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torscrawls · 2 years

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Joining the Herd

There's been strange rumors circulating lately about the forest outside town and after a couple of people mysteriously goes missing Danny goes to investigate. He is not ready for what, and who, will greet him.

He listened to the sound that could loosely be described as a song and wished that he only imagined the tug he felt to follow it, just as the animals were doing. Instead, he watched them go with a chill traveling down his spine. For once, not of a ghostly origin. Whatever this was, it was something they had never come across before.

But he hadn't found the people he had come here to save, hadn't even seen the shadow of who could be behind it. What was a little unease in comparison to that?

Words: 2 158

Can be read on AO3!

There was something in the woods behind town.

At first there had been a loose rumor about a child being helped back to town by a strange woman; then there had been talk about hunting parties suddenly missing all the shots, no matter which guns were used or how close to the animals they were; then Danny had overheard a hushed conversation about a man who came back from the forest changed, having lost all the spark in him, a part of his soul.

All of which he had chalked up to simple chance, misfortune, and bad luck. Nothing he could help with. But then a couple of people went into the forest and didn’t come back out.

If there was a new ghost that tried to establish themselves, then Danny would try and dissuade them, convince them to hand the missing people back and that it wasn’t worth it to set up shop here. That this town was protected.

As he flew beneath the branches of the pines it wasn’t long until the sounds from the town had completely died down, leaving only silence, broken now and then by a bird call from high above. He knew that he could be slightly paranoid at times, something Jazz had finally managed to make him admit, but he could have sworn that there was a bird that was following along beside him as he flew deeper into the forest.

Which was… strange, but not alarming. At least the bird seemed to know where it was going, which made him realize that he had absolutely no idea on where to go.

The forest was big and he was the first to admit that he was woefully unfamiliar with everything that had to do with nature and wildlife, too busy wrangling ghosts and the people who hunted them to even begin to entertain the thought of adding wild animals to the list.

He slowed his flight as he looked around himself in the trees; trying to spot a bigger path or anything else he could use to orient himself. He frowned as he found nothing.

Maybe he should have asked around in town first.

Where had the people even gone missing from?

Just as that thought crossed his mind he spotted something moving between the trees.

He screeched to a halt in the air, raised his fists in front of him as he readied for a fight, and peered between the trunks, spotting a… deer.

It looked back at him with wide eyes black as tar, its ears standing up tall and angled in his direction.

Danny let out a low laugh as he relaxed. “I’m glad Sam and Tuck didn’t come with me they would tease me so—”

That was when he saw the other deer next to the first one, just as attentive. And another one behind that. And another. It looked to be a small herd of deer and Danny realized he had never seen this many of them in one place before.

He barely had time to feel surprised before he caught sight of a small group of jackrabbits to his right. A low rustle to his left revealed a gray wolf. Behind it Danny could almost have sworn he could make out the shape of a black bear.

Danny might not be an expert when it came to all things nature, but he had been forced to sit through enough family dinners with uncle Rick and his long-winded stories about his hunting trips to know that this was definitely not normal.

He could feel himself tensing up as he slowly spun in a circle, his eyes wide as he took in the animals suddenly all around him; all of which kept their staring eyes focused right on him.

“Is this a Disney movie?”

Of course none of them answered, not even twitching at the sound of his strained voice. Danny was debating simply leaving and booking it back to town, coming back later with reinforcements, when a sudden call rang out through the forest, drawn out and haunting.

The call hung in the air for far longer than it should; echoing between the trees as it trilled and fluctuated between notes.

Immediately, all the animals around him turned in the direction; ears perked and attentive. And then they all started walking as one, silently making their way through the trees.

But he hadn’t found the people he had come here to save, hadn’t even seen the shadow of who could be behind it. What was a little unease in comparison to that?

Besides, maybe he would be lucky and it would all have a perfectly normal and natural explanation. Danny just wished he was known for his good luck.

He only hesitated for a second longer before he slowly made his way through the trees, moving in the same direction as the animals and praying that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

The haunting melody petered out and left the forest quiet. Too quiet. Danny suddenly realized that even the birds had stopped their singing, but as he looked up at the branches he was able to catch sight of a couple of them, still sitting there, and all of them peering down right at him. Because of course they were.

He tore his gaze away from the branches looming overhead and back down to the moss-covered forest floor, the tall trunks of the pines all around. He couldn’t see any of the animals that had been there a few seconds ago. He cleared his throat and called out a hesitant, “Hello?”

The sound seemed to die out as soon as it left his lips; a stark contrast to the earlier echoing melody that had flowed through the whole forest.

There was no answer, but a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye made him whip his head to the right; only to be greeted by the sight of the empty forest floor filled with nothing but moss and trees.

But as he turned back around there was a woman standing right in front of him. Completely at ease and with an easy smile adorning her young face. As if she’d always been there.

“Whoa!” Danny exclaimed as he flew backwards to put some distance between them, hands back up and sparking with ghostly energy.

She didn’t seem alarmed though as she merely tilted her head and asked in a soft voice, “You’re a strange one, aren’t you?” Her smile broadened, showing off a pair of matching dimples in her cheeks. “A new addition to the flock?”

Danny gaped at her and her old fashioned dress, bare feet, and blond plaited hair, unable to come up with a fitting answer. He settled for shaking his head.

She seemed to take it in stride, smile remaining as she asked, “Are you lost?”

This time Danny found his voice to answer, “No.”

She pursed her lips, eyes glittering as she took a step closer. That’s when he noticed the tail peeking out from under her skirt. “Are you here for the animals, then?”

Once again, Danny shook his head.

“Oh!” She lit up. “So you’re here for me.” It wasn’t a question.

Was he?

“Are you a ghost?” He asked, eyeing her up and down. She didn’t feel like a ghost, but there was something about this whole thing that felt similar to his ghostly encounters. Reality slightly to the left.

For some reason, this question made her laugh. “No, silly, of course not.”

He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the ghost who had been taking the humans. “Then I don’t think I—”

She cut him off with a joyful, “Come on!” as she backed up a couple of steps and waved for him to follow her.

Danny hesitated for a split second before giving in. If she wasn’t a ghost, then maybe she was just a lost human. He cast another look at her tail. Yeah… No. That looked way too real. But then maybe she had some information on what had been going on in the forest lately, whatever she was.

She walked backwards with her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes fixed on Danny. Even so, she effortlessly weaved around trees and branches as she moved.

A sudden thought occurred to him; if she wasn’t a ghost, and wanted him to follow her, then maybe… “Do you need help?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but he had to make sure.

“You’re asking me that?” She asked and the smile was momentarily replaced with genuine surprise, before it returned even wider than before. “That’s very kind of you. It’s usually the other way around.”

Danny frowned as he tried to puzzle out what she meant, but just as he was about to ask her just what she was, she gave another laugh and turned around; giving him a full view of her back.

Danny’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her flawless skin and spotless dress giving way to a dead and decayed hollow covering a majority of her back. Her skin peeled like old bark at the edges and as his eyes fixed on the dark center in a mix of fascination and disgust, he could have sworn it looked exactly like the rotted out inside of a hollow trunk.

Before he made the conscious decision, he had stopped in mid-air and blurted out, “What happened? Are you okay?”

She glanced over her shoulder, her back gaping open and a wide smile still on her face. “Of course I am.”

Danny shrank back, eyes flicking from her back to her face before she turned back around and kept on walking without a care in the world.

Danny swallowed heavily and followed.

After a few minutes in silence he dared break the silence again, bolstering his courage with a reminder as to why he had come here in the first place. “Have you seen any other peo—humans in here?” There was no need to pretend she was anything close to a human by this point. “Do you—do you know what happened to the people who got lost?”

She kept on smiling, her tail swishing behind her as she simply said, “They wanted to stay.”

Once again, Danny froze. “Wh—what? You’re the one who took them?”

“I didn’t take them, silly!” She laughed again, the sound echoing through the forest; echoing in the birdsong from above, the wind in the trees, the distant gurgle of a stream.

This time he didn’t follow her, but stayed put where he was, eyes fixed on the creature he had come to find. “Why did you come here?”

“I’ve always been here.” She turned back around to face him, continuing her walk backwards and weaving around another tree with her tail swishing behind her. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay here as well? You can come with me, you know?”

She finally stopped her walk. Standing a short distance away with her hands behind her back and a smile on her face.

Danny swallowed. “Come with you where?” Was this where she had taken the missing people? Or where they had wanted to stay?

“Does it matter?” She looked up at the branches of the trees towering above them. “You wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

Danny had the sudden realization that he had no idea where they were. He had never been this deep in the forest before.

“I—” He swallowed heavily. “I have to go.”

“Alright.” She seemed to think for a second before the wide smile was back on her face. “You’ve been nice.”

And she said the word nice as a sentence. As a decision.

Before Danny could ask what she meant by that, ask her to tell him where the people who had disappeared were, she gave another laugh and just like that she was gone.

Danny blinked. “No! Come back here! Where did—?!”

He looked behind every tree around him, but couldn’t find even the smallest hint of her, not even a footprint. As he was searching the sound of birdsong slowly started up again around him.

It was like she had never been there at all.

NOTE

She’s based on a Skogsrå (roughly translated as “the mistress of the forest”). I always loved the skogsrå when I grew up! I wanted to be here/was terrified of her in equal measure. I grew up with stories of her luring people deeper into the forest and if you went with her then you were most likely never seen again.

The tales about her vary, but she (or sometimes he) is said to rule over the forest, managing trees and animals alike. If she likes you then she might grant you luck when you’re out hunting or help you home if you’re lost, but if she doesn’t like you then (shocker!) the very opposite will happen.

As most beings in our folklore, she isn’t evil per se. She operates outside human wants and beliefs, she just is. It’s up to you to know how to handle her and outwit her to come out of the encounter in one piece.

The call in the beginning is referencing a kulning, a type of herding call that was used to call down your animals from the mountains after a day of grazing. I can really recommend looking it up, it’s a very nice type of song.

Sorry for this small essay! I just really wanted to write something with inspiration from Nordic folklore. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to know what you think!

#dp #danny phantom #dp fic #danny phantom fanfic #ectoberweek2022 #my writing #i have been wanting to write something inspired by skogsrået for a long time #i hope i made her justice #i have such a love/hate relationship with her

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spookymaesblog · 4 months

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ACOTAR Review

Alright yall, i am 3/5 of the series done and what the fuck. I picked this series for the fucking and its FUCKING me emotionally.

(THIS WILL HAVE SPOILERS)

Basically the first book (a court of thorns and roses) starts out with feyre in the woods hunting. it is snowin like a mf in this forest and she's going on about how she has to catch something something tonight while she is out or her and her family are gonna die within a week. She's apparently in this clearing or some shit and a doe comes into her view and she is like 'oh shit, nice' and starts getting her bow and arrow ready, thinking to herself how she only has three arrows (i understand she is poor but & i dont hunt but wtf girl?? 3?? ok) and two are normal and one is made of ashwood. (some special ass tree that kills fairies idk) as she is getting her arrow ready, she looks up and sees a wolf is also stalking the deer, yikes. she is like 'oh fuck, wtf' and looks around and realizes it just one wolf and is like 'eh i can kill it' (go off queen) but then she sees the size of it and stops like 'HUH' bc the motherfucker has glowing eyes and is HUGE. she goes onto this long ass inter monolog about how the fae/old gods used to rule the world and keep humans aas salves and would treat them like shit and torture them and all this other shit. basically she is like FUCK FAIRIES loud and proud and shoots the fuckin wolf. the wolf doesnt do shit and lets her kill it, she SKINS the damn thing (oh yeah it killed the deer lmao) and puts the deer in its skin???? HELLO?? and carries it home. when she gets home, you meet her two sisters (Nesta and Elain) and her dad (kinda a loser). they are in this small shake excuse of a cottage that is literally barely keeping them alive, around a fire trying to stay warm. nesta (who is a BITCH) is like "what and where the fuck did you get that?" and they kinda go back forth over stupid shit on money and who needs a new cloak or boots (you learn nesta and elain just spend money even though they broke as shit bc their dad made a bad sale and lost all their money) and feyre wants to punch them and asks nesta to cut more wood for the fire and nesta is like "fuck you no" and feyre is like "bitch you are gonna marry a man who farms but you cant cut wood? okay" and nesta storms off to the shared room and shared bed. ( i think they all share the room).

the next day, feyre and her sisters head to the market that is happening instead the town to sell the pelts. at the front of the market they are stopped by a group of weirdo they called 'children of the blessed' and apparently these ppl are 'fairy loving whores' who pray to the fae and old gods and willing sacrifice themselves over to them. one of the girls corners the sisters and tries to talk some shit to them and elain goes useless and just hides behind nesta as she yells at the girl and goes back and forth with her for awhile and shows her the iron bracelet on her wrist (apparently wards off fairies) as this is all happens feyre uses it as an excuse to kinda slip off as it comes to an end and runs off to try and find some to sell the pelts to. she finds a big bitch standing by a fountain and is like 'work' and goes up to her and the lady is like '??? wtf you want?' and feyre is like ''you want some pelts?'' and the lady who turns out to be a fuckin mercenary is like ''who killed them??" and feyre goes "me" and the merc is like '?? this bitch fr rn?' and just stares at her for a lil and basically ends up buying them and guves her away too much money for them talking some shit about how someone did it for her once and now she wants to repay. they SOMEHOW get on the topic of fairies and the merc tells feyre how she has fought and killed one and everything that she knows and how she shouldn't fuck with them and stay away from the wall and all this shit and how she always died and shows her nasty ass leg she has. you know this bitch aint gonna listen.

later that day after they have ate dinner, they are just hanging out and it is snowing some big ass beast comes bustin throuh their dingy ass cottage screamin n howlin "WHO KILLED HIM" over and over and them whole family is like ???!!??!?!?! and finally feyre is like ''who??'' and the beast is like "ANDRAS!! THE WOLF!! and she is like 'damn.................' and the family is all like "no one killed anyone!! we promise!! just leave!!!" and the beast is sniffing around and smells his dead friend in the house and starts losing it and is screaming and feyre's stupid ass goes "what to say..... if someone did kill him......'' and the beast says "LIFE FOR A LIFE" or "you come and live in Prythian for the rest of your life on my land" and feyre is like "just kill me!!!!' and basically her dad convinces her to leave and go and live in with the beast in the fairy realm and she leaves.

she wakes up about two days later after waking up from being knocked out with magic from annoying the fuck outta the beast and is in a room where there is a fairy getting her clothes and she is like ??? and the fairy is like "im alis, im the maid, get dressed" and feyre gets pissy and refuses to wear a dress and puts on random ass clothes and goes downstairs to the dining room in this big ass manor and is meet to see this hot ass big man sitting at the table (his a blonde tho, a shame) with a gold mask on and she is like?? basically he is the beast, his name is Tamlin, another comes in, he is way hotter and a red head with a fox mask and his name is Lucien (who she should of picked) and they talk and she learns shit.

shes super annoying for a couple of chapters (rightrfully so i understand but stfu) and then finally gets okay, she hangs out with tamlin and lucien more and you can tell she is starting to like tamlin. she is wanting to learn more but tamlin is kinda weird and doesnt wanna tell her shit so she goes to lucien. he tells her to trap this ugly ass fairy called a Suriel. she does it and basically fucking DIES but is told "stay with the high lord" and shes like HUH and finds out tamlin is a high lord. she is almost killed bny these ugly ass things called a Naga and tamlin comes and saves her. she learns that the blight is a sickness that is in the lands and thats why they wear the masks.

some time goes by and its spring and there is a festival going on and she is like "okay fun!' and tamlin is like "you cant go" and she is like "? fuck you" and she fucking sneaks out and goers anyway. well her dumb ass goes into this cave area n gets caught by some random ass fairies and then someone saves her and goes "oh there you are, ive been looking for you'' and she looks at him and is like "oh god damn" and thinks "this is the finest mf ive ever seen" and then lucien finds her and is like "YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOTTTTTTTT STUPID BITCH" and brings her inside and tells her what the holiday actually is and how tamlin is giving back his power to the land for spring and then has to FUCK(??) and she needs to be away. she is like ?? and just goes to her room and then SNEAKS OUT AGAINNNNN later and runs into tamlin in the manor and he fucking presses her into a mall and they start making out and bumping and grinding and then bites her?? and then they go to bed.

more time goes and then it is summer or some shit i think and they are more into each other and they are having lunch or some shit and tamlin n lucien are like ??? HIDE bc they sense someone coming and lucien shoves feyres ass against a wall and covers her and puts a glamour on her to protect her and the hot ass mf from the festival night (rhysand) comes in like a jack ass and gives them shit. basically he realizes there is a glamour and is like FUCK YALL and makes it go away and sees feyre and is like "oh i know you" and goes into her mind and looks at tamlin like "why is she thinking about fuckin you??" and tamlin starts begging him not to tell this bitch named amarantha and rhysand makes him and lucien bow down to him and he leaves.

tamlin freaks out and is like "YOU HAVE TO LEAVE" and they FINALLY fuck andsays I LOVE YOU and then he makes feyre leave and go back to the mortal lands (he family thinks she has been helping a wealthy sick aunt, tamlin has been taking care of her family and made them rich again) and lucien was pissed she left. she gets back and nesta is like "wtf i remember everything you better spill bitch" and basically helps her after two weeks to get her back to the spring court after finding out nesta tried to save her.

feyre makes it back and the manor is fucked up from ppl destroying it and stealing everyone away and she finds alis there and alis basically tells her the truth. tamlin was LYING ABOUT EVERYTHINGGGGG. amarantha was a family friend of tamlins dad (dead) and was pissed tamlin wouldnt fuck her so she cursed him that he had to find a human girl with so much hate in her heart for fairies to kill one of his men and to get her to agree to come back and live on his land and fall in love with him in a certain amount of time and the curse thats on EVERYONE IN PRYTHIAN is lifted and thats why they wear they mask and she stoles bits of all the high lords powers.

feyre goes to where they are all at to save tamlin and agrees to do some hunger games ass trails with amarantha once a month on a full moon for 3 months or solve a riddle. jokes on feyre she is fucking ILITERATE. she gets the shit beat out of her and tamlin just watches. we learn that rhysand is amaranthas whore/right hand man and is taking a weird liking to feyre. he is randomly visiting/helping her. her first challenge is to fucking fight this big ass worm and she uses some damn bones and wins. lucien screamed out to help her, rhysand bet on her winning, she fucking broke her arm to the bone sticking out and is dying in her dirty ass vomit cell. rhysand comes and visit and is like 'i can save you but you have to make a deal and come hang out with me two weeks out of them month' and she is like 'fuck you ill die' and he goes to leave and she gets him to agree to one week and they make the deal and he seals it with a tattoo on her arm and heals her.

rhysand keeps basically helping her through out all the trials and the two nexts months she is under the mountain. you are kinda like ?? do we like him?? do we hate him?? its hard to tell. he is making her dress like a whore and getting her drunk every night but not doing anything with her but watching her and bringing her to her cell and helping with chores and shit. her second challenge is a fucking READING one and shes like "well...' and rhysand helps her through the bond of the deal tattoo and she wins.

the third challenge is to kill three fairies with an ashwood dagger, she kills the first two and when she goes for the third, its tamlin. she starts sobbing and freaking out as everyone is laughing ang hootin and hollering but then she remembers alis saying "you know everything already" and how she has over heard multiple times that ppl have said tamlin has a heart of stone so she goes on a limb and stabs the fucker. she is right and wins and the curse is broke and amarantha is pissed tf off and is like "WELL I DIDNT SAY WHEN HAHAHA" and everyone is pissed off and starts a riot and then feyre figures out the riddle and says the answers and amaratha is even more mad and starts beating the shit out of feyre and KILLS her.

tamlin starts sobbing and just holds her not doing SHIT and RHYSAND stabs amarathna and then tamlin starts doing shit and kills amarthana and then goes back to feyre and is like "please!!!!" and all of the high lords come up and give a lil shit light of something on her and we see that feyre is seeing something through another persons eyes and realize it is rhysands and because of the tattoo and then she falls asleep and this bitch WAKES UP!!!! and she is a HIGH FAE!!! the girl won and she was a fairy.

9/10 very good book, love the turns and twist def recommend, is a slow burn tho

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #acomaf #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys acotar #tamlin #lucien vanserra #acotar headcanons #acotar au #sarah j maas

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thinplacesradio · 1 year

Photo

a stretch of road at dusk, trees and greenery around it. two shadows loom into the frame. the image is distorted by VCR static. text reads:

[010] THE ROAD BETWEEN. A CALLER BECOMES A WITNESS. THE HOST UNABANDONS A HOUSE.

listen here, or anywhere. transcript under the cut:

[static, radio tuning]

[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]

[click]

Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I’m your host,

and it is the middle of the night. But don’t worry. You’re not alone.

[Thin Places theme]

[crickets chirping]

I’m coming to you chilly from my studio, which is what i like to call the front porch of this abandoned house. [crow cawing in distance, or perhaps frog croaking] How long abandoned, I can't exactly tell. The yard is overgrown - or maybe just grown, the way it was always supposed to be. Someone’s thrown a rock through the windowpane behind me and shattered it. But the porch swing is still holding. I can hear the chains squeaking, so I don't think it’s that safe for me to be sitting on it right now. But I’m going to trust it to hold, I think. [crow caws] What else is there to do? Everything, if you think it through to its final existential point, is an act of trust.

So what is Thin Places Radio?

Well, you can call in about anything strange that you've got going on in your life - feelings, omens, premonitions, hauntings.

Do you keep thinking about a bird that doesn't really exist anymore? Did you drive past a puddle of blood on the road? Are you sure? Are you stuck somewhere in the past - your own, or someone else’s?

Call in, get it off your chest. When the veil between worlds is thin, we get closer than ever to the strange and the unexplained - but also to each other.

Let's close that gap a little bit more. Lines are open.

[click] [voicemail]

Hi. Um, there’s this stretch of road between my friend’s house and mine that always feels like it belongs somewhere else, in the middle of the night. And, one of my friends and I have driven back and forth on it a bunch of times, and it always feels strange, like we passed a car that was just a normal pickup truck, but when it passed us, we looked at each other and we were like, that was a really menacing car. But one time, we were driving - I was driving, and I thought I saw something in the woods. And I mentioned it to him, I said, did you see that? I think there was a deer in the woods. And he went, no, but, did you see the big puddle of blood on the road? And I said, no. And I don’t know if we saw two sides of one story, or something else. But anyways, I just drove back alone tonight, in my car, and every turn I made felt like it was the wrong turn, and every part of it felt like a place I hadn’t been before, but I still got to the place that I was going. And I’m home now. And just wanted to call. I love you. Goodnight.

[click]

Oh. Th- thank you, listener. I don’t remember the last time someone told me they loved me? [pause] I love you, too. I love all of you, on the other end of the line, even though I can't see you. An act of trust, that you're there at all. It's almost like praying.

You're right that there are two sides to every story - more, even. There are as many sides to a story as there are people to witness it, and then a couple more. If a deer runs through the woods and no one sees it, did it run? Yes. The deer saw. If an accident, or something more purposeful, spills someone's blood into the road and no one sees it, did it happen? Yes, of course. The two of them are co-witnesses. And then, after everything, the road remembers. The earth under the asphalt does, too. [animal croaking] There is always a witness. This is why we have to believe one another, and be honest with each other. [animal croaking] [searching music]

We're all on our own journey, and we can only bring ourselves to it. We're stronger when we travel together. But we are still the only people who can make our own turns. Who can try to find our way back home, in the end. I'm so glad you got there. The road knew where to take you, and so did you, even if you didn't know it. You trusted it to get you where you needed to go. [porch swing creaks] The road provided. But you still have to move the wheel.

The future can be terrifying. Because out of all the things that could happen, only one thing will. [animal croaking, porch swing creaking] The future will exist. But, like the past, it doesn't, right now. The only thing we have at all, really, is this present moment, the dark stretch of road we're on right now, with the next 300 feet lit dimly, if we're lucky. But we don't know what will dart out in front of us. We don't know which turn we thought was right that will lead us to a felled tree, or which lost turn might take us home. But that's all the future. We can't get there yet. We're suspended in the present, preserved in amber. So we might as well make a home here, too.

[click]

Something weird, listeners:

This list i just found. [rustling] Eggs. hummus. Toothpaste. Okay, it’s a shopping list. Great handwriting. New spatula. Lemons. Tarp. Duct tape. Chips. Latex gloves. Rubber gloves. Hacksaw. Pressure cooker (large). Lye (285 gallons).

Y’know. I don’t love this.

[click]

[crickets] [animal croaking]

The empty house behind me is silent, save the sounds of nature that have started creeping in. It remembers what happened here, though. It witnessed it. And so did I, in some small way.

But it's time for me to take my next wrong turn, wherever the road wants to take me. I don't think I'm going home, though. I don't know where I'm going.

[click]

Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do. As always, our number is 717.382.8093. That's 717.382.8093. Until next time. I'll be here.

And, I love you.

[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: ]

Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of your host is Kristen O’Neal. Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by Jessie McNiel.

Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme, by Miles Morkri, and Umeed by RANA.

If you have a story to tell or a question to ask, give us a call at ‪(717) 382-8093‬. The lines are always open.

[Thin Places Theme outro]

#thin places radio #tpr #podcast #episodes #010 #the road between #caller: jessie mcniel #fiction podcast #liminal #advice #by the way i'm not POSITIVE that the animal in the background is a crow vs raven or even frog so if any of you can ID it PLEASE let me know!#ok i love you :3

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bieraser · 1 year

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Noises

My ears twitched in the deafening silence of the house. Like a wild animal they turned on my head, searching through the thick stagnant air for even the slightest whisper of life. The night’s darkness could trick you to think everything lies dormant - but if you listened close enough you’d know that’s not true.

The buzz of a fly’s wings, the rustle of cloth against skin, the gentle swirl of air. My own pounding heartbeat. They could give me away at any moment. The arch in my steps made my legs ache, but I’d learned to move swiftly like this. Trained my ears to hold me to silence. I suppose that’s one perk of being a half-breed.

The door used to be my greatest enemy. Its hinges creaked as it swung, and in the silence they were an alert as piercing as my mother’s scream. But I’d learned, with time, the contours of the sloppily made metal bolts that could be lifted and pulled in a way to crack the door open with hardly a peep. And beyond that, freedom.

It was a full moon tonight. There was a human belief that we were stronger these nights, more dangerous. And I admit I thought I could feel something - the slightest pressure in the air, the hairs on my neck standing on end - but I knew it was only a myth. That didn’t keep the thought from filling my legs with shivers and forcing a smile onto my face as I ran towards the woods. As I drew breath after shaky breath, feeling my heart racing in my chest, a large part of me wished again that I’d just stay home for once and sleep. But I knew the thought would keep me all through the night.

Only once I was in the forest did my breath start to come easier. The nervous glances over my shoulder stopped all on their own. I wove my way between the trees on a path that was practically shaped in my footsteps. The brush thickened; trees growing wider and closer, the leafy canopy closing out the stars above until I came into a small clearing just big enough for me to kneel. The light from the moon broke through the cracks in the branches enough to pattern the floor before me.

With a deep exhale I lowered my hood, hands cupping the rose bud before me. It had been about two months since I’d severed its head; the bud was plump and dense with bits of purple petals peeking through. My leg started to shake. There was so much potential this time. If I was ever going to get it right, this was it. But I still had to be cautious.

“Hey buddy,” I cooed at the inanimate object, talking to myself as I checked the holes in the tree trunks. “How are you today?” I pulled a pair of shears from the third tree I checked and laid them right in front of me. “Are you feeling better?” The rose bud didn’t respond. Nothing ever did.

I ran a hand through my hair and shook out my head to let my ears be free. They stuck out on either side of my head; abnormally long brown wings of cartilage covered in a short layer of fur that invaded either side of my head. It was impossible to tell where the human parts stopped and the deer parts started. The muscles in the sides of my face ached from holding my ears against my head for so long, the ones behind my ears sighing in relief. But even in the forest, under the cover of night, the act of freedom forced one more anxious look around before I could be sure I was safe.

The things I do - things I am - aren't natural. So I do my best to blend in with the humans. I’ll wear hats and hoods to cover my ears, hide them down beneath my hair and almost pass as just a regular woman. Some of the kinder souls in the village will entertain me; they’ll wave their hand and say they never would’ve guessed. But the fleeting glances they steal betray their best intentions. The words they whisper when they think I’m out of earshot will confirm what they were really thinking. No, there is no hiding it. The village already knows about me. They say my kind share a mind with nature through our instincts. They also say we belong with the wild animals.

So instead, I focus on the flower. It grows in the forest, where there’s nothing but trees to witness me fail. If I could just figure out how to commune with it - this one stupid, stubborn little rose - then maybe I could prove them wrong about me.

I tasted blood. I’d been gnawing anxiously at the insides of my cheeks, and one of my teeth reopened a vein. In the thirteen times I’ve tried, this was the juiciest looking bud I’d seen. If it was ever going to work, this was the one.

“Don’t you dare…” I threatened the flower, kneeling before it. I awkwardly touched two fingers to it, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. And then, I waited. And waited. And waited.

I didn’t know what I was looking for. I just concentrated, hoping something would happen. The sound of crickets swelled around me - or maybe that was just my imagination. I kept my eyes squeezed shut and waited. A small gust of wind blew through me, and for a moment I thought that might be it. I dared to hope that maybe the petals had bloomed with a message on them, or I’d summoned bees to spell out words in the grass. Anything. But when I opened my eyes, there was nothing different. If anything, the bud looked worse for having been touched.

A headache crept in between my eyes. I knew I should breathe, try again, give myself more time, but I wanted to scream. I wanted to scream and rip the rose out of the ground, stem and all; but the energy for it sank down into my chest, shying away from my throat and draining into the pit of my stomach. Frustration stung the back of my eyes, but my body could only move to let it out in sharp, jagged breaths.

My hands flattened my ears, the cartilage folding and crushing against my head. I wanted to pull them out. They were a curse; my whole kind is a curse. I couldn’t speak with nature. I was a fool to even try after every other failed attempt I’d had. Maybe I really was just a half-breed.

I sat curled in a ball for what felt like hours. Everything began blending together into the darkness as I shut my eyes and ignored my senses. The crickets chirped around me as the only reminder that time was passing. Even their song seemed to have muddled into a slower version of itself, though that may have been my imagination. Some part of me wondered if I’d sit there long enough to become a tree. Another part yelled that I’d have to talk to them to find out. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

For my own sake I had to leave. I carefully returned the shears to the tree I took them from. The moon hadn’t moved in the sky - not that I needed its light. The path out of the forest had long since been carved into my memory. My ears stayed relaxed in my hood as I moved like a shadow back towards the bundle of dirt roads and wooden shacks I called home. This time I went further, towards the stone barracks that kept the village militia.

There was one other place I could be safe in the dead of night; just one person who would keep their doors open for the village Elkin. I was going to see my boyfriend.

#original writing #blorbos #Shameless self promotion

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magnoliamyrrh · 6 months

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okay. yea. more weird dreams since ive been here tonight

there was more weird shit going on before this i just cant manage to remember but i was in the downstairs part of this house with an opening to a garden on one side and while I know other stuff was happening before i guess in the dream itself i remember being confused as to how long i had been there and like. there was vomit everywhere which had burned the wooden floors yellow and i was like?? what the f happened w me and how long have i been here and then looking around trying to figure out whats up i come across the corpse of this stag, not very big, looks more like a deer with horns than an actual stag. i remember picking it up by the horns, it was light, trying to figure out how this thing got in the house on top of everything and where i might bury it. but instead its guts and insides fall out and i am left holding only its head and the skin of its body attached to it. i remember putting it on, its head as a mask and its skin as a cloak .... theres a loud knocking at the door (?) windows (?). its loud. i turn and a sense of fear hits me. i dont know what it is nor do i plan to open. a big man barges inside, i guess he had a keep. i somehow at the same time find a knife, its specifically a hunting knife, a skinning knife. my hands must be covered in blood, or in dried blood, or something because i have a hard time hanging on to it at first, but i tighten my grip. i remember its weight in my hand. i remember pressing my finger on its blade to see if its sharp enough. the man, hes inside, looking and not looking at me, goes past into a kitcken. im holding the knife and asking him wtf hes doing. he says something about being a maintenance man or some shit but i dont buy it. hes just walked into a run down house that only i have been in in clearly some odd way for probably months and hes acting odd, something he is saying isnt lining up

i don't remember what happens with the man or the house. i remember listening to someone talk, explain how they had noticed odd things happening. i dont remember the other two on the list, but the third, hes talking about how some weird shit was going on in some village, how theres reports that the locals are cannibalizing people or something crazy like that right? but how he cant help but wonder considering everything else if its real. i find myself seeing this village, approaching it like some disembodied form, to find myself in what seems to be a night gathering of sorts, otherwise a seemingly normal looking restaurant picnic sort of ordeal in some apple orchard, lights hung up and everything. i realize im walking around as an actual body in this place, and that its a memory im somehow experiencing again. im walking around these people and tables, it all seems normal except i start to realize there are indeed human body parts in their plates. small ones. they are quite literally eating children, like, all of them, and this is some sort of event for this. the voice of the men coming from nowhere is still explaining all this. i find myself out behind the apple orchard, its daytime now, there is a chair in front of me that a young man is sitting in, the one who was explaining all this. i guess hes some sort of reporter or journalist or something. he quiets down, i think waiting for me to reply. i look around, on the right side of the orchard is a river, reeds, some trees. there is a thick air, humid and heavy and the sort of heat you feel in the air before a big storm arrives. opressive. it looks like the deltă, where the danube splits and becomes marshlands. above in the sky is a thick line of clowds, two lines i realize, like two dark, thick, smooth rivers of clouds in the sky; one side of the clouds are rolling one way, the other river of clouds is rolling the other. i look down, a friend is sitting in the actual river, seemingly just hanging out, though they seem far away, not fully in it. i look over my sholder back right, i realize there are waves coming down this river stream. its rising, weird, unnatural wave after wave its rising quickly. my friend takes no notice of this even as the water reaches their head. they have no reaction to anything i say. the river keeps rising

... i wake up? i cant remember anything else, i wake up.. cant manage to fall back asleep, i look out the window. i realize there is a tree that has been right there since my childhood that in winter, with no leaves - none of them have leaves - looks odd. somehow it's branches have curved to form an almost perfect circle, it looks unnatural frankly. i remember this isnt the first time ive thought the thing was creepy. i remember the other times when i have seen these things was some video of them, explaning native american legens dont exactly hold them in high regards either. anyway, i decide to stop looking at the damn thing and go smoke a cigarette. my mon was at a funeral earlier in the day, i find coliva, a sort of food made for the dead and given out. i eat some, i feel something hard in my teeth, and realize there is a rather large stone in it that i was chewing on. its almost 3 am and everything feels just slightly odd

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ponies-of-constant-blog · 5 years

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“Confound it all! This is the book’s fault isn’t it?” {William M!A: 2/???}

#mlp ask blog #pony ask blog #PoniesofConstant #p-of-c: Maxwell #p-of-c: William #p-of-c: magic anon #Fun fact! the ear movement is called 'the radar sweep'#Its something deer do to listen to everything in front and behind them #His tail going down and fluffing up is a 'tail flair'#and its what deer do to signal others of alarm or danger in the near area #I looked up a lot of deer behavior just for William can you be lie ve

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sashi-ya · 3 years

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kid with female s/o kidnapping + rape (play)-rough sex for kinks deep throating, gags, collars, name calling, humiliation and end of the world au<3

Hi babe! of course!! Thank u for your request and sorry for the waiting! Enjoy! 💖💖

🔥🚫 NSFW ~ Eustass Captain Kid x F! Reader ~ Before It All Ends [Consented Rape PLAY]

tw: CONSENTED rape PLAY. It's just a fantasy reader has and Kid fulfils it for her. End of the world AU. Rough sex. Humiliation. Name calling. Face fucking. Clothes ripping. Slapping. Collars. Gagging. Mentions of Covid-19 pandemic. Fluffy ending.

a/n: Both characters have given their previous consent to the play. Yet, I know it's an extremely controversial and triggering topic, so it's ok if you don't feel comfortable with it, please do not interact. I won't take responsibility if you ignore the TWs. I have plenty of fics that don't include this type of practices for you to read. Thank u 💖~

a/n2: There is a menace the characters call "them". It is not stated in the fic if "them" are zombies, monsters, people, aliens, etc. You can chose -yet I thought about crazy mfs from a "world gov" that rules the world after the starting of the end -. (for the love of God it has nothing to do with the pronoun! It's a way to name "those things")

wc: 1,7K

Dry lips and ragged clothes.

No more water until the rains finally arrive… and even though, you are not still very sure if you are still going to be alive by that time.

The end of the world has come, people shouted. Not really the world, but the end of humanity. Humanity deserved it, though. The Covid pandemic was just the starting point, it was none compared to what came next. And it’s been all humans' fault. But, some of you have thrived to survive, despite everything. You are living your life day by day waiting for death to take you in any moment.

The cold cement under you, ruins of what someone’s house remains, it's your only refuge. That and a pretty collar the love of your life once gave to you. You play with the little heart that hangs from the red leather material of it, watching as some dogs play with some deer, right there, in front of you, in the middle of a street that once was occupied by a sea of cars.

Suddenly someone snatches from behind, a huge hand with red polish on its nails around your neck. You shout and scream, but no one listens. Of course nobody would come, of course they wouldn't…

“Let me go!” you shout. “Shh… stop shouting… or do you want themto hear you?” you freeze and stop shouting. You don’t want more menaces around you right now. He drags you to the little back streets behind your “house”, your knees get scrapped, your old, ragged clothes even more destroyed.

He finally throws you against the debris of an old wall. Your back hit the remaining bricks covered in moss and some plants. “I’ve been watching you closely, you know?” a red-haired man, tall and strong, covered in wounds and scars, tells you while towering you.

Your lips tremble, today’s the day. “Today I’ll leave this shitty world behind” you think, but there is something inside you that’s absolutely not convinced of giving up… and so you decide to stand up and escape.

But you can’t.

He is way faster and stronger, and before you could ever run away he has already put his huge boot over your chest. “Where are you going, little bitch?” he asks, laughing after with a sadistic grin. You pant, you try to gasp for air, but the boot is so damn heavy.

“You aren’t going anywhere. You are less than them, you are just a little hole for me to cum inside”.

He takes off his foot over you, and crunches at your side. The red-haired man grabs you by your collar, pulling you up from it as if you weigh less than a feather. “Who gave you this, bitch? Huh? was your stupid boyfriend? Tell him when he is back you’ve been fucked properly before this world finally explodes”.

You cry, moving your head to the side as he comes closer and closer. His red lipstick ends up smudged all over your cheek and the sides of your mouth as he tries to kiss you. “No” you whine. “Shut the fuck up!” he commands, hitting your back against the ground.

His intrusive tongue opens its way inside your mouth, it’s difficult to breathe as he violently kisses you. Your lips end up irritated from the constant graze of his mouth and his poorly shaved chin. But your lips aren’t the only parts that he kisses, and by pulling your head back from your hair he exposes your neck to his mouth.

He bites, he kisses and marks your flesh, down your neck to your collar bones. “Let me see your tits, bitch” he shouts, laughing like crazy and ripping your shirt in two. Bouncing breasts before his eyes, got him drooling. He spits on your nipples, using her hand to smear it everywhere. Your nipples get hard, you squeeze your eyelids, why is this so arousing? he is forcing you, why are you liking this?...

He bites and pulls from your nipple, making you scream in both pain and pleasure. “Stop shouting, you little whiny whore” he shouts covering your mouth with his huge hands. You only moan and whine under his muzzling motion and as you do, you watch him lower the zipper of his old ragged yellow pants.

“Now you are gonna give that mouth a better use” he states, lifting you up from your hair. You kneel on the ground, feeling as the many rocks get embedded on your knees, at this point you are sure they might be bleeding. “Open” he commands, but you keep your lips sealed. He shakes your head, violently. “OPEN” he says while sticking his fingers inside your mouth.

Your saliva drips from the side and wets his fingers as he uses his other hand to guide his dick into your mouth. Throbbing member menacing to go deep inside your mouth, you swear your jaw would probably get dislocated by the size of his dick.

He slaps your cheek with his shaft, salty pre cum strings forming from the tip of it. He is so aroused, so horny, so excited to fuck your mouth… and he does. Deep inside it goes, pumping, hitting your throat, making you gag. The last traces of the mascara you decided to wear that afternoon, even during the apocalypse, stain the tears that form on the corner of your eyes.

You gag, you even get a little nauseous by such violent assault. “Good girl, taking it all inside! That’s a good little bitch” he encourages to keep getting deepthroated by him as he slaps one of your breasts. And he keeps pouncing on you, one thrust, two… three… “Are you thirsty, little bitch?” you look at him, already understanding what he meant by that. Your victimized sight gets him on edge, and as he licks his lips, he moves your head back and forth pulling from your hair.

“Drink it all, slut”

The sticky warm product of his orgasm travels down your throat as he releases himself. Thirsty or not, you have been fed by his juices and even if you thought this was enough, oh no, it wasn’t… not at all.

He pushes you back, cleaning the remains of his cum from the commissure of your lips. “Good girl” he says, as makes you lick his index finger. “Let me see if you are ready for me” he utters, while ripping your shorts off. “No… my last pair…” you cry. The red-haired man laughs at your disgrace and once again throws you against the ground.

“Spread your legs like the good obedient bitch you are” he commands, but you close your legs even more. “No!” you shout. “Fine… then if you don’t really want to cooperate I might have to call them and I can assure you that’s gonna be way worse” he threatens you, and he is right… if they come, you are lost. Completely lost.

Slowly, crying and nodding you spread your legs, your panties are rags at this point, a simple pull and they will probably disintegrate… you know, during the apocalypse there aren’t many Victoria’s Secret shops open. “I see you are dripping wet, bitch!” he points out, aware of how your core has reacted to such degrading but hot behavior.

And then again, the guilt… “I must be losing my mind”

He rips off your lingerie, and leaves you exposed in the middle of a deserted street, in the middle of the last days of earth, your whole anatomy ready to be devoured or forcibly fucked… at this point you don’t even care, perhaps this could make you feel anything before it all ends.

His fingers penetrate your entrance, sliding in and out with the honeys of your arousal. At first you just mumble cold repetitive “no” but then they turn into a mix of cry for help and the need for him to go on, rough so rough, to go on until you come. But he won’t make you come just by fingering you, he wants to fuck you so hard…

“Don’t come until I fill you up with my dick, you little bitch” he utters, and just as fast as he ripped your pants off he is in between your legs spreading them as open as possible for his huge muscular body to fit. He slaps his once again hard dick over your clit, making you squirm, fixing his orange deep eyes into yours.

And inside he goes, he does not wait, he does not do it softly. He penetrates you up until the deepest place possible. You feel like ripping in half, your walls stretch and clench around his dick as he pumps faster and faster. “Take it inside, take it all” he shouts. You are unable to even speak, you just moan and whine. It feels so good and yet so wrong, being forced and humiliated and still enjoying it must be sick, but you can’t help it.

His strong arms on each side of your head as he fucks you rough, you bite his right wrist, and he doesn’t care. “Babe, fuck… can I?” he asks. “Kid, yes don’t you dare stop… fill the fuck out of me” you beg, sex so intense you two forgot about your “forced sex fantasy”.

“Babe, I love… you” he mumbles when gives you the last thrusts.

“I… I love you… too” you whine as you reach climax, burying your heels into the small of his back…

Climax, a wonderful so needed orgasm leaves you both deceased. You rest your head over Kid’s chest. The sun above you scolds your skin even more than before everything changed, more than when the world wasn’t ending… “I’m sorry for ripping your clothes, babe” Kid excuses himself. “It’s ok, darling. I really liked your acting. Even during the apocalypse you manage to fulfil my fantasies” you tell him, kissing the tip of his nose.

“It’s my job, to protect you and make you happy…oh and by the way, I found some new clothes and clean water. A guy named Killer shared them with me. That’s why I ripped your old clothes...”

“You are my sunshine, Kid. I’d have let myself die at this point if it weren’t for you… Now let’s go, what if “they” come?”

“You are right, let’s go…”

#eustass kidd #eustass kid imagine #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x oc #one piece kid #kid one piece #kid pirates #spicy week event #sashi ya #one piece #eustass x reader

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florencwrites · 3 years

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ignoring is bliss 〚technoblade〛

in which [reader] struggles with her lover's inconsequent affection, and a good talk is unfortunately inevitable; the silent treatment has never worked well with techno.

"I don't know what you want me to say." His back had still been turned towards me at this point, the rake heavy in my hands as I tried using it to steady myself in the muddy stable. He kept loading dirty plucks of hay onto his pitchfork, the thinly lined buttoned shirt he was wearing easily letting his back muscles shine through.

I stood silently behind him, deliberating my words thoroughly. I hated when he acted like this, I absolutely despised him. He was one of the smartest men I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting, however, the second things went sideways conversation-wise he always played it painfully personally. He would start correcting my grammar or suggest synonyms for otherwise satisfactory sentences. "I don't either."

"I guess that marks the end of this conversation." He turned around to dump his gathered muck in the makeshift wheelbarrow Phil had built us. His face was hard, his brows furrowed and his features lax. He seemed indifferent, his attitude scaring me to pieces.

"Tech, please." I tried, putting one of my hands up to gesture for him to stop walking. He was now barely lifting the barrow from the ground, ready to head off to the dump. He huffed, his eyes meeting the floor as he put the wagon down. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I'm sorry," I muttered softly.

He ducked to grip his hands around the handles again, lifting it from the ground. His knuckles were white where they held onto the leather-covered grips. "Speak up."

"I want to have a conversation with you, okay? Stop acting so fucking stuck up and talk to me." His shoulder brushed past mine as he exited the stables, my voice was high in emotions, definitely on the verge of breaking with desperation.

He snorted. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say when you've calmed down."

"He won't talk to me, Phil." I groaned almost obnoxiously loud, taking a sip of water to wash down both my dinner and my agitation. "You know how he gets."

"All pissy? Tell me about it." He chuckled softly, his forearm shielding his bowl from my sight. He shoveled another spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. Phil and I had never been extraordinarily close, he reckoned Techno and me to be undeserving of each other. A terrible pair. And perhaps we were, at times like this I couldn't help but doubt whether or not we truly were the destined lovers we often thought ourselves to be. "I'll bring him some food later."

I laughed at him, a father at heart. A father to anyone but his actual sons, really. A playful grin on my lips, "You're an enabler, Phil."

That night I crawled into an empty bed. One I hadn't even doubted would be just that; empty. He was weak like that, he'd do anything to avoid conflict. Whether that was because he was afraid of what his blinding rage fits would conjure, or whether he was just an impotent coward. Someone who didn't know how to act around uncertainty and immorality and thus resorted to blaming everything on his treacherous temper.

The sheets still smelled of him, I held them to my nose.

There was no reason for us to fight, I hadn't meant to start one. I simply wanted him to realize how different he acted towards me when surrounded by any crowd. He acted so distant it made me doubt not only us, but myself. My heart ached anytime he pulled his hand away from where I tried leaving him a subtle touch. My skin crawled when he no longer referred to me by the mild, but unmissably warm names he had for me.

However, nothing would ever hurt me as much as meeting his eyes in a room of our friends and seeing the love seep from his irises. Physically witnessing his affection turn into nothing short of mere acquaintance.

Everyone knew us. There was no reason for him to act so cold, so distant. Though, I also recognized that perhaps there was an underlying reason. One I simply hadn't thought of, or perhaps one that I couldn't ever imagine. One that he had retained from his troublesome past.

The thing is, it hurt me to think he didn't trust me enough with his reasoning. That he didn't want to tell me about his thoughts. I'd been extremely careful and meticulous with any information he'd granted me, I was sure to never let what he told me change my opinion of him. I vowed to never look at him any different.

So, why could he not promise me the same?

There was no point in pushing myself from my sheets the next morning. I knew how long his episodes usually lasted, I wouldn't even have to try talking to him for at least two more days. Normally, I'd try, though. I'd sit in the grass right next to where he was working outside, just talking to him about anything and everything I could think of. Back then I thought for his silence to mean confusion, I thought his swirling mind simply needed a break. That a distraction would do him good.

I sat in the barely-molten grass for hours, never getting a reply.

His smell was constricting my airways slowly, every inhale making it harder and harder to breathe. What if Phil was right, what if he truly didn't love me, or not anymore at least? What if it was all an act to have a warm body to fall asleep next to, to have an extra set of hands around the cottage.

I kicked at the sheets, desperate to get them away from me, to get them from clinging to my sweaty body. I only tangled my legs further into the mess. The bed creaked loudly against the wooden floor of the attic, a gust of wind running through a small gap in the roof.

I shot up, finally being able to rid my body of the sheets. I huffed a few times, the annoyance getting the better of me. I slung my legs over the side of the bed, now just sitting on the wooden frame, letting my eyes wander over the walls. The pictures of us that were tightly tacked to the planks, photos of our favorite pets and our best of friends. Photos of us with Phil and Tommy, and even a stray photo of me and Wilbur, back when we were kids.

My gaze found its way towards the singular window behind our bed, the only one of two walls that weren't entirely slanted. His red robe stood out like a sore thumb in the feeble blanket of slushy snow that had been slowly accumulating over the course of the night. Summer was officially over once again, and the cold would soon make it so we could no longer afford to sleep alone.

He rarely wore his robe outside of special occasions, he usually would simply opt for one of his brown ones. One was trimmed with a thick deer fur, the leather on it sure to keep all frost out. The other one was his summer one, the more dirty one of the two. It was always stained with blood, since it would also be the one he went hunting with. He disliked hunting in the winter, the harsh winds and easily discernible prints made it no fun, according to him. He stacked up during the summer, drying his meats to allow them to be kept safe for months, if not years.

But now he was wearing his red robe, lined with the finest of polar bear fur. The one that had the special compartments for his potions, and the one I had sown a totem into. For good luck. He rarely wore it for any occasion but war.

He pushed himself from the ground, turning around swiftly; the velocity making his cape whisk dramatically up in the wind. His eyes seemed fixated on the ground until they unwarrantedly shot up to the window I was sitting at. Any other day, I would've averted my gaze. Not now. He knew I was staring, and he was allowed to know so. I held my eyes on him until his feet carried him out of sight, into the house. I sighed softly, I felt entirely forlorn without him, without his caring hands and loving eyes. I let myself fall back into the bed, cuddling the sheets once again as I curled away from the entrance. I reckoned he would have to change out of his robe soon, and I didn't want to face him when he did.

I heard the front door slam, and as predicted the rungs of the many ladders soon creaked in his hold. The worn, practically ancient, trapdoor was pushed ajar behind me. I couldn't be bothered to turn to meet his eyes. However, instead of quietly changing out of his clothes, I felt the bed dip. He sat on the side of it, much alike to how I had found myself just minutes before.

"I don't like feeling weak." His voice was rougher than usual, it kept its usual monotone aura, but for some reason, it felt more emotional than ever before. He cleared his throat as if to try and mask it, to no avail, "I don't love you any less."

I shifted in the bed, though, he quickly stopped me, "Don't look at me, that just makes it harder."

I obliged. He let out a trembling sigh, taking his sweet time to deliberate his next words, "Sometimes we are outside together and I'm afraid that when they see how much I care about you, they will realize that you make me weak." I stared at the wall, still curled into the blankets. I wanted nothing more than to hold his face, look at him as he spoke. Instead, I had to make do with the pictures of his face plastered on the wood. His pointy, flappy ears and peaked nose. The two sharp-looking fangs set in the corners of his lips, ones that seemed to disappear when he smiled. He didn't like smiling for pictures, I didn't have a single one of the two of us together where he smiled. The only ones that showed his beautiful pearly whites were the ones that had me behind the camera, something I only then realized might've not been a coincidence.

"It scares me to think they could hurt you for loving me, that's why I don't like holding your hand in town." I shot a quick look over my shoulder, his back was slouched over, his head in his hands with his elbows propped on his knees. He wasn't crying, he simply seemed lost."I never realized that what scares me even more is the idea of you not loving me at all."

I slowly crept from under the sheets as his words fell silent. I crawled over towards where he was sat, near the foot-end of the bed. I took one of his hands from where he had rested his face on it and pulled it out of the way.

I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling my body into his. I draped my legs over his lap as I held him. His built arms felt tender against my exposed back, however, he held me tight. He squeezed softly as another quivering breath escaped his lips. We sat in embrace for a while.

"That's all I asked for, Tech." I smiled into his neck. "I just wanted to talk, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

"Shut up." He playfully tried pushing me away from his torso, underestimating the power of my cling. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

547 notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Fix You

Pairing: angsty!soft!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Words: 4173

Summary: Bucky has been working hard at getting over the trauma that came from being the Winter Soldier, and you do your best to help him through it. But a particularly painful memory almost breaks him.

Warnings: ANGST (I’m so sorry y’all), explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (F receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex), soft!broken!Bucky, fluffy ending, TW: this fic contains implications of animal cruelty in a character’s past. It is extremely vague and non-specific but I will put a warning in the text itself if you still would like to read but this particular type of thing upsets you. Please be mindful of it my soft babies!! SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: This is my entry to the Happy Hoelentine’s Day gift exchange hosted by the absolutely fabulous @chrissquares, @drabblewithfrannybarnes and @amythedvdhoarder. My giftee was @bucky-the-thigh-slayer happy v-day sweetie! 😘

Soo, apparently, I cannot just write a sprinkling of angst, I have to write cut your heart out of your chest and watch it beat in front of your face angst. This fic made me cry while writing it so if you are a big softie, you might want to skip this one. Don’t worry, I gave everyone a nice, fluffy, soft ending to soothe the pain!

Happy Hoelentine’s y’all! Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

dividers are made by the lovely @chrissquares

not my GIF

You weren’t sure what had initially roused you from sleep. Maybe it was the fact that you were used to Bucky’s frame being draped over you, smothering you with his body heat. Whatever had woken you at first, the sound of shattering glass snapped you from your dazed state immediately.

You flew out of the bed and ran towards the bathroom. The light was leaking from underneath the door and when you wrenched it open, you swore under your breath.

Bucky was seated on the floor by the tub, his head in his hands as sobs wracked his chest. The mirror over the sink was smashed, pieces of reflective glass scattered all over the counter and across the floor.

You ignored it, not even noticing as you cut the bottoms of your feet while making your way to him. You knelt beside him and drew him to you, tucking his head under your chin as you ran your hands over his back, trying to calm him down.

“I’m here, Buck.” You murmured as you pressed your lips to his hair. His breathing was coming in ragged gasps as he leaned into you, and you could tell he was still upset. “Do you want to talk about it, honey?”

He just shook his head as another sob ripped out of him, his fingers wrapping in your sleep shirt.

You knew this was all part of the process. Bucky had been working with Bruce and his psychiatrist for 6 months now on identifying and moving past his repressed memories, but damn if it didn’t break you heart every time a new one popped up. This one must have been especially painful, he hadn’t had a breakdown like this in months.

“Sweetie, I’m gonna call Bruce, ok?” He was still a mess, even with you there, and it made you worried.

“No, don’t leave me.” He looked up at you desperately as he leaned against your shoulder, his eyes a startling blue from his tears as he pleaded with you.

“Shit, Bucky.” God, you fucking hated seeing him like this. You felt so helpless. “I can call from here. FRIDAY? Let Banner know we need him, stat.”

“Will do, Y/N.” The AI chirped back at you.

You reached your arm to the sink and turned it on, running a washcloth under the warm water before bringing it back to rest against his forehead.

“Y/N? Bucky? It’s me, Bruce.” You heard Banner call from the front door.

“Yeah, we’re in the bathroom.” You called. Your shoulder was soaked with snot and tears as Bucky continued weeping against you.

“Jesus, what happened?” Bruce hissed when he found you, picking his was through the broken glass as he knelt to examine Bucky, opening his medical case.

“I dunno Bruce, I woke up and found him like this.” You did your best to straighten Bucky up as Bruce took his pulse before pulling back to assemble his otoscope.

“Ok, Barnes, I’m gonna give you a sedative, buddy.” Bruce murmured as he dug in his case again, bringing out a vial and syringe. “I called his doctor when I heard from you and she’s on her way, but she was in Chicago for a conference, so she won’t be in until later this morning. She gave me the ok to calm him down for now.”

You just nodded as you stroked Bucky’s hair, doing your best to distract him as Bruce wound the tourniquet around his arm before plunging in the needle. He released the band before pushing down the plunger, and you felt Bucky relax against you almost immediately.

“I hate this so much, Bruce. I just want to be able to do something for him.”

“You’re doing it, Y/N. I don’t think his recovery would be going so well if he didn’t have you.” He looked down at your feet and winced. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What? Oh, fuck.” Now that Bucky wasn’t occupying your attention, the slices on your feet and knees were throbbing.

“I don’t think you need any stitches, but I’m gonna use some skin glue to keep these from opening up repeatedly.” He muttered, rinsing the cuts with a betadine solution before patting them dry with some gauze.

“Thanks Bruce. Can you help me get him back to the bed?” You asked as he finished his work, throwing a towel over the broken glass and shoving it out of the way.

“Sure.” You each put one of his arms over your shoulders and hauled him to his feet, shuffling awkwardly back to the bedroom. “Dr. Laurent should be here around 10, if you could get him to the med center around then?”

“Of course Bruce, thank you so much.”

He just waved you off as he left, closing the door gently behind him. You changed into a new t-shirt and climbed back into bed, curling yourself around Bucky as you tried to fall back asleep, failing miserably.

It had been two weeks since Bucky’s breakdown. His nightmares had gotten better, but you could tell he was still upset about things. He was barely talking to you, and he hadn’t initiated sex during that whole period. You could maybe coax some small talk out of him over meals, but you could tell he was avoiding talking to you about what he remembered. All you wanted to do was comfort him and he wasn’t letting you.

Dr. Laurent assured you that they were working through it, but that this particular memory was harder to move past. All you wanted to do was comfort him, but he wouldn’t let you close.

The two of you were sitting together in silence, you were going over some field reports with your feet resting in Bucky’s lap as he read some trash mystery novel that you would usually tease him about. Your phone rang from the coffee table and you stretched to pick it up, grinning when you saw it was your sister.

“Hey Frankie!” You said cheerily as you picked up. “What’s going on?”

Bucky smiled to himself sadly as he listened to you chat with your sister. He felt so guilty about what he was doing to you. You were amazing, and kind, but he was so worried that if he let you all the way in, you’d see what a monster he was and leave him.

“Oh my god, a puppy!?” You squealed, and Bucky felt all the blood drain from his face. “Send me all the pictures! We’ll have to come visit soon and meet him.”

Bucky stood up and walked towards the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water and drinking it down greedily.

“Hey, Frankie, can I call you back tomorrow? Great, love you!” You had picked up on Buck’s change in demeanor and followed after him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He muttered, filling his glass again and taking a sip.

You let out a deep sigh at his attempt to dodge. You knew you weren’t supposed to push him, but watching him withdraw from you like this was killing you.

“Bucky, please talk to me.” You pleaded, fighting the urge to go to him and wrap your arms around him, drawing all his pain into yourself as you held him tight.

He shook his head at you as he set his glass down on the counter, avoiding making eye contact. “I can’t.”

You took in a sharp breath at the crack in his voice and your resolve broke. You took three steps forward and pressed your body to his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and bringin his forehead down to lean against yours.

“It’s ok, I’m not going anywhere.” You murmured, bringing up one hand to run through his hair, trying your best to soothe him as you watched tears leak from his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Fuck, of course I promise.” You murmured before pressing your lips softly to his. “Bucky, I’m not going to leave you. I love you.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a deep sigh, inhaling your scent and letting the warm comfort of your body relax him. You kept stroking his back and hair, waiting for him to speak.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

“When I first woke up,” He started after several minutes of silence, still not looking at you. “They would never let me outside. It was almost a year before I saw sunlight. They eventually let me out once they were sure the brainwashing had done its job, but only for a little while. There was…”

He choked on his words and you made soft soothing sounds against his cheek, doing your best to not hold your breath as he opened up to you, worried you were going to spook him like a baby deer.

“There was this tiny stray mutt I found on the compound one day. It was hiding in a little hole in the wall with an injured paw, scared of everything. I managed to sneak out some of my rations the next day for him, and did the same thing for the next week. He wouldn’t take the food from me directly, but I would leave it for him, and it would all be gone when I came back.

“It took a few weeks before he would take the food from my hand, and a couple more before he would let me pet him. Seeing that little guy was the best part of my day. The only break I had from the fighting and the torture. Sometimes he’d crawl into my lap and curl up, and those were the days I thought about making a run for it.” Bucky finally looked at you, giving you a sad smile as he pressed his forehead to yours again before screwing his eyes shut. “I named him Vladik.

“I don’t know why it took them so long to figure out he was there. The guards were supposed to be watching my every move. I wasn’t supposed to have anything for myself, no happiness or solace. And that was all he was. Just a harmless little friend. But the Soldat couldn’t have any friends.

“When the doctor in charge of my programming found out, he told me to bring him the dog, and he… he made me…”

⚠️END TRIGGER WARNING⚠️

He started sobbing before he could finish, and you felt tears running down your own cheeks as you held him tightly, the two of you sinking to the floor as Bucky wept in your arms. You curled yourself around him, wishing you could do something to just take all of that pain from him.

It was an hour before either of you moved. You were stiff from leaning against the counter for so long, but until Bucky started to straighten up, you didn’t even notice. He drew you up after him and you moaned as you unfolded yourself, your legs tingling as blood rushed back into them.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He whispered against your hair with a heavy sigh, drawing you into another deep embrace. “Fuck, I’m exhausted.”

“I love you too, honey.” You murmured, pressing your lips to his forehead. “I’ll be right there.”

You left him to strip out of his clothes as you headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you splashed cold water on your face, trying to keep yourself from having a meltdown.

You were so relieved he had finally opened up to you. But every fiber of your being just wanted to fix all of this, and the fact that you couldn’t was killing you. You choked back a sob as you bent over the sink, bile rising in your throat. It took you a few minutes to fully calm down, but you got your emotions under control with some deep breathing.

You splashed your face a few more times before heading back out to the bedroom. Bucky was still up, sitting on the edge of the bed as he waited for you. He gave you a small smile as you walked toward him, wrapping his arms around your middle and nuzzling his face against your stomach. You moaned as he started to lift your shirt, pressing his lips to your skin softly as his fingers traveled to brush against your breast, squeezing it gently.

He held you tightly and turned his body until you were laying on the bed underneath him. He crawled up your torso slowly until his face was hovering above yours. His vibranium palm cupped your cheek softly as he gazed into your eyes before bending to kiss you, his mouth needy against yours as he bit at your lips before pressing his tongue to yours, drawing a whine from your throat.

Bucky ran his hand down your throat before his fingers started working to unbutton your blouse. He made quick work of it and his mouth moved to your neck as he slid it down your shoulders. You gasped and moved your hands to wind in his hair as he unclasped your bra and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking softly and swirling his tongue around it until it was peaked and sensitive. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he moved to your other nipple, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he continued to move down your body.

His tongue dipped into your navel as he worked at undoing your jeans, pulling them down your legs swiftly along with your panties before diving between your legs.

He had missed this. Those soft sounds of want you made were a panacea for his wounds, soothing his heart as he moved his lips over your sex, his tongue running through your folds as he lapped up your arousal. You arched into his mouth when he pressed against your clit, your hands digging into his hair as his hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread open for him.

He moaned against you as you wriggled beneath him, your back arching and relaxing as he brought you closer to your release. You grip on his hair was bordering on painful as you tightened it, and he relished your loss of control as you fought to close your thighs around his head and press him even closer.

“Mmm, Bucky!” You moaned as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly. He finally released your legs and you wrapped them around his neck as he pushed two metal fingers into you, making you yelp.

He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your canal as he drew obscene squelches from deep within you. He loved the feel of your pussy clenching and fluttering around him, trying to draw his fingers even deeper inside you as he edged you towards your climax.

When he curled them against that sweet, secret spot within you, you lost it. Your heels duck into his shoulders and your back arched you off the bed violently as you clamped down on his fingers. You screamed as your release flowed into his mouth, making him moan as it covered his chin. He licked his lips as he straightened above you, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. It tasted like home.

He gazed down at you lovingly as he removed his boxers, kicking them away before bending to kiss you deeply. Bucky kept his mouth on yours as he crawled onto the bed, tucking his knees under your thighs as he pressed one palm against the small of your back, drawing you up to straddle his lap.

“I love you so fucking much.” He whispered against your lips, running his fingertips through your hair before his tongue was invading your mouth, curling against and tangling with yours as he stole all the breath from your lungs. His metal hand curved over your ass as he ground his hips into you, running his cock through your slick folds. “I need to hear you say it, please doll.”

“God, Bucky. I love you.” You panted as he positioned himself at your entrance, making you whine as he breached you with just his tip. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled you onto him and you hissed through your teeth as you stretched around his length, relishing in the sting you felt each time he entered you.

“Never leave me.” He pleaded as his hips started moving, his thrusts slow and sensuous as he stared deeply into your eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure as you lost yourself in the feeling of being filled with him.

“Never.” You murmured as he buried his face against your neck. “Fuck, baby.”

Your head rolled back as he picked up the pace just barely, his pubic bone grinding against your clit with each thrust and bringing you close to your edge. He nuzzled himself between your breasts and mouthed against your soft slopes gently as you tightened one hand around the back of his neck.

One particularly forceful drive had you falling backwards with a gasp. You managed to catch yourself on one arm and you pressed your toes against the mattress on either side of his hips, doing your best to keep your balance as your pussy clenched around him.

“Fuck, right there.” You whispered, your nails digging into his neck.

He brushed his teeth against your nipple and you almost collapsed against the bed, but Bucky wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly to him as your body spasmed uncontrollably, quivering in his grasp as your pussy fluttered and your release seeped out of you, soaking both of your thighs.

“You feel so good doll.” He murmured against your chest as he kept fucking into you, still moving in rich, deep plunges that made it hard for you to breathe. “So tight and warm. I fucking lose myself in this pussy.”

All you could do was whine as you wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his neck tightly. You took in a sharp breath when he suddenly lifted himself off his knees and pushed even deeper into you, his cock hitting a new spot inside you that had you seeing stars. He gripped his hands tightly at the small of your back as he ground against you.

He hit you at just the right spot and you came again, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his hair as your body vibrated against his. He inhaled your scent with a moan as he fell forward, catching himself on his vibranium hand before he collapsed on top of you.

You kept your body wrapped tightly around his as he held you in that position with one arm, carrying all of your weight as his hips started moving violently, slapping against the back of your thighs as soft wet sounds came from between the two of you. It only took a few thrusts before you were cumming again, screaming against Bucky’s neck as the coil in your stomach snapped, your muscles finally giving out as you rode the wave of your pleasure, your body rolling underneath him as you released his neck and he let you sink back onto the bed, your arms falling above your head and your feet coming to rest on either side of his knees.

Bucky kept one arm hooked under the small of your back, arching your body at a beautiful angle as his hips started to stutter, his cock twitching inside of you as he neared his own end.

“Gimme one more doll.” He whispered, mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each thrust of his hips, and the way your face had that blissful, fucked out look as you bit your lip and screwed your eyes shut.

He ground his hips in a circle with his next thrust and smiled as your body tried to curl off the bed. You sobbed as you came, crying his name as your thighs squeezed his hips and your cunt milked his cock. He collapsed on top of you as he came right behind you, his spend shooting into harshly, painting your canal in thick white ropes as his hips stilled.

You held him to you tightly, refusing to let him go as the two of you drifted off to sleep. All you wanted was to rest with him inside you, and he needed to feel you around him, to let you know that you were his home, his haven against all the pain of his past. You smiled as you felt his breath grow deep with sleep, your hand resting on his back as your own slumber took you.

Bucky made a lot of progress over the next few weeks. Telling you had lifted a weight from his shoulders that he didn’t realize he was carrying. His sleep was still interrupted by nightmares occasionally, but every time he woke up to find you next to him was like a balm for his soul.

He was finally starting to feel truly happy, and that made you happy. Dr. Laurent had finally given the ok for him to start going on missions again, and that was great, but he really found fulfillment at home with you, and the best part of his day was when he walked through the front door to find you waiting for him.

You were excited for Valentine’s Day. It felt like the first holiday you could really enjoy as a couple as he had made so much progress. You were thankful that Steve had kept him occupied all day, giving you a chance to work on your present for him. He was out for a run in the rain right now as you put the final touches on the meal, reviewing the recipe a final time as you set the table, shrugging to yourself and lighting the candles.

You almost dropped your match when you heard him open the front door, cursing as you narrowly avoided setting the tablecloth on fire.

“In here baby!” You called as he came inside, shaking himself from the rain. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Aww, doll, this looks… is that aspic?” He asked, one eyebrow cocked as he eyed the meal you had set out for him.

“Sure is!” You said with a grin as you eyed the brown, gelatinous entrée, doing your best to tamp down your nausea. “Steve said it was your favorite back in the day, so I decided to surprise you.”

“Steve?” He asked, a grin spreading over his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. “You asked Rogers what to get me for Valentine’s Day?”

You studied the look on his face and looked back at the meal, considering things.

“That motherfucker.” You said as he broke down, laughing hysterically. “I’m going to murder that giant.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would actually like this!” He said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I dunno, the 30s were a weird time!” You cursed yourself in your mind for being so gullible. “Well shit, I wasted a whole day. I’m ordering Chinese.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself doll, it’s the thought that counts.” He said, giving you a mock pout before wrapping his arms around you and kissing your hair. You yelped when you felt something move in his hoody.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” You screeched as his pocket squirmed, something inside it making a tiny squeaking sound.

“Uhh, don’t be mad.” He said sheepishly as he tucked his hand into his pocket and drew out a tiny, white kitten who was screaming bloody murder. “I found her in a ditch when I was on my run, and it didn’t seem like her mother was anywhere nearby. I didn’t want to just leave her out there.”

“Oh my fucking god, Bucky!” You reached out and he handed her to you. You wrapped your hands around her loosely and cradled her against her chest. “We need a heating pad.”

“What?” He asked confused for a second.

“She’s barely a week old honey, she can’t regulate her own body temperature, go get my heating pad from the bathroom.”

“So, we’re keeping her?” He asked, a grin spreading over his face as he rushed into the bathroom.

“Of course we’re keeping her Barnes.” You scoffed at him. “FRIDAY, we need kitten milk replacer as soon as possible, and specialty feeding bottles for newborns. And get a vet here too.”

“On it, Y/N. There’s a house call veterinarian that can be here in one hour, and the rest of your supplies should arrive within 30 minutes.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” You were making soft cooing noises at the baby as Bucky came back into the room with the heating pad, and he practically groaned at the smile you gave him.

“Happy Valentine’s day, doll.” He murmured as he kissed your hair and wrapped one arm around you, handing you the heating pad.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Buck.” You whispered back at him. “What should we name her?”

“What do you think of Alpine?”

Tags!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash h @khadineberry @shutupstevie @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 02 @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @isysen en @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares

818 notes · View notes

brownandblackpearls · 3 years

Text

🦇𝒯he 𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader)

PART 1 SUMMARY:

While trying to escape the clutches of criminals and cutthroats, you stumble across a castle beyond imagination. The corpses staked at the front aren’t enough to keep you out. But after entering, you begin to wonder what you got yourself into, and what the castle is hiding within its walls...

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── TW// slight gore, general mentions of rapists// Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ next.

┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐

└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘

You fight through the underbrush of the woods, hurrying as quickly as your feet will allow.

They’re on your trail.

You’ve been evading these criminals from the last town you’d passed through, but they just keep stalking after you. They’d been all too eager to see a lone, beautiful woman traveling with no companions, no guides, and no guardians.

They had tried and failed to corner you alone several times in the town and on the roads, but you haven’t made it this far on your own without some learned skills. A finger-bolt of lightning at one’s eye, a fire-heated palm tight on another’s wrist, swings of sharp dagger at all of their torsos, their throats.

Anything and everything to escape. It’s not your first sticky situation, and it probably won’t be your last.

You know how to be quiet. How to hide. And when it comes down to it, you know how to swindle and how to fight, if need be. You try not to resort to that, not out of compassion or concern for the heathens that try to best you...no. You just know that you’re not as skilled as some of the rigorously trained ex-militia and rogue bandits that prey on loners in towns and off the roads.

You don’t know exactly what they want. A woman to toss around between themselves and torture before they descend on you like wolves? A new girl to sell on the black market? A pretty decoy to get carts and wagons to stop on the roads, allowing them to abush, raid, rape and kill as they please?

Whatever it is that they want, you’re not giving it to them.

‘They’ll have to catch me, first.’

You duck and dodge branches, bobbing and weaving through the trees before the forest finally begins to clear. You keep your hand on your dagger’s hilt, just in case.

Who knows what hides in the woods?

Finally, you come to a clearing run through by a small creek. The dense woods have seemed to disperse here, and now all that you can spy are peaceful glens and swaying flowers. Deer jump away through the grass, hares run into their holes, and fish shine from the stream.

It feels…safe.

But you’re not one to be foolish, and so you continue on. Hoisting your basket closer, you can’t help but spy a garden as you pass through the glen.

Fat tomatoes hang on vine, bright orange carrot tops sprout from the soil, green onions, zucchini, berries and fruits….

…Someone has made a garden here. Hopefully if they’re the gardening sort, then they’re the safe sort. You quickly fill your basket with a few items, tuck some coins hidden near the stalks in apology for your ransacking, and carry on.

Finally, the glen ends, the forest stops entirely, and you stumble upon something entirely unexpected.

'A castle...? Out here in the middle of nowhere...?’

A grand, gothic castle of castles, spirals up towards the clouds in the sky. You gaze up at it in awe, sure that there is nothing else in the world quite so large or so spectacular. You’re certain that had the woods not been so oppressive and thick on the way in here, so wide and strenuous, that you would’ve spotted the castle for what it was miles and miles and miles ago.

You whistle low, impressed as you step forward. You take only a few steps before you stop.

A ripple in the wind draws your eye.

Two barely clothed bodies impaled on stakes tower before you, death etched onto their faces. The spikes go through them, hidden by the soiled shifts they wear and rising high up and out through their mouths. It is a grisly sight indeed. Unfortunately, you’re no stranger to ‘grisly’ in these lands.

You move slower, more carefully than before.

Assessing the bodies, the blood is long dried on the stakes and the petrified flesh. Most of the meat is gone, pecked away by crows most likely, and the flesh that remains is hard and dried out.

You have dealt with your fair share of monsters, but you’re not too sure you want to risk running into the one who did this. It was done with malice, strength, and a raw fury. A nonchalance for human life, it seems. Much like the same nonchalance shared by the evil men you run from.

You hear faint voices call from the trees.

They’ve tracked you. And they’re coming closer.

“We can’t come here. It’s cursed ground. Don’t you know who this castle used to belong to?”

“Yeah, and they’re dead. No one’s seen em’ for ages. But I see little footsteps. Have a feeling the lass went this way.”

You freeze, glancing between the bodies, the huge castle door before you, and the mouth of the forest.

It’s the castle and its possible hidden horrors, or the men on your trail.

“Skin like ebony, that one. Pretty mouth, doe eyes. She’d sell for a pretty penny.. We wouldn’t have to raid for months.”

“…Or we could keep her to warm the cold nights.”

Your mind races, trying to choose.

You could fight the men, still. But there are many of them, and just one of you. Your magic is somewhat abysmal without knowledge to guide you, and your dagger won’t measure up to prove the little sword skills you do possess. Your words will probably not get you out of this one, either. Not this time.

“I’d rather make her scream.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you Macon? But you did that to the last one, and now we’re out here hunting a new lass instead of enjoying the old one.”

‘That’s it,’ you decide.

The castle it is.

You sprint away from the woods as fast as your billowing cloak and dress will allow, ignoring the foul smell of decay and passing between the bodies. You feel as though you’ve irrevocably crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed, a decision made that can’t be taken back.

You will live with it, you decide. Better that, than capture.

Racing to the front of the grand doors, larger than the largest buildings you’ve witnessed in life before this day, you bang raptly against the wood and stone.

For a moment, nothing happens and you feel as though you will be caught right at the footsteps of this castle.

Then, you hear a doldrum, a creak and whirring of machinery and mass movement. The door shifts open just slight enough for you to slide through, making a gigantic noise in it’s wake.

Quick as wind, you push through and fall to the floor, turning to see the grand door begin to shut closed behind you.

The men stand before the staked bodies, unwilling to pass them and watching you as the doors close you out of their sight.

“You’d be better off with us murderers and thieves, woman!” One shouts futilely. “For even our hearts aren’t as black as the monster’s in those walls!”

The door shuts him and the rest out. You harrumph and stand, wiping the dust off your dress and looking away.

Fuck him. And fuck his threats, and fuck his horrible little friends. Any black-hearted beasts you come across, you could handle well enough.

At least…that’s what you tell yourself to keep a brave face. Better that than nothing.

You look around.

The inside of the castle is larger than life, grand, and dark. Everything is clean and without dust as you would’ve expected from such a structure…an army couldn’t keep this clean…yet it feels unlived in.

For a moment, there is nothing but heavy, oppressive silence. You listen for a breath, a sound, but can hear nothing outside of your own increasing heartbeat.

You turn, looking to the top of the staircase.

Your eyes tell you there is nothing there, but your instincts tell you something else.

Suddenly, the lights of a thousand candles sweep on throughout the grand hall, illuminating a massive stone staircase and a figure standing at the top of it. You have very good sight, but the room is so large that you can barely make out the figure, even with the candlelight.

Nothing is said, the figure is motionless, and you begin to tremble. This must be the one who lives in this place…not an intruder or a vagrant. You don’t know how you know, but the figure is too large, too looming, and too confident even in its vagueness of detail for you to assume it to be anything other than the owner.

The one who likely staked those unfortunate souls outside the walls.

You feel as if the mysterious figure is waiting for something, and you don’t know what to say. But something must be said.

Your voice is as steady as your fear will allow.

“My name is ———. I come from afar. I am…I am seeking refuge…if you will have me.”

“Refuge from the men outside.”

The voice carries through the empty hall, lilting, low, and deadly. You hear hints of refinement in the speech but they are not enough to hide the white hot lethalness you sense underneath. A rage that you cannot even begin to place or name.

“Y-yes,” you stumble embarrassingly, affected, “from the men outside. They followed me here. I have nowhere to go.”

“And so you feel entitled to my protection.”

“No!’ You exclaim, shaking your head. You stopped expecting assistance from people long ago. The life of a lonely wanderer is just that...lonely. “I inconvenience you, and for that I apologize sincerely. Just…just refuge. I can be on my way after they depart.”

“To where...?” The disembodied voice says as calm as a pond at night, yet you feel the ripples that lie beneath.

“Nowhere,” you breathe.

“…And you come from?” The figure disappears like a mist, yet the voice remains.

“I…nowhere,” you gasp honestly, truly afraid now.

“Lies.” The voice spits viciously, sounding closer then far away, as if it’s bouncing around the space of the great hall.

“It’s t-true!” You insist, your trembling hands reeling in towards your chest in a futile attempt of protection from the unseen danger. “I hail from nowhere! I belong to nowhere! I have little. Just refuge, sir. A night, even!”

“I could grant you refuge,” the voice assumes, “or I could send you back out to those men and be bothered with none of you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you breathe, daring a chance to hope.

The voice chuckles humorlessly, dry as dead leaves.

“Perhaps,” it toys. “But I also wouldn’t allow a mysterious woman of mysterious origins to stay in my castle, learn of my ways, only to run back to the outside world and send a horde of farmhands sprinting over to slay me. Wouldn’t be the first time. No, I think I’ll keep you instead. Are you willing to make that bargain with the Devil?”

You pause, your mind blank. You search for an answer to reason with this...this...your thoughts race.

“Look, I know I’ve come into your abode unannounced and rather…rather rudely, making demands, but I must implore you—“

“—Answer me!” the voice barks, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

'That’s it.’

“You’re a prick, you know that?!” You blurt.

“…” You can hear the confusion in the empty air. “…Pardon?”

You push on, figuring that if you’re going to be staked by the unseen castle-owner or given up to the men outside, or toyed with any longer by any of this nonsense, that you may as well speak your mind one last time.

“You know good and goddamn well that I am not running into a fantastical, creepy castle of myth decorated by corpses on the front porch for the fun of it! As if I care or even believe some farmhands could handle much less defeat you when you can clearly impale full grown adults and work such a place as this—!”

“...”

“—And how dare you tease a woman scared out of her wits, can you even pretend to try to put yourself in my place?! Do you know how long I’ve been running from those idiots? If I had your strength I’d’ve staked them myself and added them to your lovely, little welcome collection as a visiting gift, because believe me, I’m sick of running from morons and monsters! I’m not above spilling blood! But as I said before, I possess little, and come from nothing, and journey towards nothing. From that, you can figure I can’t do much in terms of protecting myself besides running into large, spooky places and begging their arrogant owners for some rest—”

“.....”

“—So, I’d very much appreciate if you stopped toying with me and make your decision on whether you’re going to kill me, kick me out, or keep me, because I’m tired of trying to figure this all out by myself and I’m tired of the anticipation. So what’ll it be Mr. I-Like-to-Leave-Corpses-Outside-My-Castle-and-Harrass-Visitors?”

You huff after your rant, waiting.

The voice is silent for a long, long moment, before an accusing tone reverbs back to you.

“You’re the one who barged in—“

“—You’re the one who opened the door!” You return, throwing your hands out in frustration.

“I didn’t, the castle did.”

“Oh, well fuck me, then. I suppose I ought to thank the ‘castle’ and head back out to let those hoodlums try their worst. So long, strange sir! It was interesting, arguing with you.”

You turn on your heel, over this entire day, and knock at the door raptly. You tap your foot as you wait on the castle, arms crossed and dagger in your hand to strike the nearest hoodlum that likely awaited outside. What a day, you couldn’t believe this shit.

The machinery whirs once more and the door barely opens before a large, leather gloved hand reaches past your head and slams the towering door back, closing it shut. The strength the act takes is incomprehensible, you think.

Inhuman, you realize.

The hairs at the back of your neck raise long after the presence behind you appears. You feel no breath on your neck, yet you know someone stands behind you. You can’t look away from the large, gloved hand on the door. You’re afraid to see exactly who stands behind you.

A man...? Or something else entirely….?

You try to speak but gasp instead, short and shocked.

Silence reigns before you get a hold of yourself and choke something out.

“Y-y-you’ve made your decision then…I presume...?” You stammer into a squeaking volume, your anger long gone and replaced by fear once again.

“Don’t make me regret it…” The voice sneers, close enough for the breath of it to shift your hair and the baritone to reverb over your skin. A chill runs up your back and you can do little to hide it. You feel as though the figure behind you is impossibly tall, imperceptibly assessing, and spying every single thing you do.

You feel the presence lean in over your shoulder, a mouth right next to your ear.

“…or you will regret it, visitor. That, I can promise.”

You gulp loudly, nodding your assent without turning around. You feel frozen to the spot. The hand withdraws and your shoulders unclench only a fraction. You feel as if a predator had been standing behind you, and has decided not to destroy you...for the moment.

You wonder if you are right, and why your cheeks suddenly feel so hot when your heart is beating so fast in terror...?

“I’m going to clean the trash off of my porch,” the voice states eerily. “Don’t touch anything until I return.”

As quick as a blink, the presence disappears entirely.

You finally turn around, alone and confused.

There is nothing but the large castle hall, looking back at you.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ next.

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Searching for Hidden Things (Ticci Toby X F!Reader)

Searching for Hidden Things

[Ticci Toby X F!Reader]

[Warnings: it's kinda sad? Language, blood but only slight.]

[AN: Another good one from Eris]

You are convinced that your home is haunted now more than ever. While you are not particularly ghost believer inclined, as a witch, your mind is open to these kinds of happenings but that’s not your field of study - you’re much more inclined to herbology and green witchery as opposed to medium and seership into other planes of existence. The natural, real world is what you are focused on. Not some spectre that happens to like little knickknacks that you don’t even claim ownership to.

How on earth did you end up here?

Simple. Fresh out of college and working from home, you decided to leave your stuffy city and come out to the countryside to get back into nature. It took forever to find a place that piqued your interest, but a small town smack dab in the middle of Alabama. You’re almost dead certain there’s barely five thousand people in the area. Though, you hardly stick around long enough to find out.

You only dip into town in the evenings and get the groceries that you can’t grow. Let’s just say you really enjoy living off the land and that practice helps you further your own craft. It’s anything a hedgewitch might dream of. The people that live here are pleasant, but they’re silent.

It was a normal evening visiting your favorite curiosity and occult shop run by a sweet girl and her partner who have come to expect you weekly on Saturdays. You usually stay for tea and a cupcake or whatever baked good Zinnia and Briar have set up for you, and it is from one of these little sit downs that you found out your home isn’t exactly normal.

“It’s so nice to see you again, love bug!” Briar smiles widely, their arms opening to greet you.

You smile back and walk into their arms and hug back just as tightly. “I could never miss tea time with my two favorite curio owners,” you chuckle.

Zinnia pops out from the back, her hands are covered by oven mitts. “I just made some brownies! Also have some angel food cake from last night. Come, come. Briar? Get the tea,” she says as she rushes to the back to set up the table in the sunroom.

Briar nods and puts their hand on your upper back, guiding you to the back. “My wife thought you would’ve liked the angel food cake. She’s been talking about it all night,” they explain, a giggle on their lips.

Zinnia is buzzing around like a bumble bee while her partner attempts to get her to sit down. She’s a good host, you’ll give her that. This is your fourth sit down with them and she’s like this every time.

“Reader isn’t going to care about the plates-” Briar attempts to say before getting shushed by Zinnia.

“I like being aesthetically pleasing,” she says as Briar absentmindedly ties her curly black hair into a ponytail. “Unlike you,” she giggles.

You roll your eyes playfully at their sweet gestures. “Aesthetically pleasing or not, those brownies and the cake look delicious.”

“See? Reader gets it,” Briar lightly ribs before bringing the tea to the table, Zinnia following close behind them with platters and plates. “So,” Briar hums. “How is your place?”

You begin pouring yourself some tea and shrug. “I don’t think I ever mentioned it to you, have I?”

The couple shake their heads as they get comfortable in their seats. “Where have you put your boots down?” Zinnia inquires.

“There’s this little house in the woods,” you begin to explain before sipping at your tea. “Had a great garden and was already furnished, asked the realtor and she practically threw it into my arms.” You put down your tea cup and cut a brownie for yourself before raising a brow at the couple’s shocked and slightly confused expressions. “What’s wrong?”

Briar blinks a few times before shaking their head. “It’s nothing! Just, it’s the house in the woods?”

You nod in confirmation. “The house in the west woods, near the pond with water lilies?” You continue in an attempt to further their understanding, getting the feeling there’s something you don’t know but should. “Guys..?”

“S-Sorry,” Zinnia suddenly says. “It’s just that…” Her eyes shift around for a few moments before she leans in close, as if she was telling you a secret. “That house is haunted.”

Your eyes go wide before you laugh. You laugh and laugh and then when you realize they’re silent, you blink. “Wait what? Why do you say that?”

“Someone used to live there a few years ago, we moved in after her… disappearance,” Briar explains. “She just,” Briar makes a poof shape with their hands, “like nothing. No trace, no leads, the house was empty but everything of theirs? Still there.”

“Who was the person that lived there before?” You ask, intrigue kicking up before you bite into the brownies and then try the angel food cake. Zinnia was right, you do like it.

Briar shrugs, “we don’t know. Whispers say it was the girl named Natalie. She kept to herself but from the people I’ve talked to so far - at least, those who would talk about it - said she was sweet and spunky.”

“Guy at the grocery store, Mr. Wu? He said that Natalie was his regular. They were friends,” Zinnia adds on. “He used to visit her house every now and then and said near the end, her behavior got kind of squirrely. One night, he went to visit her and saw her running. Of course, guy is like seventy, got scared and ran back home. Called the police over it. They got there? Nothing.”

You nod as you listen to them give out their theories on what might have happened to Natalie. It’s one of the most interesting things you’ve heard of since you moved in.

When you returned home, you couldn’t help but shake the thought you were a guest in what used to be Natalie’s home. Your hands flew over the slightly dusty shelves and found it wrong to really touch anything that might not be yours. There’s books about boring things, encyclopedias, general knowledge, young adult fiction, but nothing that tells you who she was.

As you stand with your arms crossed in your living room, you search for the things that were left from her. Your room is entirely yours, you’ve already managed to find a room and clear it out for your witchy things, the kitchen was empty and there is no basement. This house is small, more like a cottage. If there were any signs of who she was, they’re not easy at making themselves known.

All you have to go off of from her is the living room and is undoubtedly Natalie’s and not yours. The shelves and other knick knacks are things that don’t match your aesthetic at all. Seems she was fond of the color green, just not plants like you are.

It’s by the living room that you’re able to learn some things about Natalie, even if they’re minute. For instance, you can tell that either she likes costumes or she’s missing an eye due to a small box of eyepatches varying in color and design. She’s got a frew petal pressed flowers - tulips - and last you checked, that meant a declaration of love according to the standard Victorian language of flowers.

You know absolutely nothing about Natalie other than her name and that she may be missing an eye and that she has tulips, but she permeates your mind like a virus that refuses to go away. You’re entranced with her, and want to know more of her.

When you work on sigils, you make one for her and put it in the corners of the front windows and in the doorframe. You wonder if she’s out there, and if she is, if she’s safe. If she is, you hope the runes and sigils you’ve made for her will keep her that way.

One evening at the grocery store, you have the privilege of being able to speak to Mr. Wu when ringing up some craving you’ll know you’ll inevitably have.

“Natalie?” He hums as he rings up your items. “She was a nice girl,” he continues. “Very kind, had a good sense of humor.”

You furrow your brows and smile sympathetically at him. “I’m sorry for-”

“It’s no matter,” Mr. Wu brushes off. “I don’t know what happened to her, and I’d like to think she’s still out there,” he begins checking the register for the total. “I’d like to think that when she was running, it was towards better and away from whatever it was she couldn’t get here..” His old, weathered hand reaches out to show you the total on the screen. You notice he’s put on a 50% discount. “On me,” he smiles.

Ever since then, Natalie has consumed your thoughts entirely.

So, how does this all tie into a little sparrow figurine going missing? You think it’s haunted. Genuinely. Have you angered Natalie’s spirit by messing with her house? You’re not so sure. You don’t communicate with spirits, though you’re considering picking up a pendulum and attempting.

Ever since you’ve heard about Natalie, things in your house have been getting moved or straight up lifted. It doesn’t help that you hear, no, you think you hear, things outside lurking around your home. Spiritually, you’ve protected the place more than you think is necessary. The not deer, skinny legends and Wendy boys really shouldn’t be knocking around her mostly because the place is just one giant protective bubble. Still, as you sit up late in the night and look at the moon as it reflects the water from the pond and the peer through the darkness of the trees that hang much too low, you know something is out there that shouldn’t be.

This has all come to a head when you wake up one morning to see that the sparrow figurine is gone. It makes you startle and almost drop your mug in response.

“How the hell..?” You say as you stare at the empty space. Its little circular base has left the real shade of the wood it sits on open. The dust has accumulated around it. You saw it here just yesterday! Little brown and tan sparrow and now it’s gone.

On instinct, you open your front door. It was still locked, and it doesn’t seem that anyone came in. But you know that you didn’t move it either. You haven’t touched any of Natalie’s things, you wouldn’t because you’re worried you’re going to upset her spirit or something. Who took it?

Unfortunately, that’s not even the first time it’s happened. A few days later, the little robin is gone too. Now you are absolutely convinced your home is haunted.

Of course, you call up one of your friends who also practices witchcraft like you do to see what you can do about making amends with a spirit. He’s a death witch - he should know.

“Wait what?” He says, his voice conveying nothing but confusion.

“You heard me,” you sigh as you plop down on the couch. “I think she’s been like, taking things because she doesn’t trust me with them?” You say in a slightly confused tone.

“But you really haven’t moved anything in the living room, right? From the pictures you sent me, you left that space as hers. She shouldn’t be upset considering you never touched her stuff.”

“But these figurines are still missing. How did they just get up and go?” You ask in a slightly exasperated tone, staring at the empty space.

“Y’know what you should try?” He begins, a small audible smile on his face. “Find something personal of hers and return it to her. Maybe she’s looking for something and is just settling.”

“Do you have a protocol for that or..?” You trail off.

“I’ll send you a page from my grimoire, sounds good?”

Here you are, late at night, not able to sleep and looking for something personal of hers. You don’t think it’s anything out in the open that she wants because why would she want that? It’s in her line of sight. You’ve practically turned up your home looking for it - her home? You’re not sure what kind of terminology you should use in regards to this house, but you know you’re hellbent on finding something, anything of importance to her home.

“Come on, Natalie,” you mumble to yourself as you head to your bedroom and begin overturning things. “I just need something of yours, help me make it make sense,” you say. “Natlie, Natalie, Nat, Nat-” and immediately after that nickname tumbles from your lips, you get the overwhelming urge to check under your bed.

Like a mad woman, you dive down to the floor and begin pulling your storage boxes out from under it. One of them snags slightly, and when you tug on it, you pull. Odd. You tug even harder. That’s when part of the carpet comes up. You raise your brow and shove the box out of the way before crawling under yourself and use the flashlight on your phone. It’s dark, a little dusty under here, but you clearly know someone has been under here before.

Your fingertips creep around the edge of the odd piece of carpet before you pull it up, seeing that it’s already been cut up. And there, you feel a handle.

“Oh my gods,” you mumble creeping further under the bed before yanking at the small handle. It doesn’t give right away. In fact, it makes you bump your head from the sheer force of trying to open it. It’s almost as if it was a secret and you’re violating the parties who knew it existed. Still, you continue to tug on it before it finally pops open. You move your phone over to see that there’s a box with the lid loosely placed on. Your hand gently reaches in and scoops the box up. You hold it like it’s glass. “Thank you, Natalie, thank you,” you mumble as you roughly and awkwardly crawl out from back under the bed.

You sit on your bedroom floor now, your phone now forgotten as your fingertips gently trace the box. You mentally ask for Natalie’s permission to open it and when you get the feeling of something warm, like a hug, you do so. Inside the box that you gingerly open, you see that there are letters, letters upon letters in a writing addressed to her.

“Can I read these, Natalie?” You ask softly, your eyes scanning over the one you hold in your hand dates from a few years ago. You feel that warm hug again, and the night alights with songs from the birds on the pond. You know you have her permission.

‘March 16, 20XX. Dear Natalie, how are you? I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I shouldnt have left that soon, but you know hoy my dad is. Anyways, just wanted to check in. Hope to see you soon.’

‘March 22, 20XX. Dear Natalie, I wasn’t actually expecting you to get back to me after what happened! I - thank you. Things have been just fine with me, but I miss being in Alabama. No reason, just miss the woods by your place.’

‘May 5th, 20XX. It’s funny you mentioned that, I saw something last night that reminded me of you too. Y’know how you’re always going on about time and being punctual? The other day, me and my comrades were walking through an antique store. Whole bunch of clocks. Made me think of you:).’

You keep reading the letters and piecing together the story of these two as it picks up through the years as general friendship to something more. This person that Natalie was writing to told them a lot of things - everything from the general happenings of the day to more quieter, intimate things (that you tend to skip over out of respect for Natalie.)

Reading the letters to Natalie becomes a daily occurrence for you. There’s so many that you decide it wouldn’t be right to read them all in one day. So, you read two a night and piece together their story, learning of their love and finding out just who they were. Natalie left some letters that she never sent to her love, mostly the ones that she must have considered duds or the angry ones that she decided not to send when her fire had died down. What? All couples go through those patches. It’s whether you can fix it and get back on the road or hitchhike with another driver that determines the outcome. And them? They loved each other so much, looking at another driver to get to their destination was never an option.

It takes months for you to get through the letters. Even reading two a day, it’s hard to get through a few years worth of content. They wrote to each other often. You’re able to see the full spectrum of emotions from them two, even if you’re on;y reading the letters addressed TO Natalie and not from her (for the most part). You read them smiling, and can hear their tears alongside their laughter. They no longer feel like names on paper, but real, once breathing people.

Eventually, you reach a letter that finally completes the story as you know it. It’s dated from right around the time you know Zinnia and Briar moved in. It explains a lot.

You know that whoever Natalie’s love was working for was NOT a good man. He struck the fear of the gods into them. He was called ‘The Operator’ and apparently had eyes everywhere despite being faceless. The way Natalie’s love writes about him has you feeling chills down your spine. Them too, because it was enough for them to want to run away. Natalie’s love was called a proxy, and from what you can understand, that means he’s a person who does work for someone else because they don’t want to get directly involved. The Operator treats those who work under him like cattle, and nothing more. He was a scary, scary man, and the society he runs is one you know is not intertwined with yours.

The letter that’s in your hands is the last one before their escape it seems.

‘August 31st, 2018. Dear Nat, are you nervous? I’m nervous - you can probably tell by my writing. Tonight we leave everything behind. We run. I hope you know that it’s never too late for you to back out. Because after this, we can never go back to what we used to. I’m so sorry that being around that tall fuck-but did this to you - and shit, by extension, me. I’m so sorry for hurting you, but this is it. This is it. This is the final stop.

Who knew that me striking up a conversation with a cute girl behind the counter of some hippy’s coffee shop would lead to a love like ours? You mean the world to me, Nat. I’m more and more thankful every day that I think about you and receiving your letters has me up to the moon. If you asked me about this kind of thing before I met you, I would have told you that I would never have gotten rid of the proxy lifestyle for a human. Humans are… Well, according to the Operator, they’re dangerous. They’re not worth us.

But you? Oh gods, you? You changed everything. You made it worthwhile. You came into my life like a splash of color in a world so grey and cold and bathed me in warmth until I could reciprocate your love and make room for it to grow. I love you, Natalie. I love you so, so much. After tonight, we won’t ever have to worry about this - the space and the distance between us. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just us and our transparency.

I love you, Natalie. I love you so, so much. I’ll see you tonight, backdoor as per what is our usual. To the moon and back! Love, Toby.’

You don’t know why, but Toby’s letter makes you tear up. It’s like you can feel exactly how Natalie must’ve felt when she received it. The tears that prick your eyes roll down your cheeks and you can’t help but take a few moments. You’d always known their story ended with something sad due to the whispers in the town, but getting confirmation that Natalie ran… It didn’t work. It just didn’t work.

You’re wiping away your tears when you hear your backdoor get thrown open. No one comes out to your neck of the woods, and it makes you panic. You can’t find your phone - dang it! Must’ve left it in the kitchen. You scramble around your room as you hear whoever just broke into your house walk confidently without a care in the world to the living room.

“W-Who the f-fuck lives here n-now?” You hear a male voice mutter as they pass your bedroom door. “A-All this w-w-witchy shit,” they continue.

You mentally huff. Rude. You then quietly slink around before grabbing a large chunk of amethyst. It’s rough to the touch and weighty, and unfortunately, one of the only things you have as a weapon now. Your heart is pounding as you quietly move through your hallway to the living room.

“Where i-is it?” He continues mumbling to himself as he tears your living room apart.

You’re able to see him by the faint light of the moon. He’s got brown hair and twitches slightly. Is he nervous? He’s still tearing up your living room though and touching Natalie’s things, and that's unforgivable in your head. So, you raise your chunk of amethyst pillar and quietly creep behind him.

He turns around to look at you, genuinely surprised someone is here when you whack him as hard as you can with the chunk of amethyst. “Are y-you fucking s-serious?!” He yells as he pushes you back.

You look at him with confusion as you back up, still clutching the amethyst before you notice that he didn’t react in the way he should. You hit him really, really hard and in the back of the head. He’s back up and glaring at you like you mildly inconvenienced him. And now? Now he’s pissed and looking at you like he’s going to kill you. You notice that he has hatchets on the sides of his waist.

“C-Come here,” he taunts, eyes narrowed and slowly closing the distance between you.

“Stop,” you shout in an attempt to command him back. “I will hit you-”

“With t-that?” He sneers.

“I swear to the gods I will-”

He looks like he’s ready to pounce when he suddenly stops, a certain sadness and pause rushing over his body and his face as he looks at the letters in your hand. You’d honestly forgotten you were still holding them.

“Where d-did you g-g-g-get those?” He asks quietly, his shoulder dropping.

“What?” You ask, surprised he can do an impression of a human being.

“Those l-letters! They’re n-not yours!” You pull back hard when he tries to grab them from you and swing the amethyst at him and sneer when he ducks. “They’re not yours either!”

“T-The hell t-they aren’t! I-I wrote t-t-them!” He shouts back.

You immediately deflate. “You’re Toby?”

He freezes and flails his arms slightly as if to ask nonverbally, ‘you read those?’

You sigh deeply and rest your hand on your forehead before you rest your arms down slowly, showing that you’re not going to fight him. It’s a pleasant surprise that he slowly copies your movements. “Do you know how a keurig works?”

He nods slowly.

“Make us some coffee. We got a lot to talk about.”

“So, t-t-that’s why you’re here,” Toby hums as he dumps another unholy amount of sugar into his coffee cup. “I-I thought y-you were some s-squatter in Nat’s h-house,” he admits with a small chuckle before scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

You take in a small breath and nod, a small smile pulling your lips upwards. “This is what you were looking for, huh?” You say as you push the box full of memories towards him.

He puts the cup down and takes it into his hands carefully before hugging it to his chest. He then takes in a deep breath, relaxing. “Y-Yes, this is t-them,” he says quietly. “That’s a-a-all I really w-wanted.”

“And the little figurines?” You hum, a knowing smirk on your face.

Toby flushes slightly and nods once more. “T-They just r-r-reminded me o-of her.” He then places the box in front of him and leans back, his eyes blinking upwards towards the ceiling before he stares up at the ceiling. “I lost h-her that n-night,” he says, voice so soft and scared as if he’s reliving it.

“Toby…”

“That w-w-was our thing, y-y’know? W-We were gonna b-b-be free. My b-b-boss found out,” Toby hisses as he picks one of the letters up and gestures with it, “a-and he s-sent my own c-comrades to…” He closes his eyes to stop the tears from welling within them.

Natalie was grabbing her backpack from her room with everything important when Toby came to the doorway and smiled at her. “What’re you doing here?” She chuckled, her green eye flashing with amusement. “Thought you were gonna be getting stuff ready in the kitchen and watching the door.”

“Just d-don’t like being a-a-away from you,” Toby said, a small smirk on his face as he came up to Natalie and brushed a long strand of brown hair from her face. “You’re s-s-such a p-pretty girl,” he complimented.

Natalie blushed slightly and took his hand that rested on her cheek into hers. “Go. I’ll be fine in here.”

“W-Whatever you s-say, p-princess,” he teased before pressing a kiss to her forehead and hesitantly leaving her side.

Natalie rolled her eyes with that smile never leaving her face as she continued getting the last of her things ready for the leave. When she was absolutely certain she was ready to go, she slid the backpack on and headed to the living room. She was ready to go and start a new life with Toby, the only man who ever made her heart skip a beat.

“Are you ready?” She asked, her arms wrapping around Toby’s waist as he finished his cup of coffee.

“S-Sure am,” he replied before turning around and wrapping her in his arms. “You g-gonna miss t-t-this place?”

“Absolutely not,” Natalie laughed. “I can’t wait to get out-”

What happened next was pure chaos. The back and front door were both breached by men in masks, and Natalie quickly deduced that they were Toby’s comrades. His boss found out. Toby reached for the front table and palmed his hatchets and swung them at the man in the white mask.

“Run!” Toby shouted, pushing Natalie towards the open front door. He watched his heart run out and shake off the backpack to gain speed as she took off into the night. Masky hit him, but he did not flinch.

“Fucking hell, Toby!” A gruff voice shouted.

The young proxy then watched in horror as a flash of yellow zipped out into the night to chase after Natalie. Toby felt worry cloud hsi every movement as he dodged and hit Masky. Hoodie’s specialty was tracking and hunting. He had to get out there to help Natalie.

Toby took a step back then ran into Masky as hard as he could, slamming his leader into the floor before attempting to brutalize, but not kill him. When he was sure that Masky was going to need a moment, he shot up and sprinted out of the house and into the darkened forest to find Natalie. He must’ve prayed the entire time he ran.

He ran over the heavy forest growth and cursed the roots that almost tripped him before he felt his world go quiet.

Natalie was screaming.

Toby heard his name cried out in the trees and his heart sunk down to the forest floor as he ran wildly to the source. He felt hot tears as they rolled down his cheeks as he finally found that same damned hue of yellow waiting for him.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” Hoodie mused as he dug his boot onto Natalie’s skull, making her cry out in pain and fear. Her arms reached out for Toby, his name permanently on her lips.

“You f-fucking bastard!” Toby roared as he lurched forward, attempting to beat Hoodie within an inch of his life when something hard smacked into the back of his head. Toby turned around to see Masky. His brown eyes were full of murder as he stalked towards Toby.

“I should kill you for this,” Masky sneered as he got within arm’s distance of Toby.

Toby glared and swung his hatchet again at Masky, now out for blood when Hoodie slammed his boot back into Natalie’s skull, a crack sending Toby into a fury.

“You won’t touch him if you know what’s good for you,” Hoodie said, his hands loosely hung in his pockets. “Leave him alone and focus on your girl.”

Toby felt chills down his spine as he turned his full attention to Natalie. “My g-g-girl,” he whispered as he fell to his knees to hold her. “M-My s-sweet, sweet g-girl.” His hands shoved Hoodie off of her skull, giving her room to breathe. After that, he turned her over on her back as she cried out in pain. He rested her head on his lap and let her sob.

“Toby,” she croaked in a voice like sandpaper. “Toby, it hurts,” she cried, hands reaching out to his face.

“I know,” he said as he gripped her hand. “I k-know, baby, I k-know.” Tears were pouring from his eyes just to see someone he loved in such pain. “It’ll b-be over soon, I p-promise.” His other hand that wasn’t being gripped by Natalie’s went to pet her hair and give her some comfort.

“Over real soon,” Masky huffed. “You better finish this.” Masky continued. “Or I’ll make Hoodie put a bullet in her skull.”

Toby sent another glare up to Masky and protectively held onto Natalie just a bit harder to not cause her physical body anymore pain.

“We need to run,” Natalie whispered as she reached up to hold Toby’s face. “We can still go-”

Toby hushed her as his eyes scanned over her body. She was beyond repair. Hoodie had broken her legs and bent them at angles that should not exist. “You n-need to r-rest, okay? W-We’ll go in t-t-the morning, I p-promise.”

“You do?” She asked, her beautiful green eye beginning to see the world more in shapes than in

“Y-Yes,” Toby promises. “Have I e-e-ever broken a p-promise to y-you?” He hummed before leaning down as best he could to kiss her forehead. “I l-love you, s-so, so m-much.”

Natalie sleepily giggled and allowed her tears to cascade down her face. “I love you too. To the moon and back?”

“T-To the moon a-a-and back,” he said as the grip she held on his hand weakened.

“Toby, my Toby,” she said softly, her voice growing softer as she repeated the words like a mantra. When her breathing slowed until it was nothing, her hand went limp in Toby’s.

Toby closed his eyes as his heart fell into millions of pieces. He refused to let Natalie go that night, and his teammates, who had acted on behalf of a father who did not love them, let him.

“A p-part of m-me died with h-her that night,” Toby says as he lovingly looks over the letters. “I still c-can’t breathe r-right without her.” He closes his eyes and allows his tears to fall. “I d-don’t think I e-e-ever will.”

You get up from your seat and pick it up, silently moving it to rest next to Toby as he begins to cry. You know he must’ve held this one in for so, so long. After planting your chair down next to him, you take him into your arms and allow him to cry.

Toby holds onto you and doesn’t let go. It’s like he views you as a comfort blanket or a teddy bear. And you let him. You let him get it all out.

You feel tears well in your eyes and let them fall too.

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #angst #toby creepypasta #reader insert #clockwork #natalie ouellette

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

The Fox Wedding - Prologue I

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke, Kitsune!Miya Atsumu, Kitsune!Miya Osamu, Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationships

a/n: Welcome to my new series! I’ve been carrying the starts of this idea around for a while now, but while I was doing commissions it really began to spread it’s roots, so here we are! You can, of course, read every chapter that will come out, or choose your ‘route’ from the ones available after they are all finished (; Please mind the specific warnings for each chapter, as they will vary. Here’s the prologue, please enjoy and leave me a comment what you thought about it! ♥

There was no use in screaming and crying, only a few annoyed sighs you heard from the guard on top of the staircase leading outside. No matter how hard you banged on the bars, yelled for someone to release you, or sobbed into your hands, no one came to your aid, having decided to let you have your ‘temper tantrum’ down here alone. What an inhuman way to keep you, in a moldy, make-shift cell, underground, with only a bucket for your needs and a - stolen - bottle of water.

“If we’re lucky, you’ll lose a few pounds before the wedding,” they said, bringing their long kimono sleeves to their faces to hide the ill-willed smirks behind them. But that was the least terrible thing the foxes appearing as human women had done to you so far.

Walking back from the bars to the small window, you stepped onto the single chair in your cell to look outside. Occasionally, you heard voices echoing from the buildings around you. The wind swayed the tall grasses covering every inch of the small village, aside from that, everything seemed abandoned. Roofs you could see had holes, there were no streets with cars or rails with trains nearby. The only thing you knew was there were the animals. The bugs in the grass, the deers in the forest, and the foxes in the village.

Crouching off the chair, you sat down, deflated, scared, cold. Not even your pullover could keep you warm, and you shivered, rubbing your hands against each other and blowing air on them in an attempt to warm up. But it was an effort in vain, you just tried to trick your mind into doing anything. Anything, besides freaking out.

You had every right to be unnerved. It wasn’t every day that some strange man with perky fox ears and a fluffy tail swaying left to right appeared in front of you, announcing you were to become his wife. Actually, the chances of that to happen were so low, you couldn’t even speak of it as a common occurrence at all. He introduced himself, but no matter how hard you tried to remember, the name ‘Kita Shinsuke’ wasn’t one you were familiar with. As absurd as it sounded, you really tried to use logic on a person that was beyond any kind of human reason in the first place.

For the first few seconds, you thought you had actually made a promise to marry this man. Perhaps by accident, maybe drunk? But the longer you thought about it, the clearer you realized that there was no such thing as accidentally accepting a marriage proposal. However, by that time, you had already let him into your newly bought home, served him tea, and questioned his announcement.

“It’s in the contract,” he had explained, softly, no immediate expression on his face. You couldn’t tell if his voice sounded upset or amused. Everything about him was so relaxed and indifferent, he made the situation seem almost laughable easy. “You agreed to be my wife when you bought the land.”

That was ridiculous. Even you knew there had been no such agreement, and yet, you still tried to find your contract, unable to discern it from all the other documents you hadn’t yet sorted in after just moving into this house two days ago. Much to your surprise, it had been Kita who helped you find what you were looking for, all the other papers seemingly flying out of his hand’s way as he reached by you to grab the contract from them. The old, parchment-like deed of ownership in his hand made you realize for the first time how odd the features of this man were. Fingers as pristine as a child, yet, with sharp, pointy claws instead of nails on them. Not to count the ears and tail that moved accordingly to his doings.

It also made you realize for the first time how deep in trouble you were as you read over the deed again.

In a matter of seconds, your life had changed around completely. You saw darkness in front of your eyes every time you tried to focus, your mind becoming dizzy from realizing your name underneath the additional marriage condition listed on the deed. Next thing you knew, he caught you with one arm, and you held on to the soft fabric of his kimono, scared you might lose conscience with your heart both setting out and raising your blood pressure way too fast. But that was only just the beginning of your troubles.

You barely remembered everything that happened until you eventually ended up in this cell. Just a lot of denial and refusal, people storming your house and dragging you out. You could still feel their long fingers and sharp claws pressing into your skin, your wrists and digging into your shoulders, and how their mouths formed grins too wide to be human. Screaming and kicking, you didn’t make it easy for them, but with your house so secluded from everyone else’s, you doubted anyone could hear you.

Moving to Japan, starting over, and live the best life you could imagine for yourself, that had been your dream. Now, more than ever, and in a scenario you couldn’t even have imagined in your worst nightmares, it was taking a turn for the worse.

“Kita-san,” you greeted him, your lips shaking as you held back more tears. Looking at him, it was almost unbearable to see him so calm in your distraught presence. “I want to leave--”

“You’re cold,” he noted, unfazed by the words you were about to mutter. Hugging yourself a bit tighter, you couldn’t deny what he was saying. The bars - as sturdy and metal as they seemed when you rattled them before - twisted and turned as his hand approached them, creating a gap big enough for him to step through. Only now, in the dim light of a candle he was holding, did you see the fur blanket over his arm, which he brought to you. Though you dodged away, Kita was unfazed by your fear, letting the cover fall from his arm and draping it over your shoulder no matter if you wanted him to or not. Admittedly, you were glad to receive a little something to warm up, gripping it with your hands quickly to pull it tighter around you.

Only when you were done shivering, you noticed his hand hadn’t vanished, picking at the part around your neck. With a flinch, you felt his cold fingers dig beneath your hair, pulling it out from under the fur and adjusting the neck properly. It was uncomfortable to have him touch you so casually, perhaps more like a parent would than a stranger who called himself your fiance, but you had to admit it was warmer this way.

“Do you want to marry?” you asked him quietly, a bold question perhaps, but what else was there to talk about? His hand halted, laying down on your shoulder gently, yet you felt almost as if this was a simplified neck hold like you’d do with a cat or dog if they misbehaved. “There’s no use questioning what we want or not. We have a contract, and you signed it. That’s why we are marrying.”

There was a logic to the way he was speaking, yet his words haunted you. Contract here, contract there, what did it matter when this was about marriage? An act of love and partnership? Was this what people called ‘settling for someone’? He couldn’t be seriously wanting to go through with marrying a total stranger just because of a contract, right?

“But I don’t love you! I don’t even know you!” Turning to him, you regretted searching for eye contact with this man, his eyes being just as unnerving as his whole demeanor. Especially now that they seemed to be lit even without the candlelight reflecting in them. Almost as scary was the deep breath that he took after you said what was on your tongue for too long, and you turned away again, not expecting an answer from him. Shrugging off the blanket, you mumbled, “I don’t want to marry you…”

Before it could leave your shoulder, Kita caught it, placing it back where he thought it belonged, and proceeded to make sure it sat right again. This time, the tugs on your hair were a bit rougher, and one of his fingers even scratched you, which you noted briefly with a whine. Kita rounded you, hand falling from your shoulder to the front of your neck, driving up your throat with its claws until it reached your chin, and lifting it, he made you look back into his eyes, despite the tears collecting in yours falling from your cheeks and wetting his hand too.

“My family wants us to marry, and I care about my family.”

He dragged his hand up your cheek, wiping the tears collecting in your eye with his thumb before leaning down to give your forehead a short kiss. “And now you’re my family too, so I care about you. Keep the fur on, I don’t want my wife to be sick on our wedding day, and then sleep until you’re woken up.”

“How can you care for me if you don’t even know me?” you sobbed, lowering your eyes, unable to keep looking at him.

“Who said I don’t?”

Ears peaking up, you held your breath, trying to listen if he said anything more. But Kita didn’t care to explain until you finally looked up again, expecting an explanation that you feared he wouldn’t give you. “The ways of the gods are unfathomable, but that doesn’t mean everything that happens is without reason. We met before, [Name], even if I’m afraid you don’t remember.”

For a split second, and perhaps, for the first time that you met him, you saw his brows furrow slightly as he said the last words, his hand falling from your face, as he turned towards the exit, his feet not making any sounds as he stepped away from you. “What do you mean?” you mumbled after him, his back now illuminated by the white moonlight coming through your cell’s window.

“Who are you?” you kept asking, standing up, barely able to hold on to the fur as you chased after him. However, the moment he stepped through the opening in the bars, they closed rapidly, keeping you from following him outside. All you could do was grip the cold iron with your hands, as Kita turned around briefly. “What are you?” You wished he’d answer you, at least now, at least before this whole ordeal was about to go down. Answer all questions, or even just one, so you could tame those raging feelings of confusion and fear inside of you.

But instead, he merely put his free hand next to yours, fingers laying down on your wrist for a moment before they patted down your arm, telling you to let go of the bars. Instead, he caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the cold knuckles tenderly.

The candlelight vanished as a cold draft filled the air, coming from above the stairs. “Kita-sama?” an unknown voice asked, and you shied away as all you heard was a short growl in return. However, he held your hand tightly in his, not letting go even when the door seemed to fall shut quickly.

“I’m your husband,” were his last words before he finally let go of you, taking his quiet, barely noticeable leave.

Even when you assumed he was gone, you couldn’t find a calm second to collect your thoughts, the questions and lost answers working you up endlessly. You wished for some clarity, a miracle, or preferable even - an explanation.

But your night was far from over, even if there might be even more questions than answers awaiting you.

➤ [Move forward to Prologue II]

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

Savior Complex

He stripped you of your lifeline but refused to let you perish

Chrollo x f!reader

a/n: some chrollo content for your enjoyment

tw: dubcon, imprisonment

wc: 2.1k

Stealing Hatsu from others was akin to eating for Chrollo Lucilfer. He did it to strengthen his abilities and spared little thought on how it affected his victims. To him, people were equivalent to puppets in that they could be used and discarded without a second thought. The only time he spared a thought for his victims was when their Hatsu disappeared from Bandit’s Secret indicating their demise. Chrollo likened it to mourning his victims despite the depravity behind the sentiment.

You were different, however, in more ways than one.

There was no other way to put it—you were a genius nen user. Without any formal training, you developed your ability to manipulate the minds of others. While other geniuses profited off their Hatsu and used it to rise the ranks of society, you were trapped by yours and used it strictly for survival. Bought by a Mafia boss at a young age, you practiced your ‘gift’ on anyone your master sent.

Everything changed when a new esteemed client of your master’s walked into your workshop. Chrollo’s original target had been your master’s rare treasures but, after hearing about your gift, he altered his plan and included your Hatsu. It was a riskier plan, showing up in person for a session, but to Chrollo your ability was worth it.

The first thing that caught his attention was the cold emptiness of the room. Concrete walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, and the smell of disinfectant and death pervaded the small room. You sat on one of the chairs in the center with two armed men on either side. You were a frail young woman in a dirty white gown and with equally dirty hair that lie atop your head in a tangled mess. You were obviously malnourished judging from your sunken cheeks, bony wrists, and knobby knees. The most damning evidence of your mistreatment, however, had to be the leather shackle around your ankle that was connected to a large chain and attached to the wall.

In spite of your dreadful conditions, you rose from your seat with the grace of a newborn deer and greeted Chrollo with a bright smile that caught him off-guard.

“Welcome Dearest Client and please take a seat.”

Chrollo was convinced your lilting voice could soothe a raging beast as he unconsciously lowered his guard and sat down in front of you. Warmth dripped from your eyes as they traversed Chrollo’s face while yours radiated a child-like innocence as you started to explain the process.

“I will look into your eyes for a minute to search your mind for emotions I can use to create your fantasy. Is that alright, Dear Client?”

“Of course, Miss—I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

Your eyes widened at the word ‘name’ while the men behind you shifted uncomfortably. “Um…name? I-I don’t know what—”

“What do other’s call you?” Chrollo interrupted.

“Oh! Then I guess I have multiple names. I’m called ‘You’, ‘Witch’, and ‘Woman’ so please pick whatever you prefer.” You stated and Chrollo started to assess your character and the situation you were in.

“I’ll stick with Miss for now,” he declared before initiating Skill Hunter. “Now, can you tell me a little bit about your gift?”

“Of course,” You were completely oblivious to the growing tension that radiated from your guards and started your explanation. “My creations all take place in the client’s mind but I am always present. They are crafted around positive emotions or memories that I find.”

“So these fantasies are all positive?” Chrollo’s voice successfully masked his disappointment.

“Yes,” you replied fondly. “I use my gift to make other’s happy even if it’s only temporary.”

“Oh…and how long do they usually last?”

“At first, I could only last a couple of minutes but after making a vow, I was able to create fantasies that lasted up to three hours.”

“And what vow is that?” Chrollo asked, genuinely curious.

“Loss of my sight if I ever stopped using my gift. My eyes have no purpose if I can’t use them to search people’s minds and create fantasies for them.” Your smile dimmed as you uttered those words while something akin to pity stirred inside Chrollo; however, it wasn’t enough to spare you.

“What a beautiful sentiment,” Chrollo’s honeyed compliment warmed your heart and your smile brightened once more. “Shall we begin?”

Unlike most of client’s you dealt with, Chrollo’s positive memories and emotions revolved around a group of people instead of jewelry, money, fame. Instead of the luxurious mansions, clear skies, and sandy beaches you normally created the setting of Chrollo’s fantasy was a junkyard city.

You distanced yourself from the client as you usually did and watched from afar. Chrollo greeted each and everyone of the group members but tears welled up in his eyes when a large muscular man approached him.

You panicked at the sight of tears until you felt a wave of happiness from Chrollo and your worries faded away. For you, these moments were priceless and made you forget the pain in your stomach or the weariness in your bones. Seeing your clients happy negated any unpleasant emotions you held against your master and gave your life meaning.

Other clients merely forgot about your existence or purposefully ignored you but Chrollo surprised you by seeking you out.

Where are you? I want you to meet my family.

A strange warmth settled in your stomach at Chrollo’s request and you emerged from your hiding spot. You approached him hesitantly until he reached his hand out causing you to freeze in shock.

“Is there something wrong?” Chrollo asked, confusion written all over his face.

“I-I don’t know. Client’s usually don’t want to see me…why do you?”

“I want to share some of my happiness with you. Is that wrong?” Chrollo’s smile dazzled you and before you realized it, hot tears prickled your eyes.

“T-thank you,” you cried. “N-no one has ever done s-something like this f-for me.”

You accepted Chrollo’s hand and interacted with his family as if the fantasy were real. After delving into Chrollo’s mind some more, you learned that the muscular man was actually deceased and focused on perfecting him for your client.

Like always, you wished your fantasies could last forever along with your client’s happiness but it was an impossible desire and your masterpiece started to crumble. The flaming red sky of the junkyard city turned to fuchsia, then pink, until it became a white void. One by one, the group members disappeared as well until Uvogin was the only one left. He bid Chrollo farewell with a toothy grin on his face before he too became one with the white void.

“I see it’s time to return.” Chrollo commented staring into the white void that was once his beloved city.

“Yes, I’m sorry it ended so soon.” You answered, lowering your head.

Suddenly, Chrollo’s hand grabbed your chin and you met his eyes full of emotions that went beyond your comprehension. “No, Miss, it is I who is sorry.”

You wanted to ask what he meant but your fantasy dissipated into nothing and you were kicked out of Chrollo’s mind.

Your eyes fluttered open to blood splattered walls and your hand lying on an old book held by Chrollo. Everything had gone according to plan and the spiders eliminated everyone in the building including your owner. As the Phantom Troupe hauled out the treasures located in the bunker, Chrollo regained consciousness and fulfilled the last condition of Skill Hunter.

“What…happened?” Your eyes widened in horror when they landed on your fallen guards lying in a pool of their own blood. “H-how?!”

Chrollo watched as you whipped your head around for help only to be met with silence. Your seemingly constant smile was long gone replaced with a horror-stricken face Chrollo was used to seeing on his victims—but you were no ordinary victim.

You trembled as you watched the old book in Chrollo’s hands disappear and darted to your feet in an attempt to run away only to collapse on the ground when your chain extended its entire length.

Teary-eyed, you looked up at Chrollo who decided he never wanted to see that terrified expression on your face ever again. He softened his own face as he crouched down next to you and dried your tears with his thumbs. Confusion replaced fear on your weary face and Chrollo sighed in relief knowing it would be easier to dispel confusion as opposed to fear.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” Chrollo apologized, before knocking you out in a fraction of a second. “But I’ll take care of you now.”

When you woke up to the black void that was your vision, a broken wail erupted from your chest that alarmed various voices in the room. You flailed your arms in front of you to see if you could at least make out their outline but it was to no avail. With your vision gone, the gravity of your situation pumped adrenaline to your limbs causing you to scramble to your knees and crawl on the bed only to fall out of it and onto the cold floor.

“Hey!”

“Are you okay?”

“Get the boss!”

The shoulder you landed on throbbed painfully but the ringing in your head from listening to disembodied voices you didn’t recognize was worse. Curling up into a ball, you clamped your hands onto your ears to cancel out the harsh noise but it was to no avail. A plethora of negative thoughts filled your mind only to be dispelled by a familiar soothing voice that overpowered all noise.

“Dearest Client?” You uncovered you ears and uncurled your body only to hit your shoulder on the ground once again causing you to hiss in pain. Warm hands gently lifted you up and you jerked from the sudden movement.

“Shhh it’s alright, Miss. My name is Chrollo Lucilfer and I’ll be making you happy from now on.”

“B-but my sight…my gift—” The soft bed surprised you as he sat you down on the edge. “W-what are you—”

His hands cupped both cheeks and turned your head forward. “I’m sorry about your gift but I promise I’ll use it well.”

“W-what…how did…I-I don’t—”

“Stay still for me…please.” You were captivated by the gentle firmness of his voice and did as he asked.

When the meaning behind his words hit, you wondered if your gift would even work in your current state. Before you could voice your doubts, however, the darkness that enveloped you turned lighter and lighter until it was a white void you would recognize anywhere. Splashes of color materialized until they formed your last creation—the junkyard city.

“This…made you happy?”

Seeing Chrollo again made your heart swell and you ran to him wanting nothing more than to see his features up close. You took in his disheveled black hair, pale skin, and pools of grey and teared up from simply being able to see another person once again. Raising your hand, you touched his cheek and gasped from how real it felt being on the receiving end of the fantasy.

“Amazing…I-I can’t bel—”

Chrollo’s hand shot out and pulled you into his chest while his arms wrapped around your frail form possessively. His scent and warmth assaulted your senses making your head spin but Chrollo only tightened his hold pressing against your skin harshly. Overwhelmed by the sensations pulsating through your body, you clung to Chrollo not knowing what else to do.

“You’re mine now,” his voice rumbled against the sensitive skin of your neck. “I’ll be your eyes from now on.”

A chill ran up your spine as Chrollo’s mouth trailed kisses up your neck to your mouth. An uncomfortable knot started to build in your stomach as his tongue probed your mouth and pressed against yours. You gave Chrollo free reign over your body not because you reciprocated his desire but because you didn’t know any better.

Your entire existence revolved around pleasing others, so when your tainted fantasy ends and you return to your dark reality; you learn to accept your new role. Moving forward whenever Chrollo visits your room, you continue to let him do whatever he wants to your body by convincing yourself that it’s his happiness that is most important. So when he leaves you naked and trembling with a dull ache between your legs, your mind does what it has always done best—it makes things up to help you cope with your miserable life.

#chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #hxh #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #hunter x hunter #hxh fanfic #chrollo fanfic #chrollo scenario #chrollo imagine #hxh imagines #hxh scenarios #yandere chrollo #tw: dubcon #tw: imprisonment #navs.hxh

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dreams, Chapter 15

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 15

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3310

Summary: The reader and Sam take an irrevocable step forward.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w b u r n, this section is emotional smut

The drive home felt electric and giddy and nauseatingly tense, like driving back from prom with a little foil packet burning a hole in your pocket. It had been delicious agony working through the rest of the shift on stolen hand grazes and smirks across the length of the bar, suspense winding in your throat, especially wearing Sam’s shirt, the incredible scent of him floating around you in a halo every time you moved. Now that it was so close you didn’t know what to do with it. At the very least, Sam didn’t seem to either as you noticed him swallowing far more often than he needed to and cranking the stereo. He drove fast, almost like—no, don’t think that, not right now—and you watched for deer on the sides of the road partly to keep from getting into an accident and partly for something to distract even a fraction of your mind from the way Sam’s lips had felt on yours when he had finally let go, how they must feel everywhere else.

When he pulled into the driveway, you both sat still in the front seat for a beat of silence.

“I’m—uh, I’m going to take a shower,” Sam said, looking toward your side of the car but not quite meeting your eyes.

“Yeah, okay, good idea,” you answered. You were still sticky with the broken-keg-beer from hours ago and a shower sounded divine, but you knew saying something about getting cleaned up too wouldn’t land right in the charge of this moment. The two of you awkwardly walked inside, a movement you’d done so many times that suddenly felt so unfamiliar it was a little spooky. Sam ducked into the shower without another word and you didn’t know what to do in your own house.

Digging through your clothes, you finally found a matching bra and panty set you hadn’t worn in…you stopped yourself from thinking about exactly how long. It was black and lacy but in a sort of sensible way; probably wouldn’t have been fancy for a person who didn’t usually buy her undergarments with durability and lack of movement while running and fighting in mind, but it was what you had and it certainly seemed like a more appropriate thing to wear than one of the old t-shirts of Dean’s you normally changed into after work. You bit your lip and beat back a moment of frustrated nerves, imagining the extremely awkward put-on seduction of walking through the cabin in just the set, and grabbed a black tank top and yoga pants out too, bundling all the garments together.

Sam walked into the bedroom with a towel slung sinfully low on his hips, and the sight made your breath catch in your throat. The tension required to hold the terry in place flexed one pec as a few droplets of water shook loose from his hair and slid down it.

You grabbed the bundle of clothes in your hand and gestured behind him. “My turn.”

Sam nodded, side stepping to let you out of the doorway.

It was a longer shower than you’d taken in a long time, going over your legs obsessively with the dullish disposable razor you’d been using and washing your hair twice to make sure to get any residual beer out of it. Finally you knew you couldn’t keep stalling and got out, running a palm of lotion over your body and putting on the black set, yoga pants, and tank top. You turned your head over to flip your hair a few times, hoping for a little more volume and a little less wet rat, and wished that you’d had some kind of perfume or something, had held onto anything from back when you thought things like that had a point, when you cared about being enticing. How glamorous, all this old cotton and dripping hair for what felt like a monumental turning point. No time to think about that now. You threw your towel up on the rack and headed back to the bedroom.

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his ankles, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, bare feet tapping on the floor. Something about knowing that he had gotten re-dressed and not even in the old sweats he normally slept in, had thought about it for at least a moment, made you feel better. His head snapped up when you walked in. “H-hey,” he breathed.

“Hey.” You noticed he’d straightened the already made up bed and taken the pictures of Dean off the wall, neatly stacked on the dresser in the corner of the room.

When Sam saw your eyes linger on the spot they had been, he opened his mouth. A small shake of your head stopped him from saying anything and you sat beside him. “So.”

Sam chuckled. “So.”

“I feel like we just got shut in a closet to play 7 minutes in heaven.”

“I know I said I’m ready but we don’t have to—”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Sorry, I just—I haven’t felt this nervous in a long time.”

“Me neither.”

You flopped back on the bed, feeling your wet hair fan out a touch around you and looking up at the ceiling. The mattress shifted under Sam’s weight when he laid back next to you, and after a beat you turned to your side, propping up your head on one palm and feeling the oppressive sparks of the moment burn into your skin, heat your cheeks. “There are so many times I could’ve said this, Sam, but you saved my life. I don’t kn—there’s just no way I would’ve made it by myself.”

He dipped his head toward you, the low light casting a severe shadow off of his jaw and highlighting the contrast between the concentric rings of green-blue-honey in his eyes. “I could say the same to you.” You waited a second, dragging your eyes down the high slope of his cheekbone and counting the tiny dots of stubble where its gradient began on his cheek.

Slowly, you tipped yourself over him, looping one leg over his waist and placing a hand above each of his shoulders on the mattress. Feeling the heat of his body between your thighs made you feel a bit lightheaded and the way Sam was looking up at you didn’t help, eyes bright and hopeful and a touch awestruck like a true believer listening to a sermon. Big hands floated to your hips, light as anything but each fingertip was rooting you together, connecting you as irrevocably as welded iron. You poured forward into him, stopping a few inches from his face. “I’m—” you started.

“I love you,” Sam stammered, looking almost surprised when it tumbled out of his mouth, but you caught it between you and breathed it back into him, catching his lips and holding back the groan you wanted to release at their softness, somehow even better than the memory you’d been amplifying in your head all night. You kissed him like a prayer, like saying thank you over and over again for the things he knew you wanted to acknowledge and for all the things he didn’t, every single dried teardrop and gummy worm a pass of your lips against his. One hand moved to your lower back, pressing you together while the other spun through the wet hair at the nape of your neck, thumb cradling the sensitive skin behind your ear and brushing softly back from it, a tiny affection you might not have noticed if everything about this moment wasn’t so amplified.

When you nipped gently at his lower lip, Sam made a sound close to a whimper deep in his throat before slipping his tongue against yours and drinking you in. He shifted his hips underneath you and used the hands on your back to guide you easily to the mattress, taking care not to place you on top of your hair. You wound your fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him closer to you until you were pressed against the full firm stretch of his torso. As you passed your fingers under the hem, Sam leaned back for a second to tug behind his collar and toss the shirt to the ground in one fluid motion, coming back to lay a trail of kisses down the hinge of your jaw and neck, light suction on the exact spot it sloped into collarbone. It was your turn to get out of your tank top; the moment of widened pupils at the reveal dissolved the nerves you’d had about the lace and gave you the confidence to hook your legs around Sam’s hips and drag him as tightly to you as his jeans would allow.

He slipped tentative fingertips into the waistband of the yoga pants and you parted to let him shimmy them off of your legs, surprised when a tear almost welled in your eyes at the kiss he pressed into the side of your calf—an impulsive reflex betraying Sam’s affection. You sat up, tried to unbutton the worn cotton of his jeans, and realized your hands were shaking. He took your face delicately in his hands and kissed you, soft as anything, and it was Sam, person you knew best in this world, who’d saved your life over and over and over again; if you couldn’t trust him, then who could you trust? The moment was enough to settle you, button coming undone smoothly. He eased off the bed without breaking contact with your lips to shake them off, tipping you onto the mattress delicately when his legs were bare. Arching your back to unhook your bra, you shucked it off carelessly into the depth of the room. Sam raked his eyes over your body and you tried not to shy away from it. “I—uh—are we going to be okay?” he whispered low into the space between you.

“I think so,” you answered, and it was as much affirmation as you could give, because truthfully you didn’t know. It felt right but your instincts had been wrong before. You wished more than anything that you could’ve kept the sexually charged impulsivity in the bar’s cooler earlier that night, when you were moving on instinct and need and didn’t have time to analyze.

But Sam was so beautiful, so present and real, almost too warm under your touch, and you reminded yourself that he was the only real thing in your life. He brushed a stray piece of still-damp hair back from your face before bending to his knees on the side of the bed. You got up to your elbows and watched passively as he took the rest of your lace off, leaving you completely exposed save for the cover of his kiss on your inner thigh. Swallowing hard, you felt your lips part as you watched the long muscles of his back pull taut when he moved you to the edge of the bed. The hot breath between your legs was enough to make you see stars around Sam’s head like a halo and then he swirled his tongue around your clit softly, almost too softly, just enough to make you feel hungry with desire. A whine passed your lips and you barely even registered it, so focused on watching the precise even muscles in Sam’s jaw flex and ripple against his cheek, matching them to the mazes he was drawing into you. Wrapping an arm around your thigh to hold you in place, Sam flicked his gaze up for confirmation as he snaked an arm under you, sucking two fingers with his eyes locked on yours before gliding them inside you.

You gasped creakily as he hook-pressed, the strength of his hands feeling familiar if the feeling wasn’t, tugging out sweet sin rooted deep in your gut. It wound you into a tight coil ready to crack with tensile strength, cables of a centuries old suspension bridge rattling through every muscle in your body. With your back arching into the mattress, Sam lapped and swirled and spoke tongues into you, sturdy latch on your thigh until it was absolutely too much, sent you snapping into a thousand sparking live wires around him as you tried to steady yourself with handfuls of duvet. When you had enough of your wits back about you, you slipped your hands through the drying silk of Sam’s hair and guided him back up, kissing the taste of yourself off of his lips, his chin. Sam laid against you unfurling his body like a scroll, the heavy length of his cock grazing your thigh through his boxers. You gently push-pulled his shoulders to flip him onto on his back, a dazed smile on his face when you licked a stripe down his chest and lightly ran your teeth over a nipple. His chest heaved once when you brushed against his cock and then his breathing went shallow. With your mouth centimeters from his skin, you met his eyes. “Is this still okay?”

“Y-yeah, yes—yeah,” he said, way too fast to pretend at any semblance of nonchalance, more than fast enough to send you grinning as you tugged the elastic down his hips slowly and caught the weight of him in your palm, hot and crystallized beneath a shimmering drop of precum that you lapped reflexively, drawing a sharp inhale from Sam. Now it was your turn to swirl, rolling the head around your tongue sloppily before taking the first few inches of him into your mouth and sucking against a spinning hand until you built a rhythm. His head rolled back into the bed and he closed his eyes, letting them fly open only when you eased the full length of his cock into your throat slowly, willing your muscles to relax around him and relishing the fuzzy blown-out look in his eyes. You let the withdrawal drag, slipping frictionlessly over his now dripping cock as spit flowed through the gaps between your fingers. Sucking along the underside before taking him down again, you could feel the muscles in his abdomen starting to tense and pulled off, kissing a hip bone before straddling Sam and guiding him inside you carefully.

To his constant credit—as though there was anything you wouldn’t give him credit for—Sam held perfectly still as you stretched around him. It had been so long, and he probably would’ve been a challenge even if it hadn’t been years since these muscles had been flexed. The knowledge that it would calm down pushed you through the almost-tearing feeling you had, finally resting an inch or two above being flush together and taking a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, cheeks pink and eyebrows showing his concern even as the tendons in his neck flexed with restraint.

“Yeah, I just—out of practice,” you answered with a sheepish smirk. He traced down the sides of your thighs with velvet fingertips like a metronome until your body relaxed around him and you began to slide and grind against Sam in earnest.

He half-raised himself to meet your lips, curving you down so he could kiss you as you moved together. For the second time that night, he took you in his arms and turned you onto the bed, deftly switching your positions without disconnecting from you. His hand still cradled your head protectively while he touched his forehead to yours. Twin exhales mixing in the slowly humidifying air between you, there were so many things you wanted to say but none of the words you could think of felt like enough to encompass the comfort-love-grief-thanks-apology. All you could do was kiss him.

The two of you fit together exactly and you cupped the back of Sam’s neck as he rocked into you. Weight supported on one hand, he swept a thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down, touching his lips to your forehead, and taking a deep breath of your hair. Such a clear punctuation on his tenderness swelled up hard in your throat and you had to gulp hard to settle it, concentrating instead on the heat pooling in your core through Sam’s deliberate movements. The crescendo reached a fever pitch when he slid a hand to the small of your back and tilted your hips justrightjustlikethat, pressure drilling right into that perfect spot and after a few seconds it was all you could do to throw your head back into the mattress and crack in half.

Sam sucked at your jugular while you fell to pieces and in other circumstances you might’ve been worried about walking around like a teenager with a hickey, but all you could think of was him around you, inside you, on you, and you wanted as much as you could get. Tugging at his hair and latching your legs around his hips in frantic reflex shoved him over the edge, muscles in his back rippling under your other hand and sweat glistening over the expanse of his neck as it rolled back. He eased off of you, laid down beside you, and wrapped you up in his arms.

A few hot tears dropped to the bedspread and almost surprised you but didn’t seem to phase Sam, who just tightened his embrace so your cheek rested on the slope of his chest. Time stopped as you lay there, having disappeared between the fissures of reality and straight into Sam. You resisted the impulse to think too much. It was enough to be there, feel the mist of sweat and freshly washed hair cooling into the ether, the comforting heat of Sam’s body where he draped over you. After your muscles resolidified you turned up and kissed him once, more to check in than anything else.

“So…what now?” you asked, voice sounding muffled and weird after the long silence.

Sam smiled looking fatigued and content and nervous all at the same time. “Well, we haven’t been struck down yet. Are you tired?”

It was likely close to 4 or 5 in the morning but sleeping felt like a trap—with all the information you’d gathered about the dreams, it seemed like if you didn’t have one about Dean tonight then you’d both severely misjudged what was happening, which then put the legitimacy or ‘blessing’ of this new relationship with Sam in jeopardy. But it wasn’t like you could stay up forever. And maybe everything would be fine, maybe you could still have your cake and eat it too by staying with Dean at night and carrying on during the days with Sam, holding his hand and starting to see beauty again through its reflection on his face.

You brushed your teeth in the bathroom mirror together after throwing on the first t-shirt you found, trying not to put too much stock into it when it ended up being Dean’s Poison one with the tear on the left shoulder. It felt right, natural still to be sharing even this little space with Sam, and that had to mean something. He didn’t even look twice at the shirt but was only wearing boxers, having foregone the flannel pants and/or t shirt he normally wore to bed. You weren’t complaining.

Cuddling up next to Sam didn’t feel odd as it probably should have so long ago. The only differences were the interlacing of his fingers into yours as he covered your lower ribcage with his hand and the way he tucked his chin into your neck as he folded around you. “I—Sam?” you whispered.

“Mm?”

“I’m—uh, just. Thank you.”

Sam didn’t react for a beat, considering or waiting for you to continue you didn’t know. He simply pressed his lips to your stretched-out collar and melted so that his body sunk into yours. It didn’t take you as long as you might’ve thought to fall asleep.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 16

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lazyneonrabbitt · 3 years

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Night shifts.

Daryl Dixon x Reader Werewolf AU

You are new to the prison and Rick takes you on your first night watch shift. When something catches your eye he sends you after it. When you wake up the next morning you discover things you would have never guessed were real.

Running from walkers was not how you wanted to spend your first week alone after months of being with a group and to be fair, you were done. You were close to passing out from dehydration when you made it out of the forest lines and onto a highway, spotting a gas station to hole up in only a minute away. running in and barricading the door with your last bit of energy, you passed out almost immediately after.

"Hey, we're here!" Glenn called out to Maggie when they passed the treelines and went onto the highway where Rick had sent them. "That old place? Are you sure there's stuff left in there?" Maggie wasn't sure about it all but at least there weren't any walkers around it it'd be easy to check out and be gone without wasting too much time. They tried the main doors but they wouldn't budge, like they were locked down from the inside so they went around to check for another entrance. With a little effort they managed to take down the door in the back and went in to scope out the place and listening in for any walkers and finding none. They felt relieved when there wasn't a fight to prepare for and started digging through what was left of the supplies in the back room, making their way to the front, towards the blocked front exit. As they expected they found nothing useful in the small gas station, but when they rounded past the last supply rack they found something they weren't expecting.

"You think she's alive?" Glenn wondered, slowly stepping forward to check for any injuries but found none. "I don't know, doesn't look like she's turning so I guess not." Maggie replied as Glenn was already close enough to shake her. As he did so, she jolted awake and unsure of anything that was going on. Maggie had her gun readied at her side and Glenn moved back to a safe distance. "What the hell?" Was all you could groggily manage to speak. The two of them asked you a few questions that you barely managed to answer and were given some water when you regained enough consciousness to move at least somewhat well again. Thanking them you asked why they were here and they explained they were just looking for supplies and the place seemed to be abandoned. "We could ask you the same, though." Glenn chimed in. You told them your story of being alone and running from walkers for a while before eventually ending up here and passing out, how you hadn't eaten anything all day and drank your last bit of water this morning.

When they finished clearing the place, Glenn and Maggie agreed to take you with them to the prison where their group lived. On the way there, which took longer than their way to the gas station, seeing what state you were in, they mostly kept quiet about their current living environment even with you asking questions every now and then. It was close to nightfall when you all arrived at the prison and you were stopped by a man in a sheriff's hat. Immediately on you and not letting you take another step onto the property after answering his questions. He sat you down and talked to Maggie and see what info she had on you ans so she repeated everything you had told her, getting approving nods from Glenn who was keeping an eye on you while also reassuring you Rick was less scary than he currently came off as.

After all the talking you were allowed to stay under constant surveillance. This only lasted a week, after which you were allowed to roam around on your own and were set on shared watch with Rick so he could teach you all their ways in case walkers would breach the fence. During the early hours of the night nothing much happened and you had to admit the view of the forest edge looked nice under the moonlight. From time to time you heard a walker rustling through nearby bushes but Rick reassured you to was nothing to worry about until they would start to pile up on the fence. After a long stretch of silence you saw something run across the field and you shoved Rick's shoulder to make sure he'd see it as well. The moment he looked it ran out of sight towards the other side of the building before emerging on the other end again after a short moment. This time Rick saw it as well and sent you towards the fences to go check it out. You ran from the watch tower towards the edge to check out whatever it was that you saw but you couldn't get a clear look at it so after a minute of walking back and forth across fence you decided to go through them, you were armed after all.

The thing was near the treeline and wandering around, seemingly not noticing you watching it. When it ran off you were so intrigued that you followed it out into the woods, not giving a single thought to what you were even following or all the other dangers out there. you followed the thing for a while, getting a better look at it and seeing it resembled a large dog of some sort. Honestly it only reminded you of your favorite monster movies you always watched back in the day, but that was all just suits and CGI. You loved those movies, zombie movies were cool as well until you suddenly all started living in one of course. But that was different, right?? No way other monsters were real as well. you weren't gonna run into a group of murderous vampires living as cannibals, but this creature in front of you did look an awful lot like a werewolf, and not even a small one. while it was hunched over and on all-fours it still reached almost to your shoulders.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't watch your step and tripped over a branch, causing the creature to jump up and tread towards you. As you got up you couldn't take your eyes off it, afraid it would jump you so you backed up until you hit a tree. You were stuck between a large tree with no branches to climb onto, and a huge, murderous, and now that you saw it up close, clearly werewolf.It snarled at you, getting closer to sniff the air and snapping its teeth at you only an inch away from your face.This was gonna end bad.

Back at the prison, Rick was slapped across the shoulder by Maggie. "Did you really just sent the new girl after him? Are you insane?" She whisper-yelled at him. She had been awake and saw you run into the woods after he had snuck out. "Trust me, if you saw how he's always starin' at her, you'd do the same thing. He's not gonna hurt her." The two of them discussed their views for a while with Maggie being totally against the whole idea and Rick feeling like he did a great job. "Come on, Maggie. There's no way he's gonna do anything to her. He's been staring at her like a lovesick puppy ever since they first talked." Rick tried to convince her again. "And you have to admit that she tries her hardest to be around him and actually gets along with him pretty well." He was right, Maggie had talked with her from time to time and it was clear that she liked being around him. Whenever she didn't have any tasks for the day she'd always tag along on hunts with him and she'd be the first one at the gate when he would return from an early morning run to see if he needed to be stitched up. "Fine, I'll give ya this round. But if she gets hurt, you are the one who tells everyone what happened." She jabbed her finger at Rick's chest to make her point that much more clear and returned to watch the horizon for any movement.

Both stared into the distance in peace until they caught movement out in the field. "See? Told you I was right!" Rick called out while Maggie grabbed a pair of binoculars to get a closer look. "That's not a deer in his mouth, Rick." She spoke softly as she shoved the binoculars into his chest, urging him to take a look. It was indeed him who was walking back onto the property, probably on his way to his usual hideout. He followed his steps and tried to focus on what he was carrying that according to Maggie wasn't a deer. "Oh shit." He let out as he lowered the item and rushed off the stairs towards the abandoned back of the building. When he rounded the last corner he had almost caught un with them and saw him now carefully placing you down in the emptied shed, on top of the cloths they had put there for when he'd turn back. The pile of clothes neatly folded next to the door. He deemed the situation as safe and left back to the guard tower to finish his shift.

You woke up before the sun started coming up and were shocked to find out you weren't in the woods anymore. Truth be told you couldn't remember what happened. The creature snapped at you, looking like it was ready to chow down on you and then everything went black. Taking in your surroundings you learned you were in some kind of shed, you were on a pile of fabric and there was a pile of clothes, illuminated by the moonlight near the open entrance. Trying to get up you learned that it wasn't a heavy blanket that was on you, but an extended arm draped over your waist coming from behind you. You quietly wiggled out from underneath the arm and went to investigate. Your first move was to go outside and look where you were. You were at the prison, but on a side of the building you had never been before. After being sure you were at least somewhat safer than you expected you went back inside, passing the pile of clothes again and decided to take a look. There was a pair of boots, a larger size so you assumed they were a guy's, together with some torn and patched up jeans and a shirt with sleeves torn at different lengths. Taking away at the pile one piece at a time, you found something that you immediately recognised. "Daryl?" You said out loud upon seeing his winged leather vest. A low growl came from behind you. You had been so focused on the clothes that you hadn't realised you might had woken up the slumbering beast.

You got up and ran without thinking of it and ended up cornered within seconds, Daryl's vest still clasped tightly to your chest. Eyes wide, you couldn't cast your gaze away from the creature in front of you. Now, on its hindlegs you were able to fully take in it's size. You were even more terrified than before in the forest, this time there was really no way out. You dropped to your knees, hugging the vest of your dear friend closely and cried, begging for someone to hear you and come save you but no sound other than sobs left you. You saw the light shift in your vision and carefully looked up, seeing that your cabin partner had now sat down and was staring at you. Blue eyes staring right into yours before getting back up and crawling underneath the pile of blankets in the corner, completely covering itself except for its tail poking from underneath it all. Every time you tried to take a step closer you were growled at, louder each time until you gave up and sat back down in the furthest corner. Eyes trained on the pile, you saw every small movement that happened and every breath the beast took. Its breathing became heavier and now started to get louder and snarls and growls would come out more and more until another sound broke your concentration and had you jump up a little. It sounded like a bone snapping in half, joined with other nasty snapping and tearing sounds. The pile moved but you couldn't make out what was going on as you covered your ears, trying to block out the gruesome noises until everything stopped moving and the shape beneath the piles had shrunk to half its size. All you heard now was breathing like someone had just ran from a herd of walkers. While everything seemed safe, you were too afraid to move from your spot so you stayed. Sitting there with Daryl's vest still in your hands you waited for the sun to come up and go find your group again. You companion's breathing had evened out and you assumed they'd fallen asleep again. Gathering all your courage you creeped closer to the pile and took in its shape, making out the shape of a person and carefully taking the first blanket away, sadly not revealing anything. The next one only uncovered an arm, lazily thrown over what you assumed was a head still covered in blankets. You sat there contemplating your next move. Were you going to take away another layer or were you gonna leave this one alone and let them wake up in peace?

Yeah, you were seeing who it was that terrorised you throughout the entire night. Taking a deep breath you took the edge of the next fabric and carefully lifted it, but before you could get a look your wrist was grabbed tightly and you were thrown on your back with whoever it was over you, snarling and ready to attack. You let out a surprised yelp as you were thrown down. At least now you could get a good look at who it was, and it wasn't who you expected to see. "Daryl?" You sighed, on one hand relieved he wasn't killed like you thought before when you found his vest. On the other hand completely out of it now that you figured out his probably biggest secret. Did others know about this place? Did they know about him and weren't they afraid?

Keeping your eyes on his you had to try your hardest not to let them wander off when you remembered he was in fact still very naked. "Please," You quietly pleaded. "get dressed.." You mumbled as you covered your eyes with your free arm, making sure you wouldn't see anything and trying to make him feel maybe less uncomfortable.He grumbled something you couldn't make out before you felt him move off you and heard rustling of clothes. "Where's mah vest?" You heard him ask and moved a bit only to feel it underneath you. Sitting up you slowly moved your arm away from your face and relaxed when you saw Daryl was dressed enough to be less distracting at least. When you were about to get up to hand him his vest, he'd walked across the shed and sat down in front of you like he did earlier tonight before he has changed back. "M'sorry." It wasn't much but it was enough for now.

You handed him his vest and stayed quiet for the most part. Not knowing what to say and what could set him off like when you woke him up scared you enough to not talk to him at all except for answering his questions or comments. It took a while for the two of you to get comfortable around each other enough to go out on a morning hunt but after words could be exchanged well enough to make a plan you were good to go. You left through Daryl's secret way out and started tracking a deer that had walked close to the forest's edge. Closing in on it you came across the spot where he had you cornered and almost attacked you, causing you to stop in your tracks and freeze up all of a sudden. The area was nothing special, just a small spot with no low bushes and some large trees. The thing that set you off were the claw marks that were now as clear as day on a lot of the surrounding trees, showing just how much strength was behind those claws. You didn't hear Daryl call for you and you didn't realise he had taken down the deer by now without much of your help in the end. "Hey," He called again, not getting a reply and put a hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. "Ya alright there?" He looked concerned at first, but there was something else underneath. You shook your head to get out of your daze. "Yeah I'm good. Sorry." You apologised without really knowing what there was to apologise for. You didn't even realise you had frozen that bad. Daryl looked around him and only now really connected the dots. He let out a sigh as he walked over to you, showing you his hand. "S'normal again now. See?" He held his hand up, turning it so you could get a good look. "I aint hurtin' ya." It was more than just a statement to him. This was a promise he was going to keep no matter what would happen from now on. You accepted his words and agreed to move back to the prison with your freshly hunted deer.

After you both finished your morning routines, Daryl walked over to your cell, asking you to follow him outside. The two of you walked back to the shed behind the building and sat down to talk properly this time. It wasn't that you were scared anyone, it was more of an anxious 'what if' feeling that kept gnawing at your thoughts. How were you gonna be sure he wouldn't get angry at a wrong question or what if you couldn't agree with something he insisted was right? "Hey," was all he said to get you out of your thoughts again. "Yer almost panicking here. Ya still scared of me." It wasn't a question but more of a statement and truth be told, he was right after all. You were scared of your friend and you had no idea how to change that. You didn't want to be but the feeling was still there, it kept eating at you that there was a chance that you'd do something wrong enough for him to snap. Being unable to stop those thoughts, the tears joined rapidly after. You didn't know what t say or how to even stop crying but you knew that letting out the emotions was a good way to show that you had no clue how to handle all of this and needed the help. Daryl wasn't sure what exactly to do but he knew that touching you wasn't going to help. He had brought his pack and dug around for some leftovers that he didn't finish before turning last night and offered what he found. You accepted the food and kept in in your lap, being unable to eat anything while you were still crying. You mumbled a thankyou and moved over to Daryl, dropping yourself onto him and letting him know you were okay with him getting closer and you weren't afraid of him touching you when he wasn't angry. Daryl was surprised with this turn of events, it was a turn for the better at least. "Can ya tell me what's up? Cus' this shows ya ain't scared of this me at least." He didn't want to pry but he had to get at least something out of you now that you had some privacy. You were still softly sobbing but it had gotten less already. Taking deep breaths helped to calm down, and having Daryl's arms around you now in a protective manner was really getting rid of most of your fear. "You scared me last night." This was the first time Daryl had to go through something like this. Yes, he had to tell others in the group about his issue and it ended in Rick almost shooting him during a full moon before Daryl saved his life, and Carol hadn't spoken to him for days after she saw him turned but she came to his cell on her own to apologise and accept him for what he was. He also hadn't attacked either of them. Not that he really touched you, but he scared you enough for you to pass out, and again afterwards in the shed enough to make you cry almost twice.

"I ain't hurtin' ya, ever." He said again, hoping to convince both you and himself because truthfully he had no idea if he was ever going to hurt her if he wasn't in control."I like you. This is all new." Small sentences were your way to go for now and Daryl accepted that immediately. He nodded and hummed in approval of your confession, hugging you a bit closer and moving to sit more comfortable. "I like ya too. Tha's why ya ended up in that shed." You let out a huff of laughter at that, making it sound like he had some other plans if you hadn't passed out. "Ya I was gonna tell ya all this, but now ya saw everythin' already.." He wanted to talk, but he had no clue where to go at all, nothing that he wanted to say felt like the right words so he opted for a question. "Wha'cha think of all this?" He motioned at the shed and the cleared off area and himself as well, hoping that your answer would spark some more conversation and solutions.

Sighing, you thought hard about your words. Some things popped into your head and before you could lose your thought again you spoke. "I'm good with it. You're good and you're you and you kept me safe, you know." He did know. He knew he kept you safe last night, but the words that hit him the hardest were the ones no one had told him before. He was still him, even if he looked different or had a second nature that could be dangerous, he was still him. "Thanks for tha', girlie." You were regaining your smile and laughed. "Yeah, my friend's a dog. what's your story huh." You joked laughing out loud. It was a sound Daryl had heard before when you and Carol were on tasks together and laugher would fill the prison hall. He couldn't get enough of it.

"So, yer okay with bein' here with me? Gotta admit ya kept me calm last night." He now wasn't looking at you but at the ground and you were sure you could see a small blush creep up on his face. "Daryl," You turned in his lap so you could look at his face properly. You took his face in your hands to make sure he wasn't going to look away. "I'll stay with you for as long as you need." You made your statement as clear as you could possibly make it, hoping he'd understand everything behind those words. "Hell, I'm just gonna say this now before I lose the courage.." You took a last deep breath and just went for it. "I've kinda wanted to ask you if you'd want me as your girlfriend, but all of this happened before I got a chance to but you have to know I still want that, even after learning all of this."

Now it was Daryl's turn to laugh happily and pull you close to him, nuzzling your cheek and accepting your request with more glee than you had ever seen on him. "I love ya." He admitted finally, kissing your cheek to not overstep his boundaries in true Daryl fashion.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #twd #twd x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #twd daryl #imagine #x reader #twd fanfiction #fanfic #sometimes I write

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Prince

Spot’s surprised to find that Brooklyn has a new newsie joining its ranks, a boy he calls Prince who came to his turf from Queens. The only problem is that there may be more to Prince than meets the eye, like the fact that he isn’t a boy but instead Jack Kelly’s sister who ran away from Manhattan.

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Spot stands at the outskirts of the main room of the lodging house, leaning idly against a wall. It’s been a long, hard day, and he wants nothing more than to go to bed and forget everything that happened. Despite his whole ‘King of Brooklyn’ reputation as a ruthless leader, people tend to forget that Spot’s still a teenager. His unfazed glare is just a facade; behind it, someone still struggles to grow up too fast in a world that needs him to do the work of five just to survive.

A voice shouts out from behind him. “Hey, Spot! Got someone new here. They think they want to sell papes with us.” Spot waves a hand at the approaching figure without looking. “We already got enough mouths to feed.” The voice shouts back. “This one can pay! They was a newsie from Queens, and they got the pennies to prove it.” This piques Spot’s interest, and he turns around to see Snaps, one of the many Brooklyn newsies, approaching. There’s another boy not far behind him.

Spot fixes the newcomer with a piercing gaze. To be honest, he’s not sure how he feels about this guy. He’s already got a newsie cap, but it’s pulled low over their forehead to hide their face. They don’t look Spot in the eyes, as if they’re afraid of something. Fear isn’t something Brooklyn newsies should even know about.

“Who are you, and why did you leave Queens to come to Brooklyn? Don’t you know we’re tougher than any of youse?” The boy just shrugs. “Queens got boring. Figured I wouldn’t have that problem here.” Spot stares for a moment longer, then breaks into a short laugh. “Okay, I like this kid. Welcome to Brooklyn.”

Spot gestures for the newcomer to follow him. “Come on. Bunks is in here. This one’s empty, that’ll work for you. You used to be a newsie in Queens, so I assume you know the rules. Get up and ready by the circulation bell. Sell your papes and don’t take no for an answer. You already eaten tonight?” The new boy nods, and Spot raps his knuckles distractedly against the bunk before starting to head out. “Stay up however late you want. The rest of us will head out in an hour or so.”

You’ve done it. You really just did it. You’re now a Brooklyn newsie. It had taken everything you had to go through with your plan, even though you’d been thinking it through for weeks. Get up with the other Manhattan newsies like usual, pretend you were just going through a normal day. When the other boys leave, you pack your bag, dress up like a boy, and head over to Brooklyn, making sure you’re not seen on the way there. You say you’re from Queens, they let you in. End of story.

Only, that’s not really the truth. Yes, you’d been a newsie before, but only barely. You were great at selling papes, that wasn’t the problem. No, the real obstacle standing between you and surviving on the streets of Manhattan was your brother. Jack Kelly.

See, Jack seemed to have some sort of old-fashioned idea that girls couldn’t- or shouldn’t- sell papes. Every time you tried to head out with the other newsies, he’d stretch out an arm in front of you with that same skeptical look on his face. You can almost hear his voice now. “And where do you think you’re going?” You always said the same thing. “Out to sell papes like anyone else.” You had tried to argue that you had to support yourself in some way, that it wasn’t fair that the other Manhattan boys had to slave away on the streets while you just sat around all day, but Jack wouldn’t hear a word. He’d make you stay at the lodging house, off the streets and out of trouble, or at least according to him.

You knew that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he was just trying to protect you. Jack felt guilty that his own sister would have to be selling papes right beside him, and he figured that as long as you didn’t have to do the same exhausting work you would be fine. However, you were sick of it. You could sell papes just as well as him, and you were tired of being nothing more than an afterthought. That’s why you decided to run away to Brooklyn. It was the last place Jack would look for you, and it would finally give you a chance to sell papes and really earn your spot alongside the other newsies.

You think your disguise had worked, but you still stay up late until you’re sure all of the other Brooklyn newsies are asleep before slipping out of bed and out of the window to stand on one of the fire escapes. You pull off your newsboy cap, reaching up to remove every last pin tying your hair in place and carefully slipping them into your pocket. You run your hands through your hair, sighing in relief. There’s a bandage wrapping around your chest to make your figure seem like more of a boy’s, but you’re able to take that off from underneath your shirt, wrapping it idly around your hands.

You stare out at the Brooklyn skyline before you. It’s funny- it’s the same city as Manhattan, same area of land. Yet it looks so different. It seems to promise possibilities, a future where you’re finally able to step out of Jack’s ever looming shadow. It’s your turn now, your turn to live and dream just as fervently as you wish. You sigh quietly, peaceful at last, then tear your gaze away from the city and head back inside. You pull the threadbare blankets close around you, curling up for a night’s rest.

You get up early the next morning before everyone else, taking care to rewrap your chest and repin your hair before people can see you. You’re not sure how long your disguise will hold out, but hopefully long enough that people will trust you and look the other way if they see something odd about you.

Across the city, the circulation bell starts ringing. The other boys have woken up at this point, and you all confidently head towards the Brooklyn Newsies Square. You form a line with the rest of the newsies. As you reach the front of the line, though, your heart starts to pound with panic. Handing out the papes are none other than Oscar and Morris, the Delancey brothers! There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll recognize you. They knew the newsies, and they’ll know you. This is it- you haven’t even been here a day and your plan is already over.

You slap your quarter down in the box, asking for a set of 50 papers. Oscar starts to reach for the papes, then he turns and squints at you suspiciously. “Wait, you look familiar. You’re not from Brooklyn, but I’ve seen you before.” You find you can’t say anything, just look at him like a deer in headlights. What do you do now?

You’re saved when the newsie who’d introduced you last night, Snaps, comes up behind you, casually slinging an arm around your shoulders. “That’s ‘cause this newbie came from Queens. You probably saw them there.” You nod, grateful when Oscar shrugs and turns away, handing you your papes with an expression that makes it clear that he could not care less about you.

You wait for Snaps to get his papes, that flash him an appreciative smile. “Thanks for that. Gotta say, the one thing I was hoping to leave behind in Queens was the Delanceys. Looks like I’m not that lucky.” Snaps just grins. “No one’s lucky enough to avoid the Delanceys. They’re like the flu- show up everywhere.”

Snaps turns to you with a sudden frown. “You know, I just realized that you don’t have a nickname.” You look at him, confused. “Do I need one?” Snaps throws his hands in the air. “Of course you do! Every newsie needs a nickname, even if they’re the King of Queens.” There’s a voice from behind you, and Spot walks up casually next to you.

“Trying to name another newbie? Was the last failure not enough for you?” Snaps groans. “Listen, I’m great at naming people. What about- Kingsy? You know, King of Queens. Like I said.” You can’t help but laugh. “That’s awful. I’d rather just go back to Queens.” Spot nods. “I like the idea, though. What about Prince? It’s still related to Queens, but it’s a level down because there’s only one King in Brooklyn, and that’s me.”

You shrug. “I don’t think I’m going to get anything better, so that sounds alright with me.” You’ve started heading away from Newsies Square, and you realize you don’t have a street assignment. You glance over at Spot. “I thought you said I was going to be following someone so I knew where to sell.” He nods, unconcerned. “Yeah. You’se following me.” You must seem surprised, because he looks over at you and laughs. “Don’t get overwhelmed. I want to see how they’re teaching newsies to sell over in Queens.” You shrug. “Alright, but don’t expect to do that well yourself. I might just steal all your customers.” Snaps laughs at Spot’s mock glare. “I like Prince. We need somebody new to make fun of Spot.”

The newbie actually isn't that bad at selling papes. Sure, Prince might have come from Queens, but to be honest, Spot wasn’t expecting a whole lot. Yet there they are, shouting out embellished headlines like they’ve done it their whole lives. He hates to say it, but Spot might actually be impressed. Before he knows it, it’s the end of the day, and they’ve both sold all of their papes.

That day soon ends, and then the next day, and the next. Spot finds himself actually appreciating Prince. He’s a nice guy, someone who knows when to joke around and when to sell papes and be serious. Before long, Spot realizes he trusts the guy like a second in command, asking him questions about how to make sure Brooklyn sells the most papes and how to keep his boys out of trouble. Prince opens up too, but only gradually. There’s something about that boy that makes Spot think he’s hiding something, maybe the real reason about why he left Queens.

It’s odd- every night, Prince stays up late until he thinks everyone’s fallen asleep, and then he silently gets up and heads out to stand on the balcony. He stays there for a while, maybe ten minutes, and then goes back inside and falls asleep. He gets up early in the mornings, too, repeating the same routine before anyone’s awake enough to see him. Spot doesn’t pay attention to what he does, making sure his eyes are always shut when Prince passes. Spot knows enough about bad memories of the past to know that sometimes boys needing solitude should be left alone and not watched.

About two months after Prince comes to Brooklyn, Spot finds himself standing frustratedly in the little closet of a room he likes to call his office. Jack Kelly, of all people, has come over to pay him a visit. To be honest, he doesn’t really want to have to deal with Kelly. Not today. Yet there the guy is, pacing back and forth in front of him. Spot shakes his head slightly, trying to focus back on the conversation again.

“Look, all I’m asking is if you’ve seen her at all.” Spot holds up a hand, trying to figure out what Kelly’s talking about. “Sorry, who is this? Your sister? You lost your sister?” Jack sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Yeah, my sister. She’s a few months younger than you. I don’t know where she went or why she left, all I know is that she isn’t in ‘Hattan.” Spot raises an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “I can’t blame her. If I had to deal with you as a brother I’d probably leave too.”

At Jack’s glare, Spot rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t seen your sister.” Jack frowns, pursing his lips. “I’ve checked all the other turfs. You’re sure she isn’t here?” Spot fixes Jack with a glare. “Yes, I’m sure. No goils in Brooklyn, least of all Kelly goils.” Spot sees movement in the hall outside, and, desperate for an interruption from this boring conversation, starts to move towards the door. “Here, I’ll ask Prince, just in case. If I don’t know, Prince might.” Spot raises his voice. “Hey, Prince? Get in here.”

Prince, who had been just passing by the door, pops his head in. “Yeah? What’s up?” He casually strides in the room, talking with a relaxed attitude that, for some reason, disappears the second he sees Jack’s turned back. In fact, he seems to freeze in place, some strange fear suddenly appearing in his eyes. The panic’s only there for a moment, though, and it flickers and disappears from his face just as quickly as it came.

Spot gestures towards Jack. “Kelly lost his sister. Have you seen her anywhere?” Prince shakes his head. “No, haven’t seen any sisters. That all?” Spot waves him away, and Prince practically runs out of the room. Spot watches him go with a questioning look, but shakes it away and turns back to Jack. “Look, we don’t have your sister. Can you go back to ‘Hattan now?” Jack nods and leaves, but not before asking Spot to tell him if he sees his sister, Y/N, at all.

Now that Kelly’s left, Spot turns to more pressing issues, mainly the sudden fear in Prince. When Spot leaves the room, he can’t see Prince anywhere, not in the main room or even in his bunk. There’s only one place he would be, the one place he seems to frequent when he’s worried- the roof.

You can’t believe it. Jack was here- really here. And he was looking for you! Of all the times to walk past Spot’s office, why’d you have to choose the one moment when your brother was there? Luckily enough, he seemed not to recognize you. Then, the ugly truth of that matter really hits you. He didn’t recognize you. The brother you’d spent your entire life with didn’t realize that you were standing before him if you were wearing a cap with your hair tucked up underneath it? Ridiculous.

You hear footsteps behind you and whirl around in a panic, your shoulders sinking with relief when you realize it’s only Spot. Spot, however, looks even more worried than he did back in that room with Jack. “You want to tell me what’s got you so nervous? I know it’s something with Jack, you might as well just say it.” Your head jerks up at that, but you try to play it off as if nothing happened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing with Jack.”

Spot folds his arms across his chest. “There is very much something with Jack. You practically passed out the second you saw him. What’s wrong?” You remain silent, and he takes a step towards you. “You can trust me, you know. You can tell me anything.” You look at him through nervous eyes. “Anything?” He nods. “Anything.”

Before you know it, your hands are fumbling for your cap at the top of your head, pulling it off and taking out the pins in one mad rush. You comb your fingers through your hair, then turn back to him, cap clutched in your hands. Spot looks stunned, but then he speaks. “He said he was looking for his-” You cut him off. “His sister. Yeah.” Spot seems shocked. “I thought you said you came from Queens?” You laugh awkwardly. “I, uh, lied about that. Figured it would be easier to pretend I was a nobody from some other turf than have to explain about everything.”

Spot furrows his brow, confused. “What is everything? I mean, Manhattan’s not an awful place. Why would you leave?” You sigh, raking a hand through your hair. “Manhattan was great. The problem was the people. Jack wouldn’t let me sell papes because he didn’t think a girl could do it as well, and he didn’t want me selling with the other boys. I left because I wanted a life of my own.” You let out a broken chuckle, one that seems to echo around the rooftop with the sadness of a thousand lifetimes. “He didn’t come here until two months later. He didn’t even recognize me. At the beginning, I wondered whether or not I was right in coming here, in leaving him, but I can see now that I was.” You look back up at Spot with eyes slightly darting towards frenzy. “He doesn’t care about me. I don’t think he does at all.”

Spot steps closer to you, taking your hands in his. “He’d be wrong to do that. You’re an amazing goil, and amazing at selling papes. If he doesn’t want you, then you’ve got a home with us.” You look back up at him, finally letting a soft smile spread across your face. “You mean it? You’re not going to make me go back?” Spot raises an eyebrow. “And let go of one of our best sellers? No way. I might tell him I saw you somewhere in a week or so, just to make him stop worrying, but I won’t say a word about where you are. You’re with us now.”

He glances at you, donning a slight smirk. “Does this mean we have to call you Princess instead of Prince?” You laugh at him, swatting him with your cap. “Absolutely not. I’ll go back to my disguise and everything. Life like normal, right?” He smiles at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Life like normal. Only this time, you know I’ve got you.”

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