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kittykattropicanna · 4 months

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Going absolutely feral over Mechanic!Simon and how you met him :(( I just want him so badddd

TW: pervy!Simon, smut, creampie, possessive!Simon, dirty talk (praise), he just wants you so bad girl, swearing, kinda naive!reader, brief mention of spanking

Mechanic!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Just imagine you’re driving through a shitty little town somewhere in England, you don’t even know where you are at this point.

Your ex just kicked you out of your shared apartment in the middle of the night and you have nowhere else to go, your only option is to drive in your little shit box of a car as far away from him as possible.

Of course its poring rain and of course your car breaks down in the middle of the road surrounded by scary looking government houses and a very obviously high homeless guy screaming and yelling all sorts of profanities :(

With shaky hands you quickly look up every mechanic in town on your phone, its almost dead and none of them answer :( of course they wouldn’t! Its the middle of the night!

You don’t have insurance either! Everything is going wrong, you’re so lost and scared :(

You start to panic when there’s only one number left, with a shaky breath you call it and just as you think you're out of luck, a deep cranky voice answers begrudgingly obviously pissed that someone dared to call him at this hour.

Tomorrow is his only day off for the week >:(

Simons personal number was attached to the shop after Price promoted him to manager, now he has all sorts of dumb fucks calling him all times of the day and he hates it!!

But how could he say no? A poor girl called him in tears gasping for air between sobs and absolutely hysterical :(((( His not an ethical guy and a young girl like you that knows absolutely nothing about cars :( imagine all the extra money he could charge you? You wouldn’t question it either! Oh how could he say no to such a silly girl…

After what feels like hours a very tall, bulky, thick man with a scary balaclava knocks on your driver seat window and you scream so loud!!! His so scary and big! And his eyes! They’re are so angry :(((( he must be so angry at you for calling him :( you feel so bad :(

After he loads your car onto the tow truck he insists on driving you home

“Ohh come on sweetheart, would hate to see a pretty baby like you stuck in the rain, let me take you home darlin’”

His so pervy too! Subtly touching your arse and looking at your hard nipples that poke through you soaked shirt :(

He can’t help it! You can’t blame him! You’re not wearing a bra!

And with a beautiful face like yours and a body like that, what did you expect him to do? Not eye fuck you? Don’t be ridiculous.

You tell him that you have nowhere to go because your shitty ex threw you out and Si insisted you stay with him!!

“Oh pet, you poor poor girl, you want to get a room at a motel? No. Nooo. That’s no place for a doll like you, come stay with me darlin’, come on sweets, I’ll sleep on the couch, promise yeah?”

“I’m just tryna’ keep ya safe honey, its not nice around these parts, okay? hate for somthin’ to happen to ya”

And you know his right :( he came all this way in the middle of the night, left his comfy bed in the pouring rain just to help you, his from around these parts and he knows best!

His voice is so deep and husky, you just know a man like him could keep you safe!

You jump in the shops tow truck and he insist you take off your soaking shirt and put on his company jacket.

Its covered in oil and dirt, smells like cigarettes and is wayyyy to big for you. “Riley” is printed onto the left breast pocket with a large logo with the words “Price’s Motor Repairs” on the back.

Its so disgusting and smells musky but something about it makes your pussy clench!!! His so manly, so dominant, how could you not get turned on by him!!! You could feel his eyes roam your breasts as you sit in his jacket, chest completely bare underneath, hard nipples rubbing against the fabric :(((

Once you reach the shop, he drops your car off then shows you around.

He wants to impress you sooooo bad, showing you all sorts of tools and telling you what he uses them for, how he uses them to fix things. The whole time his talking all you could look at is his big muscly arms as he purposely flexes them for you.

Never in his life has he seen such a gorgeous, gorgeous girl and all he wants to do is bend you over his modified truck and fuck you so hard you’re creaming on his cock :(

And that’s exactly what he does! Before driving you back to his, he has you bent over, back arched and his callused hand wrapped around your hair as he ruts into you while you're still in his company jacket :((((

Your poor pussy hasn’t taken such a big girthy cock before, his wide hips connecting with your arse and slamming your much smaller body into the hood of his car :3

Thrusts so deep his car shakes from the force :)

As you moan and babble completely cock drunk you can hear him snickering and grunting behind you, whispering dirty words in your ear

Praising you between grunts….

“Look at you love, fuck, look at that perfect fuckin’ pussy, taking my cock so well, such a good girl, aren’t ya?” As he pounds into you so deep the tip of his leaking cock touches your cervix. A small squeal exiting your lips as he holds you there for a second, letting you feel for the first time what a real deep pounding feels like :)

“Never been fucked this good have ya baby? Never cum his hard before” he’d snicker has you cum for the third time, legs shaking and mascara running not from the rain this time, but from the tears of pure pleasure his so kindly giving you :(

And of course his coming inside of you! His loads are so big as well, when he finally lets himself cum he absolutely floods your pussy :)))

Your moans bounce around the tin walls of the shop, the sound of him slapping your arse echoing at the same time

You can feel the hot ropes shoot up inside of you as he continues to slowly thrust making sure none of it goes to waste.

He tries to suppress his moan, disguising them as grunts but a few slip past his lips :(

He doesn't pull out but that doesn’t stop his cum from leaking out of your cunt and down you beautiful thighs,

“Look at tha’ baby, fuckin’ hell, you did so good for me my gorgeous girl, so fuckin’ good”

He just met you but his already so, so possessive. :)

He carries you to his truck because your legs feel like jelly :( his so gentle with you too, whispering in your ear how good you did for him and how you're such an obedient girl, his obedient girl.

You fall sleep in his truck, curled up in the passenger seat, his company jacket still wrapped around your bare chest.

You’ve had such a big night and the sound of the soft radio and drizzle of rain lulls you to sleep.

You wake up in Si’s arms as his gently placing you into his bed.

“You’re alrigh’ darlin’, jus’ close ya eyes for me, ill be here”

Its safe to say he didn’t take the couch that night :3

Request are open for Mechanic!Simon, I would love to hear your thoughts so feel free send them through and add to the AU. im just obsessed w/ himmmm

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

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auspicioustidings · 7 months

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Services/Goods of Equivalent Value

Summary: You decide to renovate a crumbling farm house into a teashop, not realising there is a military base right down the road.

Work Count: 3.9k (this was completely by accident)

CW: None, the whole thing is a fluff piece

This was probably crazy. It was definitely crazy right? People didn't actually get to pursue their passions and have their dream job under relentless capitalism, that wasn't a thing right? So then why did you think that you could be different? Especially standing on this road (dirt path really) looking at the crumbling wreck of a farmhouse with only one suitcase and a backpack to your name.

The property had already taken a chunk of your savings and you'd need every penny of the rest to try and turn it into what you imagined. You walked over the threshold and took a breath. It was a rainy day, the puddles on the floor evidence of the holes in the roof. Parts of the floor were cracked and rotting. Only one window had managed to stay completely intact, the rest either totally gone or cracked beyond repair. But when you turned the tap and found that after a heroic sputter the water did flow through you grinned.

It didn't matter how the small space looked now, it mattered what you could see in it. You got to work.

You threw the screwdriver on the ground and huffed, stopping your feet like a child. This was the 5th time you had attached the new front door and the 5th time it was wrong. It wouldn't fit in the frame properly. You kept plaining down the edge gingerly, taking off a tiny bit at a time so you didn't go too far, and every time when you propped it up it seemed like it fit until you actually added the hinges.

"Ye ok there hen?"

Oh that was embarrassing, there was a man on the road. He was jogging in place, pausing what must have been a run judging by his workout gear to give you a bemused grin. You flustered a little, wildly gesturing to the door in accusation. You had every good reason to be in a huff, the door was being a dick.

He laughed at you and you blew out a breath before groaning and slumping down to hug your knees and bury your head there in embarrassment, your voice muffled.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, it just won't go on."

You heard warm laughter and then footsteps coming towards you. Felt a hand gently petting at your head in a 'there there' gesture.

"I wouldnae expect it tae. It's the wrong type of door for this frame."

You unburied your head and looked at him, aghast.

"But can't I just make it smaller? I've been making it smaller. I really love that door."

"Aye that would eventually make it fit, but it's an interior door, wilnae dae fuck all to keep the elements oot."

You groaned and just accepted your fate, falling back on your ass and then laying star fished on the ground to stare at the sky. You were bone tired. You'd laid the floor, it was crooked as hell. The windows were fitted but two of them just did not open properly and you couldn't figure out why. You had given up on the leaks, putting buckets down for the moment and hoping the next downpour would hold off until you could come up with a solution.

It wasn't like you weren't trying your hardest, but it was just so much all the time and you wondered why on earth you thought you could do this. A shadow fell over you as the man leant to look at you with a smile.

"I can help ye with the door" he offered, holding out a hand which you took to shake from your spot on the ground, telling him your name. "Nice tae meet you, John MacTavish."

"I can't pay you John MacTavish, so thanks but I'll figure something out."

"Wisnae offering for pay hen, just tryin' tae help a damsel in distress."

You considered him for a moment before hauling yourself up and making your way inside, motioning for him to follow. You started tearing through the place to find a pen and paper, clearing tools and assorted nonsense off of the countertop to lay the paper flat.

Johnny took the place in with some sense of awe. Last time he saw this place it was basically a ruin and he had to hand it to you, you had done a half decent job with it. There was charm in all the flaws, made the place feel undeniably cosy. He noted the buckets, would have to fix the roof. He wasn't any good at that kind of work, but hadn't he seen Rudy doing roof work on one of the safe houses before? They were due a visit from Los Vaqueros soon, he'd ask him to come help. Wasn't too far a trip, this road was a half hour run from a small off record military base the 141 tended to use when they didn't feel like being miserable in some rules bound grey prison of a base.

Rudy was a bit like him, always loved a project. He tried to figure out what exactly you were doing with the place. The counter looked like a bar of some sort, maybe a shop?

"Ok John, here you go" you said, presenting the very hastily written contract.

I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value as soon as I have the means to do so.

"Services and goods eh? Wit ye selling?"

"Once I get the place fixed up, tea."

Johnny couldn't help but grin at your expression. You were so determined and so excited about the prospect, like the idea of it had completely re-filled your energy. Cute.

"Add coffee to the menu and you have a deal."

You liked Alejandro immediately and immensely. John, or Soap as you were now calling him and honestly you had no clue why, and Rudy were absolute terrors together. You actually did enjoy being around them, but my God if it didn't tire you out something awful. It was impossible not to be high energy with them, bouncing around and laughing and having fun. But when Alejandro had joined he had calmed you down, allowed you to take it slow and easy after days of feeling like a live wire.

With the roof fixed and a front door that worked you were able to start actually unpacking the suit case you had brought into the place months ago. Two kettles and your favourite tea set along with a big copper pot you loved, some utensils and some hand blended tea. It wasn't a lot, but being able to make that first pot of tea almost made you cry.

You were extra attentive, making sure it was brewed perfectly before going outside to find the others. You were nervous, the first time you had felt that way around them. None of the three were much for tea, that you knew.

"Hey I... uh, I made tea. I don't actually have any coffee just yet but I promise I'm going to get some soon! It was just in the meantime, if you wanted something to drink. Tea I mean, if you wanted to drink some tea. Which you do not have to" you rambled, trying to give your best winning smile to the three men currently working away at one of the windows. The ones that you couldn't open you had installed completely wrong so they had taken to reinstalling them.

Johnny and Rudy were content to watch you ramble away, seeing you like this being new to them so choosing to enjoy it while it lasted. You were adorable like this, heart on your sleeve telling them that it was important to you that they enjoyed something you had made for them. Alejandro only smiled and pulled off his gloves, stuffing them in his back pocket and going over to you.

"We would love some tea, it's the first time you've made it here no? Thank you for trusting us to share it" he said warmly, watching how you visibly relaxed. He liked that he could have that effect on you.

"Well if the boss says we drink tea then we drink tea" Rudy laughed, him and Soap following after.

You reckoned that if he went by first impressions, Simon Riley probably thought you were the biggest airhead he had ever met. In your defence though, you had the worst cold known to man when he had come round.

The place was looking great, but the fireplace wasn't done yet. As you had been since starting this project, and as you had been hiding from any visitors, you were sleeping in the building in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was getting bitingly cold and you were bundled up in layers whenever you went to bed. You could not afford to rent somewhere nearby while this was going on and to be honest you hadn't really thought ahead to what you would do when you actually opened the place. Probably just keep on sleeping on the floor, or maybe once you got furniture on one of the cosy armchairs you wanted to get.

He had made a house call when you were miserably sipping at a hot chocolate. Rudy had taught you how to make it, a recipe from Mexico. It was gently spiced and beautifully warming and smooth, but with your current cold you could barely taste it, hence the misery.

"Y'should really lock the door, I could be a murderer walking in here."

The man who had walked in was tall, in full tactical gear and wearing a balaclava with a skull on it. Probably was a murderer.

"Please put me out of my misery Mr murderer."

You honestly hadn't meant to say that to a complete stranger, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton wool instead of grey matter today. Thankfully he only chuckled gruffly instead of fulfilling your request.

"And then where would I get more of whatever tea Johnny brought back to base?"

Johnny. Right, this must be Ghost then. Soap talked about him sometimes, said him, Gaz and Price liked your tea which had made you jump up and down in excitement at the time. Your signature blend had taken you years to get just the way you liked it. Soap had also said something about Ghost having a mask, so you at least assumed this wasn't one of the other two.

"Oh right, let me get you some to take away with you. Hang on" you said, going to pack some of the leaves up into a little brown bag for him.

You put it on the counter and then went into the cupboard, grabbing the mug you had gotten in a Halloween sale. It was a white mug in the shape of a ghost, two little eyes on the front. You ladled in some of the hot chocolate from the pot on the stove and put that on the counter as well.

Ghost watched the whole thing with concealed amusement. He had genuinely come to get some of the tea, he liked the blend and they had run out of what Johnny had brought. But he had also come out of curiosity. It was clear Johnny was fond of you from the way his eyes lit up when he'd tell them all what he had done with you that day whenever he would come back to base. Rudy and Alejandro too when they had been visiting seemed enamoured, tense from mission planning right up until a visit to you would have them coming back relaxed and happy.

Part of him had been hoping to scare you a little showing up the way he had in gear and mask. It was probably because you were clearly sick, but you weren't treating him like something scary. No, you were sluggishly getting him tea and then giving him hot chocolate in a cute little ghost mug.

"You shouldn't be working sick, definitely a health and safety violation."

"Place isn't open yet so not technically working."

"In that case, thanks for the hot chocolate."

When he left, he took off his massive cosy looking jacket and draped it over your shoulders without a word before grabbing the bag of tea and taking off.

You tried a bunch of names for the cat and none of them seemed to fit just right. The scrappy little thing started hanging around the place when you started leaving out snacks for it and you found you enjoyed the company.

The place was nearly ready now, interior cosy and furnished with a bunch of mismatched furniture you had thrifted that somehow managed to match the vibe very well. With the fire going the place glowed just the way you had always dreamt it would, and the way the scent of tea clung pleasantly to the air was more than you could have hoped for. Simon and Soap had helped haul a lot of the furniture, but they had been gone for a month now. You really hoped you would see them again so you could show them the place now, completely transformed from when they last saw it.

Cosy enough now for this cat to enjoy at least. She even had a favourite spot, one of the wing backed armchairs by the fireplace.

"How about Binks?" you asked her, currently leaning behind the counter and mulling over a cup of tea.

In response the cat only yawned and blinked lazily at you.

"Ok, not Binks then" you laughed, taking a sip and sighing in contentment. Honestly who knew if you'd ever get customers, this place was completely out of the way, but you were proud of what you had created. Dirt poor, but proud. You'd open soon you thought, actually give this a go.

The cat eventually stretched and padded over to the door, looking over at you expectantly.

"Alright alright, time for you to go wherever it is you go" you said, going over to open the door and let her out.

There was a giant on the other side of the door and you all but jumped out of your skin in surprise. The man looked like he had been considering knocking, just as surprised as you were for a moment. Purring broke you both out of your surprise, the cat butting up against the man's legs.

"So this is where you've been getting to Herzogin" he said to the cat, leaning down to give her some scratches which resulted in more purring before she went right back to her spot on the chair, leaving you and the giant stood at the doorway alone.

"Is Herzogin her name? I'm sorry, I thought she was a stray" you said with a slight smile, hoping you hadn't accidentally become a catnapper.

"She is a stray of kinds, the base nearby feeds her sometimes so I got used to having her around is all."

"Oh my God the base! That makes way more sense now, I didn't realise there was something like that nearby."

So that's where all these men had been coming from. You wondered if that meant Ghost, Soap, Rudy and Alejandro weren't stationed there anymore or had been moved. The military wasn't something you understood, but you assumed they must move around a lot. Did they have a home base of sorts? Was it selfish of you to sort of hope the one near you was a home base for them?

"If they had told us about this place we would have visited" the man said as if in apology.

"Oh no don't worry, I'm not actually open yet. I'm just sort of practicing drinks until I work up the nerve" you laughed. "Do you want to try something? I'm best at making tea, but I've been trying out coffees and hot chocolates as well."

You moved to unblock the doorway, inviting him in and telling him your name. He said you could call him König. Luckily this place had high ceilings so he could experience the cosiness without it being cramped for him.

König found the next few hours to be some of the most calming he had experienced in years. He wouldn't deny that he enjoyed the bloodthirst of battle, it gave him a manic energy that suited him. But there was something to be said for letting himself be fully off duty. It was nice to teach you how to make Einspänner, laugh at your pronunciation of it and have you laugh back rather than be nervous around him for his size or his reputation. Sipping his drink by the fire with a cat in his lap and you softly telling him all about your big plans for the place if it started to do well was something he hadn't known he had been yearning for.

He knew him and the others in Kortac were only here a few more days, the 141 being gracious in allowing them to use their base to lay low while they handled the absolute mess happening in America just now. The whole thing had at least given the teams an uneasy alliance for the time being. Maybe he'd put some effort into keeping that alliance going so he could visit again.

You knew that you should do some sort of advertising for an opening, but the idea was overwhelming. Instead you just quietly popped a little open sign by the door and went about your day as normal. You would probably get nobody coming in because nobody knew this was here and that suited you fine. It felt like once 'opening day' was over and the pressure of it was out of the way, then you could actually seek out customers and not feel like it was as big a deal.

If zero people showed up your first day then the only direction was up right?

Only two people did show up. Price and Gaz. They had greeted you warmly like you were an old friend, explaining that they knew Soap and Simon who would be home soon but that they wanted to visit themselves. They seemed to like the place which made you happy, both settling in at one of the tables and chatting amicably away with you while you made their tea.

Herzogin didn't seem to care that there was company, barely even looking to check before curling back up in her spot happily purring away.

Captain Price found he liked this place immediately. It struck him as bordering on fantastical, seeming like a tea shop from a fantasy novel on the inside. It was an hour at a brisk walk to get here but he regretted not making the trip sooner, imagining that any customer who had come once would certainly become a regular regardless of distance. It was a relaxing spot, almost nostalgic feeling.

For Gaz the place was lovely, but he was more fascinated with you. He had wanted to visit before, had tried to tag along with Ghost and Soap and been denied. He reckoned he probably knew why now, bastards were being selfish and keeping you all to themselves.

"Is it always so quiet for you on weekdays at this time?" Price asked at some point in the conversation, watching the pretty blush that stained your cheeks with interest.

"Oh well technically, this is the first weekday I've been open at this time. It's actually sort of opening day? I mean I didn't really advertise or anything, I wasn't actually expecting anyone to show up if I'm honest" you replied sheepishly.

"It's a soft open then, just to test everything out yeah?" Gaz said gently.

"I think that's an idea. This can be your soft open and then in a week you can open proper. That way Ghost and Soap can be here for it" Price added.

Both of them were giving you such soft looks that you couldn't help but agree with them, settling on a date in a weeks time for a real opening. When the conversation turned to how you would advertise they had promptly told you not to worry about it with a knowing look to one another.

Every seat in the place was taken and the tables and counters were overflowing with sweets and snacks from all over the world. Bukkumi, halva, berlinerkranser, churros, shortbread, teacakes, all brought in for everyone to share. You were so busy making drinks that you didn't even register how ridiculous it was that you were happily hand fed bites of different desserts every so often by whoever happened to be near you when you stopped to fill a cup or mug.

It was nice to see everyone you had met again and to meet new faces. Herzogin took it all in her stride, figuring out quickly who she liked. You hid a laugh seeing König huff when she curled up in Simon's lap. The official opening was by all accounts an outrageous success and everyone absolutely overpaid on their bills regardless of your efforts to stop them.

Farah promised to teach you how to make the halva while Horangi swore that the bukkumi would remain a trade secret and you'd just have to hire him next time he was in town to make it for you. Aksel had rolled his eyes at the Korean man and pressed a kiss to your cheek in thanks for taking care of them. Kate smacked Soap upside the head when he immediately made a beeline to give you kisses as well which made you laugh before blushing and pressing a quick peck to his cheek when he pouted about it.

When everybody was finally out of the door you were absolutely exhausted. By the time the sound of the last car leaving faded away you were already done with tidying all the plates and cups away to the sink. You'd deal with the cleaning up tomorrow, you were far too beat to even consider doing it now. Giving Herzogin a kiss on the head after you had gotten ready for bed, you curled up in the chair by the fireplace, crashing out hard almost immediately.

"Told you so."

"Ye always have tae be right about everything don't ye LT."

"Alright. Get her in the car would you Sergeant."

"Right-o Captain, we kidnapping damsels now?"

"It's not a bloody kidnapping you cheeky bastard. We're putting her in a proper bed for the night and taking her back in the morning once she's made a bad attempt at explaining herself."

"She can take my room."

After some discussion on that point it was decided that you would indeed take Ghost's room with the reasoning it meant nobody would disturb you. They could hardly put you in one of the empty rooms where anyone might walk in. Everyone who they had invited for the opening was staying at base and they were not about to risk the likes of König or Rudy figuring out you were sleeping under the same roof as them. They'd avoid that for as long as possible.

Tomorrow they'd let you sweat a bit and then tell you in no uncertain terms that you'd be staying with them for the time being until they could build you an extension to your shop with a proper living space. You could pay them back with services/goods of equivalent value after all, and they could think of plenty of ideas for what that looked like.

#cod #cod au #tf 141 x reader #konig x reader #los vaqueros x reader #fanfic #truly I was in a very cosy mood this evening and could do nothing but write about cosy vibes #shan't apologise #mhairiwrites

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

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Anyone for a cute little dome home in the mountains? It was built in 1997 in Crestone, Colorado, has 1bd, 1ba, $347K + $55mo. HOA (out in the middle of nowhere, an HOA?) The astrologer who built it actually lived onsite before deciding its exact location & placement of windows based upon best viewing of the stars.

Unlike most dome homes we've seen, this is in great condition and needs no repairs.

This is really nice. I've never posted a dome that wasn't crumbling and falling apart.

The description doesn't say, but it looks like there may be a loft, too.

Cute backsplash. The kitchen looks new.

I like that little round painted feature.

The bedroom is a good size and it has some built-ins.

This is very nice. I like the curving walls inside.

Pretty cobalt blue bath tile.

Cute little sink and clever storage.

A dirt road. Why doesn't the HOA get it paved?

The lot is .90 acre so it's almost 1 acre.

If you're into mountains, it's a great location.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/826-Ridgeview-Way-Crestone-CO-81131/248811429_zpid/

#dome homes #houses #house tours #home tour #homes under $400K

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hedgehog-moss · 1 year

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Salut madame hedgehog moss!

Maintenant je me prépare à déménager à une toute petite ville au nord-est des États Unis près de la frontière avec Nouveau Brunswick (donc une ville peu peuplée et très rurale). Maintenant j'habite dans une grande ville alors je suis certaine qu'il y aura un peu de décalage au début. Je sais que t'as déménager de Paris vers une très petite village donc peut être tu as des conseils pour comment je peux m'intégrer dans une telle communauté?

Désolé pour des fautes de grammaire. Le français n'est pas ma langue maternelle.

Hi! Your French is really good! :)

I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask for advice on how to fit in with a small rural community, as I chose to live in the woods a few km away from the nearest village because I moved to the countryside in search of solitude. I only leave my lair for groceries once every ten days or so—I'm on a solid "easy friendly small talk" basis with most locals, but I'm only better acquainted with a handful of them, the ones I interact with regularly by force of circumstance (the librarian because I'm a devoted library-goer, the postwoman, the farmer who owns the pasture next to mine...) and that's a level of integration in the community I'm happy with.

I suppose the main thing is to show curiosity and appreciation for the local way of life, rather than expect to live exactly the way you did in the city, but the specifics of what this entails vary a lot depending on locality. Participating in the local small economy, if there is one, is good—I try to attend the yearly events and fairs at the village, like the potter's market; I bought a jumper from the wool shop in town rather than ordering something online, and I buy fruit at the summer market and seedlings for my garden, and some cheeses, from the local farms that sell them, rather than getting stuff from the supermarket even though it would often be more convenient. But I'm glad there are still family farms and local artisans so it's important to support them. There's also a thriving informal gift economy in my village, I offer eggs from my chickens and homemade jams or syrups and later down the line neighbours reciprocate with seedlings or firewood, etc, the more you'll participate in this sort of thing (if it exists) the more connections you'll make.

Another thing re: being appreciative of the local way of life—I know the city people who are disliked around here are the ones who buy land and use it like they would a suburban plot, e.g. build a swimming-pool, mow the grass, remove all 'weeds' indiscriminately (I know brambles are annoying but birds nest in there and eat the berries, you've got to leave some...), or cover their dirt road with asphalt instead of just shovelling some gravel when it gets muddy, etc. Again the specifics vary depending on locality, but people are attached to their local landscapes and way of doing things and as someone who owns some land and has seen the way locals reacted to other people who bought land around here, you're clearly perceived differently if you have a spirit of maintaining and repairing and appreciating the place for what it is, rather than remodelling and innovating and adapting it to what you want it to be.

Also you've got to accept that it can take a very long time to become part of a close-knit community, and try not to take things personally—I remember someone commenting on one of my posts a few years ago that she felt rejected by the people in her village because she was still seen as an outsider, and not allowed to take part in the organisation of some local events, several years after moving there. I wouldn't see not getting to help organise an event as a hostile behaviour towards me, I don't really expect to be included on every level, if locals feel like some things are for people who've lived here their whole lives, okay. I know rural communities are not the most diverse places and I'm not saying to accept discrimination due to bigotry of any kind, but in terms of "being kept out of some things or treated differently because you're not from this specific place", I do see it as something to be accepted. If I'm still seen as a city person and an outsider twenty years from now, so be it, as long as people aren't outright rude about it. I don't think of not being welcome to everything as rude, there are just boundaries that exist and so be it. I'm not saying someone would be wrong for being hurt by this type of exclusion, just that it helps to have this "don't take it personally" attitude when moving to a rural village.

Having a llama also really helps! The only reason I got acquainted with lots of local people in my first year here was because Pampe kept running away and I kept having to knock on people's doors with like a photo of her and go hi, have you seen this criminal. And then people would stop me at the grocery shop or something two weeks later like, did you end up finding your criminal? And I'd complain about her and they'd sympathise and tell me about their own annoying animals. I can't recommend animal misdemeanours enough as a source of friendly mutual understanding with rural neighbours.

Oh and speaking of complaining—another obvious way to integrate in a small community is to fight together against a common enemy. This is anecdotal but last year a state-owned company started to build a metallic structure (I'm trying not to be too specific) outside the village and it spoilt the landscape a bit, and I hesitated to grumble about it when making small talk because I was half-expecting to come across as an annoying city person, complaining about aesthetics while local people's livelihoods would be improved by this thing—but not at all, people also hated the look of it and were like "they hardly even consulted local authorities on this, they think we don't get to have an opinion on what our land looks like" and we went to the town hall to complain and the mayor agreed with us and eventually we complained enough that the company replaced the metal parts with wooden ones, so it at least looks more natural and more discreet in the landscape. It was very satisfying to come together and have this happen, and I never felt more integrated in the local community than when I was in the town hall complaining with everybody else.

#ask

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pear1escence · 5 months

Text

Bedrotters

Keegan P. Russ x fem!Reader

Content Warnings: brief mention of weapons and killing.

A/N: Eh. Eughhhh.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

He was dead asleep as soon as his arms were wrapped around you. His head resting in the crook of your neck, taking in the scent of that sugary perfume he loved, deafening the soft snores that fell from his lips.

There’s a bitterness to his return, edging at the feeling of relief that had soothed your soul when his car had pulled into the driveway. A numb feeling of sadness, a trace of the worry that gnawed at you for every day that had passed since he was supposed to be back.

He’s okay. He’s safe, here, with you. It’s comforting, having his body pressed up to yours, a physical confirmation of the words you keep repeating in your head.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Keegan’s still asleep by the time you’ve left the house, a quick run to the grocery store to grab your missing ingredients for tonight’s dinner. The man must’ve tired himself out to the bone, cause when you return and the house is still silent, no sound of his records playing some old song, no sound of metal scraping against metal while he worked on some repair in the kitchen, you find him sleeping in your bedroom.

His gear still in a pile on the floor, stained with dirt and blood. The digital clock on his nightstand tells you that you have more than enough time to get dinner ready. Enough time to have him in your arms for a little while longer.

The sound of one of your favourite CDs, a collection of slow, melancholic love ballads plays from your speakers on the dresser. The words sound from your lips, a lullaby sung softly for your lover.

You remain like that for a while, humming to the tune of whatever songs are playing. Your mind wanders on its own as you admire Keegan, looking so pretty even with his face still stained from his eyeblack. He’s lying comfortably in your heavy duvet with a soft expression on his face, a stark contrast to the hard image he splayed out for the rest of the world to see.

Your thoughts wander off on their own unmarked path, taking your watchfulness with them. Keegan stirs awake without you taking notice, pale blue eyes watching you as fingertips trace absentminded circles into his skin.

His voice brings you back to the main road, your eyes falling to him as he speaks. “Wish I could read your mind, know where your head goes when you zone out like that.” He sounds tired, voice scratchy from his slumber. His hand lifts to ruffle your hair, and just because you’ve missed him so much you let him, even though you’d otherwise flick his hand away in annoyance of him messing up your locks.

“Was just thinking about you.” You murmur, a genuine smile on your face as his hand moves to cup your cheek. He’s so gentle with you in these moments, when you’ve been yearning for each other for weeks and finally come back together. The roughness of which he handles his guns, the harsh grip he welds his knife with as it sinks into the flesh of an enemy soldier, is reformed so that he can touch you how he wishes. Smoothed down so that he can trace your skin and heal your scars instead of leaving you hurting from open wounds.

It’s difficult, leaving the rough environment of his work to come home to you, where he can be soft and gentle all he wants for a limited amount of time. It’s almost never sufficient, you want more, and you’re greedy for wanting more, but you know it batters him more than it does you.

Keegan’s body shifts upwards, his back slotting against the headboard as his arms hoist you up to hold your body to his. “Hey, stay with me.” He reinforces his words with a pinch to your side, causing you to yelp.

You glare at him, dramatically rolling your eyes at him before leaning into his chest and sticking your tongue out at him. “I am here. Haven’t gone anywhere, Keegs.” He scoffs, arms trapping you as they wrap around your body to pull you even closer, muscles tightening as if you would try to escape. “Y’know what I mean. Don’t like it when you slip away so easily.”

You could be falling asleep yourself nestled up to Keegan like this. A big hand slips underneath your shirt to squish the softness of your stomach, his head tipping forward to nibble at your shoulder. “S’long as you’re not getting stuck on stupid stuff, don’t put yourself in a bad mood, baby.” You hum in agreement. “Mm. Need to get dinner ready.”

He laughs silently, “Playing housewife?” He mutters against your skin, placing a loving kiss on your shoulder. You snort. “You need a shower. You stink.” You respond, feigning annoyance. You shriek as he turns your body to push your face close to him, “No, no! I’m not joking, I’m gonna need to change the bedsheets now, sweaty old man.” You giggle, glancing up at him and catching the sass of his eyeroll. “Mhm. Shut it.”

#Keegan p russ #cod Keegan #Keegan Russ #Keegan Russ x reader #Keegan p Russ x reader #cod x reader

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after-witch · 1 year

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Into the Woods (And Out of the Woods?) (Reader x Fae)

Title: Into the Woods (And Out of the Woods?) (Reader x Fae)

Synopsis: You wandered a little too deep in the woods. A little too far away from human civilization, and a little too close to something else.

Word Count: 2850

notes: yandere-vibes

You loved the woods.

You loved the woods behind your house, those childhood woods that held memories and secrets and moments that defined you as a person. The time you and your friends cut your palms and rubbed your blood together in a secret pact; the time you got lost and your mother found you, and the smell of her perfume filling your nose when she hugged you so tight you couldn’t breathe; the giggles and whispers as you imagined you were hunting for fairies in those childhood green, wild spaces.

When you were younger, you used to swear you did see a fairy in the woods once. For real. Not just your imagination, or the secret wish of your heart--but a real-life sighting of something that shouldn’t exist but did.

Only it wasn’t a pretty little thing wearing a flower dress, sporting two gauzy pink wings that shed glitter. It was something small, and sharp, with dark eyes that glittered with greed. But greed for what, you couldn’t say. Not then. Not when you were so young.

It had beckoned to you. And for a moment, a horrible, terrible moment, you almost went forward. But you looked down. And there, right where you would have stepped, was a ring of mushrooms. A fairy ring. You knew it for what it was then, because like any child who lived half their life in the woods and sometimes pretended to see fairies, you’d checked out every book the library had on them. And one of the things they did, said the books, was trap humans with fairy circles. If you stepped in one, they’d make you dance. Maybe until you were dead. Maybe not.

You didn’t take the chance. Instead, you’d whirled, and ran. And did it laugh when you ran, heart pounding, breath sharp and cold? It must have.

Your friends didn’t believe you, your family didn’t believe you. In time, the surefire nature of the memory faded, and you thought you must have imagined it as well.

While your love for playing pretend in the woods faded, your love for the actual woods never went away..

Perhaps you loved the way it was like an exaggerated, magnified version of your childhood. Adventure, but amplified. More real. You couldn’t run for 15 minutes and make it back home in those parks, no. You could run for hours and still be faced with nothing but trees in any direction.

Those enormous, expansive patches of nature where you might run into a bear or a moose or simply no one at all for miles and miles and miles. The world seemed freer, there. Free from the noise and stress, free from exhaust pipes backing up into your face, from trucks rattling down the roads, from people shouting on the street.

As soon as you were able, you began to travel the world. National parks and campgrounds and any wild, natural space you might be able to squeeze yourself into. You wanted to experience the world for what it ought to be; with air that smelled of pine and dirt and raw animals. With waterfalls that pounded in the middle of a forest clearing, and not in front of a kitschy mall restaurant.

Is it any surprise that you began to venture farther and farther off the beaten track? National parks were certainly thrilling if you managed to get far enough away from the tourists, but they were still managed. They were still watched.

And you? You wanted to be alone in these beautiful spaces.

That’s how you ended up here, in these woods. These wild, wild woods, that were not registered to any park or government agency or campground with a rule list a mile long. They weren’t untouched, of course. Other nature-lovers had made their way into them--you could see the remnants of bolt-cutters on the repaired fence, right before you broke the chains with your own pair. But they were untouched enough that it was extremely unlikely that you would run into anyone.

Every hair on your body was standing on end.

The birds, which had been chirping ferociously all morning, had gone quiet with a suddenness that made your heart thump hard in your chest.

And at that same moment, you felt it. The unmistakable sensation of being watched. It was something you’d felt often, in the woods. And why wouldn’t you? There were plenty of animals here. Some dangerous, some not. They were bound to stumble on you sooner or later. That was why you kept bear mace latched to your hip and a knife ready on the other side; though you hoped you wouldn’t ever need to take your chances in a knife fight with a bear.

It was clear, though. There was something here.

But what? You glanced around, eyes wary and experienced, looking for signs of bears or mountain lions or wolves; or even something smaller, like a fox. Though, you imagined, foxes weren’t enough to make an entire clearing-worth of birds suddenly find themselves mum.

There was nothing. No signs. No rustling of the leaves. No huffing of breath, no stink of fur. No predator that finally leaped out of the bushes and thrust you into the fight of your life. There was nothing but the silence of the birds, and the awful, cold creeping feeling that something was watching you.

If it wasn’t a bear or wolf or anything you’d come across in your travels before, then…

What was out there?

“Hello.”

You screamed. An honest-to-goodness scream from your chest, shrill and impulsive and utterly terrified. You whirled at the same time, and your hands fumbled stupidly for your knife.

You were met with the sight of a young man, with fair-hair and dark eyes and long, thin limbs. There was something off about him. You could see that right away. Something a bit too thin, a bit too stretched, a bit too… something. There was an odd sheen to his skin, almost green. It didn’t make him look sick, though. It made him look like he was born out of the forest itself.

Maybe he was a mirage. Maybe you’d psyched yourself up into thinking something was out there, and being alone for so long, camping, with only yourself to keep company…

He raised his eyebrows as you stared at him and reasoned with yourself that he might not be real, after all.

“Hello,” he repeated. He didn’t cup his hands over his mouth or wave at you or smile apologetically for scaring you. Instead, he simply stared, as he had been staring, and repeated his greeting.

He really was there.

“H…Hello,” you managed, hand still on the hilt of your knife. You were experienced, you were wary--and you weren’t stupid. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

And you didn’t, which was the strangest thing. He should have made some noise. The rattle of bear spray against his jacket. But he wasn’t wearing one. Instead, he wore a half-open shirt that was far too gauzy and thin for the weather. Okay. If not that, then, you should have heard the jingling of bells on his backpack--but oh, now you noticed, he didn’t have one at all.

Well, the crunch of the ground underfoot, then. Surely. But when you glance down, you realize he’s not wearing shoes.

Maybe he lived in the woods, and you were encroaching on his territory. That didn’t bode well. Anyone living out here, off the grid, in any type of permanent situation… he might be hiding from the law. Or something else.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said, keeping your voice sweet and airy; it was hardly any trouble, considering how breathless you felt. “I’ll be going now.”

He stepped forward.

His feet, you realized, were not only bare--they were perfectly clean. And like the rest of him, they had the strangest of shimmers. Almost green, almost like nature itself was squirming under his skin.

“Oh, don’t go,” he said, tone becoming thinner, almost petulant. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” you said, lying through your teeth. “I’d just like to go.”

“Please stay,” he said, wheedling. He had a thin smile on his face, and he just kept walking, step by step. But there was no sound underneath his feet. There should have been. He walked over leaves and branches. Yet there was nothing at all.

“You can come with me,” he said. “Why don’t you?”

Your stomach twisted and your mind felt strangely blank as you tried to process the situation and make a decision. Should you run? But you got the idea, if you ran, that you might be lost in a way that was impossible to fix. You don’t know why you thought that, but you did, and it kept your legs from simply sprinting.

He was close now. And when you looked up in his eyes, you suddenly felt childhood squirming its way out of your heart and pushing past your ribs.

Because his eyes. His eyes. They were dark and deep and just like the eyes of that thing you saw so long ago. The thing you swore was real, before everyone--and time--convinced you otherwise.

The thing that beckoned you to follow.

“What is your name?” He asked.

And you knew, fully and completely. You knew he wasn’t human. You knew that these woods were like the woods of your childhood, where secret and dark things loved to dwell. Only you couldn’t run home, because home was too far; only mom couldn’t come get you, because your mother was dead.

You could drag up those childhood books, the pages with ribbon bookmarks and paintings of fairies, young and old, dark and kindly, dangerous and mischievous. What did the books say to do, when you were confronted by a fairy? Don’t thank them, don’t apologize, don’t… give them your name.

“I won’t give you my name,” you said.

He quirked his head at you, a little jerkily.

“Why not?”

“You can trap me, if you have my name.” You thought about that thing in the woods so long ago, and the fairy ring. You glanced down then, making sure there wasn’t one laying about.

And ridiculously, you thought: When I get out of here, I am going to write my childhood library a note, thanking them for their service.

He laughed. It was a beautiful sound, like wind chimes. It made you want to come closer to him, but you forced yourself to stay put.

“How smart you are,” he cooed. “How wise, how brave…”

He was handsome, and the words came out thick and sweet. Honey.

Something in you flushed at the praise, despite yourself. Yes, well, you were smart, weren’t you? You didn’t fall for his traps. You weren’t pulled in, unwary, by the sweetness of his face or the depth of his gaze. You were wise, and brave, brave because you didn’t simply bolt into a run. If you had run, you thought, you probably would have ended up lost entirely.

“Your mother would be proud, if she were alive,” he continued, in that same sweet tone. But at his words, you froze.

Your mother was dead. And he knew. Did he guess? Or did he know, somehow, some innate ability to understand you in ways a stranger shouldn’t?

“I…” you said, hesitating. “I guess she would. I hope she would be.”

You took a step back. You thought about your knife, or your bear spray--but what good would that do, if he was something else?

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, drawing himself nearer. At the sight of your anxious furrowed brow, he held up his hands, and slowly lowered himself onto a tree stump several feet away. “I only wish to sit near you, honeybee, and rest my legs. Is that what your mother called you? Honeybee?”

You shook your head and couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “No, she never called me that.”

He tapped his lips in playful thought. “Let me guess! I like guessing games.” He kicked his legs a little, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to childhood fairy tales in gold-pressed pages. Fairies, those books always said, loved games.

“I really should be going.” Yet a smile was on your lips even as you protested. He really was quite silly. You tried, for a moment, to imagine him making someone dance to death. Or stealing away their youth, or exchanging their baby and whisking away a human in its place, or all the other dark-edged things people said fairies did. It was hard to do.

“Oh, just stay for a moment, lamb.” His expression brightened, as if he’d just gotten the most wonderful idea. “That’s it, isn’t it? Lamb! She called you lamb.”

You grinned and shook your head. “No, that isn’t even close.”

He pouted. An honest-to-goodness pout. He cupped his chin with his hand and hummed. “Let me think… sweetie? Pumpkin? Dreamer? Doll?”

You shook your head again, and again, and again, and again

“I wasn’t much of a dreamer when I was little.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Or a doll.”

He regarded you with a smile that looked a little sad. “You’re a dreamer now, aren’t you, dove?” He clapped his hands. “Ah! Is that it? Did she call you dove? Little dove? Sweet dove?”

“No,” you said, with some wistfulness in your tone. “She didn’t like birds.” And it was true. You remembered, vaguely, that she’d been attacked by one as a child and the fear stuck right through adulthood.

He quirked his head to the side, and it was such a cute gesture that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, yes!” And he sat so primly and listened intently to your recounting of your mother’s childhood Bird Incident, which must have been nothing to him, really. But he listened and laughed, all the same. And it felt nice. It made you feel like perhaps it wasn’t so bad, to sit here and talk with him, after all. Maybe you’d read him wrong. Maybe you’d been paranoid. What would he want with you, anyway? And it wasn’t like he could take you, not without you making some terrible mistake.

And you weren’t going to do something like that.

“I liked that story,” he said, a kind smile on his face. “It makes you smile when you talk about your mother. I much prefer that expression on you, my dumpling.” Then his back straightened. “That’s it!” he said, with a note of purring triumph in his voice. It made you think about the queen who guessed the name of the strange man who spun her straw into gold in exchange for a ring, a necklace--and then her first born child. “That must be what she called you. Dumpling. I’m right. Oh,” he looked up at you with an expression of almost pathetic joy. “Tell me I’m right!”

“No,” you said, murmuring, thinking of your mother’s long-gone smile and the dusty smell of her rose perfume and everything else that went with her when she died. “Not that, either.”

Maybe it was all her memories stirred up in her heart, maybe it was the sight of his pitiful pout, as if he’d truly thought he was going to guess right this time. You don’t know what it was, exactly. But you continued.

“She didn’t like nicknames. She just called me…” And your name spilled from your lips, thoughtless and unthinking.

You didn’t realize what you’d done until he grinned.

And oh, how he grinned. How his pitiful pout turned into something like a satisfied knife. He grinned a beautiful smile with teeth that sharpened at the edges. Teeth that might rip through human flesh, hungry and soiled red. Teeth that might graze the edge of a delicate neck, giving the body underneath it goosebumps, as hands and lips wander.

Teeth that caught your eye now, as he approached.

You should run. The thought hummed through you, but didn’t matter. You couldn’t run. Because the moment he grinned, you felt your body growing heavy and tired. Your eyes blinked, desperate to stay away, desperate to leave. But you could do nothing but stand, almost swaying, as he pulled you into his arms and drew you close.

“No,” you whimpered, feeling both young and stupid all in one terrible blow. “I didn’t--I didn’t mean to. You tricked me… You tricked--”

He hushed you, lithe fingers brushing over your lips, cheeks, feeling your skin, your hair, everything that you were.

He said your name. It sounded sweet and rich in his mouth. Like he owned it and planned to keep it in a velvet box in his pocket.

“If that was what your mother called you,” he whispered, lips pressed against your clammy skin. “Then that is what I shall call you, too.”

Weightless, you could not protest.

You could do nothing but feel your eyelids growing impossibly heavy as the world around you turned sideways and shifted, until you didn’t know where you were--or how you would ever get back.

#yandere #yandere fae #folklore writing #afterwitch writes #original stuffs

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d1xonss · 4 months

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Desert Rose

Chapter 21 ~ Randall

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 4.1k

In this chapter ~ The entire group is relieved beyond repair when Rick and the others finally return after bringing Hershel back from the small town. Although they also bring back quite the unexpected guest, leading the others into a spiral of different opinions as they figure out what to do with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ROSE POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My eyes groggily and slowly opened the next morning, and everything that happened yesterday rushed back to me all at once. I couldn't help but smile to myself about everything that happened with Daryl, it almost didn't feel real and a part of me questioned if I dreamt it. But my smile faltered when I looked over and saw he wasn't there, up bright and early as per usual.

I sighed and sat up, quickly changing my clothes and walked out of the tent, looking out to see everyone was gathered around talking near the front of the gates, and I noticed quickly the guys still weren't back yet. Concern and worry pooled at the pit of my stomach, thinking what the hell could be taking them this long to come back. It couldn't have meant anything good, and by the looks of it, everyone was saying and voicing everything I was thinking.

I slowly began to make my way up to them upon hearing enough from a distance, the rest of them too into the conversation to even notice my sudden presence. They were going back and forth about who should go after them since Shane apparently didn't step up and go like he said he was going to. At this point to me I didn't matter who left, just someone needed to.

Listening to them argue constantly about the same thing over and over again for hours, it was starting to get under my skin. I would be more than happy to step up and take a car out to find them considering Lori couldn't even handle that. It really didn't have to be this difficult, though they couldn't seem to make up their minds about what we were supposed to do.

"Sorry I didn't wake ya up."

I jumped a bit at the sudden quiet voice coming from behind me, only turning my head over my shoulder to see Daryl smiling down at me with a certain glint in his eyes. Safe to say that it truly wasn't a dream.

A small smile made its way onto my lips as my head turned back towards the others, "Yeah, what the hell?" I quietly replied.

He scoffed, not doubt rolling his eyes, "Ya looked tired, ya needed the extra hour. Yer welcome."

"Thank you." I said, turning back around momentarily to send him a wink.

But my head whipped back around in a split second when I heard the sound of a car coming up the dirt road and heading straight towards the farm, pushing through the gates. A red and unrecognizable car pulled up onto the land, everyone squinting their eyes to try and see inside if it was the men we were talking about this very moment. But the second Rick stepped out of the driver's seat, the group collectively relaxed seeing that they were okay.

Relief washed over me quickly once I saw Glenn and Hershel step out as well, not having a single scratch on them. With so many things happening in the last few hours, I forgot how long they were actually gone. How long they were out there facing God only knows what that was keeping them from coming back all night.

Lori and Carl quickly rushed over to Rick, while Maggie ran up to her dad and practically tackled him in a hug, leaving Glenn just standing there with his hands in his pockets. I couldn't stay in place even if I wanted to, instinctively walking over towards him in a flash before I was bringing him into a tight hug as well.

"Hey." I breathed, "Are you okay?"

He only squeezed me tighter, "I'm okay." he whispered, his voice coming out more drained and tired than normal, but I believed him.

I hadn't realized how much I had missed him until he was actually here again, seemingly safe and back with everyone else. My eyes then looked back up, spotting Maggie over his shoulder with her saddened eyes looking directly at the two of us which caused me to smile and let him go. I nodded towards the woman and Glenn turned around just in time to see her crashing into his arms as she cried.

My feet took a few steps backwards, watching the couple reunite while everyone else around us made sure that all the guys were really okay, somewhat expecting an explanation. I was lost in my own mind for a moment or two, before I felt a presence next to me, turning to see Rick seeming to be doing the same thing I was.

I nudged his side, "Good to have you back."

He smiled warmly at me, "It's good to be back." he said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I smiled back up at him, before Hershel's voice suddenly called out towards the house, "Patricia, prepare everything for surgery." he spoke urgently.

"Are you hurt?" Lori asked as her eyes scanned Rick for anything serious.

He opened his mouth to respond, to try and explain himself and what happened, but T-Dog's voice cut through whatever he was trying to say, "Who the hell is that?" the man asked.

"That's Randall." Glenn muttered, gesturing back towards the car.

My eyes snapped over to him in shock, walking up closer to the vehicle to see a strange man in the backseat, a bandanna tied tightly over his eyes while his wrists were bound as well. His breathing was heavy as he stayed perfectly still against the seats, but I couldn't have been more shocked. I was absolutely blown away as to why the hell they thought it was okay to bring a stranger back here, but before I could mutter a word, I felt my arm being pulled back.

I turned and saw Daryl trying to lead me away further from the car door, wanting me far away from this guy, and I let him. I couldn't lie; I was angry. Frustrated at the fact that they thought it was perfectly okay to bring someone back here when they didn't know shit about what he was capable of. I didn't care that he was hurt, or that he needed help, we didn't know him at all and that should've been enough.

A few hours had passed and right now we were all waiting inside the house for Hershel to come back in and tell us how the surgery went. They had at least a somewhat steady head on their shoulders as they thought it was a good idea to keep him locked in the shed. But that didn't make the rest of us feel any safer.

We went back and forth about why they brought him back here for a while, and to say Shane was pissed about it would be an understatement. It was like a never-ending cycle. We would argue about it, silence, then we would start arguing again. Right now it was quiet, and I was just looking around at their faces, waiting for someone else to say something else. But based on the story that the guys told us, I think they should've left him.

Some random guys had apparently showed up to the bar Hershel was holed up at, talking to them for a while casually like they were old friends. But that didn't last long as they starting demanding to be brought back here to this farm with their group, wanting a safe place to stay. But with the way they were acting, they couldn't be trusted. Rick ended up having to kill them after they pulled out their weapons first, knowing that he would rather have them die then Hershel and Glenn.

But then their group suddenly showed up to the bar, looking around for their two missing guys. It ended up being a huge face off, shooting at each other endlessly before walkers eventually heard the bullets flying around, causing them all to flee. But there was one man that got injured, landing right down on a sharp fence as he tried to leap off of the building he was on top of. And his group left him behind, causing our guys to go and save his ass.

And now here we are.

From just the story alone, the little pieces of information, I already didn't trust him at all. Hell, none of us even knew if he was going to make it because of the severe injury on his leg. I know my thoughts were cruel for a human being, but his group sounded dangerous.

Rick sighed at the silence, speaking up after what felt like hours, "He would've bled out, if he lived that long."

"What do we do with him?" Andrea asked.

Rick's response to her was cut short when we heard the back door opening, Hershel appearing into the dining room as he cleaned his hands, "I repaired his calf muscle as best as I could, but he'll probably have nerve damage." he informed.

"When he's back on his feet, we give him some supplies, take him out to the main road and send him on his way." Rick stated.

My brows furrowed in confusion, "Then why did you bring him back? If you planned on ditching him anyway in the end, why go through all the trouble?" I asked.

"Because this way it'll give him a fighting chance." Rick responded.

Shane scoffed from where he stood, "We're just gonna let him go? He knows where we are."

"He was blindfolded the whole way here, he's not a threat." Rick replied.

"Not a threat... how many were there? You killed three of their men, took one of them hostage, and they just ain't gonna come looking for them?" Shane asked with edge to his tone.

My leg began to bounce anxiously from under the table, somehow not even thinking of the possibility of his group finding us, or him running off back to them. Well...limping off back to them I suppose. But I was worried about Carl and Beth's safety the most out of everyone, and now Lori since she was carrying another life right along with hers. We had to be more careful about this instead of just dropping him off carelessly somewhere with the risk of him coming back.

"His group left him for dead, no one is looking." Rick started to raise his voice, arguing again.

T-Dog then stepped in, "We should still post a guard." he said matter-of-factly.

"He's out cold right now, will be for hours." Hershel stated.

Shane huffed as he shook his head, pushing himself off the wall to walk out of the room, "Y'know I'm just gonna go get us some flowers and candy. Look at this folks, we're back in fantasy land." he sarcastically said.

Hershel watched him walk away before stepping up right as he was about to leave the house, "You know we haven't even dealt with what you did to my barn yet." he voiced loudly, "Let me make this perfectly clear once and for all. This is my farm, now I wanted you gone but Rick talked me out of it, that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor, and keep your mouth shut."

Wow, go Hershel. Shane just stood there for a moment glancing back at everyone, before sighing heavily and making his dramatic exit, slamming the door shut behind him. Hershel turned back after he was long gone and made eye contact with me. I gave him an impressed look, raising my hand to give him a subtle thumbs up, to which he smiled small in return.

"Look, we aren't going to do anything about it today, let's just cool off." Rick spoke, now finding the urge to leave right along with him.

The rest of us then started to leave without another word, slowly getting up from their chairs. I didn't want to just continue to brush this off forever, but it seemed as though everyone was done with discussing it for now with how frustrated we all became. So, I began to slowly follow everyone's lead, pushing my chair out and heading out of the room to go upstairs and check on Beth. I hadn't seen her or heard how she was doing since yesterday, and I wanted to make sure she had been doing okay since then.

Her door was open when I approached it, causing me to slowly peek inside to see her laying down on her bed with a far off look in her eye. I stood in the doorway for a moment, before eventually pushing myself forward and taking a seat at the end of her bed. My eyebrows pulled together in obvious worry, seeing her not moving an inch as she stared up at the ceiling, not even acknowledging my presence.

"Hey hon." I greeted, managing a small smile as I gently reached over to grasp her hand. She didn't take it, but she also didn't pull away.

A few minutes ticked by silently like that, with her not saying a thing even though she was much more aware of things than she was yesterday. I could easily tell she had a lot on her mind, her mind running constantly as she didn't even feel the need to talk. I wanted her to be okay, but I also didn't want to bother her if she just wanted to be alone right now, I understood that. But I also wanted her to know that I would be right her for her if she needed me.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll come back later, yeah?" I asked.

Upon hearing me say that, her eyes slowly looked towards me, still not saying a word though she gave my hand a squeeze. That's all I needed to see to know she wanted me to come back, silently telling me without having to utter a word. I gave her hand a small squeeze in return before I slowly stood back up, leaving her alone as I shut the door a crack behind me.

I walked out of the house and towards the tent to grab my sketchbook from the bag I still had yet to unpack. I figured now would be a good time to try and finish the painting of the house since everyone else was just doing their own thing for the rest of the day, avoiding the problem that still laid in the shed. I began to work as soon as I found the same spot I had sat in only a few days ago, picking up where I left off, focusing on the small details in the house that some people might miss when they first look at it. I wanted to be able to capture it as well as I could.

Lost in thought, I didn't even hear someone walking up to me until they sat themselves down right in the space next to me. I looked over to see Glenn situating himself, waiting for him to say something, but instead he just stayed silent. My mind didn't linger on it for very long before I accepted his silent presence, going back to painting only a few seconds later.

I could easily see that he was stressed about the stranger just beyond the field, locked in the shed, worried about what the outcome would be in the end. And I understood completely that sometimes you just needed someone beside you for comfort when thinking about something stressful like this. I guess in a way, I needed him too.

Though after about an hour, we were still sitting there in silence, and I was almost done with it for the day and coming to a good place to stop. I wordlessly showed Glenn my progress and he took the sketchbook in his hands, taking his time looking over at all of the details as his eyes scanned rapidly over the paper. A smile spread onto his face that I couldn't help but beam at as he admired my work. He handed it back over to me once he was done and I just silently got up after that, placing a hand on his back as I moved around him, heading back over to Daryl and I's shared tent.

It honestly took everything in me not to tell Glenn about Daryl and I, feeling as if it was somehow wrong to keep it hidden from him. Though that statement alone just made me realize more that he truly was my best friend, because I physically couldn't keep secrets from him. But it wasn't just my privacy, it was Daryl's too. Not only that, but it was his request that we only keep it between us for now, knowing how nosy the people in this group could be. And that's what made me bite my tongue.

As I entered the small space to put everything away, I noticed that he wasn't sitting in there like I assumed he would be. My brows furrowed in confusion that I hadn't really seen him all day other than the little meeting we had in the dining room. But that only made me want to go out and find him, my boredom only growing once I was creatively burnt out for the day.

So I left the tent only seconds later, zipping it back up to close the small space before I turned around and ran right into the person suddenly standing behind me. Speak of the devil.

Daryl stood tall as he looked down at me with a soft smile, stepping back a step or two once he noticed how close he truly was.

"Hey." I breathed, "I was actually just about to come look for you."

"Weird, I was actually lookin for ya too." he smirked, "Wanted to see if you wanted to come on a hunt with me."

I felt my eyes light up a little more at the idea as I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'd love to."

His smile only grew as he nodded towards the trees, "Alright, come on."

We gathered our weapons and walked into the forest, both of us had our eyes on the ground looking for tracks. I was really hoping that we would start to see some deer tracks, and not just come back with a bunch of squirrels like always, but that was wishful thinking. We hadn't seen any type of bigger animal since we stepped foot onto Hershel's land.

"Ya ever learn how to shoot one of these?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Daryl holding up his crossbow, and I only smiled with a shake of my head, "No I haven't. I always kind of wanted to have a bow, but I never got a chance to learn or anything."

He then moved over to me and hovered the crossbow over my hands, barely brushing my fingertips against it. Right as I was about to question what he was doing, he finally placed it down in my hands, jerking down a little because of how heavy the thing actually was. Cursing under my breath, I adjusted the weapon in my hands before looking back up at him with raised brows.

"I said I didn't know how to shoot one." I clarified, "And damn no wonder your arms are huge, this thing is like a tank."

He raised his eyebrows at me in amusement, "Ya think my arms are huge?" he asked, his face flushed slightly.

My eyes narrowed at him, "Don't pretend like you're not aware. Everything you own is sleeveless."

He scoffed and just shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest when I attempted to hand the weapon right back to him, "I'll teach ya right now. Just gotta find ya a target."

I hummed, "Okay." I agreed as we began walking again, "But let's start simple, I don't want to throw my back out with this thing."

He chuckled quietly to himself, "Fair enough."

We didn't have to walk very far before we found a tree that looked to be good enough to practice on, thinner, a harder target yet something that wasn't moving. Handing the weapon back to Daryl so he could actually load the damn thing, I took it back in my hands and tried to steady myself with the extra weight. But apparently it was obvious I was having trouble.

My hands slightly shook as I tried to hold it up towards my eye to actually aim correctly, but then suddenly the weight wasn't an issue anymore. Daryl silently came up behind me as he noticed me struggle, placing his hands over mine to take some of the heaviness away as he fixed my stance. He got down to my level, his face just inches away from my neck as he tried to instruct me.

"Alright, yer gonna want to aim a bit to the right." his voice echoed by my ear.

Instant chills ran down my spine when he said that, his deep voice being the only thing I could hear other than my heart beating wildly in my chest. He was so close and that smug bastard knew exactly what he was doing. I almost wanted to kick myself for allowing him to teach me the thing he knew best, because I should've known he would've pulled something like this. Ceasing the opportunity.

But I didn't move the crossbow like he instructed, only turning my head slightly to the left to look him in the eye. Our faces were inches apart, out noses barely brushing against each other and a noticeable smirk started to grow on his face.

"So, when you said you wanted to teach me...was it so you could be this close to me?" I asked him with a tilt of my head.

His eyes flickered to my lips for a second before saying, "Nah, there's another reason."

"So, what's the reason?"

He was silent for a long moment, racking his brain for another excuse as he slowly became more flustered at the situation he put himself in. It was amusing to watch, seeing him not being able to come up with a single explanation as his mind only really wanted on thing.

"If you wanted to kiss me...all you had to do was ask." I whispered against his lips, finally closing the space between us.

The moment I felt him kiss me back, I immediately discarded the crossbow and I tossed it to the ground. My hands found the way to his neck, while his fingers hooked onto the loops of my jeans, pulling me closer. Our lips moved in sync so effortlessly, his tongue slowly pushing its way into my mouth.

He began to push me up against the tree gently and his hands made their way to my lower back, the warmth sending goosebumps rising on my skin in seconds. I finally couldn't take it anymore and I pulled back, needing air. We both were trying to catch our breath, when I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me with the same damn smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"I thought of another reason. If yer back was against the wall and ya only had a crossbow to protect yerself with, ya already know how to use it." he said matter-of-factly.

I scrunched up my nose as I thought for a moment, "Four out of ten." I rated.

He chuckled, placing his forehead against mine, "At least I tried." he muttered, "Do I get a prize for tryin?"

I laughed lightly and pulled him back in for another kiss. This one was much softer and shorter, but just as amazing nonetheless. I pulled away to glance up at his bright beautiful eyes for a moment, before he pecked my lips once more and pulled away fully. He walked back over, picking up his crossbow from where it had fallen in the leaves and looked at me expectantly.

"Still wanna learn?" he asked smugly.

I rolled my eyes, "Yes." I said before following his lead.

Then the next few hours were filled with us talking, laughing, and sharing a few kisses here and there. It was nice to be able to just be with each other like this, away from the chaos back at the farm, and away from the stranger left in the shed. I really appreciated Daryl taking me out on this hunt because it was a good distraction from just everything going on.

But to my surprise, he admitted a little later on that the whole reason he took me out here was because he knew I was stressed about the whole Randall situation, and wanted to be able to take my mind off of it for a few hours. My heart warmed almost instantly when he told me that, looking at him in almost a new light as I admired him.

What I felt for this man, I had never felt for anyone else before, and I really liked it.

~ Thanks for reading!

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biillyhargroves · 2 years

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Wayne Munson doesn’t get it. Not at all. Not one bit. But, then again, he supposes he doesn’t have to. No one is getting hurt, after all. And Eddie, he’s happy. So it can’t be that a big a deal, then, can it?

It starts with the Hargrove boy. Wayne has seen him hanging around town, that car of his announcing his arrival around every street corner, engine idling outside of Melvald’s and the Palace Arcade, tires screeching through Forest Hills in the dead of the night, stuttering over those same dirt roads come morning. And Wayne Munson, he’s not a stupid man. No, sir. Not in the slightest. He’s not blind, either. He knows that his nephew could not afford that fancy guitar, those hulking Marshalls, on the meager allowance Wayne scrounges up each week. No, there’s other income rolling in, that’s for sure and certain. The Hargrove kid is a customer. At least, this is how Wayne explains the nightly visits, until the one early morning he catches the boy scrambling to his Camaro in a pre-dawn haze. He knows that Billy sees him, sees the crooked button-down shirt, the half-zipped fly, the blond curls all mussed and wild in the shadows of the sunrise. The boy says nothing — doesn’t even acknowledge Wayne’s presence, pretends he hasn’t seen the man at all. He crams a cigarette into his mouth and ducks into the driver’s seat and takes off like a bat out of hell.

Eddie, he’s sheepish that morning. He’d watched the whole thing through the window, heart hammering hard in his chest. He was a fidgety mess over breakfast, hands shaking, coffee spilled. Wayne only asked, “Have a good night?”

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie stammered, and he rushed on our the door mumbling something about being late for first period. Wayne shook his head, huffed a laugh. So his boy liked boys — what’s the big deal? Wayne scratched teen pregnancy off his list of fatherly worries, kept calm and carried on. Eddie was Eddie, and Wayne loved him all the same.

The Harrington kid, that was the real curveball. Eddie and Billy had been palling around, getting along just fine, doing all the things that teenage couples do and pretending like they weren’t. They were no choir boys, and Wayne knew this, and they knew that Wayne knew, but their act was amusing all the same. So long as they were careful, so long as they were safe, Wayne didn’t much care what happened behind closed doors. Billy spent the night more often than not and Wayne was steady provider of a good $20 for pizza and beer and whatever else they could buy with the change. He nodded to Billy in the mornings, even helped him repair that stupid car of his after a crash by the old mill. Billy had been quiet but grateful, repeatedly telling Wayne that he could do it all on his own and repeatedly thanking him when Wayne told him that was bullshit and to hand him that there tool. (Eddie had tried to help, bless his heart, but his mechanical knowledge started and stopped in music production equipment; he’d settled for refilling the lemonade pitcher and fetching lunch from the diner down the road.)

But sometime around the spring of ‘86, Steve Harrington entered the mix.

Now, Wayne knew the Harringtons. Knew of them, at least. All hoity toity in their big Loch Nora house. He knew they traveled often and that they had high expectations of the son who scooped ice cream before that godforsaken mall burnt down. Eddie had mentioned Steve in passing. Wayne had chalked him off as a teen movie bully, larger than life until the tassel moved to the other side and they had to set foot in the mythical real world that had hovered over their pretty heads for four long years.

Maybe Steve was just a burnt out golden child on the hunt for some new fix. Maybe he was the disappointment his father always claimed he’d be, sinking low, low, low and self-medicating the trauma away. Or maybe, just maybe, there was something more to his visits to Forest Hills.

He’d snuck around at first, just like Billy had. Slipping in and out and suspecting that no one knew. Wayne, of course, did. He was aware of the goings on of his own home, thank you very much. He’d brushed it all off as nervous rich boy energy. The Harrington kid, he didn’t belong here, and he damn well knew that. He’d spent most of his high school days shitting on the poor kids who came home to vehicles instead of four solid walls, who bought their back-to-school clothes at the army surplus store, never once setting foot inside The Gap. He was out of place.

But it was more than that. Wayne learned this quickly, on a Saturday morning when an early phone call rang him in to an overtime shift at the plant. He’d rolled out of bed and brewed up his coffee and pushed open Eddie’s bedroom door to tell him goodbye. He’d expected Billy, to be quite honest. The boy has shed his shame by then, had cocooned himself in the safety of the Munson trailer. And he was there, back to the wall, body curled around Eddie as if Eddie were a life raft keeping him afloat (and Wayne did make a mental note to check up on the kid, lifeguard the lifeguard as it were, pull the boy ashore if he had to). But it was the boy on Eddie’s other side that gave Wayne pause.

There he was. Steve Harrington. Hair a mess, clad in one of Eddie’s heavy metal tee shirts he’d saved up to buy, one arm thrown across Eddie’s body, finger laced loosely with Billy’s. Eddie slept soundly between them, one arm protectively braced around Billy’s shoulders, the other pillowed behind Steve’s head.

And Wayne hovered in the doorway, taken aback.

But it makes sense, doesn’t it? All the times he’d come home to three of them lounging lazily on the couch. All the times Billy and Eddie had snuck out, a bit more suspicious than they usually were. The sightings of the Harrington boy, all flushed and nervous, always looking over his shoulder, as he sneaked away from the Munson trailer.

And, no, Wayne certainly does not get it.

But he does understand the way Eddie lights up when Steve comes knocking at the door. He understands the way Eddie squeezes Billy’s hand under the table. He understands the little glances shared by Billy and Steve, whole conversations silently exchanged. Individually, these things all make sense to Wayne. Collectively, he supposes they are no different. And so long as Eddie is happy, so long as Eddie smiles the way he does when Billy cracks an unexpected joke or Steve flubs some common idiom, Wayne supposes he doesn’t need to understand anything more.

#harringroveson #harringroveson fics #stedilly #steddilly #stilldie #metal sandwich #lex writes fics #y’all said mungrove & harringrove so #have wholesome uncle wayne accepting eddie’s polyamory #we love to see it

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jungle-angel · 8 months

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First Day Funny Business (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You had hoped that even though it was Amy's first day of school, that she would sleep in

A set of tiny little feet padded their way into your shared bedroom, hurrying with excitement. Rhett was still snoring the morning away covered only by the thin bedsheet and the turned down covers at his feet.

Amy bounded into the room, practically jumping right on top of Rhett and eliciting a groan from the deeply sleeping cowboy. "Daddy! Daddy! Uppie!" she cried. "Uppie! It's almost time for school!"

"Don't wanna go to school, Pumpkin," he groaned. "Ten more minutes."

"Mommy says you gotta get up," Amy informed him.

Rhett jokingly laid his dead weight into the mattress as Amy tried to pry him off of it, herself in turn, rolling off the bed with a yelp and a loud thump onto the floor, taking most of the bedsheet with her.

"Shit!" Rhett hissed when the cold air from the air conditioning hit him along with the realization that he was still in his tight black boxers. Thank God he hadn't been naked......that would have had Amy either asking questions or running around telling the differences between men and women.

"Alright Doodlebug," Rhett yawned. "C'mon downstairs and eat."

A madly giggling Amy raced down the steps with Rhett trailing slowly behind until he found himself in the kitchen with you. "Good morning Frankenstein," you joked, turning over the apple cinnamon pancakes you had been cooking.

Rhett grunted in response, doing his best Frankenstein impression before rubbing the grog off his face. He kissed your lips before grabbing a plate and sitting next to Amy.

"You excited sweet pea?" he asked, digging into the pancakes.

"Yeah," she chirped happily.

You listened to Rhett going back and forth with Amy, the two boys in your belly kicking up a storm at the scent of the pancakes and the chatter in the kitchen. Hannah, your two year old, came waddling in a minute later with her pink blankie and her hair sticking up at weird angles. Rhett lifted Hannah into his lap and kissed her pretty little cheeks, making her giggle as the stubble from his jaw tickled her sensitive skin.

"Alright, Doodlebug," Rhett said when he noticed the time on the digital stove clock. "Eat that last bite and then go get dressed."

Amy scarfed down the last bite of her pancakes and hurried upstairs to go get herself dressed. Sure as shit, she had picked out one of the outfits you and Rhett had gotten for her, a pretty little dark grey t-shirt with a big turquoise butterfly on it and the cute little denim shorts with the lacy trim around the legs. Amy even managed to get her little brown gladiator sandals onto her feet which flapped all over the hardwood floors in the halls.

"C'mon princess," Rhett told her, opening the door to the truck and buckling her in. He set her backpack down on the seat beside her, happy that her blanket and her circus clown plushie were already in her bag.

Rhett helped you in a minute later once Cecelia had come to look after Hannah. She gave Amy a kiss and wished her good luck and so didn't Royal, snapping a few pictures before the three of you had to be off. Amy waved to her grandparents until you had gotten all the way to the bottom of the driveway and turned onto the road that would only be a short, fifteen minute ride to the school.

"You good to go for today?" Rhett asked you.

"As far as lessons go? Yes," you told him. "Physically and mentally? That's debatable."

Rhett chuckled a little, finally pulling into the little Waldorf School that lay right in the middle of the woods, just up the path from the main school where you taught. Rhett had known almost every single teacher at the place whether it was from having to repair farm equipment, deliver calves and foals in the middle of the night or even from bartering with one another, Rhett knew almost the entire teaching faculty.

Rhett parked in the dirt lot and helped you out first, making sure you weren't hindered by your bump. Amy jumped out once she was unbuckled and the three of you walked right up the path to the little building where Claire O'Donnell was waiting for her.

"Good morning Miss Amy," Claire greeted cheerfully, shaking Amy's little hand. "How are you this morning?"

"Good," Amy chirped.

"Come on in sweetheart," Claire told her, shooing her inside the building to see her other teachers and classmates who were just beginning to arrive. "Now here's two other faces I haven't seen all summer."

"Claire, how are ya?" Rhett greeted, shaking her hand.

"Wonderful, wonderful," she laughed. "Listen, Rhett, Brian was asking if your father still had a gas can for us to use? The tractor has no fuel and we couldn't get downtown to get any yesterday."

"Yeah, stop on by whenever ya'll get a chance and we'll lend you some," Rhett answered. "Chances are, it'll either be me or Wes Redwood ya'll see out front."

"Oh thank you, you're an absolute lifesaver," Claire answered. "And just know that if you or your family need anything from us in return, just ring the doorbell and we'll do the same."

You and Rhett both bid her farewell before saying one last goodbye to Amy, Rhett and her forming a little heart with their hands before he walked you up the path to where the grade and high schools were located.

"Don't work too hard sweetheart," he said before he kissed you.

"You know I won't," you teased him before heading off.

The realization that Amy was finally in preschool didn't hit him until Rhett was driving home and Cecelia saw him step outta the truck with tears in his eyes.

"You ok Grumpy?" she asked him.

"Can't believe Doodlebug's growin up," he croaked, hugging his mother.

"I know sweetie, I know," Cecelia chuckled. "First days are always toughest."

Rhett laughed and followed his mother into the house to gather up whatever he needed for the day and to go help Wes. He left the house, heading for the truck once more to make his way over to the Granite Trail Reservation, turning only to see his mother and Hannah standing in the window, waving goodbye. Rhett didn't need to really hold back his emotions, but felt immense pride in his family, just as he was always meant to.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #royal x cecelia abbott #outer range

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darkdemeter · 13 days

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𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳'𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑬𝑴, 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN

Executioner! Bucky Barnes x Nun! Female Reader

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; || 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 : 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || ;

𝑶𝒉 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒚-𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒇𝒚, 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒙𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 — 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒔 — 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 — 𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕, 𝒆��𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔/𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 — "𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒚" (𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇) — 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏'𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 — 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 (𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕) 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 𝒂𝒖 — 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅/𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 — 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒊𝒕?

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; || 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 || ;

𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑽𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒎 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑼𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐'𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉.

|| 2.5K ; words ────────────────

◤𝐌-𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐗 : 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃◢

@mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos

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For where there is desolation, there is room for God. This is the belief you cling to in a gaze held to Fort Solitude and its surrounding lands. As its name suggests, the keep has stood lonesome and sullen over some decades, the village at its feet yearns for the same aid of repair. God’s aid. That which you are sent to provide.

“This is as far as I will go. The Lord’s infinite gift for strength that I do not wrangle Father Fury’s neck with a noose is futile.” Abbess Maria shuns the reclusive settlement with a look of irritation. You swallow thickly at the boldness of her confession. Tongue held in silence, your gloved hands squeeze the reins of your horse, you turn to blindness in favour of the growing anticipation that swells inside your chest and blooms brightly with your unshaken faith.

“I must venture forward now, alone,” you conclude, voice lilted behind a fleeting stream of breath that mists past your lips. She nods firmly, her jaw clenched.

You accept this. Understanding her position and that personal ties lay as opposing obstacles tend to entrap, you take no part in trying to sway her decision. “Shall Ser John escort you?”

“No, I can manage from here,” you answer evenly, eyes cast down to instead count the woven threads of the saddle’s pommel. Your lungs expand and your shoulders push with a deep inhale, the smell of rain lingering in the valley. Raising your focus back to Fort Solitude, you are swept in the renewing grace of God’s spirit.

He guides you now. You feel it.

“I am here for a purpose, it is God’s will that I go forth now, and with his light I will prevail. I promise, Abbess Maria, I will not— and they’re gone…” Only a cloud of dust resides where your escorts once were, long since vanished are the thundering applause of their escape.

‘Alone then, but with the Lord.’

“Very well, let us be off!” Lips folding out into a brimming smile and with chirpy tone, you sit a little straighter in your saddle and nudge your heel inward, riding down the spiraling dirt road as you take in the rolling hillside. From what you have been told by the higher council of the Vatican, the settlement has been absent in its presence, cut off from the rest of the world. Tucked into this darkened corner of the realm, your superiors wish to see its return to the fold, to become a beacon of hope and refuge once more.

Many of the sisters back home spoke in hushed tones when news spread of your newly elected station. That the residents of Fort Solitude were beyond saving, that their souls were condemned for eternity’s hellfire. And to that, you very much disagreed with. Because they spoke with spirits of fear and faith that wavered like a flame to a breeze. The abbey sang a chorus of sighing relief when their names were not summoned.

It makes you smile that this opportunity has been given to you. That this great task, no matter how bigger it may seem for someone of your inexperienced caliber, it can only mean that the Lord has set this plan for you. With a light-hearted hum on your tongue, you continue with a merry bounce in your saddled approach.

“What the fuck is that?” A woman of blonde hair sneers, lips screwed into a thinned line in her scrutinising glare. Joining her at the wooden fence, two other women also study the approaching form.

“Maybe she got lost?” suggests Wanda, her tone light with benefited doubt. Not that that swayed the mind of either woman beside her, their eyes still bearing the weight of their prowling judgment.

“Do you think Father Fury knows of this?”

“We’re at time to find out,” snorts the blonde haired, sauntering out past the fenced gate, the two women not too far behind. “Maybe she’s a gifted lamb for the headsman’s axe.”

“Sharon!” hisses both Wanda and Natasha, ignoring the way she practically moaned the words.

Sharon laughs, the sound a clouded abyss of sickness that hangs like an ominous storm. Not too long until the priest joins the growing community outside, his untaken eye spying your approach, your horse slowing to a trot at your gentle command.

“Greetings, Sister.”

“Father Fury,” you say in return, still adorning that bright and thoughtful smile, you take a moment to dismount. Your struggle, however, provides a much amusing sight for the villagers who snicker quietly amongst themselves.

Fury arches a brow and clears his throat, bringing a dismissing silence. Stumbling back a little, you turn to face the settlement’s priest with a victorious grin.

“Abbess Maria didn’t accompany you?”

“Hm? Oh, no, she erm… well, she was, but I uh…” Your move to gesture up towards the opening juncture of the valley where you’d come from, your grin falling into a grimace as each word became utterly futile.

“I thought it best to carry on alone.” You refrain from gulping too loudly.

“Of course. Come.” He beckons you forward with a wave of his hand and with a staggering attempt to bow, in courtesy of the mud trampling your resolve, you tug the reins and follow alongside him.

“Father, I’ve come to understand that there was an… incident involving the previous sister.” In the company of Fury, you believe there is no reason to hide the relation of fear you have regarding that particular detail.

“Yes, there was. Unfortunate in loss, rest her soul, now we’ve moved on.”

“Oh, I see…” The lax nature of his response leaves the beginnings of a bad taste on your tongue, dry and tart, but you push forward. You must look ahead if you are to get anywhere here.

“I’ve this letter from the Vatican, Father,” you begin with slight pause, procuring the sealed document from your safekeeping, you hand it to him. His eye glares down at you, a brow coiled up in his unspoken anguish, his suspicion of the Vatican all present in a single look.

He thanks you quietly under his breath and breaks the wax seal with a muffled pop and unfurls it, reading over its contents. For a moment you each stop and you take the opportunity to come to know what will be your supposed home now.

You cannot exactly say for sure how long you’ll be present at Fort Solitude. Only God knows. Casting the land in a graying gloom, the village is not the sight you’d heard in gossip. Much rather, it stands relatively still and otherwise, together, but the feel of it is… wrong. Tainted by darkness.

Colour appears to be washed out. A dull palette that grieves an aura of forsaken-hood.

‘Blue!’

Striking, the grandest and highest majesty of blue you’ve ever seen, and you’ve seen a lot of colour. But nothing like the marvellous hue of his eyes. And unblinking to a degree so unnerving you find it impossible to release a single ounce of breath, now held prisoner in your chest until the ripened bubble of explosion is upon you - ready to break you - but his penetrative gaze commands you to not give in.

A man with a powerful stride to his walk, a path carved by purpose, each step as lethal as the next and last; as everything that is him.

Your voice is suddenly lost. Incapable to bring yourself to question the priest of who the man dressed in dark clothing, and a heavy leather coat that flows at the muddy hem and dirtied boots. A clinking of leather straps and buckles looping this way and that over his broad form as he saunters alongside the keep’s walls, dark brown hair cascading down in framing locks, haphazardly pulled into a bun with no trace of neatness. A mask covers the lower of his face, concealing the remainder of his features and leaving you to the idea of imagination. A man of rugged charm.

Of sinful charm. A forbidden combination of feelings riles within you, stirring your skin to become reddened with blooming heat. You only pray to the Lord above that the overdrape of your cowl hides your manner of impropriety.

However, your entranced stare turns widened, the fast repetition of your heartbeat forces you to gasp, finally allowing your stilled breath free. In the weight of his fisted palm is the balancing beam of wood, anchored at its end a sharpened tool of bloodshed. A curved and very sharp blade. And freshly blooded. Need you ask, that is no longer necessary, to only realise that this man is an executioner.

“I see that Bishop Alexander is insistent on your work here,” Father Fury says, beckoning your attention.

With a shake of your head you rid away the impure thoughts that threaten you, repelling them with a clearance of mind and throat. You must focus. You are here to help, to offer yourself as a vessel for God’s help. You cannot simply be distracted by a pair of beautiful eyes - no matter how enchanting - you are a sworn sister of the church.

“Very well. By this letter, it appears that you are one of astute read, and willed strongly in your duties.”

“Words spoken kindly… but yes, that is what defines my repute, Father.” A deflection of the praise, your tone reserved and soft.

Yes, Bishop Alexander spoke highly of your work and commitment to the order, and your unwavering faith and loyalty. For each struggle is a mere trial you are meant to overcome. An admirable quality. Amongst many things, your tendency to lend help to the city’s streets, at times from dawn to dusk, captured the attention of the Vatican’s council. And thus, it was brought to attention that Fort Solitude remained an outskirted fortress, unyielding to rejoin the outer community. And you would be sent to do what you do best.

“Indeed, kind. But I’d wager flattery first and foremost.” The plainness of his comment rears its ugly head. You sputter over your words that come out as a series of contorted starters and ends, noises he assumes will be frequent.

“W-why would the Bishop - or anyone - need to flatter me?”

His hand waves in gesture to dismiss your ensuing shock. “Don’t take to it, Sister, perhaps to get closer to God through you.”

Your lips pinch and purse together, your eyes rolling over the mystery of the executioner's sudden disappearance and Father Fury. “I-I don’t… understand your meaning.”

All it took was a simple glance of his good eye and bow of his head, and a sudden chill creeps into your skin like claws. Your body involuntarily shivers, an unsettled grimace upon your visage. “Ew…”

You dare not dwell on such paths of thought. To cure the churning disease that is that concept, you tilt your chin high to take in the fort, its walls old and worn, but still bearing strength in its foundations. A once respectable court and haven for the old knights brotherhood, the Templars, the fort’s survival for all these years is remarkable.

God hasn't given up on this refuge. No matter the trying of the enemy, His will would not be defeated. This line of thought that distracts you brings you to smile, forcing away any disturbed topic prior.

“It is getting late.” He draws your attention to the sun that levels low over the mountain ridge, though its presence is masked by the thick smog of overcasting clouds. “I’ll have James show you to your quarters.”

Akin to the innocence of a pup, your head cocks to the side, voice inflecting with keen curiosity. “James?”

The older man answers your inquiry with a summon, calling over the man you presume is this ‘James’, your jaw slackens the moment you come to see those alluring pools of heaven’s blue.

‘Grant me your strength, Heavenly Father, for this man is dangerous.’

He discards his mask as he walks towards you, eyes shifting from yours to Fury, brows pressed firm into a furrowing glare. “James, this is Sister L/N, I ask that you show her to her respective room.”

James chuffs a haughty breath through his nose, as if to snicker in his contemplative annoyance, he nods obediently to the now retreating priest and then looks to you. For a moment, he just stares, the affect of it is potent, it begins to play your mind in ways you did not think capable of a mortal man.

You’re unsure what exactly it is that traverses the process of his mind, his expression impenetrable to reading, all you can do is give him a wide smile, but otherwise that feels like it’s too much. For a moment you think you see something move beneath the placidity of this man, a startled view in the reflection of his hues, like he’s never seen anyone smile at him before; at least not like you.

“So the Vatican sent another one.”

A rather interesting first impression but you would take it. You nod, perhaps a bit too much with enthusiasm, you answer with a definite and pronounced, “Yes.”

His gloved hand wrestles the reins from your own and he walks without so much as another glance or word. Fisting the skirt fabric of your long, black grown to hop over a puddle, you’re at his heel as he leads you through the iron gates and into the large courtyard.

“I am sure Father Fury has spoken of my arr—”

His interjection comes bluntly and swiftly, “Not really.”

‘Uh…’

His hair dances the line of his heightened collar to peer over his shoulder and down at you. Quickly, you cast your eyes down to the ground, inspecting the water-lined footprints and minute details, he only hums in what you either calculate to be in amusement or relief. As to what personalised goal, you cannot fathom. Willing to remain in control of yourself, you puff the contouring of your mouth with air and continue.

“I see. Well, as evidently as it is, I am here to provide solace and comfort to those of Fort Solitude.”

“As was the last,” he whistles aloud over the gust of wind that howls downwards from the mountains, the power of it forces the tresses of your clothing to flutter about madly. Harbouring your horse in the nearby stables, he passes the duty of her care onto the stable-hand, before he unstraps your bag from the saddle.

When you try to reach for it, he swings it over his shoulder, cocking a brow at you with a bout of skepticism over your actions. You huff shortly in reply, “You needn’t carry my belongings, I can— and he’s gone…” the last of which is muttered under your breath.

‘What is it with this man?’

You have to lift the skirts of your gown again to hurry after him towards the keep, a small yelp catches in your throat from almost tripping through a puddle, he eyes you warily once at the heavy, wooden doors. Smoothing down the fabric of your gown and regaining your composure, you motion for him to continue with an eager and bright smile.

The only thing he can think in that moment as he pushes the doors open with a howling bellow of its aged hinges, is that you smile at him too much, with far too much hope in those eyes of yours.

“Welcome to Fort Solitude, Sister.”

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#bucky barnes column #the demeadery #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #female reader #executioner bucky barnes #historical fantasy au #bucky barnes au #nun reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #beefy bucky #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader

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chaosheadspace · 3 months

Note

very curious about Nightmare Hob :0 !!

Good pick! This would have been my big bang fic if I would have had the time for the big bang (I dropped out).

Essentially Hob starts dreaming of the heart of the Dreaming after 1989 and starts repairing it, slowly making his way to the castle. Because he's there every single night (in this people are supposed to mostly stay in their own dreamscapes) he absorbs some of it's power. Eventually, he rescues Dream from the fishbowl.

Snippet:

Robert Goulding streaks his hair with artificial white and lines his face with wrinkles that are not of wisdom and age but of carefully applied paint and lies. Robert Goulding uses some of his carefully placed investments to build a new inn, *the* New Inn, out of nostalgia for the old one. Robert Goulding dies of an unfortunate heart attack at fifty-seven, and in his place steps his long lost Nephew, Robert Gadling, with every intention of honouring his uncle's memory and keeping the pub running.

He is a teacher, and he enjoys football, and sorting out new menus for the pub. He is fast friends with most of his employees, he is kind, he grows out his hair again. Slipping on his true name feels good. It would feel better if someone would call him Hob.

When Hob dreams, he dreams of the road, of the wasteland, of the distant promise of a destination. He walks. The ruin does not come closer. It is the only thing he dreams of, now. Hob would suspect that being ditched broke him, somehow, were it not for the deep sense of peace he feels every night.

After two weeks, he gets tired of it. He sits down right there on the road, digs his fingers into the dirt between the stones and looks up into the never changing blue sky and sighs. He has yet to meet another living being.

After a while he focuses on his surroundings, the dusty, barren earth, and picks up a loose stone that belonged to the road once. He digs about a bit, pushes his fingers into the soil next to his knee, where a brick is missing. Shoves the stray one into the hole he made, and feels like he accomplished something, certainly more than he ever did walking. At least he gave that poor old road something back.

The stone doesn't quite fit, jutting out a bit above its neighbours. If only he had—

There's a clatter next to his knee, and when he looks, there lies a bricklayer’s wooden hammer. With a satisfied sound, Hob picks it up and puts the brick in properly. It makes perfect sense to him like this. He needed a hammer, and so he got one. When the brick is level with the one next to it, it changes.

The vibrancy of its colour intensifies, and it fills out into the shape it must have had a very long time ago, almost like it had drawn a breath. The one next to it changes, too. Hob makes another pleased sound, a sound of wonder. He digs away more dirt on the other side of the brick and uses his fingers to right the brick beside it that had been pushed over and down into the earth. When it touches the other ones, it changes, too.

Yes, this is better than wandering, Hob decides. He twirls the hammer once, and gets to work.

#the sandman #Tag game #Chaosheadspace's writing

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julesofnature · 4 months

Text

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each other’s eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair. Someone is trying to make music somewhere, with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum, with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky. A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin. We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed, words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of some one and then others, who said I need to see what’s on the other side. I know there’s something better down the road. We need to find a place where we are safe. We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain: that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign, the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables. Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself, others by first do no harm or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love? Love beyond marital, filial, national, love that casts a widening pool of light, love with no need to pre-empt grievance. In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, any thing can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp, praise song for walking forward in that light. — Praise Song for the Day By Elizabeth Alexander

#Elizabeth Alexander

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dearestspirit · 1 year

Text

dream

-> diluc x gn!reader

-> exes to lovers, slight angst but happy ending

-> wc: 2995

-> note: deals with some of diluc's backstory (i may have gotten some aspects of it wrong but that's in order to insert the reader into it and have it make sense). also reader has a vision/weapon but i don't specify what element/type they are

rain pours from the sky, muddying your boots as you walk along the dirt path. it was likely that the thunder and lightning would start soon, making you hurry your steps. you were on a journey from the city of mondstadt to liyue harbor. the trip would overall take four days (and another four back)– though the current weather would delay your travel by some time. unfortunately, this stretch of road had almost no places to take up shelter in. having just come from springvale, it'd take some time until you reached any other people. especially consider the next inhabited place you'd get to would be dawn winery. if there wasn't any lightning by the time you made it there, you reasoned with yourself, you'd keep going right past it. of course, the weather was not in your favor.

lightning began to strike, making you jump at the volume. huffing, you pull your cart of belongings behind you, trying to trudge faster through the soggy ground. the wheels bump through stray rocks, exerting much of your energy to keep it on track. you emerge through the heavy covering of trees to come face to face with the dawn winery. warm lights flood from the window panes, looking welcoming. still, it brought a tinge of nausea to your stomach. would it be worth it to knock on the door and see if they had a spare room? you figured the chances of diluc being there were low, and trying to hunker down and make your own shelter would likely result in some sort of injury to yourself. plus, adelinde was always extremely kind, so surely she'd allow you to stay at least until the rain passed. sighing, you clumsily heave the cart up the stone steps to the front door. knocking, you immediately hear steps making their way over, opening the door.

you fumble around with the items in your cart to avoid looking at her, embarrassed at your current predicament. "miss adelinde, i apologize for the sudden intrusion. is it possible i could come inside until the rain passes?" a long pause of silence follows your question. growing slightly irritated, you look up. "sorry, if i can't stay-"

oh.

"diluc." you mutter, feeling as if your luck's growing worse by the minute.

"(name)," he says, eyes boring into yours. "it's been quite some time. i'll call for adelinde to bring you in. leave your cart outside, it'll be taken care of."

"actually, i think i'll be on my way," you mumble, waving him off. "sorry to have bothered you."

"don't be foolish," his voice is stern, quickly taking hold of your wrist as you turn away. "there's no shelter for miles. it's not safe for you to be out."

"fine. only until the weather eases, then i'll be out of your way." you sigh, letting go of the cart's handle and allowing yourself to be gently tugged indoors. finally shielded from the rain, you notice how drenched your clothes are. a sudden chill runs up your spine, hugging your arms close to yourself.

"i'll have adelinde fetch you some clothes." those are the last words you hear from diluc as he shuts the door behind you and disappears further into the winery.

you let your eyes wander through the scenery, taking in the warm candlelight. the rug below you starting to soak up the drops of water that cascade off of you. part of you feels guilty, wondering if it'd damage the fabric in any significant way. almost every item in this place cost more mora than you'd see in your lifetime. multiple lifetimes, really.

as if she read your mind, adelinde is quick to speak up when she sees you. "don't worry about getting anything wet," she says, handing you a fluffy towel. "i assure you we can pay for any necessary repairs. just pat yourself down, then i'll escort you to the bath where you can wash and change."

"and where will i be staying?" you inquire, hands working to dry off any excess rain.

adelinde takes the towel from you, dabbing off a few places you couldn't reach.

"well…" she mumbles, eyes downcast as she fiddles with the towel in her hands. "since this is such short notice, we are unable to have a spare room prepared for you. we currently have some family of staff staying as guests, so…"

"so i can't stay?" you ask, worried about where you'll go for the night.

"you'll have to spend the night in master diluc's room, i'm afraid." her voice is nervous, treading lightly as if on eggshells.

you sigh, shaking your head with a clenched jaw. "i won't like it, but as it's only for one night i'll just have to make do. i appreciate that you've done what can be done, at least." despite your feelings towards diluc, there was no reason for you to harbor any ill will towards adelinde.

"i see. come, your bath should be drawn by now. i've arranged it so that spare clothes will be ready for you there as well." she takes you by the elbow, guiding you throughout the manor. you watch the walls pass by, noting how little had changed since you were last here. it left a somber ache in your chest, choosing instead to keep your eyes towards your feet. adelinde quickly ushers you into a fanciful bathroom, bubbly water steaming in a pristine tub.

"you can leave your clothes in here once you're finished, i'll collect them and make sure they're clean for you in the morning," she points towards a basket in the corner of the room. "conveniently, we found some of your old sleep clothes here from… well, anyway, i'll be outside. just knock when you've finished washing and dressing. i'll bring you to diluc's room."

"i know how to get there, you can go if you have other duties. i don't mind taking myself there." you say, knowing the way to his room was practically etched into your memory.

"of course. take care, (name)." she bows, curtsying her uniform and stepping out of the bathroom.

you start to peel the wet clothes off, fabric clinging to your cold skin. clumping them together into the basket, you finally submerge yourself into the warm bath water. the gentle scent of lavender wafts throughout the room, calming your anxiety ridden thoughts. diluc was right. it had been quite some time since you'd last seen each other, much less last time you actually spoke to each other. your life now consisted of frequently avoiding his tavern and the winery as a whole, so any chances of stumbling upon each other were slim. no matter how much the citizens of mondstadt would try to drag you to a tavern, you always insisted against it. truthfully, it had become a bit exhausting. this whole time trying to convince yourself you didn't care about what happened between you two… would you be acting this way if you really didn't care?

shaking yourself out of your thoughts again, you focus on scrubbing the rainwater off of you. combing your nails through your scalp, you sigh at the cleansing feeling of the shampoo. rinsing any suds off yourself, you hurry to dry and redress yourself. maybe ridiculous, but you felt if you went through the motions faster that the night would end and you could be on your way. clothed, you find yourself almost trembling as you open the door, thrust back into the reality of where you were.

the hallway rug is soft beneath your bare feet, comforting you as you close the bathroom door. your body is on autopilot as you head to diluc's room, hand coming up to gently knock at his door. his room is secluded, far off in the back of the manor. that fact used to bring you a sense of relief– the sense that it was just you and him. now, the thought made you a bit anxious. no, you weren't scared of diluc himself, rather, the confrontation that was sure to occur. you shift your weight between your feet, patiently waiting for diluc to either tell you to come in or open the door himself.

moments later, the door opens to reveal diluc. he's shed himself of his normal attire, adorned in his sleepwear. he clears his throat, eyes trailing over your frame as he inspects your own clothing. it was a matching pair that kaeya had gifted to you to give to diluc, as a joke. he had given it to you with a smile, mentioning something about you two being lovebirds. the memory stung a bit now, having been replaced with kaeya's sympathetic gazes towards you. diluc shuffles around, holding the door open and gesturing you inside. much like the other rooms of the manor, not much had changed. he watched as your eyes roamed the room, landing on a few picture frames upon his nightstand. one of crepus, and one of the two of you together. you turn to him, mouth opening to question him about it. the question dies in your throat, mouth closing as your thoughts run wild.

"(name)..." his whisper is raspy, reaching out. when his fingers brush across your arm, he almost winces at the touch. shocked that you're really there. pulling back, he breaks eye contact. "i won't force you, but we really should talk."

"i'm not sure there’s much left to say." you blatantly lie, fully aware that he can tell.

"even if that were true for you, it certainly isn't for me," he says, hand falling to the small of your back as he gestures for you to sit at the edge of his bed. across the room, he moves to sit on a sofa, facing you. "i've had lots of time to think about what happened."

you scoff at his words, crossing your arms. "so have i. four years of thinking, actually."

he nods, yet doesn't say anything. you assume he expects you to continue, so you do.

"you didn’t tell me you were leaving. not even a letter goodbye," your voice is immediately wobbly upon recalling the events. "you didn't write to me a single time. all i had to get by were vague hints that you were alive from kaeya. it seems that you wrote to everyone except me. it's not that i don't understand why you left, i do. and i don't have any resentment for you leaving. i know i would've done the same. but… i would've supported you, diluc. so why didn't you let me? why'd you have to push me away?” your voice gets hoarse, throat rough with emotion. your fists curl into the fabric of your sleepwear, shutting your eyes tight to ignore the urge to cry.

you hear him sigh, the creak of the sofa alerting that he's stood up. he makes his way over to you, sitting down. your legs touch, a faint hint of heat in your cheeks. it had been so long, yet still he made you feel shy somehow. his hand comes to rub at your back, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of the button up. he always ran hot, something that brought you a lot of comfort. after spending the night in the rain, you could feel yourself leaning into the feeling.

"it wasn't that i didn't want you, nothing like that," he says, gaze fixed on you. "i was dealing with dangerous people. even i barely escaped death a few times. if i had written to you, or you to me, and one of my letters were to get intercepted? if they learned who you were to me? i wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you due to my actions. i couldn't let you get hurt. why i left was entirely related to what happened before. i… care for you a great deal. please understand." diluc wasn't one to lie about something like this. he was raised to be an honest, good man, and he never strayed from that. even with your history, you could tell his words were sincere.

"diluc… as i've already said, i do understand why you left," you say, looking up at him. "i have my own vision, and i'm more than capable of handling my weapon. do you really think that i couldn't handle myself if someone were to go after me? kaeya told me some of what you dealt with. traveling teyvat, going into snezhnaya, fighting fatui. i've had my fair share of run-ins with their agents. i'm still here.”

"i don't think you're weak at all," he's quick to say, understanding your insecurities with your strength. "i, perhaps foolishly, thought that these actions would leave you the most unscathed. i was dealing with one of the highest echelons of the fatui, i didn't want… i didn't want them to use you against me, or mondstadt, even. after the things that happened with my father, i became even more protective of the places and the people that i… love." you can see the way he gulps, looking away once he finishes his sentence.

you blink, trying to process his words. of course, before his departure, you had been together. you two were much younger back then, not having the courage to speak those words– 'i love you' was not necessarily a need when it showed endlessly in your care towards each other.

"do… you still feel that way?" you ask, voice timid.

"protective? or the other thing?" he nudges his shoulder against you, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"diluc," you groan, exasperated. "you know what i meant."

he laughs, a deep chuckle from his chest. the hand on your back trails upwards, cupping your cheek in his palm. his thumb caresses the skin there. "to answer your question, yes. i do still feel that way." his voice is breathy, barely reaching your ears.

swallowing thickly, you fiddle with your hands in your lap. "i think… i do too. even when you left, i was upset, but… i was worried most of all," you sniffle, a tear dropping down to diluc's thumb. you can feel him tremble, frowning at the sight. "i thought i'd never see you again. i know you're strong, and so, so capable, but… it felt like every day i had to grapple with the fact you might be dead. so when you came back, i wasn't ready to process that you were alive."

"i'm sorry." diluc says, heavy with regret.

"don't apologize," you shake your head, hand coming up to wrap around his wrist that's holding your cheek. turning your head, you let your lips press against his palm. "i understand now why you did what you did. i'm sorry it took so long for us to talk about it."

a blush settles on his face, the red practically glowing in the lamplight of his room. despite his flustered state, he doesn't look away or move his hand. "what happens now?"

"well, tomorrow i have to set off for my journey to liyue once more. when i return, perhaps we could spend some time together?" you tell him, trying to not be too forward or rush headfirst into anything.

"i think that's an excellent idea," he finally removes his hand from your face, standing up from the bed. "i'll put out the lanterns, i believe it's time for us to rest. you have a long expedition ahead of you."

"i know," you exaggerate a sigh, flopping back against the bed. "almost a whole week and a half without me, whatever shall you do?"

he laughs, shaking his head. "yes, it will be terribly long without you." he falls forward, laying next to you, gently slinging an arm over your waist.

blushing at the close contact, you put a hand on his chest to keep some space between you two. "you've gone longer without me, haven't you?"

"yes," diluc sighs, a hint of sorrow behind it. "but now that i know you're here once more? now that we know of each other's true feelings… it seems even more difficult to not be beside you."

"i'm sure you'll manage," you mumble, arms wrapping around his neck to ruffle into his hair. "though i wouldn't mind company during my travels, at least until i'm out of mondstadt."

his eyes widen briefly, a subtle smile making its way onto his face. "i'm sure that could be arranged. that's not too long that it'll disrupt any of my personal duties." he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"seems like you're feeling affectionate." you say, secretly thrilled to be so close to him again.

"forgive me," he mumbles, sheepish. "i've had many dreams like this. of you coming back to me. i suppose i'm eager to see you… and to feel you near me."

"dreams?" you ask, curious.

"don't tease, but yes," using his strength he pulls you even closer to him, relishing in the warmth. "like i said, i care for you deeply. i've always wanted to be with you. it seems even my dreams were aware of that fact."

"i hope that having me back is better than your dreams, then," you turn to your side to face him, bringing your arm around him to place a hand between his shoulder blades. "i have longed to feel you near me as well, diluc."

he hums, chest rumbling against you. "tomorrow, when we wake, if you'll let me… i'd like to kiss you. for now, i'd like to keep you warm throughout the night." he noses at the juncture of your neck, tickling the skin there with his breath.

you nod, already feeling the drowsiness settle into your bones as you lay together. "it's been a while since i've slept this warmly. i'm happy to have you here, diluc." you tell him, your whisper fading into the night.

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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fangirlingfromdownunder · 3 months

Text

Comfort in a House in the Mountains

Summary - Part 52 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: I’m so sorry guys, another shorter one this week. I haven’t been well and so have struggled to focus on writing. I hope you enjoy it anyway. And thanks again for your continued support (likes, reblogs and comments), it means a lot to me.

You and Dean stand on either side of Destiny, each holding one of her hands and letting her jump and swing between you, like any toddler would, as you climb up the steep dirt road towards the stunning wooden house. A dense forest surrounds the property, its trees painted in warm hues of gold and amber from the cool morning sun. As you walk, Dean's keen hunter instincts kick in. He looks around cautiously for any signs of movement in the trees, knowing this area would be prime real estate for many monsters, especially werewolves, and with a pup playing between you, he knows you’re all a clear target.

Once you get close enough to fully admire the house, Destiny says, “It’s like a cottage from those fairy tales.” You look at her and smile.

“It is, isn’t it?” You chuckle at her child-like innocence while Dean raises an eyebrow, sceptical about the fairy tale comparison. You know he has had many bad experiences with things from fairy tales in the past so you just offer him a smile. “Give it a chance.”

He scans the surroundings one last time before leading the three of you into the house. The real estate agent greets you at the entry. “Welcome! Feel free to take a look around and let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thanks,” you say as you continue to walk through the house. Dean makes his way into the spacious two-car garage first, making sure the space is adequate for housing his precious Baby. He smiles, nods and then continues down the hall with you and Destiny to explore the guest living area opposite the garage. With a proper home and on the other side of the hunting game, you hope to be able to welcome more visitors even if it is just Sam or Garth and his family. The downstairs consists of a large open plan area with a kitchenette, ensuite and plenty of room for a couch, queen bed, table and chairs. Making it more than adequate for any potential guests.

Destiny starts climbing the stairs ahead of you and you both follow her up the main floor. You admire the wooden, log cabin-esque walls and surrounds on the windows and double doors leading out to the wrap-around balcony. A large stone fireplace adorns the wall in the centre of the room. You imagine yourself wrapped up in Dean’s arms laying on a comfy couch in front of a crackling fire with a decorated fir tree in the corner, while you watch the snow fall outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. You smile at the image in your mind; Dean softly squeezes your hand as he pulls you towards the balcony where Destiny is already exploring. With your mind back on the here and now, you follow them outside and take in the mountainous view that’s even more breathtaking from up here. Destiny climbs up on the edge of a built-in hot tub and swishes her hands in the bubbling water. This area would be perfect for relaxing with your family, Dean grilling up burgers while you sip wine in the hot tub while Destiny splashes around beside you.

You turn away from the view to meet Dean’s eyes. “Can’t you imagine us here? Enjoying our first retirement here in the mountains as we raise our little girl. Relaxing out here or in there by the fire after you’ve had a long day training hunters or repairing cars.”

Dean nods slowly. He kisses your head and then scans the woods again. “If we’re gonna live here there’s a few more places we have to check out,” he says as he wraps an arm around your waist. “Hey, Dee, come on. We’re going back inside,” he calls in her direction.

She quickly and carefully climbs off the edge of the hot tub and hurries over to catch up with you then stays a few steps ahead. You all check out the bedrooms, and then the storage and office space upstairs, a space that will surely be filled with a selection of hunting tools and books if you move in. Back on the main level you finish the inspection in the kitchen. It has everything you need, for Dean or you to cook delicious meals, all with an unhindered surrounding view of the forest and mountains.

Pulling you into his chest, Dean says, “At least we’d always be able to see if anything’s coming.” Then he leans closer to your ear and lowly says, “I’d love to watch you coming in front of this view.”

Your breath hitches and your heart races. You don’t dare look at him as he kisses your cheek and pulls away. Just as you’re composing yourself, you hear the real estate agent come back into the kitchen. “So, what do you think?” She asks.

Dean looks at you and then Destiny. He smiles and then says, "It's got character, that's for sure. I like it.”

You spin around and hug him. “I really think it could be a good place for us.”

“Excellent! I knew this property had potential. Let’s discuss details.” She places her briefcase on the bench and pulls out a stack of paperwork and a pen. “Now, I'll be honest. This house has been on the market for a while. It's got history, and some folks believe it's haunted, but that's just local folklore, right?”

You and Dean exchange a knowing look, acknowledging the truth behind the supernatural tales surrounding the house. Despite the potential risks, the allure of a peaceful, secluded life away from the constant dangers of hunting is appealing. Plus, neither of you noticed any signs of a haunting while exploring the property. There are no cold spots or strange sounds, and the EMF detector hidden away in Dean’s jacket pocket continues to hum away quietly.

“We're not afraid of a little history. What's the asking price?”

The agent smiles, clearly happy at the potential of finally selling off the property. “I can work with you on the price, especially considering the, uh, unusual circumstances. Let's talk financing and closing dates. We can make this your home in no time.”

As the conversation delves into paperwork and negotiations, Destiny wanders around the room, staring out at the view.

Once you and Dean finish signing the paperwork, the agent produces a set of keys, dangling them enticingly. “Once we close the deal, these keys will open the door to your new chapter. Are you ready to make this house your own?”

You and Dean share a determined nod, your decision made. You both know you’re not just purchasing a house; you’re stepping into a new chapter of your lives, one that promises a semblance of normalcy in a world filled with the supernatural unknown.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78, @canyouimaginethatstory, @mrlonelycat, @roseblue373, @staley83

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff

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