#putting that in the tags for feedback reasons if youd like to give your two cents

[ari-zonia]

For Arcana Swaps, how do people generally deal with the character-specific Personas?

Do you keep them linked with their Arcana, or their owners?

Like, with Magician!Rise, would she get Jiraiya? Or keep Himiko? In either case does the Persona get a redesign, or just stick with the original?

I have a reason to go either way, mostly because I don't think I've EVER seen Persona redesigns for Arcana Swaps

[i4z-0892-il]

Monster House 3

Summary: Posing as Newlyweds Sam and Y/n set out to investigate what’s killing the visitors of a secluded Inn, and attempt to keep their working relationship professional.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word count: 6100 Oops, my keyboard slipped

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, suggestive themes, language

A/N:  TROPES. 

Buy Sam’s Scent Here from @scentsfromthebunker (And damn does it smell goooooood)

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

After following the main trail for nearly half a mile it was quickly decided that the most effective course of action would be to get off the path. Neither of you were exactly sure what you were looking for, but you could both agree that whatever it was you weren’t going to find it sitting like a silver platter on a main path. However, actually stepping off of it and wandering aimlessly through the dense forest surrounding you was another matter. There shouldn’t have been a reason to worry, after all you were in the company of Sam Winchester, one of the deadliest hunters alive. If anyone should have been worried it should be whatever you were hunting. Even still the chill that slid up your spine earlier never really faded away.

Realistically that unsettled feeling could have been a number of things. You were nervous. Even though you wanted to find the thing that was snatching bodies, you also really didn’t want to find the thing that was snatching bodies. The classic double-edged sword! If you find it you could stop it and kill it, or it could stop and kill you- always a gamble. And you did not like that shit at all. Dense wilderness also put you on edge, but that was from growing up in West Virginia where there was more forest than not, and from knowing exactly what was out there.

Certain parts of the wild should not be visited. Of that you were sure, beyond shadow of a doubt.

Since you could remember you were told to stay away from specific parts of the forests surrounding the tiny town tucked in the mountains where you grew up in. Everyone knew. No one talked about it, but everyone knew. The Wilderness to the North-West was home to something far older and more dangerous than any gun in that town.

There were rules everyone knew to abide by. And only the very stupid or very foolish chose not to listen.

Don’t go into the woods at night.

Never give out your real name- or anyone’s.

If you feel you’re being watched stay calm and get out without a fuss.

Take nothing from the forest because it will want it back.

When you see the fog, leave.

Don’t listen to the whispers, ignore the strange knockings.

Close the doors and windows, and don’t look outside.

If something is following you don’t ever turn around.

In your youth you were both stupid and foolish.

The rules your father tried to drill into your thick skull never stopped you from playing in the forbidden woods. When you were little you’d run through those trees like it was your own personal playground, it was magical and enchanted and it was all yours. Everywhere you stepped in those woods was warm and inviting, like a little bubble of safety all around you. You talked to the trees, and though they never talked back you felt loved and safe.

Until you got older. Sometimes it was inviting like it was when you were just a kid, other times it was warning you to stay away.

It was September and you were fifteen when it happened- when it turned on you. Walking home from school you cut through the trees. You knew that forest like the back of your hand and the idea of shaving nearly twenty minutes off of your walk was just a little too tempting. It was still warm, and everything was golden with that afternoon hue, just before the sun starts to set, and you weren’t afraid. You were just over half way home when the shift happened. That sudden change in the air that made you stop, body frozen on the spot. The air around you dropping to a temperature so cold you could see the puffs of air coming from your mouth. Everything darkened like the sun had disappeared, but dusk wasn’t for another two hours, and it seemed like the treetops had closed the holes in the canopy trapping you and claustrophobic.

Something felt wrong, terribly, terribly wrong.

Heeding the words of your father you forced your legs to move, to carry on your way. Don’t run, don’t panic, don’t be afraid. So you kept your head down, looked straight ahead, and kept going. It wasn’t long before you felt like you weren’t the only one in the woods. And up slithered that cold, creeping hand of fear gripping the back of your neck at the base of your skull, wrapping around your chest like a spider-web making your whole body vibrate in alarm. Your pace sped up as you tried to keep your breath from shaking; as you tried to keep the panic and dread that filled you from your head to your toes at bay.

The thudding of your heart all but stopped when you glanced up and realized you had no idea where you were. It was like you had run straight into a wall of Evergreen or the trees had uprooted themselves and moved just to throw you off. You knew those woods, there was no way you could have gotten lost on a path you had walked more than a thousand times.Yet there you were, standing somewhere that seemed foreign and hostile. Swallowing down the blooming anxiety stuck in your throat you willed yourself to keep moving remembering not to stay still for too long.

Thick rolling fog slid in along the sides of your vision appearing from nowhere and suddenly everywhere. It reached for you with wispy smoke-like tendrils threatening to snag your ankles if you weren’t quick enough. It whispered your name, your name which you had so ignorantly given in your youth. Your heart raced in your chest, blood pumping furiously with adrenaline. Lungs sucked in short, sharp shocks of air as you tried to remain calm to the best of your ability, but you were only holding on by a thread.

When you felt eyes on you it was your undoing. Overcome with dread and fright you took off as fast as your feet could carry you. And the wilderness did not like that. Tearing through the trees they tried to reach out with sharp branches snagging your clothes, and slicing fine lines in your face. But you didn’t slow down, you couldn’t slow down.

It was coming.

It was gaining on you.

The Thing in the Woods.

Your heavy backpack full of school books, binders and papers slowed you down. Without second thought you dropped the dead weight, praying to God or whatever was out there that you made it out alive.

The forest moved, uplifting a root and grabbing your foot taking you to the ground tearing holes in the knees of your jeans, scraping up your hands and splitting your cheek open on a rock beneath you. It didn’t give you pause though, in full flight or fight mode you scrambled to your feet kicking up a flurry of dead leaves as you did. The snapping of branches and footsteps behind you dropped your heart into the pit of your stomach, your nervous system short circuiting as every fiber of your being turned to stone.

Everything fell deathly silent, no rustling of leaves, no wind, no birds or insects. Just the sound of blood pumping in your ears and your ragged breath coming out in wisps of cold mist.

Every limb trembled, quaking with terror as you did what you could to swallow down your panic and turn your head in slow trepidation knowing you had broken nearly every cardinal rule. Dragging your eyes along the forest floor you turned them up and a silent scream caught in your throat.

“Hey, Earth to Y/n-” Sam said waving a hand in front of your face, snapping you from your trance. Like a deer in the headlights your attention was on him, he was looking at you curious and concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” You answered shrugging off your discomfort. Shifting your weight from foot to foot, flustered under the scrutiny of his unsatisfied gaze, you turned your eyes anywhere but his face. Those damn hazel eyes would be the end of you, and you couldn’t stand him staring at you like he genuinely cared for too long. Only after you took a long look around did you realize that you had no idea where you were or for how long you’d been following behind Sam. You blamed it on the woods, they played tricks and you hadn’t been much of a hiker since your youth.

“So I think I saw a house or something just up ahead.” He continued, dropping the fact that you were so very obviously not good. That you hadn’t cracked a joke or made a comment you surely thought was witty for nearly fifteen minutes was clue enough but the spaced out, thousand yard stare plastered on your face sealed the deal. He wasn’t one to push, and you weren’t one to tell, you’d come around when and if you were ready. Even still it was a look he hadn’t seen before.

“Okay, lets go do a B and E.” You agreed with a clap before sweeping your arms to the side in a grand gesture. “After you good Sir.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head walking past you with an eye roll.

“You better be careful rolling them things that hard Sam.” You warned as you followed behind him. He turned his head, confusion creasing his brow. “You’re gonna roll ‘em so far into your head they’ll get stuck like that.”

That pulled a laugh from him, and those dimples you loved so much. You always liked to see him smile, and his laugh seemed to happen so rarely. So when he did it was like looking at the sun, radiant and warm, bringing life to all things.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he saw a house. Although “house” was a rather gracious term for what it was. It looked more like an old hunting cabin that had seen better days, held together by antique nails and the grace of god.

“Wow, this place is a dump.” You said stepping around him and into the small clearing to take in the sight fully, the fact that it was still standing on its own was impressive.

“Really? You don’t want to honeymoon here?” Sam asked as he dropped the strap of his backpack to his hand and knelt to unzip it. You stood with your hands at your hips studying the building that would surely crumble if someone looked at it the wrong way. After a short pause you turned your attention back to him.

“I thought about it, and no. I do not want to honeymoon here. As much fun as tetanus is- I think I’d rather not.” You stated. The corner of his lips pulled up as he grinned at you while extending a handful of silver bullets and a holster. He and Dean might have been content with tucking a loaded gun in the waistband of their jeans- but you were not. You knew how getting shot felt and you were not exactly the most graceful person on the planet either. The combination of the two was a recipe for disaster, and you were not trying to shoot yourself in the ass. It was a nice ass, you had full intention on keeping it that way. Strapping the holster around your thigh and snagging a silver blade from his small arsenal almost instantly made you feel better. Sam geared up and slung the bag over his shoulder again before standing and sweeping hair from his face.

“I don’t know. Clean it up a little, could be nice.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Yout sure? Hang some curtains over the boarded up windows there,” he said pointing to different areas on the house. “A porch swing there. And one of those little welcome mat’s that says ‘Leave’ at the door.”

Hand over your heart you turned charmed eyes up to him, sighing dreamily. “You’re right, it’s like a dream.”

“I knew you’d come around.”

“Oh, yeah Sam, let's build a summer home out of the cabin that’s at the epicenter of every single 80’s horror movie.” You snarked, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Maybe if we’re lucky a portal to hell will open in the basement on nights when the stars align.”

“You know that is exactly how lucky we are.” Sam stated with another laugh, and it cured your depression, acne, and alcoholism all at once.

“Alright, call the realtor. Make ‘em an offer they can’t refuse.”

From about a hundred feet back the place certainly looked abandoned enough. Boards covered nearly every window, most of which were missing entire panes of glass either broken in or fallen out. And it was in serious need of a new paint job, and probably an exterminator- there was no way termites hadn’t taken up residence. Thinking about bugs slowly eating away the foundation of an entire house might not have been the best way to calm your nerves, but it was a better alternative to what you were most assuredly going to find.

The heavy duty padlock and iron chain around the front door did nothing but confirm your suspicions. It was never as easy an explanation as say- a tool shed! No. It was never a fucking tool shed. It was always a house of horrors. Body parts stuffed into jars. Body parts sans the jars. Always body parts. You should have picked a better- less morbid profession.

“Think you can crack it?” You asked, obviously he could. It was dumb to even ask, but Sam gave pause to ponder anyway. He scanned the area, then back to the lock, weighing options.

“Maybe. You go left, I’ll go right, see if we can find a more subtle way in.” He answered finally. Nodding in agreement you walked along the wall looking for a point of access that wouldn’t be so obvious that someone had gone inside. Because that’s exactly what you needed, pick the lock, go in, monster-person-thing comes back to find the chain missing right off the front door. Good point Sam.

More boarded up windows, and fragile wall you might have been able to put a fist clean through if you were curious enough. And jesus fuck if you were not curious. Putting a hand on the wall you gave a little push, and there was enough give that it only granted credibility to your theory, and a little more excitement than maybe was healthy. But who didn’t want to just full on kick in a fucking wall? Crazy people. That’s who. Though that would have been arguably way less subtle than just cracking open the padlock. The argument being the cabin was falling apart anyway. The human foot sized hole would have been slightly more difficult to explain, so you tucked the urge away in the back of your mind. Begrudgingly.

Carrying on you reached a cellar door, and a set of tiny windows lining the bottom of the cabin, one of them was busted nearly completely open. Yahtzee. With a quick chirping whistle you drew Sam’s attention who rounded the corner of the house to meet you. A casual toss of your head to the side let his eyes trail to the window you were looking at.

“There’s no way I’ll fit in that, I’m way too big.” He commented without missing a beat. You snorted a laugh, biting the inside of your lips into a flat line, closing your eyes and shaking your head. How many times had he said that in his life? When you regained more control of your face and opened your eyes again he was looking at you with that perfected bitch-face, which while oh-so-judgy was still pretty damn hot. You shrugged, proclaiming your innocence.

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

He didn’t have to respond, it was clear as day what you were thinking. He moved to the cellar doors, like a normal thinking person and pulled to no avail.

“Guess it’s locked from the inside there Buckaroo.” You said peering over his shoulder, his eyes cut to you, there was that bitch-face again. With a huff he stood upright, you always liked standing close enough to him to really let his height sink in. Sam always made you feel so tiny and small, and little, like his huge frame could just swallow you whole. Not that you ever spent entirely too much time thinking about how easily he could crush you in his toned, muscular, perfectly sunkissed arms or anything. Or how he could lift you off your feet and over his head like you weighed absolutely nothing. Focus!

The cellar doors wouldn’t open which meant your plan was the most viable one on the table. And if Sam couldn’t fit through that little window it left one option. You were going to have to do it. A shudder of distaste and resentment snaked up your back. You were going to have to crawl through some busted ass window, in some creepy ass basement of a creepy ass cabin in the middle of some creepy ass woods. And god only knew what you might find inside- human jars, jars made from humans, blood paint. Eyeball soup. Buffalo Bill. Who the fuck knew. Suddenly your plan seemed a lot less fun than it did a minute ago.

“Okay, welp. Guess I’m going in.” You said shaking the jitters out of your body through your hands. Sam would never tell you that he enjoyed watching you screw your courage to the sticking place, but it was absolutely entertaining. You were kind of like a kid in a play getting ready to go deliver a monologue at the crux of the plot, who had stage fright and were bouncing up and down offstage with nervous energy. He had to hand it to you, you never backed down, and there was no denying he admired your bravery. In another life you probably would have been a Teacher or Optometrist, or some kind of niche artist. Definitely something softer, much less gritty and gory. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself, he had no doubts about you and your iron will. But if the life hadn’t found you and made the decision for you, he simply couldn’t see you as the dirt-under-the-fingernails, willingly-crawling-into-a-dingy-hole-towards-almost-certain-peril kind of gal. The sarcasm and your unabashed weirdness though? That would stay. No matter what life you wound up in, most assuredly, those two staples of you would remain. He wouldn’t have you any other way though, he loved your odd sense of humor, and eccentricities.

Crouching at the window you tilted your head at a near painful angle trying to get a better view of what you were getting yourself in to. Without asking Sam handed you a flashlight, tucking it into your hand unannounced bringing your eyes to scan him over quizzically.

“Where were you hiding that?” You certainly hadn’t seen it earlier.

“Backpack?”

“Boy scout.” You teased, because of course he would have packed for everything, he probably had a compass tucked away in there somewhere too. Sam rolled his eyes, a dimple creasing his cheek as he turned his attention back to the window.

No obvious dead bodies, so that was a plus. After shining the light around you set your mind in stone and handed it back to him so you could shimmy in through the narrow pane. There was a pretty steep drop from the window to the floor in the basement so you laid on your back, squeezing your head and shoulders through first, giving yourself a chance to grab a long wooden beam above you to hold onto for leverage, and so you didn’t drop like a rock to the floor. With a final huff you pulled the rest of your body through the open window, acutely aware of the sharp pieces of jagged glass that jabbed you with every movement. Don’t think about the spider web you just stuck your hand in. Or the other creepy crawlies lurking in the shadows just waiting to scurry over your fingers or up the leg of your jeans. And do not think about the inevitable squishing sound the floor is going to make when you step into a pile of human organs. Once in your dropped your hold and landed on your feet, kicking up a thousand years worth of dust as you did. With a hacking cough and a wave of your hand you brushed the dirt out of your face to little avail.

“Anything interesting?” Sam asked from the window, shining the flashlight directly in your eyes. Scrunching up your face you tried to block it with your hand.

“I don’t know Sam. I’m blind now, so it’s a little hard to tell.”

“Right.” He realized and reached an arm through the window handing off the light to you. Shining it around you were pleasantly surprised to find it more or less empty. Old dusty shelves lined the walls full of boxes, and tools. No mason jars full of eyeballs. Yet. Lighting up the doors to the cellar from your side you were relieved that it was just barricaded by a simple wooden beam.

Setting the light on a shelf, aiming it at the doors you went and freed the plank of wood from its slot. Sam pulled the doors open from the other side, and closed them silently behind him, taking a moment to replace the wooden board, ever careful to cover his tracks.

“Mind the dust.” You said, grabbing the flashlight from its perch. “Hey, Sam.” The second you gained his attention you flashed the beam of light in his face. “See anything?”

“Ha, ha. I get it.” He snarked snatching the torch from you hand as you stifled a giggle.

Following his lead you continued to search the basement, turning up bupkis. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a bunch of old shit that no one had probably used since the Inn was built. Save for the nice little stash of Moonshine tucked under one of the shelves.

“Yeehaw.” You said popping open the lid to the mason jar and taking a whiff, quickly turning into a sputtered cough as your eyes and throat immediately started to burn. “Good god, you could strip paint with this.”

“Yeah? Go ahead and try it, tell me what gasoline tastes like.” Sam replied with a chuckle.

“I’m not gonna drink it. You drink it.”

“No way.”

“I’ll give you five bucks if you drink it.” You insisted, there was that perfect bitch-face again.

“You’d don’t have five bucks.”

“Wow, rude. You don’t have to rub it in.” You said with a pout, screwing the lid back on the jar and tucking it back into it’s spot. Once the basement was clear you headed upstairs which was unsettling. Nothing but ratty old furnishings, more than apparent that a family had in fact lived there, but just up and left one day. Antique dolls on an old rickety shelf, children’s toys on the floor, deer heads mounted on the walls. There were still untouched plates sitting on the side table, and a book left open for place keeping. Easily the most alarming thing was the back corner which had a mess of iron chains and cuffs, and a few giant meat hooks hanging.

“Still wanna turn this place into a summer home?” He asked, the light glinting off the iron chains.

“Just remember my safeword.” You quipped, biting back a gag from the rancid smell coming from what you could only assume was at one point a kitchen. A large black mass situated in the center of the floor where the odor was coming from caught your attention, forming a pit in your stomach, and you grabbed Sam by the wrist directing the light to where you needed it.

A voice from outside distracted you from making out the shape in the floor, someone was outside. Sam cut out the light, which helped neither of you to figure out where to go from there. Hand on the grip of your gun at your thigh you waited for the inevitable stand-off as the chain on the outside of the front door rattled, lock falling away. Sam’s large hands covered your mouth and snaked around your waist as he pulled you backwards and into the crawl-space beneath the staircase. With a free hand you hooked your fingers around the frame of the slatted closet door and pulled it closed silently.

The storage area he pulled you into had to be the world’s tiniest storage space, if it were just you in there it might have been fine. But with Sam’s huge form crowding what little space was available it was awkward to say the least. The sharp incline of the stairs had his broad shoulders pressed against the flat of the ceiling, and the rest of him hunched over you practically bending you in half backwards. One hand pressed against the wall above your head, and legs at a crooked and unstable angle below you you were banking on him to keep you upright. With his arm tucked firmly at your back and his other arm outstretched to keep himself steady, hand flat against the wall behind your head it was all he could do to fit into the space with you. You were flexible enough, generally speaking, but you were not a contortionist and the Cirque du Soleil act he just crammed you into was… less than comfortable.

The front door opened and you could no longer lament about your tight quarters.

“No, I heard you.” Came a man’s voice, you tugged a finger on the slats of the door trying your damndest to sneak a peek through them, which was near impossible with Sam’s forearm against your jaw. Not that you minded so much, he was warm, and he smelled so nice it was distracting, like coffee, and vanilla, and cinnamon. He held you flush against him in a hard line down the length of his chest and abdomen, tucked between his solid thighs. Made you all tingly in the nether region, but there was no time for you to focus on his firm he was. Or the feel of his breath hot against your neck forming goosebumps on your skin. Or how the long strands of his hair tickled your cheek, and how you’d always wanted to know how soft it would feel knotted in your fingers. Or how hard your heart was pounding in your chest a little too excited to be so close to him.

“I said I heard you. It’ll be taken care of.” The Man said again, irritated. It was so dark in the cabin you couldn’t make out a thing, and you were trusting your instincts to tell you relatively where he was based on where his voice was coming from. “You just worry about your damn self, and let me do my fucking job. Or you can deal with it, but something tells me you don’t like getting your hands dirty...Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Then there was silence, followed by a series of footsteps, heavy boots, going from the spot in the center of the room towards the kitchen. The sounds of rustling plastic, and a slow choppy drag of something weighty across the floor.

Your arm above your head was starting to cramp, and the way he had you bent backwards was already painful. Bracing yourself against the wall you twisted your body until your back was flush against his chest, careful to remain as silent as you could. Sam shifted to try to give you some room but, the poor man had nowhere to go. Under different circumstances he would not have minded your ass pressing against him in all the right places. But this was neither the time nor the place to get caught up in the scent of your shampoo, or the soft curves of your body moving against the hard lines of his. You shifted again, just trying to get a better view of what little there was to be seen through the slats in the door, but the friction of your movements was impossible to ignore. One large hand splayed out flat, low on your stomach between your hip bones keeping you still enough for him to keep his mind focused on anything other than the growing tension pooling in his core.

The feel of his hand sitting dangerously low over your jeans made heat bloom in your cheeks and elsewhere and at the moment you were grateful for the pitch black. The front door creaked open and the rustling plastic stopped long enough for it to shut again and be replaced by the sound of jingling chains and a padlock being reattached. Waiting until you were in the clear enough to make an exit from the tiny crawl-space was seemed to take forever, but at the same time it wasn’t like you were in much of a huge rush to move. After all you were a little more than content to stay exactly where you were. Sam let out a sigh, his forehead dropping to rest against the back of your neck, his warm breath sending a tingle down your spine.

“See anything?” His tone low and smooth, as if he was unbothered by the cramped quarters.

“Nothing.” There was no hiding your disappointment. The conversation you’d overheard was certainly of interest however. Pushing the door open you slipped out of the crawl-space. The drag of his long fingers over the bare skin peeking between the rise of your jeans and hem of your t-shirt sending sparks of electricity directly to your center. Sam stepped out behind you, having to adjust himself in his jeans, he could think more about the feel of holding you that close later, and he would be.

The flashlight clicked on and both of you moved directly to the kitchen which yielded- nothing.

Swatting your hands against your thighs in frustration you let out an irritated groan. The sink was backed up with blackwater, and the floor was mushy from water damage sourced from a hole in the ceiling. But there were no body parts. The lack thereof was starting to bother you, which was not a feeling you’d thought to anticipate. No one wanted to find human remains, but more than anything you just wanted to find some fucking human remains! Gank the bad guy, stop the killings, go home, take a hot bath and boom. You would be on your way to Netflix and sleep. But no! Of course it wasn’t that simple.

Upstairs was equally unfruitful. Although an unmade and dingy bed, along with some foul smelling clothes was more proof than needed that someone was living there still. Your money was on the guy you’d just heard downstairs.

The only problem left was how to get back out of the house without letting it be known they had been there. Someone would have to put the wooden board back in the cellar door-you. But you also weren’t quite tall enough to climb back through the window in the basement. There was, however, a wide open window in the bedroom, and Sam beat you to it.

“Ever thought about jumping out a window?”

“You read my mind.” You answered unenthusiastically. He pressed his forearm against the frame gauging just how far down the drop would be, deciding it was plenty safe. But you did not agree. “You’re kidding right?”

“It’s not that far.” He justified, but you were not having it. A twenty foot drop might not have seemed like much for him, but that extra foot he had on you made a hell of a difference. Not to mention the fact that he was a large wall of solid muscle, while you were small, soft and had squishy insides.

“Okay, sure- for you maybe, Gigantor. I jump down there I’m looking at a broken leg, or worse.”

“You’re not going to break your leg.” Sam reassured you, but the flat and unamused expression on your face was not something he’d be able to cut through that easily. A large hand slid along your jawline, warm and comforting. “I’ll catch you.”

You could have melted into a puddle on the spot. It really wouldn’t have taken anything more than a slight breeze to make your knees crumple beneath you. The genuine sweetness in his eyes made you forget how to breathe. Trying to get a handle on yourself, unless you drowned in those kaleidoscope eyes you scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“I promise.” He said, gaze intense and confident. Beyond shadow of a doubt you trusted him, you were sure you were also going to regret it, but you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You agreed, a little baffled that you were just going to jump out a window and trust him to break your fall. He turned to go out first, but you grabbed his arm, bringing his attention back to you, all nerves again. “Sam. You drop me and I swear once I’m out of the hospital you’re in for a world of hurt.”

Sam flashed you a dimpled smile and dropped out the window, landing on his feet, making it look easy. Of course, he always made it look easy. He was graceful and agile, like a cat. You on the other hand- not so much. You sucked in a breath and leaned out the window waiting for him to ready himself. It wasn’t the first window you’d jumped out of, not by a long shot. But any other time you were escaping with zero hesitation about what was on the other side, no time to think about it. Quick thinking jump, or die, so there was little room to question the best alternative. But you kind of just wanted to try to boost yourself through the window in the basement right about then.

“This is so stupid.” You hushed, rocking on your heels. He turned up to you, arms outstretched. Sucking in a breath you hoped you aimed right, and stepped out the window, slamming your eyes shut and bracing yourself for impact.

Impact came but it wasn’t you busting your ass on solid ground. Sam made good on his word and caught you, but you had a little thing called momentum and just kept going, practically tackling him to the floor below. He hit the dirt on his back, his arms wrapped firm around you. Eyes wide you sat up immediately, waiting for the inevitable ‘Oh god, I think you broke my rib!’ to come but he just laid out for a moment, and brought two thumbs up, head tipped back to catch the breath you surely knocked out of him.

“Hey, this was your idea.” You defended. He nodded with an exasperated grin, hands falling to rest high on your thighs where you straddled his waist. It didn’t take but a split second for you to relish the position you’d found yourself in, and took only another split second more for the wave of embarrassment to flood, as you scrambled to your feet. Not that you wouldn’t have minded staying perched on his hips a little longer, or much longer. But it was Sam, and you already shouldn’t have been thinking about him like that, and you were also a professional with a job to do, which meant you didn’t have time to wrap your brain in fantasies. No matter how mouth-wateringly tantalizing they were.

He took your outstretched hand to help him to his feet, and dusted off the foliage he picked up. When you turned away to look at your surroundings he took a moment to adjust himself once again. That was twice now he’d had you exactly where he’d wanted you, at exactly the wrong times.

Heavy fog began to roll in through the trees, and with it that sickening cold chill rolled up your spine, and you found yourself edging just a little closer to him.

“It’ll be dark soon. We should get back to the Inn.” You suggested, but it was more of a warning. The woods were telling you to get out, and you weren’t one to ignore the signs anymore.

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@lydklein1

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@dontyouhearthewhispers

@littlegreenplasticsoldier

@witchy--owl (Your tag is broken??)

@saxxxology