#mine: if i don't watch over you. father's ghost will come back and murder me

[readyforthegarden]

When the Nightingale Sings - Masterlist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

Warnings: this fic will contain mentions of death, blood, brief depictions of murder, smut, angst, fluff.

A/N: I’d like to thank @joshsindigostreak for always believing in my AUs and helping me workshop them to find the plot, and a big huge thank you to @earthlysorrows for helping me write through all my brain funks and beta-reading/editing. I truly don’t know what I would do without you!! 💖

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

“Does the prince not charm you?” Danny asked, the firelight dancing across his tanned skin. You bristled slightly, your memory pouring through the letters you had exchanged with the monarch. 

“He,” you paused, finding the right words. “He is not as verbose when it comes to the written word as I would like.” Danny smirked, knowing the rumors the prince was a dud were proving themselves true. 

“What would you want him to write?” Taking a sip of your ale, you almost snorted into the pint glass. 

“Anything other than the acres of land I lived on or how the castle in Farrynden is one of the best in the world.” you made a face, rolling your eyes. “I once wrote him a letter, telling him that thinking of our upcoming nuptials had my bosoms heaving.” 

“And what was his response?” Danny asked softly.

“His response was to ask if my father had any cattle.” Danny’s smirk fell, his eyes darting over you. His iris's darkened, his tongue licking his lips before he spoke again.

“If you had written me a letter about your heaving bosoms I would write you one back telling you all the ways I would touch them, tease them.” your cheeks reddened as your breath caught in your throat, watching as Danny leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose nearly bumping yours. Feeling a ghost of his breath upon your lips, your eyes fluttered shut, heart pounding calling to him to move just a few more inches so his lips would touch yours.

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @sammykiszkamyass @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr

@musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf @spark-my-nature @scorpiosunsammy @theindigostre4k @jjwasneverhere @couldbefalling @peaceloveunitygvf @wrldabomination @gretavfreaky @kakejiszkas @brujamagik

[danystargaryens]

[bryan360]

Here’s my note before I’ll get started….

(DON’T YOU EVER COPY FROM MINE OR MY FRIEND’S WORK, CHARACTERS, AND STUFF IF ONE OF YOU ARE IMPOSTERS WHO HAD HABITS OF PLAGIARISM! I WILL BLOCK YOU FROM MY BLOG IF I SEE YOUR POST WITH MINE OR MY FRIEND’S ORIGINAL WORK BEING EDITED ALL OVER! I’LL EVEN SHARE IT ONTO MY BLOG SO IF EVERYONE WILL SEE THAT YOU TRYING TO COPY MINE OR MY FRIEND’S THINGS FOR NO GOOD REASON WHATSOEVER! That will be all….I mean it.)

🎃Inktober of 2022 - Day 31: Halloween Time!! 👻🎃

🇵🇷Me: This is it, people! It's been a long ride through October of 2022; especially going around my previous Inktober art I ever wanted to get it all than last year. However due to some issues that I would've think hard enough if I'll try again for next year. What that being said though, I really did good back there when it comes to making Inktober art for my mains to having Brown facing the apocalypse. For today's Inktober art will be the last unfortunately, but at least hoping to everyone can enjoy this with the Rabbits family. Sure wish Choco would join along as well if it wasn't the fact he'll be busy doing slaying demons. Don't worry, he'll be back before theis Halloween party is over. For the meanwhile though, at least there's one family member that she deserved to be here for this year's Halloween.

🐰🎤Windy: How about trying to keep an eye on my family with this crystal ball I can use? After all, witches usually use things in movies and books. Though as a Scarlet Witch from Marvel is a bit weird, isn't it. Regardless, this is what I'm going for Halloween! 😊

🐰📚🍌Scottie: You sure do, sweetie. This is something when you watching WandaVision from Disney+, isn't it? Still looks good on your classic comic version of her before MCU's redesign.

🐰🎤Windy: Thanks, honey. If only I would've say the same feeling if you haven't swinging that axe of yours; which you did during Day 18 where you killed that rabbit person?!

🐰📚🍌Scottie: *Gulp* 😨

🐰🎤Windy: Nah, I'm just checking with you that you'd axed was an actual tall size version of the candy rabbit; which I also did the spell with carrot flavor filling. So yeah. 😅

🐰📚🍌Scottie: Wait, what?! *in thoughts* I though myself that I went crazy when it keeps chasing me.

🇵🇷Me: An unexpected twist, huh? This is something I would to address for Day 18 when making Scottie as a crazed father in the first place. I mean not because I did this for harsh things at least. *ahem* So umm...how's your kids doing?

🐰🎤Windy: Looks like they having a blast to celebrate this year's Halloween; for while celebrate CN's 30th Anniversary which was on the first day. It was sweet for having them dress like this.

🐰📚🍌Scottie: Indeed they are. Say let's getting into a fun here to celebrate our family Halloween, shall we? As long you don't need to cast more for living candy rabbit people, huh?

🐰🎤Windy: I'll do the same thing as you are. Seriously, honey. We don't let our kids seeing this thing bleeding.

🐰📚🍌Scottie: Right....secret sealed. Anyways you guys, have a good Happy Halloween this year! 😅👋

🐰🎤Windy: Indeed! Happy Halloween of 2022 to all! 🎃👋

🇵🇷Me: By the way, here's my candy that I got for this month of October; although it happens from past weeks that my mom and my sister give me. Still just in case if I won't be getting some more candy for today's Halloween.

Windy (as the Scarlet Witch), Scottie (as Jack Torrence), Maxwell (as K.O.), May (as Tulip Olsen), and Sam (as Uncle Grandpa) created by me; BryanVelasquez87 (Bryan360)

Previous Inktober Posts of 2022:

Day 1: ⚫️⚪️Cartoons - Link Here

Day 2: 🎃Pumpkins - Link Here

Day 3: 👨‍⚕️Doctor - Link Here

Day 4: 💀Death - Link Here

Day 5: 🐱Cat - Link Here

Day 6: 🦇Bats - Link Here

Day 7: 😈Devil - Link Here

Day 8: 🌳Forest - Link Here

Day 9: 🧙‍♀️Witch - Link Here

Day 10: 🔪Murder - Link Here

Day 11: 🔴🐻Red - Link Here

Day 12: 🧸🪆Playtime - Link Here

Day 13: 🥚Eggs - Link Here

Day 14: 👻 Ghosts - Link Here

Day 15: 🖼 Painting - Link Here

Day 16: 🛸 Invasion - Link Here

Day 17: 🍁Leaves - Link Here

Day 18: 👨‍💼Father - Link Here

Day 19: ⬛️Dark - Link Here

Day 20: 🧙‍♂️Wizard - Link Here

Day 21: 😵‍💫Possessed - Link Here

Day 22: 🌄Dawn - Link Here

Day 23: 🔍 Mystery - Link Here

Day24: 👨‍🍳 Chef - Link Here

Day 25: 🤢 Ugly - Link Here

Day 26: 🐺 Wolves - Link Here

Day 27: 🩻 Skeletons - Link Here

Day 28: 🍬 Candy - Link Here

Day 29: 📕 Falls - Link Here

Day 30: A̴̢̤͎̅͂̕p̶̳͚͇̐͛͋̄ǒ̷͉̮c̴̼̝̺̑ä̴̡̙̞̭́l̷̻̀̐̐ÿ̵̨̟̰́̈́p̸̹̓̇s̵̤͚͊̈́̏ḛ̸̮̙̀̀ - Link Here

Tagged: @murumokirby360 @carmenramcat @alexander1301

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!reader- Part V

*The GIF is not mine. All rights to the owner*

Part IV

Summary: While you face a relationship dilemma, you must help Barry stop The Mist from coming after your adoptive father. Based on 1x03

Warnings: None

***

You submerged your face in the water on your hands. The coolness temporarily eased the sting in your eyes. You turn off the faucets, you grab some tissues and dab them on your face to dry. You stared at yourself in the mirror; you were starting to look fine. The puffiness of your eyes ease, your eyes are still bloodshot red, but it was better.

It had been hours since that fight happened, and you have washed your face for the hundredth time today. Each time you think about it, you cry despite trying hard not to, and lucky you, it's all you can think about.

You reapplied your lipstick and mascara, and left the restroom. You walked down the hallway to come back to the cortex. You rounded a corner, but your feet quickly halted when a figure popped up to avoid collision.

It was him. You both froze, staring at each other. He could have swore, he saw a flicker of hurt and coldness in your eyes, before you lowered your head down when his stare became intense. This wasn't the first you crossed paths today. It's his building and you work here, though it didn't mean it got easier. It's always awkward and uneasy.

He didn't speak or move, so you figured you would be the one who needs to do it.

"Excuse me," you whispered, walking ahead passing by him.

"Y/N, wait." You stopped in your tracks and formed a fist. Although you didn't turn around. "We need to talk,"

"We already did. There's no need to further discuss it and make it worse." You didn't dare let him respond, and walked away rapidly away from him, not skipping a beat until you reached the cortex.

You quickly took a seat beside Cisco and buried your head on the computer, typing as you finished a report. Your thoughts ran, a sudden furious rage boiling in your veins. You couldn't believe how ironic it is that earlier he didn't want to talk about it, and now he does. It just infuriates you so hard, so hard and murder him with your bare hands.

"Woah, woah, you okay?" Cisco's voice pulled you out of your spiral.

You paused, fingertips ghosting the keyboard. You didn't even realize you were typing audibly, angrily. "Yeah. Just itching to get our meta," you said.

"Okay. Whatever you say," he replied, obviously suspicious and not an ounce convinced. None of them were if you're being honest. Especially Barry. He was very concerned, but it occurred to him that this might be regarding your mystery boyfriend, so he reluctantly kept his distance.

Wells came back. You can feel his eyes boring at you. You pretended to be oblivious, but it bothered you. Deeply.

Abruptly, a ping coming from the computer echoed in the room. It was the analysis on the toxin. Cisco was quick to call Barry and Caitlin, who God knows where to come to the cortex immediately.

They arrived moments later.

"Yo, check this out."

You all huddled up in front of the TV, waiting for someone to explain the result.

"We have identified the toxin," Wells said, clicking the screen of his tablet. The analysis results popped up on the screen.

"Hydrogen Cyanide?" Barry's brows furrowed.

"Well, what's interesting is what mixed in with the cyanide— a sedative," he added.

Your head cocked to the side, confused more than ever. You're no Caitlin, but that sounded odd. Never in your life have you heard those chemical compounds being mixed before— hell, even in being in the same sentence.

You turned to Barry to ask. His demeanor changed from being in serious thought to his eyes lighting up in recognition. A hand flew to his forehead, turning to Caitlin.

"The night of the explosion— find out if anyone was executed," he ordered.

Caitlin nodded and headed to the nearest computer.

"Why?" Wells asked, beating you to it.

"That sedative was given to criminals on death row before they go into the gas chamber, and breathe in cyanide," he explained.

That was one hell of a fact.

"There was someone executed— Kyle Nimbus," Caitlin informed.

A tab of his background and records popped up. And yup, he does look like someone crazy. Bald, pale skin, huge bags under his eyes. Just add a crooked smile and he could be the missing son of the Grinch and Penguin.

"That's him," Barry confirmed.

"He was a hit man for the Darbinyan crime family. They turned on him and testified. Judge Teresa Howard was the judge at his trial. She sentenced him to death."

It makes sense why he was hell bent on killing these people. The irony of his life though. Karma really is a bitch.

"He said there's one more on his list. Check the arrest records; who caught him, that could be his next attack," he walked towards her, and you trailed after him, dumbfounded.

There was too much information all at once, and Barry's the only one who's putting two and two together as fast as he runs.

You watched as Caitlin's eyes widened in horror. Her face blanched, glancing up at you and Barry, as if she had seen a ghost. It made you a little worried and anxious. The pit of your stomach knotting, as you swallowed thickly. Whatever information she got a hold of isn't good.

"Barry, the lead detective..."

Your heart dropped. Your mind quickly thinks of one person: Joe. Your thoughts ran wildly. You refused to believe it's him.

"Cait, who is it?" You asked, shakily.

"It's Joe."

You let out a gasp, panic surged through you. It felt like the world collapsed, your worry escalating into another level.

Next thing you knew, Barry was on his cell, both of you pacing back and forth, while he tried to reach Joe. Each time he took his phone off his ear, not able to reach him, he grew more frustrated. And so were you.

"He's not answering,"

"Call Eddie, maybe he knows," you suggested.

He took your advice and dialled him. You held your breath, anxiously waiting for the end of the ringing noise from Barry's phone.

"Eddie!" You immediately moved to Barry's side. "Hey, do you know where Joe went? He's not picking up his cell."

You placed your ears near and listened carefully. He paused, then said he didn't know.

"Eddie, it's really important I speak to him. I need to know where he went." Barry pleaded, evidently desperate.

Eddie must have picked it up. You heard an audible sigh from him through the phone. Eddie said he's in Iron Heights. That must have been why he's not picking up.

"Thanks, Eddie." Barry ended the call, and went to the team. "He's in Iron Heights, he's in Iron Heights because of me,"

Your brows drew together. If the toxins results didn't make sense, so is Barry right now. "What? Why?"

"I'll explain later," he said, running off to Caitlin.

She developed an antidote from the toxin, in case Barry didn't make it in time to stop Nimbus. Barry put on his suit, and faster than a blink of eye, he sped off, leaving a red streak of lights behind and a gust of strong wind blowing through your hair.

You took a seat and behind a computer to do your designated job. You pray to God Barry gets there before Nimbus does.

"Barry, I pulled up the specs on Iron Heights prison with maximum security, but I think I can talk you through breaking in there," he said, as he took a seat beside you.

You chortled, shaking your head. Your brother is probably doing the same thing right now. Cisco looked at you confused and a little offended.

"No bother. I've been figuring out how to break in that place since I was 11,"

Damn right he was. He used to get in trouble with Joe because of that, and you'll get a warning to think twice before pulling the same stunt. Barry still continuously, persistently did it. Eventually, he got older and no one has to call Joe about a minor trying to sneak in to see his Dad.

In a snap, it dawned on you. That's what Barry meant. Your Dad was the reason Joe was in Iron Heights. As to why, you wondered. Joe never once visited the man; he strongly believes that your Dad killed your Mom, it doesn't make sense why he would want to see him after all those years.

Your thoughts were pushed in the back of your mind, seeing Barry was inside the prison. You all cowered in silence, anxiety prickling your very existence. Your heart beating fast like you ran a hundred miles, you fingers were trembling. You took them off the keyboard, and hid them under the desk, clenching and unclenching it repeatedly.

You tried to keep it together, itching to hear Barry's voice, saying Joe's fine. You already lost your parents, you can't lose another one.

You felt a warm, large hand on your formed fist, fingers wrapping it securely with a squeeze. Your head shot up to the man in glasses beside you, stunned. Not that you just had the biggest fight ages ago, but your colleagues are literally sandwiching the two of you.

He gave a soft, assuring smile. And you appreciated it deeply. You opened your palm, intertwining your fingers with his. The differences were set aside for a moment, as you hold on to him for dear life.

"Joe's stable," Barry spoke.

The weight on your chest was lifted off. You relaxed for a second only to be reminded that there's still a meta-human on the loose that desperately needs some ass-kicking.

According to Barry, Nimbus transformed into a mist again, and Caitlin advised him to stay away, do not breathe him I'm. As weird as that sounds, it was the only way to avoid inhaling cyanide, and he might not be so lucky again.

But it was very obvious that it wasn't easy; the man is literally air.

"Guys, I don't think this is helping me,"

"You can't fight him, Barry. Just..." Caitlin paused to think. "...keep him coming at you, that should sap his strength."

Wells nodded in agreement. "Yes. Gas is the least stable form of matter— this meta-human will not be able to stay in this mist form, his particles will need to reform."

Barry ran. He ran farther and farther away from the prison. He takes quick stops, before running again.

Your eyes peered over to Caitlin's computer to check on his vitals. His heart rate elevated a bit, but everything was fine. Although he wasn't updating or saying anything it's starting to worry you.

Wells, clearly worried, leaned over and grabbed the mic. "Barry?" He called him. There was only silence on the other end. "Barry?" He called again, louder and firmer.

"We win,"

You all sighed with relief. Your eyes fluttered close, as you lean back into your seat and roll your head back. You squeezed him, you looked at him as a grateful smile spread across your face.

Barry brought Nimbus to S.T.A.R Labs, and left to go to the hospital. You stayed behind to see how well you did with makeshift prison, and get some satisfaction by watching him go crazy to find a way out.

You stood by the entrance of the pipeline with the team, watching the door slide down in front of a very angry Kyle Nimbus, pounding on the glass, constantly morphing into gas to escape his cell. The dummy didn't actually think you'd seal it.

"So, we just have to get used to working above a makeshift prison," Caitlin commented.

"Yup," you replied.

It's surreal. You can't still quite grasp the fact that you built a prison, and it's weird to see someone actually imprisoned inside. He deserved it, yes, but it's still weird.

Everyone turned to shuffle back to the cortex. Cisco pulled Caitlin aside. It looks like they have something to talk about, and by the look on Cisco's face, it's probably serious.

Your eyes flickered to Wells, who was surprisingly staring at you too. You locked eyes, realizing things had wind down— Nimbus is apprehended, and no meta-human to worry about for the time being. You don't know what's going to happen, where you both stand; if the relationship still exists, but one thing is for certain: it was time to address it and deal with it.

He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to go outside, before leaving the room.

You followed him, trailing behind him in the hallway. You dreaded every step you took, you heart racing fast under your ribs, and for many times today, your stomach churned, nervous.

You didn't know where he was leading you. You never really wandered around this area. The hallway is like a never ending maze; just no twist and turns. It was long and quiet and dark. If he was some dude, you would think that he's luring you to kill you.

You were about to ask him where you both were going, but he stopped. You both stood in front of a door. Nothing special about it, just a door. He twisted the knob and opened it. He took a step aside to let you in first and you obliged.

The lights automatically turned on, shedding lights on the room contents. Shelves containing boxes and some other covered things lined up across the room. It's another storage room. The dust isn't disgustingly obvious yet, but it hasn't been touched in a while. Probably since last year.

"We have another storage room?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. This was used when we were building the accelerator," he explained, closing the door behind him.

This is not the most ideal place to talk, but it's secluded and quiet and hidden. Given the fight earlier, all those three are a must.

You spun around to him, folding your arms, awkwardly waiting for him to speak first.

"So?" He started.

"So?"

He exhaled sharply, pursing his lips. "I thought about what you said, and..." He trailed off. A lump forming in your and you gulped in anticipation, watching him be lost for words. It was like those heart stopping moments in class just before your teacher passed your papers, scared of what your mark would be, except on this one, there's only two of you. This would not just affect the future, but potentially break your heart.

He stammered. " I don't— I don't want to lose you. I love you and you were right." Your mouth went dry. You were rendered speechless. Not a single word you could utter, staring at him in shock. You didn't expect that one. Scared that might not convince you, he added, "I mean it. I couldn't risk losing you."

Emotions barrelling through you. You kept it together, not wanting to broke down immediately.

"What about the press?"

"They'll leave us alone eventually," he answered.

"Your haters?"

He chuckled lightly. "They'll forget about it."

"And Joe?" The smile on his face faded, aware of the seriousness of that name.

"We'll deal with it. But I'm pretty sure he'll be happy for you,"

You lowered your head, looking down at your feet.

"Y/N?"

You glanced up, your demeanor stern as you looked into his eyes. "Are you sure? You might be just saying this right now, but you might regret—"

"The only thing I will regret is letting you walk away. I lost a lot of things last year, and I don't want you to be part of it. You mean so much to me,"

Your heart was cracked open. You were in awe of his declaration. Today was a tough one, and it will be on some days, but you certainly knew you would be a damn fool to let him go.

Although, it doesn't hurt to rile him up a bit. You maintain a stoic expression for a period of time, which ended very soon because you couldn't help it anymore.

"Damn it," you hissed.

You went to him, cupped his cheek and pulled his lips to yours. He responded quickly. His lips move passionately against yours, pouring all emotions into the kiss. Your stomach flutters in realization how vulnerable and raw this moment is. It was like he's opening up and he didn't have to say anything. Everything disappeared for a while. He clutched your arm, pressing you closer to this warmth.

You pulled away reluctantly, panting. You leaned your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whispered to him.

"I love you too,"

He drew closer to kiss you again, but you withdrew. You gritted your teeth, looking at him nervously.

"I think we should tell them tonight,"

***

Uh Oh. How do you think they'll react?

Anyway, I'd appreciate if you share this and give it love. Thanks!

Part VI

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part ten Word count: ±3400 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part ten summary: Zoë and the Winchesters face the aftermath of losing a victim. Especially the huntress takes it hard, and the reason soon surfaces. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls! Gif isn’t mine. If you are the creator or know who made it, please tell me so I can credit you.

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     The black Harley Davidson rolls into the parking lot of the Hampton Inn, followed by the Chevrolet Impala. Zoë hasn’t said a word to Sam since she found Taylor at the Dawlson home. Both of them gave a statement to the local police and managed to talk their way out of an interrogation at the department, Zoë continuing her role as agent Sharon Evans. Without missing a beat, Sam improvised and said he was her partner. They kept the cops in the dark, hoping they will not be making their ghost hunt more difficult than it already is.

     Sam also talked to Jeff Dawlson. The poor guy was a mess, but the widower made clear that he was certain that this wasn’t just some ordinary murder. The silence, the windows that didn’t break, the door that didn’t open. He called it a force, something he couldn’t possibly begin to explain. Even for a skeptic down to earth guy like Jeff, this was obviously not from their world. So Sam told him everything about Laura, all that they know. Jeff took it quite well, even thanked them for their attempt to save his wife, but he was devastated, never to be the same.

     Quiet, Zoë gets off her bike, takes her laptop case out of the saddlebag and strolls to the entrance. She’s glad no one stole her Macbook when she left it at the terras, the database as valuable to her as John’s journal is to the boys.      Sam follows her, watching the huntress as she makes her way to room seventeen; not a single remark has left her lips, yet she keeps a straight face. People passing by don’t notice anything about the strong woman, but Sam can only imagine that this is messing with her.

     The huntress slips the key card through the lock and opens the door. As she expected, Dean is obviously present. A KFC bag and several paper wrappings plus an empty bucket that once contained fried chicken are scattered on the bedspread, loud music is blaring on the radio. Dean, who is freshening up in the bathroom, apparently didn’t hear them come in, because he keeps singing along with the song.

“There’s a lot of people sayin' we'd be better off dead. Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them. So I try to forget it, any way I can. Keep on rockin' in the free world!”, he belts out.

     His younger brother halts and raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t laugh or chuckle; his brother’s poor vocal skills would have been amusing if the circumstances were different.      Zoë doesn’t appreciate his singing either and she slams her fist on the bathroom door. “Hey, Neil Young! Shut your piehole, will ya?”      They hear a glass breaking on the bathroom floor and Zoë rolls her eyes while sighing deeply. Wonderful.      “Fuck,” Dean curses softly, then sets up a voice loud enough for Zoë to hear it. “Sorry!”

     Without responding she walks away from the door and turns down the volume of the radio completely, allowing a deadly silence to hover the room. As Sam picks up the paper wrappings, Dean pops his head around the corner.      “What the hell are you doing here?” he asks them both, when he notices his brother by the door.      “I could ask you the same thing,” Sam returns.      “I let him break in,” Zoë says before Dean can answer.      “Didn’t expect you two to be back anytime soon.” He walks out of the bathroom, buttoning his white shirt, since he doesn’t have a change of clothes. “The shower is amazing, by the way. It’s so big and it has this fucking awesome massage setting--”      “Something occurred at the Dawlsons,” Sam interrupts.

     His older brother halts and looks from Sam to Zoë, who sat down on the bed, staring at nothing in particular, her gaze blank.      She can feel his unspoken question and decides to answer. “She’s dead.”      Dean expected something like that when he sensed the mood, but it still comes as a shock. He needs a few seconds to collect his thoughts.      “Dead as in hit-by-a-car-dead or killed-by-a-ghost-dead?” he asks carefully.

     A depressing quietness remains between the hunters. Zoë doesn’t reply; words aren’t necessary. When her eyes meet his, Dean knows enough. The oldest of the brothers breathes out with a sigh and looks away, shaking his head; damn it.      “Did you see Laura?” he wonders.      “We did,” Sam responds on Zoë’s behalf. “We tried to stop her.”      Dean frowns at that. “How did you know Laura was inside the house? So far no one witnessed her actual attack, right?”      “I had a vision,” Sam explains.

     Both Zoë and Dean look up at him, stunned by his statement. Zoë is well aware Sam had one. But what she didn’t know is that Sam told his brother about his ability, which she presumes, as he just blurted it out like that.      Dean however, bites down the mixture of concern and frustration. He tries to ignore the fact his brother shared this information in the presence of the huntress, which they only met a couple of days ago.  Filing it under either carelessness, he addresses the other issue: since when does Sam have these visions when he’s awake? “You fell asleep or something’?”      “No, this was the first time he had one during the day,” Zoë answers before Sam does.

      The comment triggers Dean to snap his head towards her, unpleasantly surprised to learn she’s all up to date with Sam’s powers. Agitated, he glares at his brother.      “You told her?!” he exclaims.      “Yeah, so? We hunt together, so what’s the big deal?” Sam returns defensively.      “You wanna know what the big deal is? If this goes public amongst hunters, some of them might seriously keep an eye on you, Sam!” his brother snaps.      Zoë tries to cool the looming clash. “It’s safe with me, Dean.”      “That’s not the fucking point!” He counters angrily, focusing on the huntress. “He doesn’t realize how dangerous this could be!”      Sam reminds him of his presence. “Don’t talk like I’m not even here, Dean.”

Zoë’s not sure where it’s coming from, but she has the sudden urge to defend Sam. She can relate with the youngest Winchester, she’s going through the same after all. Dean has no idea what these special abilities feel like, how painful and confusing they are, how they wreck their mind. He’s not the one experiencing them. Who the hell does he think he is to tell Sam how to handle this?      “Like you have a clue what’s going on,” she jumps in. “I think hunters are the last ones on earth you should worry about.”      Dean narrows his eyes at her, reading into her words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”      “Haven’t you wondered where this is coming from?” she looks up at him, waiting for an answer. “Because I for one have never encountered a human being with supernatural powers. Have you?”

     Silence. It might not have yet occurred to Dean, though, but Sam and Zoë have thought of it constantly. People, normal, random people, shouldn’t be having visions, period. Zoë is right; It’s not normal, it’s not human.

     Dean however, decides to ignore her notification and points his finger at his younger brother in the way a father would do to his son. “You shut up about this,” he warns. “If you wanna talk about it, talk to me. If you share this with anyone else--”      “Don’t you treat me like you’re Dad!” Sam counters.      Zoë rolls her eyes the moment John is mentioned. She turns to the window with her hands placed firmly on her slender waist.      “I am responsible for you and I am the one who has to drag your ass out of trouble when you have God knows what on your tail because of this freaky stuff. As long as Dad ain’t around, I’m gonna talk to you like that. Suck it up!” Dean returns sternly.      Sam huffs and grinds his teeth. He hates, absolutely hates it when he’s treated like a child. It doesn’t matter if he’s talked down on by Dad or Dean; he can’t stand it. He's twenty-two for Christ's sake!      “No. This is my life, my problem. I’m not gonna listen to you,” Sam sneers, cynically.      Furiously, Dean raises his voice. “Yes, you are!!”      “Would you two SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”

     Both brothers seize their argument and look at Zoë, who turned around to face then. Enraged, she glares at them, her penetrating eyes darting from one to the other, disgusted by their behavior.      “How old are you? Fucking ten?!” she asks resentfully. “People are dying and you two are actually arguing over who’s boss and who’s not?!”      Sam gulps; she has a point. This is senseless; because both Dean and Sam know that neither of them are willing to admit their wrong. Even Dean seems to be ashamed, his green eyes breaking away from Zoë’s penetrating stare.      “I’m gonna be honest with you two. If you don’t get along, that’s your problem, but you’re no good to me if you don’t function together,” she continues, gritting her teeth in frustration. “An innocent just died, Goddamnit!”

     They could hear a pin drop in the spacious hotel room. Having enough of the Winchesters’ stupidity, Zoë turns her back on them and saunters to the end of the room. She sits down on the bed, sniffing, then she wipes her nose. 

Sam and Dean exchange a look, both noticing how much this is bothering her. So far the huntress seems to be a lot more careless about cases; she’s more the shoot-to-thrill type. She was willing to leave this case in her rear view mirror after all.      Dean  carefully attempts to find out what’s really going on with the fellow hunter. “What’s wrong, Zo?”

     Instead of answering, she just shakes her head. Avoiding their questioning eyes, Zoë folds her hands together and rests her elbows on her knees. For a long while she doesn’t speak, but then she starts to open up, just a little bit.      “I was supposed to watch her,” she claims. “Yet I was goofing around and bored, while she got slaughtered.”      “This isn’t your fault,” Sam replies immediately, trying to take away the guilt.      “It is.” Her piercing gaze moves to meet his. “I should have known, I should have drawn a conclusion from the first two killings, but I didn’t.”      “Hey, we didn’t see this coming either,” Dean brings to mind.      “It doesn’t matter. Someone lost their life again while I could’ve prevented it,” she states, her voice fragile now.

     Sam furrows his brow, confused. Again? What does she mean? With a questioning look, he glances over at Dean and is surprised by what he sees. Compassion, compassion for Zoë. He realizes Dean might know more about her past, after all, he and Dad worked her case and casted out the demon that possessed her. Dean wasn't in a sharing mood when his younger brother requested more details about what happened back then. Sam thought he didn't know more and that their dad kept him in the dark, but now he begins to realize that he simply didn't want to elaborate on it. Is it not his place to tell? Or did that hunt go wrong?

     Dean offers some reassuring words, trying to convince her. “Zo, what happened back then was out of your hands.”      “Don’t go there,” she warns.      “You shouldn’t still be blaming yourself for that, nor should you feel guilty about today,” he presses.      “I said: Don’t. Go. There,” Zoë repeats, glaring over her shoulder.      Sam glances from one to the other, disorientated, unable to follow the conversation. The oldest of the Winchester brothers isn’t spooked by the threat, however.      “Maybe you should step away from the case,” he suggests.      “What?!” she cries out, perplexed.      “It’s obvious that you’re emotional about this, Zo,” he starts to explain, deliberately getting under her skin.      “Emotional?!” She scoffs, fury in her eyes, pressing her clenched fist in the mattress. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to give a fuck about people dying? My mistake!”      “I’m just saying that maybe you should let us take care of this one,” he explains.

     He might say so, but Dean doesn’t want her to quit. What he does want, is to trigger her. He used the same technique on his brother before and it worked like a charm, it seems like it might just work on the huntress as well. He can sense her blood beginning to boil as she rises to her feet; he really pissed her off this time.      “Are you fucking serious right now?! I don’t quit on cases, I don’t take the easy way out!” she yells, pointing at her chest.      “You were gonna before you allowed us to help you. So tell me why the hell you’re so worked up all of a sudden,” he bounces back.      “No!” Zoë shouts outrageously, her voice hitting a higher tone than she anticipated. “I don’t wanna talk about it!”      “It’s been over four years, Zoë. It’s about damn time you talk about it. This isn’t healthy,” Dean pressures.      “I just can’t, okay?”

     Her voice is suddenly softer now as it breaks, almost begging him to stop. She averts her gaze quickly, but Sam could see her eyes glister. Slowly, he starts to get the idea of what happened back then, remembering the first file in her database, the one consisting of the demon that possessed her.      “Zoë, if this has something to do with that Diligo Vesco demon...” he carefully starts off. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t on you.”      “My hands--” She holds them up in front of her. “- and his blood all over them. Now don’t you tell me it wasn’t me.”

     Confused, Sam cocks his head from Zoë to Dean, who watches the woman with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His stance is still defensive, but his eyes tell a different story, one of empathy.      When the huntress spots the confused expression on Sam’s face and turns to Dean as well. “You didn’t tell him?”      “I didn’t. Wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that,” he says.

     With a deep breath, she prepares to say the words that bring her so much pain. Words that remind her of that dreadful day, the moment that everything got screwed to hell. Her heartbeat has sped up throughout the conversation, first by anger, but now that she has to admit out loud what went down four years, four months and five days ago, she feels like it’s about to jump out of her chest. A panic attack is prevented when she breathes in through her nose slowly and lets the air flow from her mouth again, repeating it once more while closing her eyes. Then she looks up at Sam and swallows back the tears. She can’t break, she never has and she won’t now. With a trembling voice, she speaks up.

      “When I was possessed, I killed my dad.”

      Sam’s jaw almost drops to the ground. For a moment he just stares at her, his eyes large, unable to form words. Poor, poor girl. Losing a parent is one thing, but she experienced her father’s murder like she was the one killing. How do you get over that?      And just like that, he sees Zoë in a totally different light. Her attitude makes more sense, her eagerness to hunt, her reluctance to new friendships. She lost one of the most important people in her life, no wonder she shut herself in.

     Both boys watch her struggle, there’s not much they can do to make her feel better. She walks over to the window and rubs her face. The brothers can’t see the tears run down her cheek, but they know she turned away to prevent them from witnessing her sorrow. She can’t show her weakness, not to them, not to anyone.

     Dean notices something about her that he recognizes in himself. The huntress is unable to express how she feels, simply because it hurts too much. It’s easier to stuff it away and sweep it under the rug, hoping that way it doesn’t have to be dealt with, that the pain will slowly fade away over time. But let’s be fair; it doesn’t.

     Zoë sighs deeply and takes heart, turning back to them when the tears have stopped falling.      “We shouldn’t be talking about me, guys. Our ghost is getting more violent by the hour. We need to stop this,” she reminds them.      Sam glances at his brother and their eyes meet. He knows she’s avoiding the subject, but they have to admit there is truth in her words. Laura might be killing someone right now, especially since Sam left the Shire residence unattended. They decide to give it a rest.

     “You’re right, let’s get our head back in the game. I’m gonna get the doctor to talk, I won’t take no for an answer.” He grabs his tie from the chair and folds it around his collar as he looks up at Sam, awaiting a follow up from his younger brother.      “I’ll check on the Shires and keep you guys in the loop,” Sam suggests.      “Sounds good to me. Talk to them too, fire it up a little. Maybe they know more about this. We need more intel to wrap this one up and we need it fast,” Zoë urges, checking her watch and startled to see that it’s almost five o’ clock.      “Take the car. I’ll walk, it’s just a block away,” Dean nods at the car keys on the drawer, while struggling with his tie.      “C’mere,” Zoë beckons him to edge closer and takes Dean’s tie in her hands.      Skillfully, she redoes it, her hands moving swiftly. Dean can’t help to take in her pretty face. Her makeup has run down a little, it emphasizes her frame of mind. Focused on her task at hand, she avoids his unraveling eyes.

     “Should I tell them the truth?” Sam proposes.      “Not yet,” she tightens Dean’s tie and dares to look up at him. “You try to speak with the doctor first. We're sure he actually knows something, but we aren’t certain about the Shire family. We don’t want to spook them.”      “Okay, let’s go then.” Dean picks up his suit jacket and heads for the door.      Sam hesitates in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder at the young woman. “What are you gonna do?”       “I’m gonna look into Laura, see who she was close to. I can imagine the kid would’ve tried to stay out of that toxic household as much as she could, maybe she stayed over with friends a lot. Could lead to her next victim,” she explains.      “We’ll get her, Zo,” Dean assures.      “Hell, we will. Taylor was the last one killed by Laura Shire,” she states determined.

      Just after she pronounces those words, the door slams and locks. Surprised, Zoë stares at the doorknob, which felt like it was just ripped from her hand. As she slowly turns around, she feels chills running down her spine, the tingling sensation way too familiar. The bathroom light starts to flicker, then the faucet of the sink turns, water splattering on the porcelain. Suddenly the TV flips on, but all broadcasts a disorted image and static noise. She exhales clouds of warm air, her breath condensed, the temperature suddenly changing. It turns ice cold in the room.

      Zoë gulps. “Oh, fuck.”

      Seems like she doesn’t have to search very long to find Laura’s next victim; it’s her. Anxiously, Zoë searches the room for something iron, but then suddenly the image of the ten year old girl appears in the corner. Her blonde hair looks darkened, her pupils hazed over with white. The nightgown she was wearing the night she was killed is stained with blood. Then her eyes sink deep into their sockets, leaving gaping black holes in her small skull, before her form flickers and suddenly stands right before the huntress. Without an iron forged weapon or anything to use in the huntress’ defence, Zoë stares at the poltergeist for a brief second. This is it; she’s fucked. Even though she realizes the boys can’t hear her, she cries out one of their names at the top of her lungs.

  “SAM!!!”              

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).    

[danystargaryens]

A HUG A DAY: [4/∞] ♡Jon & Sansa [Game of Thrones: 6.04]