lay “The Freed Material Production Center,” more commonly known as “N.L.O.” From 1953 to 1989, this was one of the very few plants in the USA which secretly processed high grade uranium which would be used in nuclear weapons. The workers were told that they had to keep their activities within the factory a secret. The conditions inside the factory were anything but safe and in 1984, it was revealed that N.L.O had been leaking more than 200 tonnes of radioactive dust particles into the air and local water: it was an environmental disaster.

Just a few months beforehand, they had been rocked by another scandal. One of the employee’s, Dave Bocks, died a particularly gruesome death inside the factory. Shrouded by controversy and conspiracy, this case is a bizarre one. Dave’s family are adamant that Dave was going to blow the whistle on the damage N.L.O was doing to the environment and as a result, he was savagely killed. Dave’s job within the factory was to maintain the equipment in the factory, something he had been doing since 1981.

At approximately midnight on 18 June, 1984, Dave was seen by another co-worker, Harry, in the car of a supervisor; they seemed to be having a very “serious discussion.” An hour later, Harry ran into Dave inside the factory. He said he was walking towards Plant 6 as opposed to Plant 8 which was where he had been assigned to work that day. Harry thought nothing of it and carried on with his own duties. Sadly, this was the last time Dave was ever seen alive. Harry looked for Dave a few hours later - they were supposed to go to a restaurant together and it was Dave’s turn to drive. Harry was unable to find him but found his toolbox and car keys.

The following morning, a furnace operator noticed that there was some sticky residue and a foul odour coming from one furnace. When it was noticed that Dave’s car was still in the parking lot yet he had not been seen for a number of hours, his co-workers began to search for him. An investigation revealed that the temperature in Plant 6 had dropped significantly at 5 a.m., indicating a foreign object had found it’s way into the furnace and something which appeared to look like bone was found on the lip of the furnace; the authorities were called in. The furnace was shut down and took three days for the molten liquid inside to cool down. When it was searched, they discovered Dave’s car keys. But if Dave’s keys were found when the initial search for him began, then how did they end up in the furnace?

They also discovered a steel toe from a boot, an eyeglasses frame, and Dave’s walkie talkie inside the furnace, as well as more pieces of human bone. Evidently, Dave was dead, but authorities suggested that he had committed suicide - something his family refuse to believe. Many theorise, including co-worker Dave Day, that he was “lowered into the furnace and murdered.” All that’s left of him is a few bone fragments which are far too toxic to be buried in the ground, meaning his enraged family can still not lay him to rest. They get by on the hopes that whoever killed him, knocked him unconscious beforehand, because the thought of him being burnt alive is too much for them to handle.

#death #morbid #mystery #bizarre

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greatandquestionablecontent · 7 months

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Just Sweet Enough

Some sickening Jade/Ari fluff for In The Mirror I Saw Who You Could Have Been. Takes place after they have an awful ordeal in the mountains, nearly die, go hungry for a long time, trauma bond, etc etc.

Emerging from the caves into the Elders’ valley was nothing short of magical in itself. Jade could see the sunlight for many long minutes far off, and that gap in the ceiling of the cave grew larger and closer as they made the arduous trek uphill. For the last section, there were stairs of stone and wood slabs, and they all stripped away layers as they ascended. It was hardly balmy summer weather, but after the chill of the caves, which had still been better than the cruel icy winds before them, the frosty valley felt more than plenty warm to Jade.

All the color made her realize just how starved for color she’d been in this dead empty landscape. Finally something besides snow and rock and sky. Many silvery green plants she didn’t recognize grew in the rocky soil, gnarled and low to the ground, and ahead were long buildings with walls of green glass that almost glowed in the sunlight. Ari informed her these were called “green houses.”

“Creative name,” Jade commented, and Ari giggled. It had been a long time since Jade had heard her laugh, hadn’t it?

Ari took her hand and led her to one of them. When they opened the door, the air that greeted them was warm and muggy, and little bugs zooming around reminded Jade that she hadn’t so much as seen a living insect in weeks. Inside appeared to be full summer’s harvests all stuffed in together, clusters of wild grains, little trees and shrubs, with tiny fruits and berries, some vegetables and flowers she knew and others she could only guess at. There were no orderly rows like she would expect from a farm, just everything scattered as it pleased in the rich damp soil.

“Help yourself to anything,” Daishin told them with a smile.

Jade hardly new where to start. The idea of infinite food was strangely nauseating, like her stomach had truly shrunk and forgotten how to handle anything more than the bowl of soup they’d had that morning. She was trying to assess whether this familiar lumpy green shape was a cucumber or a zucchini, but Ari, hand still in hers, dragged her back outside towards another one of the green houses. “Remember the plums I told you about, from when I was a kid? I wonder if they still have the tree. Oh, stars, they still have the tree.” Her voice cracked at the end.

By the time they got to the gnarled thing itself, Ari had tears dribbling down her cheeks, and neither of them could bring themselves to try the fruits at first, though they were perfectly soft and golden. Jade took the first bite, finding them faintly sweet and so juicy that the liquid ran down her chin and fingers and into her sleeves before she could even spit out the pit. Wasps wandered idly nearby, more interested in the fallen fruits on the ground than in the humans.

“Is it silly that I’m afraid they won’t be as good as I remember?” Ari asked quietly, like she was also afraid Daishin would overhear her, though the Elder watched them from a respectful distance.

“Yeah, it’s silly,” Jade told her. “I get it, but c’mon. Get it together, girl, you’re starving.”

Ari laughed and wiped at her cheeks. Jade brought one to her mouth, and Ari took a bite with a muffled, “Mmph!” On impulse, Jade kissed her, sweet and wet and messy, and she cackled when Ari turned away and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

She didn’t think anything of it until she caught sight of Daishin again out of the corner of her eye, who watched them with a pleasant, neutral smile, and she remembered to wonder whether Ari’s long lost family had particular opinions about seeing some girl kiss her with that much tongue. Ari looked a little flustered, but tears were still leaking out of her eyes, and Jade decided on the spot that if Daishin dared interrupt them, she’d personally have to fight the Elder herself.

Daishin instead gave them some subtle privacy. They wandered over to another plant, pruning and plucking, their back to the girls.

“Well?” Jade pressed, snatching a new plum and taking another bite. “Wh-waw-weh?”

“What?” Ari snickered.

Jade swallowed. “How are they?”

Ari considered for a while, working through another and spitting out the pit, before saying, “Just like I remember. Blander than the plums I’m used to, down the mountain, don't you think? But that’s just how they always were.”

“Maybe I’ve forgotten what other plums taste like. They’re plenty sweet to me!”

“They’re plenty sweet to me, too! They’re supposed to be like this. It wouldn’t be the same if they weren’t. Does that make sense?”

Jade thought about how the eggs for sale in street markets had seemed so large to her at first, compared to the ones from her aunt’s ranch. She’d gotten so used to the bigger ones available in every city along her journey, but if she’d gone home, and her aunt’s ducks laid perfectly marketable eggs every time, it wouldn’t have been the same. It wouldn’t have felt right, and they would have tasted worse for it.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” she said, and they ate in silence.

#i was planning to do something for whumptober but so far ive just done this irrelevant piece of fluff #in the mirror i saw who you could have been #jade #ari #my writing #i legit just scribbled this out and threw it up here #i think it counts as #hurt/comfort #the hurt just happened previously #just gals being pals

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ammg-old2 · 1 year

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I have twice met the man who has just been crowned King Charles III, both times on occasions so unmemorable that I am certain he cannot possibly recall either one. I recall them very well, of course—where we were (once in London, once in Warsaw); what we wore (he, gray pinstripes; I, a black dress); what we said (nothing of consequence). That’s the essence of my relationship to the new king, and also the essence of all of our relationships with royalty. They know nothing whatsoever about us, but we remember absolutely everything about them.

Sometimes, in fact, we know an extraordinary amount about them. Without ever having tried especially hard, I know more details about the relationship between Charles and Queen Camilla than I know about, say, the relationship between my sister and my brother-in-law. Because their phones are tapped and the transcripts are then published, because their courtiers have an enormous incentive to leak gossip, because even their relatives have much to gain by talking and writing about them—because of all this, I know things about them almost by osmosis. Even if I don’t want to know the intimate details, I just do.

Not that this is their fault. Of course they can be criticized for failing to navigate the world of celebrity journalism and for their clumsy attempts to manipulate it. But they didn’t create it, and it isn’t a world they were ever going to inhabit comfortably. This royal family has been singularly unprepared to function as a national soap opera. In its modern incarnation, the British monarchy long succeeded because it was precisely the opposite, and the Windsors would have been happy to continue in that tradition.

All they have ever wanted, it seems, was to follow the rules laid out by the Victorian writer Walter Bagehot, whose influential book The English Constitution, published in 1867, argued that the ideal constitutional monarch is unknowable, unreachable. Their personality should be dull; their opinions kept to themselves. A queen is not friendly or relatable; a king is not someone with whom you would like to have a beer. The more he is perceived as a symbol—of the nation, of unity, of history—and the less he seems like an actual human being, the more effective he will be. “Its mystery is its life,” Bagehot wrote of the monarchy. “We must not let in daylight upon magic.”

The Windsors took this idea and ran with it. The late Queen’s rather rigid public persona, her careful avoidance of controversy, even her chilly (by modern standards) methods of raising her children—all of that seems to have been a deliberate attempt to fit into Bagehot’s definition. Throughout her life, she sought to preserve the mystery, to keep out the daylight. Then she taught Charles to do the same.

But during her reign the world changed. Slowly, the Royal Family agreed to do more public events, to have more contact with ordinary people, even to appear in some prime-time television specials (It’s a Royal Knockout, a kind of game show, was one notable failure). Charles, as Prince of Wales, devoted himself to sustainable farming, walkable towns, environmental causes. He was many years ahead of the curve—he made a speech denouncing the excessive use of plastics, and predicting damage to the environment, as far back as 1970—but got little credit for it. Instead, daylight was let in, the magic disappeared, and it’s not necessary to explain what happened next, because all of us know, whether we want to or not. Eventually we got to where we are now, an era of dueling interviews, staged photographs, and competing best-selling memoirs. And this is now the problem: If there is no magic about the monarch, then what possible constitutional purpose does he serve?

#current events #politics #british politics #monarchy #political philosophy #britain #england #charles iii #elizabeth ii

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martinsenmcdermott52 · 2 years

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memurfevur-archive · 2 years

Text

Ouroboros

Character(s): Rutaci Faurux, mentions of Liahne Zaleae, mentions of Stygia Astera (@whispertrolls)

About: Rutaci returns to his roots to end it all, but finds light in the shadow of a friend.

Word Count: 2,309

CW: depression, suicidal tendencies/attempts, suicidal ideation, starvation

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It took a lifetime to go back to the beginning.

Perhaps his feet just knew the way all along. He surely didn't mean to end up here. What do they say? All roads lead to Trome?

Rutaci's legs wobbled as he willed himself to step onto the estate. Doing so was like walking into a time capsule. The breeze still created familiar creeks in the ole windmill. The grass still crunched under foot, the apple tree still provided rudimentary shade; there was still standing water in the open barrels and troughs, now a breeding ground for insects. The fields still lay where they were, though the crops were now gnarled and withered, yellowed and browned and hardly recognizable from sweeps of neglect. The silos and wheelbarrows were rusted. The wood of the hive had some remnants of paint left, trying desperately to hold onto the cute summer hive aesthetic Rutaci and Liahne had tried so hard to maintain against the elements. The wind chimes still hung from the porch, twinkling a lonely tune.

He trudged on, numbing himself so the memories wouldn't come.

The wooden boards of the porch creaked heavily under his step. Old and warping from age, they weren't used to supporting a grown man with metal in his body. Rutaci ran his hand over the screen door, feeling the texture of time at his fingertips. There was a sigil on the door, a trident spray painted in red.

The Empire's brand to let others know that this location was on a watch list.

The door whined as he opened it and stepped inside, ignoring the warning.

At least inside the hive didn't look as run down and decrepit. True, dust layered every bit of furniture that inhabited the place, and a patch in the ceiling where it leaked wouldn't hurt, but otherwise it was a humble and homely abode. The screen door opened up to an unspectacular kitchen with wooden cabinets, thin lace curtains over the window above the sink, and rotted fruit that was no more than a measily core lay forgotten in a bowl. There was a small table to the side that had once been used for extra preparation room as well as dining. Rutaci could still make out the worn rings that were left behind by hot dinner plates and sweating cups filled with lemonade.

Beyond the kitchen lie the living room. It was a small space shaped like an L. A small TV set stood at one end of the L with cushioned chairs and a floral-print sofa to keep it company. To Rutaci's left was the other end of the living room where bookshelves holding tomes of agricultural knowledge and tables showcasing aged vintage knick-knacks lined the way to both the basement and the respite blocks.

Framed pictures peppered the walls; many of them being of himself and Liahne and whoever was within their friend circle at the time. His eyes scanned over these. There was the one with him and Liahne fishing down at the lake-- or attempted to. Rutaci's a horrible fisherman, meanwhile Liahne had been able to catch a huge three-eyed catfish Lusus that day. They may have orphaned some unfortunate Troll-- but hey, the dinner had been good. A small frame held a sneak shot of Rutaci and his Lusus napping in the hay of the barn, clearly Liahne's work. Another picture was of Rutaci with some drinking buddies on one of their poker nights. The basement had been a popular social room on days where Rutaci and the others weren't tending to the farm-- and later, a meeting place for unruly rebels.

On the mantle nearest the TV were more framed pictures. What was special of this one was that it was a group photo of some of the rebels. It seemed that the circles under Rutaci's eyes grew darker as he gazed upon the familiar faces-- some who had been best friends and some who had been quadrants. His eyes lingered on one man in particular. Angled features that sported a youthful face, warm and inviting, with a sly smile that always gave away that there was something cooking up in his thinkpan; patterned horns in the shape of Lipio's curves and points; soft teal eyes that spoke deep within you, telling you that you were the most special Troll in the world to them, the best moirail, and how he was only one in the world who could really understand you....

Rutaci flipped the frame down, burying the past from his sight.

The hallway that led to the respite blocks wasn't anything spectacular. A pot of dying house plants sat in the corner, its leaves littering the floor. Just ahead was the basement and bathroom, and on either side of the hall was a single respite block-- a guest room often used for storage, and then Liahne's and Rutaci's old room.

There was something hollowing gazing into the space that he and his past lover shared countless intimate nights in. The recuperacoon was empty with bits of slime crusted on the edges, its contents long since evaporated. A dresser stood to one side, and a small closet on the other. It was very clear who had claimed what side of the room; Liahne's, to the left, showed a collection of worn and dusty stuffed plushies mimicking various Lusii. She never had a Lusus of her own, she had told him once, and so she had liked to pretend those were the parental creature's watching over her; nevermind the fact that Bullpecula became just as much her Lusus as it was his. Rutaci's side, on the other hand, sported a variety of farming tools and mud-caked clothing. Hardly anything silly, as he was more about business and realistic goals than Liahne ever was.

Rutaci somberly stalked to his recuperacoon side table and picked up a small plush that resembled his Lusus: a fox with bull horns and back hooves. Bullpecula. Liahne had made this herself for an anniversary present once. Around its neck was a psuedo-gold bracelet with a heart-shaped locket. Clicking open the charm revealed a small image of the two Trolls and their animal friend. With a sigh, Rutaci hugged the plush to him, ignoring it's musky scent and the dust that covered the synthetic fur. Of all his possessions, of all the gold he carried in his body, this one treasure was priceless.

He retreated to the recuperacoon and sat on the floor with his back pressed against the chamber.

He could die here, he thought. He could waste away the days and nights until there was nothing left to him. Perhaps it was about time for such a conclusion for his story. Why not? Wouldn't it be better than to remain a puppet? Let the grave robbers take his ruined bones; his hope and livelihood had already been taken sweeps ago. There was nothing left for him to live for.

And so a day passed. Two. Three. He tried to will himself to keep still, to ignore the hunger pains raking deep within. Rutaci had tried to go a quicker route. A noose waited for him in his respite block. He had held knives to his person, cursing the fact that his wrists were bound with metal, and having enough anxiety to avoid his throat or midsection. He had filled the bathroom sink with water, but of course no unbound body would allow itself to drown. Why, then, wouldn't he let himself kick the bucket, so to speak? He doubted he truly wanted to live. Perhaps it was only cowardice that spared his life?

Ironically, cowardice would not be the thing to take it, either.

"I'm so sorry," he muttered to no one. Rutaci laid on his back, his legs propped against the recuperacoon. He slid his hands over his face tiredly. "I'm so sorry for everything." His hands clenched his hair between his horns, his lips pulled back in a grimace as a headache summoned tears to his eyes. "I shouldn't have said yes. I should have listened to you, my flower. I'm sorry, I wasn't enough, I failed you. I failed Birdy. I failed all those I swore to help..." The smell of singed hair filled the room. Tears stung the back of his eyes, spilling onto his scarred cheeks. "And nothing I could ever do will make it okay."

The sun peaked over the horizon and unfurled its long serpentine rays uninvited through Rutaci's window. In the dimness of dawn light, long shadows were cast on the walls, making funny shapes that borderlined sentient and living. Rutaci watched as these shadows jittered back and forth before his exhausted eyes. He couldn't hear them, but they answered every unspoken question in his head with so much as a bounce and a wriggle. The movement made him feel dizzy and he curled in on himself, holding his head. One shadow looked almost Troll-like, having a body made of a lamp and some of Liahne's many stuffed animals. Ah, the shape of sweeping horns and a cloak, and a body build that was so familiar that Rutaci's first instinct was to reach out and hold it to him.

Stygia.

Of course, that was impossible. Yet, this figment was perhaps the only thing keeping the Pyriteblood from jumping out of a window. He slowly sat up and rested his head back against the recuperacoon and opened his dry, dehydrated mouth. "There's little here for me to miss," he croaked. He cracked a small smile, splitting his bottom lip, "We could live in that country side manor we talked about, we could write that pamphlet, that journal, sparking hope... We could be together, happy. I would, just need to join you."

The wary shadow jittered. It almost looked as if it shook its head.

Rutaci frowned. Clenching his teeth, he picked up the nearest object to him-- his lusus plush-- and angrily threw it at the shadow. "No! I could join you! I'll join you, damn it! I'll do it! I'll fucking do it!" He leaned forward, crawling towards one of the kitchen knives he fancied a day ago, abandoned on the floor. Rutaci slithered on his stomach, dragging himself across ruined, splintered floorboard. He extended his arm to reach for the knife, only to be an inch short of his fingertips grazing the handle. Ah, pathetic. He was too far away. Rutaci looked helplessly at the knife lying tantalizingly before him. Useless. Couldn't even grab a knife. Grief consumed him. His body shook and writhed as sobs gurgled in his throat. He lowered his head, cheek on his arm, as tears flowed freely once more. Angry, he hit the floor with the fist of his opposing hand.

Rutaci stayed there occupying the floor, hand just out of reach of the weapon. He felt too weak to retrieve it. His eyes held captivated by the jittering shadow of his long dead moirail. Time passed. Seconds ticked by. Minutes sluggishly nodded their acknowledgement, and hours dragged carelessly far behind. The sun made its way across the sky. Its rays had kissed Rutaci's hand through its journey, leaving his arm blistered. He didn't care. His eyes never left the shadow which, by now, was shifted and skewed.

Shorter. The shadow was shorter. Younger. Rutaci squinted. This was no longer Stygia, and his interest faded. That is until the shade of the drawn curtains fell upon this shape, transforming the cloak into baggy clothes. Rutaci blinked; his voice broke as he tried to speak. Broken. Parched. "Novalx..."

He had left them. Alone. Wasn't there was a Purpleblood out there somewhere who wanted Novalx dead? Rutaci's head throbbed. Pain wrenched his gut tightly with an iron claw. Oh...

They looked so much like their ancestor. A walking memory, a breathing clone. Hadn't Stygia once mentioned about living through a legacy? She had trusted him, trusted him to be the paired ancestor. Father. That was their kid. That kid was the last thing he had left of her....

And he had left them all alone.

It took much longer than he would have liked to find the energy to push himself off the floor. He stumbled, weak, dizzy, unstable. Ah, but he was up now, he was on his feet. He looked to the shadow of his descendant, though it didn't quite look like them anymore. Just a vague shape made by long forgotten toys. He realized then that none of what happened was real; Stygia nor Novalx had come, their shadows didn't talk to him. But, before he could let it all sink in all over again, he stumbled out of the room.

Light was dying outside. The sun sunk slowly down, kissing the horizon and embracing it gently like a lover. Shadows were long and reaching, desperate for something tangible to hold. The wind was not as friendly; though it brought much relief from being inside such a stuffy hive, it brought chills along Rutaci's arms before long.

He held himself as he gazed at his long abandoned hive. This had been his wrigglerhood home. His entire life had been had here. With a grunt, he laid a hand on one of the wooden supports of the porch.

There was a click. A groan. A hiss. A sizzle.

The old dry wood whined in protest as flames began to lick its body. A leg of fire, starved from sweeps of neglect, ran crying to the rest of the hive. The hive crackled, accusing Rutaci of his betrayal as it was stirred awake by the pain. What about the memories? Why should he throw those away? Now the reels were burning and happy thoughts turned to ash.

With a quiet sniffle-- the only nod of acknowledgement for the passing of a friend-- Rutaci turned and left.

#Rutaci Faurux #fevur writing #Ouroboros Unbound #suicide #suicidal ideation #starvation

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Words: 8714 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, blood, severe injuries, fear, anxiety, death of a character A/N: This is the FINAL part of a miniseries! You can find the other chapters on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Shane go missing.

Your name: submit What is this?

Two weeks later

“I can actually do it myself,” you insisted, feeling a blush in your cheeks as Daryl pulled your hand over onto his lap and bent over it, luckily oblivious to the pink glow now filling your cheeks.

He huffed at you. “I’m sure ya can,” he drawled, “but it’s definitely easier for someone with two hands, don’t ya think?”

You watched as he methodically and carefully snipped the stitches in your hand and pulled the sutures away, apologizing if they tugged at all. A lot had happened in the last two weeks. Pretty much everyone had come around to the fact that Shane had hurt himself in an attempt to get the group to abandon you. There had been a massive fight between him and Rick and since then Shane had been confined to his tent while he healed. When Hershel found out what had happened, he told Rick that Shane couldn’t stay, but Rick had already decided that he had go. His best friend seemed to be growing more bitter and more unstable by the day.

But Shane was still around temporarily, and because of that Daryl had refused to leave you to sleep unguarded at night. You’d argued that it would be fine and that you didn’t really think Shane would try to pull anything else, but the archer was insistent. Eventually, you caved. Daryl had hauled your cot and bedding to his tent and set them up along the opposite wall from his, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck at the strange nervousness and yet gratitude he felt knowing you’d be so close.

You both fell into an easy routine together. Your physical closeness may have been borne out of necessity but the other growing closeness developed organically. Spending time with Daryl was easy. He didn’t mind when you were quiet for hours on end, lost in your own head as you aimlessly tossed twigs into the fire. He didn’t mind when you wanted to talk about something specific or nothing at all, and you felt the same way about him. The silences didn’t bother you with Daryl and every time he did open his mouth it was either to make you laugh or to say something you were genuinely interested in hearing. He was constantly checking on you over the smallest things. If you shivered in the evening as you spent time around the fire, he’d insist that you moved closer to the flames or he’d go get a blanket from his tent and toss it down on your lap without a word before he took his place again. He’d make sure you were eating and would refill your canteen whenever he thought about it. You did what you could to return the favors but he usually seemed to beat you to it.

“I guess with these out I can finally start hunting again,” you said. “And going out and gathering stuff.”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, his eyes narrowed as he focused on removing the very last stitch. “There.” He straightened up and looked at the slightly raised pink scar down the center of your palm. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he ran a finger lightly down the length of it.

You startled at the unfamiliar sensation, a little strange due to the altered sensation along the length of the scar, but even more so because of the way your heart jumped at the touch of Daryl’s fingers so light on your palm. You involuntarily pulled you hand back and your eyes shot up to meet his.

He gave you a sheepish look. “Sorry. Did that hurt?” He regretted it the moment he’d done it, worried about your reaction.

You shook your head. “No, it just—”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” you finished quietly, chewing on your bottom lip a little anxiously. He quirked an eyebrow at you but simply stood up.

“Alright. Well, couple more days and that asshole will be outta here,” he growled, glancing over in the direction of Shane’s tent. He wasn’t yet allowing himself to acknowledge that he was worried things would go back to the way they were before once Shane was gone. That is, you’d retreat back to your space and back to yourself. He was really liking his time with you and he didn’t want it to end. The archer shook his head and glanced back at you. Your eyes were now on Shane’s tent, too but your expression was fretful. “S’matter?” he prompted you.

You sighed. “I just feel like it’s my fault he has to leave…”

“Nah. Nah, it ain’t. Y/N, if it weren’t you it’d be somethin’ else. He’s been spiralin’ down since Rick showed up alive and took his family back. It ain’t got nothin’ to do with ya, not really.”

You still looked unsure but the worry lines in your forehead eased a little. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“Listen, I told Carol I’d go help her with that new tent. Ya gonna be alright over here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm. I’ll be right here. Andrea gave me a new book.” You did glance a little longingly over your shoulder at the far tree line and Daryl was always amazed that even after the traumatic incident in those very same woods that you still wanted to be out there almost every minute of the day.

“Hey,” he said, calling your attention back to him. “We’ll go out and hunt tomorrow, alright?”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.” You watched his broad shoulders fade toward the main camp.

Carol was waiting when Daryl arrived. Her old tent had started to leak and Daryl had promised to help her get the new one they’d found set up. She stood up as he strode over, already flustered by the number of pins and ropes and metal poles. “If I’d known I’d be living out of a tent I definitely would have stuck with the Girl Scouts when I was a kid,” she said, giving Daryl a helpless look.

He let out a gruff laugh. “Ya got that the wrong way around,” he said, pointing to the pole she’d already slipped through the tent. She stared at it and sighed. “S’alright. That’s why I’m here right?” he said. “Gimme that,” he said, grabbing the bundle of poles in her hands and setting to work. In no time they had the tent upright and were going about staking it down. Carol handed Daryl another stake and he pounded it into the ground securing down the corner.

“So… what’s going on with you and Y/N exactly?” she asked him.

The archer froze and shot a look at her before returning his eyes to what he was doing, grateful for a task to focus on even as he felt his ears growing red. “What’d ya mean?”

“Well,” Carol continued, “you’re sharing a tent,” she said with a smile.

Daryl scoffed. “So? I shared a tent with T-dog once. Ya gonna ask me if we held hands?”

Carol laughed and smirked at him. “Well, did you?” Daryl rolled his eyes at her and she laughed harder.

“We’re sharin’ a tent cuz there’s a psycho that probably is blamin’ all his problems on her. And I don’t want shit to go sideways.”

“So, that’s it? You’re just sharing a tent for purely practical reasons,” Carol said. Daryl could hear the skepticism in her voice and he straightened up after tying off the knot to the stake.

“The hell are ya on about?” Daryl growled. But even as he tried to act gruff and brush her off, he felt that heat growing in his chest that was becoming familiar when he thought of you.

“You two just seem to get along,” Carol said. “That’s all.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, moving to the next corner of the tent. Something about that response made Carol laugh again.

“You’re so sensitive,” she murmured, eliciting an eyeroll from him. “Daryl, I just like to see you happy. And lately, since you’ve been spending so much time with Y/N, you’ve been happy,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t deny that. She was right. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, his hands still on the last length of cord before he tied it off and pounded in the stake. He stood up and stepped back, taking in the structure. “Alright. All done.”

“Thanks,” she said gratefully, surveying it. She gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze and smiled. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, chewing on the side of his thumbnail, glancing up at her.

“If you really like her,” she paused and shrugged, “tell her. Life is short these days.” She knew that as well as anyone. A husband, abusive asshole or not, and a precious little girl were gone to this world.

Daryl only ducked his head and lazily twirled a piece of grass between his fingers. “I’ll see ya,” he murmured, turning and heading back toward his tent. He was expecting you to be sitting beside the fire where you’d been when he left, but that spot was empty. He approached the tent and stopped outside the door. “Y/N? Ya in there?” When there was no answer, he unzipped it and peeked inside. No sign of you. The book that had been in your hand was on the tent floor and he bent and picked it up, setting it on the upturned box that was serving as a nightstand next to your cot. That’s when he realized your knife was there. He’d been thinking maybe you had to go use the bathroom, but you never left camp without your knife at your hip, whether it was for two minutes or two hours. And it wasn’t like you to leave a book on the ground. You treated the damn things like they were some sacred tomes. He felt panic start to grow in his chest and left the tent in a hurry, his blue eyes scanning the area where everyone else was set up and the tree line. He didn’t see you anywhere.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow and took off running toward the main camp. He found Lori and Carol preparing some food for dinner and stopped beside them. “Hey—have ya’ll seen Y/N anywhere? She come through here at all?” He directed the question at Lori since Carol had been busy with him getting the tent set up.

She stood up and dusted her hands off on her jeans, shaking her head. Her eyes went a little wide with worry as she registered the deep concern on Daryl’s face. “No, I—I haven’t seen her. You can’t find her?”

Daryl didn’t even stay to answer. He just tore off in the direction of the farmhouse and bounded up onto the front porch. Glenn and Maggie both stood up at the expression on his face. “Ya’ll see Y/N? Did she come up here?”

Maggie shook her head. “No,” Glenn answered, immediately worried. “What’s going on?”

Daryl swore under his breath and paced a restless circle, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “I—I was gone for maybe an hour helpin’ Carol and now I can’t find her anywhere. She wouldn’ta gone off without her knife or nothin’,” he said. His jaw clenched and Glenn watched the muscle twitch. Daryl’s eyes quickly landed on the tent Shane was confined to and he took off at a full sprint toward it. Glenn was on his heels now.

“Daryl! Daryl, take it easy!” Glenn yelled after him. It drew the attention of the rest of the group and soon Rick and Andrea were standing beside Glenn as Daryl ripped back the entrance to Shane’s tent.

Daryl’s stomach twisted. Shane’s tent was empty. He kicked out at a milk crate that had some of Shane’s things on it and it toppled over. “Shane’s gone and Y/N is missin’!” he roared at Rick.

Rick gulped. A hard pit formed in his stomach. “Daryl—Daryl, just calm down,” Rick said.

That had the opposite effect. “Calm down? Calm down?!” he roared. “This ain’t no coincidence! I told ya he didn’t deserve to stay here to heal up, and now look what’s happened!”

“We’ll find them! We’ll find them. We will. Just—”

“Nah. I’m gonna track that fuckin’ prick and if he’s laid so much as a finger on her, he’s a dead man.” Daryl took off without another word, racing back to the last place he’d seen you, his eyes scanning the ground the whole way, hoping for a track, a trail, something.

“Dale, get the guns,” Rick said. “Lori, you and Carol take Carl up to the house and see if you can wait inside with Hershel and the girls.” Lori nodded and gave Carol’s arm a gentle squeeze. Rick rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face.

Andrea was stunned. “What do we do?”

Rick shut his eyes for a moment and pulled in a breath. “We get our guns and we look. We hope Daryl can pick up a trail and we hope we aren’t too late.”

You had been sitting contentedly by the fire reading when you decided you wanted some tea. You knew there were still some dried spicebush leaves in your pack from your last foraging trip and you went in to get them. You were crouched beside your pack, digging in the pocket when you heard a metallic sound that was easily identifiable. It was the slide of a pistol being drawn back and released, a bullet moving into the chamber. You froze with your hands in your pack and slowly turned. You could see Shane outside the window netting and his gun was aimed right at you.

“Get up. Slowly. Leave all your shit.”

You gulped and did so, replacing your pack against the wall and abandoning your book on the floor.

“Come over here. Zip the tent up and don’t even think about trying anything because I will kill you right here,” Shane growled, and you believed him. “Let’s go. Now.”

Again, you complied. You glanced desperately toward the main camp, hoping with every part of you that Daryl would be headed back or somehow happen to look over and see what was happening, but you knew you didn’t have any options except to comply. Comply and hope for an opening to save yourself.

Shane’s gun was still trained on you as you stepped around the outside of the tent. He was gritting his teeth in anger as you stared back at him. You were determined to remain calm and in control.

He nudged the barrel of his gun in the direction of the tree line. “Move. Let’s go.”

You felt sick, knowing that once you went into those trees the chance that you would ever come back out was low. But what choice did you have? He had a fucking gun on you and you had nothing.

You made your way toward the woods. Shane pressed the muzzle into your back. “Faster. And don’t even think about making a fucking sound. I will shoot you right here. I don’t even care. At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about you going all psycho-killer. Wouldn’t have to worry about Lori anymore. Or Carl.”

You bit your tongue to stop a retort.

Soon, you were under the dark canopy of trees, cloaked in shade and moving further in with Shane’s gun at your back. He was nervous, on edge, and understandably so, because you knew if Daryl caught him… he’d be dead in an instant. You decided your best course of action was to try to reason with him. You really did believe that he was just fucked up from being in love with a woman he couldn’t have. This was all misplaced blame and aggression. He really wanted to fuck Rick up, but that loyal part of him, that police partner, wouldn’t let him. Some part of him couldn’t bear to do that to Carl and Lori, even while another part of him was desperate to. You were an easy target, the next best thing to blame for his failed attempts to get back into the place he wanted to be, to regain some control, to prove he knew best and was still The Protector. If he had been able to show everyone that you were really a threat and that he and not Rick had taken care of it, he really thought maybe that would win Lori over. But that had all backfired. Now you were just easy to blame for all his problems.

“Shane, I know this isn’t really what you want,” you said quietly.

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he growled back, nudging you sharply with the muzzle of his gun again.

“I don’t want you to have to leave either. I know it isn’t fair,” you continued. “You took care of everyone for a while before Rick showed up.”

“I said shut up!” he spat again through clenched teeth. “Ya know what? Sit the fuck down. Right there, against that tree.” He shoved you hard and you stumbled, barely catching yourself with your hands on the large oak before your face would have collided with it.

You obeyed and sat with your back against the tree, gulping at the dryness in your throat, and turning to stare directly at the gun pointed in your face.

Something about how calm you were being, how steady, was completely freaking Shane the fuck out. He wanted you to snap. He wanted to be able to say that he was right about you and you were a danger to everyone in camp, like you were some unpredictable monster. But you just sat there looking up at him, now completely silent, your eyes flickering between the muzzle of his gun and his face. Shane swore under his breath and paced back in forth in front of you. Your eyes followed his movements. You bided your time, trying to come up with something that would defuse this whole situation.

“How is this going to fix anything?” you asked him. “This is only going to make everything worse.”

He didn’t stop pacing and occasionally shooting a look at you that made your blood run cold. You were starting to think that maybe there was no reasoning with him…

“You can just let me go. I’ll just tell everyone I needed to get out of camp for a bit. You can wander back in like nothing happened,” you said.

He pointed the gun at you again and his lip curled. “There’s no going back from this. No going back from everything that’s already happened. And I know there is something wrong with you. I know it. If I’m not going to be here to keep an eye on you, I need to end this now so you can’t hurt anyone. Because I know you will snap eventually. I saw what you did to those men.” Shane got right into your face, poking you in the shoulder with the muzzle of his gun.

“I was defending myself,” you said quietly, feeling guilty and horrified at yourself even as you tried to justify it to Shane.

“So you say,” he growled, his pistol now aimed at your forehead.

“If I was going to snap like you’re saying, wouldn’t now be a good time?” you said quietly. “Obviously you’re a threat to me. But I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

He scoffed and straightened up again, resuming his pacing. “What—what the hell happened to you, huh? What fucked up thing twisted you to the point where you could do what you did to those men? Do you even remember it? Do you even know how many times you stabbed them?” he pressed. He was trying to agitate you, but it didn’t work.

Your stomach was churning with the foggy memory of being covered in their blood, of seeing their corpses on the ground, but you only stared back at Shane. No way in hell you were divulging what you’d been through to Shane, gunpoint or not.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and you watched as the muscle in his jaw clenched. He charged toward you again. “You know what? I’m done with this,” he growled. He pressed the gun to your forehead, aiming at a downward angle. The metal bit into your skin. You stared up at him briefly, eyes wide but surprisingly calm, and Shane watched in some disbelief as you finally just shut them and seemed to resign yourself to the fact that you were about to die.

That hesitation was all you needed.

You shoved Shane’s arm away and the gun with it and snatched the knife at his hip, ripping it free from its sheath and slashing at him, leaving a good gash on his arm. But a knife wouldn’t be any match for Shane with a gun. He was a firearm instructor and you knew his aim was deadly accurate, so before he could entirely recover from his surprise you ran at him full force and the two of fell to the ground hard. The pistol flew from his hands and landed in the leaf little a few feet away. You began to crawl desperately toward it, trying to put distance between you and Shane as quickly as possible, but you let out a yell as you felt him grab hold of you and pull you back.

The next thing you knew he was over you, trying his hardest to get the knife from your hand. You were slashing at him desperately, catching him on the forearms as you struggled beneath him. You caught him with a particularly strong slash but the next moment he had your hands pinned in his and he wrenched the knife from you. The rush of blood was loud in your ears and now you were on the defensive. You shielded yourself with your arms as best you could and continued to struggle beneath him, but his weight was too much.

Shane suddenly managed to push your arms out of the way and you saw the knife coming toward you as if in slow motion. It was heading straight for the center of your chest. You thrust your left arm out and felt the blade pierce it deeply before ripping clean and lodging in your left shoulder. You let out a scream of pain, but as Shane was now leaning over you, you managed to get your knee up underneath him and thrust it as hard as you could into his groin.

He let out an agonized yell and rolled off you, abandoning the knife that was still lodged deeply in your shoulder. You gritted your teeth and were vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face and the fact that you were trembling. But there was no time to stop. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to live. You clutched at the knife in your shoulder, staring briefly with shock at how deeply it was embedded, but didn’t dare to pull it out. Rolling over and holding yourself up on your lacerated forearms, you fixed your eyes on the gun and made a desperate lunge for it. You felt hands on your legs again, dragging you back.

Back toward the edge of the tree line, Daryl had picked up the trail easily and was frantically tracking. Rick and the others were on his heels, glancing around nervously, straining their eyes in the veiled darkness beneath the canopy and their ears in the closeness of the trees. But it wasn’t long that they had to trail behind the archer because soon a strained yell made it to their ears. Daryl felt his blood run cold.

He paused hardly for a moment before he tore off through the trees in the direction he’d heard your voice echo from. “Y/N!” He wanted you to know he was on his way. He needed you to just hang on. He pushed himself to run through the nausea that had risen when that sound, your pained voice, had met his ears. He tore through the foliage, the sound of pounding boots on the soil loud behind him as the others followed.

“Daryl! Daryl, slow down! We can’t just—” Rick paused as he had to bust through some shrubs. “We can’t just barrel in there!” But it was as if the archer hadn’t heard anything. He just continued running, trying to listen over his own gasping breath and pounding pulse but simultaneously afraid of what he would hear.

Crack.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Daryl skidded to a stop, frozen. His face blanched, almost ashen as Rick caught up and glanced over at him. Sweat was pouring down from their foreheads and running down their necks, soaking the thin cotton of their shirts. A small strangled noise escaped Daryl’s lips as he searched the ground frantically again for the trail, needing to know he was running in the right direction. He spotted it. Direction confirmed, he took off at an even madder pace than before. “Y/N!” There was no answer.

But he couldn’t allow himself to think the worst. He couldn’t. That couldn’t happen to you. After everything you’d already been through… how could he have let this happen? Why had he turned his back on you for even a minute with that prick still around? He felt shaky and weak even as he ran.

The group had just pushed through another thick swath of understory when Daryl saw a bundle ahead, lying motionless on the ground. His breath caught in his throat and his boots rooted into the soil for a moment. But he pushed himself to move forward again.

Behind him he was vaguely aware of a gasp from Andrea and some murmur from Glenn.

As he moved closer, he realized there was a second shape ahead and as his eyes refocused, he saw that it was you. You were leaned up against a big oak tree, propped up against the rough bark, your head lolled toward your chest. Some pained gasp or muted scream, catching mostly in his throat, left his lips before he tore off toward you again. As he fell to his knees beside you, he took in the soaked crimson of your shirt. Your arms were cut up and absolutely covered in blood. Then Daryl’s eyes landed on the hilt of the knife still embedded in your left shoulder. His hands shook as he hesitated before lifting your chin, terrified that your skin would be cold and lifeless. You were bruised and battered, bleeding from a swollen and split lip and a gash near your hairline, but there was some semblance of warmth still in your skin, though you were pale. More miraculously yet, when he gently lifted your chin, you started to stir and Daryl watched in desperation as you struggled to open your eyes, eventually succeeding.

“Hey, hey. S’alright. I’ve got ya. I’ve got ya…” He could hear his own voice shake as he spoke.

You gulped, wanting to clear the taste of iron from your mouth. “I had to,” you managed to croak out. “I had to.”

Daryl knew you were referring to Shane’s lifeless body behind him on the ground. “S’ok. It don’t matter. Don’t talk now, alright? Just rest. I’ve got ya.”

Daryl felt someone behind him and turned to see Glenn just behind him. His face was pale as he took in your condition. “Her shoulder... Oh my God,” Glenn gasped.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Daryl said forcefully. He carefully slid his arm behind your back and another underneath your knees. You were fighting to stay awake. “Daryl…” you murmured. You felt so small in his arms as he lifted you. Daryl was vaguely aware of your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it hard before you fell unconscious again, going limp in his arms. He turned and started heading back to the farm, moving as quickly as he dared with you in his arms, conscious of the knife still wedged cruelly into you. The sight of it protruding from you made him sick with rage. Rick was kneeling beside Shane, his face downturned, as Daryl breezed past. Andrea stood just behind him with a hand pressed over her mouth, watching as Daryl carried your bloodied body past her.

As Daryl’s broad shoulders disappeared, Glenn bent and retrieved the pistol lying on the leaf litter among streaks of your blood. It felt like a lead weight in his palm.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl sat slumped in a chair beside your prone form laid out on the bed, covered over in the blankets. He was leaned over forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles shone white.

After days of agonizing waiting, there was a soft noise from you and his eyes shot up urgently to see you stirring a little on the pillow. He rocketed to his feet so fast that the chair he’d been in clattered backward loudly to the floor. “Doc!” he yelled out. Hershel rushed in a moment later.

You dragged your eyelids open with a great amount of effort and the first thing you saw were Daryl’s piercing blue eyes looking down at you with immense concern. You moistened your lips with your tongue and cleared your throat, which felt dry and scratchy, preparing to speak. He watched as your expression melted into a veil of confusion. “I’m not… not dead?”

Daryl felt a painful pang in his chest as he watched you spinning with disbelief.

Hershel leaned over you with a kindly and somewhat sad expression on his face. “You most definitely are not. Though you surprised all of us after what you went through,” he said putting a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder.

Your eyes turned back to Daryl’s. “Shane—” His name seemed to strangle and catch in your throat. “I—”

“I know. Ya had to. S’alright,” Daryl drawled, his brow furrowing low over his eyes.

You mouthed wordlessly for a moment, your eyes brimming with tears. “Is he—did he—?”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, his expression full of concern. “He’s gone.”

You felt that you already knew the answer but it still made your stomach churn. You laid more heavily into the pillow and shut your eyes, a pained expression crossing your face. When your eyes finally fluttered open again they were still a little glassy. Daryl wondered at this display of remorse, of regret you had for a man who had clearly taken you into the woods to kill you.

But what Daryl saw next was you clearly struggling against some flashback. You squeezed your eyes shut and your breathing quickened. Beads of sweat broke out on your hairline and your face tensed.

Daryl’s hand shot out to gently grab yours before he even knew what he was doing. “Hey.” He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Y/N. S’alright. You’re safe,” he drawled.

Your eyes opened and you glanced down at your hand in his. Daryl withdrew, suddenly self-conscious. You nodded and seemed to come back to the present.

You reached across yourself to grip your left shoulder, a wave of pain running through you and a grimace tightening your features. You felt thick gauze beneath your fingers. As you moved you became aware that you had many little rows of stitches on your arms and a few gashes wrapped up in bandages as well. Even your hands were cut up from your attempts to defend yourself. You extended your arm in front of yourself and took in the damage done by Shane’s knife.

“I don’t understand,” you said softly. “I thought for sure I was going to die out there.” The way you said it was so matter-of-fact and Daryl felt a rush of anger overwhelm him for a moment. Shane was lucky he was dead when Daryl had gotten there… He’d gotten off easy with a single round to the chest.

Hershel nodded. “You have a lot of strength in you. Rest. Everything is going to be just fine. You’re going to heal up and be back to normal before you know it, though that shoulder may need a little extra TLC.” The doctor took his leave and your eyes found Daryl’s again. He read worry on your face.

“What is it?” he drawled.

You gulped. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m healed up,” you said, now avoiding his eyes.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why the hell would ya do that?”

His tone was forceful again and drew your eyes back to his. “The others—after what happened, I can’t imagine they want me around anymore.”

Daryl sighed heavily and righted his chair again, sinking down in it close at your bedside. “For once yer wrong about somethin’,” he said. “Nobody wants ya to leave. Ya didn’t do anything more than defend yourself, just like ya did with those men before. Anyone can glance at ya for one second and see that.”

You shifted in bed, trying to make your injured shoulder more comfortable, laying your other hand over it absently, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You still looked unsure.

“Y/N, when we found ya you had a damn knife sticking out of your shoulder.” He paused and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck a little anxiously. “I—” his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “I thought we lost ya.”

You peered at him curiously.

He leaned forward. “Listen to me, if anybody even so much as looks at ya like ya shouldn’t be here, they’ll have to deal with me.”

Daryl watched, a little anxiously, as your lips parted softly. “I’m not sure I deserve that from you,” you finally managed quietly. “You’ve already done enough. Daryl, I suspect you saved my life.” You gulped and stared down toward the edge of the blankets. “In more ways than one…”

The archer averted his eyes down toward his boots and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, nervous and wavering between his insecurity and need to reassure you, not allowing himself to really think on what you’d just said. “Hey. Yer a part of this group, even if ya ain’t always felt like it.”

You studied him for a long moment before you spoke again. “So are you,” you said perceptively. His blue eyes shot up to meet yours and you gave him a weak smile. “Can you do me a favor?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “’Course.”

“Can—can you help me take a walk outside? I need some air,” you said quietly.

“Are ya sure yer up for that? Ya had surgery on that shoulder. Ya lost a lot of blood. Ya just woke up after bein’ out of it for three days. I don’t think it’s—” Concern creased his forehead.

You nodded. “I’m sure. You won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’ve at least learned that by now.” You felt a bloom of warmth in your chest as you spoke those words, coupled with the realization of their truth almost at the same time as they left your lips. That burst of heat you felt was reflected in a pink hue in the archer’s face and the tips of his ears.

He looked a little bashful but nodded and acquiesced to your request. “Alright. C’mon,” he said, gently taking your hand, avoiding the injuries carefully, and doing his best to ignore how nervous he felt when his fingers closed around it. He helped you out of bed and steadied you as you got to your feet. You glanced up at him, and your expression was so open and earnest he was frankly shocked by it. Could it really be that you were looking that way at him? His fingers were light under your elbow and his other hand was ghosting behind your back, centimeters away from making contact if needed as you started toward the door. “Ya alright?”

You nodded and gulped at the rush of feelings his hand around yours had brought, trying your hardest to ignore it. All you could do was nod. The two of you emerged onto the porch and Glenn and Maggie stood up immediately from their place nearby in the seating area. Both of them were all smiles to see you on your feet.

“You’re up,” Glenn said, looking at you with a bewildered smile. “This is amazing. It’s so good to see you awake!” His expression was nothing but kindness.

“How are you feelin’?” Maggie asked.

You nodded, glancing back over at Daryl and relaxing some as you saw one corner of his mouth was twitched up. His blue eyes were fixed on your face and he couldn’t look away. Seeing you actually awake and already on your feet was a huge relief after many days of sickening worry. “I feel alright. A little tired,” you admitted. Almost as if one cue you wavered a little on your feet, your knees feeling suddenly weak.

Daryl’s hand landed flush against the small of your back, immediately steadying you. “Easy,” he rumbled. “Ya alright?” You nodded, quite sure your cheeks were pink, and when you glanced back at him and mumbled a small “thanks” you thought maybe his cheeks were pink too. You turned back to Glenn and Maggie and your eyes drifted to all the numerous stitches on your arms. “I’m definitely a little worse for wear. But could have been worse…” you trailed off.

“Definitely,” Glenn said, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re all just so glad you’re okay.”

Just at that moment you heard boots on the stairs and you looked up to see Rick, thumbs slung into his pockets as usual. Your heart rate increased with anxiety and you gulped at the sudden tightness in your throat. You’d killed his best friend. You’d pulled the trigger and killed Shane. “I’m sorry,” you said to the Sheriff.

But Rick was smiling at you with tears in his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “This is my fault,” he said suddenly, a rasp in his voice from emotion and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is my fault and I am so sorry. Daryl told me—and I should have listened. Shane was way more of a threat than I was willing to admit. This should have never happened to you,” he drawled. “And I hope you can forgive me at some point.”

You stared at him for a long moment, blinking in the sun and breathing in the freshness of the outside air. “It’s already forgiven,” you said softly, nodding at him.

Daryl stared at you in awe of how, despite everything you’d been through, you still could extend that forgiveness so easily.

Daryl sensed some shift in you and his brow drew down low over his eyes. “Let’s get ya back to bed. C’mon.”

You allowed him to help you back through the farmhouse and even into bed as you struggled not to put any weight on your left shoulder, wincing as you moved. Daryl watched you settled in and stood a bit awkwardly at your bedside. He nervously ran a hand back through his hair. “Well, I’ll let ya get some sleep,” he drawled, turning to leave.

“Daryl.”

He turned back to glance at you and your expression was a bit hesitant. “Hmm?”

“Would you stay? …please?”

He didn’t need to hear anything else. He planted himself right back down in the chair at the side of the bed and watched as some of the tension on your face eased.

“Thanks,” you said quietly with a sigh. Daryl watched as you closed your eyes and shifted, trying to make your shoulder more comfortable, but a moment later your eyes fluttered open again and met his. “He put the gun to my forehead,” you suddenly said quietly.

Daryl’s stomach plummeted and then swirled with anger. He stared back at you, incredulous with rage easily readable on his face.

“I made my peace with the fact that he was going to pull the trigger.” Your voice was somewhat disconnected, distant. “But then… he hesitated. And I took the chance and I fought.”

Daryl gulped. “Ya made it. Yer alright.”

You nodded and looked at him for a long moment, seemingly on the edge of saying something else, but you finally just sighed and your eyelids, now heavy with exhaustion, closed again. Soon, you were asleep. And Daryl stayed at your bedside and drifted off himself. _ _ _ _ _ _

Some time later You tossed down the game stringer, loaded with squirrels, in front of Daryl. “Ten,” you said, a wide grin spreading across your face. “What’d ya get?”

He looked up at you and affected an unamused expression. “Nine,” he drawled, pointing to his harvest waiting to be cleaned.

“Ha! I win again,” you said, absolutely brimming with joy. “I thought you said you were good at hunting?” you teased him.

He rolled his eyes at you and looked over as you sank down beside him. “Ya beat me by one. Ain’t exactly a landslide, is it?”

“A win is a win,” you announced with satisfaction.

He rolled his eyes again, but his expression quickly turned to concern as he caught you rubbing your shoulder. “Sore?” he asked you, his brow drawing down. “Maybe ya shouldn’t be hunting with that bow again yet.”

Your face softened as you caught his blue eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just a little tired, that’s all. Hershel says I need to build my strength up again.” Daryl’s eyes caught on the scar where the knife had been lodged into your shoulder. It was matched by many smaller ones on your arms, all with the same pink hue due to their newness. He could also see the brand on your arm, 1048, the remnant from your time under The Copperheads. Before, you would wear long sleeves in the height of the Georgian summer just to avoid anyone seeing that mark. Now there were a lot more scars added to it, but you didn’t seem to care. It was like you finally had a weight lifted off your shoulders and you felt free for the first time in a long time, unencumbered by your past.

“We should get ya a crossbow, like mine. Then ya wouldn’t have to hold the draw with that shoulder.”

“I like my old-fashioned recurve bow,” you said, pulling it over onto your lap and looking down at it fondly. “Especially because I can still beat you with it,” you smiled at him.

Daryl seemed suddenly fidgety and you picked up on it immediately. His eyes turned down and his expression was suddenly serious.

“What? What is it?”

He shrugged, still seemingly avoiding your eyes. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Always.”

He flicked his thumb along the sharp edge of his knife. “How—with everything that ya’ve been through, how come ya ain’t just angry? I’m angry just thinkin’ about it. And it didn’t even happen to me.”

“Mmm,” hummed thoughtfully. Your eyes turned out across the verdant pasture, toward the trees you’d spent the day under. “I am angry sometimes. But,” you shrugged, your right hand shielding over the scar on your left shoulder absently, “being angry doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix it. It all still happened.”

Your eyes grew a bit far-off, a bit distant. Daryl took several forced, deep inhales and gathered his courage before reaching over and taking your hand in his, pulling it away from your shoulder.

You looked over at him in surprise. Your hand felt small between his. Your gaze was questioning. Daryl’s heart was pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything else. He gulped, trying to clear his throat so he could talk. “‘M gonna make sure nothin’ else bad happens to ya. As best I can,” he murmured.

You nodded almost imperceptibly, your eyes still a little wide from the unexpected action of him taking your hand in his. “Only if I can do the same thing for you.”

You saw him gulp nervously before he nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Yeh, I think—I think that’d be alright,” he said.

You gave him a half-smile that he found incredibly endearing and his nerves finally got the better of him and he released your hand, clearing his throat and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh, just gonna go grab some more firewood,” he drawled, standing up abruptly and internally cursing at himself as he left you sitting alone by the fire. Fuckin’ coward. Despite all his attempts at denial, Daryl had realized over the last couple weeks that he couldn’t ignore how he felt about you anymore, but now he was stranded in this place between where he was and where he wanted to be with no idea how to bridge the gap. He wandered back with an armload of firewood, internally frustrated and kicking himself, but his frustration vanished almost immediately when he had dumped it next to the fire circle and glanced at you again. You were looking at him with that open expression, this time with a little inquisitive lift in one of your eyebrows.

“Hmm?” he hummed, pulling his bottom lip back in between his teeth and worrying it anxiously.

You tilted your head toward the place he’d previously been sitting and he gulped as he sat down, still feeling your eyes steady on him. He thought that now you looked a little nervous. “Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

The archer nodded, nervous flutters flitting to life in his stomach.

“Umm… is it just me, or have you slept like shit, too, since I moved out of your tent?”

Once you were no longer staying in the house healing up, Daryl had moved your things out of his tent for you since there was no longer any need to worry about Shane. It wasn’t that you had asked him to, or that he’d even wanted to, it just seemed like he should…Afterwards, you’d actually moved your whole campsite closer to his, directly next to it, but you still found yourself tossing and turning on your cot, unable to fall asleep or stay asleep.

Daryl stared back at you for a moment in disbelief. He’d slept like garbage since you’d moved back, and he hadn’t even had the heart to fill the cleared space you’d once occupied with the stuff he previously had kept there. Now the emptiness loomed, drawing his eyes, the physical manifestation of how he felt something was just missing. When you slept on your cot across from him, he’d wake up in the middle of the night and look over at the shadow of your sleeping form. He always felt some swell of relief and maybe something else he couldn’t quite identify… Something about listening to your calm breathing always relaxed him and he found himself able to shut his eyes and drift off again. Maybe he’d gotten used to it. Maybe he shouldn’t have. But since you’d left, he’d been restless and anxious at night, wishing the material of his tent and yours would vanish so he could check on you.

Your nerves were growing with each moment of silence as you anxiously watched him, waiting for him to say something. “No, I—“ he had to clear his throat, nerves making his voice come out strangely strangled, “I’ve—” he let out a scoff of a laugh, almost incredulous he was about to say it to you, “I’ve slept like shit since ya left.”

“…really?”

He nodded, finally meeting your eyes again. “Mhm. Can’t fall asleep, can’t stay asleep, just feels like I lay there all the time w—”

You grabbed him by his lapel and pulled him toward you, pressing your lips softly to his, your eyes shut tightly, overwhelmed with nerves even while you melted into him. Your fingers cupped his face gently, like he was something fragile and Daryl was reeling.

By the time he reached back for you and got over his surprise you were already withdrawing and he blinked, bewildered, as he took in the wide-eyed expression on your face and your partially parted lips.

“Uhh—was that—okay?” you breathed, anxiety ratcheting up with each passing moment of uncertainty.

“Ya,” he drawled. It spilled from him like warm molasses. He watched as your face broke into a relieved smile and your cheeks burned pink.

“Good,” you murmured, unable to look at him any longer.

“Only I—I wasn’t ready,” he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his again. He gulped nervously and reached out to move a strand of hair out of your eyes before clasping your face. His blue eyes were flickering between yours and then down to your lips. You could tell he was nervous and it brought a small smile to your face. Your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned toward him, only having to wait a second before you felt his lips crashing against yours.

This time the kiss was heated and urgent and he pulled you into him gently with his hand at the nape of your neck. You happily leaned in, smiling against his lips, your hand pressing flush to his strong chest and the other landing lightly on his side, driving him crazy. Daryl’s hand smoothed over your shoulder and down your bare arm, electricity rising in its wake.

When you broke apart this time, you were both all stunned smiles again, though now you couldn’t look away from each other.

“So, uhh—ya wanna stay with me tonight? Sounds like we both need some real sleep, ya know, and I dunno…” Daryl wasn’t used to asking for what he wanted so blatantly, or making himself vulnerable, but somehow you brought it out of him and he was willing to jump off that ledge if it meant he got to kiss you and touch you and hold you all night… things he had thought about plenty when he was lying on his cot, unable to sleep, but never saw as a reality.

You nodded, that same smile you always gave him glowing on your face. He was constantly amazed by the light you exuded; despite everything you’d been through… everything you’d shared with him.

He needed that. He needed the light. He needed you. You gave him hope.

That night you settled in against him, nervous but melting into the safeness of his arms around you. Daryl worried he was too overwhelmed to sleep, but moment by moment he realized how natural having you against him felt, how safe, how perfect, and before either of you spoke another word you both drifted off in blissful silence.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Special Order

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, breeding and mentions of forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee Bodecker + “Why are you crying?” + breeding/forced pregnancy + y/n is a waitress and the sheriff is obsessed with her, and what better way to make her his 4ever than put some babies on her.

“He’s here again,” Mandy said as you loaded up your tray.

You didn’t need to ask who, you heard his gruff response as he came in and was seated in his usual booth. He was always alone but insisted on a whole family-sized table to himself. You sighed and gave Mandy a look.

“I’ll just get this taken care of then see to him,” you promised as you turned carefully.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t dealin’ with him no more and he won’t deal with no one but you,” she whined and put a ticket in the window.

“Yeah, I know,” you made yourself smile, “stubborn man that one.”

“I ain’t know why he prefers you,” Selma said as she loaded the coffee machine, “probably ‘cause none of us got the patience for that.”

“Patience,” you scoffed, “not what I would call it.”

You swept over to the family of five and set out the plates one at a time. You finished up at the table and replaced your tray on the stack. You looked at the sheriff and he stared back expectantly. He did that, just watched until you came over.

You went over with a sickly sweet smile and took out your notepad. You tapped your stubby pencil on the paper.

“And what are we gettin’ today, sheriff?” you asked in your sugary tone.

“Ah, now don’t be usin’ that voice with me, honey,” Sheriff Bodecker said as he fiddled with the menu.

“You need to start treatin’ the other girls nice,” you retorted.

“I don’t like the other girls,” he read his menu and frowned, “I never tried the… onion dip.”

“Uh huh,” you said unimpressed, “well, I’ll just warn you, sheriff, I can’t and I won’t stop Mandy from spitting in between the bread.”

He frowned at you and put the menu down. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I’m tryna be rude, honey--”

“What did I tell you about callin’ me that? I’ll overlook it once or twice but I’m not one to put up with your gull, you know that,” you lowered your brows at him.

“I’m not tryna be rude, miss,” he corrected himself, “I’m only… I only prefer you is all.”

“Sure, sure, is it my sunny smile or my breezy demeanour,” you teased, “the onion dip then?”

“Club sandwich, extra bacon… miss,” he folded up the menu, “please and thank you.”

“I’ll have Mandy bring it right over,” you said, “now you don’t make me come back, I got other customers.”

👮

When the diner closed, you took your usual route home. Your tips were tucked deep in your old purse and your scuffed soles padded on the pavement, then the dirt path that trailed off to the old country house. You lived with your ma on her father’s ancient farm, your pops long dead.

As you turned up the hill that led to the long drive, a flash of lights stopped you in your tracks. You looked up at the distant house, a single window lit by the old oil lamp your ma still used. You sighed and turned to face the cruiser parked in the shadows of the beech tree.

You recognized the silhouette as he stood straight behind the driver’s door. The sheriff fixed his hat as he came around and looked you over in the early twilight. He didn’t spend much time in town, often riding around the county and only stopping by to sit down at Sal’s and terrorise the waitresses.

“Sheriff,” you greeted, “whatcha doin’ around here?”

“Whatcha think?” Bodecker asked as he leaned against the hood, his large stomach sticking out from his open leather jacket.

“My ma’s waiting on me, I brought her leftovers from the diner,” you waved the paper bag.

“They already cold,” he lit a smoke and flicked it, “I wanna see ya.”

“Now, sheriff, we had our time--”

“I always thought I tip you well considerin’ the mouth on ya,” he took a long draw on the cigarette, “ain’t you?”

“Of course, sheriff, but I’m not on the clock right now and ma be expectin’ me,” you said.

He took another drag and threw the half-smoked stick away. He stood straight and reached to his holster. He unsnapped the small strap but made no move to free the pistol. You took a step back, terrified, and swallowed.

“Sheriff,” you said cautiously.

“Honey, please, you know I don’t be wantin’ to hurt you now,” he ran his thumb along the butt of the gun, “so you come put down those scraps and let me get a good look.”

You stared at his hand on his pistol. You took a deep breath and stepped closer. You set paper bag on the hood of his car and he slid your purse from your other arm. He tossed it beside the leftovers and trailed his fingers down your arm.

“I always thought that was a nice colour on ya,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against him, your ankles twisted and you collided with his round stomach.

“Thank you,” you looked past him as you smelled the bacon still on his breath.

“Look real nice, honey,” he undid the top button of your dress and you flinched, biting down as you stared at the beech bark. He groped your chest and you closed your eyes. When you opened them, they were wet. “Why are you crying?”

“Can I go now?” your voice wobbled despite your effort to hide your distress.

“We ain’t even started, honey,” he undid another button, and another, and exposed your cleavage above your brassiere “Look at you.”

“Please, sheriff, I want to go home,” you caught his hand and he grabbed your jaw. You choked on your fear as he turned you and pushed you against the bumper.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” he snarled, “you put your hand down my pants and make me let you go.”

You shook your head in disgust. You looked him in the face, all the light drained from his eyes as his jowls lined with malice. He squeezed your jaw and you cried out in pain. You reached to his belt blindly and fumbled to undo the buckle. You felt how hard he was through his pants as you pushed down his fly.

“You’re hurtin’ me,” you whispered as you pushed beneath his briefs.

“I could do a lot worse,” he threatened, “ah that’s it, honey.”

You wrapped your fingers around his dick. He was thick and hard against your palm. You stroked him and he shuddered as he leaned against you. His hand slipped down to play with your chest again. He had you pinned to the car as you kept your wrist moving in the confines of his pants.

He groaned and trembled as he urged you faster and you obeyed, turning your head to look at the farmhouse just up the rise. He grabbed your face again and leaned in. His hot breath grazed your lips and he pressed his mouth to your cheek.

He edged you back onto the car and stepped between your knees. Your skirt rode up as he forced your legs wide around him. You pushed on his chest with your free hand and he flung you onto your back with a vicious shove.

You sprawled across the hood, your bags falling to the ground as he grabbed your hips. He ripped your hand from inside his pants and rolled his briefs under his dick. You kicked out as he reached under your skirt and wrestled off your underwear. You cried out as he ripped them free of one ankle.

“No, please, don’t do this. Sheriff, please--”

“You can keep callin’ me sheriff,” he purred as he bent over you again and searched for your entrance with his fingers.

“How long’s it been?” he asked as he caught his tip and poked it along your hole, “Two years, you think I’ll wait forever.”

“I don’t-- Get off of me,” you sank your nails into his leather jacket desperately, “get--”

You gulped as he sank into you all at once. It hurt and sent a pang up your spine. Your wet eyes began to leak as you realised you couldn’t stop him. He thrust and sent another agonizing bolt through you.

“Two years, honey, you think we got time left?” he rutted between ragged pants, “‘bout time you get a baby on ya.”

“Wha-- oh, please--” you gasped as he kept you pinned to the cold hood of the car.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya,” he rasped, “you ain’t gotta keep pourin’ coffee.”

“Stop,” you whispered and closed your eyes, “please..”

Your pleas fizzled and you let him get on, praying it would end. He fucked you harder with each thrust, fueled by your pathetic cries and the sound of him inside of you. He cradled your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath singed your skin as he spasmed and spilled inside of you.

When he stopped, you couldn’t move. He pulled out of you with a grunt and his cum dripped from your cunt. You nearly slipped down the hood and barely got your feet under you before you could crumple. You rubbed your fingers through the sticky cum on your thigh and refused to look at him.

“Look at the mess you made of me, honey,” he purred, “the mess I made of you.”

You wiped his cum on your skirt, revolted by the cooling slickness. You pulled your dress straight and left your underwear in the dirt. You glanced at him but he didn’t make a move, only watched you with delight as his hands rested on his open belt.

Numb and unsure, you turned and grabbed up your purse and grease-stained paper bag from the ground. He chuckled and you heard his belt clink. You stumbled through the dirt as he let you go.

“I be seein’ you tomorrow,” he called after you, “I’ll make sure to take a long lunch.”

👮👮👮

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#dark lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #The Devil All The Time #request #drabble #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #dark drabble

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Iron Lake

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

Warnings: Wound Descriptions, Blood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will hunt.” It rasped.

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

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

“Thank…you.” It hissed, “I am… Qene.”

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

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

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

Qene huffed and collapsed again in his hay bedding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much?” You asked, sceptically.

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re after your feathers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something better?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#forest god x reader #god x reader #bird creature x reader #fae x reader #monster x reader #monster bf x reader #monster bf #monster boyfriend #qene x reader #gender neutral reader #monster reader insert #bird man #bird creature #valley god x reader #valley god

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attllhak · 3 years

Text

@tortilla-of-courage I flipped one of my Fancy coins and got heads, so here’s the one about Wild! (And Twilight and Time and Malon.)

This is also the first fic I wrote, so there’s also a lot of worldbuilding details here too. Regardless, enjoy!

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Twilight really shouldn’t be surprised by things like this anymore.

He had managed to befriend a trench mer about a year ago, and after all the drama that came from that he really should be used to weird shit just, happening to him.

But, here he was, surprised.

In his defence, usually he didn’t run into other mer when out swimming.

His family’s farm was along the coastline, and there weren’t any pods native to the area (outside of the trench mer that lived in the trench a few miles out to open sea), so the only mer that Twilight had ever run into were friends of his father’s who’d come to visit.

This was not a friend of his father’s.

The most obvious detail that this was something new was that all of Time’s friends were deep sea merfolk, and this individual was very much a tropical mer.

Well, maybe a mer. Twilight had never been good at telling the difference between merrow and mer, and that was made harder by the fact that he’d never seen a tropical mer before. This person could be mer or merrow and Twilight would never have been able to tell.

The second detail that said this was a new circumstance was all the blood.

That was actually what drew Twilight over. Large amounts of blood drew sharks, and though they were mostly kept away from the shores by the local zora, it was still better to avoid large blood pools in the water regardless.

Upon approaching, Twilight had noticed that the blood was fresh, and was coming from a merfolk that was definitely new to the area.

This tropical mer had been horribly injured, the entire left side of their body leaking blood into the water around them. Long, tangled blonde hair floated around their head, and their pale blue fins were tattered and damaged, and a few on their left side were just gone altogether.

Twilight initially thought they were dead until he got a bit closer, and their eyes moved to look at him.

Twilight had jerked back in surprise, eyes wide as he took in the expression on the mystery mer’s face, which had gone from defeated to hopeful.

Twilight had to fight to remember to breathe with his gills and not his throat for a moment.

He swallowed, and slowly tried to remember how to speak with his skin.

‘Who, what, why,’ he floundered for a bit. ‘Who are you?’

The mystery mer just watched him lazily, as though they didn’t have the strength to do anything more.

After a long, long moment, and what seemed like quite a bit of effort and pain, they managed to flash ‘help’ at him.

Twilight didn’t even hesitate, moving as quickly as he could without tripping over his fins to the mystery mer’s side, gently scooping them into his arms. Once he had a decent grip on them, he looked around to orient himself, and then took off towards the shoreline where he knew his parents would be.

He didn’t know if the mystery mer had issues with humans, but he couldn’t think of any other way to help them. The trench mer really couldn’t be trusted with delicate matters like this, as much as he loved Midna, so his parents were the only option he had.

He just hoped it wouldn’t make things worse by accident.

His head broke the surface not far from the shore line, where Time was sitting in his human form with Malon.

“Dad!” He shouted, struggling a bit more to keep his passenger steady as the water became more and more shallow. “Dad!”

Time looked up, noticed Twilight trailing blood, and was on his feet immediately.

He met Twilight halfway, which is when he noticed the mystery mer.

“Twilight, what,”

“I found them a ways out,” Twilight gasped out, letting Time help him carry them further onto shore. “They’re really badly hurt, and I couldn’t just leave them, so,”

“Malon!” Time shouted. “Red potions! Hurry!”

Malon nodded and ran up to the house as quickly as she could.

Time and Twilight hauled the mystery mer up onto the shoreline, though still in the water, and Twilight crawled up to the skirt that he and Time both had to pin around their hips to shift back to his human form, since clothes and mer don’t usually mix.

Twilight hurried back over as quickly as he could, stilling pinning fabric in place as he crouched down.

Fortunately it seemed like breathing straight air seemed less painful for the mystery mer, who had taken to clinging to Time’s shirt with his good hand.

Time carefully brushed back their hair, exposing the injuries on their head. Time frowned deeply.

“Can we help them?” Twilight asked, ringing his hands with worry.

“We can,” Time confirmed, and Twilight let out a full body sigh. “He’ll end up with some serious scarring, but he’ll live. What I’m more concerned about is the nature of these injuries,”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, frowning as he looked over the injuries himself.

Malon came back, three bottles of red potion in her arms as she dropped to her knees next to Time. She handed him one of the bottles.

Time nodded, mouthing ‘thank you’ to her, and opened the bottle. “Twilight, support his head,”

Twilight reached out, lifting up the mystery mer’s head so that Time could tip the bottle back and they could drink without choking.

“Dad, what did you mean about the injuries?” Twilight tried asking again once the bottle was empty and they were waiting the few seconds needed to see how well the potion worked so they could gage how many they would need.

Time frowned, but eventually pointed to the parts of the mystery mer’s tail where the fins were missing. “Here, the injuries imply his fins were sawed off by netting,”

“Netting?” Twilight asked, not really following. He knew he was rather sheltered for merfolk, since he grew up on land, but he couldn’t think why someone could end up missing fins from netting.

Time nodded gravely. “Poachers use a specific kind of netting that can cause serious injuries if you struggle too much,”

“Poachers?” Twilight echoed. He wasn’t so naive that he didn’t know people tried to poach merfolk, but poachers never got near zora controlled waters, which was where he’d found the mystery mer. “What are poachers doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Time said, popping open another bottle to offer to the injured mer.

Twilight accepted the other bottle as his mother got up to go and get more.

They spent well over an hour there, crouching in the shallows with this mystery mer as they slowly fed them red potions.

After a long while, Time declared that was enough, and they sat back.

The blood had stopped, but the entire left side of the mer was red and raw still, a collection of marks that would scar pretty badly. But they’d live.

Time sighed, letting the mer cling to his shirt with no small amount of relief.

“He’ll probably need to relearn how to swim with the missing fins, but he’ll be alright,” Time said, and both his wife and son sighed. Time looked up at Twilight. “You did good, bringing him back here. You probably saved his life,”

Twilight smiled. “I was just trying to help,” he shrugged.

“Thank you,”

Everyone froze, and let their eyes fall to the very tired mer in Time’s arms. Their voice croaked and was very quiet, but they all heard it clearly.

They all blinked at each other. Apparently no one expected them to speak a human language.

“Of course,” Twilight said softly, offering one of his hands, which the mer took with their bad hand. “I wasn’t just going to leave you there,”

They nodded, squeezing Twilight’s hand weakly and offering a smile.

“Darling,” Malon asked gently, drawing attention up to her. “Do you mind if we ask your name?”

The mer said nothing, frowning softly.

“Do you have a name?” Twilight tried. Midna had told him that not everyone in the trench had names, and he knew nothing about tropical merfolk. Maybe they had Nameless too.

“I don’t know,” the mer finally said.

“You, don’t know?” Time echoed.

“I don’t remember much,” they admitted, curling in tighter towards Time’s chest. “The last thing I can think of is floating, and then he found me,” they pointed towards Twilight.

Time and Malon shared a look.

“You don’t remember anything?” Malon asked.

They shook their head lightly.

Time and Malon shared another look, and Twilight shifted uncomfortably, bringing his hand up to join the other, just so he had something to do with them. He knew his parents did this often, speaking silently through facial expressions, but he’d never been able to figure out what they were talking about.

“You aren’t going to send me back out to sea, are you?” The mer finally asked, looking more than a bit concerned. “I, I don’t want to go back out there alone,”

“Of course not, dear,” Malon promised them, reaching out to set her hands on the one Twilight had between his own hands. “We wouldn’t do that,”

“We will need to find a way to make sure he doesn’t dry out,” Time pointed out. “We do live on land,”

“We have an extra water trough,” Malon pointed out. “We could pull it inside and fill it up until we think of something better,”

Time hummed. “Would it be big enough?”

Malon frowned at him.

“Right, my mistake,” Time coughed, covering up an amused smile.

The mer finally turned to look at Twilight, marred up face twisted in confusion.

“My mother is human,” Twilight explained carefully. “Dad and I are merrow, but since we can live on land, and mom can’t live in the sea, we live on land. We can and will bring you home, but unless you happen to be merrow then we’ll need to find a container to fill with water for you,”

“I don’t remember if I’m merrow,” the mer said quietly.

“That’s okay,” Twilight smiled. “That’s why we’re talking about options,”

The mer nodded, and curled back into Time.

“Alright,” Time sighed. “Twilight, can you carry him up to the house? I’m going to run ahead with Malon to drag a spare trough into the house to fill up for him,”

“Sure,” Twilight nodded, readjusting how he was crouched to take the mer from his father.

Both his parents stood up and headed back to the ranch, and Twilight watched them go, then turned back to the mer. The mer had wrapped their arms around his neck to hold on, and was looking between the retreating forms of Time and Malon and back to Twilight.

“You don’t have gills,” they said.

Twilight tried to look down at his neck (unsuccessfully), and shrugged. “I do, but they’re closed up right now. I don’t need them in my human form,”

“Oh,” the mer said, then nodded. “That makes sense,”

Twilight stood up, grunting as he shifted how he was holding the mer, and began slowly walking up to the house. Slowly because he didn’t want to trip at all.

Sure enough, Malon and Time had set up a horse trough in the kitchen with a small amount of water in it, towels and other soft materials lining the edge. Twilight knelt down and set the mer in it, being careful to be mindful of the still only mostly healed injuries.

The trough was just a bit too small, the mer’s tail sticking out the one end even fully sitting up.

Twilight and the mer both looked at the arrangement, taking in the cramped conditions.

“Well, this is most certainly a temporary thing,” Time sighed, holding a bucket of water in his hands and frowning at the arrangement. “I’ll call Ruto and see if any of the zora have anything that can help tomorrow,”

“That would be good,” Twilight agreed, voicing the mer’s nod.

(---)

The zora did promise to help with better accommodations, but it would take a while. So the mer spent a week and a half in a repurposed horse trough.

They took the mer back out to the shore every day, and Time and Twilight tried to help him relearn how to swim with his injuries. A zora princess, Mipha, also often attended these lessons after Time had called Ruto and gotten the zora involved. Mipha was a healer, and Ruto had made it very clear that they would be looking into poaching in their waters as that was unacceptable, and wanted to make it up to the poor victim.

This worked well, as the mer took quite a liking to Mipha, and she to him.

Of course, this was also where Twilight and Time learned just how outgoing their new family member was.

Malon called him their ‘wild child’, and after a while ‘Wild’ just became his name.

It fit, if nothing else.

Even on land, Wild continually became more and more vocal and involved in day to day life. He had been very quiet and reserved when they first brought him home, probably a side effect of his memory loss, but as he got more comfortable with them he started coming out of his shell more.

He would sometimes remember random things, and sometimes they would be sad things and others would be happy, but it was never anything big, or that they could use to find his original pod.

Wild didn’t seem to mind that much. He mentioned more than once that he was happy where he was, and was glad Twilight had found him that day in the open water.

The day he called Twilight his brother was the day that Twilight decided he wasn’t going to easily let go of Wild. This was his little brother now and Wild was part of his pod. Time didn’t argue this declaration, just told Twilight to go make sure Wild didn’t hurt himself showing off for Mipha.

Wild did not get hurt showing off for Mipha. Barely.

Wild adapted rather well to the lack of fins, and eventually was swimming just as gracefully as Twilight. Which still wasn’t very graceful, but it was effective enough that he was swimming confidently.

Which is when they spotted the boat.

It was a marine research boat, Wild recognized it but didn’t know why. Marine researchers weren’t allowed in zora controlled waters, it was one of the things they did to crack down on poachers. Hard to pose as marine researchers when marine researchers weren’t allowed in the first place.

‘We should go find Mipha,’ Twilight flashed at Wild, watching the ship warily.

Wild said nothing and didn’t move, just looking at the ship.

‘Wild,’ Twilight grabbed his arm. ‘We should go,’

Wild turned and blinked at him. ‘I know this ship,’

That sent Twilight’s heart up into his throat. He couldn’t stop himself from eying Wild’s scars, a reminder of the poaching that he’d survived.

Twilight swallowed hard, reminding himself that if this was what he was worried about then he’d need to be the one to stay calm, and tightened his grip on Wild’s arm a tiny bit. ‘We need to go,’ he flashed again, trying to press more urgency this time.

Wild shook his head. ‘I know this ship,’ he repeated.

Twilight took a deep breath, glancing up at the ship and seeing people start looking over the side of the ship. That did not calm his nerves. ‘Wild, marine researchers aren’t allowed here. And,’ he trailed off, biting his lip as he struggled and failed to avoid looking at the scars.

Wild caught on and shook his head. ‘I have a good feeling about this ship. I think it’s a good thing,’

Twilight did his best to avoid the worry and panic building in his chest. ‘They still can’t be here. These are zora waters, marine researchers aren’t allowed here. We need to go tell Mipha and Ruto,’

Wild shrugged. ‘Go then, I’ll wait here,’

‘I am not leaving here without you,’ Twilight flashed.

People on the ship were pointing now, and a small boat was being loaded to lower.

Twilight was starting to really worry now, biting his lip and trying not to squeeze Wild’s arm any harder.

‘Wild, please,’

‘You’re really freaking out, aren’t you?’ Wild asked.

Twilight nodded, not bothering to hide it with how the smaller boat had all but hit the water already. They were basically already out of time.

‘Okay,’ Wild offered him, as though he was consoling a small child, which Twilight would be offended by in any other circumstance. ‘Let’s go find Mipha and Ruto and tell them there’s a boat here that shouldn’t be,’

Twilight relaxed just a bit. ‘Thank you,’

They turned to swim off just as the person in the small boat started shouting.

“LINK!”

Twilight startled, not sure how this person knew his real name, as he’d been named after his father and so they both had nicknames. Wild, however, froze.

“LINK!”

Twilight turned to look, seeing a blonde woman with short cut hair leaning over the edge of the small boat, the arm not balancing her switching between waving and cupping her mouth when she yelled.

“LINK!”

‘Wild?’ Twilight asked, shaking his shoulder slightly.

Wild snapped out of whatever daze he was in, twisting in the water to look at the woman.

“ZELDA?!” He shouted back, bubbles erupting from his mouth.

Twilight reared back. Wild never spoke out loud when underwater. Even in the big tank the zora installed for him in their house, he either flashed or surfaced to speak to them.

It didn’t even register that Wild knew the woman’s name until after Wild was already halfway to the surface.

Twilight panicked and followed.

Twilight made it to the surface slower than Wild, and very carefully peeked his eyes above the surface.

Wild had jumped up and had his arms hooked over the side of the boat, and was laughing alongside the woman.

“Oh, and who’s this?” ‘Zelda’ asked, spotting Twilight.

Twilight sunk just a bit further in the water, narrowing his eyes warily.

“Oh! That’s my brother, Twilight!” Wild waved him over, grinning. “Twi! This is Zelda! She’s a friend of mine!”

Twilight cautiously approached, trying to hide how his heart was still ramming in his chest. He poked the rest of his head out of the water.

“Hello Twilight,” Zelda smiled. “I didn’t realize Link had any siblings,”

“Hello,” Twilight said, voice carefully kept even, which was about as polite as he could manage. “You do realize your ship is illegally traveling through zora controlled waters, right?”

Zelda blinked at him, and Wild glowered. Twilight just waited.

“Well, no,” Zelda admitted. “My father had said he’d spoken to the zora here, and that we’d be able to pass through to look for Link. He went missing a while ago, and we’ve been very worried,”

“He was lying,” Twilight informed her bluntly. “If he really had spoken to the zora then he’d know that we’d found him already, and there’s no need to look,”

Both Wild and Zelda blinked at him.

“You’re certain?” Zelda asked.

Twilight lifted an arm to gesture at Wild. “How many merfolk do you know that would match his description?”

Zelda turned to look at Wild, who in turn blinked down at himself.

“You make a very good point,” Zelda conceded.

“You should probably get your boat out of here, before you get into a lot of trouble,” Twilight advised.

“Right, a very good idea. Thank you for warning me,” Zelda smiled, and Twilight could almost believe she was sincere, but he didn’t really want to do so, just in case.

“We won’t tell anyone about it,” Wild offered, and Twilight sent him a half-hearted glare. “So you don’t need to worry about getting in trouble,”

Twilight HAD planned to tell Time and Ruto about it.

“We will need to tell them that someone had lied about speaking to them about getting permission,” Twilight reminded Wild. “That could become a big problem in the future,”

“Oh,” Wild seemed to deflate.

“We don’t need to tell them who was here though,” Twilight offered hesitantly at Wild’s dejected look, not really caring about how worried Zelda was. “We can leave the ship and it’s crew anonymous,”

“Thank you,” Zelda gasped in relief again, smiling.

Twilight shrugged. “I will need your father’s name, though. For the report,”

“Oh, uh, right,” Zelda fumbled, but did provide a name.

“You should come visit!” Wild grinned. “I’d love to introduce you to the rest of the family!”

“The rest of your family?” Zelda asked.

Wild nodded. “Yeah, mom and dad,”

Zelda frowned. “Link, didn’t you tell me your parents had died in a wreck a few years ago?”

Wild blinked. “They did?”

Twilight looked between them. “You didn’t tell her about the amnesia, did you?”

“Amnesia?”

Wild slid off the side of the boat and sunk up to his nose under the water, his hair floating like spider legs around him.

Twilight sighed. “I found him a few weeks ago floating injured in the water here. I brought him home and my parents and I healed him, which is when we learned he had no memories of anything before I found him. We brought him home with us, since we didn’t want to just leave him alone in the sea. The parents he mentioned are my parents, since we adopted him into our pod after a week or so,”

“Oh,” Zelda blinked.

“I’ve been remembering things though!” Wild piped up. “It’s how I recognized you,”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Zelda smiled. “And, I’d love to visit your new family, if they’d let me,”

She and Wild both looked at Twilight.

Twilight shrugged. “Mom is human and Dad and I are merrow, so show up on land without the ship and we’d be happy to let you in. We have been trying to find Wild’s original pod,”

“Wild?” Zelda blinked.

“We didn’t know his name and he didn’t remember,” Twilight explained. “We’ve been calling him Wild,”

“Ah,” Zelda nodded. “That makes sense. Where do you live? We’ll turn the ship around and meet you over land,”

Wild happily provided her their address, and she signalled for her smaller boat to be lifted up, promising to visit over land.

They watched until the ship had fully turned and left, and then headed back home.

Wild swam up to swim in front of Twilight.

‘You won’t get her in trouble, will you?’

‘The only person I plan to get in trouble is her father,’ Twilight explained.

‘Thank you,’ Wild flashed back.

Twilight did get Zelda’s father in a lot of trouble. Ruto had blown up, and Time, despite being dimmer than a true mer, still managed to nearly blind them as he went off.

It ended with Time and Ruto swimming off, publicly and angrily plotting while off on a warpath. Time likely had the same thoughts Twilight had.

They didn’t even have time to explain that they should be expecting company.

So they surfaced, Wild slapping the water while Twilight pulled on his skirt, and then Twilight carried Wild back to the house.

They decided to start by telling Malon that they’d have company before getting to the bit about Zelda’s dad lying.

A few hours later and Time walked in, still dripping and wearing only his skirt from coming out of the water. He was cursing under his breath.

Which is when the knock on the door sounded.

Wild shot up over the top of his tank, excitedly asking if it was Zelda, which confused Time immensely. Malon went to explain, and Twilight opened the door.

Zelda was tucking a bit of hair behind one of her ears, whispering with one of the people with her when the door swung open. The talking stopped when they saw him, not unexpected considering he was a big guy made mostly of muscle before even taking in the claws or second eyelid that came from being merrow.

Three people stood around her, sheikah Twilight guessed, based on the pure white hair and reddish eyes. One of the women had a streak of red dyed in her hair, and the man had a rather absurd haircut. At least the last woman looked mostly normal. Er, at least in that sense that she was only dressed like she was some kind of ninja or something. A gerudo woman stood a few feet back, watching him closely.

Twilight just smiled, not bothering to hide his fangs since he knew Zelda was already aware he was merrow.

“Zelda! You made it! We’ve been pretty excited about you coming over,”

Zelda smiled back. “Twilight! I’m glad we got the right house. It’s a pleasure to see you,” she waved at her companions. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a few more mutual friends of Link and I’s, since we’ve all been really worried about him. This is Impa, Purah and Robbie, and that’s Urbosa back there!”

Urbosa stepped up to the porch, eying Twilight. He got the impression she maybe didn’t know he was merrow.

“So, you’re the one who found and rescued Link,” Urbosa greeted.

Twilight nodded. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he offered his hand.

Urbosa accepted, eying the claws on his hand.

“Twilight?” Malon called, appearing behind him. “Is this the friend you and Wild mentioned?”

Twilight nodded, and stepped aside, inviting them all in.

Malon greeted them happily, waving them into the living room where Wild was mostly out of his tank.

Wild slipped when he went to wave, and Time reached up calmly to catch him. Time hadn’t bothered to change, but was wearing a towel around his shoulders and was no longer dripping.

“Careful,” Time warned. “You don’t want to fall out,” he said it seriously, but there was mirth in his eye.

Wild grinned sheepishly, but without shame, and slipped back into the tank.

Zelda ran right up to the tank, craning her head up to look at Wild, her companions following her.

“Link!”

Time swiveled his head to her, looking confused, and Twilight hid his snort behind his hand. Time eyed him as well.

“Zelda!” Wild grinned. “You came!”

Zelda scoffed. “Of course I came! And, I brought more friends of ours!” She waved at the others, who all echoed their own greetings.

“Twilight,” Time said slowly. “Did you know Wild was having friends over?”

“We tried to tell you when we reported the confused marine research ship,” Twilight explained. “But you and Ruto got so mad that we couldn’t find a spot to jump in, and then you both swam off. So we came home and told Ma,”

Time nodded, eying the group. “And, you’ve learned Wild’s real name?”

“Yes,” Twilight confirmed.

“And his name is Link?”

“Yes,”

Twilight’s grin never wavered, and Time just sighed. Malon burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Impa asked, eying the group.

“Oh, I,” Malon coughed, trying to reign in her laughter enough to speak. “There’s three of you!”

Time sighed, and Twilight’s grin just grew.

“What does that mean?” Zelda asked.

“I’m Link Jr,” Twilight explained, pointing. “Dad is Link Sr,”

A few more voices join Malon’s in laughter.

Time sighed again.

“I’m going to go get dressed,” Time said, walking out of the room, flicking his towel up over his head and pointedly ignoring the rest of them.

Twilight finally broke and snorted.

The conversation went very well actually, and Urbosa relaxed quite a bit once it was explained to her what merrow were. She came from the desert, and so hadn’t ever encountered merrow before, which explained the weird looks she gave Twilight when he opened the door.

Zelda promised to visit more as well, and to bring more of their mutual friends in the future, and agreed to stay for supper when Malon offered.

“Oh, Wild,” she turned on their way out, looking a bit curious and confused. “I have a question,”

“Yeah?” Wild asked, leaning out of his tank and still grinning.

“Why are you in a tank and your brother and father aren’t?”

Wild blinked. “Because they have legs,” he said, like it was obvious.

“Well, yes,” Zelda agreed. “But, so do you,”

“What do you mean?” Wild asked.

“Wild, you do know that you’re merrow, and not mer, don’t you?”

“I’M WHAT?!?!”

#linked universe #lu #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #malon #lu flora #mer au #injury mention #blood mention #behold! mer au fic!#i have one other thing with twi and wild #and one explaining what happened to wars #and i really need to introduce legend hyrule and four #but i'll do that later #for now there is this

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triptuckers · 3 years

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New In Town (part one) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: after fleeing ravka, you hope ketterdam can bring you new opportunities Warnings: mentions of guns, violence, blood, bruises, scars, death oh boy we really are going full in and it's just the first part sjflksdflsj Word count: 2K A/N: new series alert !!!! got this idea a while back and the outline got so long I decided to make it into a series! I think this'll be about seven parts! enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @tomridlessecretvampiredemigod TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here (bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason!)

You liked to live on the edge. Not too much, of course, but you could never say no to a little adrenaline. Your life had always been busy, no time for slowing down.

And how could you slow down, with the skills you have?

All around Ravka, you're known as a highly skilled thief, assassin and spy. Of course, they don't know your true name. You hide your identity and make sure if you're meeting with a client, they never see your face or any other distinctive marks such as scars.

You're always on the move, going from place to place. Going wherever someone was in need your particular skillset. You never questioned their reasons, only did what needed to be done and got your payment. It was part of the job. You get instructions, do the job and don't ask questions.

Over the years, you'd grown rich with knowledge and the secrets of the most powerful men and women of your time. If only they knew how powerful you were, even without your skills. You could bring down a dozen of highly ranked political advisors, generals, counts and more, if you wanted to.

But you never threatened them like that. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. You didn't like to blackmail them. And on top of that, it was bad for business.

Sometimes you weren't very proud of the life you're living. Basically your whole identity is a lie. On some days you think you could forget it all, start a new life somewhere in Novyi Zem or the Ravkan countryside.

You had tried it once. You settled down on a farm. Your new life had lasted a week. Then it was back to business.

Even though no one knows your identity, you're famous among the tales that go around in Ravka. You can't help but to feel pride when you're in a pub and overhear some locals talking about you, having no clue you are sitting right behind them.

You try your best to hide you identity, you have to. Though you are more than capable of handling an ambush, you'd rather not have to run for your life. While your unique skill set is valued, it also made you a target.

Less than a week ago, some men had followed you after a job. You were on your way to the local inn you were staying at, when you noticed someone following you.

You pretended you didn't notice them and kept on walking. Soon after, two more men joined the first one. You could handle them. After all, you had weapons hidden all over your body. And even if they took them, you'd still be able to fight with your body.

As you were walking, making calculations on which escape route you could take, you noticed three more men in the distance. It was a small town, so it was odd for so many of them to linger at this time of night.

The only reason why they would be there, was that they were there for you. You slowly reached a hand to your hip, where two revolvers rest. But before you could even touch them, one of the men had rushed toward you and slammed you against a wall, pinning your hands to the wall next to your body.

But this is what you had trained for. This is what you had been doing all your life.

After a split second, you slammed your knee upward, into the man's stomach. He instantly released go of you as he doubled over. You kicked him again for good measure and finally pulled out your revolver.

So long for staying hidden.

You fired off a shot at the man closest to you and watched as he crumbled to the ground, clutching his chest. You shot the third man, who fell to the floor as well.

Before you could shoot the fourth, he knocked the revolver out of your hand. But you were too quick for him, you pulled out a knife and sunk it deep into his chest.

As you pulled it out of him again, sending blood everywhere, the fifth man approached you. This time, you were too slow. He slammed you into a wall again, your head hitting the stone hard.

You could feel blood slowly leaking down your cheek, and cursed under your breath. Oh, he was going to pay for that. You flung the knife, which you were still holding in your hand, through the air. It hit him in the neck.

You watches as he staggered backwards, eyes shocked as he looked at you. You pulled the knife out of his neck as the life left his eyes.

The sixth man seemed to have changed his mind after witnessing what you had done to his companions. But as he ran away, you sighed and pulled out your revolver. You couldn't leave any witnesses. Muttering a sorry to whichever Saint was listening, you pulled the trigger.

You couldn't stay in Ravka any longer. That incident had been the last in a string of people trying to ambush you. Even though they didn't know any facts about you such as your name or your age, they did know what you looked like.

Staying in Ravka would have been dangerous. You couldn't go to Fjerda, they were searching for you there as well. And you definitely didn't want to go to Shu Han. Novyi Zem seemed like the place people went to if they wanted to settle down. So, Kerch seemed like your best option.

You didn't even stop by the inn to collect your bag, knowing soon people would come to see who had fired a gun in the streets of a small town.

Instead, you went straight for Os Kervo, to get on a ship. Luckily, it wasn't a long journey, and it is still early in the morning when you arrive at the docks.

You walk around, trying to find a ship that is headed for Ketterdam and willing to take you with them, and ignoring the throbbing pain in your head. After trying three captains, the fourth one agrees to take you aboard. But only if you work on your way.

Deciding it is probably the best offer you would get, you accept.

You spend your time at sea scrubbing the floors, cleaning the glasses, fixing things and making sure the crew has enough water to drink. Part of you is a bit disappointed you have to work. You'd only been on a ship once before, and you hoped you could enjoy the sea. But the captain makes sure there are enough chores for you.

The journey takes a couple of days, but eventually you finally make it to Ketterdam, eager to get off the ship and explore the city.

You heard a lot of stories about Ketterdam, mostly hushed conversations in pubs. They were all bad. People claimed the ones that went to Ketterdam only visited the city to have fun. And by have fun they meant drinking, gambling, and visiting the pleasure houses.

But you didn't care about that. You are interested in the gangs. Most of the people who didn't like Ketterdam blamed it on the many gangs that ruled the streets. You knew the city was supposed to be controlled by the Stadwatch, but you also knew how easy it was to bribe someone with money or knowledge.

The more stories you heard about Ketterdam, the more curious you got.

When you get off the ship after thanking the captain, you take a look around you. The docks you arrived on are crawling with people.

Rich people who want to have fun, young kids with dirty faces holding out their hands for money, people waiting for loved ones to get off the ships that are arriving. You're eagerly watching all the kinds of people you pass.

As you're making your way through the crowd, you spot a few people going the opposite way. You watch them closely as they approach the rich tourists, talking about the best places to eat and offering a place to stay.

The tourists seem pleased by all the attention, but you've been taught to look at people a little differently. You see how one of the people talking to the tourists shakes a hand and slips the rich man's watch off of his wrist.

You smile to yourself as you continue walking. Ketterdam seemed like fun to you. It would be ideal for someone like you, with the skills you have and the knowledge you carry with you.

When you're out of the swarm of people on the docks, you pull out your money bag. It wasn't much, but it may be enough for a room. You start walking around the city, looking for a place to sleep that wasn't too expensive.

You try every inn you find, but with the small amount of money you have, you would only be able to rent a room for a couple of nights.

It's getting late when you enter a street with a lot of pubs. Laughter and music pours out into the street through the open doors and windows. You smile as you listen to the sounds of the night, ignoring the ache in your feet and the pain in your head.

You stop at a promising looking pub. As you're about to keep on walking, you notice a sign, telling you they have rooms you can rent. And for a reasonable price. You'd be able to rent a room for at least a couple of weeks.

You step into the pub, ignoring a man who cheerfully invites you to his table. You make for the bar and signal to the bartender.

'I saw you have rooms I can book for a couple of weeks?' you say to him.

He nods at you. 'You're lucky. Only got one left. Right above the entrance. It'll be noisy, but it's good.' he says.

'I'll take it.' you say.

The bartender nods again and reaches for something underneath the bar. Instinctively, you rest a hand on your revolver that's hidden beneath your coat. He doesn't even seem fazed by it. Maybe it's part of being Kerch.

'I'm just reaching for the keys.' he says in a calm voice.

And indeed, when he reaches out his hand, he throws a key on the bar. You let go of your revolver and reach for you money bag instead. You take the keys and hand him the money.

'This should be enough for a couple of weeks.' you say.

'Enjoy your stay.' he says, returning to serving drinks.

You look at the room number, seven. After asking someone for directions, you find the stairs that lead to the rooms.

When you get to the first floor, you see that your room is indeed right above the entrance. You unlock the door and are met by a small room.

There's only room for a bed, a small closet and a tiny desk. The bathroom is not as clean as you hoped it would be, but you'd stayed in worse rooms. And after all, you hadn't expected much from Ketterdam. For now you're just glad you have a place to sleep.

You shrug off your coat and boots, and place all of you weapons on the desk. You step into the small bathroom to wash the dried blood off of your face and comb your hair with your fingers.

After locking the door, you open the window a little. You lay down on the bed and listen to the sounds outside until you fall asleep. You already wondered what Ketterdam could offer you.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#new series incoming !!!!!#kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grishaverse #Kaz Brekker x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #Kaz Brekker fanfics #Kaz Brekker fanfiction #Kaz Brekker fic #Kaz Brekker fics #shadow and bone fics #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fic #new in town

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morbidology · 3 years

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The following morning, a furnace operator noticed that there was some sticky residue and a foul odor coming from one furnace. When it was noticed that Dave’s car was still in the parking lot yet he had not been seen for a number of hours, his co-workers began to search for him. An investigation revealed that the temperature in Plant 6 had dropped significantly at 5AM indicating a foreign object had found it’s way into the furnace and something which appeared to look like bone was found on the lip of the furnace; the authorities were called in. The furnace was shut down and took three days for the molten liquid inside to cool down. When it was searched, they discovered Dave’s car keys. But if Dave’s keys were found when the initial search for him began, then how did they end up in the furnace?

#dave bocks #true crime #mystery #unsolved #cold case #bizarre

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baebaejooheon · 3 years

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Corpse husband x cottagecore! Reader headcanon

Just a cottagecore esque thing where it’s readers birthday and they throw a big meet up/sleepover thing.

Fem reader just bc. Mentions wearing a dress/skirt

A/N: uhhh leave me alone Ik I have a series in the works that I haven’t written for in months. Leave me alone 😎 not edited pls it’s rlly not good , as well as written at 6 am. Based on a maladaptive daydream I had for like a week straight. I could turn this into a real fic if anyone wants it but like ahaha I can barely write once a year 😌🤚🏻 I will probably reread it and fix it later but as of now you get what you get. I literally just typed this on my phone with no sleep so like 🤗🤪

Originally posted by datchidatchi

A little background, Y/N lives in a medium sized cottage esque house. She has a small garden in her back yard, as well as a free roam fluffy brown cow named dellie, and a big chicken coop. As well as a duck that roams the property and a couple of other animals. As well as a huge flower field a little off the premises. (All of this is infact important.)

It’s Your 23rd birthday, and for this big occasion you decided to invite over all your friends, even those who live outside of the country, to your small home in the middle of nowhere. This would be the meetup that would break the internet.

Many people were invited. The typical among us group:Jack, Felix, Rae, Sykunno, Toast, Poki, and even Corpse who was given the option even tho the likelihood was low given the situation.

A few SMP friends you had made through association were also invited: Karl, Alex, Nick etc.

Many people, lots of fun.

The morning of your birthday, You awoke to many messages and posts for your birthday. Lots of bomb selfies on the feed as well as #HAPPYBDAYY/N trending on Twitter. Along with this, you were greeted with a few texts from your non American friends stating that they arrived safely or that they were checking into the hotel rooms they had booked for the weekend.

When the time came for the party, most of the people had managed to show up. The party was in full swing, everyone had a drink in hand, posting pictures, celebrating being together as well as it being your birthday.

Filling the trending tab on Twitter with so many hashtags

Around 10 pm you got a call from corpse and decided to head upstairs to get some peace and quiet from the loud music in your living room.

Answering the phone the conversation wasn’t anything special, corpse wishing you the fourth happy birthday for that day, as well as asking how everything was going. It was a normal conversation, that was, until his breath hitched and his voice started to quiver as he grew quiet, barely mumbling. Asking what was wrong, corpse went on a small tangent about how he wished he was more confident with his looks, how he wished it wasn’t scary showing his closest friends what he looked like etc. and how he wished he could be there at the party with everyone.

“Corpse I’ve told you 100 times. I understand your situation and it’s ok that you couldn’t show up. I don’t hold it against you, but I didn’t want you to feel left out :))”

“What would you say if I said I just pulled up in an Uber and I’m absolutely terrified of what’s gonna happen?”

Sneaking out of the back door as quickly as possible and running to the front lawn preparing herself. Corpse steps out of the car and You just jump in his arms. like full on koala grip on this man.

Holding his face and just showering him with compliments. Lots of reassurance and sweet nothings.

Heading to the back porch in order to allow him to calm down and prepare. The two end up sitting outside in the dark talking for like 30 minutes.

Finally working up the courage to head inside. You hold his hand the whole time and you see his hands start to shake.

Stepping into the living room, Jack noticing corpse was there, smiling but not saying anything after realizing he’s nervous. Meeting eveyone for the first time really being hard on him. No one else knowing what he looks like so no one really has a reaction

“Look who I found”

“Oh Y/N!! We were wondering where you ran off too. Who’s your friend?”

Corpse just hits them with a “uhh, hi 🤗”

Everyone freaking out as soon as they realize who it is and trying to talk to him.

Phones were put away for most of the night in fear of leaking anything.

You going the extra step to check everyone’s camera rolls (with consent of course) just incase and deleting any photo with any form of corpes face.

A group selfie with just corpse’s hand doing a peace sign

Many drunk escapades

Everyone finding a place to crash for the night. Some staying awake on their phones, some heading to hotels, some alresdy passed out for the night.

You check in on corpse before you head to bed, knowing today was a lot for him.

“Surprisingly? One of the best nights I’ve had in awhile :))”

Heading off to bed.

6 am rolls around and ms Y/N is up at the crack of dawn to do morning chores for the small farm.

Cute hobbit esque dress. Brown skirt, off the shoulder white flowy shirt tucked in, white frilly apron, brown corset belt Etc. you know the fit

Walking down the stairs, you see corpse on his phone in the dark sitting at her dining room table. Everyone was still asleep and it seemed like corpse hadn’t even slept a wink. You know, his insomnia and all.

“What are you doing awake? It’s only 6 am and you partied pretty hard last night?”

“Farm life doesn’t stop for a hangover, but I could ask you the same thing mister :) come on you can help me out”

Corpse is 100% not dressed to do anything outside, especially not any farm work.

Tells him to wait on the back porch while she gathers some stuff from the house. coming out with a messenger bag as well as a basket and a blanket.

Sets everything down and continues to feed the animals with corpse, asking him to grab the big bucket of feed. showing him the ropes, filling up everyone’s water dishes. Collecting eggs etc.

Corpse just watching you with a smile on his face. Your just talking to all your animals, yelling at fiesty hens for pecking at your legs and/or talking to Gerald the duck for getting in the way.

Corpse lowkey obsessed with dellie the cow. Pets her and coos for like 5 minutes straight.

When they finish the sun is barely rising everything still looks like a silhouette from far enough away. putting what needs to go inside away, and then grabbing the messenger bag off the porch.

Dragging corpse to the flower field just down the hill at the edge of the property.

Laying out the blanket and sitting just talking for hours.

You plays music from your phone through a small speaker, dancing around and twirling, lost in your own world.

Corpse’s Instagram story is just full of videos and pictures of you in the sunrise, small captions like happy birthweek to the most amazing person Ik. Or damn who knew farm girl had moves.

Literally 30+ story posts at 7 am.

Corpse takes a picture of you making a flower crown. Shadows cast across your skin, the small bit of sunrise light casting a soft golden glow. The field of flowers all around. Literally goddess worthy.

Fans going crazy reposting the pictures, spamming Twitter etc.

His camera roll is FULL of pictures of her.

Giving corpse A flower crown full of an array of wild flowers

Dancing together. Just twirling and laughing.

City boy corpse loving the farm life

Secretly of course

Relaxing and just sitting with eachother as it slowly reaches 10 am.

“Uh, thanks for this morning, I had a lot of fun.” A small sleepy smile on his face. The flower crown crooked on his messy curls as he just stares into your eyes.

You both end up leaning in for a kiss bumping noses as you gently pull away

Definitely the best birthday gift you could have asked for

Heading back inside to see how everyone’s doing.

Rae being one of the few awake asking where the two of you had been seeing it was already around noon

“Those of us awake took it upon ourselves to raid your kitchen sorry not sorry”

Corpse getting sleepy wanting to take a nap seeing as it was noon and he was running on little to no sleep.

You let him rest in your bed as you occupy everyone downstairs

Everyone leaving around 3 pm, corpse is still asleep so you go outside to check on all the animals once again.

Letting Gerald in the house bc he’s being a pain in the ass.

When you come into the house you see corpse coming down the stairs rubbing his eyes and streatching. His shirt twisted and raising slightly, the jewelry and chains he was wearing now gone.

Giving him a good “morning” kiss.

The day is filled with you cooking for him. Making fun of his foil troubles, watching movies, laughing and overall joking.

Spending the rest of the night cuddling together and making the most of the time you had together.

Making things between you official

✨Extra✨

When you post about eachother to tell the fans that the two of you have been dating for like 6 months the captions are wild.

Corpse is like “ugh look at my gorgeous girlfriend, so pretty, so nice and kind, the most amazing person ever” just full on simp. The pictures he uses are from the morning after your birthday.

Your picture is just you guys holding hands. His usual chains and jewelry. Caption just “eww a city boy 🤮, gotta take all the love I can get tho”

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 3 years

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The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER FIVE: Down on the Farm-PART 2

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester (D-MT)

I had come down to Sen. Jon Tester’s Family Farm, a 1,800-acre ranch outside Big Sandy to sign some very important papers. I was only supposed to be there for a few hours. An in and out, but after some alone time fun with Jon. I unknowingly missed my flight back to D. C.. Now I was rescheduling a flight back and trying to find a place to stay for the night.

"You can stay here in the spare room." Jon and his wife offered.

I accepted this generous offer, needing a place to stay! The spare bedroom was exactly that, spare. It had a single bed in the center of the room and nothing more. I wasn't really tired but there wasn't much else to do, so I began undressing for bed, slipping out of my clothes to my underwear. I pulled my shorts off and lay on top of the bed with my legs slightly spread. I ran a hand down my chest and stomach. It felt good. I was so overcome with lust, I grabbed my cock and began jerking it real slow. All while imaging myself fucking Jon's ass. Before long I was spewing a fresh creamy load all over the sheets covering the bed.

I had fallen asleep watching TV when I was awakened by Jon snuggling up behind me. I tried to turn over.

“Hold still until I get it in.” Jon called out, “I want to fuck you again.”

"Sharla is asleep already. She took a sleep aid and she won't wake up till morning." Jon said as he put more pressure on his cock and sent it deep into my hole.

"Oh shit! Give it to me!" I cried out as Jon immediately started fucking me hard and fast.

I reached around and grabbed his head and pulled it toward mine as I turned it to the side. We kissed each other, sliding our tongues together as his cock worked its way in and out of my ass. He began to move left and right with is dick, opening my asshole. With each twist I moaned of pain and pleasure. He lifted my right leg into the air, holding it in place so he could get better access to my tight ass.

“Damn boy, take my cock! Take it all!” Jon called out as he pushed his dick as far up my asshole as it would go and held it there.

“You like it, Boy? You like my cock up your ass?” Jon asked.

“Yes.” I admitted.

"Damn right you do!" Jon called out as he started pounding my asshole harder with his thick dick.

I began to fuck him back, rocking on my side pushing my hungry hole farther on to his cock. We were both moaning as it felt so good that I didn't want it to end.

Suddenly Jon pulled out leaving me empty. The next thing I knew he flipped me on my back and got between my legs lifting them high in the air. And then in one smooth motion, raised my butt up off the bed, placed his cock at the hole. He wasted no time to get his dick all the way up my ass, feeling my own dick go extra hard as Jon's tip buried itself deep inside. Placing my legs over his shoulders, Jon began to pump his hips slowly making sure to give me the full length of his cock with each stroke.

"Yeah, fuck me Jon. Yeah!!!!!" I called out looking straight into his ruggedly handsome face.

I couldn't say anything else except to moan and enjoy the pleasure. I knew that he was not going to cum, not yet. He wanted to work my ass until I begged him to fuck me harder, faster. I wasn't ready for that quite yet either. I wanted to feel his cock move inside me, making love to me.

"I might fuck you all night. What do you think of that?" He asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sir. Fuck me, senator! I want to be your boy.” I told him.

“You are my boy, my fuck boy!” Jon said as he pulled his dick out of my asshole until only its head remained inside. Then looking straight into my eyes, he rammed his dick back inside as far as it would go.

“Damn if your ass it’s hotter than Sharla’s pussy.” Jon told me as he started pumping his dick in and out of me with powerful strokes that had me bucking and moaning.

By now my ass was wide open and no longer resisted his pushing in and out. The wetness of my love canal was exciting him as he started to gyrate his hips to give me the full effect of his cock rimming me out. Looking up, seeing his large body starting to glisten with sweat and his cheeks flushed made me hot. Jon was almost sobbing with sheer pleasure his dick was giving him and accentuated by me playing with his nipples dangling in front of my face.

Then right in the middle of the brutal fucking, he leaned forward and kissed me again, so I passionately kissed him back. His balls were bouncing against my ass cheeks and his mouth was kissing my mouth. He again began to move left and right with is dick, widening me up for a grand slam, which he managed to build up to. My legs were lifted onto his shoulders as his hands gripped my hips, holding them in place, giving him a tight ass access. Pumping in and out, making his chest muscles pop, and his sweat drip on to me.

Jon was using me as his fuck toy and I fucking loved it!! My cock was rock hard and dripping with pre cum as I reached down to press it against my senator’s big belly. I was like a doll in his big rough hands and rode his cock like I was in the Derby. By now, my load uncontrollably squirted all over the space between us. The sensation seemed endless, it was the most amazing orgasm ever!

Then with the thrusting reaching fever pitch I felt his dick throbbing inside me. His eyes were squeezed shut and I could tell he was holding off with all his might, but finally the tide came.

“Get ready for it!” Jon warned as he slammed into me three quick times.

Then with a grunt, I finally felt his cum shoot through his cock into me as waves of ecstasy swept his body. I held him tight while his body convulsed with his orgasm. And with a final few thrusts he fell on top of me panting with sweat dripping off his forehead. We smiled at each other for a few seconds before our lips connected in a post-coital kiss.

"Jack," He said in a short breath, "I can't thank you enough for doing this with me."

"I'm here to serve senator." I whispered softly to Jon.

Now noticing I was still hard, Jon moved down, grabbed my dick and started sucking the last few drops out of me. I felt myself fixing to cum again when he suddenly took his mouth away from my cock.

“You near cuming?” He asked. When I nodded yes, he said. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to shoot off in my ass.”

Damn if that wasn’t exactly what I wanted. As good as him sucking me had felt, the thoughts of fucking him had been in the back of my mind all the time. Without saying a word, Jon climbed on top of me and kissed me, his big body pushing into me as his tongue explored my mouth. It started off rather slow, but a minute into it, we were both huffing and puffing. The passion returned to both of us as he was rubbing his dick against me as hard as he could. The friction of our dicks rubbing together was fantastic.

Lifting himself up off me, Jon reached behind himself, raised up a little and started playing with my cock. He started running my dick up and down his crack before pushing his butt down on my shaft. Without warning, I reached down and pulled his buns apart and slammed my cock in him really hard making a loud slapping sound as he let out a bear-like groan.

"You really want this ass huh? Well, you can fuck me as hard as you want." He said as he started bouncing his big beautiful body up and down on my cock.

I let him take control, riding my cock, stopping whenever he thought I was getting close to coming so we could kiss some more. After teasing me and prolonging the excitement, I was desperate to cum. So I grabbed him by the hips and started pounding his ass furiously.

By the time I was getting close, this respected three-term democratic senator, father of 2, married for almost 43 years was begging me to fuck him harder. This was the few times where he could truly let go and be himself, to surrender all of himself to the pleasures that he had always sought after. His cock was leaking all over me and I knew from the look on his face that he was getting close himself. I doubled my effort and pounded his butt even harder, knowing exactly where to hit in his bowels.

"Shit, you’re gonna fuck the cum out of me, stud!" Jon cried out loud as he felt the first wave of his climax hit him.

I picked up his pace even more, slamming Jon’s butt even more rapidly. This heightened Jon's pleasure as spurts after spurts of married cum splattered on my chest and stomach. His body convulsed with each spurt as he emptied out his seed onto me, still pumping up and down on my dick. The contraction of his ass on my dick while he went through his orgasm brought my own climax. I shot my small load into him. After the previous day when he had drained the biggest loads, I thought this one felt as good if not better, but I didn't have much left in me.

He smiled at me and said, "I guess I know how to take care of my assistant." Followed by a wink as he climbed off the bed and grabbed his boxer shorts. I watched as he got dressed then slipped out of the bedroom.

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of wonderful coffee, bacon and toast filling the room. So I got up, showered, dressed and wondered into the kitchen to find Mrs. Tester shoveling piles of fluffy scrambled eggs onto three plates, along with wonderfully crisp bacon strips and buttered toast. Jon was sitting at the table drinking coffee. He hadn't noticed me yet as I stood in the doorway admiring that beautiful butt again.

"How was your night? You slept OK?" Mrs. Tester asked bringing me back to reality.

"I slept great. Totally satisfied." I said as Jon smiled with a hint of pride behind her.

#Jon Tester #Down on the Farm-PART 2 #The Senator from Montana #PILF #Tester Fan Fiction #tester fiction #fan fiction #american politician #politician #us senator #montana

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