#looks at my abandoned rewrite

[randomositycat]

"Oh it probably wont get worse than Nightmare Moon trying to being forth an eternal night"

All 3 rulers of Equestria get drained of all of their magical ability and chained up in whats essentially pony hell and MC has to watch her friends get kidnapped + watches another faithless god barter with kmart Satan to not turn the land into a country sized graveyard, only for said god to get crushed under satan's foot and suffer the same fate as the rulers and it leaves MC kamehameha'ing Satan b4 he gets destroyed by rainbow friendship magic <3 by what, thats end of season 4 right?

Mlp is goated i will not argue about this

[666writingcafe]

Michael's Report

Zephyr is not as they seem. Not only are they not a demon, but they aren't of this time. Their actual identity is a human named MC who comes from an alternate future universe where the prince's school flourishes enough that he's able to establish an exchange program across the three realms. MC was accompanied here by the sorcerer Solomon, and apparently they're his apprentice. So, as the youth would say, red flag number one.

Number two would be their relationship with the brothers. In their world, MC has formed pacts with all of them. An ordinary human shouldn't have survived that process that many times, especially with all seven Avatars, which suggests that they are no ordinary human. I now understand your concern completely, for a human powerful enough to control the Avatars of Sin could spell destruction for the Celestial Realm and threaten your position of power.

But, I hear you say in my head, we were able to defeat the brothers last time. How could a human change our odds of victory should another war emerge?

And to that, I'd say that the brothers wouldn't be alone. MC has some amount of control over the prince, his butler, the sorcerer, and even one of our own. Not through magic, but something else: love. For reasons unknown to me at this moment, everyone I've mentioned is drawn to MC like a bunch of tiny moths surrounding a flame. If something were to happen to the human, I have no doubt in my mind that they would tear apart the very cosmos just to save them.

MC appears to be their idol, and I do not say that lightly. If it weren't for the nature of their appearance here, I would suggest we eliminate the threat immediately, but the damage that would cause to the fabric of space and time would be far greater than anything the human would be capable of doing. However, once they return to their place in the universe, we need to draw up plans. If we can get them to cooperate with us, then we can avoid another war, but if not, then we can't be caught off guard like last time.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[watchyourdigits]

I am re-reading Night Letter and am realizing I didn't do nearly enough research into scar tissue as I should have 💀 I spent hours researching lavender marriages and U.S. Army dog tags from the 1950s (as well as ranks and dismissals and such) instead of researching one of the defining characteristics of the main character, aka his severe facial scarring.

Anyway here I am retconning his scars - they are hypertrophic NOT keloid. That is entirely on me because I didn't know what the fuck the term was for it and assumed that if they were raised then they HAD to be keloids. I'm so sorry for this. Like deeply.

For those who don't know the difference, I don't recommend looking up pics unless you're okay with seeing mild medical g*re. Brief description of the aforementioned scar types:

Keloid: raised, shiny, firm & rubbery in texture with no distinct pattern. Caused by an excess of collagen deposits during the healing process. These scars invasively extend PAST the area of the original wound and do not regress over time. Hard to treat. Can form over months to years after an injury. More common in black folks and other melanated people who have a family history of keloid scarring.

Hypertrophic: raised, but not to the degree of keloids, and can also be different colors and usually have a distinct wavy pattern due to collagen deposits. Also caused by an excess of collagen, but not to the extent of keloids. These scars do NOT extend past the area of the original wound, typically do not recur, and CAN regress over time. Typically appear within a month of two of an injury and do not continue to progress (typically begin to regress actually).

I'm attaching an image below the cut comparing the two.

Left is keloid, right is hypertrophic. You'll see the difference. It's easy to confuse them because they're similar in depiction, but this is a good visual example of exactly HOW they are different. Raised scars =/= keloids!!! Do NOT be a fool like me!!!!

[shenzaibird-art]

A re-edit of an old traditional art doodle. Just fixed the eye and made it red :3 It's Seir, from the story that I'm totally not neglecting in favor of other stories nah. Originally did this when posting Chapter1 of the story, somehow that was 2 years ago...

[emdotcom]

Hisuian Zoroark is one of the sickest designs in pokemon, but the model on that bloke is FUCKED. It's really bad. If they bother to port her over to other games, you know they ain't changing that model, either, 'cept to make the textures paler & duller.

I continue to despise pokemon, despite being a pokemon fan, I fucken guess. At this point, I gotta go all in on summat else, like Cassette beasts.

[thecryptidenthusiast]

I've been meaning to ask since you rbed my Graphne fic! but what is your Button like for Mind Blind?? Feel very free to ignore this haha just curious!!! (-wayhavenots :) )

Omg your Graphne fic was so cute!! I’d love to know more about Daphne, she seems so fun!

So I haven’t actually played MB since before the author started rewriting it, and I stopped right around when Noh’s identity was revealed? So my Button is most likely VERY outdated Alskdld. But her name was Logan, and she was just…sad lol. A lot of guilt over everything that happened. She truly felt like she messed up her family, and made everybody’s lives harder being around.

I had planned on having her romance Gray, and then thought about maybe Noh? Before the reveal happened which totally derailed that lmao

[jessfromouterspace]

and if I actually drew out this sketch of fugitive hawke and anders, then what

[outpost-31]

might have to abandon streetlights. I've already removed it and I'm probably just gonna rewrite the chapter and publish what I have because I'm not happy with it and certainly not confident in my ability to write these characters . honestly I started it because hey it was a fun idea but I'm just not gonna be able to do it. I overestimate myself when it comes to projects sometimes and it isn't even that big of one. maybe 10 chapters at the most. just frustrated. I'll update later

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Teaser

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is a yandere fic. The whole oneshot will be uploaded in Tumblr. A gift to you as celebration for my 6K followers! Thank you sooooo much for all the interactions and screaming with me about my stories <333

You froze in front of the mirror, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. The face staring back at you was undeniably familiar but was definitely not yours. It was her—the woman from the manhwa.

Your hand lifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and touched your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. The reflection mimicked your every move, except there was no mistake: it wasn’t you. This version of you was flawless—her skin porcelain smooth, her lips full and painted in a soft, understated pink. You blinked hard, willing the image to change, but it remained the same, impossibly perfect.

And then it hit you, harder than any realization should have: You were in her world. You were in her body. You were the second female lead.

What the fuck was this dream?!

You pinched yourself, willing yourself to wake up from this peculiar dream where you were not you, and instead, you were someone of a fictional character. All that it did was reddened her fair skin. You truly tried not to panic, but no one and nothing could have ever prepared you from waking up in someone else’s body! More so of a fictional one. Similarly, you knew this could not be possible. You must have been dreaming.

You were just dreaming…right?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your stupor, your mind reeling as the panic tightened its grip.

“Miss? Sir Yoongi is here to see you,” the voice outside the door called, timid, hesitant.

You blinked, the words barely registering at first. Yoongi? No. No, no, no. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and the world around you seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky, disbelieving breath.

"Y-yoongi?" Your voice sounded strange, foreign in this body, yet with an edge of authority, the voice of someone accustomed to being looked at, obeyed.

“N-no. Why?”

“T-to visit you, Miss. He went straight here from the airport after his three-month work in New York,” she explained with a terrified tone in her voice as though one wrong word would upset you. It did upset you upon horrifying realization that you were in the first chapter of the manhwa. He was coming to see the second female lead, the one who would only ever be a part of his life for the briefest, most painful moments. The one who would disappear when the main female lead entered the picture, leaving behind nothing but heartache and regret.

This was the moment—the beginning of her unraveling. The beginning of your unraveling.

You stumbled back from the mirror, almost tripping over the hem of the silk nightgown that clung to your skin. It felt wrong. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you. You couldn’t be her. You couldn't.

But there you were—she was—standing in front of a mirror, and it was your face that stared back, the same face that would soon be abandoned in favor of the main lead. The face that would die tragically, just as Yoongi chose someone else.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin as you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart race, the pulse throbbing in your throat. The maid outside the door was waiting. She was waiting. Yoongi was waiting.

“Miss? Are you coming?” The maid asked again, sounding more nervous now. “Sir Yoongi is waiting.”

You felt your legs walked to where the door was as though they had a mind of their own, as though they were simply following the plot where you had to face her childhood bestfriend, as though you had no choice in this. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and the maid stepped back with a small, nervous bow. “Miss,” she murmured softly, her eyes flicking between you and the hallway.

There he was. Yoongi. Standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

His broad back was turned to you, his focus was on the huge window overlooking the garden below. His hands were in his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the bags of designer clothes and jewelries beside him. It was always like this. Yoongi would spoil her with everything, his love a quiet promise wrapped in material things. His affection was given in expensive packages, just because he missed her. It was a thing the main lead, Yoongi, and her had for the longest times. He spoiled her rotten, and in turn, she loved him unconditionally until he realized that it wasn’t her love that he wanted. It was someone else’s.

You felt your chest tighten as you stepped forward, closer to him. And then, slowly, he turned around, his gaze landing on you, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he was seeing you for the first time. He was just as handsome as you'd imagined, his sharp features bathed in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. His expression, however, was unreadable—his usual aloofness on full display. He had on a simple black jacket, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms.

He was standing there, just as he had been in the manhwa—distant, untouchable, and perfect. The kind of person who seemed to have everything. Everything except the one thing that would make him whole. His lips curved into a faint smirk, the usual aloofness settling over him like a second skin. Yoongi. So damn confident. So certain of himself. Yet there was something flickering beneath that exterior, something you couldn't place.

He took a step toward you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, too real. The space between you both seemed like an eternity, but somehow you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

He raised his brows when you remained motionless – so dissimilar to how the second female lead threw herself in his arms in the first chapter. “What?” he said, his voice a quiet challenge. “Didn’t you miss me?”

His words hit you like a cold wave. Didn’t you miss me?

The phrase was so familiar, but it made you flinch. It was the same thing he had said to her. The second female lead. Her. The woman you had now become. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze leaving you paralyzed. How were you supposed to feel? What was the right answer?

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he took another step closer, his presence commanding the space between you both. He wasn’t giving up.

“Aigoo,” he muttered, as though your silence had amused him. “My princess is mad at me?” He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squishing them gently, his thumb brushing across your skin in a familiar, playful gesture. “I promise I won’t be away for that long again, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. My princess. Mad at me? It was just like the manhwa. Just like how the second female lead had fallen for him—how she’d craved his affection, how she had convinced herself that he was the only one who could make her whole.

How could she not fall for him? How could she not love him when he was this—this?

See, who wouldn’t fall for that? You understood the second female lead for falling in love with him, or why she did all those terrible things when he suddenly withdrew all his affections from her. But maybe…you could change the ending. Maybe you could find a happy ending of your own away from him. You could choose differently. You could walk away. You could find your own path, away from him, away from this tragic loop. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for you to have a happy ending. Not the one written in the manhwa, but one you could choose. One where you didn’t lose yourself in the love of a man who could never return it.

What if you and him could all have your separate happy endings?

Full teaser in KoFi

[redroses07]

The Umbrella Academy Season 4 Fix It Fic // Five Hargreeves x Reader Edition

WC: 3.1k

CW: Canon accurate violence, swearing, kissing, use of Y/N, Y/N is a bad ass, domestic fluff, angsty af.

Summary: A Five x Fem!Reader rewrite for the end of season four because I absolutely hated the ending. Five and Lila are not a thing in this fic, because that made me literally gag.

A/N: Hey luvs! I worked my ass off writing this fic because I needed to have a better ending for season four. In my mind this fic is canon. I hope y'all like it because I truly love how it turned out! Have an amazing day and enjoy! - Claire ♡

Five sat on the empty train, riding round in aimless circles. He had no intention of ever stopping. Perhaps he would die here, if death was even possible in this endless void. There was no reason for him to continue, they were out of options.

All he wanted to do was save his family, save you, but he couldn't even do that. At least this way he could escape having to witness the end of their lives.

He couldn't help but feel as if this was all his fault, if only he had listened to Reginald when he told him never to time travel. So much pain, so many lost lives, it never would have happened.

Five looked out the window, he didn't know what exactly for. Everything looked the same. Round and Round again, each identical station feels more hopeless than the last.

After an immeasurable amount of time, days? years? who knows. Something caught Five's eye.

He jumped up from his seat, following the dark figure out into the station.

Was that? No.

"Hey, wait!" Five shouted, chasing him down a staircase.

He rounded a corner, seeing a dimly lit cafe filled with all too familiar faces. The place was filled with several alternate versions of Five himself. It was an odd feeling for him to see himself this way.

Nonetheless, he took a seat across from the Five he had followed.

No more than ten seconds later, another Five served up two pastrami sandwiches. Five number two began to complain about the amount of sauerkraut on his sandwich, staring intently at the meal.

"What is this place?" Five asked, reaching for the cup of hot coffee next to him.

"It's a gas station. What the hell does it look like? It's a Deli." He could see that the alternate Five share his love of sarcasm.

He went on to explain how this was a place where all of the Five's from alternate timelines end up while trying to fix the "broken timeline" issue.

"Okay, so what shattered the original timeline?" Five asked.

"Not what. Who? I'll give you three guesses." Alternate Five held up three fingers.

"We did!" Another Five yelled.

Five wasn't surprised, everything always seemed to be caused by him.

"By we, do you mean my siblings?" Five asked.

"Yep, the morons."

Five rolled his eyes.

"When we come into existence, the timeline is shattered, and then we're stuck trying to save the world. How many times was it again?"

"145,412."

The number seemed almost impossible to fathom, but the more alternate realities, the more opportunity for the world to end. Alternate Five pointed at the wall, which was filled with every possible way the world had ended. Viktor's attempt at blowing up the moon was front and center. Seeing it gave Five an unpleasant sense of nostalgia.

Five came to realize that the commission was created by an alternate Five in an attempt to fix the timeline, but it was never successful since the Hargreeves siblings were the root of the problem.

"I have to get back." Five turned, rushing out the door. He heard the alternate versions of himself begin to speak, but his overwhelming thoughts drowned it out.

Five ran as fast as he could, getting back on the train and returning to his rightful place. With his family.

As Five entered the abandoned shell of his former home, the room's occupants turned to look at him.

The first person he noticed was you. You watched him with sad eyes, eyes he thought he would never have to gaze into again. Yet here he was, and undeniably, he had a plan.

You watched Five scan the room. Dark hair hung in front of his eyes, his chest heaved from running, or perhaps from anxiety.

"I didn't think you'd be back." You purse your lips, giving him a sour look. '

Facing your bitterness was the hardest part of all this for Five. Of course you had every right to feel that way, he had just up and left you. Although, in his mind that was better than having to watch you die.

"Yeah, neither did I." Five muttered.

Everyone looked at him, obviously awaiting an explanation.

"We caused this." Five began.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alison sighed.

You stared at Five intently, wondering what had changed since he decided to ditch you and everyone else.

"The marigold that infected our mothers bringing forth our births had a side effect, it fractured the timeline, bringing forth the end of the world."

Five looked from person to person, attempting to read everyone's emotions. They were unreadable.

"Extracting the marigold from our bodies is the only way to stop the cleanse, and in short, fix the timeline."

Silence settled over the room. You weren't born with marigold as the Hargreeves were, but due to Ben's antics, this now concerns you too.

"Okay, but how exactly do we do that?" Diego asked.

Five looked over to Viktor.

"Viktor, you can use your powers to extract the Marigold from our bodies. Unfortunately Ben and Jennifer are too far gone to be saved, but their sacrifice will have been for the greater good."

Viktor let out an elongated sigh, and with little to no hesitation, he agreed.

"Okay, let's get moving before it's too late." Viktor said, speeding out of the room.

You followed closely behind, trying your hardest to avoid Five's gaze.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off, this was not the time to be talking about all the mistakes he had made. Even if those mistakes led to the answer for all your troubles, they were still mistakes.

"We can talk about this later, if there is one."

Five sighed and watched you exit the room, not even bothering to look his way. He had fucked up big time.

You watched Viktor head towards the monster that was Ben and Jennifer. The creature growled, as it hurdled towards your group.

You turned back as you felt someone grab your arm, Five was standing behind you. You saw something in him that you had only seen a few times before, fear.

"Please. If we don't make it through this I want to make sure we're okay." Five begged for your forgiveness.

In any other circumstance you would not have given in this easily, but the dire situation has just begun to settle in. This could be it.

Neither of you wanted to leave this world with so many words unsaid.

Your gaze softened, and you followed Five away from the other Hargreeve's.

"I know what I did was wrong. With every bone in my body I feel that it was wrong."

He spoke loudly enough to drown out the oncoming chaos, but softly enough to omit any sort of aggression.

Five reached for your hands, and you reluctantly let him take them.

Five paused for a moment, trying to find the words that would mean the most, considering he was dealing with limited time.

"My worst fear is to see you suffer, and at the time, running away seemed like my only escape. I feel like I've already caused so much hardship in your life, and the thought of any more terrified me." His eyes stayed glued to you.

Five was the whole reason you had joined The Commission to begin with. He helped you to believe in a cause that you otherwise wouldn't have, and the two of you hadn't left each other's side since.

You didn't regret it per say, but you couldn't deny that you often wished for a different life. You would never blame any of your circumstances on Five though, and you hated how he always chose to blame himself.

"Nothing that has happened to me, or to anyone, is your fault. I think all of us share some responsibility, but blaming yourself is just wrong." You squeezed Five's clammy hands.

Five let out a sigh of relief as he was able to recognize forgiveness in your eyes.

"I love you." He said, fighting the tears that began to form in the corners of his eyes. The phrase was reserved only for you, as it is a concept that has always been hard for five.

Growing up with Reginald as a father, and a family that could win an Olympic gold medal in dysfunctionality, Five didn't exactly have a positive outlook on love.

"I love you too. We've been through worse, we'll get through this too."

Five pulled you into a tight hug, breathing you in as if it was the last chance he would ever get to hold you. The two of you were versed in the end of the world, this was not the first final hug you had shared. Five placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, and he didn't miss the small cry that escaped your lips.

You rarely cried, and when you did it was always around Five. He was the only person you felt comfortable enough with to show vulnerability. It was the perfect moment, and the past few days had worn down your patience. You reluctantly let a few tears slip loose.

"Get your asses over here love birds, Ben is here." Diego called from the other side of the room.

You and Five exchanged a look before running over to the center of the room and rejoining your family.

Ben growled ferociously, the red goo that dripped from his body falling around the room.

"Just so you guys know, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. So if we all die, I apologize in advance." Viktor said, clenching his fists on either side.

His newly improved orange power began to swirl around his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly focusing on the task at hand.

You reached for Five's hand, interlocking your fingers with his. If these were to be your last moments, you wanted to make sure he was with you.

Five gripped your hand with everything he had in him, every bit of strength was to remind you of his presence.

With each moment that passed, the colorful plume of Viktor's powers grew, encasing not only Ben and Jennifer, but all of you.

You and Five watched as the all too familiar gold marigold specks began to float through the air. It felt odd, it didn't hurt, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant feeling. It was like your whole body was being poked by a prickly cactus.

The air turned cold, and all other sounds were overcome by the rumbling of Viktor's power.

An unbearable wave of exhaustion washed over you, and it became hard for you to keep your eyes open.

You looked over at Five, making eye contact with him one last time. He gave you his signature smirk, funny how in spite of everything he could still be himself.

The last thing you saw was Ben falling to the floor, the marigold protruding from him filling the whole room with a deep yellow glow.

And just like that, the world turned black.

· · ─────── ·☂· ─────── · ☂ · ─────── ·☂· ─────── · ·

Five opened his eyes, the bright light of day overwhelming his vision. The ground beneath him was soft, the tall grass tickling his fingertips.

Five sat up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the sun. He looked over next to him, and there you were. Just as you had always been, right by his side. Your chest rose slowly, a thankful sign that you were still alive.

Five looked beyond you, to see his siblings all scattered around the lawn. They were all exactly where they had been before the blackout. The empty patch of grass, of course, was where the Hargreeve's mansion used to stand.

Without the existence of their powers, The Umbrella Academy was never formed. It was strange, to know that what Five remembered, no one else did. It was like waking up from a strange dream.

However, one thing was missing, Ben. And of course Jennifer. Five wasn't surprised that they hadn't made it, considering how their bodies were overtaken.

Five watched as his siblings slowly began to rise from their temporary comas, their eyes heavy and glazed over.

Five nudged you slightly. Unable to wait for you to wake, wanting to share this beautiful moment with you.

You opened your eyes and felt as if you had awoken from a decades long slumber. The first thing you saw was Five next to you, a genuine smile on his face. That was something you had missed.

"Are we in heaven?" Klaus mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Well if this was heaven, I'd be awfully disappointed." Lila replied.

You laughed to yourself, and stood up on wobbly legs.

You all had done it.

"Viktor. I think you might have just saved the world." Luther announced.

Viktor smiled and looked down, maybe eventually he'd let himself take the credit.

You began to take in your surroundings. The sound of traffic in the distance, the wind stinging your cheek, the smell of spring air. It was all so normal.

"Guys, where's Ben?" Klaus asked, and your heart dropped.

"Klaus...we all knew he probably wouldn't make it.." Alison said sadly.

Just then, something caught your eye. Something yellow that stuck out in the patch of green.

"Guys, look!" You pointed at the unique plant.

"Marigolds." Five said softly, and you felt his hand close around yours.

Two beautiful yellow flowers sprouted from the earth, a reminder of what was sacrificed. A reminder of what had to happen for all of this to exist, and a symbol of hope.

~~ Two Years Later ~~

You awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside your window, a song that was often your wake-up call. You rolled over to see Five sleeping peacefully next to you. You weren't surprised. He always slept late, after all, he was an old man at heart.

It had been two years of living freely in the new timeline. You and Five now share an apartment next to Lila and Diego and their three kids.

Life wasn't without its challenges, but compared to everything else the two of you had been through this was paradise.

Viktor had started his own Cafe, a small shop on a street corner that had quickly become a local favorite.

Alison had landed a big movie role not long after everything returned to normal. Ever since it hit the big screen, she had no problem with job offers. She didn't even miss her power of persuasion.

Klaus still lives with Alison. He doesn't really do anything specific, he often refers to himself as 'self-employed'. But he was happy, and that was all that really mattered.

Luther had somehow reconnected with Sloane, who had re-appeared after the timeline was fixed. Of course she didn't remember anything, but it must've been fate because they got to fall in love all over again.

Diego decided to put his skills acquired from his power to use and now taught axe throwing classes.

Lila had decided to help people who had ended up in a mental hospital, similar to how she had. She was working on getting her degree in psychology.

As for you and Five. Five kept his CIA job, and you decided to join him in his career. As the two of you had always done everything together, why not this too?

You felt Five stir next to you, letting out a series of groans. He slowly opened his eyes, a smile spreading across his face the moment he saw you.

"Good morning, beautiful." His morning voice is thick and deep.

"I love you." You whispered, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes.

Five leaned up to kiss you but you counteracted it by jumping out of bed. You pulled the blanket off of him and he whined in protest.

"Time to get up, Gramps, Lila wants us to drive the kids to school today."

Five rolled his eyes at the nickname. You snickered and kissed him on the cheek before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

After the two of you grabbed breakfast, you met Lila outside, Grace and the twins behind her.

"Thank you again for helping us out with this, I don't know how I'd ever get to work on time without you." Lila gave you a quick hug.

"Of course, whatever you need." You ushered her away, signaling that you could take it from here.

You were used to driving the kids places, and they always said you were their favorite aunt. Five however, could not surpass Klaus for favorite uncle.

"Alright guys, who's ready for school?" You said as you jumped in the driver's seat.

There was a chorus of enthusiastic cheers from the back, and you laughed.

"I was never that excited about school when I was your age." The kids had no idea how long ago that actually was for you.

You made sure to put on some kid friendly music, anything but Baby Shark. You dropped the kids off and made sure they all got inside safely.

"Anything else on the schedule for today?" Five asked you.

"Nope, we're both off today so I think the rest of our day is free."

"Great, we should do absolutely nothing." Five's eyes lit up with excitement.

You nodded in agreement and drove towards your home.

Once you arrived, the both of you threw on pajamas and cuddled up in bed. Five flung his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder, simultaneously letting out a big sigh.

"I love you." He mumbled in your ear.

Even after all these years he still made you blush every time he said those three little words.

"I love you more." You pressed a kiss to Five's nose and he scrunched it up before responding with a chaste kiss to your lips.

After breaking apart you and Five settled into each other's arms, excited to spend a calm day together.

He reached for the remote and flicked on the TV. The small kiss he placed on your forehead didn't go unnoticed.

As Five settled into this new life, he found it hard not to expect a new life altering crisis to pop up at any moment. But it never did.

As the day dragged on, nothing out of the ordinary happened; and you could almost say that it was an ordinary day.

Taglist: @xreader-writing @dorkyfangirl24 @dinorawrss @anne-oop @ladynaviamin @i-amtrash @patchesofdreams @sarbear33 @marinalor

[milaswriting]

Update. — 3rd October 2024

Well, helloo. If you're following me and reading this then...you must really hate me for my lack of activity on this blog. I apologise for that. Doing a masters degree really kicks my ass, and leaves me with no time to write. But Golden has never been dead or abandoned, it's very much always at the forefront of my mind.

And, for that pure reason, I know it's a story I haven't been 1,000% happy with so the story is going through some major changes. Probably, the first is that it's being rewritten. A (somewhat) new plot written with whole new software—we're making the move to Twine.

My reasoning; I've spent over a year learning the coding which makes me want to rip my hair out. I get to have a lot more ownership over my work, the customisation options are stellar, and you guys will get to read it for free.

The reasons for rewriting has been because I want to fix the cringey writing from when the story's first demo was released. It's mostly from the earlier chapters, but then the thought of plot changes came to me and I wanted to implement those. Realistically, the majority of what's being rewritten is what I had planned for book two—so I'm just bringing that forward. I'll update the synopsis closer to the release of this rewrite.

The changes (which can be subject to change): I'm getting rid of the university idea (though you can still choose careers that are related to those degrees from the options that'll be given) (e.g., if you liked the nursing student option, then your MC can work as a nurse). I'm thinking that the MC will already know about the supernatural world to some extent—there'll still be a lot of suspense and mystery and things to unravel, that was always going to remain. And, in this rewrite, my thought is that the MC and the gang will be working at a multi-agency organisation — called The Everbrook — where the aim is to bridge the gap between humans and supernaturals. To make the world run smoothly, so to speak.

The ROs are the exact same! No changes to that—the only change is that them and the mc will somewhat know of each other already. The genre is the same. MC is still as they are, a Lehsian socialite with a pretty (yet peculiar) birthmark. The parents will have much, much less of a role, but they'll still be mentioned here and there.

This seems like a load of word vomit, but I feel like these changes will improve the story. I'm hoping that it'll make MC less of a spare part in the story, allowing them to have more autonomy in the supernatural universe, especially with their enhanced skillset.

I've done the customisation in terms of the UI layout for Twine already, and it should be mobile friendly too. With that done, I've started writing and I'm a few thousand words in. A lot of what I've written in the ChoiceScript version can still be used, but also getting back into writing a story from scratch is something I'm looking forward to.

I feel like this is a bittersweet thing because yay to a new and better story, but also the time it's going to take to get it out. I'll debate whether to release the whole ten chapters, or do a few chapters at a time, like splitting it up into chunks (releasing three chapters now, and three chapters later on).

Another reason as to why I've taken so long to mention this, other than learning code and the rewrite, is just the whole process of this being a little nerve-wracking. The whole thought of a rewrite of something I've put so much effort into is scary, but it'll be worth it.

I'll accept any questions you've got, and I'll create an FAQ regarding all of this too. But, most importantly, you're in the loop of how this is progressing. I really appreciate everyone's kind words about this story: loving the ros, re-reading it, still sticking by my writing—it means a lot. So, thank you and I hope the future of this story is what you want and more.

PLANS.

Finish introductory scenes.

Finish chapter one.

WORD COUNT.

2.2k (rewrite)

[readychilledwine]

Hellos. Could do something where the reader is azriel mate and they are kidnapped. She sacrifices her wings to save his life. And mention how az is angry that it happened and whatever u think will look good. Thank you.

👀👀👀👀 I, uh, may have a thing for shattering my own heart only to pick up the pieces. So yes. Yes, I can. Hopefully, you enjoy it, and I did it justice, dearest!

Beauty in Pain

Azriel x Illyrian reader

Warnings - not over descriptive mentions of torture and dismemberment, Azriel goes feral, depression, the usual unedited by an outside source.

Word count -2030

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

You were better trained than this. 

That reminder was echoing inside your mind like a war drum, beating senselessly into your thoughts as you were dragged down the barely lit pathway under the temple. You knew no one was coming. Faebane had blocked the mating bond, blocked your ability to call Rhys or Feyre. You'd be lucky if they found you, alive or dead.

It had started a routine mission. Head to the war camps, ask the leader for reports, speak with the females, head home to your mate.

Your mate. The one you prayed had felt the bond grow cold despite the many promises to never shut each other out. The one who'd slaughter every single male involved in this when he found out where you were, who had you, and what they planned to do or will have done.

You didn't fight as they laid you face down on the concrete block in the room. They had planned this, planned how long to keep you on a specific dose of faebane, no food, and no water. Planned the beatings used to weaken you on a cycle. You felt it and flinched as two sets of hands roughly grabbed your left wing. 

You were prepared to be clipped as a form of torture for the information they wanted. You knew it was coming. But as blinding pain left you with no choice but to scream out for your mate, for your brother, for Rhysand, you knew the plan was worse than you had imagined.

But you did not yield. You bared the pain, allowing it to try and break you until the world grew cold and dark.

—-----------

Azriel was pacing Rhysand's office. He had not slept in the 7 long days you had been overdue for, at the very least, a check in, after the missive Rhys and Cassian had received.

They have not started training the females. I will be home or rewrite soon. I promise. The three Illyrian males had trusted you to handle it. They had trusted you would be safe, unharmed, respected. 

And despite every alarm ringing in his heart, mind, and soul, Azriel had not gone to you right away. 

Rhysand's eyes glazed over, his face dropping slowly as he received whatever message he was receiving. He came back to them slowly, moving without speaking as he started grabbing weapons and tossing them to Azriel and Cassian. 

The High Lord's voice was dealthy calm as he finally spoke. "A set of wings, freshly removed, was just found outside of my mother's cabin. There's no signs of (y/n) anywhere in any of the camps the twins searched. The only thing reported to them was in the northernmost camp."

Rhysand breathed deeply. "A female was carried through the camp, unconscious with her head and body covered. That same night the camp heard screams from midnight until early into the morning."

Cassian's breath caught in his throat before he immediately grabbed Rhysand's arm. "Take me there, now." 

"How long ago," Azriel's voice had gone cold and detached. "How long ago did that happen? How long has she been sitting Mother knows where with untreated wounds or dead?"

Rhysand refused to look at Azriel, reaching to grab his brother's hand, before finally whispering. "4 days."

—------------

The rescue had turned into a bloodbath. There was zero question as a panicked shadows all but dragged the three of them to an abandoned temple.

It reeked of her blood, her sweat, her tears. 

It held an almost haunting aura as if the terror and pain of her screams had scarred the ancient stone, marking it to forever echo her agony to anyone walking inside.

Azriel didn't want to ask questions. He didn't want prisoners. He wanted payment in blood. 

He had cut through every single male that appeared in their path before Rhysand and Cassian even had a chance to interfere on his way to the dungeons his shadows were pleading with him to get to quickly. 

And now one last male stood between him and the cell she laid unconscious in. "Move or be moved," Rhysand told him coolly. "I would not push your luck." 

The male stared at a blood soaked Azriel. His shadows were curling over his shoulders like snakes waiting to strike. His wings flared wide in dominance and anger. His 7 siphons glowing. 

The young male moved, allowing Rhysand to grab him and winnow him away to the Prison before Azriel could beat him to death as well. Cassian moved quickly to the door, opening it with the key they had found, before entering the small cell containing his sister.

The anguished sob that left Cassian was the only confirmation Azriel needed. "Y/n," he heard Cassian tapping your body. "Come on, sis. Wake up."

Dying. Azriel's shadows confirmed. Infections. We cannot safely winnow her. Rhys is bringing a healing team. Need more space. 

Azriel moved into the cell, holding the scream in his throat as he was overwhelmed with the urge to run to you. Cassian had you cradled into his chest, rocking you back and forth before looking up at Azriel, eyes rimmed with tears. "We need to get her somewhere that Madja can use to work on her. Rhys is bringing her and a team of healers here." Azriel held his arms out, a silent demand in the movement. 

Cassian only nodded. Standing and carefully transferring your beaten and bleeding body into Azriel's arms, following him out of the room.

—---------------

3 long weeks of silence had passed in the House of Wind. 

No one had gone to Azriel's room.

No one had spoken to him without the male lashing out.

There was nothing they could do to comfort him but allow him to be with you.

When you first got home, while you were lying unconscious with Madja, Helion, and Lucien looking after you, Rhys had managed to get out of the male Azriel allowed to live one very simple thing. 

You let them torture you, let them completely take your wings, to force you to look into death's eyes, and you had allowed them to do it to protect Azriel. You had refused to give them his schedule to visit the camps. You refused to tell them when he'd be there alone again. You refused to tell them which pathway he flew in using or where he'd shadow-walk himself to first.

You had lost your wings to protect him. Your husband, your mate.

Azriel had lost it then, guilt eating away at him, and began beating the male to death with his bare fists as Cassian and Rhysand just watched. They knew what was echoing in his mind. She will live, Madja had said, but she will never be the same. Her wings can't be reattached or saved, no one has the ability to give her back what was taken.

You hadn't spoken to Azriel, Rhys, or Cassian when you finally woke up. You only sat in your window, staring at the sky. 

The one you'd never feel going through your hair again. The one you'd never touch again. The one you'd never taste again.

It was funny, you thought to yourself, to have been protected and trained to ensure this never happened, only for the moment it did to come 500 long years later. 

It had been a full week later when Azriel cornered you in the shower and just held your naked body for you two to speak. Another week passed before you allowed him to kiss you and hold you without him having to force the contact. You had yet to show interest in leaving the bedroom the two of you shared. 

You felt familiar scarred hands on your bare shoulders, wrapping around to your collarbones before running up the front of your neck and tilting your head back. "Dinner alone tonight or dinner with our family?" His voice was scratched from the crying you two had been doing. His eyes were swollen and red. "I already know the answer, I just need to verbally hear it."

"I wish to be alone." He nodded. Taking the cue and leaving you to your window as he sat back on the couch, head falling into his hands, as he began to cry again.

You watched his shoulders shaking, listened to his almost silenced sniffling. You knew things had forever changed in your relationship. 

There would be no more missions for you.

No more trips with Amren away from him.

No more walking Velaris alone.

There would be no more date nights spent flying.

No more jumping from high places together, allowing yourselves to fall until the last possible second, only to spread those precious wings.

There'd be no more wing play late into the early mornings, edging each other with small touches in certain places until you were both begging for relief.

But you knew deep down, more than anything, there would be a new Azriel. One that would have one more thing to hold against himself. One that would have one more moment of his life to look back on and use as an argument for how he wasn't enough.

And you couldn't have that. You would not stand for it.

You couldn't have the broken male you had spent time healing with, growing with, and struggling with. You could not have the one who blamed himself for every little thing again.

You stood on slightly unstable feet, and walked to your closet, a shadow trailing you. Rhys had immediately replaced your clothing, ensuring you would not have to go through ordering it yourself, and had the twins place the new materials into your closet. A simple black dress was what you picked. It would stop right above your knees, hug your torso beautifully. You closed the closet door, calling for Rhys silently in your mind and jumping as his hands appeared behind you. "I need help." You whispered. 

His eyes searched yours before nodding and helping you change into the dress. Allowing you to use him to balance. A kiss was placed on the back of your head as he laced it up. Gentle, but full of emotion. And he winnowed away. 

You left the closet, walking to Azriel on the couch slowly with a pair of his trousers and a black button-up shirt in hand. "I changed my mind. I'm craving that cake, the almond one with the vanilla frosting."

Azriel scoffed lightly. "I am not leaving you to go get cake. I will ask Rhysand-"

"I need you to fly me there, Az. I want to go get the cake, eat it at the Cafe with coffee, and then I want you to take me for a walk on the Sindra. And maybe go to that book store. The used book one."

He was silent before looking at you. His hazel eyes were full of question. "Y/n-"

"If my mate will not take me, I will ask my brother. I want cake, and I want my husband to take me to get it."

"I don't think you understand how heartbreaking not being able to truly fly is going to be, my heart."

You only repeated yourself, voice smaller this time. "If my mate will not take me, I will ask my brother. I want cake." You paused, eyes welling with tears. "I deserve cake and coffee. If I want cake and coffee for dinner, I expect my mate, the male who married me and bound himself to me, to take me."

Azriel nodded. Grabbing the clothing from you and he changed in silence. He stood on the balcony waiting as you took calming breaths and walked outside for the first time in many weeks.

"I am not responsible for the setback in your mental health after this." 

"No, but you are monetarily responsible for my cake and purchases. Let's go." He took you in his arms, holding you close to his chest and took off hard. 

And in that moment, you both knew something new had begun. You were laughing as he concentrated way more than usual to fly. You were smiling at how this allowed you to feel his body heat, to hear his heartbeat, to touch his face. 

You were laughing at how he began genuinely laughing at you. Not understanding where the sudden joy filling the bond and over flowing it like a faucet set to run for too long came from.

It wasn't until he paused in the sky, hovering so he could look down at your smiling face did you both realize something.

Losing your wings was just the beginning. 

[dixons-sunshine]

Good Boy | Were!Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Finally being cleared to go out on runs again, Daryl took you with him to go explore an abandoned warehouse. There, the two of you stumbled across something that had you saying werewolf puns left and right, much to Daryl’s chagrin.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, no arc in particular.

Warnings: Swearing, slight insinuation towards sexual themes near the end.

Word count: 2.2k.

A/N: Okay, so my original intention for week one of @lazyneonrabbitt’s Halloween challenge was to introduce my OC I made specifically for were!Daryl, but I completely scrapped the idea I had and it’s gonna take me a while to rewrite it. In the mean time, here’s this to get my foot in the door with writing for this popular AU. I hope y’all like this!

“Woah, girl. Hold yer horses. We dun’ know what could be waitin’ for us in there.” Despite his words, Daryl could not help the small chuckle that reverberated in his chest at your clear-as-day giddiness. You had not over exaggerated your need to get out of the community. Two weeks of mandatory bed rest due to your sprained ankle and you were antsy and rearing to go, to do something other than be confined to the walls of your home.

You laughed lightly at the archer’s concern, but complied with his request nonetheless. You slowed your pace and allowed for him to catch up to you, although you knew that he could easily outrun you if he truly wanted to. “Sorry,” you apologized halfheartedly.

Truth be told, you did not completely mean your apology. If there truly were any dangers lurking beyond the doors of the warehouse the two of you were about to enter, Daryl’s keen, heightened senses would have instantly alerted him and he would not have been as lighthearted and lenient as he had been up until that point. Sometimes you truly cherished the fact that you had a werewolf as a boyfriend—well, partner. Daryl was not particularly fond of the ‘b’ word.

With a shake of his head, Daryl chuckled at you. “S’alright. Jus’ stick real close to me, yeah? Dun’ want nothin’ happenin’ to ya. I dun’ trust myself enough to say for sure that there ain’t nothin’ behind this door without makin’ sure first.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. You remained silent whilst he banged on the metal of the door, a routine you knew all too well at that point. After about two minutes of silence, and no walkers came to inspect the noise Daryl had caused, you stepped forward and lightly nudged his shoulder, a small smile on your face. “You should really learn to trust yourself more, Dar. When was the last time your senses lied to you?”

Daryl opened his mouth to protest, but he realized that what you said rung true. When he picked up on something, he was always right. His supernaturally heightened senses had rarely failed him back before the world ended, and it had not failed him once since the dead had started to rise. However, he was a stubborn man, so he refused to accept the truth that lingered in your words.

“Jus’ humour me sometimes, alright? I jus’ wanna make sure ya stay safe, Sweetheart,” he replied, his tone of voice sincere and filled with love.

Your heart practically melted at his soft admission. You stepped forward and gently took his face into your hands, making him look at you. “You’re too sweet for your own good sometimes, Dar,” you told him softly, giggling lightly as you noticed the crimson colour that had begun to spread across his cheeks. “I’m not gonna say I can take care of myself because I know that’s not going to change how protective you are, but…”

Daryl’s lips twitched up into a small smile as he saw the mischief that sparkled in your eyes. He knew exactly why you had not finished that sentence. If you had, you would have contradicted what you had just told him. “But ya can take care’a yerself,” he finished for you with a light chuckle, his pointed canines on full display.

You smiled at him. You gently patted his cheek before taking a step back, withdrawing your hunting knife—a gift from Daryl—and holding it at the ready. “Damn straight,” you told him confidently, your heart skipping a beat at the lighthearted laugh you managed to coax from Daryl at your confident demeanour. “Now come on. Let’s see what we can find.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daryl replied, his cerulean eyes sparkling as he looked at you. He adjusted his grip on his crossbow, ensuring that the weapon could be fired at a moment’s notice, before finally opening the door to the warehouse.

The two of you stepped into the abandoned building, your prior camaraderie fading as the seriousness of the situation took root inside your minds instead. You could hear the faint drip of water droplets descending to the floor somewhere within the building, and the chill of the wind outside blew through the broken windows, making the warehouse colder than it needed to be. However, as you continued to explore the area, you noted that there truly were no walkers around, and no other dangers had made themselves known yet, so you were certain that the building was secure. Still, even with that knowledge, you kept your guard up, your eyes searching the place nonetheless.

After about ten minutes of silence, where you and Daryl had just been busy exploring and ensuring that the warehouse truly was safe, the archer spoke up. “Place seems secure.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. However, you could not help the satisfied smirk that painted your features. “Would you look at that? I was right. Your senses didn’t fail you.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ rub it i—”

Before Daryl could finish his sentence, a loud bang could be heard. Whipping around with his crossbow raised, he could see that the source of the deafening noise had been caused because a few metal pipes had fallen from their place against the wall. However, what had caused that to happen in the first place, he did not know. All he did know was that he smelled something he had not smelled outside of the community in a long time. He had to be wrong, though. There was no way he could be right about that.

With his finger raised to his lips, a silent insinuation for you to be quiet, he trudged forward to investigate. You followed closely behind him, your knife raised in case you would need it. However, you soon realized that what had happened was not caused by an enemy. In fact, it had been caused by a poor, unsuspecting creature.

You heard it before you saw it. The pained whimpers reached your ears before you laid eyes on the small, injured creature, making you grasp Daryl’s wrist in your hand to stop him before his finger curled around the trigger of his beloved crossbow. “Stop!” you exclaimed hurriedly, instantly regretting your loud tone of voice when Daryl flinched at it. You had momentarily forgotten about his heightened hearing. “Sorry,” you apologized sincerely, sheathing your knife into its holster. “Just... look.”

You moved forward and crouched down in front of the metal pipes, and slowly began picking them up and moving them aside. Slowly but surely, you began to see brown fur, closely followed by a white paw, and then another. Soon, you could see a pair of the cutest dark brown eyes staring up at you, and you could not help the gasp of surprise that left you.

“Hi, baby,” you cooed to it and extended your hand towards it—a small, brown dachshund dog.

The dog slowly began wagging its tail, lifting its head slightly to nudge its nose against your hand, getting familiar with your scent. When it noticed you were not a threat, it began to crawl its body towards you, but stopped and let out a whimper at the exertion.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you picked it up. With a quick look down, you noted that the dog was a boy. “It’s okay, boy. I got you. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m gonna take really good care of you, okay?” The dog simply looked up at you with his adorable brown eyes, and it made you smile. “You’re just too precious, sweetheart.”

Daryl smiled softly at the sight in front of him. He lowered his crossbow and took a step forward, but stopped when the dog looked at him and began barking. The archer rolled his eyes at that. He was not surprised. That was generally the reaction he always got whenever he encountered a new dog. Thankfully, he knew how to take care of it.

Daryl walked up next to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. He looked down at the dog and let out a low growl, his eyes momentarily flashing an orange colour, before fading back into its usual blue. The dog whined and lowered his head, his barks quieting down. The archer slowly lifted his hand and extended it towards the dog, and when the dog made no protest, he slowly began scratching him behind his ears.

Your giggles soon reached Daryl’s ears. Looking at you, his eyebrows raised questioningly. “What’s so funny?” he inquired, his eyes darting over your face.

You shook your head. “Nothing. I just never took you for a dog person, Daryl.”

Daryl scoffed and took a step back, his eyes narrowed into a glare as he looked at you, but there was no real heat behind his eyes. “Ya think yer hilarious, don’tcha?”

“Oh, I know I’m hilarious,” you replied with a quiet giggle. “I’m just saying, though. Should I be scared that you’re gonna get into a tug-of-war battle with him once I find him some toys?”

Daryl glared at you, but he could not help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He decided not to comment on the fact that you had decided to keep the dog without even asking for his input, but he did not really mind. He would have said yes anyways. Anything to ensure your happiness. “Nice,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. Opting to change the topic, he continued. “C’mon, let’s go. Ain’t nothin’ here ‘cept dust and some metal. We should pro’ly head back.” He mainly said that because he knew that your mind would be occupied with the small dog instead of looking around the warehouse, so his safest bet was to get you home. He turned around and began making his way towards the exit.

Adjusting the small daschund in your arms, you jogged slightly to keep up with your partner’s long strides. You thanked your lucky stars that you and Daryl had opted to take a truck instead of his bike, because that made it so much easier to get the dog home with you. “Does this mean that he’s a part of your pack now?”

Rolling his eyes, he opened the door to the back of the truck and took the dog from you, placing him into the backseat. “He’s a dog, m’a werewolf. We’re not the same.”

You nodded at his words. “Okay,” you responded. When Daryl turned around, you smirked to yourself and reached down, picking up a stick. “Hey, Babe?” When Daryl turned around, you threw the stick to the side. You smiled at the way he perked up, his eyes following the stick, clearly wanting to chase it.

However, he refrained himself from doing so, and instead shut his eyes at the fact that he had been caught. “Yer on thin ice, woman,” he grumbled.

You laughed and stepped forward, gently cupping his cheek in your hand. His eyes opened and he stared at you, his gaze softening considerably. “There’s no need to be ashamed about your more dog-like tendencies, Dar. I find them endearing. Plus, I think it’s adorable when you glare at a squirrel or you have to refrain yourself from doing things like that.” For added emphasis, you gestured towards the stick you had thrown a few moments prior. “I think those things perfectly balance out your ‘scarier’, stronger qualities. I love everything about you. Everything about you makes my heart howl with joy.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, but he could not help the smile that spread across his face. “Thanks,” he mumbled, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hand slipping into his hair, scratching at his scalp right behind his ear, and he leaned into your touch. However, he soon realized what you had done, and he stepped back and sent you a playful glare, a small smile on his face. “Okay, yer a bitch for that one.”

You laughed and leaned in to give him a quick kiss, before pulling back. “I’m sorry. That one was just too good to pass up.” You stepped back and smiled at him. “Come on, let’s go. You did good today, and every good boy deserves a treat.”

Daryl deliberately ignored that last dog pun, instead focusing on the insinuation behind your words. Within seconds, thanks to his supernaturally enhanced speed, he was situated within the truck, looking at you through the open window expectantly. “Ya jus’ gon’ stand there and look pretty or are ya comin’?”

You giggled and made your way over to the passenger side, clambering in to the vehicle before shutting the door behind you. Daryl started the truck and pulled away from the warehouse, beginning the drive back to Alexandria. You glanced back and noticed that the dog you had found had curled up into the seat, his breathing steady as he slept, and you smiled at the sight. “Is that what our kids are gonna look like in the future?”

Daryl glanced at you, his heart swelling at the knowledge that you had thought of having kids with him. “Yeah, somethin’ like that. They come out human, though. They shift on their first birthday if they carry the lycanthropy gene.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I can’t wait until we have our own litter of puppies.”

“I walked head first into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Wendigo | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean's a dick but so is the reader

Word Count: 8817

A/N: Happy Saturday! Enjoy the next chapter!! Taglist/Requests are open!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You were curled up against the backseat of the Impala writing in your journal and humming along to Dean’s Foreigner cassette tape when Sam jerked awake in the front seat. You jerked up as well, concerned.

Dean shot his brother a worried look. “You okay?”

Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Bull. Nightmare?” you asked.

The younger brother just cleared his throat in response. 

“You wanna drive for a while?” Dean asked.

You and Sam gave him an incredulous look. 

“Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that,” he laughed.

“Just thought you might want to. Never mind.” He rolled his eyes and returned them to the road. 

“Look, man, you’re worried about me,” Sam sighed. “I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay.”

His brother just hummed in response.

“I’ll take you up on that driving offer, though,” you chimed in.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“And I told you I wasn’t listening.”

“Dick.”

Dean just scoffed in response. 

Sam’s unfolding of a map brought the conversation back on track. “All right, where are we?”

“Just outside of Grand Junction,” you answered. You leaned over his shoulder and pointed at the spot labeled “Grand Junction” and drew a trail with your finger over to a spot labeled with the coordinates Dean had found in John’s journal. 

Sam hesitated before speaking again. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon.”

Dean shook his head. “Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—”

“We gotta find Dad first,” Sam finished.

“Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence.”

“Wait, showing up again?” you asked. Even after poking around at Stanford, this was the first you’d heard of a previous encounter with the creature.

“I thought Sam would’ve told you,” Dean said.

“Told me what?”

Sam turned to face you. “You remember what I said about my mom dying? She died the same way Jess did.”

You nodded in solemn understanding. 

The car went quiet again; the silence only broken by the older brother. “Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do.”

Sam scanned the map again. “It's weird, man. These coordinates he left us. This Blackwater Ridge.”

“What about it?” you asked, putting your chin on Sam’s shoulder to look at the map.

“There's nothing there. It's just woods.” He put down the map, looking past your head at Dean. “Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?”

Dean just shrugged in response. 

The three of you found yourselves in a ranger’s station in Lost Creek National Forest just outside of Blackwater Ridge. You and Sam scanned a three-dimensional map of the forest atop a large table in the center of the room. 

“So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” The brunet tapped his finger against the ridge’s label on the map. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.”

However, his brother’s attention could not be pulled away from a picture on the wall. “Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear.”

You walked over to him, and he was right. The thing was massive. The man standing behind its corpse looked like a dwarf in comparison. 

“There’s about a dozen or so grizzlies in the area,” you added. 

You and the boys were startled by a ranger’s voice coming from behind you. “You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?”

“Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper,” Sam assured him, laughing awkwardly.

Dean grinned and raised a fist. “Recycle, man.”

‘I could hit him. Jackass.’

The ranger obviously did not believe him. “Bull.”

Your eyes flicked to Dean, who was unmoving. 

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?” the ranger continued.

“Yes. Yes, we are, Ranger— Wilkinson.” Dean faltered only to read the ranger’s name tag.

“Well I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

You shook your head. 

“You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We will.” Dean paused only for a moment. “Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?”

“That is putting it mildly.”

You laughed. ‘I’m sure we’d get along great.’

“Actually,” Dean stopped the ranger from leaving the room. “You know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.”

The ranger eyed Dean curiously, but still got him a copy of the permit. 

Dean laughed smugly as the three of you left the station, waving the paper around.

“What are you, five?” you asked him.

“Listen, sweetheart, I consider this a major success.” You quirked a brow at him, mildly annoyed he called you that stupid name again. “This eliminates a lot of the groundwork we normally have to do.”

“Fair point,” you shrugged. 

Sam broke the somewhat comfortable silence. “Are you cruising for a hookup or something?”

Considering the thought you’d just had, you were taken slightly aback. “What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” Sam was more talking pointedly at Dean and not you. You came to a stop on your respective sides of the Impala.

You couldn’t quite see Dean over the top of the car. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?”

You could practically feel the look Dean was giving Sam.

“What?” the brunet scoffed.

“Since when are you all shoot-first-ask-questions-later, anyway?”

“Since now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the inside of your lip. “Really?’ you muttered, getting down into the car. 

***

Sam walked a little further up the walkway to the Collins house than you and Dean did. 

“Forty-five minutes in that copy room for this?” you inspected Dean’s small, fake park ranger ID.

“Can’t rush art, sweetheart.”

“Now you’re just working it into every sentence because you know it aggravates me.”

"Yup,” Dean chuckled. 

You smirked lopsidedly and Dean knocked on Haley Collins’s front door. A quite beautiful, dark-haired girl opened it moments later. 

“You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and (Y/N), we're, ah, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley hesitated. “Lemme see some ID.”

Dean held up the ID you’d previously been inspecting to the screen door. The girl looked between the ID and Dean. 

“Come on in.”

“Thanks.” 

The door swung open, allowing Haley to catch a glimpse of the Impala. “That yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice car.” She began leading the three of you into the home.

Dean looked back at Sam, mouthing something excitedly to him that you couldn’t quite make out. You rolled your eyes. You decided then and there you would push your attraction to him to the side for the rest of the time you were working with the brothers. To you, he was just an asshole playboy. 

Sam’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?”

You took in the sight of the table set for dinner and a young boy who looked to be about thirteen already picking at his plate of food. 

Haley entered the room with a bowl and placed it onto the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception,” you suggested.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.”

‘Well, there goes that theory.’

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean threw in.

The teenage boy clanked his fork against his plate, sharply stating, “He wouldn't do that.”

You eyed the boy, getting a read on him.

“Our parents are gone,” Haley said. “It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

You nodded in understanding. As much as you were trying to dislike her, it wasn’t working all that well.

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked.

Haley pulled out her laptop to show Sam the folder of pictures and videos her brother had sent her. “That's Tommy.” You could hear the sadness in her voice.

She clicked through to the most recent video. 

A scruffy, presumably twenty-five year old man appeared onscreen. “Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.”

Something flickered past outside the young man’s tent. Your brows furrowed. 

“Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing,” Dean assured her.

“Then maybe I'll see you there,” she answered. “Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“I think I know how you feel.”

Your eyes flicked over to Dean, growing angry at what you assumed to be an attempt at seducing the girl.

‘She’s mourning the potential loss of her brother, and you’re gonna try and charm her? Asshole.’

The younger Winchester once again broke you out of your thoughts. “Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?”

“Sure.” Haley clicked away on her laptop again.

*** 

You and the boys wound up at a bar. The table was covered in newspapers, John’s journal, and beer bottles; some full and some half empty. 

“So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.” 

You gestured to John’s journal, which Sam slid over to you. You began flipping through it. 

“Any before that?” Dean asked. 

Sam pulled out a newspaper to show his brother. “Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.”

You leaned across the table, squinting at the headline. You felt Dean’s eyes flick to your breasts that had subsequently been pushed up in your wife beater as you leaned over. 

You glared at him. “Stay focused, Winchester.”

Dean rolled his eyes, apparently unable to find his way to a witty response. You turned your attention back to the headline that read, “ GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS! UP TO EIGHT HIKERS VANISH IN LOST CREEK AREA.”

Sam pulled out his laptop. “Before that, 1959 and 1936. Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork.”

“You have WiFi in here?” you questioned.

“Don’t need it. Just wanted to look at Haley’s video.” He pulled it up from a folder on his screen. 

“Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Can I see that?” You hopped off your stool to get between the two brothers. “Watch this.” You clicked through the three frames of the video containing the shadow you’d seen flash across the screen. “That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Dean reached across you to hit Sam’s shoulder. “Told you something weird was going on.”

Sam rolled his eyes, closing his laptop. “Yeah. I got one more thing.” He put a newspaper article between you and Dean. “In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

You skimmed the article briefly. “Is there a name?”

The only survivor of the attack in the article Sam showed you and Dean was a child at the time. He now lived a life of what appeared to be solitude. He drove a beat up truck that was parked haphazardly in his driveway and lived several miles out of the city. You took in the poor old man’s messy house as he led your trio into his living room.

“Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

Sam interrupted him. “Grizzly? That's what attacked them?”

Mr. Shaw lit a cigarette, took a deep puff, and nodded. 

“The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?” Dean’s tone was slightly pointed. “What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

The old man continued to take drags of his cigarette. He seemed almost scared to entertain any other explanation aside from a grizzly bear attack. 

Dean continued to pressure him. “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.”

Mr. Shaw shook his head. “I seriously doubt that. Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make.” He sat down in his recliner. “You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did.”

Sam sat down opposite the old man. “Mr. Shaw, what did you see?”

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like... no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?”

He nodded. 

“Got inside your tent?”

“It got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.”

You tried to keep your face from conveying your intrigue and tinge of fear.

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.” You could see Mr. Shaw becoming lost in his mind. 

“It killed them?” Sam continued.

“Dragged them off into the night.” The old man shook his head as if to shake away the memories. “Why it left me alive... been asking myself that ever since.” He took a brief pause before reaching to the collar of his wife beater. “Did leave me this, though.” He pulled it down to reveal three long, deep claw mark scars. Through morbid curiosity, you were tempted to run your fingers over the jagged edges of the scarring. You couldn’t imagine how painful and angry the marks must have been when the poor man first got them. 

“There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw. We’re sorry about your parents,” you told him, turning away. “Have a good night, sir.” 

Mr. Shaw seemed too caught up in his own head to respond with more than a wave, letting a cloud of smoke slither out of his mouth. 

*** Later that night, you and the boys had just booked a room in yet another crappy motel.

‘One of these days I’ll treat myself to a stay in a halfway decent hotel.’ 

Before the three of you would be turning in for the night, you were headed to Dean’s car to pack your bags for the early morning you were about to have. 

“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors.” Dean broke your train of thought. “If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it's probably something else, something corporeal,” Sam said.

“Corporeal? Look at you, smartass,” you laughed.

“Shut up. So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves…” Dean trailed off. “Could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it.” 

“True,” you started. “But how are you gonna know what to bring to kill it with if we have no idea what it is?”

“Just trust me on this one,” Dean replied. “There’s not much a gun won’t be able to take care of.” He let the door to the motel almost completely swing shut behind him; nearly hitting you in the face. 

You caught it just in time. “Right, right. Just like you ‘took care’ of Constance by shooting her.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Dean raised a brow at you, just barely turning over his shoulder to give you his response. He started busying himself in the weapons box in the back of his car.

“I mean, just barely. Nearly caught me in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “And what a shame that would’ve been.”

“Hey!” You shoved his shoulder with yours. 

He glared at you in response. 

Sam, who had been quiet the last few minutes, spoke up. “We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”

His brother was rummaging through the weapons box; haphazardly throwing guns into his duffel bag. “Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?”

You found a shotgun that was slightly smaller than the rest, giving it a once over before moving to put it in a duffel bag of your own. Before you could fully get it settled in the bag, Dean took it from you.

You went to protest, but Sam cut you off by saying, “Yeah,” as if it was obvious. 

Dean turned his attention away from you and your shotgun long enough for you to steal it back. 

“Her brother's missing, Sam,” he tried to reason. “She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.” 

Dean seemed to notice you had taken the gun back and glared at you. He picked up his own duffel, and you closed the weapons cavity. 

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam countered while you closed the trunk. “Now we gotta babysit too?”

You and Dean gave Sam a look.

“What?” he snapped.

You shook your head. 

“Nothing,” Dean replied. He threw the duffel bag at him and walked off. 

***

You yawned and pulled yourself into a tighter ball on the backseat of Dean’s Impala. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart, we’re here,” Dean told you.

“Fuck.” You grabbed yours and Dean’s duffel bags off the seat next to you and got out of the car to feel loose gravel grating against your boots. 

A man who looked to be in his late fifties was up ahead of you next to a Jeep with Haley and the teenager you recognized as Haley’s younger brother. You approached the other three from behind Sam and Dean.

“You guys got room for three more?” the older brother asked.

Haley crossed her arms. “Wait, you want to come with us?”

“Who are these guys?” The older man pointed at your group.

“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue.”

Sam headed past everyone, and you followed.

You assumed the middle-aged man was the guide Haley had talked about hiring the previous day. He was very skeptical of the three of you. “You're rangers?”

Dean’s confidence never wavered. “That's right.”

“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley was apparently skeptical, too. 

“Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts.”

‘That’s what he calls me.’ You couldn’t quite understand the pang that went through your chest when he used that nickname for her. You pushed the thought aside once again, reminding yourself that you weren’t special in Dean’s eyes. To you, he was becoming more of a playboy asshole with each passing moment. You hoped your attraction to his beautiful green eyes and sharp jawline would soon turn to disdain. 

Speaking of which, he appeared next to you as the guide spoke once more. “What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

You turned around, trying to explain Dean’s attitude away. “He knows that. He just has a funny way of showing it.” You hoped Dean didn’t miss the bite in your tone. And from the way you could feel his glare burning a hole through your skull, you were sure it wasn’t lost on him.

The guide shook his head, brushing past you and the brothers. He headed into the forest, and you followed a few paces behind. You would never admit it, but the woods had always unsettled you just a bit. You tightened your grip on your bag and pushed forward. 

Dean had apparently learned the guide’s name from Haley while you were lost in your own anxiety. “Roy, you said you did a little hunting.” He quickened his step to pass you and get up next to Roy. 

“Yeah, more than a little.” The response came gruff and disinterested. 

“Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”

You could feel where this was going. ‘Don’t fucking provoke him, Winchester.’

“Mostly buck, sometimes bear.” The disinterest was ever present in Roy’s tone as he continued to scan the treeline in front of him. 

Dean passed him up, doing that obnoxiously confident backwards walk again. “Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?” 

Suddenly, Roy grabbed Dean’s jacket roughly. You nearly flinched.

“Whatcha doing, Roy?” Dean’s tone had hardened.

Roy grabbed a stick, and peering around Dean you could see the jaws of a bear trap close around it inches from Dean’s boot. 

“You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger.” 

‘Damn.’

Roy dropped the stick and took the lead once more.

Dean turned around to the rest of the group. “It's a bear trap.”

You scoffed. 

You could hear Haley’s quickened step crunching leaves as she passed you to catch up to Dean. “You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers.” She grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. “So who the hell are you?”

The teenage boy passed his sister and Dean. You and Sam hesitated behind Haley, shooting Dean a quizzical look. Dean jerked his head for the two of you to go on. You followed Sam forward, but hung back close enough that you could hear Dean and Haley’s conversation. 

“Sam and I are brothers, and we're looking for our father. (Y/N) is—” you were interested in this explanation, “—a friend of ours.” 

‘Oh, so we’re friends now.’

“He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat.”

“Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?”

“I'm telling you now. 'sides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman. ...ever. So, we okay?” 

‘Wonder how many times he’s used that line.’ You caught that same squeeze happening in your chest happening again. You desperately wished to get ahold of yourself and snap out of it. ‘He’s just pretty to look at. He’s a complete douche. Get it together, girl.’

You had missed Haley’s response to Dean’s “heartfelt” admission, but heard “And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?” You heard the rustling of a plastic bag behind you, and remembered the bag of peanut M&Ms he had bought at a gas station before coming here. You heard Dean start walking again, and you hurried ahead to catch up with Sam and not look like you were snooping. 

Dean had apparently noticed you were hanging back and chuckled to himself. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

He walked up beside you. “Jealous?”

“What?” you turned to him, feigning disgust. “Fuck no.”

“So… you were just snooping because…?”

You wanted to smack the smug grin off his face. His amusement at your aggravation riled you up even more. “I was just curious what she thought of us. And to be frank, I don’t exactly trust your ability to explain things away. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” You knew he didn’t believe you. “That’s all.” 

You petulantly stole the bag of peanut M&Ms from him.

“Hey! (Y/N)!” 

You marched on.

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” Roy announced after what felt like hours of walking. Your anxiety around getting lost in the forest was only deepening. That was what it all boiled down to. You had a fear of not being in control, and the idea of a place where every “landmark” looked the same, wildlife ruled the terrain, and being alone in it was pretty much a death sentence, scared you pretty severely. Not to mention, the time you almost bled to death in the middle of the woods had another hunter not found you.

You had no means of identifying where you’d come back from. All the trees seemed the same to you. You had no idea how you were going to get back to the car at the end of the day; if you were even going to make it out of here by the end of the day. You had been walking for so long that you were sure you’d be sleeping out here tonight. The thought of that frightened you even more. 

What truly unsettled you was that the sounds you had been hearing up until you made it to Blackwater Ridge— crickets, leaves rustling, birds chirping— all of it had been silenced. 

“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy announced.

The younger Winchester stopped him. “You shouldn't go off by yourself.”

Roy’s snark almost rivaled Dean’s. “That's sweet. Don't worry about me.” He waved his gun around and pushed between the two brothers to head deeper into the forest. 

Dean turned to the rest of your group. “Alright, everybody stays together. Let's go.”

‘Great. More fucking woods.’ You marched forward, trying to put on a brave face.

Sam’s eyes softened when he caught sight of you. “You okay?”

Apparently, your “brave face” wasn’t as brave as you thought. “Yeah, why?”

“You look… kinda nervous.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m, uh, kinda scared of the forest, honestly.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Dean’s mocking tone interrupted your vulnerable moment. “You’re scared of a little woods?” He jutted out his bottom lip, feigning a pout. 

“Fuck off, Winchester. I’m fine.”

“Whoa, touchy. Relax.” Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Was just poking fun, that’s all.”

“Okay, well, it wasn’t funny. So, fuck off.” You rushed ahead, still white-knuckling the duffel bag on your shoulder. 

Before Dean could catch up to you or respond, Roy called out from quite a bit ahead. “Haley! Over here!”

Haley took off in the direction of Roy’s voice, closely followed by you. Haley froze at the sight in front of her. “Oh, my God.”

In the clearing Roy had found, bloodied, torn open tents surrounded mutilated camping supplies and backpacks. Deep gashes in the tent material and the surrounding trees were jagged and stained with blood around the edges. The sight wasn’t making your queasiness any better.

“Looks like a grizzly.”

‘No, it doesn’t, Roy,’ you thought. 

Haley’s backpack hit the ground next to you, and she tore through the campsite; screaming her brother’s name. 

Sam moved to quiet her down. She kept screaming. A much harsher “Shh!” passed Sam’s lips, finally getting the girl to settle down. 

“Why?” she questioned defensively. 

“Something might still be out there,” he answered. 

Dean called his brother’s name from the other end of the campsite. You followed Sam over to the sound of Dean’s voice.

You crouched down next to Sam. Dean snapped a stick and pointed to a set of drag marks on the ground. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird. I'll tell you what, that's no skinwalker or black dog.”

The three of you stood and returned to the campsite to find Haley crying on the ground over her brother’s broken and bloodied phone. 

“Hey, he could still be alive,” Dean told her. She shot him a confused and slightly angry look. 

Out of nowhere, a scratchy male voice started gutturally calling, “Help! Help!”

Roy was quick to run to the shouter’s aid. However, you weren’t so sure it was a real person screaming like that. 

“Help! Somebody!” came again.

The brothers started off to follow Roy. 

“Wait, guys!” you called, not wanting to be left alone despite your hesitation. 

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” Sam called.

You dropped your duffel in your rush to follow Sam’s voice. When you found where the group had gathered, you could see the brothers searching the treeline. You licked your teeth, upset that your intuition was right. Your group had found no one.

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley said, confused.

“Everybody get back to camp,” you ordered.

You followed the path you were pretty sure would get you back to the mangled campsite. Thankfully, your sense of direction was right, but all of your supplies had been taken by the time you returned. 

“Our packs!” Haley exclaimed.

Roy grumbled, “So much for my GPS and my satellite phone.”

“What the hell is going on?” Haley was catching on. 

“It’s smart. It’s trying to isolate us so we can’t call for help. It knows we won’t last long without supplies,” you stated. 

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear.” The guide’s voice was hard and angry.

“I need to speak with you two. In private.” You pulled the brothers aside by their jackets. Dean shrugged your hand off him. 

“Can I see your dad’s journal?” you asked. Yours had been taken along with your duffel bag. 

“No, why?” Dean asked petulantly. 

“Please, dude, c’mon.” You were not in the mood.

“Give it to her, Dean,” Sam chimed in.

Dean rolled his eyes and handed it over. 

You flipped through until you found a page marked by a First Nations-style drawing of a tall figure with long claws labeled “Wendigo.” You looked up at the boys expectantly.

“Oh, come on, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west,” Dean responded.

“Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice,” you tried to reason. 

“Great.” He took his pistol out of his belt. “Well, then this is useless.”

“I told you guns don’t work on everything,” you quipped.

“Shut up.”

Sam took the journal from you and handed it back to his brother. “We gotta get these people to safety.” He led you and Dean back to the group. “All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”

Haley seemed pissed. “What?”

“Kid, don't worry.” Roy’s tone was almost patronizing. “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now,” Sam countered. 

“One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders.” Roy was now getting in Sam’s face.

“C’mon, Roy, chill out,” you told him, pressing a hand to Sam’s chest to keep him from stepping to Roy.

Sam let you keep your hand there, but still bit back at Roy. “We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you.”

“You protect me? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.” The guide was so close you could smell the chewing tobacco on his breath.

Sam still refused to back down. “Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here.”

Roy laughed mockingly. “You know you're crazy, right?”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—” 

Dean pushed you out the way and shoved his brother back. “Relax!”

Haley got between you, the boys, and Roy. “Stop. Stop it. Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”

You considered for a moment the implications of what may happen if you allowed them to stay. 

Dean broke the silence. “It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley asked. 

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” you began. “We don’t really have the time for the ‘monsters under the bed are real’ talk. This thing is a Wendigo. I’m gonna start carving some symbols into the ground. No one crosses the circle once I’ve drawn it. Got it?”

Haley nodded at you. “What can I do?”

“Build a fire with— sorry, I never caught his name,” you gestured to the teenager next to her. 

“Ben,” Haley told you. 

“Ben. You two start gathering enough wood and tinder to keep a fire going. Don’t go too far, though, please.”

She and Ben nodded at you before setting off.

“Thank you,” you called after the Collins siblings. “Sam, Dean, help me with the Anasazi symbols.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. You were surprised at his compliance.

After a while of scuttling across the forest floor drawing a circle of Anasazi symbols around the campsite, the sun had set. Haley and Ben had long since returned and were tending the fire. As you finished the last symbol, you brushed the dirt off your hands on your jeans. 

Haley looked up at you from her place by the fire. “One more time, that's—”

“Anasazi symbols. It's for protection,” Dean explained. “The wendigo can't cross over them.”

Roy laughed, feeling the need to assert the fact he thought this was bullshit. 

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” Dean told him, clearly fatigued of the man’s attitude.

Roy turned his attention back to the treeline with his gun over his shoulder. You followed Dean over to where Sam sat away from the group at the edge of the campsite. 

“You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?” Dean asked his brother.

“Dean—” the younger one began to protest. You sat down next to him.

“No, you're not fine.” Of course, he already knew what Sam was going to say.  “You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got enough of that attitude with just him, Sam.”

Dean nudged the tip of your boot with his harshly. You returned his glare petulantly. 

“Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?” Sam’s mind was clearly going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, you're probably right. Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek.”

You decided to just sit back and listen for a moment before throwing your two cents in. 

“Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. 

“This is why.” Dean held out his dad’s journal to his brother. “This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

Sam shook his head. “That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just—call us? Why doesn't he—tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”

Sam’s eyes began to well with tears. “Dean, no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about.”

“Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me.” Sam looked up at Dean. “You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”

Sam looked away again, still fighting the tears congealing in his water line. “How do you two do it? How does Dad do it?”

You let Dean take that question. “Well for one, them.” He gestured to Haley and Ben. “I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable.”

You paused, looking down at the dirt and twigs below you before speaking. “It’s kind of the same for me. I don’t have a family anymore.” You felt Dean’s gaze on you, but kept the burning in your cheeks at bay. “This is really all I’ve ever known. I know I couldn’t go back to a normal life after all this. So, I do what I can to help everyone else’s lives feel a little more normal. Not everybody needs to know what’s really out there. It kinda brings me peace knowing I’m helping somebody else live their life relatively worry-free.”

Dean continued. “I'll tell you what else helps.”

You looked back up at him. 

“Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.” 

You smiled at Dean genuinely for the first time. 

A twig snapped, breaking you and the boys out of the little bonding moment you’d just had. The same, slightly unhuman grainy voice screamed out again from somewhere in the trees. “Help me! Please!”

Dean stands with his gun. You thought about pointing out the fact that it was useless, but decided to keep it to yourself. 

“Help!” the strained sound came again.

Sam shined his flashlight through the tree line.

“He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put,” Dean told the group.

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy quipped.

“Shut up, would you?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Help! Help me!” The voice seemed to become more distant before a low growl emanated from just outside the circle.

Roy pointed his gun at the sound. “Okay, that's no grizzly.”

“Oh, now you believe us,” you quipped. 

“(Y/N),” Dean warned, still facing the outside of the circle. 

Something rushed past where Haley and Ben were standing. She let out a scream. 

“It's here,” the younger Winchester stated.

The guide shot at the rustling bushes, and then again. “I hit it!” He took off before you could protest.

“Roy, no!” you immediately ran after him.

You could hear Dean behind you addressing the Collinses, but barely registered it while trying to follow Roy. 

“Roy! Come back!” you called. 

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” the man called back.

Just as you reached him, something grabbed onto Roy’s shoulders and began pulling him up into the tree above.

“Roy!” you grabbed his ankles, doing your best to pull him back down to the ground. 

Roy was screaming above you, and the Wendigo’s strength was too much for you. Roy’s screaming was cut off sharply by a snapping sound. In that moment, you knew he was gone. You let Roy’s legs go and dropped back down to the ground. 

The Winchester brothers appeared at that second, rushing to your side.

“You okay?” Sam asked, helping you up. “Where’s Roy?”

You shook your head. “He’s gone.”

You and the boys headed back to camp to find Haley and Ben huddled together. Haley was caught off-guard by your return, and nearly took you out with her makeshift torch-weapon. “Shit!” she yelped. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Easy, tiger.”

She threw her torch back into the fire. “Where’s Roy?”

Your smile faded. “I tried to help him. I’m sorry.”

She nodded somberly. A saddened, heavy air fell over your camp as the remaining five of you tried to go to sleep before your undoubtedly busy day tomorrow.

Haley and Ben settled down near the fire with tatters of backpacks and tent material as pillows and blankets respectively. You and Dean forced Sam to lay down and rest because it was evident via the bags under his eyes that he’d had none over the last several days. 

“I’ll take first watch,” you told Dean, settling your back against the stump of a tree near where Sam had started falling asleep.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“First of all, stop calling me that,” you snapped. “Second, it wasn’t a suggestion. I’m taking first watch. Go to sleep.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Why don’t you trust me?” you countered.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re the last person to have seen my dad before he ‘mysteriously disappeared’?”

“You’re not seriously suggesting—” you scoffed, and Dean cut you off again.

“Maybe because I don’t even know you. Maybe because you so readily agreed to just hitch a ride with Sam and I the day Jessica died. Maybe those are some good reasons not to trust you.”

“Dean, I had nothing to do with your dad’s disappearance. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m on my own. Sorry that I was just excited to finally have someone willing to take me along with them. And I don’t give a shit about you, honestly. I do give a shit about Sam, though, and I’m not gonna leave while he’s in this headspace. And I wanna help you find your dad.”

“Why do you care so much?” he hissed in retaliation.

“Because I don’t have any family. I want to help reunite yours. Like you said earlier, it helps you feel a little better and sleep a little easier at night.” Your voice had softened considerably, and you turned your attention from Dean to your hands folded in your lap. 

“Fine, but after we find my dad, you’re gone,” he responded after a moment.

“Fine.” You turned away from him, hugging your knees to your chest. “I’m still taking first watch.” 

“Whatever, (Y/N).” You could hear Dean moving around behind you. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

All you got was a huff in response. 

At some point that night, Sam was actually the one to take over your watch. He’d woken up from a nightmare, and you knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. You did your best to get some sleep despite your heightened sense of awareness from your unsettling surroundings and the anger you still felt at Dean after your argument. 

When you did awaken, Sam was sitting against the tree next to you, Dean was talking to Haley about the origin of Wendigos, and Haley was grilling Dean about how he knows about monsters.

“Kind of runs in the family,” was all Dean answered her question with. 

You felt Sam push off the tree behind you. You still hadn’t rolled over from your sleeping position. 

“So we've got half a chance in the daylight,” Sam announced to the group. “And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in,” you heard Dean respond. 

“'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours',” Sam explained. 

You began stretching while Dean continued educating Haley and Ben. “They're hundreds of years old. Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How's a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asked.

“Well, it's always the same,” the older Winchester continued while you started to make your way over to them, brushing leaves out of your hair with your fingers. “During some harsh winter a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner Party.” That was the first you’d ever heard Ben speak.

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality,” Sam continued. 

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry,” Dean finished.

“So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Haley waited for the answer with baited breath.

“You're not gonna like it.”

“Tell me.” Haley steeled herself.

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It—” Dean seemed to be searching for the right words, “—uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?”

You spoke up for the first time, holding an empty beer bottle, a white cloth, and a can of lighter fluid you’d found from near the camp. “Guns are useless, so, Molotov cocktail, baby.”

You could swear Dean cracked a smile at you, but you refused to acknowledge it. 

The sun had risen much higher since your crew had first started walking. You had passed multiple trees with bloodied claw marks on them. It was starting to unsettle you, quite honestly. You’d just passed the seventh or eighth claw-marked tree  when you decided to bring Sam’s attention to your thought process.

“You know, I was thinking, those claw marks are so clear and distinct. Not at all as jagged as they were on Mr. Shaw’s scar or the tree where the thing snatched Roy. They were almost too easy to follow.”

Almost as if on cue, a low growl rumbled from above and trees rustled. Haley looked up before jerking herself out of the way. And good thing she had, because Roy’s corpse soon landed where she’d stood. 

Dean inspected Roy’s corpse while Sam helped Haley up. “His neck's broke.”

The growling continued. 

Upon hearing the sound, Dean started to bark out, “Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go!”

You immediately split. You were always quite a fast runner and light on your feet. You and Haley took the lead of the group and could hear the boys’ thundering footsteps behind you. 

Before you knew it, the growling had landed right in front of you. You and Haley were brought to a skidding halt before the creature. Haley yelped as the creature grabbed your legs and began dragging the two of you. You took the bag of peanut M&Ms you’d stolen from Dean out of your jacket’s inner pocket. You let the bag’s contents out slowly as sticks and rocks scraped up your dragging body. The last thing you felt was a sharp pain on the back of your head before you vision blacked out completely.

The next time you came to, the first thing you felt were your aching wrists and hands on either side of your face. You could faintly hear Dean calling your name, and your vision began to get less hazy as Dean’s voice became more clear. 

When Dean’s annoyingly beautiful, worried face finally came into focus, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper.”

You could hear Sam laughing behind Dean and Dean sighed. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounded relieved. 

Sam reached above you to cut your wrists down. “You okay?”

Despite your aching joints, you said, “Yeah.”

Sam helped you over to one of the cave’s walls. “You sure you're alright?”

“Yeah. Yep,” you groaned. “Where is he?”

“He's gone for now.” 

“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, making Sam laugh a little. “Oh, sweet.” You noticed the stolen duffel bags next to you and started rummaging through yours. Haley let out a shriek, causing you to jerk your head in her direction. She’d found her brother, and thankfully, he was alive. 

“Cut him down!” Haley ordered. Sam got to work. 

You found a flare gun in Dean’s duffel bag, saying, “Check it out.” to the rest of your group.

“Flare guns. Those'll work,” Sam responded, grinning.

You laughed, throwing one of the guns at Dean who caught it easily. He twirled it around his finger, smirking at you.

“Enough fooling around, let’s go,” Haley urged. She shouldered her brother, and with Ben’s help, started moving down the mine shaft.

You and Sam held up the rear of the group while Dean took the lead. Amidst the clunky shuffling of Tommy’s weakened body down the shaft, you could hear the same deep, low growling you’d heard in the forest. 

“Looks like someone's home for supper,” quipped Dean, scanning the corridor ahead of him.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley said.

Dean looked back at you and Sam. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam responded.

“I don’t,” you chimed in.

“You’ll catch on,” Dean shot back. “All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam and (Y/N). They’re gonna get you out of here.”

“What are you gonna do?” Haley asked the older Winchester. 

He winked at her, shooting her that same smile he’d shot you one of the first times you’d met him. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. He started yelling moments later, walking away from you. “Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

‘I bet he does.’ You surprised yourself. ‘What? What the fuck? He’s an asshole.’

Sam’s voice brought you out of your head. “All right, come on! Hurry!”

Your group rushed down the tunnel. You stayed in the rear, and Sam headed up to the front. He began leading your group down to where you could faintly see a bit of daylight peeking through. 

And then, the growling again. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Get him outta here!” you instructed the Collinses. 

“(Y/N), no,” Haley told you.

“Go!” you urged her. 

She finally nodded and started pulling her brothers down the tunnel with her. You aimed your flare gun at the direction where the growling was coming from. 

“C’mon, motherfucker,” you grumbled, scanning the tunnel. 

“(Y/N)!” Sam called from behind you. 

You wheeled around to come face to face with the Wendigo. In your startle, you missed your shot with the flare gun. Your only other option was to take off after the three Collins siblings, closely followed by Sam.

“Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sam ordered the group. “Get behind me.” Given Sam’s size, he was able to hide all three Collinses behind him. You knew your pistol was no use, but you still aimed it at the creature anyway. 

The Wendigo approached, taking its time in getting to you. 

“Hey!” you suddenly heard Dean from behind the Wendigo. It wheeled around, only for Dean to shoot it in the stomach. 

Flames curled up the Wendigo’s horribly disfigured body in twisted tendrils. The creature let out a howl before collapsing to the ground in a pile of burning embers. 

Dean was revealed behind where the Wendigo previously stood. “Not bad, huh?”

Despite yourself, you grinned. 

A quite chipper, clearly freshman EMT had patched you up upon your return to civilization. You had an uncomfortable laceration on your neck, a few scrapes above your eyebrow, and your wrists burned from where you had been tied up. You’d survive, it would just take you a few days to recover from. 

You watched from a short distance as Haley approached Dean, both of whom had been patched up. You scowled as Dean smirked lasciviously at Haley and couldn’t help the bile rising in your throat when Haley leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek. She said one final thing to Dean before walking toward the ambulance carrying Tommy with Ben. 

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” she called to you.

You waved at her with a lopsided smile. She returned your grin before hopping into the back of the ambulance. 

Sam motioned for you to come back over to Dean’s car. 

“Man, I hate camping,” said Dean as you approached.

“Me too,” you shivered.

“Still scared of the woods?” he asked you, his tone slightly patronizing.

You ignored his tone and answered earnestly. “Definitely. Probably more so, now.” You crossed your arms over your body and hugged yourself. 

A moment of silence passed before Dean addressed his brother. “Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “But in the meantime? I'm driving.”

Dean lolled his head to the side dramatically before tossing the keys to Sam. Recalling your fight with Dean at the campsite, you hesitated to get in the car when the brothers did. 

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Sam asked out of the driver’s side window. “Let’s go.” 

You nodded, conceding, and hopped into the backseat. You threw your legs up on the leather beside you and stared out the window. Out of the corner of your eye, you could swear Dean was staring at you. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891

[dottiro]

Lethal Pursuer

Unreliable summary:  You’re at a club with friends when you meet Ajax—a charming ginger, whose company you’re starting to enjoy. // When your friends abandon you without a way home, Ajax offers you to stay at his place until your friends pick you up. Warnings: Yandere, clubbing, mentions of alcohol, being drugged, kidnapping, GN reader. Note: This is a rewrite of THIS fic from my old blog. Big thanks to @teabutmakeitazure for encouraging me with the emojis and comments on my doc <3

Over the sound of music, a voice calls out to you. 

“What’s your name?” 

When you turn around, the colourful lights that spin around the club hit a stranger's face. Freckles that were previously hidden appear on the bridge of his nose, creating constellations on his skin before they fade when the lights move.

I’m Y/n. You?”

A pair of dull blue eyes are locked on you. With a boyish smile, the stranger watches you sway to the beats of music echoing around the club. 

“I’m Ajax.” He answers as he brushes the ginger hair that had fallen before his eyes. With inspecting eyes you notice a streak of lighter hair amongst his untamed locks.

To your surprise, the name is native to Snezhnaya. However, you can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unusual clothing and tanning—which are uncommon. 

“You’re a local?”  

When he tilts his head towards the side, you move closer, repeating your question.

“Morepesok.” His leg bounces unmatched to the beat of the music. With him leaning in closer, you feel the strands of his hair brush against your cheek. “I grew up there. It’s a seaside village. Though, recently, I’ve been spending my days in the capital.” 

You repeat his answer in your mind. Morepesok… it sounds familiar.

Ajax leans back, a charming smile spreading along his cheeks as he points at you. Through the sounds of music, you’re unable to hear him. 

When he repeats it, you focus on the way his lips part and you understand his words; 

‘You?’

You entered the club with friends a few hours before your quid-pro-quo with Ajax. It was a Friday that had lasted an eternity, and once you were cleared from your duties, you decided through text to go clubbing. That way, you could catch up while simultaneously destressing over drinks. 

Then, after assigning your designated driver for the night, the alcohol did the rest. 

With your friends on the dancefloor, some alcohol buzzing through your body, and the loud music; you were able to forget the stress that had accumulated over the past weeks.

Soon, you found yourself an admirer. Then, a free drink. Then…

“Another one?” You say with a hint of a joke as Ajax approaches—again. 

A mischievous smile forms on his lips. He swirls the cup in his left hand while bringing the other to his lips. He teases you. “Don’t tell me, you’re a lightweight?”

You roll your eyes at him.

It’s been a while since you’ve strayed from your friends and found company in your stranger. Though, you suppose ‘strangers’ is no longer the right word for him.

Ajax hands you the cup from his left hand. “You seem tired. Did you have a long day?” 

“Yes, but I’m not ready to go home yet.” You take the drink to your lips and let the liquid slide past your lips.  

Ajax’s eyes strain when he forces them to move from yours. Between looks, he scans the area. Eventually, he finds a place and gestures his head to the bar. “Need a break? I can search for your friends while you’ll take a rest.”

His offering solidifies that his act of tonight has been genuine. 

You can’t help but smile.

“Thank you, but it’s alright. I know you’ll keep me company, right?”

“I’d be offended if you’d assume otherwise.” He places his hands on his hips. A dramatic huff escapes his lips, but you catch the corner of his lip curling into a cheeky smile. 

Escaping your problems only works for a short while. Before long, no matter how hard you run, you’re confronted with them again. As much as you love to hang out with your friends—to dance the night away with Ajax, you’ve grown tired of the music and the happy faces, knowing it’s all temporary. 

Yet, you hang on as tightly as possible. 

Under the colourful lights, you share a brief, knowing, glance; a silent whisper to each other, hoping the night would last for just a while longer. 

As you head toward the bar together, the lively atmosphere of the club wraps around you. With most people on the dancefloor and away from the seats, finding a place isolated from the crowd takes no effort. 

Settling into a darker corner of the bar, you take a deep breath. Here, the noise of the music and people seems to fade, giving you a sense of privacy amidst the chaos. 

Those dark blue eyes meet yours again. This time, the recognition in them speaks volumes. 

“So, Ajax.” You emphasise his name, letting the two vowels slur into each other. “What do you do?”

Despite the music being in the background, he furrows his eyebrows and hesitates. With the lack of dancing lights, you can’t grasp the emotion in his eyes. Darkness has cast a shadow over you, making you huddle up to him. 

Believing he didn’t hear you, you specify; “Your work?”

The ginger leans back, then forces a smile, and finally raises an eyebrow. “I do a bit of everything, I guess.”

He’s leaning closer again. The smell of his cologne makes you feel dizzy.

Playfully you roll your eyes. The drinks you’ve drank have made you bolder. “Come on, tell me! You can’t say that without expecting me to be curious.”

“Okay, so, I’m serious. Please don’t laugh.” His finger mindlessly caresses the rim of the empty glass on the table. Then, with a look of despair, Childe answers with the unexpected. “I'm a toyseller.”

You put your hand up to your mouth to hide a smile. His answer, not to mention the buildup, makes you unable to hide your chuckle. The thought of him surrounded by stuffed bears and wooden cars creeps into your mind. While it’s a cute scenario, it seems silly when he is physically built to win battles.  

Carefully, you remove your hands, revealing a broad smile. “No way. You’re kidding.” 

He bashfully smiles and gives a light shrug. “What, you don’t think I’m capable enough? I’ll have you know that my little brother says I’m the best toymaker in Teyvat.”

“You also make them?” 

He crosses his arms, leaning forward like you did moments ago, his voice whispering in your ear.  “Enough about me. Tell me more about you.”

Your cheeks warm up and you’re grateful for the darkness. “Me? Well…”

Something about his playful yet clumsy attitude leaves you entranced, easing you to open up to him—something that normally doesn't come easy.

“I might've teased you, but at least your life sounds entertaining. My job is hardly anything to boast about. Sure, it brings money, but I hardly get time off and my boss is an uptight prick who thinks he’s above everyone else.”

There is a short silence before you continue,

“At least I can say I’ve decided to chase my dreams. Despite ending up with an ordinary life, I’ve at least escaped my hometown.”

Ajax frowns. “What about your boss?” He spreads his legs further, becoming more intruding physically and in conversation as he unknowingly presses the subject. “Why? Is he giving you any problems?”

You shrug. “It's not like he picks on me specifically. He's the kind of person that can't be pleased, no matter how perfect one might be.”

A silence falls over your perfect stranger.

You try to lighten the air. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight has made me forget all about it. In the end, it’s just work.”

“Yeah,” He forces a smile that fails to hide his frustration with the topic. “Just work.”

“Take it like this; if he didn’t give me such a rough workload, I likely wouldn’t have gone clubbing tonight, which means I would’ve missed meeting you.” You push your elbow against his arm. “So for all the things he does wrong, he did one thing right.”

In the background, you hear the energetic lyrics and melody from the songs. You turn your eyes towards the crowd and fail to see any of your friends.

For the first time since Ajax approached you, you decide to check your phone.

Lockscreen— time: 1:03.

6 missed calls, 99+ unread messages.

What? Is it this late already?

You stand abruptly, leaving your drink unfinished with Ajax. Your eyes fly over the notifications, reading the messages you’ve missed—starting from the first at 21:42 to the last sent at 00:46.

In your group chat, many missed messages cheer for the night. 

It starts with a few videos of you and your friends dancing, still together at the start of the night. Then, after an hour, wishes for you and the ‘hot ginger’ to have a ‘safe’ night start. Between the teases, you capture a picture of you and him talking on the dancefloor, still having fun. Then, more pictures and conversations with your drunk friends follow. Until, finally, the message; ‘We went back home, if you need a ride, call us.’

You feel your heart sink to the bottom of your toes. 

There is no doubt that your friends are good people. They mean well, meant well, but a feeling of betrayal slithers through the cracks of your love for them. It makes you feel guilty, yet angry with them.

In frustration, you swipe away the notifications for the missed calls. 

“Are you alright?” Ajax’s voice is next to you when he speaks. You instinctively turn off your phone and face him. Quickly, he holds up his arms, giving you space. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, that’s not—” You frown. “I didn’t mean to cut our conversation off. I was surprised by the time.” 

Ajax lowers his hands to his sides and tries to comfort you. “Did anything happen?”

You close your eyes. Your words come out mangled and wrong. “I think I’m going to go out for a moment. I just saw that my friends left the club without me and I need to call them, or else they’ll pass out and I’ll have no ride home.”

Already a step ahead, Ajax puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. With one arm, he hands you your jacket which went forgotten by you. 

“Will you be alright, Y/n?” 

A lump forms in your throat and you purse your lips to keep yourself grounded.

Bright lights in many shades hit the side of Ajax’s face, bringing forward his best features, not to mention a strong determined expression. During the night he has in no way forced himself on you, and you consider your choices. 

Either you can call your friends and hope for the best as you wait alone outside the club; which will be cold, dark, and uncomfortable for many more reasons. Not to mention that there is no guarantee your friends won't be passed out—they might not pick up. Worst case scenario: you’ll be stranded for the night.

Or (and this option is preferable), you can call your friends and ask Ajax to wait with you. Worst case scenario: he turns out to be a creep and you’ll have to retreat into the club.

You flash your eyes to him once more, finding nothing in them. 

Eventually, you decide to let go of your doubt. While it’s not a ride home, Ajax would be at your side, willing to stay there if you’d ask. 

You really need to ask for his number before the night ends. 

Your fingers subconsciously fiddle with the case of your phone, finding comfort in the repeating motion. “Is it alright if you could stay by my side until I find my friends?” Your eyes dart to the crowd, then back at him. “I’m not in the mood to be bothered by some creep.”

“Of course, I get that.” The lights have left him and his expression is left in the void again. You can guess from his tone he is trying to lighten the mood with a joke. With a puffed-out chest, he bows down slightly. “Tonight, I’ll be your loyal knight.”

The lights and people blur into one mass. Since he’s taller and broader, you follow Ajax’s lead as he paves a way through the crowd, helping you avoid bumping into distracted or drunk clubbers.

When he opens the doors and you step outside, the harsh Snezhnayan breeze hits your face, making your mind clearer within a moment.

“Huh, it seems like most people have already left.” Ajax lets the door fall behind him as he looks around the area. “There are hardly any people left.”

Clinging onto your jacket, you resist a shiver from the cold. “Compared to the club, even Our Majesty’s palace can be considered empty.”

He turns around. “Let’s go to the side. We wouldn’t want to block the exit for any drunk people.”

Compared to the space you have just left, the abandoned streets in Snezhnaya are as silent as a graveyard. Only a few people linger around; either sitting in the snow against the buildings or smoking in a group. 

Snowflakes from the night sky dance down, falling on your head and melting against your skin. Tonight’s clouds are broken apart and far from each other. When you look up, you can see the stars in the sky.

“What happened?” Childe asks as he guides you through the snow. 

“With my friends?” He nods. “I think they misunderstood the situation. Jumped to conclusions and decided they knew what was fact before I could respond.” 

“I can’t defend them, but I know they must be good people if they’re your friends.” Childe kicks the snow in front of his feet. His hands are in his pocket and a puff of air escapes his lips. “Try to stay calm. I’m sure they’re waiting for your call.”

You stop at the corner of the club. On your phone, you click open the group app’s information to reveal the contacts of everyone. Without much hesitation, you open the number of your designated driver—and supposedly the only one sober. 

When you push the call button, Ajax takes a few steps back to give you privacy. 

After a few long moments, you reach voicemail. 

“You good over there?” When you look at Childe, he also has a phone in hand. His lower back is leaning onto the side of the building, watching you pace back and forth on the pavement.

“Yeah, but it went to voicemail.” You focus on your phone again. “I’ll try someone else.”

With haste, you dial the next friend. They’re not sober but knowing how often they look on their phone, they’re likely to pick up.

Unfortunately, again; voicemail.

You frown and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach grows bigger. The last text message had been 30 minutes ago. They should be home by now.

“Nothing?”

You look up at Ajax. Once again, you shake your head. 

“Hey, it’s okay. If you want we can go back inside and wait till they call back?” Ajax puts his phone in his pocket and walks up to you. When he’s at your side he puts a hand on the small of your back, rubbing it back and forth to bring you warmth.

You put your hands in your hair and walk away from him, only to pace back. “I’m just worried something has happened. This sucks, but it’s so unlike them. I can’t imagine them leaving me behind in a club like this.”

“I…” He hesitates, “I might not have a car to drive you home, but if you’re comfortable enough, I live nearby. You can send my address to your friends and crash there until they call. Only if you want to, of course. I can wait with you in the club if you'd rather.”

Your first instinct is to reject him and to continue calling, trusting your friends will pick up eventually. Then, you realise you’re too drunk to find help elsewhere, lest you’d want to trust the bartenders who have their hands full and will have you crash in the back of the club without surveillance. 

And on your face, these thoughts must come through, because Ajax shakes his hands before him. “Just an offering. A stupid one, maybe. But a genuine one. Again, if you’d prefer, I can wait with you here. I thought you might consider something else because you’ve been swaying for a while now.”

Through his rushed words, you realise your options are narrowing down. Could you walk home? Are you drunk to the point where you’re unable to stand? A warm home to wait in does sound nice… 

Plus, Ajax is nice, right? 

The headache that’s been looming over you intensifies.

“Okay, but let me message your address to my friends first. So, they know where to pick me up, ” 

Snowflakes from the sky twirl down until they land on the ground. 

Patiently, he watches you open the location app. Then, when you ask for it, he tells you his address—which is close to the club as promised. The soles of his shoes tap against the pavement as he watches the brightness of your screen flash. —You’ve sent it to your friends. 

You turn off your phone and drop it in your pocket once you’re done. 

“I just wanted to say this out loud so you can’t say I’m leading you on, but I’m only joining you to wait until my friends can pick me up. That’s alright, right?”

Childe doesn’t miss the hesitation in your eyes when you look at him. 

Deep inside, hidden in an abyss, he wants to tear away all your doubts and carve his name for you to trust. Deep inside, he hopes you know he’d conquer the world in your name—if only you’d let him. 

Then, as soon as it comes, it leaves. Ajax gives you a boyish grin. “Of course. It’d hardly be justified if I were to leave you abandoned here, so it’s the least I can do.”

The sound of his carefree voice is enough to make that warm feeling return, and for a split second, you believe you saw the stars reflected in his eyes. Though, it must’ve been the lighting, because when the shadows fall upon him again, it fades away.

Before you walk out of the street, Childe puts one of his arms out with a playful wink.

You intertwine yours around it. 

The streets are empty and dark, but silence does not fill them in Ajax’s presence. 

Noticing your stress early on, he asks silly questions to bring your mind away from negative thoughts, returning you to the start of the night; enjoying his presence, and feeling light. 

Innocent questions; ‘Hey, what’s your favourite colour?’, teasing ones; ‘Got an eye on anyone at the moment?’, and serious follow;

“You should get better friends. What would’ve happened if you were all alone? It’s concerning no one called back.” 

The streetlights set for a sober mood. Empty streets, dark homes and a dimly lit sidewalk.

You frown at the pavement below your feet.

“They didn’t abandon me. They assumed I went home with you and then decided to leave themselves.”

A chuckle leaves his lips and he turns his head to you with a tilt. “You didn’t strike me as someone who’d go home with some guy from the club.”

“I don’t,” You trip over your words, not wanting to offend Ajax. “Well, not normally.” 

“If you want, we can always return to the club. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You had walked a while with the world swaying from side to side. A few more houses and you’d be at his home, yet he offers to take return if you feel uncomfortable. 

He is almost too nice. 

“No, I’m alright.” You smile before frowning. “I guess I’m a bit worried though.”

“About your friends?”

You nod. “The situation feels off.”

You’re unsure why it does.

On your side, Ajax stares straight ahead. He gestures forward. “My home is at the end of this street. I don’t have a car, but I can call a friend in the morning to drive you home. It’s only a few more hours till sunrise. Think you can hold out for a bit longer?”

You smile when you turn to face him. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that. And—” You shake your hands in front of you and an awkward laugh escapes your lips. “I’m sorry about this mess.”

He shrugs. “I had no reason to stay in the club, at least, until I saw you. Once you were stranded, I knew I could offer help, so I did. There is nothing more to it.” 

“Were you not with friends though?” You raise an eyebrow at the thought of someone coming to the club alone. Though, perhaps, that’s your prejudices talking.

“I know the owner of the club. He sometimes bartends himself, though—lucky for you, he didn’t have a shift today, so I was fortunate to have spotted you.”

He cuts himself off and turns his hand towards a house towards the right, stopping in front of it with a smile. If this is his home, it’s surprisingly ordinary. Hidden amongst other houses, it goes unnoticed. There are no decorations in front of the windows, nothing at all.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Childe says dramatically while he jokingly bows. “It’s nothing big—, but we all have to start somewhere, right?”

He grabs a single key from his pockets. There’s no charm attached, no other keys. 

As weird as it looks, you don’t comment on it.

With a twist of his wrist, Ajax opens the door, holding it and gesturing for you to come in. 

“Feel free to leave your jacket anywhere, shoes too if they bother you.” He throws you a smile over his shoulder as he walks further into the house. You hear him exclaim, “Mi casa, es tu casa.”

Before you enter the place, you check your phone once more. 

No new messages or missed calls. Angrily you send a message, updating and explaining you’ll get a ride from one of his friends if yours keeps ignoring you. 

In another one, you send a few crying emojis, followed by a single angry one.

Once some of your embarrassment is thrown at your friends, you put the phone in your pocket and close the door when you walk in. 

The hallway leading up further into the house is dimly lit. On the side, a set of stairs goes up, indicating another level, as you assumed from the height outside. The walls are painted a cream colour and are devoid of any hanging decorations. You see a set of formal shoes tucked underneath a chest of drawers.

When you walk along the hallway, you notice under the stairs another door—possibly leading up to an attic, although, that’s speculation. Then, at the end of the hallway, a bright light shines through the cracks of the door Ajax had entered.

When you enter the living room you see him fly around in the kitchen. It’s nothing grand and fairly empty compared to your living arrangement, although in theme with the bland hallway. 

You realise he must spend the majority of his time away from home—using the house only to sleep and eat in.

“Here,” Tartaglia turns around with a glass of water, followed by a white pill in his other hand. “You mentioned you were feeling unwell so I thought a painkiller would help you settle down.”

With a smile and a thank you, you accept the offer; downing the pill and water nearly instantly. After you place the empty glass on the kitchen table, you feel drowsiness kick in. You shrug it off to exhaustion.

“Feel free to look around.” Childe walks by you. “It’s past midnight so all the good TV programs are gone, but if you’re interested in commercials, feel free to turn it on.”

“You’re still on cable?” You look at the bulky television which contradicts his brand-new still-sparkling phone. 

Childe looks at the bulky box with you. “What? Not standard?”

“No way.”

Your eyes move to the other things in the living room. Closer to the window and facing the television, two small sofas stand coated in dust. A small rounded table divides them, giving enough room to walk in front of the television to reach the window, and possibly, the thick curtains. 

Gently, you place your jacket over one of the sofas before wandering further.

Placed against the wall is a single bookshelf. It’s filled with many books, related to classical literature or military topics—something you didn’t expect but don’t judge upon. Further, you notice the thin layer of dust, making the clean picture frames stand out.

“Are these your siblings?”

You grab the picture in your hands and lift it closer. A young boy, with the same ginger-coloured hair, smiles into the lens. His eyes are open and noticeably brighter than Ajax’s. Next to him is a girl with similar features, longer hair, and the same smile—although her eyes are closed instead. 

Behind the two children stands Ajax wearing formal clothes. 

Military? No, different.

Childe hums as he approaches you. “Yes, Teucer and Tonia. Though, they’ve both grown significantly since this picture was taken. I have a few older siblings as well.” 

He reaches for another picture frame, set higher. After brushing his finger against the glass he shows it to you. “Here are the others.”

With slow movements, you take the picture frame from his hands. Your fingers move across the picture. He’s much smaller here, but it’s still undoubtedly Ajax.

“You seem so… happy.”

“I was much younger then. Teucer was still a baby so should’ve been, what, twelve?”

After committing the picture to memory, you place them in their original spots. 

When you move to place the higher picture, your head spins. Fortunately, you quickly rebalance yourself. 

With a few harsh blinks, you’re able to ease the spinning. You quickly take another picture frame to distract yourself. 

After a quick look, you realise this picture seems different.

“Who’s this? Teucer?”

Ajax shakes his head. “No. That’s me.”

The ginger in the picture has the same spread of freckles Ajax does. His hair is in the same wild style as he wears it now, but he misses the streak of white. 

Another thing you can’t help but notice is the difference in his smile. 

There is no doubt that Ajax had fun tonight, but his smile never lit up to the smile of this smaller boy. 

In the picture, at his side, you see a child of the same age. 

Even from this picture, it is safe to assume that Ajax was social, if not sometimes obnoxious, when younger. In comparison, this child seems more shy and reclusive. Their head is turned away and you can’t make out their appearance, except for their hair colour. 

You point your finger towards the figure. “And this?” 

While brushing your finger over the glass, you wonder how the two met. Were they no longer friends? Is this the only picture he has of them?

Ajax is silent. 

He mumbles something under his breath. 

When you hum in confusion, he speaks louder.

“You don’t remember?”

You turn your gaze up to him. Your mind remains unsteady and you feel your vision blur again. Like last time, you try to force it away. However, this time you fail and lose your balance.

When you try to break your fall by stepping backwards, you lose all your strength in your legs. You feel them shake as the world spins back, your vision turning from the books on the shelves to the stained ceiling. 

With a loud crash, the frame falls to the ground, breaking beyond repair by the sounds of it. 

Your crash, however, does not happen. 

“▓re yo▒ alr▓▒ht?” 

When your eyes flutter open, you are met with Ajax’s blue eyes. His arms are around you, one supporting your back, and the other wrapped around you to keep you steady on your weak limbs. 

“...what?”

His voice blurs in and out. 

You’re only able to make out mumbles. 

You barely register moving to the sofa.

You do however clearly hear your ringtone. 

Gathering any strength you have left, you reach for your pocket, instinctively moving to accept the call.

With a slurred voice you answer, “Hello?”

“Y/░. Li▒▒▓n, y░u ne▓d to ▓et aw░y Rig▓t. ▓ow.”

You blink a few times. “...what?”

“▒e’s o▒▓ of the H▓rbi▒gers, the Fatui—“

Th▒ phone call ends ▓bruptly. 

The phone ▓s taken fr▒m your hands. 

You friends—

Thoughts r▒ce into your m▒nd. 

D▓d you hear it c▓rrectly? Fat▒i? ▓re your fri▓nds in d▓ng▓r? Did you h░t yo░r he▓d? W░y is ▒v▒ryt▓▓ng f▓d▒ng?

Y▓u se▓ ▓ sp▓t of ░r░nge-br▒wn, bl▓░, ░nd g▓▓y m▓v▓ int░ y▒ur v░s▓▒n, ▓nd th░▒—

“Goodnight.”

You wake up surrounded by blankets and pillows. The bed you wake in is foreign. So is the harsh light that peaks out from between the cracks of the curtains. Your head continues to hurt, but after remembering the loud music from last night, you don’t blame it. 

Once the initial fear of an unknown place fades away, you can deduct what has happened.

This must be Ajax’s room…

The king-sized pencil post bed is filled with blankets and warmth. On each side is a nightstand with a lamp. The closest to you has a glass of water. The other is empty. 

When you step out of bed, you notice a sudden drop in temperature, although it’s not unexpected. Without any other sounds, the breeze coming in from the window is quite loud. Since there is no sign of Ajax in this room, you assume he must’ve slept on the couch, forgetting to close the window during the night as a result. 

A chill falls over you, but there is no harm in it. 

You’re grateful for Ajax allowing you to sleep in his bed. 

With your arms wrapped around you, you approach the window—feeling like closing the windows now might help Ajax later. But, when you open the curtains to close it for him, you’re met with something… astonishing. 

An abundance of white stretches in front of the house. It is undisturbed by footsteps from passing strangers or animals, creating a serene picture with the help of the treeline made from tall pines. Unlike what you remember, it seems as if you’re on the ground floor of the building, on an equal level to the world outside.

If you didn’t know better, you’d believe you were in the middle of a forest.

But… you aren’t. 

You turn around, moving to the window on the other side of the room. When you open the curtains, you’re met with the same sight. Snow and trees. Your eyes confirm this is real, but your mind can’t grasp how it could be. You move your head around, seeing if you can catch any clues in the corner of your vision.

There are no forests anywhere near the club. Not within walking distance, and only miles outside of the capital. 

Where are you?

Snowflakes catch on the outside of the window, and you decide to close it. 

Further in the room, you notice a set of wardrobes. Like the other furniture, the room seems divided into two. Two nightstands, two wardrobes, two windows…

After a few helpless spins and trying to grasp your mind around the current situation, you decide to test your luck by searching around. 

First, you try to open the wardrobe to the right. 

You twist the round door handle, but it doesn’t bulge. When you try the other, it opens. 

The inside seems normal. Ajax’s clothes are all neatly folded or hung. You see a variety of outfits for different occasions. Some are more casual, though you see suits as well. 

You lift a few piles of shirts, finding nothing out of the ordinary.

With a sigh, you close the door. 

A wardrobe full of clothes. So much for answers.

You turn back around and try the same for the nightstands. You find a single toothbrush, an unused brush, and a small mirror inside the nightstand on the right—the side you woke up from.

The other nightstand is more peculiar. 

Inside the drawer, you find a letter addressed to “Ajax”. The handwriting is clumsy as if a child had written it. When you turn it around, you see signs of ageing despite it being preserved well. 

Without any words, you deduct that this item is of great importance to him. 

With a hint of guilt, you put it back amongst the handful of other letters. 

Then, the only door left is the one leading outside. 

You cross the room, and once opened, you are met by a short hallway. The walls and floors are made from sturdy wood, like the bedroom you exited. The thought of being inside a cabin crosses your mind for a second. 

Quietly, you close the door behind you before continuing. 

Unlike what you remember, this house appears to be a one-floor building. There are no stairways leading down, and the place has many windows allowing you to see the forest surrounding you and bringing in natural light. 

When the hallway ends and connects to a large living room, you see Ajax on the couch asleep. 

And given your lack of knowledge on how you ended up here, you decide it’s lucky that your presence goes unnoticed. 

Your eyes graze over the living room. It is cosy—homey in many ways. Unlike the bookshelves you remember, these are filled with novels and stories from your childhood; fairytales, romance novels, fantasies, and nearly every other genre you can imagine. 

A large square carpet muffles your footsteps as you walk closer to the large table in the middle of the room. Thrown over the back of one of the chairs is your jacket, at its feet; your shoes, and in front of it on the table…

Your phone. 

You turn your head to Ajax. He hasn’t moved since you walked into the room. He is still asleep. 

Carefully you walk closer. 

Unlike what the situation makes you expect to have happened, your phone remains as you remember. It has a low battery percentage but can survive for at least a few more hours if you turn on saving mode. 

You open your messages. 

○ Has anyone heard from Y/n? ○ Not since last night. I heard someone had a run-in with the Fatui, what was that about? ○ Yeah, I heard that too. Can everyone reply ASAP?? ○ I told you to keep an eye out for each other. How do 4 people go missing in one night? ○ Do we file a report? Like, for missing people? ○ File a report??? To whom? The Fatui??

You scroll down, reaching the most recent message in the early morning. When you type a short sos, it goes undelivered. When you try again, you’re met with the same outcome.

There is no available internet. 

It seems you’re too far from civilisation to have access to a network. 

And finally, you try to call. 

The entire service has been cut. 

This makes you panic. Rightfully so. With a quick look out of the windows, you’re met with the sight of the forest taunting you. You’re in an unfamiliar place and your memories do not add up to the current situation.

You turn around to check up on Ajax.

“Your phone won’t work here.”

He sits upright on the couch. A strand of hair sticks out. He really had been asleep, and somehow, you had woken him up. 

He adds, “I’ve got cable TV, though.”

His voice isn’t laced with much of anything. There are no signs of exhaustion or sleep, no emotions either. 

He is clear of mind; as if everything is normal—expected.

You narrow your eyes and your mouth gapes open. A whisper falls out of you. “...what?”

Ajax lets his head hang. A troubled sigh escapes his lips before he stands up. 

In response, you take a step back. 

He stops for a moment. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The snappy tone in his voice puts you on edge. 

In turn, you react similarly. 

“Then what is going on? Where are we?” 

“I suppose you weren’t lying.” He circles the couch, coming into full view to face you. “You did forget me.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Sit with me, please.” Ajax sits back down, patting the place next to him as he looks back at you.

You move your eyes from him to the couch. There is no malice in his words. With no one to call out to, you feel as if the best move is to be compliant for as long as he remains kind. 

You sit on the place furthest away from him. 

“Do you know how hard it is to find someone without a name or information? Ever since I grew strong enough to search, for years… I’ve been trying to find you.”

A broken picture frame lies on the low table near the couch. On top of it, is a picture you vaguely remember from last night. 

Childe lets a chuckle escape his lips. He is desperate, clinging onto hope for you to believe him. “You can’t remember?”

“Ajax…” You shake your head, and he tries to cut you off. “I do not know you. I don’t know where I am or how I got here, but I would appreciate it if you’d bring me back, now.”

Childe scooches closer, leaning forward and reaching for you. “It’s fine, I’m not upset. I’m sure you’ll remember me if we talk a bit more. After all, last night was like all those years ago. Surely you remember how much fun we had as kids? During the winters when my family would visit your town, you’d always seek me out.”

You pull away, and a serious expression falls upon his face, something that’s unlike him—something foul. 

“Stop that. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Can you promise that?” You narrow your eyes at him before diverting your eyes. His eyes are too empty. Ajax has nothing to give, nothing but a mask made of lies. “I don’t know where I am or what happened, you refuse to tell me what’s going on, and I don’t trust you.”

“But you should.”

A cold silence falls into the room.

“I missed you. And I know you don’t, but you will.” 

He says it in such a gentle voice, you’re unsure what to make of it. 

Inch by inch, he comes closer until you’re sitting side by side. 

Ajax wraps his arms around you, and you let him.

He’s unable to bring any comfort when tears escape your eyes.

Confused. 

Scared. 

ㅤ

A broken picture frame lies on the low table near the couch. 

On top of it, is a picture of a young Ajax and a child with the same hair colour as you.

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡